by Nancy Isaak
Our patrols and sentries began reporting more and more Crazies moving throughout the canyons. They still seemed to be traveling in two’s and three’s; we had yet to see any groups more than that. It was hard to figure out exactly what they were up to—especially since we seemed to have lost all contact with the Stars.
Mostly, it seemed like the Crazies had been sent out to annoy us—catch any of us out alone on a trail (hadn’t happened so far) or snipe away at our sentry positions (a daily occurrence). Jay and Porter began to see more of our guys in the Medical Clinic; they were unfortunately getting a lot of practice digging out bullets and stitching up wounds.
While none of our guys had been killed, yet—the Crazies were definitely trying.
It was just a matter of time.
* * * *
It wasn’t all bad news in September, however.
Kieran and Cammie had finally decided to make it official. Their plan was to get married one minute after midnight on New Year’s Eve—their way of starting off the new year right.
Of course, a big wedding party was planned. Sophia had immediately thrown herself into the preparations of the reception meal and wedding cake. And, although I was happy that she had found something good to occupy herself, I was also worried about what the event would mean to our diminishing food supplies.
Jacob and Rhys, meanwhile, were working together to set up the ‘honeymoon house’ for Kieran and Cammie—the same little guest house where Jacob and I had honeymooned. I had a feeling that the ‘house’ would be used again in the future—a tribal tradition as more of our guys and girls got older and fell in love and wanted to establish family bonds.
Ironically—that made me happy.
My honeymoon with Jacob was one of the happiest times of my life. I prayed that it would be so for every couple who came after us.
And, hopefully, that would include Jay and Porter.
With the amount of hugging, kissing, and holding hands they were doing, it was obvious that they were deeply in love. They spent nearly every waking moment together. And, although I missed the good times I used to spend with my BFF, I was also sincerely happy for her.
The only sad thing about Jay and Porter’s evolving relationship was how bittersweet it must have been for Jude. At times, I would catch Jude secretly watching them—sadness all over her face.
I desperately wished that I could find someone for Jude.
There were so many great guys in our tribe now—but none of them seemed to interest her. More than a few had approached her—some nervously, others with a confidence that matched her own.
All were shot down—an unlucky few with a simple glare or a biting word.
* * * *
While Kieran and Cammie getting married was exciting, nothing beat Pauly and Florenza’s good news.
She finally announced that she was pregnant!
Our tribe was having its first baby!
Pauly, of course, took to walking around the Point all puffed up—like a peacock. He proudly accepted the title of ‘most macho guy’ in our tribe, happily pointing out to anyone who would listen that—he didn’t shoot blanks.
Using Porter’s big ledger, he and a few of the guys scavenged cigars from across Point Dume. They ended with a collection of over two hundred to hand out on ‘birth day’. Pauly wound blue ribbon around each of them because—of course—he ‘just knew’ that the baby would be a boy.
Kieran, meanwhile, declared himself to be the baby’s uncle.
He would lean down and talk to Florenza’s belly any chance he got—telling his ‘nephew’ funny little stories about his mom and dad. It always made me smile to see it—Kieran’s head pressed against Florenza’s growing midsection—so very different from when he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
* * * *
Meanwhile, Jay and Porter were preparing for the tribe’s first delivery. They read every medical book on pregnancy they could find and even practiced delivering babies by using little dolls.
A room in the mansion was being outfitted as the birthing room, complete with tanks of oxygen that neither Jay nor Porter knew how to use—yet. Their plan was to somehow create a neo-natal unit, in case it was needed.
I won’t lie—I had doubts that, if Florenza delivered prematurely, Jay and Porter could save the baby. Still, I would never have said that out loud. Instead, I signed off on whatever Jay and Porter needed—sending search parties out with their supply lists.
The truth was, this baby was beyond precious—to Pauly and Florenza, to our tribe—perhaps, even…to the world.
This baby was our future.
* * * *
Florenza, of course, was treated like a princess wherever she went.
Everyone wanted to touch her rounding belly and—being Florenza—she wore the tightest shirts she could find, just to emphasize her pregnancy.
When her belly button popped out, she was ecstatic—showing it to everyone she came into contact with, telling them that her ‘son’ was so strong, he had kicked her an ‘outie’.
Meanwhile, we girls began to plan for Florenza’s baby shower.
To not take away from Kieran and Cammie’s wedding, we decided that we’d have the event sometime in late January. Hopefully, that would be close to the baby’s birth because—honestly—not even Jay or Porter could figure out exactly when the baby was coming.
It made those of us on the Council realize that—in the future—if a couple wanted to have a baby, they should be encouraged to keep a “private” calendar of when they did it. That way, if a pregnancy did develop, Jay and Porter would have a better idea of its due date—and how to prepare for the birth.
In the meantime, we all made guesses as to when our first tribe’s baby would arrive. One of the guys even created a ‘due date’ betting pool. Almost everyone made a guess—the cost to enter being a favor, our newest currency.
