The Last Tribe (58 page)

“I agree.”  John told her.  “Did you
ever watch any of the survivalist shows?”

“The reality show about people
voting each other off?”  She asked.

“No, the ones where they would drop
people, usually one guy, maybe a couple of people, in a remote location and he
or they would need to survive for a few days, maybe a week.   Did you ever see
those?”

“The man who fought the wild?”  She
replied back.

“Yes, those are the shows,
exactly.  Anyway, whenever they are on a tropical island where it isn’t cold? 
It is child’s play for those people.  As long as they have water, they can go
forever on a tropical island.  There are fish, they catch crabs, they have
bananas and pineapples.  It was almost a joke.”  John left the runway area,
travelling through the old checkpoint and back onto the public road leading out
of the airport and to the highway.

“Put that against the ones where
they are stuck in Canada in the winter?  There is no food, there is almost no
heat, they struggle to find firewood and fuel.  It’s scary to think about us
trying to get through a harsh winter three of four years down the road.  All of
our canned or boxed food is gone, and we are relying on crops and canning,
maybe hunting to feed a group of at least 22 people?”  They turned out of the
airport toward the highway to Boston.  “Solange, I think we need to take this
flight to Hawaii.  I don’t think it’s a choice.  In my mind, it is get to
Hawaii or die in five years.”

He turned up the entrance ramp to
the highway.

“As I said.”  Solange told him.  “I
think we need to go.” 

It was 7:30am as they made their
way towards Boston.  In just thirty minutes they had secured fuel and found two
planes suitable for a flight to a Hawaiian island.  The Manchester runway was
clear, and their destiny would be set if the fuel worked.

“We have a few minutes.”  John said
to her.  “How about talking about ‘us’ for the rest of the trip?” 

“I enjoy the sound of ‘us.’  What
would you like to discuss?”

“You don’t think the age difference
is an issue?”  John asked her, baffled that this beautiful woman in her
twenties kissed him a half hour ago. 

“I do not have many options.  Your
brother Todd is taken.  You are the next logical choice.”

“So I’m just a consolation prize?”

Solange laughed.

“You are a strong, confident man,
who rescued me from a bad situation.  You are a good leader for our group, and
you give off a masculine quality that I find handsome.  I have never dated an
older man, but I find you interesting and attractive, and I want to spend more
time with you.  I find myself missing you when we are apart.  I did not propose
to you, but I would like to explore a relationship and see where we might go.” 
She rested her hand on his thigh.

“I married the love of my life when
I was in college.  I haven’t looked at another woman since then.  I do like
you, and I am attracted to you, and I find myself drawn to you when we are in
the same company, but you have to take it slow with me.  I’m not ready for
anything fast, and I want to make sure my boys are ready for me to date.”

“Of course.”  Solange said.  “So if
I asked you to pull the car over and fold down the backseats?”

John looked at her, his head
turning away from the road.  She rubbed his leg higher.  He lifted his foot off
the accelerator and the Hummer slowed to a stop on the highway.

30 minutes later the two lay
together under a LL Bean flannel duvet cover, basking in the glow of their new
relationship.  “So that’s what you consider taking it slow?  Interesting.”

“Life is too short for slow.”  She
faced away from him, her naked body pressed against him.  Her eyes were closed
and she wore a grin.  Her head was on a soft flannel pillow packed for their
night in Boston.  The car sat in the middle of highway 493 still running.  John
reached up and turned off the engine. 

The sun was higher in the sky, but
the outdoor temperature crept into to Hummer.  Solange pulled him tightly around
her to keep warm.

John was conflicted.  He still wore
his wedding ring, honoring his wife of over twenty years, but that life was
gone.  He felt a pull to Solange, a desire for her as a woman, but also for the
new life she represented, a life of love, respect, and passion.  He decided to
enjoy the moment, to live in the now, and he squeezed her when she pulled him
closer.

“Do you mind if we take a nap
together?  Just for a little while?”  She asked him softly.

He kissed her on the back of her
neck.  “We have all the time in the world.” 

She gave a satisfied sound and
drifted off to sleep.

