The Last Tribe (18 page)

“Rebecca?” Greg called out.  He was
nervous not seeing her.

“Rebecca?”  He yelled again.

“Over here!”  He heard her reply. 
“You have to see what I found.”

Greg rolled the cart to the back of
the van and walked to where he heard Rebecca’s voice.  She was standing next to
two large blue port-a-johns, leaning a hand against the one closest to her. 
She smiled from ear to ear.

“They’re both empty.  Can you
believe that?  They are both 100% empty!  Let’s get them into the van.  This is
the biggest score of the trip!”  She was excited and proud of herself.  Greg knew
the bathtub was going to trump her find, but he let her have her moment.

“No more walking into the next
house.  It’s still going to be cold, but we can set one up next to the kitchen
door, or off the side door of the house.”  Greg replied.

The one flaw with their current
house, something neither of them noticed when they decided upon living there,
homes built in 1790 did not have indoor plumbing.  Greg and Rebecca did not
have an indoor bathroom, an oversight they remedied by using the bathroom in
the sorority next door.  When the weather turned colder, the pipes would freeze
and the bathroom would be useless. The port-a-john meant they could use
facilities close to their home and remove their waste to another location.  A
nasty job, but better than letting their poop pile up.

They opened the back of the van,
pushed all their supplies towards the far wall, and made room for the large
blue toilets.  The blue plastic boxes were heavy, but by using the edge of the
truck as a fulcrum, they managed to get them into the truck bed.

“That’s enough work for today.  Did
you get the window stuff?”

“Yep” Greg replied, panting a bit. 
“I have an entire case.  I also found boxes of those ready start logs in case
we ever have an emergency and need to start a fire quickly.”  He pulled the van
door down, and walked around to the warm cab. 

“Ah, that feels good.”  Greg
slumped down into the seat.  He pulled salmon jerky out of his pocket acquired
from LL Bean, opened the bag and offered Rebecca a piece.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I got a case of this too.”

“Isn’t shopping fun?” Rebecca said
as she slipped the van into drive.

“Once again, this wasn’t shopping. 
We didn’t pay for anything.”

“Well, it sure felt like shopping.”

They chatted and ate salmon jerky
during the ride back to Hanover.  They backed the van onto the yard and around
the house, getting as close to where they wanted a bathroom as possible.  The
port-o-johns were big, heavy pieces, and it took a lot of muscle to get them
next to their back door. 

There was a small back porch
extending off the back door of the cottage.  Four steps led onto a concrete
slab.  They decided to put one of the bathrooms just off of the slab.  It was
going to be cold, but as convenient as an outhouse could be.

“It’s an improvement, that’s for
sure.  We’ll figure something else out in the spring, but for the winter?  I
think we’re good.”  Rebecca stood with her arms crossed and a smile on her
face, admiring her find.

“Okay, that’s enough posing.  You
did well.  Let’s move the van and get the rest of our stuff inside.”  Greg was
excited to surprise her later with the offer of a hot bath.

It took them an hour to unpack the van. 
Greg snuck the bathtub in while Rebecca pre-built a fire in the woodstove.

“I propose we continue to use the
bathroom next door until the pipes freeze or the water pressure fails.  Let’s
use the port-o-potty when absolutely necessary.”  Rebecca disliked the idea of
an outhouse, and wanted to delay its use as long as she could.

“I totally agree.  I’ll shovel the
path to next door as long as we need to.”  They sat on their couches, sifting
through their items.  It was 3:30.  Greg was exhausted.

“We have two hours of daylight. 
Let’s catch some fish for dinner.  Walk down to the pond with me. We’ll use
jerky for bait.  Come on, fresh fish for dinner!”  Rebecca had an endless supply
of energy.

“Seriously?  No way, I’m done.  You
go ahead.”  Greg was too tired.   He wanted to organize his new stuff and sit
on the couch, keeping warm next to the fire.  “It’s cold, it’s cloudy, it’s
gloomy, and I think it’s spitting rain out there.  We can fish tomorrow.”

“I want fish for dinner.  I don’t
want to go alone.  You’re my only option.  Get off your butt, put on a coat, and
let’s go.  You’re 14 not 40.  Pick yourself up and let’s catch some dinner.”

