The Last Tribe

by Brad Manuel

  “That’s enough work for today. Did you get the window stuff?”

  “Yep” Greg replied, panting a bit. “I have an entire case. I also found boxes of those ready start logs in case we ever have an emergency and need to start a fire quickly.” He pulled the van door down, and walked around to the warm cab.

  “Ah, that feels good.” Greg slumped down into the seat. He pulled salmon jerky out of his pocket acquired from LL Bean, opened the bag and offered Rebecca a piece.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “I got a case of this too.”

  “Isn’t shopping fun?” Rebecca said as she slipped the van into drive.

  “Once again, this wasn’t shopping. We didn’t pay for anything.”

  “Well, it sure felt like shopping.”

  They chatted and ate salmon jerky during the ride back to Hanover. They backed the van onto the yard and around the house, getting as close to where they wanted a bathroom as possible. The port-o-johns were big, heavy pieces, and it took a lot of muscle to get them next to their back door.

  There was a small back porch extending off the back door of the cottage. Four steps led onto a concrete slab. They decided to put one of the bathrooms just off of the slab. It was going to be cold, but as convenient as an outhouse could be.

  “It’s an improvement, that’s for sure. We’ll figure something else out in the spring, but for the winter? I think we’re good.” Rebecca stood with her arms crossed and a smile on her face, admiring her find.

  “Okay, that’s enough posing. You did well. Let’s move the van and get the rest of our stuff inside.” Greg was excited to surprise her later with the offer of a hot bath.

  It took them an hour to unpack the van. Greg snuck the bathtub in while Rebecca pre-built a fire in the woodstove.

  “I propose we continue to use the bathroom next door until the pipes freeze or the water pressure fails. Let’s use the port-o-potty when absolutely necessary.” Rebecca disliked the idea of an outhouse, and wanted to delay its use as long as she could.

  “I totally agree. I’ll shovel the path to next door as long as we need to.” They sat on their couches, sifting through their items. It was 3:30. Greg was exhausted.

  “We have two hours of daylight. Let’s catch some fish for dinner. Walk down to the pond with me. We’ll use jerky for bait. Come on, fresh fish for dinner!” Rebecca had an endless supply of energy.

  “Seriously? No way, I’m done. You go ahead.” Greg was too tired. He wanted to organize his new stuff and sit on the couch, keeping warm next to the fire. “It’s cold, it’s cloudy, it’s gloomy, and I think it’s spitting rain out there. We can fish tomorrow.”

  “I want fish for dinner. I don’t want to go alone. You’re my only option. Get off your butt, put on a coat, and let’s go. You’re 14 not 40. Pick yourself up and let’s catch some dinner.”

  That was that, Greg was going. “Okay.” He grumbled. Fish did sound good. He took the fishing pole she extended to him, put on his coat and gloves, and walked out the door with her.

  Rebecca loved to fish. She did not know why. Fishing was outside of her other passions. For some reason floating a line in water brought her joy.

  They turned left on Choate Road and walked the quarter of a mile to Occom Pond. The grass was tall as they left the road and entered the field surrounding the water. They found a nice spot to stand and cast their lines close to the water’s edge. Rebecca carried an old fashioned wicker creel from the hunting store, and she dropped it from her shoulder to the ground next to her.

  “Let’s fill this thing up.” She threaded a piece of jerky on her hook and cast it out into the water. The red and white bobber bobbed for a few seconds, then became still.

  “Are we here to catch dinner or are we here because you like to fish?” Greg watched Rebecca’s stride down to the pond. She had an extra skip. He saw her expertly bait her hook and adjust her bobber. He marveled at her perfect cast and the extra distance she obtained with a practiced wrist flick. She was an angler.

  “I wanted to fish this afternoon, get some fresh air, catch some fresh dinner in the process. I love to fish, is that a crime? ” Her line pulled. The tip of her rod was pointed towards the water. She waited for a sustained tug on the line or a second strike. She felt both and jerked her line into the air to set the hook.

  “Got one before you even have your line in the water!” She reeled her line. The fish fought, bending her rod over. “It’s not a big one, but it will have some meat on it.”

