Second Chances (17 page)

“Come on people! This stuff isn't going to unload itself!” Adam said, waving a callused hand.

“Hell, Adam, we loaded it; you can damn well unload it,” Bert said, rubbing the small of his back. “I'm for the shower,” he said, heading off to the community bath. He passed Adam who looked a bit put out.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Since there was a bit of a line for the shower, John lent a hand unloading. “We're going to need a lot more wood to smelt all this,” Adam warned, stacking the ore near the forge.

“That's tomorrow's problem,” John said simply.

When they were done, he headed to the shower. Loni saw him bathing in the shower after a really rough day clearing stumps. He was sore all over, so he lingered in the shower until she snarled about using up the water. He pulled out, drying off with his towel hastily. She looked away in embarrassment, then snuck a look after he wrapped the brown towel around his waist. She recognized the tattoos on his back and right shoulder. She realized he had a criminal record from the tattoo on his back.

She announced it to the group at dinner. Some of the more puritan people were upset. Trisha, Adam, Guy, and Miranda all gave him long looks. Pat didn't look at him at all, moving the kids away from him. That hurt him.

John went to leave, but Eric and Miranda stopped him. Quietly he informed them of event. “I was a teen, a kid. I had just turned sixteen, all knowing and all that. My sister was dating a friend down the street. I was a hot head, I'm not proud of it,” he said, face closed. “My dad caught her out late after curfew. He was furious with her. She bawled when he yelled at her and screamed she'd been raped.” That made a few parents wince. “I went nuts,” He shook his head, ignoring the murmurs.

“What...what did you do?”

“I knew who my sister had been dating. She'd been hiding it from mom and dad since they had forbidden her to date. I lost it and I took a baseball bat down the street,” he said quietly.

Some people sucked in their breaths. He nodded, face set in stone. “I beat him until he was unconscious. His father caught me and beat me. The cops were called. He died from a ruptured spleen.”

Doc winced.

“I was tried for murder as an adult. My parents wrote me off as dead to them. When my sister testified she recanted on the stand; she had apparently just said that she'd been raped so mom and dad wouldn't flip out and take it out on her.” More than one person winced at that.

“You have no idea...no idea,” he said clenching his fists and looking down. “Finding out you killed your best friend over a lie. How stupid I was. The intense...” he shook a bit, then looked away. “I plead guilty. I was sentenced to ten years. I served six and got out on good behavior. I had my GED, a body covered in muscle and a love of reading.”

“I'm not proud of it. When I was in prison, I vowed to do better. I learned. I practically devoured every book I could find.”

“When I got out I bounced around; it's hard to get a job when you are an excon. I did a lot of trade craft, and it took years to get my life on track. I was a fireman, a logger, a construction worker, and later a roughneck on an oil rig. I made a lot of money there and bought in to a gold mine in Alaska. I spent a season learning the trade before I retired to my cabin in Alaska. I'm not afraid of hard work. I like living in the woods.”

He looked around. People nodded. “I felt horrible, I was depressed; at times I wanted to give up. But I persisted, I didn't give up.”

“You should leave.”

“Anyone else here have a record?” Eric asked. The group shuffled, looked around but didn't say anything. Eric got off his seat and stood slowly. “I mean other than me?” he asked quietly. Everyone stared at him in shock. He squirmed briefly and then stood straight.

“I'm not proud of it. I have two DUIs in my record. The second was five years ago; I nearly killed a kid.”

A few people shuffled and squirmed uncomfortable. “I screwed up. I have less of an excuse than John here, I was partying and didn't care. I was just buzzed, I wasn't drunk! That's what I kept telling everyone as I teeter tottered to my car and ran that kid down. I keep seeing his face...shock...and after when I found out he'll never walk again.”

His wife teared up. He looked down to her and caressed her hair. “I have a drinking problem, which was why when I got out I got counseling, I entered rehab. I went to AA and I have never,
ever
drank another drop since. I learned from my experience.”

“I had a couple stints in jail, fighting in my teens and twenties,” Guy Roberts said, raising his hand.

“Me too, bar fight,” Quincy said, raising his hand sheepishly.

“We've all made mistakes. To me this is a second chance. A chance to do right. By us and for them,” Eric said, nodding to his children and then to the other kids in the room. “I won't make the same mistakes again,” he said. His wife took his hand as he looked down to her. “I don't want to disappoint this beautiful lady ever again.”

“He's right,” a few people murmured around the room.

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone...” Ginger said, looking about.

“Yeah...right, anyway...”

“This place is all about second chances,” Eric said. Guy nodded. “I say we let the past be the past and let actions speak for each of us here. I know John, this John, not the hot headed teenager. He's a good man, and he's someone I want around, protecting and providing for this community.”

“Here, here,” his wife said, curling her hands into her husband's. He looked at her then pulled her hand up to kiss it tenderly. She smiled as she wrapped her other hand around him.

Loni found her triumph backfiring. She muttered about bonding over the whole thing. “What's next? Singing ‘Kumbaya’?” she growled as she stormed out.

Chapter 9

They knew summer was ending when the sweltering heat started to back off and the trees finally changed their colors. It was quite beautiful, and a bit scary as well for they all knew they had a long possibly harsh winter ahead of them.

Loni had spent so much time managing the animals and just trying to survive that she was still in a tepee having no place to go when the first cool weather hit. Those that had campers or homes wouldn't offer to let her stay in them; most had doubled up or just didn't like her. She did things on her own, mostly keeping to herself when Miranda or any of the other animal-oriented ladies weren't around. She avoided all the men giving any that hit on her or even just said hello in passing the cold shoulder.

