“Tracy,” I said. “How about you let Jordan set that down, it’s hot.”
“It’s chocolate cheesecake,” she said as if it explained everything.
To her, it probably did. I know how to end a fight with her, I’d figured it out from her mother in the early 90s.
“I’ve got a few Hershey bars I was saving for s’mores in one of my buckets— “
She made one last stab for the cheesecake, and Jordan ended up tripping over his own legs as she snatched the towel wrapped handles out of his hands and let out an inarticulate cry of joy. I busted up laughing and Brian was wiping his eyes. Just like that, I felt the rampant hatred I’d nursed for years leaving me. The simple act of good-natured horseplay in what I considered to be a grim situation made me see how shallow my continued anger was. I couldn’t forgive her all at once, and maybe not even completely, but it was a start.
Jordan was also laughing at this point, watching Tracy putting the cheesecake on the windowsill near the sink to cool down.
“That was… unexpected,” I admitted.
“You really were trying to bury the hatchet, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am. I think we’re going to be up here a long time,” I said.
Jordan had been watching and he just nodded in agreement before adding, “that’s why we’ve been getting all the firewood we can. I know Tom has an idea about food, but I’m worried about the cabin here.”
“The cabin?” we both asked, “What’s wrong with the cabin?” Brian finished as Tracy came up and stood next to him.
“It isn’t insulated,” Tracy said to Brian, “you’ll probably have to have four times as much wood with no insulation.”
“What do we do about that?” Jordan asked.
“Wait, I didn’t think you believed that we’re really stuck here?” I asked.
They looked at each other and then turned to me. Brian spoke, “We’ve been talking. Shouldn’t we even see military transport planes from time to time up here?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess we should,” I admitted.
“There aren’t any planes, none at all,” Tracy said. “So we talked about what it’d be like up here… Living off the land.”
“You hate camping,” I told her, not sure if that was a question or a statement.
“It is what it is. Without a float plane, we’re stuck up here anyways. We were talking about the emergency kit from the plane. If we can get that, there’s a flare gun. We can probably signal to somebody if they ever do fly near here. Not all planes will have been affected, right?”
“No, most military stuff should be fine, but it’s worrying that we haven’t seen anything. If we knew what was going on in the rest of the world…”
“That’s just it, they might be at war. We might be in the best possible place. You never know…”
“Hey, let’s can the doom and gloom talk,” Tracy interrupted. “Let’s eat, the cheesecake will be cool by then, and we can make plans and schemes later, now that we’re all getting along.”
“We are, aren’t we?” Brian asked.
“He brought cheesecake,” Tracy said, pointing at me with the Swiss army knife. “He knows how to say sorry. You could really learn something from him.”
“Oh God,” Brian murmured, and we all laughed.
5
The next few days had us trying to figure out what our plan of attack was. The scraps of plywood were all brought inside. The first order of business was to insulate the roof of the small 10x20 cabin. Luckily, nobody had thought to burn the building scraps and had instead left them in the shed. Most of them were squared off chunks, so of course the best ideas on how to insulate the roof fell onto… Jordan.
Yeah, it wasn’t my idea but as soon as he mentioned it, I slapped my head in an “OH MY GOD THAT’S BRILLIANT!” type of moment. The idea was to nail the wood to the uncovered trusses and then pile in layers of leaves and pine needles from the woods. It might not be the cleanest form of insulation, but it was a good start. The problem was that we wouldn’t have enough scraps to cover the entire ceiling of the cabin with wood. This is where I got my turn to shine. I found a blue tarp and, to me, the problem was solved.
That’s how I ended up holding a coffee table steady as Jordan hammered in looted roofing nails from a half used up box we found near the roofing materials. Brian and Tracy were trying their hand at food production: fishing. It was ridiculously easy to catch fish, but would that change in a week? In a month? We’d been here for over a week now without anybody checking on us. The fact that nobody came for Bill was troubling as well because we were just a few tourists, and Bill was a known entity.
