The Provider

by John Hunt

  It was warmer in the sheltered waters of Turnagain Arm than out of them; must’ve been about 60 degrees F. We washed, scrubbed, and changed. I wished Jessie was here, though she wouldn’t have appreciated the concrete bed. I was shaping words in my head for her, trying to put the day’s images and the screeching of the gulls out of my mind, when I crashed out.

  TWENTY-SIX

  We got to Potter’s Place early, but everyone was up. Jessie and I held each other for a while.

  “You’re OK?”

  “It was horrible, Jessie,” I muttered. “Like one of those zombie films. A nightmare, times ten. We’re on our own here.”

  “We’ve got each other,” she whispered. “You kept your promise to come back. I’m going to hold you to that, always, you understand?” She stepped a little away from me, her blue eyes searching my face intently. “Sometimes I struggle to get through to you, I want to make myself clear.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure what I could do about it, other than not go anywhere, but I got the message. It felt weird; parents you could take for granted, it was blood, you knew they’d always be there for you. At least for most kids. But to have someone else feel that way about you, it was different. I couldn’t quite get my head around it. We weren’t family, so what was the connection? What turned friendship into blood ties? Was it the sex, creating new life? Was I really ready for that?

  “Now, there’s a lot to talk about,” Dad said. “Matthew, would love one of those oatcakes, and then let’s discuss where to go from here. I think we all need to be part of this.”

  We spent the morning on it, explaining what we’d seen, answering questions. Jessie was sitting next to me, her body against mine, it was a strange, thrilling feeling, having someone that close. Someone who would just sit by me, because she liked me, loved me. We were barely touching, but it was like there was electricity between us. She took my hand.

  “All those people dead!” Sue cried. “Will that happen to us?”

  “No, it won’t, Sue. We’ll make sure it won’t,” Mom replied. “So long as we all have each other, we’ll be OK.” She smiled but her voice was determined. “I only watch films with happy endings, and we’ll make it turn out that way.”

  “Sue, there’s no way of hiding this from you, the world has changed,” Dad added. “But we’re going to make things work. We’re in a good position here. We can do it, if we stick together. OK?”

  “What about my friends?” asked Bess, looking pale. “Do you think they’re all dead?”

  “I’m sure they got out in time with their families, Bess dear,” Mom replied.

  “Maybe we should have made more of an effort to bring people with us, Bess,” Dad added. “I’m sorry we didn’t. It was hard enough to bring you along. But they’ll be finding their own way somewhere.”

  “But how did cholera kill the ones you saw?” Jessie asked.

  “Cholera can kill you in a few hours,” Mom replied. “The only cure is rehydration, fast, but then, if you haven’t got clean water to drink…a lot of people would have died quickly, and it’s very infectious. And then with the lack of hygiene…It probably spread like wildfire, and the people upped and left to get away from it. I’m sure that’s what happened.”

  “But couldn’t they have taken a vaccine for it?” Matthew queried. “There surely must’ve been things that could’ve been done.”

  “Too late once you’ve already got it.” Mom sighed. “Besides, in a place like Anchorage, where there hasn’t been any cholera, they wouldn’t have had many vaccines. And if you can’t freeze them they’ve only got a few weeks of shelf life anyway.”

  “Some things could’ve been done if law and order hadn’t broken down.” Dad rubbed his hands over his face. “But then that’s why we left. Cholera or not, I guess everyone would’ve had to get out of Anchorage anyway. For the record, Bob, we’re all in your debt.”

  “No worries.” He shrugged.

  Sue had tears rolling down her cheeks. Matthew took her onto his lap.

  “We’ve said before that we’re grateful, Donald, but this puts it up to another level altogether.”

  “Thanks, Matthew. Anyway, the gut issue is what we do now. Let’s sweat this. It looks like we’re going to be here a while. Doesn’t look like there’s any help coming. As I see it, we’ve got four main things to be concerned about. First is getting enough food for the winter. Second is the threat from other people, then there’s the wild animals, especially the dogs. I don’t know about this stuff. I don’t know how to even start thinking about it.”

