by C A Gleason
When Jonah thought of the radios, he was reminded of the baby they’d lost, and that was the main reason he hadn’t taken one with him since. That, but also if looters were on the same frequency, heard their conversations, and somehow deciphered them and discovered the cabin . . .
“I feel the same way, but we need to get over it,” Doreen said. “It’s rather silly. They’re not responsible for what happened. And what you do is dangerous. I don’t want you to get trapped again.”
“I won’t.”
“I know, but if you do—”
“Doreen—”
“You’ll be able to contact me. If you need to. And it makes sense because you’re a soldier.”
“Not anymore. I got kicked out.”
“Not of the present war. We’re all soldiers whether we like it or not. That includes you, so there should be a base. Right?”
Of course there should be. Why hadn’t he thought of it that way before? “Right. Except what if someone is on our channel somehow?”
“Wouldn’t that be positive? You’re assuming it would be bad people.”
“You know how I think. I just hate being surprised.”
“It’s a risk but a very low one. Hardly likely at all. If we ever encounter others, it will probably be because we choose to, and you will already know where they are. We have plenty of batteries. We might as well make use of them. And I have another request.”
Jonah wasn’t the only one who had done some thinking. “What?” he said.
“I don’t want to say over at the end of every sentence.”
Jonah laughed quietly. “Well, how will we know when to end the communication? What about over and out?”
“Over and out is fine.”
He blew out all his air. “OK, well, I don’t always want to have it on. If you contact me, it could make me a target somehow. I’ll just check in often. Plus, I don’t want to waste batteries.”
“I think we have plenty, Jonah. When we’re out of all those batteries you’ve collected, we’ll both be a hundred and fifty. But I’ll have mine on as long as you’re gone, and you contact me whenever . . . or just to talk.”
“When it’s safe. OK. It’s a good idea. I agree. Is there another reason?”
She hesitated in the dark. “Yes. Honestly just to hear your voice. I miss you while you’re away.”
“I miss you too. I wouldn’t be away at all if I didn’t have to be.”
“I know, but if you weren’t who you are, if I wasn’t with a man who was so capable, I wouldn’t be able to trust my daughter’s life with him.”
“Does that mean what I think it does? That I can take her hunting?”
“Yes.”
“Really? Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. That’s the other reason I want you to be able to contact me.”
Jonah should have thought of it. “Anything else?”
“Please be careful tomorrow.”
Jonah had been preparing Heike for her first hunt by reiterating the basics of gun safety for months. Target practice while standing in place was one thing; walking with a loaded weapon was quite another. “I will. I appreciate you trusting me with her. I’ll leave the radio on whenever she’s with me. That’ll be the exception so you can check in whenever you want. How’s that sound?”
“Good.”
“And if something happens, I’ll warn you off if I need to.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t want to give away your position if . . . they are near.”
They’re always around somewhere, he thought but didn’t say it. Then he suddenly thought of something else that could go wrong. “If I ever contact you and say, ‘Anybody copy, over?’ I’m in trouble and can’t speak freely. You won’t have trouble remembering because you don’t want to say over.”
“Got it, but why not just tell me what’s going on if something happens?”
“I will if I can. It’s just a contingency to warn you in case something’s wrong and I can’t explain for some reason.”
“What should I do if you say that?”
“Nothing. Someone might find a two-way radio very interesting and wonder who’s on the other end. They might be very curious where that’s located. We have to protect this place.”
“My Jonah, always backing up the backup plans.”
“If I’m good for anything, right?”
“You’re good at too many things to count.”
“That’s nice of you to say. But I still make mistakes.”
“Everyone does.”
Something had been gnawing at him for long enough. “There’s something else that’s been on my mind. I want to talk about that day a while back.”
“What day?”
“When I got drunk and said those horrible things.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not really.”
“Feels that way.”
“Not to me. I threatened to leave.”
“I remember.”
“And I couldn’t understand your silence or what you were going through, and my expectations were absurd.”
“You left for a little while, but you came back. We were arguing a lot back then. We do that sometimes.”
“I know, but I’ve realized something, and I’m not sure if it will make sense.”
“I always like to listen to you. Sometimes it’s a riddle.”
“I’ve been through enough to know that sometimes you can look back and wish you would have done something different, to change things so that the very bad thing that happened, that you didn’t want to happen, didn’t happen at all. That was one of those times for me. If I’d left—”
“You wouldn’t have.”
“In my drunken stupor, I wasn’t myself. My point is, all I’ve done in my past is fuck up. I don’t ever want to be that way again. And I won’t ever do something like that again.”
“I know that.”
“Sometimes I feel like I need to reassure you. Not just for you but for me. If that makes any sense. You’ve been so patient with me, and I can’t say I have been as patient with you.”
“You have.”
“I can do better. And I will. You are my world. I love you, Doreen. Every decision I’ve made since then is to keep us safe. As safe as possible. No more slipping for me. I just wanted you to know.”
