by Eric Walters
Finally, my mother, along with Sam and the men who had been moving the tables, started away. The two men with rifles remained on the top of the bridge, behind the barricade. I was so glad when she returned. I wanted to give her a big hug—something Ethan had no problem doing.
“Thank you,” Chris said to my mother.
“You should be thanking Sam. He’s the one who repelled them.”
“It was a little scary,” he said. “There were at least fifty of them. We tried to talk to them, persuade them not to come,” Sam said.
“And did they fire at you?” Chris asked. “That was our gunfire, when words weren’t working,” Sam said.
“You shot at them?” a man gasped.
“We shot into the air, well over their heads. We didn’t want to hurt anybody,” Sam said.
“But they didn’t fire at you, right?” another one of the men asked.
“They didn’t have guns, as far as we know.”
“I guess we were lucky they didn’t have weapons,” the woman said.
“I said they didn’t have guns, but they did have weapons. They had clubs, baseball bats, and a couple of them were carrying knives.”
“But why would they have weapons?” she asked.
“Why do you think they had weapons?” Sam asked. He sounded annoyed.
“Um…perhaps they were afraid and they wanted to defend themselves.”
“Yeah, and I guess I should have asked them that question,” Sam replied. I could hear the sarcasm in his voice. I liked that.
“You should have tried to talk to them,” she persisted.
“I tried asking them not to cross the bridge. That didn’t work, until we fired the guns to scatter them.”
“You shouldn’t have fired,” my mother said.
Everybody turned to her. “We shouldn’t have?” Sam asked.
“You used a lot of ammunition,” she said. “One or even two shots would have worked. How much ammunition do you have?”
“I have close to fifty rounds for my pistol, and I think there’s about the same for the rifles,” he answered.
“You might need that ammunition. The next group might have guns,” my mother said.
“You think they’re going to come back?” Chris asked.
“If it’s not them, then it’s going to be somebody else.”
“You can’t know that,” the woman said.
“Nobody can know anything, and it’s really not my business to even say anything,” my mother said.
“No, it isn’t,” the woman said, clearly feeling bold. “Nobody might come, and if they did we could probably talk to them, reason with them.”
Sam snorted. He looked like he was going to say something, but his grandmother silenced him with a look before he could start.
“I think we have to meet and discuss what we’re going to do in the future,” Chris said. “Wouldn’t everybody agree with that?”
How could anybody disagree?
“We’d better get going,” my mother said.
“We appreciate what you did,” Chris said.
“Yes, we really do,” Sam said.
“I was just following my training,” my mom said.
“She’s a Marine,” Ethan said proudly.
Some people looked impressed. Others—that angry woman included—looked even less pleased.
“I’ll walk you back to your canoe,” Chris said. “But first, can we make one stop at my cottage?”
12
The rain kept coming down. The first night, the sound of rain against canvas was gentle, and it lulled me to sleep. Now, after three days of steady rain, it was just driving me crazy. My mother had rigged a tarp to three trees to make a roof so that we had a place to stand and a place to cook. It was drier, but not dry. As soon as the wind came up it blew spray underneath. Thank goodness there was rain gear in with our camping gear. It didn’t keep you completely dry, but damp was better than wet.
I put my book aside. I’d read it three times. It wasn’t even a good book, but it was the only one I had. I’d noticed a wall of bookshelves at Chris’s cottage. I’d have to ask her if I could borrow a book or two. I was sure she’d lend them to me. After all, she had already given us some cheese, a big container sloshing with goat’s milk, and four big packages of seeds.
My mother had taken advantage of a break in the rain to use our camping shovel to plant the seeds. She’d chosen a spot in the middle of the island, surrounded by bushes but open enough to get sunlight—assuming the sun was ever going to shine again. It was important to plant the seeds in a place where nobody else could see them, since there was no point in growing food that somebody else was going to harvest and eat.
I didn’t expect the seeds to shoot up but I checked on them each day, just because what else was there to do? So far there was nothing to see but tilled black earth. At least it looked like good soil. How long would it take for them to grow? Would we really still be out here by then? Was it possible this—whatever it was—was going to last that long? And what if it lasted longer? It wasn’t like we could live in a tent through the winter…could we? I tried to put that thought out of my mind. Winter was still seven months away, and there was enough to worry about today without worrying about the future.
I crawled out of the tent and found my mother and brother sitting on flat rocks at the edge of the fire. There were a couple of shoes strategically hung above the fire to dry out.
“We’re almost out of dry wood,” my mother noted.
“We’ve used up most of the windfall on the entire island. We’re going to either have to go off the island to gather more or think about breaking or cutting branches,” I said.
“Emma, we’re not cutting much with our little hatchet,” she said.
It was the companion to our camping shovel and it was small. At least it was sharp. Mom had shown us how to sharpen the edge on a rock, and Ethan had been good about doing that.
