by N A Broadley
As she listened to the conversation, she shook her head. It was like this in her old neighborhood. In the beginning, the neighbors tried to help each other out, thinking that the situation would end, and everyone would be back to normal — kindness as one neighbor after another brought soup and medicine to those neighbors who were sick.
Then once they realized that things were only getting worse and there was no help coming, neighbors began to turn on each other. The stronger, stealing food and supplies from the weaker. It had become nasty and dangerous quickly. People she’d known for years, friends she’d spent summers picnicking and biking with had gone from being nice and polite to downright scary. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft touch to her shoulder, and she looked up to see Sarah standing beside her.
“What’s up kiddo?”
She watched as Sarah touched her stomach.
“Yeah, I’m hungry too. The soup should be just about ready.”
As if on cue, Jill hollered, her voice booming for a woman so small, as she motioned for everyone to gather at the picnic table where she had laid out bowls.
“C’ mon everyone. Let’s get it while it’s hot.”
Ellie and Bobby jumped from the tire swing and raced to grab their bowls. Stacy, carrying Jake on her hip, quickly followed. Beth grabbed an empty bowl for Sarah and scooped a ladle full of chicken soup into it when she felt Jill move up beside her.
“No, take more than just one ladle. That’ll never fill that child’s hungry belly.”
She looked at her and shook her head.
“No. There’s barely enough here to feed all these hungry mouths. I feel bad just taking this,” she replied.
Jill scowled and grabbed the ladle from her hand and scooped another helping into the bowl she was holding.
“It’s enough. Everyone will get fed. Trust me.”
Jill then began dishing soup out for every person. Beth saw that she had also set aside a large bowl of the broth to cool for Mia. Quiet filled the air as everyone settled into eating. It was funny how before the event Beth had thought nothing of tossing the broth from a chicken noodle soup into the drain. Now though, she slurped every last drop from her bowl as if it was the last meal she would ever eat. What she once took for granted was no more. She took nothing for granted — every drop of soup, every morsel of food.
After their meal and some quiet conversation, she looked up at the sky and shook her head. In a few hours, darkness would set in, and she would be on the move again. The thought made her cringe. Her legs were tired, her body ached. Pushing herself up from the table, she pulled Jim aside.
“I’ll leave you with enough medicine to get through. You need to follow my instructions and make sure that Mia gets every dose,” she explained. Jim nodded.
“Are you leaving?”
She cast her eyes skyward.
“Yeah, we’ve been traveling at night. It’s safer.”
“You could stay the night and head out tomorrow,” he suggested.
She shook her head. She came to help, and she did. These people had barely enough for themselves, never mind two extra mouths to feed. And besides that, she had an urge to push on. The AT was only a few short miles south of where she was, and if they hustled, they’d be able to make it easily in a few hours.
“No, Jim. I gotta push on,” she said softly. “But, I’ll leave you with everything you need for Mia. You should see improvement, if there is going to be any, within the next twenty-four hours. My advice to you is to get to the nearest library, find any medical books that are there, books about foraging, plants, herbalism and the like. Study them. Use them. Teach your children.“
Jim nodded. There was so much he didn’t know. He, like everyone else, had become so dependent on the conveniences of easy living that they gave no thought to what would happen if it all fell apart. That one little IF… had turned to certainty as the virus ran its course through America.
“I was lucky to have the medicine Mia needed, but it won’t last forever. And we can’t make any more like it. So, herbs are gonna be your medicine for the foreseeable future. That tree over there,“ she said, pointing to a tall and wispy willow, “the bark contains the same medicine that is in aspirin. It will help with pain and fever. Learn to use it and those plants around you,” she finished.
Jim nodded. She was right. They needed to learn how to navigate this new world by re-learning old ways. They needed to learn folk medicine, animal husbandry, gardening, and all those things that were left behind and forgotten by many.
“I will. How can I repay you for helping us?” he asked. They didn’t have much but if they had what she might need he’d gladly give it for what she’d done for Mia.
“Do you happen to have a pair of size six boots? Sarah is desperate for good boots. Her sneakers are in tatters, and her feet are chewed up with blisters,” Beth explained. Jim smiled.
“I do.”
Chapter Six
The sun set behind the mountain ridge, and she paused to watch it sink below the horizon. Golden light spilled over the green of the treetops. Gloaming. She remembered a book or was it a movie she had watched with that word in the title? It had sounded so romantic at the time. Now, the gloaming meant time to move, quietly and stealthily.
Jessie dog sniffed the ground ahead of her. Sarah followed behind. Boots slapped pavement with each step. Boots, good hiking boots, covered Sarah’s tender feet. Warm boots that would hopefully hold up for the journey ahead of them. She had felt a sadness leaving Jim and the group. Sadness and doubt.
Would Jim and his family make it? She guessed their chances would be about as good as her chances of surviving this. She could’ve stayed. But she cringed at the thought of another cold and snowy winter, at the thought of scavenging for wood, of being cold and hungry all the time. No, going south was the smartest thing to do. Where the climate was warmer, and there would be no hellish freezing temperatures and blasting snow and ice storms to deal with.