  “Bob, Jessie and me can deal with the food, with your help on the foraging,” I replied. “People – there are nine of us, we all learn to handle a gun. Even Sue. We’ll have this place bristling like a porcupine. We fortify it.”

  “Jim’s right,” said Bob. Bears and wolves aren’t usually a threat, even in the winter. But then we’re a fair way out here. This place would usually be shut up out of season.” He stood up and collected one of the guns we’d brought back from Anchorage.

  “This is a Remington 870 shotgun, 12-gauge. Best thing for stopping bear. We’ll keep it ready by the door here, and I’ll show you all how to use it. But the dogs, they’re more dangerous at the moment. They’ll get desperate as the weather draws in. I guess they’ve been living off dead bodies so far, but they’re going to rot down before the snow arrives. We’re cooking fish, meat – any animal within ten miles is going to smell us here.

  Dad came to a decision. “OK, we fence ourselves off, and build an extension. We need a bigger fireplace. Or another cabin. And another for Jim and Jessie.”

  “Should we find a larger place?” asked Matthew.

  “There’s nothing that looks as promising as this, and it would take too long.” Bob looked up from the map. “The weather’s changing, we’ve got maybe a couple of months before the winter sets in. What do you think, Mary?”

  Mom nodded. “If we’re going to stay here, then we need to get prepared. Nine people are a lot to feed, clothe and keep clean. We’ll all need to help.” She looked around.

  Dad stood up and paced the room. “First thing’s the fence. I don’t like the idea of those dog packs.”

  “Could we make an electric one?” I asked.

  “We’d need to adapt a generator, we don’t have the time for it,” Dad replied. “And it would take a lot of fuel. Or we could get a wind turbine, but I haven’t seen any around here. We’ll have to do it the old fashioned way.”

  “What do we use for building?” asked Matthew.

  “We drive down to one of those lodges nearer the road, pull it down, use that, it’ll be easier than trying to pull down your place, Matthew, which is mostly stone,” he finished.

  “But, but we can’t just pull down someone else’s property!” Mom exclaimed.

  “If you’d seen Anchorage, Mary,” Dad replied, “that’s the last thing you’d worry about. The whole place has gone. Nobody’s going to worry about the odd cabin. Hell, if we need to, we’ll just pay to get it rebuilt. No one’s going to complain when it’s a question of survival, when all this is over. If this is ever over. If the owners are still alive. If there’s still such a thing as money. Will there still be banks, insurance companies? Will our savings still be there? Will it matter? Is there going to be anything left at all? I don’t know. I wish I’d read that Swiss Family Robinson earlier. Should have got more prepared. We haven’t done enough.”

  Dad looked defeated. Even Mom and Louise were despondent.

  We sat in gloomy silence.

  “It seems like an imposition on you,” Matthew said unhappily. “I don’t know how we’re going to repay this.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Bob said, “but I’ve got to be blunt here. I don’t think we’ll all get through this.”

  “Are you saying we’re going to die?” Bess was still looking white.

  “Just that there are too many people needing support here.”

  Jessie reached out and held B
essie’s hands. “We’ll get through this, Bess. It’s just going to be different. It’ll just be us. We don’t need Facebook – that was a dream.”

  Bess fired up angrily. “I think Bob is suggesting that some of us are a waste of space, and should go kill ourselves.”

  “Well,” Bob said matter-of-factly, “that’s not a bad idea, come to think of it.”

  There was a storm of protest. I looked for the twinkle in Bob’s eye, but there wasn’t one.

  “Look,” he said, “Jim can look after himself. Nearly. The rest of you are walking KFCs.”

  “Bob, you’re a horrible man,” Sue shouted.

  “If you honestly think that, Bob, maybe you really should leave us, strike out on your own,” Dad said quietly.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  I felt more conflicting emotions than I’d ever had before. I knew Bob, at one level, was right. But I hated what he was saying.

