The Last Tribe (25 page)

“I’ll get the kids and we can head
to D.C.”  Todd announced.  He walked over to the park.  “Kids, let’s go.”

“Is Sol back?”  Jay asked
excitedly. 

“She is.  I don’t know if she is
riding in the Suburban or in the RV, but she’s decided to come with us.” 

Jay and Brian ran towards the RV.  Craig
collected the ball and walked towards his uncle.  “She seems nice.  Is she
American?  She talks funny.”

“She’s from Ecuador, that’s in
South America.”  Todd told him.

“Like Mexico?”  Craig asked.

“Kind of, but not really.  You know
Mexico is in North America, right?.  It sounds like you need a geography
lesson.  Maybe she can help you learn more about Ecuador and South America.” 
Todd took a step towards the RV and felt something soft under his foot.

“Nasty.”  Craig said.  He saw dog
poop ooze from the sides of Todd’s shoe.

“You have got to be kidding me.” 
Todd muttered.  He held his profanity in front of Craig.  Todd dragged the
bottom of his shoe through the grass, attempting to get the crap off.  The poop
was imbedded into the treads of his sneaker.

John watched.  “You know, people
picked up dog poop so they wouldn’t step in it themselves.  It wasn’t just a
societal rule.” 

“Asshole.”  Todd said back. 

Emily stood at the door of the RV. 
“You’re not coming in here with those shoes.  Find a hose and clean them off or
throw them away, but that poo is not stinking up our home.”

“These are my favorite shoes.  You
know they don’t make them anymore.”  He pleaded, looking around for a hose.

“No one makes anything anymore,
Todd, and maybe you’ll clean up after Hubba next time.”  She said.

“He’s your dog.” Todd muttered. 

“Clean them or chuck them.”  Emily
shut the door on her husband.  He heard a click as she locked the door.

Todd walked towards a street of
homes, hoping to find a working hose.  These really were his favorite shoes.

“Where would you like me to ride?” 
Solange asked John.  “In the house or in the truck?”

“You pick.  I’m driving the truck. 
We have music and conversation.  If you ride in the house, you can watch a
movie or play video games with the kids.”

“I would like to ride in the truck
with you and Matt, if you do not mind.”  She asked politely.  “I have been
without adult conversation for six months.  I like children, but I would like
to talk, at least during the first part of our trip.”  Solange walked towards
the SUV with her suitcase.

“How long is the trip to New
Hampshire?”  She asked.

“We can get there in a day, if
there isn’t any snow, and if we didn’t have plans to stop in Washington D.C.,
Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York City, and Boston.”  John said back, opening
the door.  “Would you like to say goodbye to your car?”  He nodded towards the
Mercedes.

“It is a car, a very nice car, but
a car.  I will not miss it.  I enjoy people more than things.”  Solange
replied.

“Sol is with us.”  John yelled.

Todd waved back.  He walked towards
the RV in socks, holding wet but clean shoes. 

The tribe was one member stronger
as it headed towards Washington, D.C

It was February, and Hanover was
cold.  The snow had been on the ground for three months.  It continued to snow
each week, piling and drifting above the window sills.  Greg commented that it
provided nice insulation against the wind, which howled most days.  Rebecca was
warm, dry, and well fed, but she was stir-crazy. 

The weather turned on the two
teenagers in December, becoming bitterly cold at night, and not much warmer
during the day.  Greg and Rebecca quickly realized they needed to get serious
about winter preparations. They gathered large amounts of firewood, and stored
it just about anywhere they could.  They filled the side porch at the front of
the house as well as the upstairs bedrooms with wood.  They filled the back of
their van with wood, and parked it next to the house for easy access.  They
knew the van would be useless once the snow flew.  More wood filled the halls and
rooms of the sorority next door, seasoned and dry when needed. 