As darkness set in, their path was lit with the glow of a weak crescent moon. Shadows danced in and around the trees on the sides of the road. She stood in front of the trail sign. Appalachian Trail. They had made it to the trailhead. On a small wooden brown board were arrows pointing north and south. She would be southbound.
Patches of snow and ice mixed with mud covered the narrow path upward, upward into the mountains. Doubt filled her as she wondered if she was up to the challenge. A heaviness settled on her heart. A deep sadness almost too much to bear. This was not how she’d imagined entering the trailhead. It was so far from what she had planned. Her husband was supposed to be here with her and her daughter. Hugging her and seeing her off on a great adventure. She tensed her shoulders, took a deep breath, and let memories wash over her like a soft silken blanket.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Leading a mute girl and a dog over a thousand miles through God knew what kind of terrain and dangers. Shaking her head, she glanced over her shoulder to where Sarah stood on the blacktop. She could go back, back to where Jim lived and ask to stay with them. They could use her skills for sure. But she wouldn’t do that. Sighing deeply, she motioned for Sarah. As they walked, she talked quietly with Sarah.
“You could have stayed Sarah. They would have taken care of you.”
She felt Sarah grab her shoulder, and she turned and looked at her. The young girl shook her head, vehemently.
Nodding, she understood.
“Time to climb then girlie.”
∞
Sarah followed behind Beth. She let her eyes wander over this woman who had taken her in. She was thin. But then again, everyone was thin these days. And hungry. She thought about Beth telling her she could stay with the family she’d helped. She knew she could have, but something in her told her, Beth needed her as much as she needed Beth. Yes, staying with the family would have been easier than hiking along this icy, frozen trail. But somehow, she suspected, in the long run, it wouldn’t have been better for her.
> She liked Beth. She could see a kindness in her eyes. And, she could see that Beth was just as lost as she was. She was looking for a place to make a home. In that, she felt they were two kindred spirits. Lost, needing each other.
The pack on her bag weighed heavily on her shoulders, creating a hot and burning pain where the straps rubbed against her tender flesh. Grimacing, she shifted the weight to release some of the pressure. This pain was a mere inconvenience compared to what she’d been through. This pain she could live with. She made a mental note to see if Beth had a swatch of material that she could pad the straps with.
∞
It was late at night, and they were still moving. The sky was as dark as black ink. The crescent moon was dodging in and out from behind clouds. They climbed over rocks the size of Buicks and slipped on the ice as they were pounding through the mud and snow. Cold and wet. And they’d made three lousy miles. It was disheartening. Dawn was just a few hours away.
Beth finally gave into exhaustion, into the coldness, into the freezing water and slush that seeped into her boots. Sitting down on a boulder, she let her shoulders slump in defeat, and sighed tiredly.
“Okay, baby girl. I’m done for this night.”
Sarah nodded and moved up to sit beside her.
“We’ll make camp as soon as we can find a level spot kay?”
She felt rather than saw the relief from Sarah as the girl leaned her body against her. Pushing herself up from the boulder, she moved through the dark praying they wouldn’t have to go too much further before they found a suitable spot to set up the tent. She could hear the clicks of Jessie’s nails as they scraped against rocks that littered the trail and those rocks promised a twisted ankle if they weren’t careful.
She figured they were far enough up the trail and away from the small town of Gorham, New Hampshire that they’d be safe. Although Gorham had been eerily silent as they passed through, she spied some campfires in the distance. She tried to make sure no one had seen them as they skirted the town, but one never knew, and she wasn’t taking any chances.
Thus the push to get as far up in the mountains as possible. A person would have to be a fool to have tried to follow them. Besides that, she was confident that had they been followed, Jessie would already have alerted them.
In the weak light of dawn, she quickly set up the tent while Sarah lit the smokeless stove to make breakfast. They ate oatmeal again. The bland taste rolled across her tongue, thickly. It didn’t matter. She was too tired to care. Her legs and feet were on fire from the night’s exertion of climbing up steep, rock-strewn hills and her shoulders ached from carrying the heavy pack. A burning blister had formed on her baby toe, and the stinging pain reminded her that she would need to tend to it before it got worse.
Gulping down the oatmeal, she crawled into the tent just as the sun rose. Sleep. Hours of rest for her tired body. She looked over at Sarah, who was sharing the sleeping bag with her and smiled. No sooner had the girls head hit the rolled-up jacket used as a makeshift pillow she had fallen asleep. Jessie was stretched out beside them; her furry body pressed tight against Sarah’s back.
With a sigh, she let the night ease from her body. Now that they were on the trail and deep into the mountains, she could go back to traveling during the day. Day traveling would be much easier and leave them less prone to accidents.
Thankfully the White Mountain range was behind them as they entered the trail well beyond the treacherous Presidential Range. But the going would still be tough. And hiking at night, well that was just downright foolish and dangerous.
She woke to bright sunshine and bitterly cold temperatures. She could see her breath with each exhale. Judging from the light and the sun angle, she guessed it was just before or just after mid-day. That would give them a good six hours of hiking, which should put them closer to the Massachusetts border. They still had several mountains to traverse, but once past those, the hiking should get easier.