“Maybe Chris could lend us an ax,” I suggested. “And maybe some books. I’d like some books.”
“I don’t care about books,” Ethan said. “I’d like to be dry. We could get out of the rain there.”
“I was thinking we could drop in for a visit, but not today.”
“So we’re just going to sit here in the rain today?”
“We’re not in the rain. We’re under a tarp,” she said.
I sat down on the third of the rocks that surrounded the little fire. The warmth felt good. As I sat down, Ethan got up. I could understand him wanting a little space. Living in a tent with your mother and sister wasn’t anybody’s idea of fun.
“I think it’s almost stopped raining,” he said. He was standing at the edge of the tarp, his hand out. “Maybe I should go fishing.”
“I’m not sure how we’d be getting along without you,” my mother said. “But be careful.”
“I’m bigger than all the fish I might catch,” he said as he grabbed his rod.
“You know what I mean. Stay alert, and get out of sight and into the bushes if anybody comes.”
He nodded and started off.
“Ethan!” I called out, and he turned around. “You really are making a difference, you know, you’re helping us a lot.”
He smirked. “Now I’m worried. Things must be really bad when you start being nice to me.”
“Then I’ll stop. I hope you fall in the lagoon.”
“That’s better.” He turned and was gone.
I was happy it was just me and my mom for a while. I had things to ask her that I didn’t think I should ask when he was around.
“I’ve been wondering. You asked Sam how much ammunition he has. How much do we have?”
“I have four clips.”
“So you have sixty bullets,” I said.
She looked surprised that I knew that.
“I’m a Marine kid. I know the Beretta M9 holds fifteen bullets per magazine.”
“That’s a lot of bullets,” she said.
Or not nearly enough, I thought but didn’t say.
“Have you given any thought to us going to Ward’s Island? I mean to live there?” I asked.
“I’ve thought about it, but nobody has invited us.”
“We could ask them if we could join. You did help them,” I said.
“Judging from the looks I got from some of those people, they didn’t appreciate my help, or even understand that anything was wrong.”
“How could they not know there was a problem?”
“People have a powerful ability to deny what they don’t want to deal with. Let me give you an example. During one of my last shifts in the ER, a woman came in with her daughter, who was about your age. They told the triage nurse that her daughter had abdominal pain.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, it was pretty clear to everybody that the daughter was pregnant, and the abdominal pain was probably the beginning of labor.”
“But what’s obvious to a nurse may not be to other people. I don’t know if I’d know somebody was in labor,” I said.
“But you would know she was pregnant just by looking at her. Neither the mother or the daughter seemed to know.”
“Come on, they had to know.”
“They claimed they didn’t, and judging from the reaction of the mother when I told her that her daughter was fine and that she was going to be a grandmother, I’m positive she didn’t know,” my mother said. “And strangest of all, that was the third time in my nursing career I’ve had the same thing happen.”
“That’s almost impossible to believe.”
“People don’t see what they don’t want to see. It’s part of human nature.”
“So you’re saying that the people on Ward’s Island don’t know they’re pregnant, right?”
She laughed. “In a roundabout way. I think some of those people will deny that anything might happen because they’re afraid of what could happen.”
“But ignoring or denying it won’t stop it from happening,” I said.
“In fact, it makes it more likely to happen. Have you ever heard that timing is everything?”
“Of course.”
“I think we’re going to have to wait until something happens before we ask them, or they ask us, to be part of things. We just have to hope it isn’t too bad.”
I was going to answer when we heard my brother scream.
13
My mother jumped to her feet and raced off in the direction of the scream. I hesitated for a split second and then spun around and grabbed my bow and quiver of arrows, which I’d hung on one of the trees supporting the tarp. I ran after her as he let out another scream.
I skidded to a stop just at the edge of the beach. Just past my mother I could see two men, and one of them was holding my brother around the neck, a knife in one hand.
“Stay back!” the man yelled.
My mother had the pistol in her hand, but she didn’t move or respond.
“Look, all we want is the fishing rod and the canoe!” the second man yelled out. “We don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“But we will if we have to!” the first yelled. The knife was now not just in his hand but held close to my brother’s throat.
“Look, you’ve brought a knife to a gunfight,” my mother said. Her voice was calm and quiet and almost reassuring. “You can just leave and nothing will happen.”
“I may only have a knife, but I have it to a throat. Put down the gun or I’m going to use it.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. “Because if you do harm him I’m going to kill both of you.”
“Not before I can kill him. Just back off. Let us take what we want and we’re gone. I’ll let the kid off on the other side of the channel.”
My mother didn’t answer. Was she thinking or stalling? Either way, I had to do something. I moved to my right through the bush. I didn’t think they’d seen me, so maybe I could surprise them. I moved as quickly and quietly as I could until I was certain that I was past the bend in the beach. I came out into the open, and I was right. I couldn’t see them but I could still hear them.