“Ok, I got it,” Jordan said jumping down, wiping the sweat off his brow.
“Hot up there?” I asked him.
“It is now that the heat stops lower instead of going up to the roof. It’s a funky looking drop ceiling. Let’s get it filled by section and make sure it holds.”
* * *
It took us two days to get the ceiling of the cabin covered with tarp and wood scraps and to fill it in with dried leaves and pine needles. We didn’t know how much of an R value it had, so we went deep, using an old table cloth to pile up the leaves and transport them. The plastic cloth was old and cracked with age, but it was serviceable. The first day that Tracy and Brian caught way too many fish to process at once, a few spoiled before we were able to get them on the smoker. We also wasted a fair amount on the smoker, almost burning the bottom racks black before we got the hang of it.
It was going to be interesting, but we each had our own projects to figure out. We were scratching our heads over how to insulate the walls when I heard Tracy scream. Jordan took off like a shot, but I ran towards my cot and my big backpack and duffel. I took out the Henry camp gun. It was a risk bringing the gun on this trip because we weren’t going to be doing any hunting really, but I didn’t like to go anywhere without one. The Henry AR7 looks like the stock of a gun, but it’s what’s inside of the stock that makes it go ‘boom’.
I pulled the butt plate off and started to assemble the gun even as I was walking out the front door… to see three bears digging through the dirt near the fish cleaning station. I had three magazines, all .22LR, but in different variations. One was loaded with rat shot, one was loaded with hollow points and one was loaded with ball ammo. That was what I put in, and I prayed I wouldn’t have to actually have to use it to defend myself if push came to shove.
There was one larger bear who seemed totally unimpressed by Brian’s yelling and Tracy’s shrill cries. The smaller two bears, however, were looking. Tracy picked up a stick just as I put a magazine in the now assembled firearm, and racked the slide. She threw the stick from about twenty feet away and it smacked one of the smaller bears in the head, right when I realized what I was seeing. A momma bear and her two almost grown cubs.
The cub let out a yowl that made momma look up. She stood up on her hind legs, blowing and huffing at the humans who were now encroaching on her, and threatening her cubs. Her attention was not focused solely on Tracy.
“Don’t do that!” I screamed from the opposite side, drawing the attention of all three.
I couldn’t see Jordan; he must have gone off somewhere out of sight. I couldn’t take a direct shot towards the bears because Brian and Tracy were in the crossfire, so I aimed at the ground and squeezed off a shot. The pop was loud and a small amount of dirt kicked up at my feet. It had an effect, though. All three bears startled and the mother dropped to all fours. She was walking backward and to the side, keeping the lake to her right flank as she backed up.
The cub let out a squall and as I was turning to take aim just in case they turned in ran. Feeling smug, I held up my little rifle letting out a battle cry of my own, realizing that everyone had been screaming. Except I hadn’t noticed who was screaming behind me. I turned and saw that Jordan was advancing from behind the cabin, running with a long oar, probably a backup from the shed, shrieking like a banshee. The th
ree of us turned and watched as he ran towards the bears, screaming his fool head off. They lumbered away slowly and barely gave him a look. He stopped near the dock panting, and put the handle of the oar on the ground and leaned on it, his chest heaving.
“Are you ok?” I yelled loudly.
“I’m good. You ok, Tom?” Tracy yelled back.
I nodded. We all were walking towards the dock, where Jordan wearily leaned on the oar. I knew he was feeling the adrenaline dump because the danger was over yet he was still shaking. Hell, I was starting to get the shakes. I made sure the AR-7 was on safe and put it on the picnic table as I passed it.
“What were you thinking?!” Brian asked as I drew near.
“I was trying to scare it off. It worked, obviously,” she chided.
“My shot scared them off,” I added.
“You’re all wrong, didn’t you listen to Bill about what to do in a bear attack or a near bear attack?” Jordan asked, exasperatedly.
“Lay down and pretend you’re a chicken nugget?” Tracy asked sweetly and batted her eyelashes.
