TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  Alex thought a lot about her great-grandmother, a little stump of an immigrant woman who'd hobbled around her grandma's house, chattering away in broken English. With her sack-like black mourning dresses and thick accent, she'd been a constant source of embarrassment to the Macri girls. They'd cringed when she wandered the lawns and fields of the neighborhood, digging out weeds and calling them food. Though she used different names for the plants, they were still weeds. As the other children giggled and teased, one of the sisters would dutifully hold the bag as Nana picked dandelions, plantain, chicory, wild mustard, and burdock stalks. It was her contribution to the household. Making her feel needed as she boiled up the bitter greens and force-fed them to her great-granddaughters. She insisted they'd make the girls strong and healthy. Although they loved the old lady dearly, listening with rapt attention to her stories about the little village in Calabria where she'd been born, and allowed her to lavish them with attention and affection, they were, none-the-less, ashamed of her eccentricities. It was a fitting epitaph that some twenty years later, what had once been considered her great-grandma's bizarre penchant for weeds, might, in no small way, save their lives.

  Though prevalent in the lawns back home, she wasn't sure the edible weeds would be as abundant here, but there would be some, scattered amid the mountain vegetation, competing for space along the roadsides. She knew for a fact there was Queen Anne's lace here. The white wildflower could be found in abundance in clearings throughout the region. She'd read someplace that it was nothing more than a wild carrot, its pale root edible. It wasn't elegant fare, but until the snow and cold froze the ground, it would keep them alive. Then, unless they could come up with something better, they'd have to resort to eating trees. Alex had vague recollections of reading about the cranberries that grew wild here, their bright red berries clinging to the branches all winter long. Though sour, they were edible too. The only problem was she had no idea where to find them.

  What she needed was to get her hands on some books, but that might be easier said than done. There was a sporting goods shop in Indian Lake that specialized in backpacking gear. Though she'd only been in the store once or twice, she remembered they had a small book section, which included plant and wildlife identification handbooks, as well as topographical maps and hiking guides. If it hadn't already been ransacked for its stock of dehydrated trail meals, she might find what she needed there. There was also a tiny library in the village that might prove helpful and, of course, if all else failed, she could make the trek up the steep and winding road outside of Blue Mountain Lake to the Adirondack Museum. They had a visitor's shop stocked with just about every book ever written on mountaineering, surviving in the wilderness, harvesting edible wild plants, and anything else that might remotely pertain to mountains in general and the Adirondacks in particular.

  It was there, all she needed to know to keep them going; the trick was to get the information without endangering her life in the process. Circumstances being what they were, it was risky to wander too close to populated areas. Desperate and possibly armed with guns, the survivors would be out scavenging for food, clothing, and weapons, whatever they could lay their hands on. So it was best to stay out of sight and out of their way. She'd always been trusting, never worrying about other's intentions, but now she was wary. The small villages here were clannish, close-knit communities. They weren't partial to outsiders. Oh, they liked their money well enough; their cash kept the local economies going. But that was as far as it went. She couldn't really blame them. "Downstaters and city folk" were arrogant, condescending, demanding, and just plain rude. Bringing their garbage, ill-mannered children, and vices with them. The locals made no distinctions between tourists, summer residents, and newcomers. They were all viewed with a disparaging eye. Even though Alex had been coming here for years, faithfully paying her property and school taxes, she was no more welcome than any other interloper. Viewed with suspicion, she was a stranger, an intruder…one of them. Now their disdain would erupt into gun-waving hostility as they tried to protect what little they had from the refugees escaping the devastation of the cities. She'd have to exercise caution when getting the books. In the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, would be the best time, when things were quiet and everyone was asleep.

