The No Where Apocalypse (Book 2): Surviving No Where (18 page)

Yet, I insisted we push onward.

Lettie wasn’t any heavier than Violet. And since the teen insisted on walking beside me, the sled pulled the same. Not easily, that is.

Beside me, Violet cried, sniffling and sucking snot back into her frozen nostrils. Several times I squeezed her tight, both times feeling the trembling. Perhaps cold, perhaps sadness, perhaps both.

Another stop came quicker than the first. Daisy this time. She didn’t think she could go on. Her legs, she claimed; she had spent the last of her energy.

Onto the sled she piled, against her strongest desires. We had no time for discussions I told her. It had to be this way.

Marge and Violet walked beside me, their arms wrapped around the other’s waist. Nate slid under the rope and helped me pull. Though it didn’t help much, it was just enough to lighten the load a little.

His breathing quickly became as labored as mine. His mother and sister marched a few steps in front of us, plowing the through drifts in order to make it tolerable.

Above us, a clear night sky lit by billions of stars guided our way. If we were lucky, we’d beat daylight to my place. But with each step I’d doubt that would happen.

A fourth break, followed by a fifth and then a sixth, slowed our progress. Lettie and Daisy switched boots with Marge and Violet. Each removed and replaced one boot at a time, sharing it with the other. The teen only screamed once during the hasty ordeal, and that was because of a bare foot dropping into the deep snow.

Back at it again, I pulled with the last of my waning energy. Beside me, Nate moaned, “I can’t feel my feet!”
 
though he continued to trudge through the snow.
 

I rubbed the top of his head, glancing ahead. “Up there,” I said, pointing to a spot some 200 yards ahead. “That broken black pine that hugs down in the road. That’s five minutes from my cabin. We’re almost there.”

But five minutes at a near jog is longer when you’re traveling less than one mile an hour. Almost five times longer.

Just before the last bend leading down the homes stretch, we encountered a monstrous drift of snow, blocking our path. I left the sled behind, forging ahead to create a small path through the drift. Going off road at that point would have been dangerous, perhaps deadly. I knew the ditch was a lot deeper on that stretch. Thus, I couldn’t determine just how deep the snow might be. So I battled and eventually won.

Walking back to my group, I noticed Daisy on her feet again.

“I can make it,” she claimed, taking the lead. My energy was gone, so arguing at that point was out of the question.

Daisy led well, guiding us safely through the drift and another 300 yards to my driveway.

I offered a sigh and a short prayer of thanks. It was a mighty short thanks before I noticed the drift covering my front door, our only entry.

It took three of us another quarter hour at least to remove the snow so I could pry open the door. Hustling everyone inside, the cold slapped our faces, reminding us the ordeal was not yet over. I dug through the box next to the door, searching for paper and kindling.

Daisy scurried about, lighting several candles. Bringing me a match to light the fire, she rested her mitten-covered hand on my arm.

“We made it,” she whispered, her breath noticeable in the cabin air. “We made it.”

I opened the damper and flu, allowing the fire as much oxygen as it needed. Throwing a few larger hunks of kindling, I watched Daisy wrap Libby up in several blankets. Somehow, mercifully, the child had slept through the entire ordeal.
 

Daisy pulled Nate’s shoes from his feet and leaned him next to Libby. Wrapping his stocking covered feet in several layers of towels, she pulled one of her daughter’s blankets around the boy. I noticed his eyes flittering. Hopefully he was warm enough.

“I think the pulling on the sled may have saved him,” Daisy emitted to the group. It may have saved me as well.

Scanning my family, I observed what the ravages of war looked like. Marge was dead in all but body. Her drawn face stared at the fire, her eyes now lifeless. Beside her, Violet clung to an arm, gazing at her lap.

Lettie sat cross-legged on a hard wooden chair, stroking her cheeks, probably trying to get the feeling back in them. Daisy took a spot next to Violet, laying her head on the teen’s shoulder and wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“It’ll take a good three hours before that fire is warm enough for us to even open our coats,” Lettie cawed in her usual matter of fact fashion. “Until then, we need to check on the little ones from time to time. Make sure they’re warm enough. Can’t let them freeze to death now.”

