Back To Our Beginning

by C. L. Scholey

  The bonfires they built below for light only needed large logs draped across the flames. The smoke filtered is way out through the few holes and cracks left open within the mine. These had been unreachable, but only very tiny nonthreatening flying birds could gain entry. Few birds ventured within after their eggs had been confiscated and their nests recovered for useful dry tinder. It became apparent early their smoky fires also kept bats away.

  “Yes, but who knows if a storm will blow up, and if we run out of fuel what will we do if we’re trapped inside?” Tansy said. “We were all so terribly cold last winter. I almost died of hypothermia once. If Clint hadn’t come looking for me, if he hadn’t helped me...”

  Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture in understanding. Her fear was apparent and at her disclosure he no longer wondered why she seemed so agitated. The experience had obviously caused a degree of psychological damage. He remembered hearing from Shanie it was at that time two of their friends had perished and from Emmy he had learned Tansy blamed herself for the tragedy. He wondered if Tansy was even aware what her real agitation was, though he doubted it.

  “Jist what are you two up to?” Clint asked, joining them.

  “Tansy is concerned we might exhaust the wood supply,” Ethan explained a touch cryptically.

  “Well, we don’t work it none,” Clint exclaimed.

  “Oh God,” Ethan said exasperated and walked away.

  “I was jist kiddin’,” Clint called after him and grinned.

  Tansy wandered off to the next tunnel. Though smaller it was filling rapidly with supplies. Shelves lined the sides of the walls. They had been lucky at finding cellars and were able to salvage a few preserves. Tansy had rejoiced at finding even the empty jars. She’d already tried her hand at preserving plums and peaches, as well as making grape juice from the vines they found. It was tedious and like every other job she now had time-consuming.

  The jars had to be boiled in hot water in one pot while the fruit boiled in another. She then had to fill the jars while still piping hot. She had become sweaty and needed numerous breaks to cool off at the stream. Working over the boiling fruit and water in the grueling heat without the aid of fans or air-conditioning or even a gentle breeze proved painful, and she had developed a severe headache. It would be worth the effort, she reasoned, in the colder months.

  Tansy was also coveting six jars of jam they found. She told the others they would be opened in the winter months when scurvy would be most threatening and fruit too difficult to find.

  Tansy was also looking forward to retrieving the wax seals on the jam jars. If she melted them down, they could be used as small candles. She found that while you could use animal fat in the lanterns it smelled bad or went rancid, attracting bugs. They also needed to improvise wicks. That wasn’t as difficult, Clint found canvas that could be cut up into thick strips, coiled tightly and coated on the sides in tree pitch from certain evergreens. Canvas was placed at the opening at the bottom of the mine along with two big tarps to cover the hole. An aboveground pool liner had also been effective against the wet weather and was draped across the top front opening of the mine over their door structures to keep out excess moisture during the numerous torrential downpours. They decided two entrances to the mine were enough and safest, and spent many a grueling day sealing one of the mines openings at the top of the mine and the smaller one off to the side.

  Aidan and Ethan had returned after an outing excitedly with a wheelbarrow carrying a few bags of cement found in a stone cavity of a destroyed barn. The wheelbarrow had been difficult to maneuver over debris and through the dense woods, but it was worth the effort, coming in handy for mixing the cement. Along with clay, rocks and mud placed between huge logs helped seal up the entrances. How they would hold up under pressure from the storms was tested four times after the work was completed, and though occasionally damaged, the seals held.

  In their stack of supplies, Tansy took note of dried meat and pemmican. The men were creative in devising numerous traps for game enabling them to capture animals of all sizes without the risk of traveling too far from the safety of their home. Occasionally, they were still required to put their hunting expertise to good use and ventured off whenever able. Their diligence in marking safe havens had saved their lives on a few occasions.

  The storms also proved useful in felling a few animals caught unawares. It was just a matter of retrieving them before another resourceful predator made off with them. The survivors robbed every bush of berries they could find and dried them. They dried a great deal of fungus and mushrooms along with plants for their tubers and for the teas they could steep, nettle and raspberry tea being favorites. They dried a multitude of various flowers and their petals for soups and stews, garlic, onions, chives and other seasonings they were able to identify.

