by Aborn, A. L.
A whistle.
Shrill and long.
Nothing that I had ever heard an animal make.
Looking around wildly, I spot a camouflaged figure in the trees. My breath catches in my chest. Frozen, like I’m stuck in a nightmare.
Before I can force my breath out in a scream or flog Beau into action, the figure pulls his hood back.
Ally’s brother!
“Michael?” I cried. “Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!”
Climbing down from his tree stand, a gun shoved into the waistband of his pants and another slung over his shoulder, he makes his way over to me. I find myself laughing, the unused adrenaline from my panic attack pumping through my veins, leaving me weak. I almost feel drunk with relief.
“I can’t believe you’re here! Are you okay? Are your parents okay? Are your girls here?” The words rush out of me in a whoosh.
He laughs, looking up at me on Beau’s back. “Yes, everyone is here, and we are okay.”
“I’ve been with Ally and Brad since the power went out. They are okay, too. I came up to check on you guys.” Saying the words out loud, the plan seemed silly to me. Me? Check on them?
“Come on, Mom will want to see you,” he says, starting to walk down the road.
Meekah is starting to move more furiously now in the backpack. I can’t wait to get off this horse!
I can hear them before I can see them. The sounds of people talking and laughing, the thunk of an axe sinking into wood, and the bleating of a goat all sound so familiar to me, my eyes cloud with tears. I feel like all I ever do is cry. I swallow, gathering myself as we near Ally’s childhood home.
This.
This is what I was looking for at my dad’s house.
To be surrounded by people and not feel fear creep up my spine. The prospect of relaxing, truly relaxing, even for just a few moments leaves me too emotional to speak.
As we close in on the driveway, Michael shouts, “Ma! I found someone out on the road!”
The sounds of people talking abruptly shut off.
As we come into sight, I can’t believe my eyes. It seems like there are people everywhere. And there, the face I most wanted to see right now: Marie. She pushes through the crowd, coming toward me. “Baby girl! Oh my god! You’re here!”
And then there are faces around me; hands gently pulling me off Beau and handing me down. I recognize the faces: Ally’s aunts and uncles and cousins. My leg gives way under me as I touch the ground, but more arms come into support me. Then, more hands pull my backpack off my shoulders, opening the pack and releasing Meekah from her confines. Beau is being led away. I can barely get a word out; so many people are telling me how happy they are to see me. Marie takes my face in her hands before hugging me so tightly I can hardly breathe.
Leaning back, she exclaims, “Okay, back off people. Let’s get her into the house and let her rest before we get her story.” Always the matriarch, everyone falls in line.
As I half-walk and am half-carried to the house, Marie squeezes my hand before whispering, “Ally?”
I smile and nod my head. Marie’s face splits into a grin, her eyes twinkling.
Settling me on the couch, Marie immediately tries to pull my pants down in front of everyone to examine me. “Hey! Hey! What are you doing? There are other people in here!”
She just laughs and calls me a wimp. The others file out the door, going back to whatever it was they were doing before my arrival. Meekah slips into the house before they shut the door, pressing herself to my good leg. Easing my pants down, Marie examines my leg. The sight of my knee alarms me; it’s more swollen than it had been that morning and is purpling up. “What did you do, hunny?”
“It’s a long story.” She just stares at me until I give her the answer she wants. Reluctantly, I give her the shortened version of my injury. Marie is just now someone you ignore. I let her hands softly explore the area while I spoke. She urges me back onto the couch and lifts my leg up onto the coffee table.
Standing, Marie heads to the kitchen to sort through her jars of herbs. I close my eyes while I listen to her talk to herself about what to give me. It feels so good to sit here. It’s warm and homey. I feel safe.
Before long, Marie presses a warm mug into my hands. She says something about pain and sleep, but I am so tired that the words don’t register. “Drink it all,” she demands. Obliging, I gulp the bitter concoction down.
Letting my head drift back onto the couch, I again shut my eyes. Meekah climbs up beside me, nestling in.