I chose February 14th—such a romantic.
Jude didn’t take part; she thought the whole idea of a betting pool stupid.
Instead, she spent her time working on a crib for Florenza’s baby shower. I kept telling her that she could easily find one—most likely a very expensive one—in one of the mansions on the Point.
Jude would have none of it, however. “How could I be sure that a baby didn’t disappear from any cribs I found on the Point?” she asked me one night. “Like that would have to be bad luck or something.”
“I’m kind of surprised,” I admitted. “I would never have thought of you as superstitious.”
“I’m not,” she growled. “But Florenza, like the girl’s got all these good luck charms all over her bedroom. She doesn’t want any used crib—the idea freaks her out—that maybe a baby would have been inside it on the day.”
Using a book she had discovered on wood carving, Jude was slowly hewing away at a fallen tree out near Frank’s farm. Her almost-crib looked a mess, to be honest—all lop-sided and covered in sawdust. Personally, I didn’t see how Jude could finish it in time, but she seemed confident…I guess that’s all that counted.
And she wasn’t the only one hand-making gifts for Florenza’s baby.
I saw guys repairing strollers, others whittling little wooden ducks. A couple of the older guys—big, tough football-types—took to spending an hour each day knitting baby clothes.
It was both hilarious—and touching.
Lily and Hannah were also busy with their gift for the baby. They weren’t making anything. Instead—along with Cammie—they were compiling books that they had scavenged, creating a child’s library in one of the mansion’s upstairs rooms.
* * * *
Then—as if the tribe hadn’t been excited enough—came the girls.
There were fifteen of them—healthy, well-fed girls, walking south down Pacific Coast Highway, who had somehow managed to survive from Day One of the ‘event’ without being attacked or assaulted in any way.
At first, I wondered how they had managed to pass through each of our s
entry positions. No doubt, however, our guys had been too surprised by the appearance of more girls to do much more than ogle them from behind the bushes as they walked by.
Besides, the Council had always instructed the sentries to let any girls through.
I guess they had taken us at our word.
At least until the girls reached the Point.
* * * *
I was called to the junction of Heathercliff and Pacific Coast Highway just before dusk. My guys had the girls surrounded—guns out, but aimed toward the ground. The girls were clustered in one group in the center—back-to-back—their own weapons trained on my guys.
“Guns down!” I cried, jumping off of Beauty and running toward them. “Everybody—put your guns away now!”
The girls didn’t move, but my guys holstered their weapons or slung their rifles across their backs.
“They’re not trying to harm you,” I assured the girls, waving the guys back to the sides of the highway. “They just didn’t want you heading farther down the highway until I had a chance to talk to you.”
A tall, pretty blonde stepped toward me. She had light blue eyes, almost as icy as Jacob’s, and the type of curvy body that always made me feel inadequate.
“Because of the Crazies?” she asked.
I nodded. “You know about them.”
“It was in the note.” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. “Is this you guys?”
Carefully, she unfolded the paper and held it out so I could read it.
“Jacob,” I whispered, recognizing his writing immediately. He had told me about a notice he had placed on a library bulletin board in Ventura; I assumed that I was looking at that notice now.
“The note says that there’s a safe place here,” said the tall blonde. “With the Locals.”
“We’re the Locals,” I acknowledge. “And you’ve reached Point Dume.”
“Then, you know Jacob?” she asked, becoming excited.
Before I could respond, a male voice spoke from somewhere behind me. “I’m Jacob.”
The blonde’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She walked right past me, straight up to Jacob. He was standing at the edge of the highway with the rest of the guys.
Somehow, I had missed him, had not even realized that he was there.
“We saw your notice on the bulletin board,” said the blonde. “We came because of you…because you wrote that you’d keep us safe. We’ve been so alone…so scared. But, then we found your note.”
And—for the first time in weeks—Jacob smiled.
* * * *
Her name was Miley and she and her ‘girls’ had walked all the way down from northern Oregon, intent on escaping the fierce winters there. Ranging in age from twelve to nineteen, they all came from the same boarding school.
When the event had happened, they had tried at first to make a go of it in Oregon. Four feet of snow and diminishing food eventually forced them south, however.
They had traveled slowly, walking all the way—never more than twenty miles in a day, in their effort to find a new home. Along the way, they had encountered—surprisingly—only three other girls, all of whom had joined in with their group.
Passing through San Francisco, however, they did see evidence of other survivors. And they also heard gunshots—lots of them—so many, that it frightened the girls. Rather than try and make contact, they moved quickly through the city—creeping furtively along the deserted side streets in the hours just before dawn.
From San Francisco to Ventura took five months—because the girls stayed in Carmel-By-The-Sea for two months and Morro Bay for another three. After an encouraging start in both towns, the girls eventually became dissatisfied with the areas for various reasons and, once again, continued their search for a new home southward.