Doreen was silent for a while, until she said, “I love you, too. Sometimes what you say is complicated. I’ll think about what you’ve said. I’m ready to go to sleep now. But first . . .” As she trailed off, she kissed him.
They hugged, kissed some more, and then quietly made love.
CHAPTER 12
“I know I like to joke around sometimes, but today I need to be serious, to be safe, so don’t let it hurt your feelings. OK?”
“OK.”
“We need to stay about two meters apart.”
“How far is that?”
“About three steps.”
“Why?”
Jonah glanced over at Heike as she hunted to his left. She wore a purple coat suitable for winter in that it was bulky and puffy all over. Her face was somewhere in the middle of all of that warm wrapped around her head, but Jonah couldn’t see her face from the side. She didn’t quite understand everything he was telling her, but all that mattered was she was listening to him. And doing as she was told.
“Muzzle awareness,” he said. “The spacing allows us to aim our weapons safely, especially if prey appears. A generous sector of fire will allow either of us to shoot without endangering each other.”
“Like taking turns?”
“In a way, I suppose. Yes.”
As the two trudged through the snow, trees occasionally groaned or even cracked around them. The rise in temperature between night and morning had caused ice to melt. Wind grabbed hold of snow and blew it wherever it wished. Some gusts were so powerful they caused Jonah to look up for falling branches. If an entire tree fell to the ground, he wouldn’t have been surprised. At one
point it looked as if Heike were knocked off balance, but she’d simply taken a misstep.
Jonah held his silenced 9mm pistol, the weapon that had brought down many a cunning beast, including the prey they were currently hunting: the elusive rabbit. Because he consistently cleared the territory, the things they actually feared had been sparse as of late. He knew it was by his doing, and by no means were they out of danger, but it was daytime, and it was pleasant to be outside as humans were supposed to be and immersed in one of their most primal behaviors. It was especially fun because it was Heike’s first hunt. She also carried a silenced pistol but a smaller caliber.
“Keep your finger off the trigger.”
Heike’s finger moved off the trigger and out of the trigger guard. “I always forget.”
Jonah thought for a moment. “That’s because you’re telling yourself not to forget.”
“What?”
“You should try to remember not to do it. If you try not to forget, the definition of the word registers. Thus that’s what you do. Or don’t do. Understand?”
“Um . . . Not really.”
“Whenever I need to remember something, I tell myself to remember, not forget. When I used to tell myself not to forget, then I often did because forgetting is what forget means, but if I tell myself to remember, I won’t. I’ll remember.”
“Oh.”
“Whatever I tell you, if you don’t understand, that’s OK. I’ll explain it again if you want.”
“OK.”
“Just so you know.”
“Thanks, Jonah.”
“You’re welcome. You’re doing great.” Spying an opportunity to complement her and boost her confidence even more, he said, “You’re holding the weapon correctly. Your finger’s not on the trigger, and the muzzle is pointed at the ground.” Her finger sneaked back onto the trigger, but she took it off again, remembering. “Keep the pistol low but ready to raise up and aim and fire while maintaining muzzle awareness.”
She looked over at him. “Muzzle is at the end of the gun, right?”
“At the end of the barrel, yes.”
“And muzzle awareness means at the ground?”
“No, it means making sure you always know where your weapon is aiming. The ground is usually the safest place to aim. You aim at the ground until . . .”
“Until I’m ready to shoot.”
“That’s right. And only aim at what you intend to shoot.” Her finger found its way onto the trigger again. “Your trigger finger, Heike. Come on now.”
Heike made a sound that only eight-year-old girls could make. “I’m sorry. It’s just easier to hold it that way.”
“That’s true. It is, but don’t do it anymore. It’s easy to develop bad habits. Even with weapons.”
“Like what?”
“Well . . . when I was in the war, another soldier would use his thumb to flick the selector switch on his weapon from safe to fire incessantly.”
“Selector switch?”
“The safety.”
“And what’s incessantly?”
“It means nonstop.”
“He really did it that much?”
“Nothing ever happened. He never accidentally pulled the trigger, but you understand my point?”
“Don’t develop bad habits.”
“And why is that?”
“That’s how accidents happen,” she said, as if she’d heard Jonah say it a thousand times.
“That’s right. Bad habits can be dangerous. I mean how would you feel if you accidentally shot your favorite stuffy?”
She snickered. “She’s not even out here with us.”
“She might be one day. That would be something though, right? A gigantic version of your stuffy we had to put down.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Sorry. Just kidding.”
“Do you see many bears out here?”
“No. Not one.”
“They got them?”
“I believe so.”
“But there’s deer and rabbits?”
“Yes, but it’s much more difficult to hunt down deer and rabbits for them . . . Rabbits might be the next species we have to contend with.”
“Because they like to make so many babies?”
