by Eric Keller
For three days after she struggled like never before. Completely alone after burning her companion’s body and, with the stores, she set aside, and winter deepening, it became clear to Kinma she would not survive to see spring yet she could think of no option beyond staying put. The image of the man with piercing eyes replayed in her tired mind each night when she tried to sleep. Then, on the fourth morning, the face with the reddish beard magically reappeared in the crevice opening and introduced itself as Hale.
They remained together ever since. There were only two other women in the Bank back then, but Hale told Harrison that Kinma would be staying with him and him alone. Kinma never learned what that demand cost Hale, but she was certain it was not a cheap bargain. Like a miracle come to life, the man with the grey eyes continually treated her with kindness even while surrounded by immense cruelty.
Now, all alone again, alone in a place far harsher than even a frozen cave and all she could think about was how much she missed him. Tears were starting to escape her eyes when a soft knock on the door startled her.
“Hello, Kinma?”
A quiet woman’s voice. Her first instinct was to ignore the knock, pretend she was not there, but then she looked around the dark, empty apartment and slowly rose to her feet. Opening the door revealed Seanah.
The petite woman held Kinma’s bright yellow toque with the wide, black band. Seanah’s bottom lip was split, but an injury on a woman did not even register as noticeable within the Bank. Kinma did not know Seanah well, she used to be a nurse of some sort, arrived two years ago and spent most of her time working in the kitchen while Kinma dealt more with repairs and making things. She lived with three of the men under some sort of arrangement which seemed tolerable from a distance, at least in comparison to how some women were treated.
“Hi Kinma, I found this in the laundry area. It’s a good hat, I know you like it, didn’t want it to go missing on you.”
Instinctively, Kinma touched her hair. Feeling foolish she said, “Oh, thanks, it must have fallen off, you know, while I was hanging things up…”
The angry red mark on Kinma’s cheek must have been obvious and the moisture filling her eyes was unmistakable. She was never mean to Seanah, but she supposed she always knew the younger woman looked up to her and she realized, now, that she did little to help make her life better. And Seanah knew nothing like the loving relationship between Kinma and Hale. Kinma figured seeing her knocked off her lofty podium probably gave the mistreated woman joy.
Dumbly, Kinma reached for the silly looking hat but, instead of handing it over, the frail woman stepped forward and wrapped her skinny arms around her. Feeling the touch of another person caused the impending tears to burst forward. Seanah whispered, “He’ll be back, don’t worry, Hale’s strong and smart, he’ll make it back.”
Sobbing without control, Kinma asked, “But, if he doesn’t?”
“You’ll be ok, you’re also strong and smart.”
Seanah released her and stepped back, handing over the bright yellow hat before turning to go. Kinma took the hat, not sure if she could ever wear it again without recalling the attack, but then she quickly put it on and called out softly, “Seanah, want some very weak tea?”
. . .
“What do you mean they’re gone?”
Morreign wanted to keep her tone calm, but the words came out overly harsh regardless of her intent. Leo’s hulking frame filled most of the porch, but he shuffled his feet like a scolded child as he said, “They were working the saw. We came up for lunch, and they weren’t up here, so a couple of the guys went to check. And, well, they’re gone.”
“Gone where? I mean, how?”
“The boat. The boat is gone, as well.”
This confused Morreign. The river was running extremely fast with the spring runoff, no one would take that creaky craft out there. “What? They took the boat?”
“We think so, I mean, Jacob’s bow is gone as well. Weirdly, that yellow axe they’re always playing with is there, lying on the ground like it got dropped. And Griff’s bow was there. Something compelled them to rush into that boat and with the current…”
“Why the hell would they get in the half-wrecked boat? They’re not kids anymore, they know better than to do something that dumb.”
Leo said, “I don’t know Morreign. I really don’t know-”
Sam, standing silently a few paces behind Leo, interrupted, “Game. There’s been some elk around and a bull moose. Found a deer carcass yesterday, think coyotes got it. Only Jacob’d need his bow, he’s the better shot so Griff would’ve been on the oars with Tina.”
It took her a second to understand, but then she agreed. They might have risked getting into the boat if huntable game appeared on the other bank. She looked Sam in the eye and said, “Go. Find them.”
He nodded, then turned and strode off. Paul stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulder. “They’ll find them. Sam’ll find them.”
Morreign appreciated the sentiment, but everything felt wrong. Regardless, she said, “Yeah, they’re probably already hiking their way back, maybe even with some meat.”
“Right, we’ll all be joking with them about this before nightfall.”
“After I scold the hell outta them and double their work duties. You should go, go help Sam and them look.”
“Sure, of course, you’ll be ok?”
“I’ll be fine.”
A kiss on the cheek and he left. Morreign picked her knitting back up, sat on her porch chair and watched Paul move across the muddy Clearing. She pictured Jacob that morning, cramming potato pancakes into his mouth, in a bad mood, tired and hungover. He only wore his denim jacket, normally she would have suggested a heavier coat, but she decided not to nag. Now a powerful worry gnawed at her, something she could not name, but it was there sharp and obvious nonetheless. Her instincts were rarely wrong, her keen instincts were why they were here at all. She would not be seeing her son at nightfall.
