“Let her rest while you do the hard work, Papa,” Tabitha said, giving her grandson a wink. “Yeah, we’re all tired and cranky, but Greg is right, and we’ll be glad to get the next leg of the trip over with. Emma, you’re a good little cheerleader.” And with that, she turned and stepped back into her chamber, flinging the curtain out of her way with a sweep of her hand.
Emma’s room was another small alcove in the rock wall of the main chamber, separated by burlap curtains that had been hung from hooks her father had driven into the ceiling. Her sleeping bag was wedged into a narrow space against the wall. For furniture, she’d balanced a plank on two small boxes, and here she’d stacked some of her books, toiletries, and other personal items. Her clothes were mostly stuffed into a crate, but some of them had found their way into a messy pile on a blanket in the corner.
She started going through the room, picking up the loose articles of clothing and shoving them back into the crate. After a moment, she heard someone clearing her throat, and she looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing in a gap in the curtain.
“Sorry if I seemed disappointed in the news,” Marion said. “I’m just nervous about making the trip. The last few months have been rough.”
“But that’s why it’s good news, Mom,” Emma said, picking up a crumpled t-shirt and stuffing it into the crate. “We’ll be safer in the cabin. Like Grandma said, we’ll have a stove, real furniture, beds, all sorts of stuff.”
“I know,” Marion said softly. “It’ll be hard road, but it’s worth it. Just ignore my grumpy attitude. I’ll be fine.”
Emma nodded and continued picking up. Many times, she had daydreamed about riding back to Glenvell to retake their old family ranch, but she knew that was a foolish thought. Glenvell would never be home again. Even if they could take the ranch back, they would never feel safe living there, not with all of the new threats in the world. No, the hunting cabin was home now, and the sooner they got there the better, even if the road was hard.
Don’t be such a pessimist, Mom, Emma thought. It’s not like we’re headed for the North Pole.
By the time she’d rolled up her sleeping bag, folded the blankets, put away all of her books and knick-knacks, and deconstructed her crude table, the rest of her family was already in high gear. She heard the squeaking wheels of the furniture dolly, as her father pushed a big stack of crates out of the living room area. Emma met him just outside of her room, lugging her backpack and carrying the smallest box from her room.
“Don’t strain yourself,” he said, headed for the front chamber. “Let’s use the dolly for heavy stuff.”
“I know,” she replied, following him through the front curtains toward the wagon. “I’m fine. I’m just glad we’re finally leaving. I can’t believe how much snow we had this winter.”
“It was pretty typical for the area,” he replied. “We’ve just never had to trek over a mountain in it before, and that mountain pass isn’t easy even in the best of times. On top of that, we’re trying to drive a herd of cattle.”
“It’s going to be okay, isn’t it, Dad?”
She followed him to the back of the wagon. Once he’d lowered the tailboard, she set her crate on it.
“As long as the wagon holds up and doesn’t get stuck, we’ll be fine,” he replied. “We rode heavy on the way here, but the wheels are still in decent shape. I’m a little worried about the axles, but I made a few repairs to the frame. We should be fine.” He reached out and laid a hand on Emma’s back, giving her a reassuring smile. She wasn’t sure it was entirely genuine.
As her father began unloading the boxes from the dolly, Emma headed back to her room. Along the way, she saw Darryl frantically rooting through some boxes, muttering under his breath. On the ground nearby, Tuck’s old toolbox sat open, tools scattered on the ground.
“Hey, has anyone seen the old compass that was in here?” he asked. As Emma approached, he looked up at her. “Have you seen it?”
“No, I haven’t been in the toolbox lately,” she replied.
Darryl resumed rooting around in boxes, until Tabitha appeared and made an exasperated sound. “I thought we were supposed to be packing up and loading the wagon, not dumping everything on the ground.”
“Grandma, have you seen the compass that used to be in here?” he asked. “It belonged to Grandpa. It was in a leather carrying case. I’m pretty sure the brand name was Selsi or something like that. We used it when we lost the trail on the way to the winter camp, but I’m sure I put it back in the toolbox. At least, I think I did. I hope it didn’t get dropped somewhere along the way.”
