That was her way, never wanting to seem domestic. A wife was a man’s way of putting a woman second in command. Even strong women could be blinded by feelings and become susceptible. He’d heard the speech a million times. Really she was saying that she wasn’t her mom. She wouldn’t have let all those people die. “But it wasn’t her fault,” she would quickly add, “my dad made her keep quiet.”
Eli closed his eyes and allowed himself to ride the roller coaster in his mind bending the lines between reality and fantasy. He slipped into that dream of Mevia coming in from the balcony, and he almost believed it was real until in a flash of insight, he remembered the truth: Mevia never wore one of his shirts. That day when she came in from the balcony balancing ripe tomatoes with okra sticking out between her fingers, she was in her own clothes. She was always in her own.
Firewall up.
Chapter 22
Kilt
Later in the evening, after Kilt’s river bath, the Jepsum’s and the Clifton’s hiked over with bundles of food to throw a “welcome” feast.
After chaotic introductions—the children looping around their parents in a game of tag—the families busied themselves preparing the deer, chicken, fish, eggs, okra, pine nuts and fresh tomatoes. Kilt struggled to remember their names and ages. From the Jepsum’s there was: Andy, fourteen; Will, eleven; and Katy, nine. The Clifton’s had: Beth, nine and Miles, thirteen. Joe fit right in between the older boys being twelve, while poor little Jack was the baby of the whole bunch at seven. Kilt sat next to him at supper.
He enjoyed watching the group interact. Growing up in a large community of farmers where meal trucks pulled up every week to distribute rations, he was fascinated by this small, sustaining community. He learned that because they were such a tight, interconnected group there were no specific jobs assigned to each person, no “men hunt, women cook” roles. Instead they were rotated, sometimes the men going out to hunt and gather while the women stayed behind with the children, gardening, and then the next time, the women would go out. When he asked Penny she explained that because their group suffered so much loss in the past, they all believed it was crucial that every member possess all the skills for survival.
“It made things tricky before when husbands or wives would die and the one left became dependent on the group to pick up the slack. This way, we’re all self-sufficient so there are no weak links and no debts.” She rotated the chicken and pushed more bay leaves under the curling skin. “This way, Senior doesn’t have to worry about how I’ll fare if he dies. He knows I can feed my children.”
Kilt agreed with the logic. He wondered how it would be when he and James had their farm with their women. Would they send their wives out to hunt? As he watched Jep’s wife, Doddy, describe with flushed enthusiasm how she tracked and killed a deer, he decided, yes, he would. He smiled, picturing scrappy little Mevia out on the prowl.
There was also a kin-like relationship between the two families. The women thought of themselves as sisters and extended mothers to the children. The same for the men. He got a good bit of amusement helping Jep fry the okra. The kids gathered around their father/uncle as he stirred and sang.
Biscuits and gravy don’ make me lazy
But rolled oats n’ honey sure make me sing funny!
The kids laughed as he started over singing Biscuits and gravy in a high mocking voice. He repeated the song until the okra was brown and crispy all the while changing his voice to different pitches.
They feasted until the sun went down and all that was left was hot root tea.
As the children played in the background, catching fireflies, the adults sipped hot tea and listened as Kilt shared his story and told of his future plans. He said that he was going to the Corps to find a “friend” that could help him locate James, but he left out his involvement with the Eurasian government and his real plans for Eli.
“Or you could always stay here with us,” offered Doddy. “You and James.”
Kilt smiled. “I appreciate that. Really I do. But, what is it they say? Fourteen’s a crowd?”
They laughed.
“No,” Kilt continued. “I’ve got to be on my way soon. Of course,” he addressed all of them, “only after I chop some wood or do some chores to pay you all back for your food and kindness. I know having another mouth to feed can’t be easy.”
“It’s not,” said Rosie Clifton—Sam Clifton’s surly other half.
Penny nudged her.
“What?” She asked, her eyes flashing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was referring to the Plague.”
“The Plague?” Kilt shifted in his seat.
“That’s just what we call we call it.” Sam wrung his worked over hands. “It’s the problem with the second generation seeds. Being a farmer I’m sure you know about that.”
Kilt nodded. “Right. They’re not as fruitful. Smaller harvest.”
All six of them stared at Kilt soberly. He set down his tea, suddenly understanding that being a farmer from inside the Kradle was a lot different than being one on the outside, a disturbing idea he had never considered.
Senior reached into the wood pile and picked up a small log. “Maybe where you’re from, but out here, they’re not just less fruitful, son.” He threw the log into the fire, and the flames growled angrily. “They’re completely sterile.”
Kilt said nothing, still not absorbing what this meant.
“And their pollen,” Sam held up his finger, turning it in a circle, “blew through and pollenated a lot of our plant life. It’s one of the reasons we migrated down here.”
Kilt stared into the fussy fire and listened as they connected the train of causes and effects that produced the sterile pollen. By their description, it sounded more like an airborne disease that lived in the wind, reminding him of Medusa, except pollen didn’t die mid-air like a virus.