“Beau?” I asked.
“The horse? He’s fine. They put him in with the goats. Why don’t you just rest a bit?”
The world is already slipping away from me as slide into a deep sleep.
***
I rise to wakefulness slowly. Warmth and comfort. A soft blanket over me, the smell of a woodstove and food in my nose. Quiet noises from the kitchen. When I finally open my eyes, I see that it’s dark outside. Almost like she knew that I was awake before I did, Marie asks, “Are you ready to eat?”
I nod my head, finding that my stomach is growling. My knee feels a little better; I see that Marie has wrapped my knee in something cooling, covered with a bandage. Walking to the door, Ally’s mom calls for everyone to come in for dinner. People begin filing in, most coming over to me give me a hug. There are children and adults, a line of people coming in, in what is obviously a familiar practice. A bowl is put down for Meekah, along with the other dogs’ dishes. She eagerly goes to Marie for the food and scarfs it down in no time. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, hunny. We all gotta eat.”
She brings me a large bowl that is hot to the touch. Chunks of chicken and potatoes, green beans and onions, swimming in broth. On the side is a slab of homemade white bread. Bread! For the first time in what feels like forever, I eat until I am full.
After everyone cleans their plates, the kids are taken out of the house by Ally’s sister-in-law and cousin. Some eyes turn expectantly toward me and I realize that they are waiting for me to talk. They had all been patient in waiting for me to rest before bombarding me with questions, I owe them answers.
It took all evening to tell our story. I gloss over some things; not revealing the details of how we came to take over the farm and all its resources. Instead, I say that we found the elderly couple dead. Some of Ally’s uncles nod in appreciation as I describe Brad’s use of the whistles and drill practice. They are all relieved to hear that Ally, Brad, and I, had managed to live safely for so long.
As my own story comes to a close, the others take over and tell me of how they had all come to be here. Since Marie and Eugene had the only generator and alternate power sources, the rest of the family had trickled in over the first three days, mostly to shower and visit. When the power remained off, the move became permanent. They gathered everything from their own homes to contribute to the growing homestead. Because of their contributions, combined with the extremely rural setting, the group had mainly been left alone and managed to thrive.
There are only a few rules here: the first and most important was that you never the left the grounds alone. The men did most of the scouting, always in pairs. Someone was always on watch during the day, as I had found Michael yesterday. Everyone, (except the children) was always required to keep a weapon on them. These rules weren’t written down or stated in any sort of formal order, just tidbits that I picked up on during their narrative.
As the evening wore on, some of the others began to trickle out of the cabin. Eventually, only Marie, Eugene and I remained in the cozy living room, lit only be a few candles and the glow from the woodstove. The warmth of the fire and Meekah pressing against me, a full belly and safety… My eyes somehow feel heavy again. My knee is sore and uncomfortable, but my comfort level is pushing the achiness into the background. I am only dimly aware of Marie letting Meekah outside to do her business before I close my eyes.
***
The smell of
bacon wakes me. That smoky rich aroma is like an alarm clock after not smelling it for so long. It’s still dark outside, but Eugene had loaded the woodstove and Marie was tending to two large pans on the broad stovetop. Rashers of bacon sizzled in one while the other was full of scrambled eggs.
Before long, the rest of the family joins us in the cabin. Some of the kids pile onto the couch with me, bright-eyed and curious. Some of them are so young that I’m not sure if they remember me from before, but for now, I’m new and have a cute dog.
Marie serves me a plate where I still sit on the couch; the bacon and eggs accompanied by a slab of the homemade bread. I close my eyes, savoring the moment. The murmur of many hushed, early morning conversations provides the background noises as I eat my breakfast, passing Meekah a piece of bacon. Much to my surprise, Marie passes me a hot mug of coffee. Coffee! “Sorry, it’s instant, baby girl, but better than nothing.”