“I’ll help you look,” Emma said, kneeling beside him.
“Thanks,” he replied, as he continued digging through boxes.
Emma picked her way through the toolbox, making sure it wasn’t tucked underneath something. Darryl might have overlooked it, after all. He wasn’t the best at finding lost things.
“Don’t worry about that old compass,” Grandma said. “We probably won’t need it. From here to the cabin the way is clearly marked.”
Emma didn’t find the compass anywhere in the toolbox, though she rooted in every corner. Finally, she began putting the tools back in place.
“I hate to lose it,” Darryl said with a sigh. “He used to take it with him when he went hunting. It’s a shame to lose something that reminds me of him.”
“Well, I can certainly relate to that feeling,” Tabitha said, “but we might just have to accept that it bounced off the wagon somewhere along the way. Let it go. Let’s load up and get out of here. We have a long way to go.”
Darryl shook his head, grabbed up a bunch of towels and blankets and shoved them back into a crate. “Let’s just hope we don’t end up needing it.”
“As long as we stick to the trail, we’ll be fine,” Tabitha said. “I remember the way. Heck, I even know a shortcut that will shave off a few kilometers.”
2
The baby clothes were all folded up at the bottom of the box, waiting to be used. Darryl pressed them down firmly to make room for Justine’s clothes. She had a fairly limited wardrobe, comprised almost entirely of t-shirts, hoodies, and sweatpants, all in dark colors. The girl definitely had a distinct look.
“Maybe we should give it a few more days,” Justine said. She was rolling up her sleeping bag in the corner. “Not that I want to stay here, by any means, but if the pass just opened up today, a few more days of warm weather will only help, don’t you think?”
“Maybe so,” Darryl replied, putting the lid onto the crate of clothing, “but I also think people want to get the heck out of this cave, you know?”
“Add me to that list,” Justine said, “but going over the mountain is going to be a big pain in the butt. We’ve got a bunch of cattle and supplies. What if we get all the way up there and find that some of the trail is gone, washed away, or snowed in, or we get lost?”
Indeed, he’d had this very thought. It was the reason he’d gone looking for Tuck’s old compass. On a cloudy day, with no obvious trail, it was far easier to get lost in the wilderness than he’d expected. They’d had a hard enough time trying to find the winter camp after the pass had proved impassible.
“We’ll just have to hope for the best,” he said, “but the fact is, most of those things will still be possible in a week, or a month. Waiting longer won’t make a washed-away trail come back.”
She gave him a look that suggested she didn’t find his words comforting. He went to her side and put his arms around her. Initially, she just tolerated the embrace. But finally, she warmed up and returned it.
“I just want civilization again,” she said. “I’m tired of living like pioneers in the seventeenth century.”
“It’ll be a lot better at the cabin,” Darryl said. “We can fix it up and make it nice.”
“First we have to get there.”
“We will,” he said. “I’ll make sure of it. Trust me.”
“I do trust you,” she sai
d. “But you don’t control nature.”
Once all of Justine’s things were packed up, Darryl went looking for the furniture dolly. He found his father at the back of the wagon, stacks of boxes and barrels around him. He was slowly loading them one by one, but he had a scowl on his face. The furniture dolly was on the ground beside the back wheel.
“Is there a problem, Dad?” Darryl said, as he picked up the dolly. He’d quickly learned, in their current living situation, not to let things fester. It was better to make sure his Dad put everything out into the open. The man tended to brood privately, and that only led to trouble.
“I’m just trying to figure out how to get everything into the wagon,” Greg said, hoisting a small barrel into the back. “We’ve acquired a bit of stuff here at the camp.” He gestured toward an open box. It contained a bunch of rusted old tools and scrap metal that they’d found in a back room of the cave. “Hopefully, there will still be room for all of our people, but it might be a tight fit.”
“Why do we need to bring all this junk?” Darryl asked. “We can leave half our stuff here and be just fine, Dad.”
