Then again, neither was Kendra.
Carrie looked outside, wondering where Greg’s little sister was. Since the Collapse, most families clung together to survive. It only seemed natural that Kendra would come north with them since they wouldn’t be returning to North Carolina. Having another single female around sounded heavenly to Carrie. Kendra was a year younger than her, and if only half of what May said was true, Carrie could get along with her easily. A friend. But Carrie didn’t want to interrupt Mariah to ask where she was.
Finally, Mariah gave a little yawn. “Listen to me goin’ on. Sorry, folks. It’s just been a real long time since we’ve seen anybody. I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally be here.”
CJ squeezed her shoulders. “We can’t tell you how good it is to—” He stopped to clear his throat in an act Carrie knew he used to cover his emotions. “—to have my little girl home again,” he finished gruffly.
Carrie smiled.
While she and May were close, there was a special place in her heart for CJ Trenton. At seventy-eight, he was quiet and unassuming—May’s exact opposite—yet well respected in the clan. He’d taken in and sheltered every person in that room, keeping them fed and hidden until they could feed and hide themselves. Because of that, no one disputed his role as unelected leader.
CJ stood. “I would like to ask all of you to allow two more people into our clan, bringing our number up to thirty-six. I know this breaks from our rules, but I hope you’ll make an exception. Mariah can provide much-needed handiwork, and it sounds like Greg is quite the huntsman. Not to mention, we can always use two more people to help with the endless work around here. So, I motion for a vote. All in favor say ‘Aye.’”
A chorus of “Ayes” erupted in the room.
“Any opposed?” CJ asked.
Three hands shot up. Carrie shouldn’t have been surprised to see whose. Richard O’Brien and Jeff and Jenna Kovach. As soon as Little Jeffrey saw his parents, he raised his hand, too. Carrie gave him a little squeeze and pushed his hand back down.
May glowered at the three adults, but CJ nodded evenly.
“Objections noted,” CJ said. “How do you suggest we move forward?”
Richard O’Brien spoke first. “My apologies to Mariah and Greg. I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t be allowed to join our clan, but the last time we let someone in, they ended up walking off with a substantial portion of our supplies. Perhaps we could do a trial period?”
“I second that,” Jeff Kovach called out.
“No!” May cried. “They’re family!”
Mariah patted her arm. “It’s fine, Ma. People wanna get to know us first. You can understand that.”
“No, I can not!” May said. “Your father and I are the only legal citizens here. We should be able to say who can come or go.”
CJ frowned. “Now, May, that’s not how it works around here, and you know it. Richard and Jeff have as much a say as you or I do.”
“Can I say somethin’?” All eyes moved to Greg, surprised to hear from him after a half an hour of his silence. He stepped through the masses to stand next to his grandfather. “I think it’s only fair for…”
“Richard O’Brien,” Richard supplied.
Greg nodded. “I think it’s only fair for Mr. O’Brien here to ask for a trial period. We’d also like time to evaluate your clan before we commit to bein’ members of it.”
That surprised Carrie, but Mariah smiled, seemingly content to let Greg lead out in her behalf.
“Alright,” CJ said. “Jeff and Jenna? Richard? How about a month?”
“Agreed,” Richard said.
Jeff and Jenna nodded as well.
“Good,” CJ said. “Then exactly one month from today we’ll meet again. Until then, let me say welcome to Mariah and Greg from all of us.” His voice became gruff again. “We’re anxious to not only have you in the Trenton family, but the entire family we call the Logan Pond Clan.”
three
“HERE?” MARIAH SAID WITH wide eyes. “They’re all comin’ back here? Now?”
Carrie smiled. “Not until dinner.”
“Wow,” Mariah said. “How are we supposed to feed that many people?”
May pushed her wispy white hair from her face. “Oh, don’t worry. We have this down to a science. The adults are gathering what they have from home, the older children are out back starting a large cooking fire in the pit—or at least, they better be. With the men hunting, we should have plenty of meat for this spontaneous meal. Grab me the large bowl, would you, Carrie?”