The bitter brew is the last touch to what feels like a perfect morning. We’re only missing Brad and Ally. Marie gives me another mug, this one a tincture of herbs to help with pain and swelling. “Don’t worry,” Marie told me, “this one won’t put you to sleep.” She smiles down at me as I choke down the acrid tea. Checking my knee again after the others had left for their morning chores, Marie deems me well enough to get off the couch. The swelling had gone down overnight, but a nasty bruise mars the otherwise pale skin of my leg.
After breakfast, the compound becomes a flurry of activity. Michael brings me a walking stick so that I could ‘hobble around,’ as he put it. My knee still aches, but it holds my weight without too much added discomfort. I decide to go out and look around, Marie and Meekah at my side.
Upon arriving the day before, everything had been a blur; I hadn’t noticed the details of the property. Going out with fresh eyes felt like I was walking into a miniature village. Well-traveled paths wound through outbuildings and soon-to-be-gardens, piles of wood in various states of being chopped and stacked, animal pens and campers. Apparently, when some of the aunts and uncles had decided to move here permanently, they had dragged their camping trailers along with them. There was even another cabin being erected next to the barn. “It’s crowded,” Marie tells me, “but we manage.”
A hutch with several rabbits stands near the center of the compound, protected from predators by the close vicinity of the campers and people. The hutch is well insulated and several faces peer out at me curiously. “Holy shit, Marie,” I exclaim, while trying to count them, “How many of them are in there?”
“I’ve lost count,” she laughs. “We separate the does with litters, and do our best to keep the bloodlines separate, but other than that, we have just been letting them breed. They are easy to care for and feed and provide an ever-growing food source.”
I look at their sweet bunny faces and think that it would be hard for me to slaughter rabbits. But then again, like Marie said the night before, we all need to eat.
A make-shift barn houses six goats and Beau. He neighs to me at my approach, nuzzling into my neck with his warm, velvety nose. He looks clean, like someone brushed him, and has plenty of hay in his stall. I thank Marie for caring for him so well. She nods and pats his neck affectionately.
Beside the barn is a homemade smoker and a large chicken coop; the chickens are free to roam during the day. I spy two hens sitting in milk crates filled with straw. “Are they sitting on eggs?” I ask.
“Yes. This is the first time we’ve let them keep any of the eggs. We are going to need a lot more chickens around here, pretty soon.” She laughs. “I’m glad everyone is here, but damn! It’s a lot of mouths to feed. It’s a full-time job just cooking!” She sighs, but I can tell that she is content caring for them.
A white rooster with a large red comb sneaks around the side of the coop. Spying Meekah, he fluffs himself up and aggressively walks toward us. Marie quickly put herself in front of him, shooing him away. Eventually, he runs under the barn, turning to glare at us with his little beady eyes. “Don’t mind him,” Marie says, “his name is Peckerhead for a reason, but he does protect the hens.”
The greenhouse concludes our tour of the sprawling farmstead. Inside, the moist, hot air feels like I am walking into a sauna. In every sort of shallow container, made from cut up plastic bottles or egg cartons, tiny green shoots are sprouting out of soil. There are a couple tall tomato plants, spinach plants, and even an upright pallet of almost-red strawberries. “I’ve been trying to start plants periodically so that we always have something close to harvest. It’s been hard, and I’ve lost a lot of plants. All these sprouts will be going into the ground as soon as we’re clear of the frosts, then I’ll start another batch in the greenhouse. It’s trial and error, but so far, so good.”
I am awed at their food supply.
Thank God that no one knows about this precious oasis in the middle of the New Hampshire woods.
They hardly lack for anything. Sure, everyone looks as though they may have lost a few pounds, but none of these people have that gaunt, thin-cheeked look that I have seen on everyone else. Brad, Ally, and I had certainly lost a bit of weight, but these people… they really were thriving.
After our exploration, Marie leads me back into the cabin. Sitting with my leg elevated on a stool, she places a bowl of hard-boiled eggs in front of me. I shell them carefully, listening to Marie tell me stories about getting everyone together. Despite all the hardships that this new world presents, she was able to smile about the crazy antics of her many animals and family members. I envied her easy-going nature; that she was able to stare into the face of this new world… and laugh.