  Alex leaned back, her head resting against the rocks, wondering what the coming days and weeks would bring. If they could just stay alive until the government organized some sort of disaster relief program. But could they? She was knowledgeable about the mountains, could forage and fish, but would that be enough to keep them alive until help arrived? She shut her eyes, sighed in resignation, and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 5

  Alex shivered as she pulled the corner of the sleeping bag over her chest. It did little to shield her from the cold, biting wind. Curling up into a fetal position she huddled against the cave wall trying to get warm. She was just nodding off again when she sensed something was wrong. Sobbing and whimpers mingled with the sound of rushing water. At first, she tried to block it out, clinging to sleep and sweet dreams of times past. Finally, her slumber disturbed by the noise and the cold, she began to stir, her aching body slowly uncurling from its cramped position.

  Her eyes opened a crack, head turning in the direction of the sound. Though still drowsy, she could see several figures cowering against the opposite wall. Lids heavy, she closed her eyes again. The wind beat against her back, its gusts icy fingers, shaking her awake. Like a disgruntled bear, prematurely awakened from its winter sleep, she turned, grumbling angrily at the source of her annoyance. She blinked and then blinked again, unable to believe her eyes. There was light! She stared in horror at the gaping hole where the barricade had once been. She rose slowly, too stunned to speak, and timidly approached the outside world.

  She stopped a few feet from the opening and peeked out; expecting to see some sign of the devastation she was sure was waiting beyond the safety of their hole. But there was nothing. It looked the same as it had the day they'd sealed themselves away. The forest pine, still green, swayed and bent in the wind. The white birches stood tall, their yellowed leaves clinging tenaciously to the branches. Even the clumps of moss and sparse plant life that grew from the sheer rocks had, by some miracle, all survived unharmed.

  Branches littered the rocky approach to the cave. She stared at them baffled, wondering how they'd gotten there. Behind her, one of the children was sniffling and crying. The wind was strong, but not strong enough to dislodge the branches. The destruction had been deliberate. Confused and angry, Alex was ready to charge back into the dim interior, but stopped, muscles tightening, when she heard a scared little voice call out for his mother. Though she couldn't make out the faces of the figures huddling together in the shadows, she could see that there were only seven of them. The breath caught in her lungs as she desperately tried to locate the other two.

  "Cat?" she called into the darkness, but there was no response. "Cat where are you?" Her voice rose in alarm. "Tori? Cat? Answer me damn it! Where are you?" Alex stepped into the shadows, her head frantically twisting from side to side, as she searched for some sign of her sisters. Panic rising, she turned her attention back to the entrance. They'd been without food for more than three days; had they gotten it into their heads to go out looking for something to eat, some way to feed their starving children? Stumbling over the rocks, Alex hurried out into the dreary, overcast day. "Cat? Tori?" she shouted. The wind blew around her, creating a symphony of sound: creaking branches, whistling pines, rustling birch leaves, splashing water, but still no answer.

  "They're gone," a trembling voice informed her.

  Alex was momentarily stunned by the revelation, her gaze sweeping the river and the road beyond. She turned to face Deana. "Where?" she demanded to know.

  "Home," the child whispered, stifling a sob.

  "Back to Albany? Are you kidding me?" As she spoke, visions of destruction flashed in her head. She could see air red with fire; chok
ing, black clouds of smoke, rising high in the sky; piles of rubble where buildings had once stood; and blood gushing like a swollen river through the streets. Alex gulped in lungfuls of air, trying to push the nightmarish images away. She surveyed the landscape: the dense green expanse of forest, the jagged rocks and cliffs, the rushing river. This was real. The calamity she envisioned wasn't! It was mere speculation. Just words on a radio.

  Barely able to function before, the ordeal of the past two weeks had been too much for Tori, shattering what was left of her sanity. Terrified of the dark and uncommunicative, she'd ignored her children, spending the hours cowering between the rocks. Brian was the only thing that mattered to her now. Only he could save her, keep her safe. Find him and she'd find her salvation, or so she thought. But it was madness. They'd abandoned the living to search for the dead. Left their children to fend for themselves. Tori had always had a nervous temperament, been high-strung, her actions, no matter how irrational, could be understood in light of that. But what the fuck was Cat's excuse? She wasn't deranged, a bit neurotic perhaps, but certainly not crazy.