  She held the fish up for Greg to see. “That’s a nice sized perch.” She commented.

  “So it is.” Greg said. He was enthused by her success, and put jerky on his line.

  She stood looking at Greg, the fish dangling from her line. He cast his jerky out into the water.

  “Greg?”

  “Yes, you have a nice fish, I already said that. How many times do you want to say it? You caught the first fish, okay.”

  “No, um, well, I’ve never kept a fish before. My dad and I would always catch and release. What do I do with it? Just put it in the creel?”

  “Well, well, well, the young woman and the pond doesn’t know how to finish the job.” Greg’s line went tight and he set his hook in the fish’s mouth by pulling his rod tip skyward. “I guess you’ll just have to watch me.” He reeled in a fish, similar in size to Rebecca’s, a bass instead of a perch.

  “We can do two things, put the creel in shallow water and let the fish swim until we leave, or we can crack them on the head with a rock and use the creel for storage. It’s cold out. We don’t have to worry about the fish spoiling, and I doubt we’re going to be here much longer. I’m cold, and they’re biting. If we get four or five fish, we’ll be good for dinner, right?”

  Rebecca listened to Greg’s advice. She was not excited about hitting the fish with a rock or stick. “Can you do my fish at the same time you do yours? Please? I’ll be able to get a line in the water faster.”

  “Sure, and I’ll even wave the Dixon family rule ‘he, or she in this case, who catches, cleans.’”

  “I don’t mind cleaning them, but I don’t know how. If you teach me, I’ll clean the fish next time. I’m not that girly. If the fish are already dead, I’m fine with cleaning them.”

  “You keep catching. I’ll kill and clean them as you reel them in.” Greg pulled out a boning knife he took from a store that morning, and began to clean the fish. He would finish cleaning one as she would catch another. They had four nice sized and one very large fish for dinner. She hooked three smaller fish that she threw back.

  Rebecca pulled a bottle of soap from her pocket. “Let’s wash our hands here, save our water back home. It’s lemon scented soap, should help the fish smell.”

  Greg was accustomed to Rebecca having exactly what they needed. He was not surprised by the lemon scented soap. He washed his hands in the water, cleaning off his knife as well. He picked up the creel and they headed to their house.

  They walked ten paces when they heard a gunshot. It was distant but distinct. A rifle discharged. Rebecca and Greg froze. A second shot fired.

  She looked around nervously.

  “That shot was very far away, three miles, maybe more. If it rang up a valley, and with absolutely no other noise to mask it, it had to be miles away, maybe five.” Greg tried to calm Rebecca.

  “Could it have been thunder? There is a storm coming.” She asked hopefully.

  “You and I know it was a gun, a rifle I think. I don’t hunt, but growing up in the south, I know the sound of a gun. There is definitely someone else alive up here, somewhere.” He was looking around too, trying to figure out the direction of the shot. “Wow, what are the odds?”

  Rebecca stared at Greg. “What should we do?” She was rattled. She was smart, level headed, and brave, but she was also a 13 year old girl, vulnerable to almost any attack from any adult. She knew her weaknesses.

  “We go home and decide if we have any next steps.” He looke
d at her and saw the fear in her eyes. “Hey, come on, it’s no big deal. If two is better than one, then three has to be better than two, right? It’s the first noise we’ve heard since we’ve been here. There can’t be a lot of people, it might even be someone driving through who stopped to kill dinner. Let’s go home, make our own dinner, and figure out if we want to do anything. For all we know right now, the person could be loading a deer onto the hood of their car and be 10 miles south on Highway 91 by the time we get to the house. Remember, Canada is getting colder, as is Maine. People might be moving south for the winter. Who in their right mind would stay in New Hampshire for the winter? Only crazy people, right?”

  He put his arm around her. “We’re team Greg and Rebecca, don’t sweat it.”

  She gave him a weak smile.

  Greg was a big fourteen year old. He was close to 5’ 10” tall, and while thin, his broad shoulders were intimidating to approach without concern. His face betrayed his youth, but his stature relayed a strong male figure. A stranger spying the teen from afar might mistake Greg as a medium sized adult.

