by Eric Keller
Regardless of this envy, she liked Milo. Smart and competent without being arrogant or competitive. Plus, she knew she could trust him, if not because he cared for her then because he revered Hale.
He sighed, “We’ll be able to catch ‘em easy enough. They made better time early on, but that kid has led them into some nastiness, muddy as hell on the low ground and too steep to get up on the high ground. We can loop around since we know where he’s headed, go quicker, at least until we get past the area where we know the terrain.”
Oddly, this news worried Kinma more than it pleased her. If they were unable to catch the Bankers, she suppose she could tell herself she tried while not having to risk opposing them. She said, “Ok, any idea what we should do then?”
He leaned back. “Not really. There’s no way we can fight ’em openly and if we show up looking to rejoin in an attempt to work from the inside, Harrison’s smart enough to have us shot in the head immediately. I think we do an end around, get to this hunting lodge place before them and see if we can set up a defensive position there.”
“I thought about that, but the Griff says the people there are gardeners, not fighters. Plus, we can’t set up much in a day or two.”
“Yeah, but, if shit works out right, we’ll have an advantage: Harrison will think he’s attacking unsuspecting farm folk. If we can warn them, take away his surprise and gird these gardeners up a bit, we might be able to turn that against him. And men fighting for their homes can be tougher and meaner than you might expect, trust me, I’ve seen it.”
“You think that’ll be enough? I mean Harrison has rifles now, and his men will be very motivated.”
She felt him shrug as he said, “You never know in these things Kinma, you take what you think’s the best position with what ya got and then unleash chaos. It’s always a roll of the dice when the killing starts. But, yeah, I think that’s our best chance, maybe not a good chance but our best chance.”
For a while they merely stared into the dwindling fire before, finally, Milo said, “Kinma, I’m really sorry I didn’t get you out of that bloody supply room. I was trying to figure out a plan, something that wouldn’t get us both strung up, but then Clarence started bragging he was being left behind to take care of things and you were going to be his. I knew you could handle that limp noodle once we left and me barging in would only mess it up worse. As soon as we could slip away, we were headed straight back to make sure you were ok.”
“I know you wanted to help. You were right though, kicking in the door would’ve ended badly. Clarence wasn’t a problem.”
“You kill him?”
The matter of fact nature of the question shocked Kinma, and she turned to look quizzically at Milo. He laughed and said, “What? I think it’s a fair question. That’s what I was planning to do when I got there.”
“No killing, we merely left. I don’t think he even bothered to come after us.”
“Clarence’d be too scared to leave Thule with no one useful to watch his back. Shouldn’t be laughing at the idiot though, he’s sitting back there on top of a pile of food and firewood while we’re out here sucking on rabbit bones.”
“Fair point,” she hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Why did you decide to do this? Why risk helping these people, these gardeners, you don’t even know? You and Taco could go and take Clarence’s spot easy enough or find your own spot to set up.”
He took a deep breath and began tossing a pebble back and forth between his hands. Then he said, “I suppose the idea of living out my later years with no one to talk to but Taco did not appeal to me. But, to be honest, when I heard you say you were heading to help these people, only you and that battered kid, I instantly thought of Hale. It sounded like something Hale would do. So, I guess, it’s Hale’s damn fault.”
This made a knot form in Kinma’s throat as she said, “Yeah, he was definitely a troublemaker.”
“For a while, before we headed off on that last patrol, we talked, you know, around the edges I guess about how, despite the wars and all that, life for those left didn’t need to be as horrible as it was. Never really had a plan or even spoke about anything all that concrete, but he put the idea in my head by saying anything obvious, you know, in that way he had.”
She smiled at the glowing fire, and said, “I know that way.”
“Yeah, then when we were out on that patrol, I sort of brought it up, how we could make Thule more humane. It came out like it was my idea but, looking back, I think the conniving bastard walked me to it like a tired dog on a leash.”
“He could do that. In fact, now that you mention it, I realize he slipped those thoughts into my skull as well, making me accept them as my own.”
“But after he died, I guess, I don’t know, my will to improve things dissipated. Then, over the last days, following that pathetic kid, listening to everyone else talk with glee about all the terrible shit they had planned. I couldn’t take it anymore, I told Taco I was fed up with Harrison. We obviously couldn’t fight ‘em all, best to simply leave. Figured we’d stop at Thule and make sure you were ok and then we’d take it from there.”
He tossed the pebble into the dying campfire. “Frankly, I’m embarrassed I didn’t decide to try and stop the asshole myself. I guess I was simply content to be rid of the whole mess, wasn’t ready yet to start thinking of actually doing good, stopping doing bad seemed to be enough. Not until you said what you were thinking, as crazy as it was, then it made perfect sense. Exactly what Hale’d do.”
She sighed, “Exactly what Hale would do.”
. . .
Jacob did the math on his dirty fingers. The days were muddled and hazy, but he thought he was right, or at least close enough for him to call it right. Today was his birthday.