  Alex watched as the children emerged from the shadows, clinging to each other as they stood frightened and confused beneath the arching rock. Alex looked at Deana, baffled. "For the love of God, why?"

  At first the girl didn't respond, seeming as bewildered as her aunt, but then, becoming thoughtful, gave the only answer she could think of. "To look for Uncle Brian and Daddy. To do God's work. Help take care of the sick and wounded. Pray for the dead…"

  Before the girl could finish, Alex exploded. "Really?" she fumed. "And who the hell is going to pray for you? Who's going to take care of you?" she thundered in fury. "They drop you all in my lap and go off to act out their frigging delusions? Well, I've got news for them, I don't give a shit how sick they are or whether your crazy mother thinks she's on some holy mission to save the world. They're not going to get away with this! Even if I have to drag them back here by their hair!"

  Deana's downcast eyes filled with tears as the tirade continued.

  "Why did you let them leave? Why didn't you try to stop them? Wake me up?"

  "I couldn't," she whimpered, trying to explain, "Mommy made me promise. She said you'd take care of us until she came back. She said she had to go! God spoke to her! He told her to go!"

  "And you believed her?" Alex shouted, shaking with rage. If Cat was hearing voices, they were emanating from her own deranged brain and not some divine communique from heaven. "How long ago did they leave?"

  "I don't know. Maybe an hour."

  "Well they couldn't have gotten far. They must be close by, someplace on the main road," Alex told her. "You stay here and watch the little ones. I'm going to go look for them." She headed back into the interior of the cave, searching for her backpack. Spying it perched against the wall, she clambered over the rocks to retrieve it.

  As she pulled back the flap and plunged her hand into the pack, she heard Deana say something, but between the wind whistling through the cave and the gurgling water, it was hard for Alex to make out the words. Unwilling to waste any more time discussing the matter, she focused her attention on the contents of the sack, trying in vain to locate the keys to the minibus.

  "You won't find them," the girl sniffed. "They took them."

  It was worse than she thought! "Damn them!" she cursed, her clenched fist pounding the cold rock in frustration. The jagged edges cut her flesh, yet even the pain couldn't subdue the bitterness and outrage she felt. Grabbing the pack, she began beating it against the stone. The metal frame bent, the thin tubes of aluminum rupturing. She gasped. What a dumbass! How was throwing a tantrum going to help anything? Her compass; solar charger; and the new, state-of-the-art, emergency, hand-crank, weather radio she'd just bought were in there! Hands shaking, she hugged the pack to her chest, and slumped to the ground, despairing of their chances for survival. The days were cold, more like winter than early fall, the nights colder still; without food and warm shelter, they'd perish. The books, the camp, seemed like unattainable dreams; their only prospects for the future were death by starvation and exposure. Cat and Tori had not only abandoned them, but condemned them to die as well. With no vehicle, they were done for!

  Alex was trying not to hate them for what they'd done. But it was hard! She told herself she should pity them for their stupidity and cowardice. Unable to cope with reality, it was easier for them to retreat into their fantasies: where the dead were alive and the world was as it once was; or, better still, the saved were carried away in the rapture on heavenly escalators bound for eternal paradise. The past belonged to Victoria and the future with its promise of a glorious hereafter to Cat. But Alex? Alex could find comfort in neither. She was stuck here in this living hell, overwhelmed by the shit, and the stench, and the responsibility! How could they do this to her? They were her sisters; yet they'd betrayed her. Worse still, they'd betrayed their children. Narcissistic bitches! Cunts! Alex sat in silence, listening to the strained sound of her own breathing, stoically resigned to her fate.

  "What do we do now?" Deana asked, plaintively.

  Without saying a word, Alex got up, and walked from the cave. There was nothing to say. No words of hope. No reassurances that all would be well. The truth was they were going to die; their existence would come to a miserable end. It was only a matter of time.

  Alex wanted to feel alive again, breathe fresh air, see the sky, let the wind blow through her hair, marvel at nature's beauty, before those simple pleasures were taken from her. She wandered over the rocks, peering into the crevices. They reminded her of the world, the way it was now: barren and pockmarked. Alex stared across the river to the place where the minibus had been parked.

