The Living Hunger

by Dennis F. Larsen

  With better weather following the events that brought the two communities together, The Ward began to expand their search patterns and hunting grounds. Rod and Kirk had been appointed as the resident Game Wardens, and they sought new opportunities and locations for wild game to supplement their need for fresh liver. They were also responsible for a program designed to expand and grow their fledgling domestic animal coop. Gratefully, the animals in question, particularly pigs and cattle, were not having the same difficulty reproducing but finding live animals, free from disease, was an extraordinary challenge.

  Additionally, Roger and Clark had been partnered to expand the search area where they collected items of value. Everything was considered, but weapons, hard currency (gold, silver and gemstones), and consumables were of highest priority. In large, roving parties, the members of The Ward worked late into the summer nights, going house to house in search of such items. A select few also collected materials of an historical nature, both family and community, which one day would be important to the world and the next generation. Their progress was measured by the vast stores of items that they proudly housed in additional buildings on campus, which fell under the responsibilities of C&C.

  The two young men might as well have been lashed together at the hip since Cory’s close call with death. Clayton assumed some of the responsibility for not being there when his buddy needed him most. The governing council determined that they would be perfect candidates to bring additional buildings within the secure zone of the compound. Much of the summer was spent relocating the fencing and encompassing additional housing, storage and educational facilities. They enjoyed the work and the time they got to spend together being industrious. Neither was scared of hard work and the labor honed their characters and refined their leadership abilities.

  Bishop Freeman’s flock had grown as more and more people were reaching for something beyond what their temporal existence could provide. The loss of almost everyone and everything that was once important to them set their sights a little higher. Many of The Alamo’s residents were seeking a greater understanding about life’s purpose, which pushed them to their knees in search of answers. For some, the brush with death had taught a valuable lesson of the fragile nature of their mortality, which would not soon be forgotten. Farrell had even been attending Sunday services as Elva’s health permitted, cigarettes and alcohol a thing of the past for the rough Sergeant. He would do anything for the mother of his unborn child, sacrificing and changing to be a better husband and future father.

  Colonel Bubley and Sergeant Jensen shared the responsibilities over the group’s security. Boyd was resolved to having a younger, better-looking second-in-command and Farrell was content to act as a second, enjoying the time it gave him to be with Elva. The Ward had been fortunate over the past several months, avoiding armed conflict with any of their neighbors or wandering bands. The Alamo had gained some reputation as a fortified, well-guarded fortress, stocked with provisions in excess. To date this had not brought any danger to their doorstep but the security personnel knew it was only a matter of time. In the near future, less organized groups would eventually deplete their resources and want an outside source to supplement them by trade or force; many would be amenable to either means.

  The tightly knit group of security leaders tried to look into the future to understand what would be needed to keep the residents of Cache Valley safe and prosperous. Shortly after the deaths of David and others, the weaknesses brought to light by the skilled assassin were rectified. Outlying defense posts, located at the extreme edges of the city, were redesigned to include towers where guards would have the advantage in a firefight, as well as increased safety from direct fire. Concrete blocks were moved into place in a staggered formation, preventing charging vehicles from breaking through the secure points. Each sentry post had previously had trailers equipped to furnish some comforts for the security people; these were moved away from the checkpoints but within easy walking distance. They surrounded the trailers with sandbags and predetermined firing stations, providing a fallback position, should they require it. Once completed, Boyd said they looked like they had been lifted from Vietnam and dropped in Northern Utah.

  Near the campus several modifications had been implemented as well. Between the large iron fence that surrounded the southwest portion of the secured perimeter and Old Main, a trench was dug, much like the defenders had seen in old World War I movies. The gully was wide enough to run down at a crouch, but not deep enough to stand in without exposing the upper half of one’s body. Every 25 feet a firing portal was dug into the dense clay of the hillside, providing a spot where defenders could leverage their arms against any attacking foes. Additional firing positions had been established around the compound, but only after line-of-sight had been determined and every possible angle considered. These positions and rooms were stocked with more firepower than they conceivably would ever need, but Farrell liked the idea of overkill.

  All in all, the members of The Ward had settled into a routine of survival that was somewhat comfortable, if nothing else. A sense of security had settled over the little community but for how long was the question that no one dared speak. The mere mention of it seemed like it might jinx the fortunate string of good providence they’d enjoyed since the madman, Solomon, had disrupted their way of life.

  Chapter 45

  A trickle of morning sunlight was already adding warmth to the couple’s new room, located on the upper floor of the science building. The change and extra square footage had been a welcome relief from the small bookstore space they’d used since joining The Ward. In anticipation of bringing a newborn ‘home’, Farrell had made special arrangements, providing a quiet, out-of-the-way spot where a crying child would not disturb the neighbors and the two could enjoy some privacy. As a surprise, the soon to be father had plastered and painted for days on the sly. The look of delight on Elva’s face had made the late nights and white lies worth the effort and the two had settled into their new home quickly and comfortably.

  Elva stood next to an elegant, white-laced bassinet that Farrell had found, after much searching. He approached her from behind, wrapping his big arms around her tiny frame, pulling her close to him. His mouth found her earlobe and he nuzzled it gently as she leaned her head back against his chest. Her hands went, as they often did these days, to her rounded belly, lightly rubbing over the fabric that covered the taut skin. “You okay this morning?” Farrell asked.