. . .
When they came to a turn in the river Jacob, Griff and Tina tried to steer the boat towards the bank with their hands, but that only served to make them wetter. And being wet was now a serious problem as the sun sunk and a growing chill filled the air. They were facing a frigid night huddled in the hull of a metal boat on near frozen water with only thin jackets and no fire.
“Jacob?”
The question surprised Jacob. Griff hadn’t spoken in an hour, an eternity for him. They all sat side by side having moved closer and closer together as the temperature dropped. Tina seemed to have fallen in a fitful doze between their bodies while Jacob and Griff silently scanned the moving water, hoping for something, anything, that might end their unplanned trip.
“Yeah, Griff.”
“Are we gonna die?”
“Everyone dies.”
“Are we gonna die in this damn boat?”
So far they only saw one decrepit bridge far too high to be of help and, even that false hope, passed hours ago. Chunks of ice constantly floated by but they were too light to effectively push off of when they did get close enough. Other than that, only more rapidly moving water and banks filled with trees blurred by and, it seemed to Jacob, they were actually going faster now.
He started to say their chances were not looking strong when he heard a distance grumbling sound. Griff also heard it and asked, “What’s that? A bloody waterfall?”
Squinting, Jacob’s keen eyes could see spray up ahead, he said, “I think something’s blocking the river up there.”
Their movement stirred Tina awake. “What? What’s going on?”
Jacob answered, “I don’t know, but it looks like there’s
something up there. Let’s get ready.”
Worry filled Griff’s voice as he asked, “Ready for what?”
“Hell if I know.”
They all carefully crept to the front of the boat as the roar of angry water grew louder. After a moment Tina, amazed, said, “A goddamn chance.”
Turning a slight bend, they saw a thin island splitting the river. Chunks of ice had piled up against it making a partial dam on one side. They were headed right for it. Jacob said, “When we hit-”
Griff interrupted, “- we jump. Got it. Tina, you go first.”
Her voice sounded surprisingly strong and sure as she said, “Yeah. I’ll pull you guys up.”
Jacob’s legs felt stiff and frozen and strangely heavy. He worried they would not work when needed. But when the hull of the boat cracked into the ice, Tina leaped without hesitation. Following her lead, Jacob pressed against the aluminum hull and flung himself out of the boat.
He crashed down hard, and the ice beneath him dipped, but he managed to scramble forward, driven by drowning fuelled fright and the icy cold all around him to keep moving. Quickly throwing himself forward with the hope of more solid ground farther ahead, he clawed at the ice while he eagerly willed it his weight. Behind him, he heard cursing and splashing.
Looking over his shoulder he saw Griff, clinging to the ice as he struggled to kick his way to safety. Spinning on his belly, Jacob moved to help his friend, but Tina scrambled back over him, pushing his ice float down and flooding it with even more icy water. Unfazed, Tina threw out her one hand. Griff missed on his first attempt but then managed to grab hold on the second. Jacob slipped out from under Tina, crawling backward as he took hold of her ankle and pulled. Together, the trio half slid, half lurched off the ice and onto the muddy earth of the narrow island as the boat bounced over the frozen dam and speed off back down the river.
Through panting breath, Jacob asked, “You guys ok?”
Griff said, “Think I sprained my ankle but not too bad.”
Tina made it to her feet first, saying, “I’m ok. Let’s get a fire going before my last arm freezes off.”
. . .
Hale’s legs were aching, and the bike seat caused his ass to go numb long ago, but it actually felt slightly good being out and away from the darkness of Thule. If not for being constantly worried about Kinma, he might be enjoying himself.
Being in the woods meant not having to conserve wood so, choosing to ignore potential dangers in exchange for feeling true warmth, the patrol built a massive fire out of deadfall, and they all reclined on their packs, taking in the rare heat. Milo dropped down next to him and handed over a tin cup of pine needle tea, saying, “It’s bitter as hell but hot.”
“I miss coffee.”
“I don’t even remember coffee.”
“That’s probably for the best since I doubt we’ll see any more of it in our lifetimes.”
Milo put his feet near the fire and took in a deep breath before continuing, “Probably shouldn’t say this, but this beats that mess back at Thule, even if it means a gettin’ shot at a bit.”
Hale knew what Milo was getting at, but he still asked, “How you figure?”
“Right, like you don’t know. Fine, you want to play innocent, I’ll say, it can be somewhat oppressive ‘round there at times. Hell, you’re the asshole who put these complex thoughts in my simple mind, to begin with.”
A companionable silence filled the space between them. Across the flames, Hale could see Clarence arguing with two other men about something. To his left, he could overhear others debating the relative physical merits of various women back at Thule. The mundane normalness of men around a campfire. Men he needs to march to pick a possible fight against unknown foes on orders from a man Hale now figured to be a complete sociopath.