Carrie went on tiptoes to grab the mixing bowl from the upper shelf. She had only agreed to stay behind after she heard Greg left with the hunters. She had barely escaped May’s attempt at an introduction earlier with a quick mention of claustrophobia, saving her an embarrassing public introduction—or at least postponing it. Then she sent Amber home to grab their vegetables so she, May, and Mariah could start the main portion of the meal.
Carrie handed May the flour as well. “If you think thirty-six is bad, Mariah, you should have seen us that first winter. There were forty of us living here around the clock.”
Longest six months of her life.
“It was worse than sardines,” May said. “By the end, we all wanted to kill each other.”
“So you decided to move on back to your old homes?” Mariah said. “Seems awful dangerous.”
“People were desperate for space,” May said. “They spent more time in their old houses until they started sleeping there at night, too. Carrie and her siblings were the last to venture home, but you can understand why. It was hard it was for them to spend time in their house without their parents.”
Embarrassed, Carrie quickly took over the explanation. “When we heard other clans were posting guards to watch for patrolmen, we gave it a try. Then Oliver came along, and now he keeps an eye on us. Everyone lives in their old homes all the time. Dinner is easy in comparison.”
“I guess so.” Mariah wiped her hands on a towel. “Alrighty then. Put me to work.”
“We’re doing the biscuits,” May said. “Carrie will do the venison.”
That was news to Carrie, but she didn’t mind. May probably wanted time alone with her daughter.
Slipping out the back door, Carrie scanned the distant tree line to make sure the men were still gone and headed toward the freezer. They were down to their last venison roast, and it wasn’t very large either. Normally March was a lean time of year, with the last year’s crops stretched thin and the next year’s crops still months away, but lately deer had been scarce. Jeff Kovach, the ex-lawyer and conspiracy theorist in the clan, was convinced the government was killing deer off to drive illegal clans like theirs into the municipalities for food. Carrie figured there was a deer shortage because clans like theirs were trying not to starve.
Icy water splashed her arms. She looked up. The clouds were still gray but no longer raining. Then she spotted the culprit. Zach and his friend, Tucker, were flinging well water at each other.
“Zach,” she called. “Stop goofing off and fill those water pots.”
Zach shook his wet hands in Tucker’s face. “Okay.”
Carrie opened the freezer door and jumped back. A puddle of water spilled out of the bottom. Three large ice chunks dripped through the slotted shelves. Without electricity, they used ice from Logan Pond to keep the freezer cold. When they stacked the ice right, the freezer’s insulation kept things frozen until June—sometimes longer if they moved the freezer to the basement once the weather warmed. The freezer now was barely cold enough to pass for a fridge. And it was only March.
Spring really was coming early.
Reaching up, she felt the venison roast. The outer edges were still cold but the insides, thankfully, were rock hard.
“When you guys finish,” she called, “mop up the water in the freezer.”
“Sure,” Zach said, struggling to get Tucker in a head lock.
Boys.
; She hefted down the roast, checked the tree line once more, and headed inside.
“May,” she said, “the freezer is…” She trailed off. May sat on a kitchen chair, floured hands covering her face, crying. Mariah knelt in front of her, stroking her long, white hair. Neither heard Carrie.
“I told Dad earlier, but I just…” Mariah’s shoulders hung. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
May’s crying picked up to a tortured wail. Carrie wanted to rush over and ask what happened. May wasn’t the type to cry. Not unless someone had…
Carrie’s stomach dropped.
Kendra.
Except Kendra was too young, too close to Carrie’s age. But everything told Carrie otherwise. Mariah’s daughter. May’s only granddaughter.
Kendra was dead.
“No, no, no,” May continued to cry. Her reddened eyes lifted. “When? Where? How?”