The chain that linked the two plagues tied a cold, hard knot in his stomach. The sterility could be like another wave of Medusa, only worse. The pollen could live in the plants for a generation, maybe more. This plague would be like the Medusa that starved you to death, only this time if there was no food, there would be no survivors.
“What can we do about it?” Kilt asked, his throat tight, hoping they’d have an answer. What good was a farmer in a sterile world?
Senior, who seemed to always call it like he saw it, offered no silver lining. “Nothing.” He scratched his beard. “Just struggle. Survive. Maybe plant crops so there will be more good pollen floating around, at least then there would be some hope.” He shook his head. “But it’s already spreading down here too.”
“That’s why we’re leaving,” Doddy said. “That and the fact that the drones are getting worse.” She turned and addressed Penny. “I sighted four today. Four!” She pushed her dark, coiled hair away from her face. She kept it untied, the curls starting small at the top and flaring as they went down forming a triangle just above her shoulders.
“Wait.” Kilt moved to the edge of his seat. “Leaving? Where will you go?”
Jep’s shining dark eyes flickered off into the distance. “Northwest.”
“Why?” asked Kilt. “What’s up there?”
Senior tossed another log on the fire, making it so hot Kilt turned his face away. “Fertile land,” Senior said. “Fertile seeds. Fewer drones.”
“How do you know?”
Senior shrugged. “Rumors and common sense.” He looked at Penny and placed a hand around her thin shoulders. “Plus, we don’t have a choice, Kilt.” He looked up into the trees, the bags under his eyes illuminated by the yellow glow of the fire. “Our forest is dying.” He took a deep breath. “And everything along with it.”
Penny wiped her eyes and looked at the children.
Kilt began to understand. “Does this have anything to do with what Joe wanted you to ask me?”
The men glanced at one another. Senior picked up a stick and began drawing in the dirt. Joe appeared beside him as if beckoned by a six
th sense.
“We’re here.” Senior made an X. “And the forest that hasn’t been affected by the Modified pollen, we think…is here. Now, right over here.” he indicated an open area. “Is where we’ll have to cross. It’s our only option.”
Jep broke in “Unless of course we want to make a big circle and risk our necks trekking through The Shitlands. That’s what we call ‘em.”
“That’s right,” Senior continued. “This whole surrounding area is filled with everything from wild moose to air drones. I guess you could say that we’re getting cornered in over here.”
Kilt leaned on his chin and studied the map. “Ok, so you’ll cut through. What’s the problem?”
Jep spoke. “That open field is over a mile wide and it’s a landing and take-off strip for the drones. Hundreds of ‘em.” He looked at Kilt gravely. “There’s no way we would get through undetected. Even if we didn’t have the kids.”
Kilt studied each of them. Penny and Doddy fidgeted nervously while Rosie and the others watched Senior intensely.
“And here,” Senior made a bold circle, “is the communications tower.” He looked Kilt in the eye. “That’s our target.”
“Our target?” Kilt raised an eyebrow.
They laid out the plan. All Kilt would have to do, is climb up the ten story ladder, plant his grenades in the control center, slide back down and head east.
The grenades. They must have found them after they fished him out of the river.
Senior continued to explain, “And as soon as the bombs go off, it’ll be the signal for the others to hightail it across the field. After that, you head out to wherever it is you need to go.”
As if it were that simple.
Kilt sat up straight, crossed his arms, looked at the map and then up at the group. He chuckled. “No disrespect, but are you all for real?”
Rosie frowned. The rest remained expressionless.
Kilt gazed back down at the map and sighed. “I’d be taking a huge risk.”
“I know,” Senior said with affirmation. “And we would be indebted to you.”
Kilt pointed. “I mean, even if I manage to climb up that tower without falling and breaking my neck. I still have to plant the grenades and then I have about five seconds to slide, not climb, but slide down the ladder and run away. Right?” Kilt held up his hands. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “The three of us will be with you.”
“Which three?”
“The men. So we’ll all have to make it down in under five seconds.”
Kilt buried his face in his hands. “Why?” He lifted his head. “Why would all of us go?”
Senior answered, “Because it’s a four man job.”
“Why?”
“You need the strength of three to open those control center doors, and then one to plant it. After that, we’ll drop the latch and slide down the ladder.”
“Have you ever gone up there to try opening it? Make sure it’s possible?”
“We have,” Senior said placing his hand on Penny’s shoulder. “One day we snuck up there, held open the latch, and sent Penny inside to try and figure out how to disarm the thing.”
Penny spoke. “But it was far too complicated. Even if I had a huge rock, I don’t think I could smash the place. We need something more powerful.”
Kilt tongued at a hangnail on his thumb as he eyed the drawing. “How, may I ask, do you know all of this about the comm tower?”
Senior tapped his stick on ground. “Because of a man named Billy.”
Kilt remembered what Jack had said. “Billy who?”
“Wouldn’t say.”
Kilt almost rolled his eyes. Great. This conversation was getting better and better. Sam explained that Billy was a former drone repairman who had defected from the Kradle. He was a drifter who, like Kilt had stumbled upon their camp, and was the one who originally drew the map in the dirt and told them everything he knew about the forest, the drones and the tower. He even knew most of the flight patterns.
