One Man's Island

by Thomas J. Wolfenden

  “I understand. My Papaw was the same with his at his house. He didn’t have really cool ones like that though. You really gonna teach me to shoot?”

  “Sure, maybe tomorrow. First thing now though, you need another shower. You left some dirt behind your ears, and there’s still crud under your fingernails. Go and shower again,” he said with mock sternness. “Now get going!”

  He went back outside and lit a smoke, wondering where this would take him. The last few hours weren’t so bad, but did he really know what he was doing with a kid in tow? The last of the daylight had passed, and he watched lightning in thunderheads, miles away. The thunder rolled as he smoked and drank another beer. Finishing that, he went back inside where he saw Robyn standing with one of his t-shirts on.

  The sleeves went all the way to her elbows and the bottom hung clear below her knees. She was scrubbed pink this time, and he saw that she’d washed her hair again.

  “I saw it on your bed, and thought I needed something for PJ’s. It’s okay I hope?”

  “Yes, it’s okay. I didn’t think of that at Walmart today, you’re welcome to it.”

  “Cool! Thanks!” she said with a squeal, and gave him a big hug. He hugged back slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

  “Come on, let’s get you tucked into bed.” He helped her climb into the bunk and get under the covers.

  “Comfy?” he asked, as he tucked her in.

  “Yep, thank you, Tim. Good night.”

  “Oh, almost forget. Here’s your bear,” he said, handing her the soiled stuffed toy, which she took from him and hugged tight.

  “Good night, honey. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, brushing a lock of flaxen hair from her eyes. He didn’t know her hair was that light, it now looked almost the color of corn silk, it had been that dirty.

  With that said, he turned around and walked to his bed and turned off all the lights. He sat down on the bed, took off his boots, stripped to his underwear, and got under the sheets. When he was comfortably situated, he lay there a while listening to the thunder, interspersed with Robyn’s steady breathing. That night, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, lulled by gently falling rain on the tin roof of the trailer.

  He woke early in the morning to sunlight coming through the slits in the blinds. He sat up, coughed and scratched his head.

  “You snore,” he heard from the far side of the camper, and he looked up, seeing a small nose and two pairs of eyes looking at him, one a deep blue the other set hard and plastic.

  “Well, there’s nothing I can do about that,” he mumbled.

  “Sounded like the last coal train over Cheat Mountain!” Robyn giggled.

  “Thanks,” he said and made his way to the tiny bathroom. When he was done, he donned a pair of jeans, put on a pot of coffee, and lit a cigarette.

  “Those are bad for you,” Robyn said.

  “So is bugging me about them.”

  “Just sayin’...”

  “Alright, let me get some coffee,” he said sternly, letting her know he really wasn’t a morning person.

  “Can I have some?”

  “Aren’t you a little young for coffee?”

  “No, I used to drink a cup with my Mama before school every morning.”

  “Really? How do you like it?”

  “Black,” she said, sitting up, letting her feet dangle off the bed over the dinette table.

  “Okay, black coffee for the young lady, it is,” he said, getting a second cup from the cabinet and putting sugar and non-dairy creamer into his cup. He could never drink coffee black. When the pot was ready, he poured two cups and set one down on the table across from his, where he sat to finish his smoke and sip his brew. Robyn hopped down off the bunk, bounded to the bathroom, and shut the door noisily. He stubbed out the smoke in an ashtray and shook his head. He heard the toilet flush, and she came out and sat down across from him.

  “Good morning!” she beamed cheerily.

  “It’s morning alright,” he grumbled.

  She took a sip of the coffee. “This is really good!”

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “It’s not as good as Mama’s, but good anyway,” she said, looking down, as a dark cloud crossed her face.

  “You miss your mom, huh?”

  “Yeah…” She looked out of the window, avoiding his gaze. “Why did she hafta die? She never hurt nobody.”

  “I don’t know, Robyn. I lost people I loved too. I guess we’ll never know.”

  She sat for a minute and sipped her coffee, and Tim didn’t push her to talk. She’d tell him what was on her mind if she wanted to.

  “You know what I think?”

  “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  “There is no God,” she said flatly, in a voice that belied her age.