***
As we sit down for dinner that night, I find rabbit stew in front of me. Pretending not to know what I’m eating, I find myself enjoying it, despite my hesitation. Meekah devours her own portion, nosing around under the table and various perches for any dropped scraps.
The topic of discussion tonight is how to get Ally, Brad, and I to combine resources with them. Yes, it will mean more mouths to feed, but we have our own supplies to add, and we are family, after all. No matter how we brainstorm, moving with the livestock and all our goods will mean slow-going. With all that baggage in tow, the trails are effectively closed to us. Traveling the entire distance by road means taking on extra risk. But what else can we do?
They assure me that they have spent the winter planning this very trip. Despite Marie’s eagerness to get to her daughter as soon as the power went out, the snows had proven too difficult.
While they all discuss the logistics of how such a move can be successfully pulled off, I find myself picturing the cold loft where I spent the winter at Ally’s. Can we move to this paradise? Ally and Brad’s house and the farm… I feel like we have fought for them, created a life out of the land. It’s been hard and lonely sometimes, but it’s ours. I can only compare the thought of moving here to Marie’s like moving into a hotel. How much easier will it be with this many people working together?
Why do I feel torn? Like I will miss the farm? This is a no-brainer! Don’t be stupid!
I look around at the familiar faces lit by the glow of the woodstove. The kids giggle over their food, throwing peas at one another when their parents aren’t looking. The smiles on everyone’s faces are only interrupted when their worry for Ally and Brad pushes through.
Ah. It feels too good to be true. That’s my hesitation. Of course, I want to live here! But where? I can’t stay on this couch forever. Grinning into my food, I let their conversation wash over me as I think about building another cabin on the property; of Meekah running around the yard, protected by these circumstances.
***
Slowly, a plan comes together.
Ally and Brad are expecting me to return seven days after my departure for my dad’s house. This is day four. Marie insists that I stay and continue to ease my knee; there’s no sense in riding Beau and possibly injuring it further. On day seven, Marie, Eugene, Michael, and Ally’s cousin David are g
oing with me to Ally and Brad’s.
For one, Marie doesn’t want me to ride Beau with my knee like this, and I can’t say that I disagree. For two, this will allow Michael and Eugene to scout the roads between their house and Ally’s, in preparation for the move. Marie makes it clear that she is going right from the beginning, I can tell that she is desperate to see Ally as soon as possible. Marie also states that they can’t be away from the property overnight; there’s just too much to do. So, we will leave in the early morning, make the roughly ten-mile trip to Ally’s, and discuss the plan with them before turning around and going back to their house.
Sounds reasonable, while we are discussing it, but the unknown terrors of the road creep in, marring my excitement of returning to Ally and Brad. I only hope that the four of them are enough to keep us safe.
***
The remaining days fly by; I help where I can, especially in food preparation. Continuing to drink Marie’s disgusting herbal teas and elevating my knee is helping and I can feel improvement every day.
Early in the morning on the seventh day since I left home, everyone gathers in front of the cabin.
The five of us are each armed with two guns. Eugene has opted to take the jeep with the top removed; each of us able to clearly see and fire our guns. The back of the jeep is loaded with precious cargo: a five-gallon jug of gas and a bottle of dry gas. Marie and Eugene had a supply stocked in one of the sheds for emergencies. My frame pack is also in the back, packed full of jars of stew and potatoes, that Marie insisted I take. There is even a loaf of bread wrapped in a towel, still warm from the oven.
After our hugs to the rest of the family and wishes for safe travel, Michael mounts Beau and the rest of us pile into the jeep. Eugene helps me get into the back, it’s awkward trying to climb in with the walking stick and my bum knee. And just like that, we’re ready. The jeep rumbles to life beneath me, and Michael leads the way, confident on Beau. I look behind me as roll out of the driveway; the people gathered there watch solemnly as we disappear from view.