Their chickens lived in a butlers
shed at the back of the cottage.  Rebecca created a coop by shredding
newspapers, books, and computer paper in place of hay.  The coop was warm
despite the outside temps.  It smelled bad, and Rebecca vowed to change the
paper once a week, but the chickens did not mind the smell, and they continued
to lay eggs.  Rebecca and Greg found five other chickens during their first
weeks in Hanover and were back up to eleven.

They had more than enough food to
get them through the winter, but Greg was obsessed with hunting fresh meat.  He
bundled up in as many clothes as he could, and headed out with his shotgun a
few times each week.  He set traps in hopes of snagging smaller animals, and to
his credit, he captured dozens of squirrels and other small game, giving
welcome meat to stews and rice dishes.

Greg could hunt for about an hour
before his fingers and toes began to freeze.  The snow was so deep he found it
impossible to go far without suffering complete exhaustion.  His typical hunt
involved walking the half mile to the Hanover golf course and setting traps in
the woods and running trails.

Rebecca suggested he use a snow
blower to clear the trail to the course.  The trick worked perfectly.  Greg
blazed the path to his hunting area, leaving the blower under a tarp at the
course.  When it snowed, he trudged over in his snow shoes and used the blower
to clear the path on his return trip.

Greg was off on a hunting trip to
the golf course, and Rebecca was washing clothes in the bathtub when a high
pitched noise, like the whine of a dirt bike, hummed through the walls of the
cottage.  She rushed to the window and watched two people on snowmobiles move in
front of her house before making a left turn down Choate road.  The snow mobiles
dragged sleds with large packages. 

Rebecca was alone, and quickly considered
her options.

“What should I do?”  She said out
loud.  “Get in clothes and make a break for a dorm, waiting for Greg to get
back?  Hide in here?  Do I think they saw or smelled the smoke from our fires? 
Of course they did, or they will eventually.  They are going to come back.  I
know they are going to come back.  What should I do?  Think Rebecca.”  She was
trapped.  If she fled, her fresh footprints in the snow would lead anyone to
her new location.  Her best bet was to hide, and hope it bought her enough time
for Greg to return with his gun.  If she stayed in the house, the only tracks
out the door were Greg’s.  The snowmobilers might not search the house at all,
believing the sole inhabitant was outside.

She heard the whine again.  It got
louder as the snow mobiles came back in her direction.  She did not look out
the window.  She grabbed her heavy coat and ran upstairs to one of the wood
storage rooms.  While loading the upstairs bedroom, Rebecca made a hiding place
large enough for two people.  She put a four person dining room table against
the wall at the start of the second row of wood.  She stacked wood on top of
the table, and blended a panic spot into the five rows filling the room.  She
left a gap at the end of the rows on the far wall that was large enough for her
small frame to squeeze through.  If someone looked in the room, even peered
over the top of the wood stacks, the rows appeared solid, concealing her
hideout.  She kept two bottles of water, unfortunately now frozen, and several
protein bars in the hiding spot.  She had a lantern, but did not turn it on. 
Half a dozen fleece blankets were folded neatly under the table.

She huddled in her hiding spot. 
Her breath was visible in the cold upstairs.  She was panting, nervous.  “Calm
down, Rebecca.  No one will find you.  If you control your breathing, stop
making noise, you are safe until Greg comes back.”  She gained her composure. 

There was a loud knock on the
door.  She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would make the people go away. 
She knew the smoke coming out of the chimney meant they were coming inside the
house.

The outer door opened and Rebecca
heard feet stomping in the mud room.  The inside door opened and a voice called
out.  “Greg?  Greg, are you in here?  It’s Uncle Hank and Uncle Paul. “

Rebecca opened her eyes and began
to yell.  “Oh my god, you’re alive!  I didn’t believe him when he said you’d be
alive, and you’re really alive!”  She shimmied out from under the table and
around the wood stacks to run down the stairs.

Paul and Hank stood in the
vestibule, stopping when they heard a female voice.  “Uh, who are you?”  Paul
asked.  He was covered in snow.  He wore a neoprene face mask, large ski
gloves, and a black ski suit.  He pulled goggles off his eyes to display a
bearded and pink wind burned face.