They awoke an hour later, making
love again in the cold car under a warm flannel blanket.  After a few moments
of tenderness, she asked him to start the car and heat the interior so she
could get dressed.

“But I’m cold too, why do I have to
start the car?”  He asked her, as he slipped out from under the warmth of the
double flannel sheet.

“Because you are the man, and that
is what men do.” 

“I see how this relationship is
going.”  He said, pulling on his clothes as quickly as he could to escape the
cold air of the car.

“I think you will do just fine.” 
She said from under the blanket.

He knew she was right, and he sat
patiently as the inside warmed enough for her to climb out from under the
covers.   John watched her get dressed, looking at her body as it went from
naked to wearing tight jeans and a cashmere sweater.  He enjoyed watching her. 
Solange noticed and smiled, slowing down to let him soak it all in.  She knew
she was beautiful, desirable to men.  She had always been, but she rarely
returned affections.  She was genuinely taken with this man, and she let him
enjoy her however he wanted.  If he liked watching her dress, she would dress
slowly. 

“Stop looking at me that way,
unless you want to turn the car off again.”  She made her way from the back seat
to the front.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, you’re very
pretty, and I, well.”  He stammered like a teenager.

“I enjoy your gaze.  I am just
warning you that your gaze has consequences.” 

John took a moment to compose
himself.  “Okay, let’s focus on our job for a moment.  We need to get to Boston
before dark.”  He put the Hummer into drive and pushed down on the gas.  The
tires squealed as the truck jumped out of their parking spot.  A few minutes
later they were on Interstate 93 South towards Boston.

“What do you think?  Philadelphia
or Washington D.C.?”  She asked him, referencing a dead city in ruins and an
intact metropolis with survivors.

“I think Washington.  Judging from
all the military we just saw, I bet they had Boston under wraps.  I doubt it
got out of control like Philly.  Who knows, maybe that’s why the military was
staging up in Manchester instead of at Logan.”

“I have never been to Boston, and
know little about the city.  Where should we go?  Is there a good spot to light
a fire and signal the rest of the city?”

“It’s pretty spread out, but it’s
also flat.  I’ve spent some time there.  We can start in Beacon Hill or Back
Bay.  There is a big park with ponds for ducks, maybe lighting a fire will
create a scene.  We’ve gotten pretty lucky the last three times we’ve looked
for people.  Hopefully we haven’t used up all of our luck.”  He drove quickly
down the highway. 

“Let me know when you are hungry
for lunch.  Todd made a large sausage sandwich for us to share.”  She drank
from one of their water bottles and offered him a sip when she was done.  He
took the bottle and drank.

The drive from Manchester to Boston
was quick.  John unknowingly benefitted from the military keeping the highway
clear to link the airports for troop and supply movement.

John and Solange used the car time
to learn more about each other.  John knew almost nothing about Ecuador.  He
asked about her life, her family, why she was in the U.S. to study.  John
wanted to know everything. 

Solange was open about her life,
her family’s money, her privileged up-bringing.  She talked about her siblings,
her parents, her country.  She had a softer side, one that John had not seen,
and it came out as she spoke. 

Her rapture story was similar to
Jamie’s.  Solange was in school when the epidemic hit Brazil, and all
intercontinental travel stopped.  She was stuck in Richmond, Virginia at VCU,
alone, separated from everyone and everything she loved. 

“I’m sorry.”  John said to her,
putting his hand on her leg as she talked about losing her family.

“I am too.”  She did not cry. 
“What makes me most sad, what keeps me up at night when I am not exhausted from
the day, is the idea that I will never see any of it again.  I will never step
foot in my house.  I will never see my dogs, or say hello to my Nana.  I cannot
play futbol with my brothers and sisters and cousins, and I will not hug my
mother or father.  I never got to say goodbye to anything.  I was up here on an
adventure, a six month trip for fun because I am a spoiled rich girl, and my decision
to experience the United States at the wrong time means I lost the ability to
see everything and everyone I loved ever again.” 

