Battery-powered lamps were set up on tables in a back room where the light wouldn’t be visible through the front windows. The building had clearly been looted, but most of the furniture was intact. “Put the packs on the tables,” Harvey Nix instructed. “Then look for the one with your name on it. Once you find it, I suggest that you remove the parka and boots. You’ll want to wear them from this point forward.”
One of the adults called Lora’s name and waved her over. The pack was dark blue and clearly full. A ground tarp, sleeping bag, and snowshoes were attached to it. Lora felt grateful. Now she had something of her own. But once the parka and boots were removed from the pack, it was half-empty. That was something of a shock and made her wonder. Did the group have enough supplies?
Only one pack went unclaimed—the one with the name “Stan Valez” on it. “We’ll divvy Stan’s stuff up during the next couple of days,” Nix said.
His statement triggered a series of comments. “Poor bastard.”
“Did you see that? He charged them!”
“Yeah, but how did the protectors know?”
“Hal Mackey was with them.”
“Okay, but how did he know?“
The last question was followed by a moment of silence. George Larsy broke it. His expression was bleak. “What about that, Lora? Do you know how Mr. Mackey found out?”
Lora felt an overwhelming sense of shame as all eyes focused on her. She looked down at her feet. “I told his son, Matt. He promised not to tell.”
George nodded. “I think we can assume that Matt broke his promise to you. Just as you broke your promise to me. I’m very sorry,” George said as he looked from face to face. “I thought I could trust Lora and I was wrong. I hope you can forgive us.”
“Tell it to Stan,” one of the men said bitterly.
“She’s only a kid,” Cassie put in.
“A stupid kid,” one of the others said, and Lora knew he was right. Trusting Matt had been very stupid indeed.
The impromptu meeting broke up as people went to work pulling on boots and inspecting the items in their packs. That was when George came over to wrap an arm around Lora’s shoulders. She was sobbing. “I’m sorry, honey . . . but there was no way to conceal what you did—and it would have been wrong to try. Don’t worry. Time will pass, and as people get to know you, feelings will change.”
Lora wiped her face with her sleeve. She didn’t believe it but nodded anyway.
After spending the night in the restaurant, the leavers got up, made individual breakfasts, and were back in the Sno-Cats by nine a.m. There had been no signs of pursuit, and morale was high, the single exception being Lora. Her father spoke to her, as did Cassie, but the rest of the group seemed determined to ignore her. But you’re used to that, Lora told herself. And you deserve it.
Lora retreated into herself as the Sno-Cat followed the highway south. And there was plenty to think about. She loved her father but knew him to be an idealist and less than pragmatic. Yet there had been no reason to assume that all the leavers were equally lame. To the contrary, Lora had assumed that the others were competent. Unfortunately, as the hours passed, they proved her wrong.
The first problem was that half of the Sno-Cat’s fuel supply was gone. She could see that by looking at the gauge. And while math wasn’t Lora’s best subject, she knew that if the Cat could hold twenty-five gallons of fuel and it was crawling along at ten miles per hour, the leavers could travel only 250 miles before they ran out of gas. Then what?
After asking a series of questions, she was able to learn that, no, the group didn’t expect to find any additional fuel, and, yes, they planned to proceed on foot. The prospect didn’t seem to worry her companions in spite of the fact that at least half of them were clearly out of shape.
But given her age and lack of social standing, Lora knew none of them would listen to her. So all she could do was sit wedged between her father and Cassie while the wintry scenery rolled past. It seemed as if the two adults had a lot to say to each other, and while most of it had to do with their unrealistic hopes for the future, there were other undertones as well, what Lora recognized as man-woman stuff. And that was when Lora realized something very disturbing. Her father was interested in Cassie!
Not counting her mother, he’d never had a relationship before, not so far as Lora knew, so why now? Maybe the answer lay in the almost giddy sense of freedom that the people around her seemed to be experiencing. Whatever the reason, Lora didn’t like it. Her father was the one person she had left, and if Cassie took him she’d be all alone.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Cats turned off the road and followed a long driveway up to a house and barn. They stopped short of the buildings so a team led by Fry could check them both.
With that out of the way, both vehicles were driven into the barn and parked side by side—for good, Lora thought, given the fact that the fuel gauge in her vehicle was sitting on “E.” That judgment was confirmed an hour later as the group met in the barn, which was empty except for the Cats, an old tractor, and lots of rusty junk. Lora could see her breath, but Fry said they couldn’t have a fire until nightfall, when the smoke wouldn’t show.
Once again it seemed as if Nix was in charge. “We’re about 225 miles south of the Sanctuary,” he said proudly, “and that means phase one of our plan is complete. Tomorrow marks the beginning of phase two. Since the Sno-Cats are nearly out of fuel, we’ll walk from this point forward. Each person will be responsible for their own pack, and we’ll take turns carrying the seeds.”
By that time Lora had seen the trunk-sized containers and knew that each one was filled with pilfered seed packets. The goal was to find the right community and plant them, triggering what the group imagined would be a virtuous cycle. As crops were harvested, seeds would be put aside for sharing, and that would lead to the rebirth of agriculture in North America.