  It sounded like it was coming from a middle-aged, jaded cynic and he was taken aback. Not that he disagreed with her, he was in total agreement, but it was just the way she said it.

  “I mean, if there really was a God, and he really loves us all like they said in Sunday School, why kill good people like my Mama, and leave people like you and me alone to just get by?”

  “And you’re thirteen?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. If she thought that, he wondered why she wanted to say grace last night. Probably out of habit, he figured.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, and sipped her coffee.

  Tim didn’t know how to respond to that. He drank more of his drink, and then put the cup down. “So tell me, Robyn. How did you and Geoffrey survive all winter?”

  “Oh, Geoffrey was really good at finding things. He got us food, and water, and wood for the stove,” she exclaimed, growing animated. She sat up and drew her legs under her bottom so she was sitting almost eye to eye with Tim. “Only thing he couldn’t figure out was the toilet. It got all clogged, and we didn’t know what to do about poopin’ and stuff.”

  He laughed at that. “Well, I’m good at fixing things like that. No worries about the toilet here.”

  “No, and that’s really nice.”

  “I can identify,” he said. “So you and Geoffrey just holed up at your trailer for the winter?”

  “Yeah. Geoffrey buried Mama out the back, and then he buried his folks before the ground got too cold. He found lots of stuff, beanie-weenies and Vienna sausages, chips and soda and stuff,” she said, Vienna coming out as ‘Vy-Anner’.

  “Well, from now on, we’ll be eating as much real food as we can.”

  “Like spaghetti?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yes ma’am, and rabbit and pig if I can shoot one. Not much fresh veggies, so we’ll have to rely on the canned stuff for those.”

  She wrinkled her nose a bit at the mention of vegetables, but he said nothing at this point. He was the same when he was that age, and there was no need to push the issue.

  “Would you like some breakfast?” he asked, and her face lit up. “Eggs and hash browns sound good?”

  “You have eggs?” she asked, wide eyed.

  “Well, they’re powdered, same with the potatoes. You can have the eggs anyway you like them as long as it’s scrambled!” he said, getting up and taking the two steps to the galley kitchen. Breaking out everything he’d need, he took a gallon jug of water out of the refrigerator, using it to mix up the fixings for the eggs and reconstitute the freeze-dried potatoes.

  “Can I help?” Robyn asked.

  “Nah, I got this. You want more coffee?”

  “Can I?”

  He nodded in reply, and came over to warm up her cup, with the still hot coffee pot.

  “Sorry, I don’t have any bacon.”

  “That’s okay. Eggs and hashies sound great!”

  He busied himself with cooking breakfast, and was getting quite adept at juggling the pans on the tiny three burner stove.

  “I never knew men could cook!”

  “Well, one has to do what one has to do. I learned how to cook for myself a long time ago. If I didn’t do it myself, it di
dn’t get done. So instead of going hungry, I learned to cook!”

  He took a spatula and scooped out some scrambled eggs and hash browns onto a plate, placing it in front of the girl. He then got two forks out and placed them on the table with a few paper towels. After making a plate for himself, he sat down opposite, took the salt and pepper, and sprinkled some over the lot. He then added some Tabasco sauce to spice it up a bit. He handed over the condiments to Robyn, who used the salt, but eschewed the pepper or hot sauce. They ate in silence, and even Tim had to agree that the powdered eggs weren’t really all that bad. When Robyn was finished, she looked up at the makeshift bookshelf Tim had made over the window.

  “Did you read all of those?”

  “Yeah I did, most of them anyway. I like to read. It keeps my mind occupied.”

  “Me too. Sometimes when I’m reading a really good story it’s like I got this little TV screen in my head and I can picture it all there,” she said, looking away and turning red, like she was telling him a secret she shouldn’t have.

  “I’m the same way. It’s like a little movie in my head.”

  “Really, you do that too?”

  “Yep, really. Feel free to read anything you want up there. I pinched them from the library,” Tim said, winking conspiratorially.

  “Mama couldn’t afford to buy me the books I wanted, so I’d go to the library and read all day. I love to read!”

  “It’s really good that you read. To me, every book is like an adventure, taking you places you might never get to see yourself.” He reached up on the shelf and took down a book, handing it to her. “Here’s one of my all-time favorites.”

