Back To Our Beginning (36 page)

“Nothing will ever be the same,” Tansy said.

“No, not for a very long time, certainly not in ours or our children’s lifetimes. Maybe never if the storms continue as they have been. It’s too dangerous to try and rebuild houses aboveground when they’ll undoubtedly be destroyed. Even if they’re built with structurally sound solid basements there will always be the threat of the ceiling being ripped off leaving those below too vulnerable. If it wasn’t for the hundred feet of rock above us, I doubt we’d ever be safe.

“Perhaps a time will come when we can all regroup and build underground if necessary. Learn to harness the storms’ energy and make it work for us. While in our bomb shelter, I’d been wondering about that, thinking a lot...always lots of time to think, whether you wanted to or not. Maybe one day someone will figure out how to expand this mine, if there’re ever enough of us to need more space.”

The night was hot though darkness had fallen. With the walls of the opening now built more securely at the entrance of the mine in anticipation of winter and protection from flying debris and animals, Tansy could feel their coolness beginning to entice her back in. But she was loathing going in, to return to the sadness of the day.

“They’ll live now that they’re here,” Ethan said.

His intuitiveness never ceased to amaze her and yet there was more to her anguish. Tansy looked at Ethan as if he held all the answers.

“Yes, they’re safe with us, but will they heal?”

“In time. First their physical pain will mend and then their emotional pain.”

“But how? You don’t know everything he did to them, how terrified they are. Losing their parents, family and friends. The storms taking their home and belongings, everything they know is gone. Then that bastard comes along to compound their fear, as if they weren’t terrified enough. You can’t begin to imagine the horror these children have suffered and for months.”

“Yes, I can imagine. I was on the receiving end of a great deal of abuse by both of my parents while growing up,” Ethan said.

Tansy sat stunned. Ethan had always appeared to her so grounded, so sane, so...normal. She couldn’t imagine anyone like him suffering any kind of abuse. He was so strong and confidant, a proud man. He was as good with Ricky as Shane had been with their girls. He seemed a bottomless well of patience, never once losing his temper with anyone, never causing anyone to be fearful of his next course of action, never unpredictable. Her astounded look had Ethan chuckling.

“How can you laugh about that?”

“I’m not laughing at my abuse, but at your look of indignation.”

“I am indignant, hell, I’m furious. How can people, parents, abuse their children?” Tansy asked.

Mike’s innocent face flashed before her eyes. The thought of striking her for any reason, causing her pain willingly, was horrifying. Neither she nor Shane had ever raised a hand to their children. Threatened perhaps, but they knew the threats were idle ones and used in anger born of deep frustration.

“My parents were young and inexperienced and had no one to help them. They both had abuse issues of their own to deal with.”

“My God Ethan, how can you be so understanding?”

“Because they were my mom and dad and I loved them. They taught me a great deal whether they knew it or not. Not once did I lose my temper with my wife or son. I learned respect doesn’t go hand in hand with fear. Respect is earned no matter your age. Respect isn’t wisdom or obedience, it’s an admirable trait associated with love and understanding, pride in another human being for actions or, in some cases inactions. Most of all, respect isn’t demanding; it’s one of mankind’s most outstanding emotions given freely, willingly, or it’s worthless.”

“You’re a very complex man Ethan. A man I’m very proud to know.”

“Thank you.”

Tansy returned indoors, the coolness of the mine was welcome. Tansy checked on the sleeping children. It had been difficult to get Rose to sleep; it appeared you could actually learn to sleep with one eye open. Rose had been terrified that at any moment she would be forced into submission again. Tansy promised her no one would harm her or her brother. Having an idea at dinner, Tansy instigated an altercation between Cord and Michaela; Rose seemed to fear Cord the most. After Michaela berated Cord, and loudly, when she found out he reprimanded her puppy, Rose seemed to relax after all Cord did was growl at the child. Cord growled, Michaela growled back. Her little hands balled into fists at her sides; soon Lucky was growling standing his ground next to Michaela.