  “Mmhmm, fine. I’m just a little tired. Doesn’t seem that I have enough energy to do anything these past few weeks.”

  Farrell stood a little taller, kissed the top of her head and asked, “Just part of being pregnant?”

  “That’s what Momma would’ve said. I’ve missed her so much lately. If it weren’t for Allison I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “I know. Allison’s been great but we sure could use your mom’s experience and advice. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of little Len and your mom,” Farrell assured her.

  “They loved you so much, and Len wanted, more than anything, to be just like you. I still can’t believe they’re gone - my whole family taken so quickly.” Elva lifted her petite hand to her cheek, wiping away a trail of fresh tears. She’d shed so many lately, it surprised her there were any left to flow.

  “Why is it you keep losing weight while the other pregnant ladies are all gaining? Worries me, more than you know.”

  “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. I’m still walking and Remy says I’m doing fine, but I sure wish Mel was here.”

  “You and me, both,” the large man agreed, elevating himself completely and taking her shoulders in his hands. “Rod wants me to go deer hunting with him today.”

  “You should go. Really, I want you to go. Rod has been after you for weeks to spend a day hunting with him, and there’s no good reason why you shouldn’t.” Elva encouraged her husband, after he’d already decided that he wouldn’t go, not with the d
elivery date so close. She sensed the hesitation without him having to say a word. “I’ll be fine! I’m not due for a few weeks and I’ve not had any labor pains. Remy says I’ll probably go full term. The baby’s heartbeat is strong and there’s nothing really to worry about. Our baby boy will be here soon and he’s going to be as strong as his father.”

  “Boy huh? You sure about that?” Farrell asked, unable to hold back the smile that splashed across his face each time he thought of having a son.

  “Yup, pretty sure. Don’t know why, but something keeps telling me it’s a boy and his name is Jeffrey.”

  “Oh, is that so? Do I get any say in that or have you got that written in stone?”

  “No, you can come up with whatever middle name you want but I want the first to be Jeffrey. It was my dad’s middle name and I want him to have something that belonged to him.”

  “Then Jeff it is. It is okay if I call him Jeff, right?” the beaming Sergeant asked.

  “Certainly, now back to this hunting trip, or outing, or whatever you boys call it. I want you to go. May be the last chance you have to do something fun for a while. Once our baby gets here and winter hits, you’ll be pinned down to the compound more than you’ll like. Go with Clark and Rod and enjoy yourself. Heaven only knows you deserve it. You’ve been putting in 18-hour days for weeks without a break. All work and no play makes Farrell a pretty grumpy butt.”

  “What? What do you mean, a ‘grumpy butt’? I’ve maybe been a little on edge but it hasn’t . . . ”

  “Oh yes it has and yes you have, so go on, stretch your legs, do whatever it is you boys do on these little escapes and come back the cheerful man I married,” Elva insisted, pointing him toward the door.

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve got Allison and Remy fussing over me like a couple of old hens. I’m in good hands.”

  “Alright, but we won’t be long. Rod wants to see what kind of game we can find up Sardine Canyon. We’ve about hunted out the hills to the east, at least as much as we dare. Don’t want to wipe out the population but we haven’t done anything to the south or southwest.”

  “Isn’t that awfully close to the area that Bullock controls?” she asked, the first sign of concern crossing her innocent face.

  “It’s close enough that we’ll be careful but we can’t avoid it forever. Clark and Roger drove to the summit a few days ago and saw no sign of anyone and we won’t go that far just to hunt.”

  “Be careful and bring me back a trophy.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Farrell said, gathering up his hunting gear before he kissed Elva goodbye, rubbing her oversized belly in the process.

  “Look at that,” Clark said, as he saw Farrell coming to join them. “Rod, you owe me two eggs.”

  “Two eggs?” the big man asked, as he tossed his things into the bed of the pickup.

  “Yeah, your brother didn’t think there’d be any way Elva would let you come with us,” Clark said. “I can taste ‘em now, Rod. Fresh eggs will go very nicely with some venison liver we bring home today.”

  “Whatever. That one chicken of ours pumps out eggs like there’s no tomorrow. I think someone is secretly giving her steroids or something, but I’m not complaining. Wish we had a dozen more just like her,” Rod said, swinging the stock of his rifle up, pretending to hit his friend between the legs. “Whoa, stay alert there Clark,” he said, laughing as he saw him jump away.

  Farrell had grown to love the men of The Alamo. It was a brotherhood of those who loved life, freedom and work. Not the kind of labor they’d known prior to the war, putting in eight hours at whatever it was you were trained to do, but working to make a better place, a new world; each sacrificing everything for the betterment of all. Selfishness had no place in their newly founded society but laziness did not either. Everyone pitched in and did what they could. Some were more capable than others, but for the most part, everyone wanted their community to survive and thrive. Disagreements with workable solutions and agreeable outcomes were more the norm than the exception; a panel of everyone’s peers helped to oversee such dilemmas, and every member of The Ward served on the panel for a period of time. The group strived earnestly to keep the workings of the community fair and just, and in large part the people of Cache Valley were a happy lot. They were learning to love life and one another, even considering the difficult hand they’d been dealt.