“I think about your son Greg.  He
was at school, and did not get to say goodbye to his mother, or his friends,
but I am one step further.  I did not get to say goodbye to my homeland, my
country, my continent.”  She paused for a moment, sighing with a deep breath. 
“But I have made peace with it.  I cannot change the way my life has gone.  I
am moving forward.”  She clasped his hand, still resting on her leg.  “I have
found you.  I have found a new family, and we will make a new home.  I decided
to not feel sad about my loss, to only make my thoughts of my family and home
happy thoughts, to make their memories happy memories, honoring the time.  I
had a truly great life, and while that part is over, I can be happy it was
filled with love.”

Solange’s mixture of heartache for
the past and hope for the future was the norm among tribe.  She had her moments
of sorrow, black hours of loss and depression, but as her time with the group
continued, her optimism and spirit grew. 

“How old are you again?”  John
asked in a tone that let her know it was a rhetorical question.

“Living alone in a strange city in
a strange country adds years to your maturity.  When I say alone, I mean there
is literally no one else.”  She squeezed his hand.

Boston was on the horizon, still a
few miles away, but getting larger in the windshield.  There were neighborhoods
on either side of the highway, and the landscape turned decidedly urban.  John
and Solange continued to talk until John noticed the “Copley Square/Back Bay”
exit sign.

“That’s our exit.”  He announced. 

Solange looked to her left and saw
a large monument on a hill in an open area.  “What is that?”  She asked.  John
slowed the Hummer to get a better look. 

“It’s Bunker Hill.”  He stopped the
truck.  “It’s certainly the historical choice, and it looks like it might be
the highest point in the area.”  He took the exit onto Route 1.  John found
Boston was easy to navigate when he did not have to obey the road and highway
directions.  Ignoring one-way streets and “do not enter” signs, they pulled up
to Bunker Hill one minute later.

It was a beautiful spring day in
Boston.  The temperature was in the 50’s and a slight breeze came off the
water.  They walked up the hill to the monument, taking stock of their
situation and location.

“It’s certainly high up, but I
wouldn’t live here.  I’d be in Beacon Hill or Back Bay.  There are larger
homes, fireplaces, it’s a lot closer to those buildings.”  John pointed towards
downtown.  Solange looked around the monument.  The grass was overgrown and
full of weeds, like every other location in the world. 

“I can imagine how beautiful this
area was.”  She swept her hand across the mangy hillside.  There was trash on
the sidewalks and thick rotting leaves covered the ground.

“It is going to get worse.  The
plants are going to consume everything.  It’s another reason we have to make
our decision on where to go soon.”  He looked around the monument area.  “We
have two boxes of those starter logs, right?”

“Yes.”  She replied.

“Let’s put a fire here, leaving a
note to meet us over in the park I mentioned.  We can start a fire in the park
too.  I like this spot for a fire, but we’ll have more luck over there.”  He
pointed towards the city.  “We’re not trying to signal a ship.”  He moved his
head towards the water.  “We’re trying to find people.”

They agreed on the plan, and looked
for a way to start a signal fire. 

John clapped his hands.  “I’ve got
it.”

“What?”  Solange asked him.

“Let’s get one of the dumpsters
that are behind a restaurant or building.  We can set it out in the open, light
it on fire.  The metal will contain the flames, and hopefully there will be
enough trash to sustain the fire for a while.” 

Solange nodded, smiling as he
described his idea.  It did not take them long to locate a dumpster.  Solange
wrapped a rope around the bin and secured it to their tow hitch.  John eased
the Hummer forward and towed the dumpster the short distance to the bottom of
the monument. 

“I’m not worried about being on top
of the monument hill.  The fire is going to smoke like crazy.  I want to get it
into an open area so we don’t set the neighborhood on fire.”  John and Solange
worked well together, methodically and intelligently.  They knew they did not
have a deadline for getting this fire started.  It was only 11:30.  John
siphoned gas from a nearby car, and poured the gas into the dumpster.  The
trash was from a Bunker Hill museum located across the street from the
monument.  It contained boxes, wood frames, and plastic.  The dumpster lid was shut,
keeping out rain and snow.  The trash had not decomposed over the winter. 
Solange lit a singles newspaper from a nearby machine and threw it into the
gasoline soaked trash.  The gas caught immediately, and the signal fire pumped
thick black smoke into the air.