  Tansy attempted little blueberry tarts made from the last of her flour kneaded into dough and flattened with a perfectly rounded stone from their stream. The berries were sweetened with maple syrup mixed into a thick, lumpy filling. Tansy knew the syrup would run out well before winter was over. Their attempts at making it were clumsy and it was tedious. The storms had destroyed some of their efforts, uprooting the trees they’d targeted. They would be better prepared next year, Tansy promised herself.

  * * * *

  The men had spent an entire morning at the bottom of the mine, digging a latrine well out of everyone’s way with a collection of crude self-made shovels and some they’d found still intact. They situated the latrine behind a cluster of large rocks for privacy, but close to one of the wood stoves.

  Baskets of dried moss and old ripped cloth could be used at their discretion. Two ready-to-ignite torches dug into the ground would offer light when in use. When finally finished, the latrine was eight feet deep and two feet wide. The work had been backbreaking as they endeavored to dig out rocks and hard clay encountered along the way. The effort would be vital during harsh weather and well worth their trouble. They used flat rocks and smoothed logs to make the raised platform to sit on. The remaining roundish hole was covered with a piece of a battered rescued toilet seat glued in place. They would only use it during the worst of the winter storms, or when they were trapped and unable to leave the mine.

  Tansy made certain to warn the children about playing near their new outhouse that was more of an in-house. Clint looked at her incredulous as she went on and on about the dangers of falling into the deep hole. He found it so humorous he made a point to torment her later.

  “With all ’em storms and wild animals out there and you’re worried ’bout death by poop,” he began, laughing hysterically.

  Tansy gave him a nasty scowl. “I’m worried about death by anything.”

  Throwing his hands up as if to fend her off, he taunted her playfully, “Don’t you worry none. I’ll protect you. I’ll save you from the nasty mean ole pile a poop darlin’, don’t you worry.”

  He danced out of her reach as she lunged for him. As her momentum sent her past him, he grabbed her up off her feet kicking and screaming. Soon they were both rolling around on the ground until Clint had her pinned beneath him, her wrists high above her head caught in one of his large hands. She struggled and squirmed, no match for his strength.

  “Ow, shit!” Clint howled suddenly; he jumped off Tansy holding his head in both hands.

  Tansy sat up and spied Max who stood storm faced with a stick in his small hand. His little chest was heaving, his legs slightly apart, his chestnut hair was in disarray as his blue eyes glared. It was obvious he was prepared to do battle.

  “What’d you do that for, buddy?” Clint asked him dismayed. He pulled his hand from the back of his head relieved to find no blood.

  Max stood there shaking, but he didn’t flinch as Clint approached.

  “I wasn’t hurtin’ her none; we was jist playin’.”

  “He doesn’t understand, Clint; he can’t hear you,” Tansy told him.

  She rose to her fe
et and went to the boy, then knelt down to eye level with him. Tansy was at a loss. Max wasn’t born deaf and knew no sign language. Tansy knew only basic hand signals she had to learn when dealing with a deaf client; the poor child felt alone in a world full of chaos and now complete silence.

  Tansy picked up Max’s slight form and comforted him the best way she knew how, amazed he thought to take on a man so large, yet humbled with a deeper understanding. She approached Clint and warned him not to make any sudden moves.

  “Well hell, he’s the one with the stick,” Clint grumbled.

  “Just hold us.”

  She needed for the boy to understand he had nothing to fear from Clint, and more importantly; he need not worry about defending her. He needed to step back into a child’s role, not a heart-wrenching five-year-old protector.

  Clint held them, keeping a wary eye on the offending object until finally Max let go of the stick and held onto Tansy tightly. He sobbed, his slight body shaking, while Tansy rubbed his back and rocked him, soothing him with her hands if not words. Finally, the boy had enough of the contact and wriggled free, dropping to the ground and racing off.

