Dead Reckoning (19 page)

             
“Well, whatever Miss Jill says,” I said, smiling to the little girl.

             
As I sipped the broth, I looked around at the variety of teepees and other haphazard structures that constituted the encampment. The rain came a little steadier and more snowflakes mixed in. I noticed the cold and looked down and saw that, to my shock, I was wearing one of their ponchos!

             
“Do you like it?” asked an old woman. “I made that one, just for you.”

             
“It’s lovely. Thank you,” I said, trying desperately to hide my insincerity. The ponchos were ugly as sin, but I had to admit it was warm, and somehow waterproof. “Where are my clothes?”

             
“They’re sitting in the teepee. We cleaned and dried them.”

             
I thanked them again. Some of the women got up and moved into other teepees, out of the rain.

             
“You don’t have to be scared, mister,” a little girl said as she peeled potatoes.

             
“I’m not scared, sweetheart. I’m just a little confused. Where are my friends?”

             
“They are down at your boat,” said yet another woman. “It’s almost done.” This woman was heavier than the others but still fairly petite by most standards. I realized that all these people were very skinny. This woman had very clean hair and was an earthy sort of beautiful, the sort of beautiful that most women would die to have as their starting point. To her, it was the end point.

             
“What are you people? What is all this?”

             
The old woman explained how they had gotten there. They came from all walks of life, but collectively decided that they wanted a better life. They had been preparing to move away from civilization for a long time, but The Red Plague gave them just the push they needed. They sold off all their belongings and moved out to this island. There were 179 of them—soon to be 180 according to Krystal. They all seemed very nice.

             
It suddenly became more snow than rain, but the fire was making my shins hot. So I pushed my chair back from the fire. The effort sent a spike of pain through my brain, and I winced.

             
“Where are the others?” I asked.

             
“Hunting, fishing, gathering. A work party is building a lodge about a half mile that way.” The old woman pointed to what I thought was north.

             
“Do you want to live here mister?” the girl asked.

             
“It seems very nice,” I said. “But, I am trying to find my family. I lived overseas when all this happened, and they were in Seattle. I am trying to get back to them.”

             
“Do you think they are alive?” she asked before being shushed by her sister.

             
“That’s ok,” I said to the sister. “I hope they’re ok but I have no way to know. I have to go find out.”

             
The little girl got up, came over, and sat in my lap.

“I hope they’re ok too,” she said, putting her head to my chest.

              “We all do,” the old woman said. “But you know, you would be safer here by the sound of things.”

             
“In some ways, but not others,” I replied.

             
The woman asked me what I meant. I told her that I thought the climate was going to grow much colder. I pointed out that it was already snowing on that coastal island in the middle of the summer. They all seemed completely unfazed by the news.

             
“Frank will take care of us,” the woman said.

             
Frank was a scientist and their leader.

             
I grew tired again as the natural medicinal cocktail began to work. With my pain gone, my face felt flush. I suddenly felt less in control than minutes earlier. I wanted to say more about the climate, but I wasn’t sure if I could speak without slurring. I yawned and tried to get up—I needed to lie down again. My legs felt like noodles. Krystal held my hand to steady me and led the way into the teepee.

             
“It’s the cohosh,” she whispered with a giggle. With any other people, I would have been concerned.

             
When I awakened the third time, it was dark and I was alone. The smell of wood smoke hung thickly in the air. I generally felt better, albeit slightly hung over from the soup.

             
The fire inside my teepee had died to coals, but I remained toasty warm. I stood up and stepped outside on still wobbly legs. I considered calling out for someone, but large bonfires raged nearby and I thought I could make it. I heard music from the fire to my right and chose to go that way. As I approached, I noticed large skewers with fish splayed out on them like fans ringing the fire. I had seen that before at a touristy Indian salmon bake at Blake Island State Park near Seattle. Steam rose from the fillets and a sweet, smoky fish smell filled the air. I noticed the faint aroma of marijuana again.

             
I hesitated to move into the fray due to an irrational phobia of mine: fear of groups of strangers. I always worried about what strangers thought as I walked amongst them and searched for somewhere to sit or people I knew. I reassured myself that, so far, everyone had been more than nice, and I just walked straight in. As I entered the light, a man sitting at the first table greeted me by name and jumped up to hold my arm. He led me to a table.

             
I found my three friends seated with two other strangers. I sat next to Sonny, and after the greetings, he offered me some fish. It was salmon, and it was delicious. Jill handed me some sort of cooked or boiled plant—seaweed maybe.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Eat it!” she exclaimed.

Startled by her tone, I did so, and it was horribly bitter. They asked me how I was feeling, and I lied that I was fine. I learned that we had been on the island for three days, and the plan was to leave the next day.

Sonny handed me a wooden cup.

“What is this?”

“A sort of beer they’re trying to make. It comes from some plant around here.”

“A
sort
of beer they’re
trying
to make. I don’t think so.”

“Good choice,” Jill said.

“It’s fine,” Sonny said. “Look it doesn’t affect me at all,” he stood up and stumbled back into a seated position.

Jill gave him a sour look.

The music stopped, and the man named Frank stood up. He was a strapping sort and wore an orange canvas hunting vest instead of the standard issue camp poncho. Given his short stature and petite frame, I wasn’t prepared for what came out of him when he began speaking.