  No one would mistake Rebecca’s age.

  When he put his arm around Rebecca, she felt better. She was an average sized 13 year old girl. She was maturing into a young woman, but without Greg she was a target.

  They walked to the house as the sun moved over the mountains to the west. The temperature dropped quickly in the afternoons. Greg spoke as Rebecca’s tongue disappeared for the first time in two weeks. He talked about fishing with his family in South Carolina, saltwater versus fresh water, and his brother Craig’s passion for fishing. Greg tried to take Rebecca’s mind off the unknown rifle shot.

  “I have a surprise for you. I wanted to wait until I could really surprise you, but I think you need a happy surprise right now. Can you go in the kitchen and light the woodstove? I’ll put it together in here. Don’t peak until I call you, okay?” Greg was giddy.

  “What is it?” Rebecca asked, suddenly excited.

  “It’s a surprise. I can’t tell you. Go in the kitchen for a few minutes. Okay?”

  She giggled and went through the door. “Don’t take too long. I want to get out of these clothes and into my pajamas.”

  “Don’t worry.” Greg said as he opened the dining room closet and pulled out the canvas bathtub. He lit the fire in the dining room and placed the bathtub four feet in front of it. The large dining table was in the back left corner with the chairs resting on its top. They were tired of walking around a table and saved it for emergency firewood.

  “Okay, come on out.” He called.

  Rebecca walked through the door with her hands over her eyes. “I have my eyes covered for affect. Should I open them?”

  “Wait, let me walk you over to the surprise.” He grabbed her elbow and led her next to the bathtub. “Okay, now.”

  She opened her eyes and looked down. Her mouth dropped open.

  “Is this what I think it is?”

  “I found it at LL Bean and snuck it out to the van. It’s a bathtub. You solved the potty issue, I solved the bathing issue. We can take baths right next to the fire. How awesome is that? The drain unscrews on the bottom. We’ll figure out how to pump the water out through a window.”

  “Oh my god! Can I go first? Can I go first right now? I feel so dirty. Please? Please?” She jumped up and down.

  “Of course, I’ll make dinner while you take a bath. I’ll stay in the kitchen. Take your time, enjoy it. I’ll go when you are cleaning the kitchen after dinner. Deal?”

  “Anything you want, just let me take a bath. I’ll clean the dishes forever! I promise!”

  They ran a hose from the house next door through a window and into the tub. They filled it half way with the icy water while four pots boiled on the woodstove burners.

  Greg tapped her on the shoulder as she watched the pots warm. “One more surprise.” He handed her a bottle of lilac scented bath gel. “There was a shop in the mall. I thought you might like this.”

  She looked at the bottle and then up at him. She was touched and began to cry. Rebecca rarely showed emotion. She looked back down at the bottle, and after a pause she thanked him.

  “Through all the death and horror came a person as genuine and thoughtful as you.” She said quietly. “Thank you, Greg. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Rebecca lifted her head to look him in the eyes. She stood onto her tippy toes and kissed him gently on the cheek. She closed her eyes as she kissed him. It was the first time Rebecca kissed a boy.

  “Don’t let it go to my head. You’ve saved my life. I’m glad I can make you smile. Let’s get that water warm so you can take a bath.”

  Rebecca stayed in the tub for almost a half hour. Greg made his fish, waiting to bake hers until she was out of the tub. At the 20 minute mark she asked him to boil another pot of water so she could warm the bath.

  She washed her hair and soaked in front of the fire.

  When she was done, dried off, and in her pajamas, she walked into the kitchen. “Sorry I missed dinner. Wait until you get in there. It’s incredible. It makes you feel like you’re normal again. Really, you feel normal.”

  “Well, the rice is kind of warm instead of hot. I cooked your fish in the oven when you called out that you were getting out of the tub. Watch out for bones. There are a million of them.” He put a plate in front of her with rice, fish, and warmed canned peas.

  “Veggies? You’re making me eat veggies?”