I pulled an arrow out of the quiver and slipped it onto the string. The sand of the beach softened my footfalls. I rounded the bend and the first thing I saw was the bright red of our canoe. Beside it was a small, weathered, beaten up little rowboat. That must have been how they’d got here. They’d come ashore and somehow seen our canoe and were going to steal it. It was now pulled out of the bushes where we’d hidden it and it was halfway in the water. They must have been ready to leave when Ethan saw them.
I continued to move forward and could now see the men still holding Ethan. Their backs were partly to me and their attention was fully on my mother. I crept on, positioning myself so that I was between them and the canoe and their little boat, blocking their escape route.
I was positive that my mother could see me now. She continued to talk, keeping their attention. Nobody was moving, and she had calmed them down. They were still yelling but it wasn’t as loud, or as rambling, and the man holding Ethan had lowered the knife slightly so it was away from my brother’s throat.
“It’s time for you to put the knife down completely,” my mother said to them. “You are now surrounded.”
They looked around and I could see their surprise to see me. I dropped to one knee, pulled the arrow back, and aimed. The man holding Ethan brought the knife up higher again. That was not what I’d hoped for.
“Emma,” my mother called out. “If he doesn’t drop the weapon I plan to shoot the one holding the knife. I’d like you to kill the other one. Put the arrow right through his chest, all right?”
I adjusted slightly so he was right in my sights. “I can do that.”
“We’ll kill him!” the man yelled. He slouched down, trying to use Ethan as a shield.
“No, you won’t. I’ll shoot you in the head, and you’ll simply release the knife as you drop to the ground dead. This is your last chance to put the knife down and leave.”
My mother brought her weapon up and aimed, and I did the same, targeting the very center of the other man’s chest. And then I realized that while this might all be a bluff, it might not be. If my mother was going to shoot the man in the head then I was ready to let my arrow fly. That thought should have terrified me, but it didn’t. I was ready.
“Put down the knife!” the second man yelled. “It isn’t worth it for a canoe!”
There was a slight hesitation, and then the man dropped the knife and released my brother. I felt a wave of relief rushing over me. Ethan, to my complete surprise, bent down and scooped the knife up before running to our mother.
She lowered her pistol, and I did the same with my bow but kept the tension in place. I could pull it back up and fire in an instant.
“Both of you get to your boat,” my mother said.
I eased off toward the side so that I offered them a free path to get away. They started backing away, stumbling, trying to move without taking their eyes off my mother. She advanced toward them and toward me. By the time they’d got to their boat she was at my side.
They started to push the boat back into the water. “We didn’t mean to harm anybody,” one of them said.
“You had a knife to my son’s throat!”
“I wouldn’t have done anything,” he said.
“I guess that’s where we’re different. I would have shot you in the head,” she said. “And if you ever come back here, I’m going to do it. If I see either of you again I’ll simply kill you on sight.”
There was such a calm tone in her voice. I didn’t know if they believed her, but I did.
They both jumped in their boat and began to row away. They were digging in with the oars, trying to move quickly, but watching, as if they thought a bullet or arrow might still be coming their way.
“Are you all right?” my mother asked Ethan.
“Yeah, sure, I’m good I guess.”
I could tell he was trying to hold back
tears, and I smiled at him. “Thanks for saving our canoe. You were very brave.”
We walked along the shore so that we could keep them in sight as they moved out of the lagoon and toward the lake. They stopped rowing and one of them stood up in the boat. He began gesturing and yelling at us. I could just barely make out the words—the threats. They finally grew tired of yelling and began rowing again. We watched as they grew smaller and smaller until they disappeared around the tip of the big island.
“Mom, would you really have shot them?” Ethan asked.
“If I had to.”
“And you?” he asked me. “Would you have done it, shot them?”
“I would have tried, although I might have hit you instead by mistake. The important thing is that they’re gone.” I turned to our mother. “They are gone, right?”
“They are, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back.”
I hadn’t thought about that. And now I realized it might be all I would be able to think about from now on.
—
After that incident, we decided that we had better explore more of the little islands around us. We wanted to see if any offered more protection. We didn’t want to chance a repeat visit from those two guys—or anybody they might have told about what they’d seen—and we also needed to do something for Ethan. He was clearly shaken by what had happened, and he needed to not just sit around. It couldn’t have been easy to have had a knife held to his throat. I was impressed he wasn’t bothered even more, although my mother said that people in shock often show nothing on the surface.
We paddled around and ignored those islands that were too little. We needed a place that would be big enough to give us room to live and hide. Ideally, it wouldn’t be too far from our present island—not just because it would be easier to move, but also because we’d be going back to water the garden we’d planted. It wasn’t like we could un-plant the seeds and take them with us. So, we focused on the nearby islands that were as big as, or bigger than, our little home.