  “Maybe Rose will teach me how to sleep with a eye open,” Clint half-joked.

  “We need to teach him not all men are evil. He hates men right now because he and Rose were so badly abused; he must feel so angry and confused. What will happen when he grows into a man? Will he hate himself?” Tansy said with worry.

  “That’s a good point,” Ethan interjected, he had been watching the byplay between the three. “Perhaps in time, and with our help, he’ll learn the choices he makes will be his own.” Tansy looked to Ethan thoughtfully, knowing he spoke from experience.

  The others entered the mine. All had spent the remainder of the hot afternoon at the stream after their hard work while the younger children napped. Rose had been coaxed into participating. With Emmy and Shanie along, she felt more at ease with Cord and Aidan. She had even smiled a few times when the girls climbed onto the men piggyback style for water wrestling. Their screams of delight while Aidan and Cord pitted their strength at each other, taking turns at being knocked over into the water, allocated the first small tentative grins then real smiles Rose managed in many months. Especially when the girls submerged then resurfaced spluttering to do their best to drag the men underwater with them.

  “You got heavy after a while,” Cord laughed, giving Shanie a playful shove.

  “No Cord, that’s rule number two!” Clint told him horrified.

  Aidan and Ethan roared with laughter.

  “Did you have a nice time?” Tansy asked Rose. The girl nodded shyly.

  “Well of course she did, made all the flowers jealous because she’s prettier than they are,” Cord said loudly and winked at the young girl. Rose blushed.

  “She is, too,” Shanie concurred.

  Tansy smiled at her daughter. She pulled a roast duck from the oven and everyone began to help set dinner out. They had roasted bulbs, roots of burdock from the fire ashes and Clint’s favorite, rabbit stew. Shanie exclaimed in delight at the herbs and fruit mixed with flatbread her mother had stuffed the bird with. Aidan had found corn for their feast and tomatoes mixed in with wild onions, greens of tender young burdock, wild carrots, tubers and lichens. Foraging for food was always an ongoing effort but well worth the trouble. Lastly, Tansy brought out her blueberry tarts. On Shanie’s was a single candle to celebrate her sixteenth birthday.

  Shanie closed her eyes. There was so much to wish for, so much she wanted for herself and the others. She didn’t even know if today was really her birthday. She just knew it fell around this time of the year. Finally she wished for happiness, hers and everyone else’s, an end to the terrible storms and hoped her father was proud of her and somehow keeping an eye on her. Then she blew out her candle. Everyone clapped. Michaela climbed up on her lap and gave her the present she made.

  “Clint helped a little,” Michaela confided. Clint offered her a wink that made the small child giggle with delighted excitement.

  Shanie held up a beautiful necklace made with the canines of a bear and little bird bones that had been cut to fit on the fine piece of leather string, it was exceptional craftsmanship. Shanie smiled knowing Clint had fashioned the pieces, smoothing any sharp edges and Mike had strung them together.

  “Thank you, it’s the most beautiful necklace I have ever seen,” she said to Michaela and gave her a huge hug that made the child smile. Shanie slipped the necklace over her head.

  “Don’t bite yourself by accident with ’em,” Clint warned chuckling.

  Laughing, Shanie hugged him. Next, Max walked over to her and gave her a stick; he gave a meaningful scowl in Clint’s direction before he too hugged Shanie. Shanie could see Max look at not only Clint but the other men with certain anxiety. She thanked Max with a hug but looked at the stick curiously.

  “Hey, don’t knock it, that damn thin’ has powerful protection,” Clint declared and absently rubbed at the back of his head.

  “I found this,” Ethan said, he handed Shanie a package wrapped in deerskin. She sucked in her breath when she saw the snow globe. It was a dancing bear. To her delight and everyone else’s the music played when she wound the key.

