The New Wilderness

by Diane Cook

  In the morning, the man was building a fire poorly. His lips were full and purple. His cheeks distended like a harvesting chipmunk’s.

  The breakfast crew took over and the man watched carefully, taking notes with no paper. When they all sat around the fire to eat, he sat too. And when they were given a bowl of blackened rice, he was given one too.

  “This is Adam,” Carl said.

  “Hi, Adam,” they all said.

  Adam tried to smile, but no emotion escaped his swollen face.

  “Tell us a little about yourself, Adam,” said Debra.

  And that’s when they heard that there were other people in the Wilderness State. That they’d been here for some time. And that more were coming.

  His chin quivering with anger, Carl declared them, whoever they were, to be Trespassers. But Adam said they already had a name. They called themselves the Mavericks.

  • • •

  Sister and Brother and Pinecone woke from nightmares in which they were blindfolded and dragged away in the purple night to the Mavericks’ dirty hovels. They said they pictured a kind of wild man the adults knew did not exist. A wild man covered in dirt, animal blood dripping from his mouth. The kind of wild man City dwellers had perhaps always imagined the Community to be. But probably these other people looked like Adam. Their City clothes were dirty and hanging on them, but were still City clothes. Their hair was too long but still evoked the last professional cut they’d received. The soles of their shoes were splitting, but they were rubber soles. They still had jeans. They still had unbroken eyeglasses. They would look ruined by the Wilderness, not at one with it. What they wondered was, while Adam seemed harmless enough, would the others be?

  According to Adam, the City the Community had known was nothing compared to how it was now, and that is why people were fleeing, making such a risky trek to hide in the last place they could. The last wilderness. Whenever the Newcomers would try to nod their heads knowingly, being the previous most recent City dwellers, Adam would point at them and bark, “No, you don’t know. You don’t know.”

  His storytelling went on for days. But then, one night, he went quiet. They thought it might be fun to have a new audience who hadn’t heard their own stories, the ones about the beginning, the Ballads they’d created from their history. So Juan told them, creeping around the circle, his eyes beaming emotion, making faces, hands fluttering in pantomime. He’d done some amateur theatre in the City, he told them, which was new information.

  Adam sat there politely the first night, then distractedly the second. On the third, he stuck his thumb out and thrust it down. “Boo,” he said as Juan recounted a treacherous hunt. Juan froze.

  “Excuse me?” said Bea.

  “I said, ‘Boo.’” Adam stuck his tongue out. “Your stories are a snooze. And while I’m at it, boo-hoo, poor you.” He rubbed his fists into his eyes and said, “Waah. Hardship? You had it so easy! You guys just walked right in. I bet they flew you over in a cargo plane.”

  The Community said nothing since it was true.

  “You walked up to the door of the Wilderness State and it was wide-open. Practically given a red carpet. Now you want to hear about hardship, I’ll tell you about hardship. We had to escape the City. We didn’t have a cargo plane take us. We had to walk to get here. We bribed truck drivers if we were lucky enough to see one. It took months and months. We evaded the authorities the whole way. The ones that made it anyway. And there are plenty who didn’t, okay. Okay?” He shouted and they startled, and some of them obediently nodded their heads. “But we’ve been here for years and you didn’t even suspect it. We all know who you are. We’ve seen your bare asses when you shit. And you’ve never even suspected we existed.”

  The Community was dumbstruck.

  Carl latched onto what he could. “Years?” he said. “Then why are your clothes still so new?”

  “I didn’t say I had been here for years. We. Us. The Mavericks.”

  “How did you manage to hook up with them if we’ve never seen them?”

  “I guess I’m a better explorer than you.”

  This angered Carl. “I think you’re an ex-Ranger who got fired and went nuts and didn’t want to leave.”

  “No, I’m a Maverick. I’m on the team. We don’t follow their rules. We make our own rules.” Adam popped his arm and made a muscle. It quivered effortfully. He still looked dangerously undernourished. It was hard to know if he was telling them a story or the truth.