Around San Luis Obispo—about a hundred and twenty-five miles north of Ventura—the group began to encounter boys. They would usually be in small groups—like the girls—traveling along the highway.
At first, the girls would openly approach the wanderers—excited to be around boys again. But, each time, something would be off—a leering stare, off-color jokes, a hand reaching toward a breast—and the guys would ultimately be sent on their way.
And the girls—fearing retribution—would quickly move on again.
When the group finally neared Ventura, there were enough guys (Crazies, no doubt) traveling along the highway, that the girls became frightened and moved inland—once more traveling just before dawn.
During the day, however—when they were most likely to be seen—they hid.
Their first day in Ventura, the group chose a library as their safehouse, which was where they discovered Jacob’s notice on the bulletin board and his promise of a safe and welcoming tribe.
Because Jacob had warned about the Crazies, the girls knew to be extra-careful approaching the coastline. Traveling once again only in the dark, it took the group days to find its way around the increasing numbers of mohawked boys—who suddenly seemed to be everywhere.
* * * *
As I’d written before, I had assumed that our sentries had let the girls pass freely along the Pacific Coast Highway. At supper that night, Miley—who appeared to be the group’s leader—told us differently, explaining proudly how the group had slipped past our watchers.
“We climbed up the side of the mountain, the one that has all those satellite/radar dishes on it.” She was speaking of Laguna Peak, a mountain close to Mugu Peak that was covered in aerospace tracking equipment. “From there, we just traveled along the ridgeline. Kerry had a map of Malibu that we copied from one of the atlases in the library. We used that to tell us when we’d reached Point Dume and came down to the road there.”
“And you didn’t come across any Crazies in the hills?” I asked.
She shook her head. “But we saw some fires farther back toward the Conejo Valley…campfires…so we guessed those might have been Crazies.”
“Plus we heard the shooting,” said a young African-American girl about fifteen. She was seated next to Wester, who couldn’t seem to take his obviously enamored eyes off of her—which, by the way, was irritating Hannah and Lily to no end.
“It wasn’t a lot of gunfire,” added Miley. “Just like a couple of shots here and there.”
“That would be the Crazies shooting at our sentries,” I explained, shrugging. “They do that.”
“These Crazies are like serious dicks, aren’t they?” said Miley, frowning.
“You have no idea.”
* * * *
The majority of the new group moved into the girls’ house—Jude and Sophia taking the lead with getting them settled in. Three of the newcomers, however, chose to join Frank’s little farming community instead.
One of the girls—a pretty 12-year old redhead—seemed to take to Lance immediately, following him around like a puppy. I wondered if, perhaps, having someone so close to his age would eventually cool Lance’s affections for Mia.
It didn’t.
* * * *
There was no doubt in my mind that most of the guys were ecstatic about having new girls in the tribe. Suddenly, the number of baths being taken increased dramatically; hair was combed into actual styles, and clothes became washed and smelling line-fresh.
In fact, over the days and weeks that followed, I began to see couples emerge—boys and girls holding hands, kissing behind buildings, chasing each other along the beaches.
Plus—the condom bowl outside of the Medical Clinic was being filled up more often; it looked like we would definitely have to add more birth control to our scavenging lists.
And pregnancy kits.
* * * *
Even Jacob seemed happier around the new girls. I suppose it helped that they all seemed to adore him—probably because he was the one who, in essence, led them to the Point.
And let’s face it—Jacob was nice.
And handsome.
And had such b
eautiful ice-blue eyes.
Miley, the group’s leader, seemed to be especially taken with ‘my husband’. In fact, I was coming to believe that she had set her sights on him. I noticed that, wherever Jacob went, Miley was sure to show up—peppering him with eager questions and adoring comments.
The worst thing, though, was how Miley would find the weakest of reasons to bend over in front of Jacob (and she seemed to do it a lot), exposing her abundant cleavage or tight, little butt.
It made me cringe each time I saw it happen.
Perhaps if Jacob hadn’t been so unhappy for so long, I would have done something about it—grabbed Miley by the scruff of her neck and given her a good kick in the ass. But the truth was—in some ways—I thought Jacob needed the attention right now.
These girls—Miley included—were Jacob’s one success.
He had lost so many of his friends on his expedition—deaths and disappearances for which he felt completely responsible. At least, with these girls coming to the sanctuary of the Point, he had actually saved people.
For the first time in a long time—Jacob wasn’t feeling like he was a failure.
In fact, if anyone was feeling like a failure, it had to be—me.
Watching Miley openly flirt with my husband—and seeing how easily Jacob responded, it made me realize that my marriage, more than likely—was dying. And I didn’t really understand that because—no matter how angry and frustrated I was with Jacob—I knew, deep in my heart, that we belonged together.
It was our fate.
So, how was I losing something so important?
How was I losing Jacob?
Was I really such a massive failure?