  “Oh, I love it, thank you,” she squealed and gave Ethan a hearty hug, then a gentler hug to Ricky, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  Aidan and Clint had worked together to make her a warm winter jacket from the same bear Clint had acquired the teeth from. It had been an easy kill as the small black bear was distracted by the honey it found. The men had been ecstatic at not only their kill but at the welcome discovery. The honey and honeycomb were a treat. The jacket was also warmly received by Shanie. She pulled it on over her head, checking the fit, noting its warmth and the way the hood seemed to hug her head, then removed it setting it aside.

  Surprised, Shanie watched as Cord approached her. Settling back on his heels before her, he seemed hesitant but determined. In his large hands he held Chris’ Swiss army knife he saved from the flood and carried within his boot. The knife brought about mixed emotions, but from Cord’s look, she understood it was not given to cause pain. It was an awkward apology, a true one that had taken great thought and even, Shanie felt, some courage. Shanie accepted the knife; she offered Cord an awkward hug, though no words were exchanged between them.

  Next, Emmy gave her a large pillow for her bed made from a hide worked soft and stuffed with cattail fibers. Rose handed her a few small shells she found by the stream banks. She’d gathered them after hearing Shanie remark it would be nice to use some shells to decorate her outfit.

  Lastly, Tansy held out her hands. In them she held a locket. The necklace and her rings were the only things she had left from her previous life besides her children.

  “Oh, Mom,” Shanie said, choked up.

  Shanie knew the heart-shaped gold locket held a picture of both mother and her father. There was an engraving of their wedding picture on the front of the locket; they had been so young, so in love. It was her mother’s favorite picture of them immortalized. Shane knew how much the picture was cherished by Tansy and he acquired it for her mother’s birthday many years previously. Shanie had seen her mother weep over it numerous times during their perilous journey, or clutch it tightly when uncertain about a decision.

  “I can’t,” she said, undecided, torn.

  “You must,” Tansy said urging the locket on her. Of all her children, Tansy knew deeply within it was Shanie that missed her father the most. The locket really did belong to her.

  “Thank you,” Shanie whispered; she clutched the locket to her breast and tried to stop the tears threatening.

  “Well what kind of party is this without dancing?” Cord bellowed. He was up on his feet taking a surprised Shanie with him. Soon they were laughing and singing and clapping and the others joined in. Lucky bounded about on his great paws yipping playfully.

  Ethan carefully extended a hand to Rose who took
it cautiously; he rewarded her with such a brilliant grin Rose was happy she hadn’t refused. Clint had Tansy and Michaela clutched within his arms, keeping pace with everyone else. Ricky was picked up into Aidan’s strong embrace and had a gentle turn around the mine, while Emmy clapped happily dancing with Max. Emmy was very aware Aidan’s eyes remained fixed on her. She was more than aware of his growing fascination with her, a fascination she returned.

  It was the first real celebration of life they shared. That they existed was miracle enough, but that they were more than surviving, they were living, gave credit to perseverance from astronomical odds. They were alive and well, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter 17

  “So, do you feel any older?” Ethan asked Shanie.

  “I felt older when the world fell apart. Today I’m feeling a bit younger, although definitely wiser.”

  Ethan smiled at the beautiful young woman. Her skin was tanned from so much outdoors activity she was almost brown. It was an odd contrast to her flowing white-blond hair that she had washed and left alone to dry in the sun. Her eyes sparkled vivid blue while they sat companionably by the trickling clear stream. The day was hot, too hot and Shanie and Ethan had come to the stream for water. It looked so enticing they decided to linger long enough to bathe and cool off.

  Shanie began threading her fingers through her hair to aid in its drying. Ethan lay back contentedly on the bank with a piece of long grass in his mouth.

  “Your mother is a fabulous cook.”

  His favorite dish remained her shish kabob: thick meaty chunks boiled in water and their fatty juices until tender, slightly roasted bulbs, pre-softened roots, wild potatoes, onions and pieces of mushrooms skewered and slowly roasted over their ground oven, turned often. She then spread overtop a pounded ground mixture of garlic, salt, pepper, parsley, chives, marigolds and water. He chuckled knowing Aidan strove to bribe her, wanting her to make her honey garlic ribs that were indeed worth offering a bribe for whenever a fresh kill was brought in.