  “We’ve got to keep up our strength. Peas are good for you.” He spun around to leave the kitchen. “I’m out! Don’t bother me for at least 20 minutes. I’m going to smell like a beautiful lilac when I’m done!” He ran out of the kitchen, coming back a minute later in his new flannel robe. He grabbed a boiling pot off the stove and went into the bathing room to warm the water.

  Rebecca heard him slip into the tub. She picked up her food and walked into the other room. Greg pulled his knees to his chest to cover himself.

  “Hey! What are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not looking, much. I’m going to eat at the table with my back to you. Let’s talk about the gunshot.”

  “I didn’t bother you.” He whined.

  “Oh come on, you’re a guy. You can lean back and enjoy yourself while talking to me, can’t you?” She pulled a chair off the table and sat with her back to him.

  She began. “I believe we have three options. Ignore it like it never happened, actively seek the person or people, or passively seek them with a signal fire.”

  “I like the last option.” She said after a pause. “Being proactive is our best approach, but trying to find them is a waste of gas and time.” Rebecca was serious in her tone.

  “If a giant, mean looking person comes out of the woods and up to our fire with guns and knives, we make a decision. If a child comes out, we make a different decision, but lighting a fire and luring the person here gives us options. We control the encounter.” Greg had a feeling his input was not necessary.

  “Let’s light it tomorrow morning.” She concluded before turning to lighter conversation. Rebecca talked about how fun it was the fish again, how her dad had taken her on weekends when he could get away from the store. When she was finished with her dinner, she got up and averted her eyes for her walk back into the kitchen.

  Greg enjoyed his soak. He stepped on the towel Rebecca left for him next to the tub. He dried off and slipped his robe back on. He looked down at the dark gray water filled with dirt and grime. “Man did I need that for both my body and soul.”

  He put his pajamas on and pulled out one of the board games they found at the mall. When Rebecca came out of the kitchen, she sat down. They spent the rest of the evening trash talking, laughing, and having fun. It was a rewarding end to a long day of work. They fell asleep in their twin beds within seconds of hitting the pillow.

  The morning sun brought a new day of challenges. As planned, they built a fired in the middle of the college Green. Greg used wet le
aves to create smoke, a trick he saw on a survival show. The fire sent thick black smoke high into the air.

  They watched from the corner office of a nearby college administration buildings. The office had a fireplace they used to keep warm while the waited.

  Greg and Rebecca lit a signal fire for three consecutive days.

  22

  Paul and Hank were socked in for days. The sun shined briefly the first morning they spent at the Rutland hotel, but the clouds rolled in later in the day and snow began to fall. It snowed for two more days. Three feet fell before the storm was over. The front steps were gone as the snow drifted above the porch landing.

  They stomped a path to the wood pile, stayed in the hotel, and debated their next steps.

  The winds blew drifts and the temperature outside settled into the low twenties during the day and single digits at night. Hank studied the phone book and the local area maps. Paul discovered a hotel cribbage board, a backgammon board, and dozens of puzzles. The Inn had a mystery library in the lobby with a small sign that read “free for guests, please return before departure.”

  Paul and Hank were stuck. They did not know for how long, but they assumed they would be in the Rutland Inn for a while. Despite the situation, they considered themselves lucky to have provisions to last them through the entire winter, water (thanks to the snow), fuel, and companionship.

  The Inn’s Honeymoon Suite was a large room on the second floor with a fireplace and a hot tub. Paul and Hank heated the room at least once a week to bathe. Paul unpacked his solar shower which they filled with warm water in the kitchen before hanging it above the Suite’s tub.

  They found clothes in the Inn’s lost and found and the owner’s quarters, and made themselves as comfortable as possible.

  The snow was so high that even if they found snowmobiles, they could not find the road. Neither Paul nor Hank knew the area well enough to risk going over a mountain in deep snow and sub-freezing temperatures.

  Their second week at the hotel brought Christmas. They did not exchange gifts, but they did make a feast from the gourmet pantry. Despite the uneven and high cooking temps of their woodstove, Paul was able to bake a small chocolate Buche de Noel.