  They were 35 miles from the camp. Sick and weak from hunger, there was little chance they could make it on foot. How could she expect children to endure such an arduous trek when they were starving? Even if they did have the strength to begin the journey, how many of them would survive it? In their present condition, making the trip across the mountains with its exhausting, steep climbs would take them six days at least. Six days of freezing cold nights, of possible rain, and wind. If hunger didn't kill them, then exposure to the elements certainly would…not to mention the fallout still drifting down from the skies. She drew her knees up to her chest and, placing her arms across them, rested her head, wearily shutting her eyes. Alex was at a loss to know what to do: stay here in the shelter of the cave and starve to death or begin the odyssey through the wilderness on the slim chance that they might somehow survive it? Alex was tired, and weak from hunger. She wasn't sure she could survive the journey, let alone the kids. Death seemed inevitable.

  She lifted her head and looked around, surveying the cliff below. There was something black and tan resting on the rocks. Alex strained to see what it was. It appeared to be a short length of discarded rope. Near it, some 10 feet away, was another piece, thicker than the first. She made a mental note that they might want to retrieve them to use on their trip back across the river. Alex was turning away when she caught sight of movement down below. It was hard to tell, swaying trees and branches were casting shadows on the rocks. Curiosity aroused, she continued to watch the objects. There it was again. She stood up slowly and began making her way over the rocks. Halfway down, she realized they weren't pieces of rope at all; they were alive. Snakes! Two big ones! What were they doing here? It was cold. Too cold for snakes to be out and about. They should be hibernating, yet here they were. Alex inched her way closer, eyes glued on the creatures. She'd never thought of reptiles as anything but revolting before, nevertheless, she suddenly found her mouth watering, visions of sizzling meat dancing in her head. Though torpid, they looked healthy and well fed. She wasn't going to turn her back on good fortune. She intended to put them to good use.

  Smiling at her prey, Alex picked up a stone and with as much stealth as she could muster, approached them, hoping they wouldn't notice her and try to escape. The one on the left was
the fattest. He'd be first. Clutching the stone tightly in her hand, she crawled to within two feet of him, then, lifting her weapon, brought it crashing down on its head, smashing the skull. Wriggling, even in death, she grabbed it and quickly turned her attention to the other one. Aware of the danger, it was slithering away. Scrambling over the rocks, Alex saw its head disappear into a crevice. Lunging for it, she managed to wrap her fingers around its tail. Tugging with all her might, she extracted the squirming snake from its hiding place and beat it against the rocks until it stopped moving. Today they'd eat! With just her two hands and a bit of luck she'd managed to stave off starvation, at least for the moment. Perhaps tomorrow they'd go hungry, but even that frightening prospect couldn't dampen her elation. She looked out over the interminable expanse of green, stretching as far as the eye could see. It seemed less foreboding than it had a few minutes ago. Holding a dangling snake in each hand, Alex headed back to the cave, the tiny ember of hope she'd thought extinguished, glowing brightly once more.

  Chapter 6

  They huddled together beneath the sleeping bags, trying to escape the freezing cold, clothes still damp from fording the river the night before. They'd gotten little sleep. Only the younger ones had shut their eyes, exhausted from their adventure. Deana cradled Michelle under one arm and Derek under the other, but even the warmth of their bodies couldn't stop her from shivering. The sky was beginning to lighten, casting eerie shadows on the forest floor, mist hanging like gauze between the trees. Deana was frightened. She'd seen Aunt Alex steal away into the darkness more then an hour ago. At first, she'd thought the woman had just gone to the bathroom, but now Deana was worried. Had she abandoned them too? Deana was trying hard not to cry, but it was a losing battle. She'd watched the shadow quietly take the backpack and slink off into the woods. Perhaps her aunt decided she'd have a better chance of surviving on her own. Two days ago such a thing would have never crossed her mind, but that was before her mother and Aunt Tori left.