That was that, Greg was going. 
“Okay.”  He grumbled.  Fish did sound good.   He took the fishing pole she extended
to him, put on his coat and gloves, and walked out the door with her. 

Rebecca loved to fish.  She did not
know why.  Fishing was outside of her other passions.  For some reason floating
a line in water brought her joy. 

They turned left on Choate Road and
walked the quarter of a mile to Occom Pond.  The grass was tall as they left
the road and entered the field surrounding the water.  They found a nice spot
to stand and cast their lines close to the water’s edge.  Rebecca carried an
old fashioned wicker creel from the hunting store, and she dropped it from her
shoulder to the ground next to her.

“Let’s fill this thing up.”  She
threaded a piece of jerky on her hook and cast it out into the water.  The red
and white bobber bobbed for a few seconds, then became still.

“Are we here to catch dinner or are
we here because you like to fish?”  Greg watched Rebecca’s stride down to the
pond.  She had an extra skip.  He saw her expertly bait her hook and adjust her
bobber.   He marveled at her perfect cast and the extra distance she obtained
with a practiced wrist flick.  She was an angler.

“I wanted to fish this afternoon,
get some fresh air, catch some fresh dinner in the process.  I love to fish, is
that a crime? ”   Her line pulled.  The tip of her rod was pointed towards the
water.  She waited for a sustained tug on the line or a second strike.  She felt
both and jerked her line into the air to set the hook.

“Got one before you even have your
line in the water!”  She reeled her line.  The fish fought, bending her rod
over.  “It’s not a big one, but it will have some meat on it.”

She held the fish up for Greg to
see.  “That’s a nice sized perch.”  She commented.

“So it is.”  Greg said.  He was enthused
by her success, and put jerky on his line.

She stood looking at Greg, the fish
dangling from her line.  He cast his jerky out into the water.

“Greg?”

“Yes, you have a nice fish, I
already said that.  How many times do you want to say it?  You caught the first
fish, okay.”

“No, um, well, I’ve never kept a
fish before.  My dad and I would always catch and release.  What do I do with
it?  Just put it in the creel?”

“Well, well, well, the young woman
and the pond doesn’t know how to finish the job.”  Greg’s line went tight and
he set his hook in the fish’s mouth by pulling his rod tip skyward.  “I guess
you’ll just have to watch me.”  He reeled in a fish, similar in size to
Rebecca’s, a bass instead of a perch.

“We can do two things, put the
creel in shallow water and let the fish swim until we leave, or we can crack
them on the head with a rock and use the creel for storage.  It’s cold out.  We
don’t have to worry about the fish spoiling, and I doubt we’re going to be here
much longer.  I’m cold, and they’re biting.  If we get four or five fish, we’ll
be good for dinner, right?”

Rebecca listened to Greg’s advice. 
She was not excited about hitting the fish with a rock or stick.  “Can you do
my fish at the same time you do yours?  Please?  I’ll be able to get a line in
the water faster.”

“Sure, and I’ll even wave the Dixon
family rule ‘he, or she in this case, who catches, cleans.’”

“I don’t mind cleaning them, but I
don’t know how.  If you teach me, I’ll clean the fish next time.  I’m not that
girly.  If the fish are already dead, I’m fine with cleaning them.”

“You keep catching.  I’ll kill and clean
them as you reel them in.”  Greg pulled out a boning knife he took from a store
that morning, and began to clean the fish.  He would finish cleaning one as she
would catch another.  They had four nice sized and one very large fish for
dinner.  She hooked three smaller fish that she threw back. 

Rebecca pulled a bottle of soap from
her pocket.  “Let’s wash our hands here, save our water back home.  It’s lemon
scented soap, should help the fish smell.”

Greg was accustomed to Rebecca
having exactly what they needed.  He was not surprised by the lemon scented
soap.  He washed his hands in the water, cleaning off his knife as well.  He
picked up the creel and they headed to their house.

They walked ten paces when they
heard a gunshot.  It was distant but distinct.  A rifle discharged.  Rebecca
and Greg froze.  A second shot fired.

She looked around nervously.

“That shot was very far away, three
miles, maybe more.  If it rang up a valley, and with absolutely no other noise
to mask it, it had to be miles away, maybe five.”  Greg tried to calm Rebecca.

“Could it have been thunder?  There
is a storm coming.”  She asked hopefully.