Darryl was looking into the back of the wagon and trying to imagine poor Justine being all scrunched up between the boxes and crates. As his father continued to slide more and more boxes into the back, it only got worse. She would have more room if she rode up front on the driver’s seat, but Darryl didn’t think she would do that.
“I don’t want to leave anything behind,” Greg said, hoisting the big box of junk tools and scrap metal into the back of the wagon. “You never know what we might need once we get to the hunting cabin.”
Shaking his head, Darryl took the furniture dolly back to Justine. All of her things had now been packed away, and whatever illusion of a bedroom the cave chamber had held was gone. It was, after all, just an irregular space at the back of a cave.
“We’re going to be in the wagon all day, aren’t we?” Justine said. “I’d better sit in the very back so I can barf my brains out when the fancy takes me. Hopefully, Horace will trade places with me. I know he likes being the lookout.” She rose, pulling her hood up.
Pregnant, still suffering from morning sickness, and crammed into the back of an overfull wagon. Darryl didn’t like it, and as he pushed the boxes back through the cave, he again thought of all the unnecessary stuff they were lugging along. The journey from the ranch to the camp had been bad enough, with everyone crammed onto the back bench, but Justine was very pregnant now. When he returned to the wagon, he found his father tucking smaller boxes under the bench.
“Dad, I really think we need to leave some of this stuff behind,” Darryl said. “Why are we taking all of the old junk we found here at the camp?”
“If something breaks, we may need the scraps to make repairs,” his father replied, climbing out of the wagon. “I don’t want to leave anything behind and then realize I need it somewhere down the road.”
“Yeah, but we have to fit actual people in this wagon,” Darryl replied, unloading Justine’s stuff beside the other stacks. “You know how tough this ride is going to be for Justine? She’s still sick almost every morning, and she’s always uncomfortable. We need to get to the cabin as fast as we can, because the longer it takes, the harder it’s going to be on her and the baby.”
Greg just stood there for a moment, chewing on his lip.
“We don’t need to become hoarders just to survive,” Darryl added. He knew he was pushing things, but he felt strongly about this. More than that, he knew his dad could be stubborn. “We have to prioritize people.”
He’d gone too far, and he knew it. A look flashed briefly across his father’s face: eyebrows down, lips pressed tightly together, nose scrunched up. Darryl anticipated the anger and braced himself to stand his ground for Justine’s sake. But then the look passed, and his father resumed loading the wagon.
“I understand how you feel,” Greg said. “I really do. You’re worried about the mother of your child, and you’re right to make that your first concern.” It was a remarkably civil, even compassionate response, that reminded Darryl just how much things had changed between them. Could they actually have a decent conversation about something when they were of contrary opinions? “Here’s the thing, son. We can’t anticipate any and every problem, so we have to be ready for things we haven’t even thought of. That’s how we’ll keep everyone safe.”
Darryl knelt beside the big open crate full of junk. He picked up a leather boot with a huge hole in the sole. “Really? Is there a problem that would require an old boot?” He tossed the boot back into the crate and picked up a small hatchet with a broken handle. “Or tools we can’t even use? Dad, you’ve got a pair of jeans in here with a hole in the crotch, a couple of chipped glass jars wrapped in filthy rags. This stuff is never going to be useful, is it? It’s basically someone’s garbage.”
“It might be,” he replied, maintaining a remarkably even tone. “Broken tool handles can be repaired. The leather from that boot could prove useful. The cloth from the jeans, the glass from those jars—you never know. Look, it’s not just for the journey today. The hunting cabin is isolated and private. No one’s going to bother us up there. We’ll have all the time in the world to build and repair and make things, but only if we bring plenty of materials with us. You’re looking into that crate and seeing junk instead of thinking about the possibilities.”
“Oh, I’m thinking about possibilities all right,” Darryl replied. He was tempted to raise his voice, but his father had stayed so calm. If Greg could manage a civil discussion, so could he. “The possibilities of what might happen if we overload the wagon, if we get bogged down on the mountain pass, or if the travel is too rough for the people—yes, Justine, in particular. I see where you’re coming from, Dad, but I’m prioritizing people over junk.”