When Cord gave a mighty growl and raised his arms in an antagonistic way, Michaela and Lucky retreated. Michaela ran laughing, joined by the pup; both sought the safety of Clint’s embrace. He offered his own chuckle and snuggled them both. Rose shied back at first terrified, too terrified to run, clutching her brother. Both children sat frozen to their spots with wide scared eyes. But seeing the delighted amusement on Mike and the others around that were unconcerned, including the child’s own mother, Rose realized it must be a game the little girl often played with the men. It was more than apparent the child held no fear of any of the men present and wasn’t abused or concerned for her safety. There seemed to be a great deal of affection between the child and the man, Clint, who Rose came to understand wasn’t the child’s biological father. Although loved as such.

Soon after, the four children had succumbed to their exhaustion and slept. Tansy sought her own sleep. The bruising on Rose only reminded her of their own precarious position when they’d first encountered Cord and Clint. It could be her girls and her she was looking at if the situation had been worse. As it was, Chris and Marge had died. Yet here were two of their aggressors playing with her youngest. It was strange the way life played itself out.

It had been easier than Tansy thought possible to get used to so many people living under one roof...mine. Privacy was an issue they were trying to deal with. She had seen more naked bodies than she cared to until it was almost commonplace. Tansy also stopped being mortified when someone accidently came upon her in the woods while she was seeking a private moment. She realized it wasn’t out of morbid curiosity; it was because they needed each other to survive.

Their little clan was growing and thriving. Maybe things would never be the same. Almost asleep, Tansy’s last thought was that she sure could go for some vanilla ice-cream and she would sell her soul for an ice cold beer.

* * * *

Tansy stood looking in one of the larger tunnels in the mine. It was full of wood, sticks, branches, twigs, tinder, bark, dried fungus, collected dried dung. Anything that would burn, everything they could use to burn against the impending cold winter, not excluding any and all pieces of paper or cardboard they’d come across blowing in the wind or trapped by vegetation and debris.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Ethan promised her.

“But is it enough?” Tansy asked with concern.

She was trying to judge how much wood they would need for the winter months, wondering how many months there would be and wondering how terribly cold it might get, remembering last winter with misgiving. Though the pile looked exceptional, Tansy still felt a tingle of unease. It would take a great deal of fuel to keep three wood stoves and several fires up top going continuously for months, as well as the fires and stoves they needed to cook with.

At her insistence, wood was also being gathered and stored at the bottom of the mine in preparation for when the two wood stoves below would be in use, the space below would also require a great deal of fuel if they were to make use of it. That way they wouldn’t be carting it down the slope.

“If it isn’t, we’ll find more. After all, we’re surrounded by woods.” Ethan kept his voice light and calm seeing her distress, wondering at it. The twenty-five foot tunnel was jam-packed; it was one of the widest tunnels in the mine. As well, a massive stack of wood below was running the length of the bottom of the mine and higher than his head. The tornadoes that passed through uprooted trees, demolishing some down to twigs that were easily gathered without the aid of axes or saws.

The bonfires they built below for light only needed large logs draped across the flames. The smoke filtered is way out through the few holes and cracks left open within the mine. These had been unreachable, but only very tiny nonthreatening flying birds could gain entry. Few birds ventured within after their eggs had been confiscated and their nests recovered for useful dry tinder. It became apparent early their smoky fires also kept bats away.

“Yes, but who knows if a storm will blow up, and if we run out of fuel what will we do if we’re trapped inside?” Tansy said. “We were all so terribly cold last winter. I almost died of hypothermia once. If Clint hadn’t come looking for me, if he hadn’t helped me...”

Ethan placed a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture in understanding. Her fear was apparent and at her disclosure he no longer wondered why she seemed so agitated. The experience had obviously caused a degree of psychological damage. He remembered hearing from Shanie it was at that time two of their friends had perished and from Emmy he had learned Tansy blamed herself for the tragedy. He wondered if Tansy was even aware what her real agitation was, though he doubted it.

“Jist what are you two up to?” Clint asked, joining them.

“Tansy is concerned we might exhaust the wood supply,” Ethan explained a touch cryptically.

“Well, we don’t work it none,” Clint exclaimed.

“Oh God,” Ethan said exasperated and walked away.

