TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  The girl walked gingerly into the water; then, shocked by its frigid temperature, stopped. After a moment, she bravely went on. One by one, they followed. Though they were all frightened, there were no tears. Alex watched anxiously from the shore as they slowly made their way into the river. They held their ground amid the rushing water, not one of them faltered.

  She waited until they reached a big bolder nearly a third of the way across before grabbing up her stick and the rope. She breathed in deeply, staring across the river. The opposite shore was just a few hundred feet away. Alex could manage the shallows on either side, but the center section, where the water was deepest and flowing fastest, terrified her. She was a poor swimmer. She could dog paddle, float, and tread water, none of which would help her in this torrent. The river bottom was pockmarked with deep holes and slippery rocks. One false step and she'd tumble into the drink. Be dragged under, disappearing into the mud and slime. She walked out slowly, her heart racing as the water washed against her legs. She focused her eyes on the safety of the opposite bank, refusing to give in to her fear. Up ahead, Michelle lost her footing and fell sideways into the water, pulling Lindsey in with her. After floundering for a moment, both struggled to their feet again, emerging from the water unharmed.

  Alex felt the rope grow taut. Digging her stick in, she gave it a tug, then turned to look back over her shoulder. The carrier was in the water, but grounded on the rocks of the shallows. She took another tentative step forward and pulled. There was resistance; it still wasn't afloat, the heavy load weighing it down. So far so good, she told herself as the water deepened. And so it went, step after tedious step. Occasionally her foot slipped on the precarious, algae-covered rocks; but she'd steady herself with her stick, all the while pulling her cargo behind her, the muscles in her arm straining to inch it forward.

  The big rock was just 30 feet away when she felt the rope give. Startled, she turned to see the carrier bobbing in the water. The rope began to tighten in her hand. She didn't need to look to know that the current was carrying it downstream. As quickly as she could, she continued making her way toward the jutting rock as the flow caused the carrier to bounce and jerk. She dug the stick in deeper as the supplies moved in an arc behind her.

  The rope dug into her palm as she held tightly to the load, battling the rushing water. She struggled to the rock, and, bracing both herself and her stick against it, began to pull as hard as she could. Slowly the carrier floated toward her, zigzagging through the water. Wrapping the rope around her arm, she grasped the wooden staff in her left and plunged it into the rocks some four feet ahead of her. She stepped to it, the rope tightening across the jagged stone. Ahead, no more than six feet away, its top a few inches under water, was another boulder. Her arm hurt something awful as the rope pulled, tightening around it like a tourniquet. Alex could see dark spots, deep holes, all around her. She moved ahead, momentarily losing her footing as she sunk into hip deep water, the force of the current threatening to knock her legs right out from under her. From behind, she could hear a harsh grating sound as fiberglass scraped against stone. Alex looked back, relieved to see the carrier propped against a rock. Shaking her arm, she unwound a few feet of rope and then, pressing on, arrived at the submerged rock. Pausing to catch her breath, she unwrapped the remainder of the rope from her arm, rubbing it to restore the circulation. Ahead, the worst was yet to come as the water deepened, churning and bubbling as it made its way between the submerged boulders. Clasping the loop firmly in her fingers, she looked out over the water to the others. They'd already cleared the worst of the rapids unscathed. Their ordeal was nearly over.

  She'd only gone another 20 feet when she felt the rope tighten, there was no more slack to be had. Another step or two and the carrier would slip from its position behind the rock and once again be swept into the current. She looked around frantically for another rock to temporarily anchor herself to, but though she strained to see beneath the foaming flow, she couldn't locate one. She probed the bottom with her stick, finding that there were sinkholes to her left and directly in front of her. To the right was a gradual slope. Fearful of the deeper water, she changed direction, planning to go around the hazard.