  “We get in trouble when you don’t follow the rules,” Carl complained. “We get blamed.”

  Again, Adam wrenched at his eyes. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Try being on the run 24/7.”

  “We don’t have to run,” said Carl. “Because we’re allowed to be here.”

  Adam snarled, jealousy rising to the surface.

  Bea perked up. “And that is a good distinction. We are allowed to be here. You’re not. Why, we could just call the Rangers right now and let them know we have ourselves a Maverick. Maybe that’s what we ought to do.”

  For the first time Adam looked distraught, not superior. “You have a phone?”

  “Of course we have a phone,” Bea guffawed. They did not have a phone.

  Adam blanched. “Please don’t.” He crawled on his knees over to Bea. “Please, I can’t go back. I won’t talk about the Mavericks anymore. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  With Adam cowering it was hard to continue with the threat. Bea nodded.

  Debra glared at her as Adam rose, shaking, and went to sleep under a tree.

  “That was so mean, Bea,” she scolded.

  Debra followed Adam, Agnes assumed to console him. She must have also told him there were no phones because after that it was Mavericks this and Mavericks that for days. It sounded at times like Adam was a superfan of the Mavericks and not necessarily one himself.

  After that Debra and Adam were inseparable, which upset Dr. Harold a great deal.

  “I don’t see why we are harboring this . . . this fugitive,” Dr. Harold muttered whenever anyone was in earshot.

  “Oh, enough,” Debra huffed. “He has as much right to be here as we do.”

  “That is patently false,” Dr. Harold sniped back. “He has zero right to be here. And we have one hundred percent right to be here. We have official paperwork.”

  “It’s a free country,” she said.

  Juan snorted, “No, it’s not, Debra.” He was still bitter from having shared a bed with her.

  “But it’s against the rules,” Dr. Harold said quietly.

  “Since when are you such a stickler for the rules?” Debra snapped.

  Dr. Harold’s jaw dropped. “Debra, I’ve always been a stickler for the rules,” he said, clearly hurt. “Did you not know that?”

  Debra shrugged, irritated, distracted. “Adam,” she barked, and his hand shot up from the sleeping circle where he was lounging and she went and lay down with him.

  Dr. Harold looked down at the ground, dejected. Patty’s mom patted his arm.

  It was hard to know what to do with Adam. They trained him in camp chores. He was okay at working but not great. They didn’t want to show him how to do too much because all the things they had learned over the years now felt valuable. It was knowledge they felt they should protect and keep secret. So they butchered, tanned, darned, mended and sewed, shot arrows, hulled rice, shelled pine nuts, filtered water all with their backs to him. Debra showed him how to sew with sinew even though they’d told her not to, but otherwise they thought they kept their skills and secrets hidden. They didn’t know if he was a foe. But they knew he wasn’t their friend.

  Still, Adam found out about things they would have preferred he not know.

  “Why are you headed to the Caldera?” he asked while skulking in the shadows one evening. Carl and Bea were laying out their planned route for the next days.

  “It’s where we were told to go,” said Bea.

  “Hmm,” he said.

  They started discuss
ing again, but in whispers.

  “Why were you told to go there?” he interrupted again. He squinted at them. “I mean, do you even know?”

  “Of course we know. There’s a party.”

  “A party?” Adam howled.

  “Yeah, there’s a new Post on the Caldera and they’re having a party to celebrate.”

  “The only thing on the Caldera is their Lodge and that’s their special meeting place. Believe me, you wouldn’t be invited to any party the Rangers were throwing at the Lodge. They hate you.”

  “No, they don’t.” Bea sat a little straighter. “They’re having the party for us.”

  “Hmm,” he said again, stroking his chin and peering at Bea. “I thought you were, like, the smart one.”

  “Don’t start,” Carl snapped.

  Adam raised his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying, I wouldn’t trust what the Rangers told me. Especially if they invited me to a party. What are they going to do when you get there, roast you over an open fire?”