Only eight on the Longest Night, Jacob could not remember much from the pre-Bomb years, and the memories he held were blurry and uncertain. However, one of his most complete recollections came from his sixth birthday, him sitting at a kitchen table before a massive cake covered in icing while friends held brightly coloured toys all around him. In all honesty, Jacob did not know if he actually remembered the event or if his mind recreated the recollection from a photograph his parents kept, but he liked to think he truly remembered the day.
His mom kept a box with a few photos, pictures of him and his brother mainly, a couple from weddings. She said they took lots of pictures before the Bombs but they were digital so, when the computers died the images vanished. He often asked to look at the faded photos that still existed and, while he flipped through them, he questioned his mother about their previous life, trying to fill in the annoying gaps in his childhood memories.
Jacob, however, stopped these sessions when he grew wise enough to realize the discussions upset her. His dad called it pain-soaked nostalgia. But, to Jacob, the memories were not painful, to him the old world was like a fantasy, a fantasy he actually lived in so his faint recollections could add weight to the daydreams of it.
Lying in his filth-encrusted blankets under an empty sky, Jacob knew it was going to hurt deeply, but, nonetheless, he thought about what this night would be like if he were at Malden. There’d be no cake, but his mother would try to make something special for him out of whatever they had, maybe she would use the last of the honey. The people of Malden, as a group, would give him a few simple gifts. He imagined carefully opening a fishing lure, a scarf, and a jar of crab apple preserves.
Louisa would have her own present for him as well. Maybe a drawing. Maybe a jacket she decorated. Or a carving. The image of her shyly giving him the item, something she made herself in the dim light of her room, caused the intense pain he expected when he started the reminiscing to flow freely.
Before they foolishly got in that d
amn boat, Jacob had been looking forward to this impending birthday more than normal. For some time, he had pressured Louisa to sleep with him. Gently at first, but, as time passed, he found himself pressing harder even though he knew it upset her. He thought he caught hints, nothing certain, but a vague clue or two when she talked of his upcoming birthday. The longer he had thought about it, the more he turned the nebulous tips into a certainty.
Often, Jacob’s pressuring was not even conscious, surprising himself with his actions and pleadings. Other times, he knew exactly what he was doing, carefully conniving to try to get what he wanted. Part of him wanted to have sex, wanted the physical act. However, much more of him also wanted to get it over with it, to get rid of the cloud hanging over them. He wanted to be able to move on, to stop seeing Louisa seeing this way. And, to be honest, he also wanted to be able to tell Griff it was done so his friend would stop pestering him.
Now, lying in the mud, Jacob cursed his stupidity at concerning himself so greatly with such trivial silliness. Right now, he would give up everything he ever had or ever would have, to merely make her laugh one more time or to simply hear her say his name. Realizing he wasted much of their last time together thinking only of his own selfish, wants made him double his resolve to return to her.
For days, he had moved slowly. A sense of despair and self-pitying making his boots extra heavy. He had escaped, there was no need to rush now. Certainly, he deserved some rest. However, now, he knew that was selfish. What happened, to him, to Griff, to Tina, had happened. He needed to stop wallowing and get moving forward, get home, get to Louisa. It was his birthday, he could no longer be a child.
. . .
Sitting on the hard, narrow cot, Louisa rolled the bracelet around her fingers. Hours on hours spent making the square links out of copper wire, polishing them and linking them together. Before the gift had seemed so important, now it seemed foolish and childish.
The calendar pinned up in the main room of the Lodge was re-used every year. On December 31, everyone gathered around, and someone flipped it back to the front, to the first month with its familiar picture of a red tractor. With a pencil, they crossed out the previous year and wrote in the new one. Much discussion had been held about what to do once they ran out of room to write in the new years.
Important dates were marked on the calendar. When planting of certain crops should occur. Celebratory days like the Longest Night, Christmas and the First Potato Harvest. The week when jackfish spawned in the river. Also, everyone’s birthday was noted, well, everyone’s but Sam’s who did not want even that simple recognition. The square representing today on the calendar showed, “Jacob B-day.”
All day, Louisa sat on the cot in her room. Not wanting to go downstairs and feel the others looking at her, worried she would utterly break down. She merely sat. Oddly sadness, while present, was not the most powerful emotion. Instead, regret filled her.
A soft knock. She sighed, not sure about responding. Her pouting had been reduced since she started working again. Now, however, on this night, she wanted to be left alone to wallow in her misery. But if she did not answer the knock, they might worry for her wellbeing.
She called out, “Yes?”
“Louisa, its Paul. I have some dandelion tea and stew.”
Strange having Paul arrive at her door. She liked Jacob’s father, he was funny and good-natured, but she could not recall having spent any real time with him alone. “Ok.”
She opened the door, and he handed her a tray. “Sorry, got a bit cold. Weren’t sure if you’d be coming down or not. Tea’s not bad though, especially if you like bitter.”
His face held a smile, but his shoulders were slumped. He turned to go back downstairs and, without thinking, she asked, “Keep me company while I eat?”