Miranda realized there was a problem, but wasn't sure what to do about it. Loni didn't get along with her dad at all, so taking her in was out. Loni was too proud to ask for help too she realized. She didn't ask to move in with anyone. Victor tried to talk to her, but she just brushed him off.

Loni had been a vocal supporter of the “every man for himself” law of nature when they first landed. She'd even backed Kevin's idiots and their chaos theory for the first couple of hours before reality had set in. Kevin would never admit it, but he was happy now John had stopped him from torching their gear. She refused to do anything unless there was some compensation for her.

Trisha made certain to feed Loni whenever she had her over to help with her place or her stock. Carlene did the same and gave her a little extra to try to save towards winter. Loni wasn't very good with the kids, but she was a hard worker. They all admitted that.

Miranda slipped Loni some of her spare gear, but her dad found out about it and stormed over there to take it back. That had led to a very public row where Loni screamed at him that she didn't want anyone's charity or help.

Loni was not sure who was leaving her gifts of food. She never caught them; the food appeared when she was out of camp or was in the shower. She ignored the gifts at first, but her own hunger or self-justification finally won out over her pride long enough to use the items. She noted people were partnering up, families coming together. She felt alone. Even Gerald had Nel to keep him company.

John ignored the social pressure to shun the woman. He helped her, despite her position toward him. At first it wasn't overt, just a casual handout or wood he left near her tent. Eventually he was caught and in her pride she spurned his help, kicking the food away.

“Hey! You don't go wasting food around here lady!” he angrily told her.

But she angrily shrugged that off, then brandished the knife. “Back the fuck off,” she snarled. He backed off, hands up. From then on he avoided her.

John shook his head as he walked past her place. “I don't see why you wanted to help her in the first place. You of all people!” Pat said.

“It takes all kinds,” John said slowly as Trisha and Sal came over. He picked up his ax and went to work on the log pile. Trisha stacked wood, sorting it into different piles and loading a tithe for herself and her husband in her wheelbarrow. John didn't say anything, he had a deal with her for one of the horse foals next year.

“I think her anger is most likely a coping mechanism with our changed life. Depression has set in with her and others now; they are coming to terms with it.” Trisha nodded. They'd heard various talk from time to time as people tried to deal with how things were. The teens had it bad, they had been used to a light life of school, games and fooling around. Now it was work with the constant threat of death. Not fun at all.

“In Alaska, we help each other. It's how we do it. She's too proud, she won't take help, though she will help for trade. Her being on the outside of the community looking in doesn’t help.”

“That's because she's a bitch,” Sal said. “She's always causing trouble! Look at the shit she said about you!” He said. “And still here you are defending her. You got a thing for her?” the teen demanded.

John snorted softly. Trisha eyed him. He spread his hands. “Oh hell no. Hands off, remember? She made it clear to all us guys if any went nosing around she'd cut off important pieces of our anatomy. Pass. She's jail bait. But we have a limited population here. We've got to all pull together to survive. And we all have to keep an eye towards the future, passing the genes on so humanity has a future,” he said.

Trisha nodded.

“In other words, I was right. Someone should get her laid,” Sal said.

“So not funny,” Trisha growled, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” the teen said with a shrug. “It'd mellow her out or something,” he muttered. Trisha glowered at him. He looked away.

“How do you deal with anger?” Trisha asked, turning to John and ignoring the teen. “I know some of the crap she's pulled on you has pissed you off.”

John sighed but didn't disagree. “She does have a sharp tongue,” he said. “I've learned to cope with it.”

“How?”

“I chop wood,” John answered, hefting the ax. “It's good exercise and productive to boot. We'll need the wood later,” he said.

Trisha nodded, eying the ax. “Ah.”

“Speaking of which,” John said. “Come on Sal, we've got work to do,” he said, headed to the log pile.

“Do I have to?” Sal complained.

“You complain now, but trust me, you so don't want to be doing this when it's thirty below,” John said. “Cut, stack to dry, then restack where we can get to it. It makes great insulation too,” John said. Sal groaned but followed in his wake.

John's constant activity was an example to everyone. Those that were getting lethargic due to depression started to see the changes in the camp and their chances of survival and began to perk up. Slowly they came out of the funks to help out a little here and there.

When Kevin acted the loud mouth and went into a diatribe complaint at dinner everyone became hushed, wondering about their family back home. That went on for a while, then it turned into what they had lost, and how bad they were.

John was tired of the self-pity. When Cliff didn't do anything and a few people hung their heads or sniffled, he got up and talked about what they have achieved, having people stand and say what they have done.

He showed off the mugs and pots they had, the paper, and pointed out what they have achieved as a group. That changed to future plans. “I don't believe in the have or have-nots. We've done this with little—blood, sweat and tears. We may not have power and parts to make new computers to check our bank balance or play bubble blast right now but maybe someday our kids will if we keep on, work hard and don't give up.”

Cliff smiled slightly, ducking as Carlene punched him softly in the arm. Bert gave John a thumbs-up. There were additional nods around the fire. After a moment there was some clapping around Ross's general location. That spread.

John sat down on his log, clearly embarrassed. Bull pulled out a harmonica and began to play. Bert pulled his out and joined in. The other people listened or talked softly. People got ideas about what else they could do. They jotted them down on scraps of paper or on electronic devices.

Wendy came up with ideas for crude stains from the polyp juice. “If we rubbed it on and then washed it off, it did a very nice job of sealing wood. I think we can do something about the alcohol content.”

“How does it get that anyway?”

“I know,” Wendy said, nodding. “You'd think the polyps would have sugar in them. I'm not sure what's going on, wood grain alcohol, fermentation or whatever. A defensive mechanism?” She asked, then shook her head again. “Who knows. We can figure it out later. Using it is what I'm thinking of.”