That broke the tension and we laughed for a good bit. As they started retelling the bear story to each other, I went to the cleaning station where the bears had been and frowned. The bears had turned over the dirt in a couple of places, and I could see fish scales and bits and pieces of fish. Instead of bagging the offal and taking it far off to dump elsewhere when they were cleaning fish, they had just dug a hole next to the cleaning station and buried the guts and heads.
“Hey, Brian,” I called, and in a moment, he was beside me.
“Remember how they said not to keep food outside and close to the cabin?” I asked him, sort of pissed.
I mean, would the bears be back later on? Now that they knew where the food was, they were bound to come back and a mother with cubs was supposed to be a fearsome critter. I had no doubt that my little .22 would merely piss it off, but the report had clearly startled it, no matter how scary Jordan thought he looked waving that oar around.
“Oh, man,” Brian said. “That’s my fault. It was getting dark and I was going to dig that up and move it later today.”
“We should do it before it gets dark,” I said. “This could have been really ugly.”
Jordan and Tracy stepped in close to look at the hole the bears had dug up, and then to us.
“They were just going for the easier meal,” Jordan observed.
“Let’s dump the guts far down the shoreline,” Tracy suggested. “Get them going somewhere else.”
“I don’t know if it’s worth using the gas, but I’m all for that, for a while at least,” Brian said. “We only have so much gas, and if we’re really caught out here…”
“We have to make it last,” I said, “but it won’t last forever. Gas goes bad over time.”
“What would you suggest?” Tracy asked.
“Make your husband get a shovel and a bucket…”
* * *
It became apparent to us rather quickly that fish jerky would be easy to make, but without salt or seasoning it would definitely be difficult to make it all winter on that alone. I’d started dreaming of hamburgers early on when I’d realized I probably wouldn’t have another. Gradually, a big chunk of meat became something I desperately wanted to get my hands on. In theory, my .22 could drop a moose or caribou or whatever, with the proper placement. I didn’t trust myself to do that so I started scheming ways of trapping them. Going back to my roots as a kid. The problem was I didn’t have any snares big enough, nor heavy duty enough. to take down any sort of large game.
I was staring out at the water again, sitting on the end of the dock when it came to me. The airplane. It was full of cables and parts we could use. The controls on the small Cessnas were all cable driven, and the plane had only been in the water a week. If we were lucky, corrosion wouldn’t have set in yet.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Tracy asked, sneaking up behind me again.
“I want a burger,” I admitted, “and I’m scheming ways to get some. Or a mooseburger. Something. I just…” I broke off and looked up at the sky. I could feel the dock move as more people stepped out, and I saw the guys heading towards us.
“Pop a squat,” I offered and she did, putting her bare feet in the water.
“How’s it going?” I asked Brian as he got close.
“Latest batch of fish is on the smoker. We’re good for a while. I was wondering what you were thinking?” Brian asked me.
“Why does everyone suddenly care what I’m thinking?” I asked, curious.
“We’re now on what, day 9 and haven’t seen a plane…” Jordan said. “And you’re the one with a plan for this sort of situation.”
“I don’t have a plan exactly,” I admitted, “but I’ve given this stuff a lot of thought.”
“Well, we have about a week’s worth of fish jerky,” Tracy said, “but I don’t know how long it’ll last in the cabin, and I don’t trust leaving it outside of the cabin because those bears might come back…”
“Isn’t there a trapdoor by the back door?” I asked them.
Jordan nodded. “I checked that out actually. It’s part of the cistern system. I’m sure they pump the cistern full from the lake once in a while, filter it or treat it… But the plumbing access is down there.”
“But the sink runs on a hand pump,” Tracy said.
“Water’s water, tank, ground, well…” Her husband said, sitting behind her, wrapping her in his arms. “You have to pump it to where you want it. Hand pump, solar pump, electric pump…”
“Ok, but what’s that got to do with anything?” Jordan asked me.
“Can we get to the dirt, or is it cement down there?” I asked.