  She looked at the cover, and read aloud, “Robinson Crusoe. What’s it about?”

  “It’s about a man who gets marooned on a desert isle, and how he survives by himself until he meets a native he named Friday. I won’t spoil the story for you. I loved it when I was your age.”

  “He named him Friday, huh?” she said curiously. “That’s my name!”

  “What?” Tim said, sitting up abruptly.

  “Well, it’s ‘Freitag’. It’s German…”

  “For Friday,” he finished for her.

  “Yeah, how did you know?”

  “I spent a little time in Germany a long time ago, and remember some words and phrases.”

  Now what do you say to that! He thought in amazement. He’d met his ‘Friday’. Wasn’t that a hoot? Things were getting curiouser and curiouser…

  “Well, my last name isn’t Crusoe,” he said, “it’s Flannery.”

  “Can I really read it?”

  “Sure thing, but first, help me clean up this mess from breakfast, then we’ll go for a walk and maybe find some fresh mushrooms.”

  They busied themselves with the washing up, and it amazed him that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since they met, and there wasn’t really any problem. She was an extremely bright and polite young girl, which he was immensely thankful for. As they were washing up, he remembered some flour and other baking things he’d acquired, and thought maybe tonight he would look up a bread recipe in one of the cookbooks he had gotten. He really craved some fresh bread, and the camper did have a small oven. After the chores were done and they were both dressed, Tim took his M4 and the .22 rifle, and they walked outside to a rather beautiful late spring morning. With only a hint of a breeze, the temperature was somewhere in the mid 70’s, with not a cloud in the sky. That might change later, but for now it was a really nice morning. Looking at his watch, Tim saw that it was just 10:30 AM, reassured that his watch still worked. It was his one OCD trait, he was completely lost if he didn’t know what time it was or couldn’t look to see. Slinging the M4 over his shoulder, he carried the .22 in his right hand, and he and Robyn walked away from the camper into the woods. No stranger to the outdoors himself, he was nevertheless impressed with Robyn’s knowledge of the local flora and fauna. Well, she was a down-home country girl, from West Virginia, he remembered.

  “So, are you going to teach me to shoot?” she said, looking up at him.

  “I guess.” He looked around for something to use as a target. After a few moments, he found an old rusted can, set it up on a fallen tree, and stepped back about twenty-five yards. He loaded the rifle and handed it to her, explaining how to properly hold it, and how to use the sights. She pulled the stock into her bony shoulder and peered down the sights.

  “Let her rip!” Tim said.

  POP POP POP POP POP!

  Five rounds let loose rapidly, and the rifle never jerked in her hands. The tin can teetered for a moment and fell. She let the rifle hang loose, looked at him and grinned.

  “Like that?”

  “Yeah, just like that!” He walked over to the where the can had fallen and picked it up. He whistled and looked back at the still smiling girl.

  “Never shot a rifle before, eh?”

  “Just my granddad’s BB gun once. It’s about the same, really, only louder.”

  Through the can were five tightly grouped .22 holes, about a half-inch in diameter.

  “Well I’ll be dipped in dogshit. You just keep shooting like that Miss Oakley!”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind, it seems like you’re a natural. It took me a while to be able to do that. Looks like you’re going to shoot us some supper tonight, that is, if you want to.”

  “Sure!” she beamed. “Like what, a squirrel?”

  “Nah, I was thinking more like a big fat rabbit”

  “I like rabbit. Ain’t had it in a while though. You reckon there’s any ‘round here?”

  “Oh, they’re plenty about. There’s a clearing over that way a bit, and they’re usually around that way some.”

  “Okay, let’s go!”

  They headed off towards the clearing where they sat with their backs against a huge oak tree and waited silently. They sat like that for maybe twenty minutes when all of a sudden, Robyn stiffened, grabbing his leg to let him know she’d seen something. Smiling inwardly, he thought she really did have the instincts for this. He followed her gaze to a spot about sixty yards away, where a fat cottontail was munching on some clover. He leaned over to her and whispered, “Try for a head shot. It’s a bit far, but see if you can.”

  She nodded slowly and raised the rifle up to her shoulder, thumbing off the safety. Her cheek was against the stock, and she let out a breath, squeezing the trigger.