Doubting herself, she shook her head. Was she crazy for attempting this? Should she go back? Back to what? Back didn’t offer anything good. Forward only offered the unknown. Growling in frustration, she poked her head into the tent and called out to Sarah.
‘’C’ mon baby girl. Up and at ‘em.”
After a quick breakfast of dehydrated cheesy noodles with flakes of dehydrated tuna, she rinsed the cooking pot and tucked it into her pack. Everything tasted like cardboard. Flavorless and uninspiring.
From a nearby stream of snowmelt runoff, she filled two water bottles — one for herself and one for Sarah and added bleach to them. Anxious to put miles under her feet, she set off at a quick pace. Her knees screamed with pain, and she struggled back a moan. How many miles had she done in the past few days?
Walking in daylight, it was much easier to navigate the trail and sidestep the many obstacles. Rocks and branches Lay strewn in all directions from winter storms, icy spots that the sun hadn’t yet melted littered the trail. Sweat formed between her shoulders from the exertion and the rubbing of her heavy pack. She could hear Sarah behind her panting as she too struggled. The forest was filled with scents of pungent, sharp pine and the earthiness of rotted leaves. She took a deep breath, tasting the scents on her tongue. She loved the forest and had the situation been different; she would have been enjoying this hike.
Jessie bound ahead, sniffing and exploring. She envied the dog and her seemingly endless amount of energy. A loud snap of a branch breaking to the left of where she stood, brought her to a standstill. Jessie, sensing danger, made her way quickly to Beth’s side. Sarah, wide-eyed and frightened, slid behind her. She reached down for the gun on her hip, sliding it slowly from its holster. Holding her breath, she waited and a few seconds later, watched in amazement as a lumbering black bear crossed the trail a few yards ahead of them. It stopped, swayed its big head left then right, sniffed the air and grunted. Beth’s heart froze in her chest as fear tightened her gut. She looked at Sarah and with a firm hand, held onto the scruff of Jessie’s neck.
“Oh big boy, just mosey along okay?”
As if taking her advice, the bear gave them all one short glance and then bounded off into the thickets. A whooshing breath of relief escaped Beth’s lips, and she felt Sarah relax behind her.
“Shit that was too close.”
Sarah smiled, shakily, and nodded.
From deep in her mind, where the voices of the authors resided, she heard a chuckle and a whisper from D.J. Cooper.
“That was food, Beth. Good meat to fill your belly and you let it just pass you by girlfriend.”
Beth sighed from the depths of her tired body.
“I think it’s time to take a break.”
She slung her pack to the ground with a thud and sat down beside it. She could see that Sarah was tired, and she felt a twinge of guilt for pushing her so hard all afternoon. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out two strips of jerky, handing one to Sarah who took two bites in quick succession. The bear came to mind, and with a growl, she shook her head. Sarah looked at her with a queer expression, and Beth just smiled.
“It’s nothing. Just a pain in the ass thought.”
Sarah answered her with a shrug of her slim shoulders. Beth knew she understood that their food supply was limited, but this didn’t make her feel any better. D.J Cooper was right; she should have shot the bear. But then what? She had no idea how to gut it, to skin it, to process any of the meat?
She took several bites of her jerky and with a sigh, tossed the remainder to Jessie, who was sitting patiently at her feet staring up at her.
“Damn! You too? As if I don’t feel guilty enough. Why don’t you go hunt us down a rabbit or something?” Glancing over at Sarah, she laughed.
“Yeah, you think it’s funny? What I wouldn’t give for a rabbit stew right about now.”
Sarah nodded her head in agreement and rubbed her stomach for emphasis. Beth stood up and stretched, her sweaty shirt clinging to her body and wrinkled her nose as the musty,
sweaty odor that assaulted her nose. She would give her right arm for a warm shower about now, one with sweet smelling lilac soap and shampoo for her hair.
Sighing wistfully she turned to Sarah.
“Okay, we can get a few more miles behind us before dark so let’s get our asses in gear.”
Chapter Seven
Two more full days of hiking brought them to Massachusetts’s border and into the Berkshire Mountains. I-90 was about four miles, down-hill to the left of where she stood, according to her map. She had a decision to make.
Hike down to the highway, scavenge through the cars and trucks to find whatever supplies they could or travel deeper into the ninety-mile stretch ahead of them and hit the smaller back roads leading to smaller towns.
Chances were that the back roads and small towns would have had less traffic, thus, less stranded vehicles for her to scrounge through. And those they did find on the back roads would probably already be stripped clean of anything worthwhile. Ninety miles of trail before they would enter yet another state, Connecticut. Ninety miles at roughly ten miles of good hiking a day it would take nine to ten days to cross the Berkshires.
She’d heard this terrain wasn’t as treacherous or nearly as difficult as the Whites (the White Mountain Range) and she was praying this was true. They were both getting their hiking legs under them, but those first few days had taken its toll. They both had sore muscles, bruises, exhaustion. They would need a rest day soon. Turning to Sarah, she paused a moment and slid her heavy pack off of her shoulders and set it down on the dirt-packed trail.