I nodded and noticed I was the only one responding.

“We got a little food with us,” she continued, holding her hands towards the flames. “You run out and get us some snow to melt, Bob. That way we’ll have water. When the sun is high enough to warm the place in a little while, we can rest. After that, we can figure out what to do next.”

Staring out the east window, I noticed the black turning gray. Soon it would be orange. Except this time, it would be sunlight, instead of flames. I turned back to the fire, adding several more sticks. Lettie was right; we sure as hell needed a plan. Otherwise, all of this was for naught.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

Through tiny slits, I watched the sun rise above the eastern tree-line. A cloudless day greeted me, us. Maybe some additional warmth would follow.

Rising from my chair by the window, I leaned the 30-30 against the wall. My eyes roamed the others while I stretched my tired back.

Lettie slept next to Marge on the couch. Sitting upright, the old woman’s chin rested on her chest. Marge was awake, but barely. Her eyes fluttered open as I moved. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me, or just staring blankly.

Beside her, Daisy and Violet slept, leaning against one another. I noticed their hands, still intertwined. Next to the pair, Libby and Nate slept, curled into tiny balls. Wrapped in two blankets, I noticed Nate’s arms hanging over the girl’s body as if he were still protecting her.

The stove radiated enough heat to be felt throughout the small room. With the bedroom door shut, its job was much easier. I wondered how long it would take for that room to warm?

Sipping a cup of water at least three hours old, I heard someone move. Lettie. Slowly she pushed away from the couch and dipped her own cup into the pail of melted snow.

“Haven’t been down here in a while,” she commented, scratching at the side of her face. “It’ll do, for now.”

We had issues, serious issues. And if we didn’t address them soon, they’d become even more serious problems.

Resting a hand on Lettie’s shoulder, I stared into her equally tired eyes. “I hate to do this but we need to wake the other adults, sooner rather than later. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

Lettie nodded her agreement. “Give them a few more minutes of sleep and then I’ll wake them.”

I wandered back to my post, watching for any trouble that I knew probably wasn’t coming. At least not soon.

“Give them another hour,” I replied, yawning. “Then we need to talk.”

We sat in a circle, each on our own chair. Beside me was Marge, next to her was Lettie, followed by Daisy, and finally Violet. No one looked refreshed or happy. Everyone still wore their jackets, some a little more opened than others.

If the eyes were the gateway to the soul, we were all dead. Perhaps our bodies didn’t know that yet, but our faces displayed death.

“First off,” I began, sounding exhausted, “is water. A person can only live a few days without water. Fortunately, we have a plentiful supply of it lying outside.”

I’d hoped that would lighten a few of the dreary faces around me but it didn’t. I pushed forward.

“We have enough guns and ammo to last us for a while,” I continued, rubbing my hands and blowing into them. “I checked the 30-30 this morning and there are still 12 shots in it.” The next news required a more delicate approach.

“My 45 has ten shots, the 20-gauge four,” I paused, looking up. I had almost called it ‘Dizzy’s 20-gauge’ in error. It was mine now. I wondered if Marge noticed my hesitation.

“I can wander back to Lettie’s and see if any 45 caliber ammo made it through the fire,” I added. “Not for a while, but soon enough. If we need more for the 20-gauge…” I peeked at Marge again. “I’ll have to wander back to Dizzy’s to look for that.”

Though I expected tears, Marge simply nodded. Two people to my left, I heard Daisy sniffle. Bless her soft heart.

“This place is too small for all of us, but it’s the best we got right now.” I glanced at Lettie for confirmation.

“It’s the only place we got,” she stated forcefully. “And it’s safe. Limited access, good source of water. We’ll be fine here.”

Fine; I might not have used that word. Perhaps cramped or packed would have been a better description.

“I don’t think we can dare to go looking for a new place anywhere north of here,” I continued. “Next decent sized place to the south was Frank’s. But I burned that down a while back.”

God, how much more impossible could things have been
, I wondered.

“Kind of short sighted on your part,” Lettie squawked, sounding more like her old self. “But that was his wish. No crying over spilt milk now.”

“This place will be fine, Bob,” Daisy interjected, her tone as optimistic as the situation allowed. “We’ll make a nice home here, for all of us.”