“I was jist kiddin’,” Clint called after him and grinned.

Tansy wandered off to the next tunnel. Though smaller it was filling rapidly with supplies. Shelves lined the sides of the walls. They had been lucky at finding cellars and were able to salvage a few preserves. Tansy had rejoiced at finding even the empty jars. She’d already tried her hand at preserving plums and peaches, as well as making grape juice from the vines they found. It was tedious and like every other job she now had time-consuming.

The jars had to be boiled in hot water in one pot while the fruit boiled in another. She then had to fill the jars while still piping hot. She had become sweaty and needed numerous breaks to cool off at the stream. Working over the boiling fruit and water in the grueling heat without the aid of fans or air-conditioning or even a gentle breeze proved painful, and she had developed a severe headache. It would be worth the effort, she reasoned, in the colder months.

Tansy was also coveting six jars of jam they found. She told the others they would be opened in the winter months when scurvy would be most threatening and fruit too difficult to find.

Tansy was also looking forward to retrieving the wax seals on the jam jars. If she melted them down, they could be used as small candles. She found that while you could use animal fat in the lanterns it smelled bad or went rancid, attracting bugs. They also needed to improvise wicks. That wasn’t as difficult, Clint found canvas that could be cut up into thick strips, coiled tightly and coated on the sides in tree pitch from certain evergreens. Canvas was placed at the opening at the bottom of the mine along with two big tarps to cover the hole. An aboveground pool liner had also been effective against the wet weather and was draped across the top front opening of the mine over their door structures to keep out excess moisture during the numerous torrential downpours. They decided two entrances to the mine were enough and safest, and spent many a grueling day sealing one of the mines openings at the top of the mine and the smaller one off to the side.

Aidan and Ethan had returned after an outing excitedly with a wheelbarrow carrying a few bags of cement found in a stone cavity of a destroyed barn. The wheelbarrow had been difficult to maneuver over debris and through the dense woods, but it was worth the effort, coming in handy for mixing the cement. Along with clay, rocks and mud placed between huge logs helped seal up the entrances. How they would hold up under pressure from the storms was tested four times after the work was completed, and though occasionally damaged, the seals held.

In their stack of supplies, Tansy took note of dried meat and pemmican. The men were creative in devising numerous traps for game enabling them to capture animals of all sizes without the risk of traveling too far from the safety of their home. Occasionally, they were still required to put their hunting expertise to good use and ventured off whenever able. Their diligence in marking safe havens had saved their lives on a few occasions.

The storms also proved useful in felling a few animals caught unawares. It was just a matter of retrieving them before another resourceful predator made off with them. The survivors robbed every bush of berries they could find and dried them. They dried a great deal of fungus and mushrooms along with plants for their tubers and for the teas they could steep, nettle and raspberry tea being favorites. They dried a multitude of various flowers and their petals for soups and stews, garlic, onions, chives and other seasonings they were able to identify.

Tansy attempted little blueberry tarts made from the last of her flour kneaded into dough and flattened with a perfectly rounded stone from their stream. The berries were sweetened with maple syrup mixed into a thick, lumpy filling. Tansy knew the syrup would run out well before winter was over. Their attempts at making it were clumsy and it was tedious. The storms had destroyed some of their efforts, uprooting the trees they’d targeted. They would be better prepared next year, Tansy promised herself.

* * * *

The men had spent an entire morning at the bottom of the mine, digging a latrine well out of everyone’s way with a collection of crude self-made shovels and some they’d found still intact. They situated the latrine behind a cluster of large rocks for privacy, but close to one of the wood stoves.

Baskets of dried moss and old ripped cloth could be used at their discretion. Two ready-to-ignite torches dug into the ground would offer light when in use. When finally finished, the latrine was eight feet deep and two feet wide. The work had been backbreaking as they endeavored to dig out rocks and hard clay encountered along the way. The effort would be vital during harsh weather and well worth their trouble. They used flat rocks and smoothed logs to make the raised platform to sit on. The remaining roundish hole was covered with a piece of a battered rescued toilet seat glued in place. They would only use it during the worst of the winter storms, or when they were trapped and unable to leave the mine.