  “Bob,” I said, “we can do it. It’s one winter.”

  “And then another one,” he replied. “And another one, most likely. And more after that.”

  “There are plenty of people in Alaska living off grid though, Bob,” Louise replied.

  “Yes, but they used to have enough supplies, and fuel, generators, snow machines. They could get more supplies. They could call in a doctor, or a plane – there are thousands of them in this country. That’s how it used to run. We’re talking about something different here, a load of greenhorns, without support, who haven’t been through a winter before. I haven’t even done it myself. It’s not going to be the same as in Anchorage. This has been a walk in the park so far.”

  There was a moment’s silence, and then Jessie stood up. “Adults,” she said, scornfully. “They get us into this mess, and then they give up. Bess, we’re going to change this, are you with me?”

  Bess looked up, her eyes brightening. “Sure thing, Jess.”

  Jessie walked over to the door and picked up a rifle, cocked it, and pointed it at Bob.

  “Bob, you leave when we say you can. We’re going to make this work.”

  Everyone’s mouths had dropped open. Bob was looking at Jessie, astonished, and then he started laughing. He laughed till there were tears streaming down his face. “My, you’re a one, you’re the real thing, aren’t you?”

  Dad frowned. “Jessie, that’s not the way. Stop pointing that gun. Bob, I know you don’t need us, like we need you, but I’m just praying we can work this out. I think of us all here as one family now. And if we all totally commit to what needs doing to survive this, would you stay? Show us how?”

  Bob’s laughter slowed. He nodded. “Look, if we’re all family, I’m in. And Jess is right. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. All this – it’s no surprise. It’s been headed this way since the electricity went off. We can give up and cry over it, or we can get to work and do something about it. Which is it to be?”

  Dad squared his shoulders. “You’re right, Bob, sorry. We’ll make this work. We’re still all together, that’s the main thing. And the rate Jim and Jessie are going, we’re getting to be one family anyway. We’ve got over a month till the snows come. We can get prepared to see the winter out. With nine of us pulling together, we can do it.”

  He put some cheer into his voice. “Let’s break for this morning. We all make notes on the things that need to be done in the next couple of months. We’ll meet this evening, draw up lists of what needs doing, sort them, figure out who does what.”

  “But we’re not going to be here forever, are we?” asked Mom. “You surely don’t mean that?”

  “I’ve no idea, Mary. But even to get through this winter, we have to do this stuff. Next year, we can think again. Depends on what’s happening outside.”

  “I don’t mind being here forever,” piped up Sue, as she snuggled up to Mom. “I like it here. Except for the horrible mosquitos.”

  “Bless you, Sue,” said Mom, as she wiped a smudge from her cheek.

  “I think we should do one more trip tomorrow,” Dad added. “Go down to Whittier. It’s only a few hours away. See if it’s as bad as Anchorage. There are only a couple of hundred people there, mostly living in one building, from what I remember reading. I haven’t been before. Maybe they’ve been OK. Not so many to feed and water, lots of boats for fishing. I don’t think we can spend the next six months trying to figure out what might happen without making an effort to contact neighbors. It’s worth a chance.”

  “There’s a three mile single lane through the tunnel,” said Bob. “They might’ve closed it.”

  “We’ll find out,” replied Dad. “If so, we’ll only have lost a day.”

  “I’ll get some water on for a drink.” Louise got up. “I’d just like to say, Donald, that these kind of things have happened before. Communities, societies, civilizations have been destroyed. They’ve recovered, been rebuilt. I’m sure we can do it again, and I feel privileged to be a part of this.”

  “Thanks, Louise,” Dad replied. “Here, let’s shake on it, all of us.” He put his hand on the table. Mom was the first to add hers. Everyone else followed. Dad put his other hand down on top of all of them.

  “I’ve never been a religious man, as you know,” he said. “But I promise, now, before God, if He’s there, that I’ll do my best to get us all through this safely.”