“Me too,” Greg said. “I always prioritize the people. That’s my whole point.”
Darryl heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Tabitha and Marion approaching. By the looks on their faces, it was clear they had overheard at least some of the debate. Between them, they were lugging a big sack of folded linens.
“Well, it sounds like the two of you are least being civil,” Marion said. “Is this really the best time to have an impassioned debate about what to bring and what to leave behind? We’ve had the whole winter to figure it out.”
“I think we’re at an impasse,” Greg said. He started to reach for the crate full of junk, but he paused and grabbed another box instead, hoisting it up into the wagon. “Darryl wants to travel light; I want to bring everything. What do you two think?”
Tabitha and Marion traded a look, as if waiting to see which of them would go first.
“Well, I’m with Greg,” Tabitha said, setting the sack of linens down. “I think we should bring absolutely everything we can. I haven’t been to the cabin in years, so I’m not sure what we’ll find there. The roof might have collapsed. It might be infested with vermin. Who knows? The more resources we have, the better our chances of being able to address any problems.”
“I think you’re jumping the gun,” Marion said. “Before we can worry about what we find at the cabin, we have to worry about getting there. The journey ahead is the most important thing right now. If we’re overloaded, we’re going to travel a lot slower, and we might struggle to even get over the mountain.”
“So it’s a tie,” Greg said, shaking his head. “We’re still at an impasse.”
Now, Darryl was struggling not to get really annoyed. At this point, he was ready to suggest that they build a second wagon. Maybe they could somehow get the cows to pull the damn thing? Whatever it took to make Justine more comfortable. He was still kneeling beside the crate of junk, but he was at a loss for words.
“Should be play a round of rock-paper-scissors to settle the debate?” Marion asked. She didn’t sound like she was completely joking.
“I’ll settle it.” Justine’s voice. Darryl turned to see his girlfriend ste
pping through the curtains, her hands on her belly.
“We were just debating—” Greg started to say.
“I know. I heard it all,” Justine replied. “Sorry, Darryl, but your dad and grandma are right. Take everything. I can handle being crunched up in the back. You never know what we might need. Okay?” She gave each person a lingering look, one by one. “There. No need for rock-paper-scissors. Bring it all, and I’ll be just fine. I’m not so delicate, you know. Thanks.”
And with that, she turned, sighed, and walked back through the curtains. Darryl felt chastened. He’d been trying to advocate for her comfort, but in the process, he’d made her feel awkward about being in the center of an argument.
“Are you okay with that, son?” Greg asked.
Darryl appreciated the question. It was clearly an attempt to prevent hurt feelings. “Yeah, if she’s fine with it, I’m fine with it. Let’s load up.” To prove he meant it, he wrapped his arms around the crate of junk and struggled to hoist it up. Greg had to bend down and help him, and they managed to get it onto the lowered tailboard of the wagon.
“Look, I’ll make sure the trip goes as smoothly as possible,” Greg said. “That’s my promise to you and Justine.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Darryl replied.
But as he said it, he heard the back axle let out a loud groan. The sideboards were already lined with boxes and barrels from front to back, and they had a lot more to go. Greg didn’t seem bothered by the noise from the wagon’s underbelly, as he proceeded to shove the big crate of junk beside the back bench.
“It’ll ride heavy, but I did some work on the wagon over the winter,” Greg said. “It’ll hold up.”
And then, even as the words were still leaving his lips, the axle gave another loud groan. Then it snapped with sudden violence. The back right wheel broke free of its hub and fell over, and the whole back corner of the wagon crashed down. Greg fell off the tailboard, landing among their supplies, and the crate of junk slid backward. It hit the back leg of the bench, spun, and tipped over, gushing broken tools, scrap metal, and tattered clothes all over the cave floor, as Darryl danced backward out of the way. Other bags and barrels soon followed, sliding down the slope, many of them tipping over, tumbling, scattering their contents all over the ground.
Survive the Journey (EMP Page 2