“My name is Rebecca.  I’m a friend
of Greg’s.  He’s out hunting, but should be back soon.  Oh my god, you’re both
alive.  Come in!  Come in!  Shut the door, get warm by the fire.”

“Wait, who are you again?  Greg is
hunting?”  Paul was dumbfounded. 

Hank pushed passed his brother and
into the house.  He was cold and did not care about Paul’s questions.

“My name is Rebecca.  I met Greg in
Concord on his trip from Hightower to here.  We came to Hanover in November.”

The men were stone faced.  They did
not expect to find someone other than Greg, let alone a young girl.  They stood
by the front door, now shut, unsure of what to do next.

“I don’t have cooties, you can come
in and warm yourselves by the fire.  I have some water boiling.  Would you like
tea or hot chocolate?  I can make soup too.”  Rebecca switched into her no-nonsense
get things done mode.  These were Greg’s Uncles, they were family.  She needed
to get them inside by the fire to warm up.  “Where did you come from?”

Paul relaxed and embraced the
situation.  “Hi Rebecca, my name is Paul.  This is my brother Hank.  We are
Greg’s uncles.  Anything warm sounds great, but if you have chicken noodle
soup, I’ll take you up on that.”  He started taking off his snow gear; gloves,
hat, and suit.  “Is there a place I should put this stuff to dry?  I hate to
get the living room floor wet.”

“I’ll take them and put them in the
kitchen.  The woodstove will dry your clothes quickly.  Please take off your
boots and leave them in the mud room shoe bin.”  Rebecca held her arms out to
receive the snow covered clothes.

“I can do it, just show me the
way.”  Paul elbowed Hank, who was still standing near the door in shock.

“Nice to meet you, Rebecca.  My
name is Hank.  Soup sounds fantastic.  Lead us to the kitchen.”

The men took off their boots before
following the young girl.

Paul and Hank looked around the
living room.  It was immaculate and tastefully decorated.  Two sofas ran perpendicular
to a warm fire along with two comfortable chairs at the top of the formation facing
the blaze.  A coffee table sat between the sofas.  A game of Monopoly appeared
to be in progress.  Hank looked right and saw the two beds, neatly made, in the
bedroom next to the front door.

Rebecca turned and said, “this way
to the kitchen.”  The men followed her, going through the dining room, or the
bathing room as Greg and Rebecca now called it.

“Is that a bathtub?”  Hank asked
her.

“It is.  We use it as a washing tub
too, clothes not dishes.  We set it up next to the fire so we could be warm
when we took baths.” 

The door to the kitchen was open and
the woodstove assisted in heating the rest of the house.  The open door also
kept the kitchen from getting too hot.  Rebecca went to a cupboard and pulled
down two cans of chicken noodle soup.  She casually grabbed a pot, poured the
soup, and set the pot on the stove to warm.

The kitchen was as clean and
orderly as the rest of the house.  Paul pointed to the rain barrel on the
counter next to the tub sink.  “That’s a great idea, using a rain barrel for
running water.”

“Thanks!  It was one of my first
fixes to the ‘no running water’ problem.  This house is great for the winter, but
no water is kind of a pain.  I doubt we would have running water if we were in
a normal house.  It’s been so cold, the pipes would have frozen at some point
along the way.”  She paused.  “Oh, if you have to use the restroom, we have an
outhouse right next to the back door.  It’s cold, but not as bad during the day
when the sun heats it.  It’s right next to the house.”  She pointed towards the
back door.  “Not too far a walk.”

“Rebecca, how old are you?”  Paul
was the only one talking.  Hank was too confused and flabbergasted to engage.

“I’m 13, but have a birthday in
April, so I’m practically 14.”

“And you and Greg live here by
yourselves?  No one else is here?”  Paul asked.