  Bea rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. We’ve known the Rangers for a long time. Yes, some of them are assholes. Many, even. But not all. We have a relationship.”

  Adam howled again, but he kept whatever made him laugh to himself.

  “Well,” said Helen. “I can’t wait to get there. I need a good party.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Caldera,” said Dr. Harold. “We weren’t allowed to go before.”

  Adam’s eyes danced over their faces. “Amazing that you just go where you’re told to go and avoid what you’re told to avoid. Yes, sir, no, sir. I mean, getting here took some creativity, I’ll give you that. But honestly, haven’t you evolved yet? What happened to free will? Didn’t you talk about that, Carl, in one of those stupid interviews you did forever ago?”

  “Do you ever want to eat again?” threatened Carl.

  Adam put his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend,” he said. Though it was obvious he had. Debra cackled alone.

  Adam was lounging by the fire, his feet up on the Cast Iron, chewing on a twig. “I just know I wouldn’t go if I were you.” He shrugged.

  Bea glared. “Well, nobody asked you to go,” she said matter-of-factly. “You can go wherever you want. But we’re going to the Caldera. And we’re going in the morning.”

  Adam smirked. “A unanimous decision I see.”

  “This conversation is over,” said Carl. “You can sleep out there.” He waved his hand into the dark. “With Glen.”

  “You can sleep with me, Adam,” said Debra, sneering at Carl.

  Agnes looked at Carl. His face was raging. She looked to her mother and saw that she was angry too, but in a very different way.

  As Agnes fell asleep, she could hear their curt, cross whispers.

  * * *

  The Community woke to a scream. Debra’s. She was standing by her bed, a skin wrapped around her. Her eyes were fixed on the bedding at her feet. Adam usually slept there, but now the bed was empty except for a pool of blood on the skins.

  Carl knelt over the blood and dipped his finger in it. He sniffed it. Licked it. His face screwed. “This is rabbit blood,” he said.

  “How do you know?” said Debra.

  “You can taste the rabbit.” He waved his hand at it. “See for yourself.”

  Some tried it. They nodded.

  It was rabbit blood.

  “What an amateur,” Carl scoffed. “Did he think we wouldn’t taste the blood?”

  The camp had been overturned. A pouch of meat was gone, some sewing and patching materials, two skins they had just finished tanning, and the Cast Iron.

  “That son of a bitch,” said Frank.

  “Well, he certainly had help,” said Carl. “He couldn’t carry the Cast Iron by himself.”

  Debra sniffed. “He’s stronger than you think.”

  “Why are you defending him?” Carl said.

  Debra’s face crumpled. “I don’t know,” she cried, flinging herself to her bed, into the blood and everything.

  The group tightened their circle. Some thought he’d acted alone and staged a violent kidnapping. Some thought he must have reconnected with Mavericks, who helped him. Maybe it had been a setup from the beginning. He’d been a plant. A mole. Whatever he was, he was also a scoundrel.

  Agnes thought he was probably just strong enough to carry all of that alone. It’s why he took only one pouch of meat. A group would have taken more.

  They searched for clues to the direction the Cast Iron might have been taken. They reported evidence like broken twigs and a footprint, some scratched bark, and a chunk of fallen jerky all at the edge of the forest, heading toward the Caldera.

  “Well, we know the direction he went,” said Helen.

  “Or they went,” whispered Patty’s mom.

  “I think we should try to overtake him,” said Carl. “He can’t get far carrying that pot.” Carl’s fist twitched, opened and closed, as though he could see Adam right in front of him.

  Debra welled up again. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Agnes couldn’t remember seeing Debra ever cry before today, even when her wife had left early on. Or when Caroline died. She hadn’t thought Debra was capable of it. Agnes crouched to where Debra was curled and put her hand on her back. “I’m sorry, Debra.”

  “Don’t give her any pity,” said Bea. “This is all her fault.”

  “Me?” Debra shrieked through a sob. “You told him he couldn’t come to the Caldera.”

  “Well you’re the one who wanted to give him water in the first place.”