When he and Luke the orphan first moved in with the Bank, Harrison impressed Hale. Clearly in control, clearly thinking in strategic terms, clearly making business-like decisions on how to ensure the group’s continued survival. For a while, Hale even considered Harrison a friend of sorts as they spent hours discussing how to best safeguard their group.
Over time, however, as they grew into a sustainable society, Harrison’s actions seemed more and more draconian, more and more sadistic, as he worked to maintain his position and control. Any semblance of a friendship with Hale rapidly disappeared beneath Harrison’s continuing cruelty. Within the last year, the sadism and paranoia seemed to exponentially deepen and overtake Harrison’s last lingering humanity to the point he seemed to no longer think nearly as clearly as he once did.
Out on patrol, away from the chaos of Thule, sitting by the fire and looking back, Hale could not help but wonder if they wasted an opportunity by relying on a madman. Unseen forces reset the world with the Bombs, a nearly clean slate left for survivors. Early on, the niceties of culture and properness needed to be moved aside in favor of meeting primitive needs, Hale understood that. But, within a dozen months, the Bank became established enough so those left alive need not worry solely about surviving as immediate concerns over food and shelter were largely taken care of. Still, Hale and others allowed themselves to defer to Harrison and his unnecessarily brutal control and approach.
He told himself he allowed this to protect, at first Luke, and then Luke and Kinma. However, he knew his deference also came from a form of laziness. Easier to follow than take charge, easier letting another lead than being responsible. They were all well cared for as they took what they wanted from others. Fighting Harrison or taking on the risk of leaving would mean taking on additional hardships in a time when hardship already dominated.
When women were first allowed to join the Bank, Hale spoke up weakly about how they were mistreated, but Harrison easily talked him down, supported by the rougher men wanting their debauchery. Harrison only needed to point out that women ate as much as men but produced less to easily justify them being used. When he rescued Kinma and took her into his apartment, he lost the ability to argue at all with Harrison about the practice of women being seen as Bank property, partially because he would appear a hypocrite and, partially as that was part of the deal made to keep Kinma away from the others.
Lately, though, he found the want to revolt to be undeniable and now, with some distance from home, he could no longer suppress the growing need to stand up. Thinking back though, Hale supposed it was Luke who unwittingly provided the final tipping point as the orphan placed an image in his memory he could not shake.
At first, when they joined the Bank, the child was justifiably terrified, but he managed to settle into the routine of doing chores during the day and taking in whatever slim education Hale could provide him in the evenings. As he grew older, the evening lessons became shorter and shorter until they ceased altogether as Luke began spending his free time listening to the stories told as the men played cards. By the time he became a teenager, Luke was well versed in the informal languages of rig workers and soldiers but he, at least, remained willing to listen to Hale’s advice.
About two years ago Luke went on his first patrol. Hale wanted to oppose this, but he knew any attempt by him to delay the inevitable would only cause Luke to endure mockery and feel disdain for him. And Luke was so excited by the prospect that Hale’s opposition would be pointless as the boy would go regardless. The patrol turned out to be bloody and successful as the Bankers stumbled across a caravan of oilfield workers trying to find a new place to settle. Bloody and successful were the best sort of patrols, and afterward Luke would no longer listen to anything Hale said, seeing himself as a properly hardened man reveling in the celebration of slaughter and camaraderie.
Hale could ignore such a change, telling himself that such toughness was required to survive in the harsh new world. Plus
, he could not expect an adolescent boy to ignore the excitement of those around him and, Hale supposed, rebelling against a parental figure made sense for any teenager. However, one recent evening, he witnessed Luke harassing one of the women in the main room. She pushed him away, and he casually backhanded her. The men in the room howled with laughter as she scurried away with a bleeding lip. For a moment, Luke seemed confused by what happened, but then he seamlessly joined in the laughing and rude comments.
The scared boy in the closet, the one he chose to save, the one who beat him at checkers in that freezing apartment, the one who cried when the fat grey cat died, the one who wanted to help the men down below, now instinctively hit women for amusement. This was the society they were building, the one they were passing on. Since then, the plans to fix things began to form in Hale’s head, and his subtle discussions about revolt started. Now, with Kinma trapped back there and him out here, Hale realized protecting Kinma and Luke should not have been an excuse to go along with Harrison’s cruelty, it should have been a reason to oppose him.
Turning back to Milo, Hale asked in a low tone, “Really, you think it could be different?”
Milo laughed. “We don’t need to dance around out here. Ain’t no one listening.”
“Alright, you think we can fix this mess?”
For a moment, Milo stared into the flames and thought before quietly answering, “Nah. I mean, so many of them guys like the way it is now, it’d be hard to convince ‘em to live any other way. Once down a road like that, hard to get guys to turn back. Might be too broke to fix, I guess is what I’m trying to say.”
This brought forth an ancient memory that made Hale smile. “One of my first jobs was out on the rigs. Not even old enough to buy a beer in the damn bar and I find myself out in the middle of the night throwing chain with the roughest of the roughnecks in a damn blizzard. Miserable as miserable can be, I’m leaning against the stack in the middle of the night, trying to muster up the energy to quit.”