“You and I know it was a gun, a
rifle I think.  I don’t hunt, but growing up in the south, I know the sound of
a gun.  There is definitely someone else alive up here, somewhere.”  He was
looking around too, trying to figure out the direction of the shot.  “Wow, what
are the odds?”

Rebecca stared at Greg.  “What
should we do?”  She was rattled.  She was smart, level headed, and brave, but
she was also a 13 year old girl, vulnerable to almost any attack from any
adult.  She knew her weaknesses.

“We go home and decide if we have
any next steps.”  He looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes.  “Hey, come
on, it’s no big deal.  If two is better than one, then three has to be better
than two, right?  It’s the first noise we’ve heard since we’ve been here. 
There can’t be a lot of people, it might even be someone driving through who
stopped to kill dinner.  Let’s go home, make our own dinner, and figure out if
we want to do anything.  For all we know right now, the person could be loading
a deer onto the hood of their car and be 10 miles south on Highway 91 by the
time we get to the house.  Remember, Canada is getting colder, as is Maine. 
People might be moving south for the winter.  Who in their right mind would
stay in New Hampshire for the winter?  Only crazy people, right?”

He put his arm around her.  “We’re
team Greg and Rebecca, don’t sweat it.” 

She gave him a weak smile.

Greg was a big fourteen year old. 
He was close to 5’ 10” tall, and while thin, his broad shoulders were
intimidating to approach without concern.  His face betrayed his youth, but his
stature relayed a strong male figure.  A stranger spying the teen from afar
might mistake Greg as a medium sized adult. 

No one would mistake Rebecca’s age.

When he put his arm around Rebecca,
she felt better.  She was an average sized 13 year old girl.  She was maturing
into a young woman, but without Greg she was a target.

They walked to the house as the sun
moved over the mountains to the west.  The temperature dropped quickly in the
afternoons.  Greg spoke as Rebecca’s tongue disappeared for the first time in
two weeks.  He talked about fishing with his family in South Carolina,
saltwater versus fresh water, and his brother Craig’s passion for fishing.  Greg
tried to take Rebecca’s mind off the unknown rifle shot.

“I have a surprise for you.  I
wanted to wait until I could really surprise you, but I think you need a happy
surprise right now.  Can you go in the kitchen and light the woodstove?  I’ll put
it together in here.  Don’t peak until I call you, okay?”  Greg was giddy.

“What is it?”  Rebecca asked,
suddenly excited.

“It’s a surprise.  I can’t tell
you.  Go in the kitchen for a few minutes.  Okay?” 

She giggled and went through the
door.  “Don’t take too long.  I want to get out of these clothes and into my
pajamas.”

“Don’t worry.”  Greg said as he
opened the dining room closet and pulled out the canvas bathtub.  He lit the
fire in the dining room and placed the bathtub four feet in front of it.  The
large dining table was in the back left corner with the chairs resting on its
top.  They were tired of walking around a table and saved it for emergency firewood.

“Okay, come on out.”  He called.

Rebecca walked through the door
with her hands over her eyes.  “I have my eyes covered for affect.  Should I
open them?”

“Wait, let me walk you over to the
surprise.”  He grabbed her elbow and led her next to the bathtub.  “Okay, now.”

She opened her eyes and looked
down.  Her mouth dropped open.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“I found it at LL Bean and snuck it
out to the van.  It’s a bathtub.  You solved the potty issue, I solved the
bathing issue.  We can take baths right next to the fire.  How awesome is
that?  The drain unscrews on the bottom.  We’ll figure out how to pump the
water out through a window.”

“Oh my god!  Can I go first?  Can I
go first right now?  I feel so dirty.  Please?  Please?”  She jumped up and
down.

“Of course, I’ll make dinner while
you take a bath.  I’ll stay in the kitchen.  Take your time, enjoy it.  I’ll go
when you are cleaning the kitchen after dinner.  Deal?”

“Anything you want, just let me
take a bath.  I’ll clean the dishes forever!  I promise!”

They ran a hose from the house next
door through a window and into the tub.  They filled it half way with the icy
water while four pots boiled on the woodstove burners.

Greg tapped her on the shoulder as
she watched the pots warm.  “One more surprise.”  He handed her a bottle of lilac
scented bath gel.  “There was a shop in the mall.  I thought you might like
this.”