  “But you’re the one who said we could,” said Debra. “You’re the leader. It’s your job to say no. So this is your fault,” she screamed.

  Agnes couldn’t remember ever hearing Debra scream before today either. It was turning out to be an interesting day for Debra.

  Bea’s fists clenched at her sides. She looked as though she had an army of words heaving against her gritted teeth. But she held them all back and finally said, “We have to try to track him. That pot is too valuable to us. That bag had a lot of meat in it. And that pemmican is irreplaceable when winter comes. Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop crying, Debra.”

  * * *

  They packed quickly and headed into the cinder cone forest.

  The forest rolled out before them. Thick with tall trees but not shrouded like it had seemed from its edges. Under the canopy, birds zipped tree to tree and all sounds had an echo, though there was no clear reason why. After a couple of days, Agnes could see, through breaks in the vegetation, what looked like dunes. Scattered cinder cones around the base of the Caldera. Their tops were sandy and bare, their slopes speckled with skinny firs. They had been bubbling baby cauldrons, but now they were long dead.

  They’d been racing, quick camping, sleeping for only a few hours a night, eating jerky as they went. Carl was leading. He was like a wolf with meat on the nose. The children were having to run sometimes to keep up. The line of them was stretched long into the forest. But it was Glen who really struggled. After a couple of nights, he’d barely made it to camp before they were up and walking again. He didn’t get up with them. He sat hunched over his knees, shaking his head, heaving. Agnes stood with him. Carl was already blazing some kind of trail out of view.

  “Mom,” Agnes yelled. Her mother reappeared quickly from up the path and saw Glen. She looked like she might collapse, but then she barked angrily, “Everyone drop your things—we’re camping tonight.” She dropped her bag and sprinted ahead to where Carl was hustling along.

  People dropped their bags and milled around. Some of the Newcomers cast irritated glances at Glen, some of the Originalists too. They had left people behind in the past. But this was Glen. And this was different, Agnes thought. Wasn’t it?

  Her mother was gone a long time. The camp was set up, a mix between a quick camp and something longer, since the Community didn’t know the amount of time they’d be there. A fire had been set up, but the beds were basic, a circle o
f one pelt per family.

  Agnes heard them before she saw them. A rising cacophony made from two angry voices. When Bea came back down the mountain, her eyes were dancing and her jaw was set. She plunked down by Glen, who was curled by the fire. They were close enough to touch, but she didn’t touch him. She chewed on her knuckles instead. Carl followed after, furious in every movement. A walking argument. But he kept his mouth shut.

  Debra was the first to speak. “How long will we be here?”

  “Until we are all rested and able to continue,” Bea said flatly.

  Carl paced by some wimpy trees. At times he would stop, spread an arm like he was about to speak. But he would say nothing. Just tuck his arm back and begin pacing again. No one spoke and no one wanted to look at anyone else. Finally, Carl took his pelt into the woods. Agnes expected Val to follow with Baby Egret, but she didn’t. It seemed she hardly registered he’d gone.

  The camp tension lightened slightly. Bea sighed a long, tortured sigh. Debra got a bag of jerky and passed it around.

  Agnes went to sit next to her mother. “What did you tell Carl?”

  “I told him we were only as strong as our weakest member.”

  “What did he say?”

  She shook her head. “Glen just needs some sleep. He’ll be fine tomorrow. And I’ll lead so we can keep a healthy pace.”

  “I could lead,” said Agnes.

  But her mother looked at her. She looked weary, troubled. “No, I don’t want you up there. In case we run into anything.”

  Just then Baby Egret’s caterwaul ricocheted off the tree trunks and Agnes flinched.

  Her mother laughed. “You think that’s bad. That is nothing compared to you. The neighbors, they moved to another floor because of it.”

  “No, they didn’t,” Agnes said, a smile creeping to her face.

  “Yeah, they did,” her mother insisted. “You were so loud. Such a ruckus. But you didn’t have colic like Baby Egret. You just liked to scream. You were mostly happy. So I didn’t mind.”