  Later that evening, Jessie and I were on the porch. The sun was below the hills, the sky shading from light blue through azure, violet, purple, indigo to black directly above. I could see the Pole star. The Milky Way was starting to take shape, brighter than I’d ever seen it before.

  Jessie twined her fingers in mine. “That was quite something back there. Bob’s tough, isn’t he?”

  “Not as tough as you, though. I guess he knows what needs to be done. Wish I did.”

  “Are you giving up as well?” Jessie pecked my cheek.

  “Me? No…I just wasn’t sure what to say. But I’m glad we’re more like family. I’ve always thought of Bob as another Dad anyway. And I thought you were brilliant.”

  “So if we’re family, am I your sister or your lover?”

  She leaned over and licked my ear.

  “You can be anything you want with me, Jessie.”

  “I want you, Jim…now.”

  “J…Jessie,” I stammered. “Are you a virgin?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’ve slept with a couple of boyfriends. But I’m not one of Bob’s Alaskan chicks either. It’s been a long time without sex.” She gave me a hard look. “Do you mind? Are you getting cold feet?”

  “Hell, no, feels like it makes it easier for me.”

  She took my hand and put it on her breast. Under my palm, I felt her nipple hardening. She gasped slightly, her tongue moving over her pearly teeth, licking her upper lip.

  “Come then,” she said huskily, pulling me up. We took a couple of blankets and walked to the trees. We spread them over the soft pine needles and lay down.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The next morning the sun was still below the mountain when we all woke. We all had a hug first, and it occurred to me suddenly, how easily and wholeheartedly I could do that now. Last night had freed something up in me. Matthew handed over some sourdough sandwiches, Jessie and me kissed; Dad, Bob and I set off as the others went back to bed.

  “This is an ancient trail,” Dad said as he turned onto tarmac, an hour later. “Whittier’s about twenty miles along here. Natives have been using it for thousands of years as a short cut between Port William Sound and Turnagain Arm, carrying their canoes. The trappers did the same, then the gold miners, that’s why it’s called the Portage Glacier Road. We’ll go extra slow through the tunnel, use our flashlights to see the way. It might be blocked.”

  The river was running low, tumbling over the rocks. The steep sided valley was covered in spruce, aspen and birch, topped with glaciers, glittering in the sun. When we got to the tunnel, it was creepy. We crawled slowly along. After half an hour we could see a spot
of light in the far distance, and eventually exited into bright sunshine, driving slowly, carefully, rifles at the ready. The town was nestled in at the head of the bay, surrounded by mountains and glaciers, dazzling and sparkling.

  “Welcome to Whittier, pop: 231,” Dad quoted the sign. “Anyone here?” he called, glancing around. “Looks deserted,” he muttered. “There are some fishing boats there in the harbor, but most seem to have gone. And where are the people? Let’s go into Begich Towers, that’s where everyone used to live.”

  I walked through the open doors into the large foyer and called out, but there was no answer. It was like a ghost town. My heart sank, remembering Anchorage.

  Outside, Bob fired his rifle into the air. The gunshot ricocheted around the surrounding mountains, prompting a flock of gulls in the harbor to take screaming flight.

  “At least there’re no scavengers around here,” he said, as the echoes died.

  “Disappointing,” said Dad. “I was hoping we’d find people here. Where the hell have they gone? But you’re right. At least there don’t seem to be any bodies around, and no rats. We should see if there’s anything left lying around that we could use. Let’s start with the harbor.” We were walking down when a voice called out behind us; “Just hold it right there folks, I’ve got you covered. Put your guns down.”

  “Damn, do as he says,” Dad muttered.

  We turned slowly around. A bearded old man was walking out of The Anchor Inn Hotel, carrying a double barreled shotgun. He looked like the picture on the fish fingers packets; a broad, round, ruddy face, tobacco-stained white beard and sideburns, stocky build. “Who are you, and what do you want? Don’t try anything, I can get you all with these barrels.”