Sadie Walker Is Stranded (12 page)

Shane had trouble falling asleep. I wondered if maybe so many days on a boat made it difficult for him to doze off without the motion of the waves. He came with me to the watch, lying on his side on a blanket. I combed through his hair with my fingers, something that usually helped him get to sleep, while Moritz—at my prodding—regaled us with stories about his treasure hunts for paintings, and more specifically, his time in Colorado with Allison and her pals.

“Liberty Village,” he began, fussing idly with the frayed end of his teal scarf, “well, it reminded me of those American forts in old western films. Very … pointy. Many gates and walls, sort of …
blast
it, what’s the word…”

“Frontier?” I asked, the first word that popped to mind.

“Yes! Exactly that. Frontier.”

“Did you see cowboys there?” Shane asked. I laughed and gently pinched his ear.

“Somebody is supposed to be getting to sleep.”

“I did not see any cowboys, no,” Moritz replied gently. “Although they did have many guns. Just getting inside was quite an ordeal. One feels like a criminal, all of the gates and searches … But the town still stands, so such precautions must be working.”

Under my hand, Shane nodded.

“They had several paintings of interest, though some were not of professional quality. Some they used in the school and others they kept safe in a vault…”

“They have a school?” Shane asked, mystified.

“Yes, a large one. I’m afraid it’s all very boring and normal there. Children must go to school and do their chores and help their brothers and sisters with homework.”

I smiled, knowing Moritz was teasing Shane. It worked.

“Hmph,” Shane mumbled. “Boring doesn’t sound
so
bad.”

“Well,” Moritz said, sighing, “the children there don’t like their chores and sometimes they don’t want to go to school at all. You might appreciate it, but they still want to fake ill and skip class and play football all day.”

“Shane doesn’t like football,” I put in gently.

“Sure I do! I’ve just never gotten to play it right.”

And by right, he meant with other kids.

“It is scary there, too, sometimes.” Moritz frowned, a crease forming in his brow. “Their parents go off to hunt or to recover supplies from other towns and they have to stay with a neighbor or in the community building. Not everything is school and football.”

Even I had to admit that what he was describing sounded heavenly by comparison.

“Anyway,” he said, hurrying on, “I met Allison and Collin at the gates. They gave me a tour of the town, showed me the new buildings they were constructing and the new fences they were making for fields and gardens. I had supper in their home with a lovely fellow called Ned. He has boys around your age.”

“Do they go to school?” Shane asked.

“Almost every day, yes. They took me to the schoolhouse. It’s not very big, but they have teachers for different subjects, and they do what they can with limited resources.” He lowered his voice and listened, as I did, to the quiet wheeze emerging in Shane’s breathing. Soon, he would be asleep.

“They had the Cassatt in the vault. She was beautiful; even damaged she was … radiant. You wouldn’t believe the treasures in that room. I could have stayed for days just pouring over them, looking for masterpieces. But the Cassatt was the focus and my reason for being there.” This time when he paused, Shane was snoring quietly.

“I think he’s out,” I murmured, still combing his curls.

“I apologize. I think my story might have upset him.”

“It’s not your fault. Some people have it better, he knows that.”

The fire crackled behind us, the light seeping to the fringes of the forest.

“Noah leant me some books,” I whispered, feeling charitable now that we were even more of a tribe. “You should give them a read. Helps pass the time.”

“That would be lovely, yes.” Moritz smiled, leaning back and propping his hands on his knees. He was careful to keep his voice down for Shane’s sake. “I had quite a collection of books. Leaving them behind in Seattle was … unfortunate. Some were antiques. One,” he laughed, fondly, “was a gift from your Allison upon leaving.”

“Really?” I perked up. “What did she give you?”

He smirked, a lock of greasy hair falling in front of his eyes as he murmured, “
Twilight
.”

“
What?
” Yeah, that earned an incredulous guffaw. “Talk about getting gipped…”

“Not so,” Moritz replied. “She asked me to take it as a personal favor, citing an adversity to burning books. Collin accused her of snobbery. I was more than happy to take it off her hands. In doing so, I think I spared them a bit of domestic tension, or perhaps I’m attributing too much to my small gesture.” He glanced over his shoulder at the shelter. “Perhaps young Noah would have enjoyed it.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

“A romantic distraction might suit him … Might suit all of us.”