It was a noble ambition, and one that Lora favored, the problem being that lots of things could go wrong. The leavers were committed to the concept, however, and if any members of the group had doubts, they didn’t choose to voice them.
“Okay,” Nix finished, “eat dinner and get some sleep. Most of us are out of shape, so we’ll take it easy tomorrow. The goal is to walk ten miles. Any questions?”
Lora had questions but couldn’t ask them publically, so she went to her father. He was busy laying his sleeping bag on a blue tarp and smiled when he saw her. “There you are! It might be a good idea to keep your clothes on tonight. It’s bound to get even colder.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Lora said obediently. “I have a question about tomorrow. What if we run into the barbarians? Mr. Fry won’t be able to defend us all by himself. Shouldn’t he train people to fight?”
“That’s a very good question,” George said, “and we discussed it. But here’s the problem. If we were to stay here for a week, we would consume seven days’ worth of rations, and we can’t afford to do that. So Mr. Fry will train us while we travel south.”
Much to Lora’s surprise, the answer made sense. It was risky, however, because there was a chance that the party would be attacked before the training took place, but at least the leavers had given the matter some thought.
So Lora said good night and went over to the area where the single females were going to sleep and got ready for bed. Fortunately it was warm inside the sleeping bag and it wasn’t long before Lora fell asleep.
Morning came quickly, and when it did most of the leavers rose in a good mood, eager to tackle the task ahead. Many ate hearty breakfasts, but Lora was the exception. Some of the adults thought the party would find food along the way, but Lora had seen the inside of the restaurant and thought that a substantial find was unlikely. She consumed half of what she wanted to, stored the rest of her breakfast in her pack, and spent the rest of the time adjusting her pack and getting used to the snowshoes.
Once the group was ready to go, Fry led them out. He had two people with him at al
l times. Their job was to break trail while learning whatever they could from the ex-protector, who, truth be told, hadn’t been trained for cross-country hikes. In fact, according to Lora’s analysis, the only thing Fry could teach them was how to use firearms. And once the rest of the adults acquired that knowledge, they would be as skilled as he was. Still, most of the leavers seemed to take comfort in the myth that Fry could protect them, and that was good for morale.
As the leavers left the barn, they stepped into bright sunshine, which was rare due to all the smoke and particulate matter thrown up into the atmosphere by the nuclear war five decades earlier. So the clear weather seemed like a good omen, and even Lora felt a sense of optimism as they set out. Not counting the trip in the Sno-Cat, and brief journeys to and from it, this was the first time she’d been outside the Sanctuary. She delighted in the cold, crisp air, the crunching sound that her snowshoes made as they broke through crusty snow, and all the wild vegetation. Wherever Lora looked, there were trees, bushes, and a wide variety of plants, all growing in a random manner. It was very different from the strictly controlled environment she was used to.
She’d seen pictures, of course, but the foliage looked greener, the ice crystals embedded in the top layer of snow glittered like tiny diamonds, and the sky was a beautiful blue. Up front she could see Fry, accompanied by her father and Don Beck, both armed with rifles. Then came Ed Dero and Jon Gore, carrying a trunk full of seeds on what amounted to a litter. Tim Hobbs and Ralph Kilmer were right behind them with a second box. Because each container weighed a hundred pounds, both men were carrying fifty pounds in addition to their packs. That made it difficult for them to match the pace of the people who weren’t carrying an extra burden.
Meanwhile, Lora was stepping on her own snowshoes. Gradually she discovered that it was necessary to adopt a wider stance. That helped, but there were slippery spots and places where it was necessary to negotiate obstacles. Lora began to watch for small trees that could be used to make trekking poles.
Then, as the road began to rise, the group was forced to use the traction devices on the bottom of their snowshoes and the pace slowed. Shortly thereafter the rotations started, and Lora and three adult women were brought forward to carry a seed box.
Lora didn’t mind carrying her share of the load but could tell that some of the older women were struggling, and she thought she knew why. It wasn’t the weight so much as the need to stay in step with each other. Something to think about.
Clouds gradually moved in to block the sun, and what originally seemed like fun became a grueling march. Three hours later, when the group arrived at what had been a combination gas station and country store, all of them were ready for a rest. The complex had been looted so many times that all the windows were broken, the shelves were empty, and the gas pumps were riddled with bullet holes. Still, it was a place to pause, and people went every which way looking for places to sit and eat.
Lora took the opportunity to seek out her father. He was sitting on a seed trunk next to Cassie, and as they looked up at her, the two adults wore guilty expressions, like kids caught raiding a cookie jar. Lora felt the usual sense of resentment but pushed it away. Her father desired some happiness, and if that meant Cassie, then so be it. Lora would get out of the way. “Hey, Lora,” George said awkwardly. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Lora replied, “but I think some people are struggling.”
George nodded. “You’re right. We’re out of shape.”
“That’s true,” Lora agreed, “but it’s more than that. The seed boxes are hard to carry.”
George frowned. “We aren’t going to dump the seeds, Lora . . . not after all we sacrificed to get here.”
