TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  It was a matter of planning. Alex noted her finds on the topographical maps she'd found at the ranger station. After researching her books, she made monthly lists of what plants could be harvested when, and where they could be found. Then there were the seeds Wolf had procured: packets of corn and squash, tomatoes and cucumbers, cabbage and lettuce, Brussel sprouts and Swiss chard, beans and peas, pumpkins, peppers, carrots and radishes. She stayed awake nights thinking about her garden: how she'd plant it, tend it, how it would grow. Sometimes after Wolf fell asleep, she'd sneak out of bed, and sit by the fire, reading and rereading the packages.

  Alex stopped, straightening her hunched shoulders. Her back was aching, fingers cramping up. Stretching, she surveyed the area. Noticing the cut plastic jug hanging from a nearby tree, she decided to check it out. She peered into the makeshift pail and smiled. There was at least six inches of sap covering the bottom. Alex had pressed every spare container into service so she could tap the trees. There were quite a few sugar maples in the area. Using her books, she'd studied the bark of the denuded trees and retrieved the fallen leaves beneath them to make her identification. After drilling holes in them, she hollowed out sumac branches for spouts and hammered them in. To her dismay, the sap wasn't running nearly as well as she'd expected, trickling out drop by slow drop. It was cold today, but above freezing. That's what the book said it took: nights below freezing and days above. The normal maple sugaring season was mid March to late April here. That was now.

  Alex dipped her finger in the jug and licked the liquid off. It tasted sweet. She crossed the yard to where the fire was smoldering. Bending, she threw a few more pieces of wood on it. The sap in the pan was barely bubbling. It was still the consistency of water. Depending on who you read and whether it was early or late in the season, it took between 25 and 40 gallons of sap to make one of syrup. So far, they'd collected only three. They had a long way to go. Once boiled down, it would have to be filtered to get out the grit and then put up in containers. The books said to hot pack the syrup in mason jars, but the best they could do was a few empty spaghetti sauce, pickle, and baby food jars they'd found in the bottom of the garbage dumpster at the ranger station. It was a lot of work for little return, but when the remaining sugar they had ran out, she'd be glad she'd done it.

  If nothing else, the children seemed to enjoy it, arguing with each other over who would carry the containers back to camp, standing by the fire impatient to know when it would be ready. After a long winter spent in cramped quarters, they were delighted their confinement was over. As soon as they left the porch, their feet hit the ground running. They searched for wood and kindling at the forest's edge; discarded bottles, cans, and plastic 6-pack rings to use as containers or fashion into tools and nets; and checked the shorelines of the nearby ponds and streams looking for small critters they could catch and cook. So far, the crayfish, frogs, and turtles they hunted had proved elusive, remaining hidden under the ice.

  Between the piles of sunglasses they'd gotten from the ranger station's lost and found box and the carton of shatterproof, tinted, heavy-duty safety goggles they'd discovered at the timber company field office, they had plenty of eyewear at their disposal. She assumed the lumberjacks needed them to protect their eyes from flying woodchips and sawdust. Alex made the kids wear them every time they went outside as a precaution against possible blindness from ultraviolet radiation. She didn't know whether or not the ozone in the atmosphere had been damaged by the bombs, but she wasn't taking any chances. Though they grumbled about it, the children humored her and wore them.

  Everything was going well except for Wolf. He'd become a tyrant! It started with her deer. The hunting was poor and made all the more difficult by the fact that he still limped on his bad leg and had blurry vision in his injured eye. Already weak, the daily search for food exhausted him. She begged Wolf to wait until he got his strength back, but he wouldn't listen, behaving like a man obsessed, determined to prove himself the breadwinner of the family. It was as though every piece of meat he put in his mouth, every root, every bit of bark, stuck in his throat, choking him. He couldn't bear the thought that the food he ate was the result of her efforts; that she was the one keeping them fed. It was wounded pride, but knowing that didn't make living with the man any easier. There were times she hated him and wished him dead. But there were other times, when she'd see him sitting alone, staring sadly into space, that she felt sorry for him. She remembered laying beside him in the darkness, his fever raging, praying that he'd live. She'd nursed him, wanting him to be well again, but now that it happened, she wasn't rejoicing. Though she never regretted the decision to go back for him, she sometimes wondered if she'd do the same thing again today. In spite of the misery he caused her, the truth was she'd probably save his sorry ass again.