  Rod had sprung back surprisingly well from the life threatening injuries he’d sustained during the Battle for Bear River. He’d never fully put back the muscle that had once made him such a formidable wrestler, but each day the strength was coming and he was quick with a smile or a compliment to lift one’s spirits. Rod was loved and appreciated by everyone. The goodness that flowed from him was an example to all but mostly Allison, who often recalled that harrowing day and what she perceived as divine intervention on their behalf. They were happy to be alive, their brush with death giving them a unique perspective on life.

  Since the Battle for Bear River, the Jenson brothers had been closer than ever, spending time talking about the things that really mattered; family and friends and forever. Many a night the two young couples had sat around a fire pit toasting six-year-old marshmallows and talking about the past and what they envisioned for the future, their goals so often hand-in-hand with one another’s. A refiner’s fire had melded their hearts and souls together, forming a union that would help them face the adversities that were sure to come.

  “So what’s the plan, Kimosabe?” Clark asked Farrell, as they loaded up the items they’d need for the day’s hunt.

  “Don’t ask me. I’m just along for the ride. I believe Rod’s in charge of this little expedition,” Farrell replied.

  “Okay Rod, what are you thinking?” Clark redirected his earlier question.

  Rod slid the ball cap from his rounded skull and ran his hand through the brush cut, short and stiff. “I hate to say it, but I think we better try Sardine. We haven’t done anything up there due to Bullock but the few times we’ve driven up there, we’ve not seen any sign of them. What do you think, Farrell?”

  “I don’t think we have a choice. It’s something that we’ll have to explore at some point. Might as well be today while there are a few more of us going. Where’s Roger? He’s coming isn’t he?” Sarge confirmed.

  “Last I talked to him, he was,” Clark said. He quickly followed with, “Oh, speak of the devil. Here he comes.” They looked to see their older friend jogging toward them, his arms and hands filled with his hunting gear.

  “Sorry, I’m late guys -- overslept,” Roger apologized, while nodding his head to each of the crew.

  “You mean, overslept again,” Rod pointed out, pumping a soft elbow into Roger’s side in a somewhat manly tease. “You getting so old that you can’t get your butt out of bed in the morning?”

  “I’m afraid that’s it. Last week I hurt myself twice just sitting on the side of the bed and trying to pull my socks and pants on. I’m slowing down but I’ll still take the biggest buck today,” Roger said, winking at the rest.

  “The hell you say,” Farrell jumped in, offering his take on how the day would go down. “Let’s make this interesting. Biggest buck is king for a day - losers have to answer to his beck and call for a full 24 hours. You all in?”

  Each of the men standing in the small semi-circle expressed their agreement to the challenge, with a bit of bravado thrown in for good measure. “We gonna need our assault rifles and radio today?” Rod asked, not speaking to anyone in particular but throwing the question out to the party.

  “Oh, we should be okay with our hunting rifles and it looks like Clark’s got his Mini-14. Between the four of us, if we get into trouble, we’ll be able to light things up without having to pack the extra hardware. Let’s pretend, for a day, that we’re just four buddies off for a hunt and that no one is hunting us,” Farrell expressed, noting the relief that seemed to cross each of the friend’s face
s. “As far as the radio is concerned, the one in my truck should suffice. Once we get up into Sardine the handhelds will be useless anyway. Clark, remind me when we get back that we need to source some equipment with more range.”

  “Sure Farrell. Okay then, let’s load it up and move it out,” Clark said, in his best western drawl.

  The hunting party drove off, two per pickup, winding their way through town before hitting the highway that took them south and into the green rolling hills of the Wasatch Mountain Range. Well into the canyon they pulled off the road and into the parking lot of an overgrown and hardly recognizable golf course, once the playground of many a golfer and the local wildlife, as well. The drive had been beautiful; a warm sunny day illuminated the foliage and renewed growth from the region’s abundant rains. Farrell and Rod spoke little, taking the time to admire the sights around them, until Rod mentioned the dream he’d had months before when he was knocking on death’s door. He’d thought of it often but never broached the subject with his older brother. Farrell was a spiritual man in his own way, not churchy, as some would say, but he had a connection with God that Rod was never quite sure how to approach.

  “This might sound crazy but I saw Dad and Shirt.”

  “What do you mean, you saw them?” Farrell asked, taking his eyes off the road long enough to look at his little brother.

  “It was weird, but so very real. I can’t help but think that it really happened. I told Allison and she agrees but I’m afraid she’s just trying to make me feel better, but I needed you to know.”

  Farrell shifted his position in the driver’s seat, the topic making him slightly uncomfortable. “Well, tell me about it. Did you just see them or did you talk to them?”

  “If it was a dream, it was the most vibrant, realistic dream I’ve ever had. I’d just stepped out the back door of the old house and was standing on the porch looking out over the field, there to the west. Do you remember what that looked like when it was covered with beautiful green plants, just shining in the sun, all glossy and waxy looking?”