“It’s dirt. The whole place was built over a footing and cement block with a dirt floor. There're some layers of visqueen down there but…”
“That’s perfect,” I told him, “Let’s check it out!”
We followed Jordan over to the trapdoor that led to the access and dropped down. I was surprised when he went almost waist deep to the floor. He crouched lower and disappeared. I followed him down. Immediately I crouched and tried to see around in the dark. Thankfully, the footing wasn’t poured concrete, it was cinder blocks on top of whatever footing material they’d used. It was what we’d call a Michigan basement or half basement. Set into the cinder block were two glass block casement-sized windows, illuminating parts of the basement.
Cobwebs brushed against my face as I crawled out of the way and Brian poked his head down into the hole.
“There’s a lot of room down here,” he said.
“Cistern tank is really close to the trapdoor. What do you think if we dug something over here?” I asked, pointing.
“That’d work, what would we use to line it with?” Brian asked me.
“What are you guys talking about?” Jordan asked, crawling back towards us on his hands and knees.
“Going to dig a hole in the damp soil here, use one of the trash cans and then bury it up to the lid. We can start putting the jerky into some of those clear bags they left us for fish guts, and then put them in the can. It’d stay what, 55-60 degrees at the most?” Brian asked me, obviously catching on to my idea.
“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was thinking,” I admitted. “But we have to do more than just fish. If I don’t get a Big Mac sometime soon, I might just go crazy.” I said smiling.
“Too bad there aren’t any cows around here,” Jordan said. “I know we’re trying to stretch our supplies, but I’m getting sick of fish.”
“The horror,” Tracy teased. “The fishing trip isn’t even over yet. Besides, I think Tom has a scheme in his head on how to get the burger. Don’t you Tom?”
My grin was big and wide. “You guys are going to love this.”
Their groans were long and loud. I barely held in a belly laugh.
6
Of course, I’d packed about 8 pounds of books for the trip and about half of that was
dedicated to foraging and what edible plants were available in Michigan. I knew a lot of it by heart, but we were in Canada; close enough but there were some things that I was sure were different. I couldn’t be the only one with the knowledge, though, it had to be spread out. And so, my nefarious plans for getting a burger, or, at least, a steak burger, were hatched.
In my dried food storage, I had packed in a small amount of flour, baking soda, baking powder, some yeast, and a 2# pack of cornmeal. We would quickly run out of flour to make bread, but I had another idea, one I thought would be perfect since it was summer, and things ran a little later in the season than they did back home.
“You want me to shake the pollen out of the cattails?” Tracy asked dubiously.
“Yeah, and then dig it up, roots and all. Cut off the roots and bring those back too!”
“You’re so weird,” Tracy said after a second and left, not quite stomping.
“Is that busy work, or is it really going to help us out?” Brian asked, watching his wife leaving with amusement.
“No, it’ll work. I haven't done it myself, but I’ve read about it. I haven’t seen any acorns around here, you can make flour with those too you know?”
“I’ve heard. Hey, wouldn’t it be smart for us to collect those also? Nuts I mean?”
“There’s too many in this shack already,” Jordan said, “And the smoker is overflowing again. We gotta do something about that, man.”
He was right, we did. We ended up washing and hosing out the big garbage cans and burying them like we had planned. Tracy, being the smallest in the group, was not happy with her task of having to crawl inside of the large (supposedly) bear-proof bins and hit them with a rag and soapy water. She came out quite a sight and, I must admit, I laughed until she threatened my very existence. Since the end of our fishing trip had arrived and passed, and there was still no plane, reality had kicked in and we’d all talked about projects that needed to be done.
I explained about salvaging everything we could from the plane and the broken wing sections. I was hoping to gain a few hundred feet of heavy cable, the first aid kit, the emergency kit, and if they could locate it, the emergency beacon. Like Bill’s rescue, it would mean all of us going out; one to run the boat, two to dive and get supplies and the third for relief or rescue. Since I was the best at keeping the boat in place, I had been designated the man for holding the boat in one spot.
Northern Lights: A Scorched Earth Novel Page 4