Several nodded, Lettie and Marge. “What are we gonna do when the baby comes?” Violet asked, chewing on a hangnail. “We aren’t going to make it.”

I sighed and allowed my head to drop, knowing Daisy would make it right. At least I hoped she would.

“It’s going to be all right, Violet,” Daisy said, sounding as happy as she could at a bad time.

“Where will she sleep?” the teen demanded. “Where will I give birth? What happens if I need some sort of help?”

I looked up to find Marge staring at her daughter. “It’s going to be all right, Violet,” she said, sounding far more positive than I expected her to. “Everything will be fine. I’ll be right here.”

Violet wiped away tears and glanced back at me. “What are we going to do for food?” she cried.

Yeah, food. I was just getting to that.

“Quite honestly, that’s going to be our biggest hurdle,” I admitted. “It’s in real short supply now. I’ll see if I can get a deer later today or tomorrow. The rest—” I waved my hand in the air.

“Well, we still got some at my place,” Lettie stated. Perhaps the old bird forgot that her place burned to the ground last night? Or maybe her mind had finally picked a good time to take a permanent vacation.

“The root cellar?” I asked.

She nodded like she knew something I didn’t.

“That’s buried under a ton of smoldering debris, Lettie,” I paused to let it sink in, but she never changed expressions. “Probably all burned up with the rest of the house.”

She shook her head at the group. “Not my root cellar.”

I blinked rapidly several times. “Lettie,” I said, sliding forward in my chair, “the beams were made of wood. All wood burns. You know that.”

Grinning as if she’d won a huge prize, I saw her eyes lighten. “What wood beams?”

I pointed a finger upward. “The ones on the ceiling.” I tried to recall the spacing, wondering if that made a difference.

“It’s all cement,” she whispered loud enough for the group to hear. “The walls and the ceiling… just 12 inches of perfect cement.”

My eyes floated around the group as we all began to understand her words. We had food.

Year 4 - early spring - WOP

“There’s not a lot there,” Lettie continued a short time later. The news of a potential food cache had brought most of us to tears. All except for Lettie. She knew it was there, so why should she get all “wet-eyed” about the fact, she figured.

“But there’s enough until we get this figured out, right?” My question came because I couldn’t recall how much was left in the old dark root cellar. It was better to ask than wonder I decided.

She nodded. “Yep. The way I figure it, no one knows it’s there. Not with all the junk that most likely fell on top of the doors. It’s a cool, dry place. The food will be fine whenever we get to it. And my seeds.”

Daisy cocked an eye at her. “Your seeds?”

Lettie smiled. “My heirloom seeds, so we can plant a garden in the next six to eight weeks or so. I don’t know about you, but I have no plans on surviving all of this just to starve next fall.”

Even Violet had a smile on her face. Things were looking up; once we got past this initial shock.

“I think we need to bury Dizzy’s remains,” Marge said, wiping a tear away. “Maybe place them back by his home. I think he said his father was buried back there.” She nodded at her daughter, for confirmation I assumed.

“Once the ground thaws, I’ll take care of that,” I answered. I hoped no one had settled into his old ramshackle trailer in all this time. It had been a while since even he had been back there, being in love and all.

“And this place will do us just fine,” Lettie continued. “Now and in the future.” She turned to face me. “You need to get back to the Wilson place as soon as the snow allows. He’s a fair, but dour, man. He’ll understand our situation and help us out. You can always play the baby card if you have to.”

The easiest route was down Dizzy Lane, then follow the game trail around the swamp. Four or five miles, I figured. Talk about an all day adventure. But if he helped out, it would all be worth the effort.

We passed the bag of food around and everyone took a little. There wasn’t much to start, so a little was all anyone received.
 

Nate and Libby joined us when they heard our lips smacking. The look on Libby’s face was priceless.

“Why are we back here, Momma?” Libby asked. Daisy rubbed the top of her head, giving her a quick kiss.

“We thought it’d be a nice change of pace, pumpkin. You like it?” Everyone laughed as Libby nodded her acceptance to her mother. But we all dreaded the Dizzy question, which we knew would come eventually.