“On their last night with us, I just wanted to wish our new friends good sailing,” the deep voice boomed.  “May your waters be smooth and your wind friendly, and if you don’t find what you are looking for down south, please come back. You are always welcome here.”

Sonny, not usually one for words, stood up to reply. It must have been planned that way.

“We just wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done for us. We could never have fixed the RY without you. And I personally wanted to thank you for the beer and, uh, other stuff.” Many laughed, and children whispered questions to their parents or older siblings and were rebuked.

“I’ve made a lot of friends here,” Sonny continued. “And in other circumstances I would stay. I am committed to seeing this through, but you may see me again.” The onlookers greeted that statement with cheers.

Frank came over to sit with us and took a seat on a small bench with Sonny. Given his small frame,
he fit perfectly well there. Frank had dark hair under his hunting cap, and his thin moustache and pock-marked face reminded me of a porn star from the seventies.

“I hope you are feeling better,” Frank said to me, his voice equally imposing close up.

“I am. And thank you so much for your hospitality.”

“Your friends have told me much about you and your journey. You’ve been through quite a lot. I am sure you will make it, and I sincerely hope that you find your family safe and well.”

“We know it’s a long shot,” I responded. “What do you know about what has happened on the mainland?”

“Less than you, I think. We came out here right at the beginning. We have no contact with the outside world, and you’re the first people we’ve seen since.”

“Do you really think you can make it here?” I asked.

He told me that they had everything they needed. Among their numbers were people skilled and knowledgeable in engineering, construction, survival, hunting, and many other useful disciplines. I wasn’t concerned about that.

“What did you do before, Frank?”

“I was a molecular biologist for a major industrial firm. I became disillusioned with corporatism and in researching an alternative, came in contact with some members of this group. Long story short, I was honored to be selected as the leader of the group when the shit hit the fan.”

“You must know that it’s going to get very cold this winter. I mean it’s already snowing here, and it’s July.”

It turned out that I wasn’t telling him anything that he didn’t already know. They had surmised the same things we had, and despite the obvious difficulties that lie ahead, they were already locked into their course and simply had to make the best of it.

“The ocean will moderate the climate here,” Frank said, “But we are laying away all the resources we can to prepare for the long winter.”

“And hopefully the experts were right about global warming,” he said.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I quipped. “As a meteorologist, I know that the only thing we’re sure of is that we aren’t sure of anything.”

“I don’t know
, the consensus was pretty strong. All the experts agreed,” Frank said.

“Well, that’s what we were told. I’m just not as enamored with experts as everyone else—any experts. Experts agree about all sorts of things that don’t turn out to be right. I could give you a list a mile long, but, suffice it to say, there was a time when all the experts agreed that the earth was flat.”

Frank laughed. “Touché! I guess we’ll find out.”

“Indeed we will,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure that we have cut our carbon emissions now—a lot! Unfortunately, this isn’t a controlled experiment.” I pointed toward the sky. “I think that will have a lot more to do with it than CO2.”

Everyone continued talking, but I zoned out and just stared at the fire. I had to admit that even though on some level I envied the people of Gilligan’s Island, I longed to be back on Kwaj. If all of this had happened just a few weeks sooner, I would be there with my family right now. I would have had everything—the safety and solace that these people enjoyed along with warm weather and an abundance of food. It had occurred to me early in our trip that we might be able to get our families and go right back out to Kwaj. However, after all that had happened, I knew the odds of us making it were slim.

Come to think of it, I had been so focused on getting back to my family and worrying about their safety, that I hadn’t spent much time thinking about what I would actually do once I got there. My friend Sean McMasters popped into my head. His dad had a ranch in the Olympic Mountains not far from where Kate’s parents lived. He mentioned to me one time that the ranch was his bug out spot. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I suddenly wondered if he made good on that plan. If we couldn’t m
ake a go of it at Kate’s parents’ house, maybe we would check that out. I knew for sure that he would welcome us. He was good people as my grandfather used to say.

All that worry made my head hurt. The booming sound of Frank’s voice startled me out of thought: “Matt. Are you sure you are ok? You don’t look so good.”

“I think we should go now,” I blurted out.

The group stared at me. Frank finally responded: “That would be suicide without instruments in the dark. These passages are filled with sand bars and rocky reefs that you can only see in daylight.”

Jeff and Sonny helped me back to the teepee. Jill came in just before I drifted off with some more herbs.

“Do you really trust that stuff?” I asked.

“They have regular medicines but not really anything that would help you. They insisted that we try, but we don’t want to take what they have, especially if it won’t help. These natural medicines are as good for you as anything.”

Jill held her hand on my forehead
, and it felt red hot on my skin. She was full of life again, a bundle of energy. Surely she still suffered inside, but she had a purpose, and sometimes that’s all anyone needs.

“Jill,” I whispered. “I think you should stay here.”

She stood silently feeling my forehead. Then her fingers searched along my scalp to where the stitches were. She delicately explored the wound with her fingers. She walked to the other side of the teepee to retrieve something and returned.  She stuck her finger in a jar and pulled out a dollop of some pine scented salve. She silently rubbed it over my stitches with great tenderness.