  POP!

  The rabbit looked like it did a backflip, and fell on its back. They got up and walked over to the lifeless form. It was a perfect shot, right behind the left eye. One rabbit dinner, coming up, Tim thought.

  “Nice shot!”

  He knelt down, taking a pocket knife out of his jeans, and quickly gutted and skinned it. He looked up to see Robyn a little pale, but still smiling.

  “Not everything is real pretty, Robyn. But at least we’ll eat well tonight!”

  They walked back to the camper together and sat outside. Tim looked over at her thoughtfully. The waif was surprising him. They sat and drank cans of soda from the fridge, and watched the clouds build up in the afternoon heat.

  “Probably more storms tonight,” he said aloud.

  “Good! I like them. The sound of the rain on the roof is really cool.”

  “Yeah, I like them too. Sometimes, though, they can wreak a lot of havoc.” Tim went on to tell her of the storm in Philadelphia, and the firestorm that ensued from it, and why he’d left and come to West Virginia.

  “Maybe you were ‘spose to find me?”

  “Hmm. Maybe,” he grunted. He really didn’t want to think of that, because it raised the whole ‘God’ question again. He got a plate from the camper and cut up the rabbit into pieces, easy enough to fry. He took a quick look at the cookbook for the bread recipe, and decided to forgo that for the night. It looked a little involved and he didn’t have any yeast. He’d have to go back to a grocery store and get that.

  They went into the trailer and Tim put on some m
usic. They made small talk while Tim poured some olive oil into the large frying pan and heated it. While he floured and breaded the pieces of rabbit and placed them into the hot oil, he asked, “So tell me about your mom, Robyn.”

  “She was really pretty. Daddy got kilt in the mine a long time ago so it was just me and Mama. She worked in the diner. She said she never finished school, so she was always after me to study real hard, an’ stay in school. Sometimes Uncle Jake would come over and help around the house with things, fixin’ a window that got busted or somethin’.”

  “So he was her boyfriend?”

  “No! He was Mama’s brother!”

  “Oh, okay. And he was in the Army?”

  “Yeah, he’d come home on leave and stay for a visit, help around the house some. Then, a while back, Mama said he went to someplace, Berserkastan I think, and then she told me he wasn’t comin’ home anymore. That night she cried and cried. I didn’t know what to do, so I just hugged her real tight like.”

  “Berserkastan, yeah, that’s a good name for it. I’ve been there myself. Not really pretty.”

  “Maybe you knew him?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

  “I really doubt that, sweetie. There were a lot of soldiers over there.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Here, help me with this and we’ll eat.”

  They went about setting the small table and Tim portioned out the fried rabbit and creamed corn, which he figured was a safe bet on a vegetable with a probably finicky kid. They each ate ravenously, and he was correct about the corn; she ate it greedily, and that made him happy.

  After they were done eating, Tim got up, and without being asked, Robyn helped him with the dishes, which again made him really happy. It was still light out, but the sun was falling rapidly in the west, he saw when he went outside, sat down with a beer, and lit a cigarette. She called to him from the door, and he turned to see her standing with the book in her hand.

  “Tim, is it okay if I just read for a while?”

  “Sure. I think there’s a little light over the bunk.”

  “I found it! Thanks!” she said, and turned, letting the screen door shut behind her. He sat in his chair, and drank his beer, the carbine across his lap. He watched the storm grow until way past full dark, and in the process drank an entire twelve-pack. He got up unsteadily and made his way to the camper. When he got inside, he looked at the girl in her bunk. She was sound asleep with the book opened in her lap. He took the book from her hands and saw that she was already on page ninety three. Finding a piece of paper to use as a bookmark, he marked her page and set the book aside. He pulled the covers over her and turned off the small, built-in reading lamp. Double checking the battery’s charge, he figured it could wait until tomorrow before he charged it up again. He then made his way drunkenly to the tiny bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he stared at his reflection. He didn’t recognize the old guy staring back at him. Although clean-shaven, his hair was way longer than he’d ever had it in his adult life, and it was then he realized just how gray he was getting. He’d have to cut it at some point. Brushing his teeth and shaving, he finished and stumbled to his bunk. He fell back onto it and stared at the ceiling.