  She jabbed her pole into the river bottom, but as she lifted her foot, the rocks began to dislodge. Alex tried to maintain her balance, but it was no use. The stick fell from her hand as she pitched forward. She took a deep breath and prepared for the worst, plunging into the icy water. Her arm jerked back as the carrier rounded the edge of the rock and was dragged into the roiling water. She flailed and screamed, her body disappearing into the rushing stream. She thrashed around, attempting to stay afloat, but the force of the flow dragged her under. Feeling rocks beneath her feet, she pushed hard trying to propel herself back to the surface, but it was useless. The more she struggled, the deeper into the hole she sank. Panic gripped her as she kicked and clawed at the water, trying to find something, anything to hold onto. Her chest hurt as she held her breath and fought to stay alive.

  The rope grew taut again. Holding it tightly in her hand, she felt herself being pulled up to the surface. Just when her lungs felt ready to explode, her head bobbed above the water.

  She gasped for air, then vanished in the torrent. Alex tried to swim, moving her arms and kicking her legs in a frantic effort to save herself, but, strength waning, she could do little more than keep herself from being dragged along the bottom. The rope gave a sharp tug, pulling her up a rocky incline, depositing her on a shoal in the middle of the river, no more than two feet deep.

  Alex bounced in and out of the water, fighting for every breath. She bent her knees, trying to slow her movement forward, hoping to gain a foothold, but the carrier was too heavy to hold back as it jerked and bobbed.

  Something sharp ripped her jeans, tearing the skin beneath. Though she struggled, no amount of effort by her tired arms could stop her from being sucked into the turbulent water, surging between the jagged rocks ahead. There was a crashing sound as the carrier slammed into first one rock then another. The only way to save herself was to let go of the rope, yet she refused, holding it tightly in her hand.

  The river bottom sloped away. There was deep water ahead. Alex held her breath as she was dragged under again. Fear overwhelmed her. She was going to die here, wriggling like a worm on a hook. Scenes from her past flashed in her mind, like pages turning faster and faster. At first, the images were clear, but then they began to blur as she descended into darkness.

  With her last ounce of strength, her hands pushed up from the bottom, her back arching, head lifting. The wind whipped her hair as she surfaced. Eyes opening wide, she filled her lungs with air, and coughed out water. Dazed, Alex looked around and struggled to her knees. She was on a gravel bank jutting out of the water. Less than a hundred feet of shallow, ankle-deep water lay between her and land.

  Breathing hard, she stared at the shoreline with a mixture of confusion and elation. She'd come through the ordeal alive! Shivering from the cold, she forced herself to her feet. The movement made her wince in pain. Her jeans were ripped and around the tears were splotches of blood. She ached all over, but the pain was overshadowed by the joy she felt at being alive. Suddenly remembering, she looked down at her hand. The rope was slack, wriggling in the water like a snake. Fearing the worst, she frantically searched the river for some sign of the carrier. She breathed a sigh of relief when she caught sight of it not more than 100 feet downstream. It had run aground in the shallows a few feet from shore.

  She began limping toward it, slipping and sliding on the rocks, falling only to rise again. Having come this far, nothing was going to deter her now. Dripping wet and shivering with cold, Alex finally reached it. After quickly examining the contents and satisfying herself that the damage was minimal, she tied the rope to what remained of the broken handle and began to pull it onto the shore. When her feet touched solid ground, she suddenly felt faint. She needed to rest, but didn't dare; the rain clouds were coming
closer with every passing minute. Throwing the rope over her shoulders, she began dragging it upstream to where the trail to the cave began.

  Rounding the bend, she could see them running toward her, faces pale with fear. They flocked around Alex, smothering her with hugs, all talking at once, each requiring reassurance that she was OK. The only one who didn't come to greet her was Tori. She was off somewhere in another world, a prisoner of her own thoughts as she looked back across the river. Justin. Deana, and Lindsey took the rope from their aunt and began trudging through the brush to the base of the cliff, the smaller ones following along behind.

  Cat slipped her arm around Alex's shoulder, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "I thought you were going to drown; I thought we'd lost you," she said, teary-eyed.

  "You weren't the only one," Alex confessed, "I thought I was a goner too."

  "I prayed for you." Cat's words were heartfelt.