“Have you actually read that thing?” I asked, chuckling.

“No,” Moritz answered. “The journey to Seattle left little time for relaxation.”

“Let’s just say I don’t generally approve of book-burning either, but in this case it might be justified…”

He frowned, shaking his head lightly. “All books are to be treasured now, regardless of … well, regardless, yes? I have to side with Collin in this instance.”

“Says the art critic.”

“Says the snob.”

I laughed, remembering to keep my voice down at the last second. “Pot calling the kettle, etcetera.”

Moritz shrugged. “Perhaps.”

He stood, creeping to the fire to add another branch to the flames. My eyes swept the edge of the woods, looking for spare wood in case we ran out in the night. I couldn’t help but remember earlier that afternoon—while we gathered firewood, Cassandra had acted strangely. At first she had insisted on repeating her little mantra about boys needing looking after, but then a switch got thrown and she wanted to chat my ear off. She blathered on and on, opening up to me as if we’d been friends for years catching up over a cappuccino and scones. And I was right—she was a mother. She had lost a son in The Outbreak. It had to be rough to see Shane, to be reminded constantly of the child she could no longer hug and kiss.

Moritz sat back down, wincing when a twig cracked under his foot and Shane stirred.

“You have kids?” I asked Moritz. It just slipped out. He didn’t skip a beat.

“No,” he replied, “and no wife. I kept myself busy and traveled. I traveled often. It was a solitary life, but peaceful. I think I was quite happy, comfortable, but perhaps I am remembering it wrong—rose-colored glasses and all that. Collecting garbage seems glamorous by today’s standards.” He paused, and then looked over at me. The firelight danced amber in his eyes. “What makes you ask?”

“Cassandra. She had kids. She told me all about them,” I said. It was getting colder. I looked over my shoulder at the fire longingly. “Did you ever … I don’t know, want a family?” Some of his snooping ways were rubbing off on me. He frowned.

“I
have
a family. Brothers, a mother and father … And no, I never felt compelled to start one my own. And that’s a good thing, too, wouldn’t you say? I cannot imagine looking after children, not now. God. Especially not now.” He blanched, quickly adding, “I didn’t mean to … Not that Shane is…”

“He’s my nephew, Moritz, but I’m all he’s got. So he’s mine. Not even technically. He’s just mine.”

“And that makes him very lucky.”

I frowned, looking down at the blond curls slipping through my fingers. “I don’t know about that. We’ll see.”

A quiet rustling in the trees at the edge of the beach followed my response. Moritz held up his hand, calling for silence. The fire snapped, sparked and then the leaves shook again. I felt a cold slithering crawl up my spine. I picked up the knife, shifting away from Shane. It was a long blade, but it felt totally inadequate given what might be coming through the trees. I actually held my breath and hoped for a zombie. The undead were slow, clumsy, I might be able to handle one or two, but if a fucking huge bear charged out of the darkness we would be torn to pieces.

Moritz grabbed my forearm and we stood, slowly, me dropping into a kung fu stance with the knife. I’m sure I looked preposterous, but the rustling was getting louder and any moment it would break through the branches and onto the beach. I stepped over Shane’s sleeping form, putting myself between him and whatever lurked in the underbrush.

“Fuck,” I breathed, feeling my heartbeat reverberate throughout my entire body. It was close now, so close that I could actually see the bushes shake and shiver from the rim of the firelight. A black, furry form tumbled out of the undergrowth, pine needles and twigs matted to his back.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” I nearly fell over with relief, grabbing Moritz’s sleeve for balance. “It’s a fucking raccoon.
Fucker
.”

“Sneaky bugger,” he muttered. The raccoon righted himself and shook out his fur, giving Moritz an indignant sniff, as if he took the insult personally. Then he looked us over and slunk back into the darkness, a disappointed slump to his little shoulders. He had hoped to find a bunch of sleeping humans, not an armed guard.

Little did we know, he wouldn’t be the last raccoon visitor to our camp, not by a long shot. We woke the next morning, to our horror, to find that we had been cleaned out. Fleeced. The raccoons had taken everything. Either we hadn’t heard the sardine cans or they had figured out how to slide underneath.

Generously, they left one half-eaten apple, just to let us know that they weren’t completely heartless. Also they had managed not to tip over our cupped leaves. The leaves had filled with drinkable water over night, so that was one pleasant thing.