“That isn’t what I have in mind,” Lora replied. “My pack is half-empty. So is yours. Why not divvy the seeds up between everyone in the group? Give the men more, younger women a little less, and old people a minimal amount. That would be fair and make it easier to walk through the snow.”
Cassie smiled. “I think Lora’s plan is absolutely brilliant.”
George nodded. “You’re right. She should take the idea to Harvey Nix.”
“No,” Lora said emphatically. “You tell him. He’ll listen to you.”
“She’s right,” Cassie put in. “People will get over the Mackey thing—but it’s still fresh in their minds.”
So George went to see Nix, and after a fifteen-minute discussion, the decision was made. All the leavers were told to empty their packs so that a package of seeds could be placed in the bottom of each. Lora wouldn’t get credit for the idea but didn’t care. It was going to make the trip easier for everyone concerned, and that was the main thing.
Just as the rest of the group finished the process of dividing the seeds, Beck appeared with an armful of poles. While some were made from aluminum tubing and some had been cut from dowels, all had been found in the piles of junk out back. There was a clatter as they spilled onto the ground. “There aren’t enough for everyone,” Beck announced, “but it’s a start. I cut them long so people can whittle them down to the length they need.”
Lora made no attempt to acquire poles for herself, knowing others needed them more, but made a note to keep her eyes peeled. In her opinion, the aluminum tubing looked like the way to go.
By the time it was over, the break had consumed two hours rather than the half hour Nix had envisioned. But having rid themselves of the boxes, and having acquired trekking poles for half the group, the leavers were able to move more quickly than before. The highway wasn’t what it had been fifty years earlier, yet thanks to the fact that the section they were on was flat and straight, it was easy to circumvent the few obstacles they encountered.
It wasn’t long before the group established a regular rhythm in which people went forward to learn about the firearms some of them had been issued, stayed for a while, and were rotated to the back of the column. Lora knew it was important to learn everything she could, so she forced herself into the rotation and was pleased to find that no one objected. Fry had the instructions down by the time she reached him, so it wasn’t long before she understood the difference between a rifle and a shotgun, the advantages of each, and the basics of gun safety.
At about three in the afternoon, they arrived at an intersection where roads came in from the east and west. There were some run-down buildings, some snow-humped cars, and a lot of tracks, all headed south. “It looks as if people are coming together for some reason,” Ed Dero observed. “I wonder what it is?”
Lora and Dero were walking side by side at that point, talking about his favorite subject, hydroponics. As the rest of the group came to a halt, they did too. A leadership conference followed but soon came to the obvious conclusion. The leavers couldn’t go back and didn’t have enough provisions to stay where they were, so all they could do was keep going and hope for the best.
As the group followed the tracks south, Lora was stunned by the vast sweep of the cloud-strewn sky, the snow-covered fields that seemed to stretch forever, and the arrow-straight road that ran all the way to the southern horizon. There was comfort in knowing that they could see trouble coming from a long way off. The final hours of the afternoon passed pleasantly, and by the time they arrived in what had once been a small hamlet, the dimly seen sun was low in the western sky. Nix called a halt, and after a quick look around, it was agreed that they would hole up in what had once been a post office.
The concrete-block building had been occupied recently, judging from the hot embers in the old-fashioned potbellied stove, an amenity that was too heavy to steal. It sat in the corner of a large room with a counter and storage area in the back.
As darkness fell, the leavers settled in, made their meals, and prepared for bed. Once Lora’s sleeping bag was laid out, she made a mug of hot tea and took it out back, where a semicircle of plastic chairs was waiting. The fact that no one had bothered to take them was a testimonial to how common lawn furniture was—and how many people had
perished since the war.
Lora sat down, took a sip of tea, and savored the peace and quiet. Earlier in the day she had been struck by how vast the world was. Now, as she began to contemplate the future, she wondered what it would hold. That was a new experience. Inside the Sanctuary children took tests, were told what they would be good at, and were assigned to those occupations. They claimed it was a scientific way to make sure that all the citizens were happy, but Lora had doubts. Were the people who held the most desirable jobs the best qualified to do so? Or had they been selected for political reasons? Take Matt, for example. He smoked weed and he was slated for an administrative post—or had been. Would his father’s death put an end to that?
Lora was considering that possibility when she heard the muted pop-pop-pop of what might have been gunfire. And she wasn’t the only one. Fry materialized out of the darkness. He was standing in the spill of light from the open door. “Did you hear that?”
Lora looked up at him. “It could have been gunfire. Off thata way.”
Fry nodded and disappeared inside. A bustle of activity followed as people with guns appeared and took up defensive positions around the building. All the leavers were on edge after that, but there were no further noises and the night passed without incident.
Once daylight came, Fry and two other men went out to take a look around. When they came back, it was with disturbing news. Judging from all the hoofprints, a party of up to thirty riders had circled the hamlet during the night. But why?
That question was the subject of considerable debate. Should they continue to travel south, which would take them in the direction of the gunfire heard the night before, or should they remain where they were? The problem was that they didn’t have enough food to hole up in the post office. After much dithering, the decision was made to resume the march, a course of action Lora understood but was worried about.
The Seeds of Man Page 5