“I’m not going to lie to you, this plan is risky.” Senior grabbed another log. “We’re only taking the chance for our children.”
Kilt frowned. “Then why ask me to take the same risk?”
They grew quiet, their faces blank. Finally Joe, who he had forgotten about, spoke. “Because we need you.”
Kilt’s eyes traced the dirt lined grooves between Senior’s feet, as he went over the plan in his head. “So, we’ll only need to use one grenade, right?”
This time, all three men shook their heads.
Sam spoke. “We absolutely need to rig two bombs. One to take out the control panel, and the other for the satellite feed. They’re in two different sections inside the tower.”
Kilt sucked his teeth. “I don’t know.” He looked at each person. “Not only would I be risking my life, but you also need both of my grenades? I’m sorry, fella’s, I appreciate your hospitality beyond words, but--”
“Not to mention we saved your life,” Rosie added, with her hand on her hip. This time no one nudged her.
“Of course,” Kilt replied sheepishly. “For which I will be forever grateful. But you have to understand,” he addressed them pleadingly. “I still have my brother, James, to think about. I might need…I probably will need that second grenade.”
“What for?” asked Rosie.
Kilt tried to find the right words. “I’m involved in something I’d rather not get into, but I will tell you this much: I might need that grenade for my protection.”
“That’s alright.” Senior raised his hand cutting anyone off before they could speak. “We of all people understand the need for secrecy and protection.” He gestured to the group. “We understand you need to watch out for yourself as well as your own. And we know we’re asking a lot, but,” he paused, his eyes beckoning, “just think about it ok? We do need you.”
Kilt looked down at the drawing for a moment before he answered. “I will.” But he couldn’t bring himself to look up. “I promise I’ll consider it.”
Chapter 23
That night Kilt lay awake in bed, Jack and Joe were snoring softly at the opposite end. He supposed this meant Penny trusted him now, although there were soft voices coming from their hut. He wondered if they were discussing him while keeping one ear open.
Well they could just quiet down and go to sleep because he wasn’t going to hurt their boys and he certainly wasn’t going to help them escape. At least not in the way they wanted him to. He’d lead them to the north and then they could turn and head west. Hell, he might even go further than that and accompany the group until they were safe, but he wasn’t going to grenade a tower.
And who were they to ask him to use both grenades? They were his only real weapons through these treacherous woods and, what? He was supposed to just give them away? How could they even ask such a thing? So what if he didn’t have any kids? If he did what they asked then he might never have any. He’d lose his nuts or his neck and any chance of a future Kilt Jr. would be gone-zo.
He could leave right now. No one would hear him and he’d be free and clear to the Kradle. Nothing was keeping him here.
Kilt sighed, knowing he wouldn’t do such a thing.
He didn’t sleep for a long time, only stared at the ceiling listening to Jack breathe, the soft hum of air expelling from his tiny nose. He looked over at the boy and admired how the glow of the fire illuminated his angelic face. He thought of James.
Jack stirred in his sleep but soon went still.
Then again, if he didn’t help these people, what would happen to little Jack?
Kilt rolled to his side. He was almost comfortable except the fact he resented the rock wall pressed firmly against his back.
Chapter 24
Mevia
After an early morning breakfast of Guinea eggs and fried bananas, Sandra took Mevia aside and led her down a foot path into the jungle. In the crook of her arm she carried a basket that looked to be filled
with cloth. “We have a fresh water bathing hole that I thought you’d like to visit,” she said, patting her back.
Mevia scratched her clammy neck. She was dying for a bath, but was hesitant about the hole. “Will there be anyone else there?”
Sandra shook her head. “Everyone has agreed to give you your privacy. You will not be disturbed. I also brought you a change of clothes. They’re pieces we scavenged from the abandoned houses around the island.”
They zig-zagged along over the thin, foot-worn trail that sloped downward through the never ending web of leaves and vines. In the distance there was a group of goats braying, voicing their approval of the new morning.
Finally they came upon a shallow, rock lined pond about the size of several large bathtubs. A small stream of rain water fed into the bath, flowing through until it left the opposite side, continuing down in a thin river toward the ocean.
After Sandra left, Mevia sat in the cold water and scrubbed her skin until she was pink from head to toe. It was shocking how pale her legs were once she removed the layers of ingrained dirt. I’m going to look like the tribe albino after this bath. She thought.
She stood and dried off with one of the towels from the basket, thinking that pretty soon her hair was going to dry into a big yellow puff.
Sandra had left her a light blue t-shirt and loose fitting kaki skirt. There was also a pair of leather sandals. There, she thought, I’m officially Triton now. She went back into the Clearing and as she walked past the main campfire, she tossed in her old, sack dress. She watched it burn.
Unsure of where to go next, she glanced around furtively. Some of the men paired off while others went out alone. Thomas and Cree headed toward the beach carrying netting and other tools she wasn’t familiar with.
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