  If nothing else, Alex was a pragmatist. Yes, Wolf could be a son of a bitch sometimes, but she needed him. At least for now!

  Alex picked up the spoon and gave the sap a stir, then returned to the tedium of grinding flour, her thoughts still centered on him. He was growing more irascible, resentful, and pigheaded every day. She dreaded his return home most evenings. When he was late, she often found herself plagued by conflicting emotions: first concern, then relief, then back again. When he finally did appear at the door, she'd greeted him with a sinking feeling. He'd come to them as a frightening presence months ago and remained so now.

  Jasmine was curled up in her arms, Derek and Shawn poised on either side of her, trying not to nod off as she recounted the tale of "Beauty and the Beast." Charles and Justin were cloistered in a corner with a deck of cards, while Michele, Deana, Lindsey, and Seth were perusing old issues of "Adirondack Life," looking for helpful information. She glanced out the window, it was way past dark, Wolf was hours overdue. They'd already eaten, keeping a plate warm on top of the woodstove for him. She watched the children's faces, they were smiling now, but as soon as he returned, their smiles would vanish.

  "And they lived happily ever after," she announced. "You got your story. Now it's time for bed."

  There was grumbling, but no arguments, the little ones giving her sleepy hugs as they moved toward the ladder. Suddenly there was a commotion outside. Alarmed, Alex herded the children to the stairs, then ran for a rifle, loading it. She quickly bolted the door; then, standing to the side of the window, peeked out. Shooting sparks filled the darkness, a shower of red, gold, and orange. She could see something moving around in the night. There was a loud crash as metal collided with rock.

  Charles came up behind her. "What is it?" he asked in a frightened whisper.

  "I don't know, a bear maybe. It's at the syrup. Grab a gun and make sure it's loaded. Justin, Deana, you too!"

  They all came running to her side, Deana's hands shaking so badly she could barely load the shells. A shadow passed in front of the fire, moving toward the trees. Suddenly something came hurtling toward the window, liquid splattering the glass. Alex turned quickly, her hand poised on the sliding bolt. Justin intercepted it.

  "Don't go out there." he begged.

  "It's OK," she insisted as she slid the bolt back and slowly turned the knob, pulling the door open a crack. Her fire lay in ruins, burning wood and glowing embers scattered across the yard, the pan overturned, its contents seeping into the ground. On the porch was a plastic jug used to collect sap. It had been ripped off its tree. Alex took a deep breath, then pulled the door wide open and stepped out onto the porch. Her eyes darted around, scanning the darkness, searching for the shadow she'd seen. She jumped back when she saw it running toward her in the darkness. It was no bear. It was a man. Wolf!

  "You stupid idiot!" he screamed. "You kept the fire burning after dark? You can see it a half-mile away! What the fuck is the matter with you?"

  Something was wrong with him. He didn't sound right. His speech was slurred.

  "Dumb bitch. You could have gotten us all killed. What the hell were you thinking? You and your stupid fucking ideas. You think you
're so smart, but you're a goddam imbecile. I've been too easy on you. But no more. From now on, you don't set foot outside this house without my permission. Do you hear me?" He stopped just short of the porch, his hand reaching out to grab a twig from a nearby tree.

  Alex heard the wood snap as he broke it off and then an ominous whistling sound.

  The light from the door and window illuminated Wolf's face. His eyes were blazing, mouth contorted as he brandished the switch at her menacingly.

  Alex raised the rifle, pointing it at his middle.

  "Put the fucking gun down, Alexandra," he growled, glaring at her.

  "Stay back. I'm warning you!" Her words were cold as ice.

  "You don't tell me what to do, bitch. I'll teach you to pull a gun on me," he threatened, slashing the air clumsily with the stick.

  "Come one step closer and I swear I'll shoot."

  "Kill your meal ticket?" he taunted. "Yeah right! You can't survive without me!"

  "You've been drinking."

  "What if I have. You're getting what you want. I got food, soap, and a couple of blankets. And this time…this time, I got something just for me."