  Normally, Alex would rib her sister, making fun of her religiosity, but not this time. "Thank you," she responded, offering a tired smile. Their attention turned to Tori, whose solitary form stood outlined against a backdrop of green, gold, orange, and red. "Tori come on," she called, but her words fell on deaf ears. "Victoria!" This time the tone was insistent.

  She turned to them, then, taking one last look across the water, sadly began walking, falling in step behind the children.

  The climb was steeper than she'd remembered, but that was due to the fact that it was made with bruised and bleeding knees. The adults seemed to have a worse time of it then the children. It was the kids that scampered up and down the cliff face, bringing up the supplies, while she and Cat collected deadfall to block off the entrances of the cave. Though outwardly she acted optimistic, assuring them everything would be fine, inwardly she couldn't help wondering if all their efforts weren't an exercise in futility. The limbs that blocked out the light would catch some of the radioactive dust, but not all of it. Every breath of air, every drop of water might be lethal. For all she knew, one week from now they might all be dead of radiation poisoning or so sick with it that they'd welcome the prospect of dying. Then again, if what she'd encountered at the houses was any indication of what awaited them, fallout might not be the worst of their worries!

  Alex watched as the last of the children entered the cave. She did a quick head count. That was everyone. She nodded to Cat and they began piling the last of the rocks and limbs across the openings. As each bit of wood and stone was set in place, the already dim interior grew even darker. Only slivers of light from the setting sun could be seen at either end or the cave, picking their way through the barricades. When the last branch was put in place, Alex sat down on a rock, exhausted. Still shivering, she wrapped herself in a sleeping bag. There was nothing to do now but wait, wait and pray that when they emerged from their hiding place, the world they knew would still be there!

  Chapter 4

  Alex shifted position, but no matter which way she moved she couldn't get comfortable. Her butt was black and blue from sitting, but then so was everything else. She'd fallen so many times in the past 10 days that she'd lost count, having come to accept the cuts and bruises, the pain, as a daily reminder that she was, indeed, still alive. Sometimes she felt as though they were buried alive. Their grave cold, dark, and damp, and filled with the stench of decay. They scurried around their hole like blind rats, sniffing at the air, feeling their way over the rocks and along the walls. Except for the sound of rushing water, the cave was deathly quiet. Even the children had settled into the routine, rarely talking. Except for an occasional whimper or cry of pain when someone stumbled or fell, she barely knew the others were here. And when someone did speak, it was always in hushed whispers. As though they feared some unspeakable horror lay in wait outside and might hear them.

  She'd scratched her legs raw, trying to get relief from the unbearable itching that plagued her. The prickly growth of stubble that had sprouted from her once-smooth skin rubbed against her jeans as she squirmed in discomfort. Beneath the dirty denim were runny sores and scabs. Her constant clawing only made matters worse, but try as she might she couldn't keep her hands away.

  Alex pressed her nose against the wall of branches, trying to get a whiff of fresh air, but there was no escaping the stench. The far side of the cave smelled of feces and urine. Though the children tried their best to go where they'd been told, in the end, that whole side of the cave had become an open sewer. Unable to see in the darkness, the kids often stepped in the piles of excrement, tracking shit all over the cave. They congregated near the blocked off openings, as far from the mess and stench as they could get. But it did no good; they carried the foul odors with them. Their unwashed bodies reeked with the stale smell of sweat. Their clothing and shoes were encrusted with layers of filth. Their pants were damp and stank of urine and worse. What she wouldn't give for a roll of toilet paper right now. In the stagnant air inside the cave, the noxious odors mingled together to form a nauseating cloud so oppressive it threatened to choke them.