“She got real sick with the flu last year,” Mariah said softly. “Her asthma made it so she could hardly breathe. So we snuck into the municipality. Greg started work in the government factory, and I prayed real hard the doctors could help her. But…” Soft tears ran down Mariah’s weather-beaten cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mama. She’s gone.”
Suddenly Carrie realized she was trespassing on a private family moment. Regardless of how many Kendra stories May had told her, she wasn’t family. She crept downstairs to find some spices, but at the bottom of the stairs, her thoughts unexpectedly whirled from Pierces to Ashworths. Her mom. Her dad. She sank to the cement steps as the memories slammed into her of the day she begged them to return to the government commune.
Her mom had groaned for hours, so sick, so cold and clammy, and vomiting nothing but rancid air in her quarantined room here at May’s. Carrie had seen the end barreling down on her mom and pulled her dad into a dark corner.
“Please, Dad. I don’t know what else to do. Mom needs a doctor. You have to take her back. They’ll have medicines or IVs or something! Just please.”
He stared blankly at the wall. “We’re on the blacklist. If we go back, they won’t give us blue cards. They’ll throw us in prison.”
“But if you don’t…” Carrie’s throat had clogged with tears, and once they started, she couldn’t make them stop. She’d never been so hysterical in her life. That nearly convinced him, but then her mom woke up. Carrie’s sobbing had woken her.
Through lips so pale it made Carrie wince in memory, Linda Ashworth had looked at Carrie first and then her husband.
“You promised, Tom,” she whispered. “We can’t go back. For Carrie’s sake, you promised.”
Carrie hugged her knees against the cold of May’s basement. Five years, and she still couldn’t push away the fear that if she’d been bolder that day, pushier, she could have saved her mom—and her dad who died a few weeks later. Losing parents to seemingly simple diseases was not only painful, it was cruel. But what had the government doctors done for Kendra? Absolutely nothing. She clung to that knowledge to lessen the pain, but only for a moment because it wasn’t fair to find solace in May and Mariah’s loss. Or CJ’s. Or Greg’s.
Greg.
She glanced up at the nearest block window. The thought of him finding her huddled in his grandma’s basement got her on her feet. Taking a few deep breaths, she decided it was time to get that roast cooking over the fire and head home.
As she turned to finish, another memory assaulted her, this one less painful. Spices hung upside-down in May’s basement, most grown and dried by Carrie and her mom. It was a blessing her mom passed on not only the joy of gardening, but also the knowledge of how to spot edible plants in the wild. Even now, her mom was helping their clan.
Carrie wandered the rows of upside-down spices, wondering how much time to give May and Mariah. She had known of her mom’s death for five years. May had known about Kendra’s for five minutes.
After a moment, her ears perked up, hearing her name spoken loudly upstairs. May was hard of hearing and didn’t always realize what others could hear. In consequence, it sounded like she was having a one-sided conversation upstairs, one in which she was describing Carrie and all her “divine qualities.”
“She’s just the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet,” May was saying. “That poor girl has been through so much, taking care of her brother and sister on her own. And yet, you’ll never hear her complain. She’s such a sweet, little thing.”
As Mariah mumbled something in return, Carrie ran over to the darkest corner and grabbed a handful of onions.
“True,” May said. “If only she had a man to take care of her, she would be—”
Carrie flew up the stairs. “I found some spices. Thyme, sage, and…” Breathless, she looked down. “Onions. Is that okay?”
Though red-eyed, May smiled. “Whatever you think, dear. You cook as well as I do. You’re just in time, too. I was telling Mariah all about you, but now you can take over. Go ahead. Tell her about yourself.”
“I, uh…” Carrie’s cheeks warmed.
Mariah smiled knowingly.
“It’s a shame Gregory isn’t back yet,” May added, mixing the dough by hand. “I’m sure he would love to hear about you as well. Although I suppose there will be plenty of time for that later.” May winked at Carrie.
Carrie picked up the nearest onion and chopped it with fervor.
Mariah joined her by the sink and whispered, “Don’t mind my mama. She’s just teasin’.”