  "Where'd you get it?"

  "What the hell do you care?"

  "You didn't go to the camps up the road did you?" she asked, worried.

  "Yeah. I went there. So what? Think I wanted to come home again and have you look at me like I'm some piece of shit stuck to your shoe?" He staggered toward her, almost losing his footing.

  "Stay back! I mean it!" She cocked the gun.

  "Don't you ever..." Before he could finish, the deafening sound of rifle fire knocked him to his knees. For a moment he seemed dazed, unable to move. Wolf looked up and saw her coming toward him on the porch.

  "Don't make me kill you, just go."

  "You hate me that much?" he asked drunkenly.

  "I want you out of here."

  "To go where?" he shouted. "This is my home!"

  "Not any more! I don't care where you go or what you do, whether you live or die. I just want you out of our lives. You're a vicious bastard, a bully. There's not a shred of compassion or decency in you. The only emotions you're capable of are resentment, anger, and cruelty."

  "I love you!" he shouted, voice cracking.

  "You don't even know the meaning of the word," she screamed back at him. "You don't want anybody to care about you. You want them to fear you! You've made our lives a living hell, but no more. Stay away from us Wolf or I swear I'll kill you!"

  He stared at her in shocked silence, then his eyes filled with rage, "I kept you alive, I gave you food!

  "Yes, you gave us that," she spat back. "But we paid dearly for it. We had to grovel for everything we got, enduring your temper, black moods, and abuse. You forget that it was our roof that sheltered you, our fire that warmed you. We owe you nothing!" she barked at him. "Justin get Wolf his clothes, a pack, a sleeping bag, and a box of shells."

  "You can't do this," he bellowed, outraged. "I won't let you shut me out. You can't throw me away like a piece of garbage." He rose to his feet and started toward her.

  She trained the gun on his head. "Stay where you are!"

  "You need me!"

  "No we don't! I'd rather take my chances alone than endure another day with you."

  A few moments later Justin appeared with a pack, filled to bursting with hastily shoved in clothing and a tattered sleeping bag. "Throw them to him," she ordered.

  They landed at Wolf's feet with a thud. He looked down at them and then at Alex.

  "Take them and go," she ordered.

  "You're going to be damn sorry, woman. You won't get rid of me so easily. I'll be back."

  "You do and you're a dead man," she warned.

  He grabbed the pack, tying the sleeping bag to its frame, then looked at her, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "I cared about you. I cared about them," he said emotionally, "But you used me. You never gave a damn about me, none of you."

  Alex didn't answer. Turning, she motioned Justin toward the door, then, without looking back, followed him into the house. She slammed the door, quickly sliding the bolt in place. Wolf was out of their lives now. Goodbye and good riddance!

  She hurried the children off to bed, then dragged her mattress to the door. He was still out there, standing like a statue, staring at the house. Alex watched him through the window, her hatred and anger slipping away. She couldn't help but pity him; tearing up when he finally turned and walked away, a lost and lonely soul retreating into the night. There was no elation, only relief; no joy, only an aching emptiness.

  Chapter 24

  Alex awoke from her nightmare gasping for breath, body bathed in sweat. She reached out for reassurance to the empty place beside her, but he was gone. Quaking, Alex stared at the tiny glimmer of light barely visible through the damper of the woodstove door. Everything was quiet; the only sound her own breathing. Pulling the blanket up to her chin, she peered fearfully into the dark. It had been almost a month since she'd sent him away, yet she couldn't stop thinking about him.

  There was a nagging ache inside her: loneliness. Her fingers reached out and stroked the empty spot beside her. Her feelings made no sense. By day, she'd despised him; yet at night had found comfort and reassurance in the sound of his breathing, the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms. Alex missed the intimacy. Laying together in the darkness. Holding each other. Making love. Alex forced herself to remember the bad times: his foul moods; fragile ego; unreasonable demands; strict discipline, and iron-fisted control. At the same time, she couldn't forget the tenderness of his touch, the passion in his kisses, the feel of his naked flesh. Do not go there! She rebuked herself for thinking with her crotch instead of her head. She was better off without him! So why didn't she believe it? There was a need inside her, a hunger that wouldn't go away. She tried to force herself to focus on Matt; but the face of her husband was blurry now, fading away, as Wolf's took its place. That was cold comfort! During the day, the struggle for survival consumed her, as she tried to eke out an existence and make a life for them. However, at night, her thoughts always returned to Wolf. She wasn't free of him. He was gone, yes, but the memory lingered.