  She squinted, trying to see through the branches. What little light there was hurt her eyes, she was so accustomed to the darkness. Her stomach growled, demanding to be fed, but she'd have to endure her hunger pangs a while longer. There'd be no food until tonight. She'd lost track of time here, unsure whether it was early morning or late afternoon. There was little to do but sleep and think as they waited for time to pass. Each tedious hour was much like the last. Even with all the sleep, she was tired. With so little to eat, it was no wonder. Her jeans, once snug, were now several sizes too large and the excess pounds that once dimpled her ass and thighs had disappeared, leaving saggy flesh instead. They were nearly at the point of starvation, subsisting on a few handfuls of dry cereal a day, washed down with sips of stream water. Though she knew it was most likely contaminated, they had little choice in the matter. They needed water to survive. The milk, soda, and juice they'd brought lasted less than five days. After that, it was either risk drinking tainted water or die of thirst. They'd decided to take their chances, jury-rigging a filter out of pebbles, dirt, spare socks, and an empty plastic milk jug. They tried to limit themselves to drinking no more than a swallow or two of water at a time hoping that would lessen their peril. Thankfully, no one had suffered any ill effects from the water yet. They'd all been sick, but nothing life threatening. Everyone suffered with rashes and infected cuts. And hacking coughs from the cold and damp. There were also upset stomachs and episodes of vomiting and diarrhea, but she was pretty sure they were the result of their diet and environment, rather than radiation sickness.

  Alex hadn't been thinking straight when she'd walled them up in here; she'd made no provision for a fire. They'd been forced to eat most of their food: the eggs, hamburgers, and hotdogs raw, gagging them down as best they could. The chicken was a different matter though. Hungry as they were, the children refused to even taste it. Seeing that they couldn't be convinced, she'd finally broken off twigs from the barricades, and built a fire to roast the meat. Choking on the smoke, they'd stood around the glowing embers, their mouths watering. The finished product was hardly appetizing: burned black on the outside and raw on the inside. Though it was scarcely edible, it sustained them, allowing them to live another day. That was the best she could hope for now.

  Alex had made a serious mistake not rationing their food with greater care. Almost everything was gone. Only one box of cereal, three pounds of dry spaghetti, and two cans of crushed tomatoes remained. Once those meager stores were exhausted, they'd either have to leave their hiding place to search for food or resign themselves to slow starvation.

  As soon as they could safely venture out, they'd head for the camp. She tried to remember what, if any, food was there. A few cans of tomato and chicken noodle soup and maybe some vegetables; but little else. Between the bugs, assorted mice, and other creatures that also called the cabin home, she'd been forced to keep the cupboards bare. The few times she'd left macaroni, cereal, cake mixes, flour, and s
ugar around, the boxes and bags had been chewed through, infested with vermin, and their contents scattered from one end of the place to the other. What few canned goods there were wouldn't keep them going for more than a day or two. She'd brought plenty of money along on the trip, but doubted it would be of any use now. She suspected that unless you were prepared to steal it, looting stores or camps, the chances of obtaining food would be slim. Desperate to stay alive, survivors would take what they needed by whatever means they could, including force. Those who were weak, lacking weapons or the brute physical strength needed to fight for a share of the spoils would be left to starve. Since it was obvious they couldn't survive by brawn, they'd have to use their wits instead. Though the environment here was inhospitable, hostile really, it could sustain life if you had the necessary knowledge and survival skills.

  Over the years, she'd read everything she could about the Adirondack wilderness. Her library at home boasted page-worn volumes about the history, lore, wildlife, plants, geology, and geography of the area. She'd spent the last several days trying to recall it all, attempting to retrieve the knowledge that lay buried somewhere deep in her brain, but most of it remained a blur. One thing she did remember was the origin of the word Adirondack. It was Mohawk Indian and meant bark eaters. It was a term of contempt they used to describe the tribes who lived among the slopes and valleys of the mountains here. When the winters were harsh and food scarce, they subsisted by eating tree bark. She couldn't recall the specifics, but was sure the list of trees they ate was quite lengthy, including most types of pine. It wasn't exactly a well-balanced diet, but it would keep them from starving until the government had time to restore order and begin the relief effort.

  If this were late spring or early summer, rather than mid autumn, they'd have an easier time of it. There'd be plenty to eat. When the sun was warm, this land, that seemed to defy all attempts at cultivation, became bountiful. Thickets of black and red raspberries sprang up everywhere; low growing blueberry bushes bordered trails and logging roads as far as the eye could see; and wild strawberries carpeted the woods. But their season had passed now and even the nuts of fall would be difficult to find as woodland creatures laid in their winter stores.