Moritz stood pale and nervous to receive our combined judgment. He was the last person to take the watch.

“I fell asleep,” he admitted, scrunching his eyes up as if he stood in front of a firing squad. At the very least, I appreciated his honesty. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I don’t know how, I just…”

“It’s okay,” I piped up before the blame game could start. There was no point in harping on it. “We’ll make the watches shorter, rotate more often.”

“That’s just dandy,” Andrea replied, hands on hips for extra sass factor. “But what about now? Right now? There’s nothing to eat!”

“We can fish,” I said. Everyone fell silent. They—and especially Andrea—glared as if I had just suggested we get naked and sacrifice Noah to the gods in exchange for some miracle tacos. Shane especially looked put out by this suggestion. He took my hand, tugging on it urgently.

“The water is shallower,” I added, “and we can appoint someone to keep an eye on the line.”

“She’s right,” Moritz said. His support would’ve meant more if he hadn’t just fucked up our whole food situation. Still, his agreement at least made the others stop scowling at me. “Now that we know it can happen we’ll just be more careful.”

“Like the raccoons,” I said. “We’re not going to get everything right the first day. Besides, there’s other food. We’re not on a boat, there’s a whole forest out there.” I waved my hand at the woods sloping up to our left. There were no
oohs
or
aahs
of appreciation.

“Right, of course, silly me. I was just operating under the assumption that you forgot your hunting rifle—I mean, unless my eyes deceive me and those leggings of yours are actually a clown car,” Andrea said. I wouldn’t take the bait. I had no interest in fighting for alpha female status. Moritz liked to take my side, which meant he was guilty by association.

“There are berries,” I said.

“That could be poisonous,” she quickly riposted.

“And there are insects.”

“That can have parasites.”

Tom Hanks was lucky; all he had to reach a consensus with was a goddamn volley ball.

“We can set some primitive snares,” I said, exasperated. “I did it when I was twelve. I’m sure we can manage it now. And,” I hurried on before she could interrupt, “standing around pissing and moaning about it isn’t going to get food in our stomachs any faster. So either give me a better idea or start fishing.”

Andrea nodded, fidgeting with her ponytail as she always did when she was upset. I motioned for her to follow me and we separated ourselves from the group. We walked to the water’s edge, just close enough for the surf to lap out our toes.

“What’s going on with you?” I asked, lowering my voice.

“I don’t … know.”

“Arturo?” I asked. She nodded. Her eyes were getting runny, overflowing with tears. Oh dear. She hadn’t grieved yet, not properly. Everything was so rushed, so dire, there was never any time to let the feeling of loss really sink in. I wanted to tell her that I understood. But instead I said, “You’re strong. He was too. Make him proud, okay? And we’ll look out for you, we all will.”

Not exactly an Oscar moment, but it worked. Andrea drew herself up, which wasn’t to any great height, but she had the kind of face and eyes you paid attention to. People turned to look when she walked into a room and I looked to her now to keep it together.

“Okay?” I asked, looping an arm around her shoulder.

We walked back to the group like that, with her sniffling to cover up her brief breakdown.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, pulling focus. “Noah and Moritz, you finish the shelter. We’ll have to come up with a better system to keep the vermin out. Maybe we can line a pit and put the food in there and then weight down a cover. Cassandra, could you start on that?”

Cassandra nodded. There was no shovel, but there were a few good-sized pieces of driftwood around that might serve as a useful pick. I told her so in an undertone. She beamed up at me and nodded fast enough to scramble an egg.

“I’ll fish,” Andrea stated. She was back to her old self.

“You need me to watch?” I asked.

“I’ll manage.”

I hadn’t volunteered for any of the tasks but I had an elaborate one in mind. Fishing would work but we would need more than that. I went to the fire and fed it. I showed Shane how to poke at the fire to keep it going and how to add smaller kindling to the bottom without scorching his fingers. He followed my movements closely with his eyes and then mimicked them, demonstrating he had listened. Without asking, he kept an eagle-eyed watch on the fire, tending to it whenever the flames gave the slightest dip. Having a straightforward job seemed to put him at ease, and he sat cross-legged a foot from the flames, shoulders straight and rigid, as if taking on
Mission: Impossible
. I wondered what was going on in that little golden head, and if maybe he really was acting out his part in a pretend drama.