  Though no one had seen Wolf, he was still around, spying on them, making his presence felt. Gifts of meat and supplies mysteriously appeared on their doorstep. He wasn't giving up, refusing to relinquish his role as their protector and provider. He shared his kills and whatever he could salvage from the abandoned camps to the north with them; even bringing her a white gauze nightgown and a half-filled bottle of perfume. Sometimes she was grateful; other times the offerings angered her and she'd kick them off the porch. Alex knew what he was up to. He was trying to make amends, worm his way back into their good graces, hoping they'd forgive him for the unhappiness he'd caused, the pain he'd inflicted. No way! She wasn't that stupid or her memory that short. Wolf couldn't be trusted. He was an overbearing asshole, a rat bastard! He'd never change! Even though Alex was lonely, she couldn't find it in her heart to forgive him, or allow him back into their lives.

  She'd seen his tracks in the mud along the road. He was somewhere close by, but where she didn't know. Alex had scoured the area trying to locate his camp. She hadn't found it. The man was cunning. His tracks always seemed to disappear just when she sensed she was getting close. Alex wasn't sure why she felt the need to know. Why she tempted fate by seeking out his lair. It was sheer stupidity on her part. Suppose he saw her? Then what? Alex tried to tell herself she was just curious, but the answer was far more complex than that. Was she trying to salve a guilty conscience? She'd forced him out into the cold with almost nothing. Thankfully, he'd survived, though he could just as easily have died of starvation or exposure. That burden weighed heavy on her. Maybe she just wanted to make sure he'd be all right on his own. She didn't really know what she hoped to find. Would she think it divine retribution if she found him living like an animal in some hovel, dirty and shivering with cold? Would
it please her to know he was suffering? Would she think it just punishment for his sins? She'd cast him out, made him a pariah; yet her contempt was tempered with concern. Why did she give a flying fuck what happened to him? The bastard had raped her! She needed to forget him. Forget he ever existed! But that was easier said than done!

  Wolf was the least of her worries. She'd heard gunfire yesterday on the road north of the ranger station. At first, she thought it was him, then realized there were several guns being fired at the same time. She hoped it was just a hunting party, but hadn't stayed long enough to find out, fleeing through the woods, back to the safety of the Moose River. The snow had melted, leaving the road open and them unprotected. She'd warned the children to stay well away from the ranger station and the access road, and to confine their exploration and foraging to the fields and forested areas behind the logging camp. Unfortunately, the best spots to harvest the wild edibles they depended on were right along the road: acres of cattails, arrowhead and, pickerel weed in the swampy areas; plantain, purslane, Queen Anne's lace, wild mustard, goosefoot, burdock, chicory, milkweed, and evening primrose along the shoulders and in the open meadows. The same plants could be found in small patches elsewhere in the park, but not in the same abundance as they grew there. Alex would have to be extra vigilante when she foraged for food now that she knew intruders were roaming the woods, confining her hunting to the area south of the flow, where the sound of gunfire would be muffled by the dense greenery.

  She hadn't fared well in that regard anyway. The only red meat they'd tasted in the last month had come to them by way of Wolf's generosity. Thank God for fish! That was their staple source of protein. Though there seemed to be fewer fish now, there were still more than enough for their needs. Since several of the lakes and ponds in the area had already been damaged or destroyed by acid rain and drifting pollution, it was hard to tell if fallout was responsible for the declining fish population or not. Nothing was wasted or overlooked. Whatever extra there was in the day's catch was dried and salted to preserve it. They were using bags of rock salt they'd found in the maintenance shed. Even the heads, belly fat, and skins were utilized, going into a large, simmering pot to extract oil, which could later be burned in their lamps. They'd even been rendering fat from the deer meat, trying to make soap with it. The result was a thick, lumpy liquid that, when coaxed with a bit of water, would lather. It smelled bad, but it was usable.