May wasn’t teasing.
Not at all.
But Carrie nodded.
Mariah plunged her hands in the water bucket to clean off the crusted dough. “Sounds like you’ve had a hard life, Carrie. I’m sorry to hear about your folks.”
Grateful for the change of subject, yet not thrilled to revisit the past again, she said, “Seems like everyone has lost someone or another since the Collapse. I’m so sorry about Kendra. So, so sorry.” Mariah’s eyes glistened, making Carrie feel bad for bringing up her past again, but she finished anyway. “No parent should ever have to bury a child.”
Mariah looked over her shoulder at her mother, rolling out the dough unaware.
Sniffing, Mariah asked, “How’d your folks pass?”
“A lot of people were sick that first year,” Carrie said. “After the city shut off the water, we were desperate and started pulling water from the pond. We boiled it and everything, but we must not have been careful enough. By the time we figured it out, four people had died.”
Mariah stopped. “Four?”
“Yeah. It was awful. But I still wonder if something else made my mom sick. She’s always loved plants, but without the internet—or even a library—she started experimenting, eating wild she’d never seen before to keep us from starving. At first it seemed like the stomach flu, but then…” A sickly image popped into Carrie’s mind—the smells, the sounds—and she shuddered. “The vomiting wouldn’t stop.”
Mariah laid a hand on her arm. “I’m real sorry.”
Carrie’s eyes burned from the onions. She pushed them aside to snap off bits of thyme. “My dad got sick, too, but it was different. Honestly, I think he died from a broken heart. After my mom passed, he just couldn’t let go. He died three weeks later.”
“How awful!”
Carrie forced herself to smile. “Only for us left behind. Isn’t it every couple’s dream to go at the same time? I’m sure they’re happy now, wherever they are.”
“I’m sure,” May interjected, coming up from behind, “that neither would have willingly left you three kids to fend for yourselves.”
Carrie hadn’t realized her surrogate grandma was still following the conversation. She gave May’s stooped shoulders a hug. “It hardly feels like we’ve been alone with you and everyone else watching out for—”
The back door swung open. CJ walked in with his grandson, the latter of the two carrying a few large game birds by their feet.
Carrie’s stomach did a flip.
Greg.
four
CARRI
E COULDN’T FIND a comfortable spot for her eyes. It took Greg half a second to spot her in the kitchen next to his mom and grandma, and then he hadn’t looked away.
“Y’all are back already?” Mariah asked.
CJ clapped Greg on the shoulder. “This boy has a good eye. You should have seen him shoot his slingshot. He had half of us laughing when he took down that bigger bird there.”
Greg didn’t respond. He kept Carrie pinned against the counter with his deep stare.
Normally Carrie was content with herself. Not that she considered herself anything special, personality, looks, or otherwise. She was simply content with who she was and who she wasn’t. Yet having a single man look at her so intently—a guy that attractive—made her wonder when she had last brushed her hair. A bath was worse unless she counted her mad dash through the rain. Then she had mud and dirt to worry about as well.
She couldn’t even remember the last single man she’d talked to. There was Oliver Simmons, but he didn’t count. He was too old. Same with Richard O’ Brien, only older. Which meant it was right after her senior year of high school around the time of the second stock market crash. Five years, and she suddenly couldn’t remember how to act or what to say. Already she felt like a fool, and she hadn’t even done anything. But Greg wouldn’t quit staring.
“Oh, believe me,” Mariah said, “Greg kept us alive with that little contraption of his.” She went over to admire the large birds he held. “What’d y’all get?”
“Ring-neck pheasants,” CJ said. “They’re beauties, aren’t they?”
May looked up, realizing there was a conversation happening without her. A grin the size of Texas split her wrinkled face.
“Look, Carrie. Gregory is here at last,” May said loud enough for all of Texas to hear. “Wonderful! After all these years, we were just talking about him, and now he’s here!”
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 3