“They sure do.” Suddenly uncomfortable anywhere close to the talk, he said, “Explain why you need to keep your finger off the trigger.”
“Didn’t I do that already?”
“Tell me again.”
“Because I’m not ready to shoot yet.”
“What’s the other reason? It’s the most important thing to remember . . . I’ve told you before.” Jonah pointed at some branches sticking out of the snow. “Watch where you’re going so you don’t trip. I just gave you a hint.”
Her posture straightened as she looked ahead. “I remember! Because it’s loaded.”
“And how often to you treat a weapon as if it’s loaded?”
“Always.”
“That’s right. And why is that?”
“Because thinking of a weapon as loaded is the safest way to handle them. Even if it isn’t.”
He smiled at his own words. “Right. Think about what would happen if you had your finger on the trigger and fell.”
“I might accidentally shoot?”
“Right. And we don’t want that.”
“So I don’t accidentally shoot Feather.”
Jonah laughed. “Who’s Feather?”
“My stuffy.”
“I thought your stuffy was a bear?”
“Oh, I have lots.”
The two continued through the snow-blanketed forest. There was no hint of the game they were after as of yet. Branches that had snapped off during the freeze stuck up through fresh powder from the most recent snowfall. It was pleasant to hear some birds in the distance scattered among the groans of the trees, but it was impossible to tell which kind because Jonah couldn’t see them. Still, the sound of them felt reassuring.
The presence of birds probably meant Molter numbers were low or zero. If Molters were close, or close enough to be considered a threat, there wouldn’t be the sounds of any living things at all. Not that Molters fed on birds or considered them a reliable food source—if they could even get their claws on them—but birds often left territory that was dangerous. With birds around it meant the area was safe enough to go trudging through the woods during the daytime and armed while doing it. Today anyway.
“We’ve gone far enough,” Jonah said.
“But we haven’t got a rabbit yet.”
“I know. We’ll take a right here and make our way around. Still close to home but not so far as to worry your mom.”
“Can’t we just contact her on the radio again?”
“Yes, but us being away is what worries her. And I don’t like to keep you away from her for too long.”
“She’s always worried.”
Jonah snorted. “What?”
“She is. She doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”
Jonah inhaled and exhaled thoughtfully. “She’s been through a lot.”
“I know.”
“She’s getting better, though.”
Heike didn’t say anything for a while, as if she were mulling something over. “Are you all right, Jonah?”
He noticed she was still holding the pistol correctly, aimed at the ground, and her trigger finger outside the trigger guard. For some reason her question made him glad they were on a mission. “Yes.”
“I heard you . . . your tears before.”
He exhaled, thinking he sounded like an old man would, and knew she must have been referring to the day Doreen lost the baby. He wished he could think of another lesson to teach Heike, but unfortunately he was trapped. He had to discuss this with her. “I’m doing better. It was difficult. Thank you for asking.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Why do you call a gun a weapon?”
He felt himself grin. That was painless. Heike could change the subject as
easily as Doreen could. She said what she needed to say and then moved on. It was likely she’d learned it from Jonah too. “Because that’s what it is.”
“What about your machete?”
Jonah tapped the handle of the long blade dangling from his side. “It’s a weapon also.”
“But you don’t call a machete a weapon. You call it a machete.”
“True.” Jonah scratched at his deep, brown beard. “Hmm. You know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t remember why I think that way, but I’m pretty sure I learned it while I was in the military. Let me think . . . Had something to do with describing various guns, as you civilians call them.”
She extended her arm and with that the pistol. “I’m not a civilian. I’m a rabbit hunter!”
“Heike, you gotta be serious while holding a weapon.”
She shifted herself and all her winter clothes toward him, and her little smile vanished. “OK.”
“A gun isn’t just called a weapon. That’s just the beginning of its description. Every weapon is a weapon system, and each has its own destructive capability, like the size of the round . . . Do you know what that means?”
“The bullets?”
“That’s right and how fast it can shoot. How many bullets per minute if it’s an automatic. A machine gun. A semiautomatic means how fast you can pull the trigger. So, whenever I say weapon, I mean gun.”
“Is this pistol a semiautomatic?”
“Yes.”
“Is yours?”
“Yes.”
“Is a weapon still a weapon even when it’s not loaded?”
“Remember what I told you.”
“A weapon is always loaded.”
“You treat it that way,” he said, “for safety reasons. But to answer your question, yes.”
“Is a weapon is always loaded something you learned in the military too?”
“No, reinforced while I served, but it was my dad who taught me that.”
“Well, that makes sense, and I like to know things that make sense.”
“Then you and I are alike.”
Heike seemed satisfied with the idea because her pace quickened, and Jonah had to pick up his own to keep up with her. She turned her whole body toward him again, as if she were unable to do that with just her head due to the restrictions of her winter wear, and she smiled. Then it went away as suddenly as it appeared. “Is the rest of the world like it is here?”