“I know, I look young, but I’m
pretty driven.  Yes, we came here in November, as I said, and were able to set
up this house before it got too cold.  We tried the other house, the one you
all grew up in, but it wasn’t practical.  There was no way we could heat the
rooms, it was too big.  Greg remembered this cottage, his mom made him take a
tour one summer.  It’s perfect.”  She stirred the soup, which boiled quickly
over the already hot woodstove.  “There is the rack we put up for drying
clothes.”  She pointed towards a wooden dowel with several plastic hangers.  
“See the hangers?  You can put your wet clothes up there.  Things dry quickly
in the kitchen with the woodstove.”

Paul walked over to hang his winter
clothes on the line.  Hank stood in his full gear, unsure about what to do.

“May I ask a favor?”  Rebecca said,
looking at both of them. 

Paul, focusing on hanging his
clothes, answered “Sure.”

“Can I give you hugs?  I’m so happy
to see you.  Greg talks about you endlessly.  I didn’t believe you could be
alive.  It’s been so hard doing all this by ourselves.”  Her composure was
gone.  Despite her high I.Q., the 13 year old girl came through.  She started
crying as she stirred the soup.

Hank, a father to four, knew what
to do for the first time since he walked through the front door.  He walked
over and put his arms around her.  “As glad as you are to see us, we’re even
more excited to meet you.  It’s okay.  You don’t have to do this alone
anymore.  Paul and I are here.”  Rebecca held him tightly, wiping tears and her
running nose against his jacket.

“I’m so sorry.”  She said, jumping
back.  “I snotted up your coat.”

“Rebecca, I had four daughters. 
You just made my year.  I miss moments like this.  You can snot up my shirt,
coat, or sweater anytime you want.  You’re part of the family now.”  He held
his arms open for her to give him another hug.  Rebecca was sobbing
uncontrollably.  She stepped into his arms to continue their hug.

Rebecca savored the hug for several
moments.  She backed away, taking a tissue from her pocket to wipe her face. 
Hank unzipped the jacket and hung it on the drying rack.

Rebecca poured the soup into two
bowls and handed each of the men a spoon.  “Do you want to eat in here or in
the living room?”

“Paul?  What do you think?  I’d
rather stand in here and eat.  I’ve been hunched over that snowmobile for over
two hours.”  Hank stripped down to his base-layer of khakis and a long sleeved
silk shirt he found in a Rutland sporting goods store.

“Yeah, stretching out a little
sounds great.”  Paul took the soup off the counter.  “Thank you.”  He said
genuinely.  “And to answer your question, we came from Rutland this morning. 
We’ve been stuck there since mid-December, trapped on the other side of the
mountains after the first big snow.  We decided to pack up and make a try at
coming over on snowmobiles, and well, it worked.”  He took a sip of soup, and
his insides warmed instantly.  “I’ll be honest, it was kind of fun too, at
least until my face was so cold it felt like it was going to fall off, then,
not so much fun.”

“You’ve been over at Kilington this
whole time?  That’s amazing.  We heard a gunshot back in November.  Was that
you?”  Rebecca hoped to solve the mystery of the lone gunshot.

“Not us, but that gives us hope
there are other people alive.  I mean, not more hope that meeting you, since
you are a non-Dixon survivor.”  Hank took big slurps of soup between replies. 

“I didn’t realize you were so
hungry, would you like some bread?  We have half a loaf from last night.  I can
toss it in the oven to warm up.”  Rebecca noticed the speed with which Hank was
eating.

“I’ll take it room temp, I’m
starved.  Is there any jam or jelly?”  He asked.

Rebecca retrieved both from a
cabinet.

“Fortnum and Mason strawberry
preserves!  Where did you get this?”  Hank held the English preserves in his
hand.

“There was a William Sonoma at the
Concord mall.  I cleaned them out after the rapture.  I have a bunch of their
pancake and waffle mixes too.”  She smiled at his excitement.

“You’re a keeper.  You can stay. 
Well, I guess this is your house, so of course you can stay, but I mean as part
of the family.”  They laughed as Hank ripped off a piece of bread.  He stared
at the chunk for a second, stunned by the realization it was made by either a
13 or 14 year old.