Louisa sat on the bed, balancing the tray on her lap, sipping the not very pleasant tea. Paul took the chair, it creaking dangerously beneath him. For a heavy minute, they stayed silent before he pointed at the links on her blanket and asked, “That for Jacob?”
She merely nodded.
Paul nodded back. “Real nice. I was going to give him my good hunting knife.”
Playing with her stew, she asked, “How’re you doing?”
This seemed to startle him, and he looked right at her as his eyes grew wet. “Sorry, I expected you to ask how Morreign is doing, that’s what most people ask. I honestly don’t know how I’m doing. Hard day, especially so soon after they disappeared. I was sort of coming around a bit I think but then this day shows up. Actually, it makes me feel guilty, you know? Guilty I was getting over all of it, starting to move on already.”
She knew exactly what he meant, and she said, “I keep trying to tell myself he’d want us to all move on, to not live like this. But now that seems selfish like I’m lying about what he might want only to make myself feel better.”
Tears started to spill from her eyes and Louisa wiped at them with a sleeve, wondering how there could be tears left. Paul handed her a handkerchief and said, “Such a great guy. It’s tough when it’s your own kid to think of him being a man, but I think he was becoming quite a leader. Guess that’d make him more like his mom than me but that’d be fine, too.”
“That leadership stuff might come from her, but he definitely has your sense of humour. Remember him secretly teaching that trick to Sam’s dog?”
A muted laugh, “Yeah, right. Every time anyone said Lodge, Dog would bark. Drove Sam nuts. That’s something I definitely would’ve done in my younger years. I guess I’m supposed to miss him as my kid, but I keep finding myself missing him more as a friend. I catch myself wanting to tell him something or talk through an issue with him or just joke with him.”
Hearing his father talking about Jacob as a full grown colleague caused a stab of guilt. She had treated the young man like a whiny child. Sobs overcame as she mumbled out, “I was so mean, so mean to him…”
“Huh, you? Mean? No, you were wonderful with him. You were everything to him. I saw it each day.”
“No, no. He wanted to move things forward, but I made him wait. I don’t even really know why. Sort of scared, I guess, we were such great friends, he was my whole life, and I didn’t want to risk ruining that but, I don’t know, I might have also liked having that bit of control, you know?”
A sigh. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes, out here, I forget you kids go through the same messes we all did back in the old world. I should’ve explained to him how those things aren’t all that important in the grand scheme and that he should be less worried about making it happen and let life take its course. But, I don’t think he’d resent you or be mad about something like that, he’s not that kinda person, you know that. Young men sometimes say crap in order to get what they want without appreciating what they’re saying. Hell, sometimes old married men do that too.”
Louisa could only cry softly as Paul continued, “I wish there was something, anything I could say or do to make this better but I can’t. Eat your dinner, breathe and keep breathing. Someday it’ll be better. It has to be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-Nine
JULY 11, 2046
DAY THREE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-ONE
Milo set a fast pace. Having decided that they needed to get to Malden before Harrison meant that any time they made up was more time they would have to prepare, more time to improve their chances of surviving the onslaught.
When they told Griff their plan, initially, the boy was defiant, he wanted to find Jacob, wanted to protect his friend first. But, when Milo explained that they would make a concerted stand at Malden, this girded the worn out Griff somewhat. The idea of getting to fight back, of getting to stand up to Harrison seemed to make him rise up straighter and step quicker, staring toward
s his far-off home with a set jaw as he struggled to keep up with the new pace despite his injuries.
Tonight they built no fire, Milo concerned they might be too close to Harrison to risk the smoke. It was not cold, but Kinma found it strange to be sitting on the ground with nothing to look into as they talked.
Milo stretched out his legs, leaning back on his elbows. “We got time but no need to wait.”
Griff, already half asleep, sat up slightly, “No need to wait for what?”
“Plans. Let’s talk about what we’ve got ourselves into here. What’re we going to find at this land-of-milk-and-honey of yours? Any sort of defenses set up?”
Taco shifted over, apparently eager to hear. Having listened to Jacob, Kinma was confident the answer would not be what they wanted to hear. The settlement she heard about relied solely on isolation for protection.
“At Malden?”
“Yeah.”
“Defences?”
“Right, you know, guns, walls or ditches or pickets, anything like that.”
Griff thought for a moment before his exhausted mind seemed to understand what Milo was getting at and he sadly shook his head. “No, there’s nothing like that. Morreign managed to smuggle out two guns before the Bombs and Sam had his hunting rifle, but we ran out of bullets years ago. No walls, only the river.”
Kinma thought of the Bankers’ building at Thule. All the ground floor doors could be sealed and barred in an instant. Sniper holes were placed in strategic places where a man with a bow could fire endless arrows without worry of counter-attack. A dozen barrels of gas-infused oil sat on the roof, waiting to be lit and rolled off on to anyone foolish enough to try to break in. There were even rope ladders coiled up to allow for escape from the balconies in case of the security down below being breached.
