Chapter 5: Morning’s First Beam

Something was not right about the homestead.

Tommy slid back in the thicket he had crawled through to make sure no light would touch the scope of his rifle as he scanned the grassy area around the home with the smoking chimney. He wished there was a closer place to watch from, or even one north or east of the place so he could chance using binoculars, but he felt something was off, and did not want to risk a flashing reflection exposing himself.

Papa Jack would approve of his caution, he knew.

For the past eleven years, earning Mama Samantha and Papa Jack’s approval had been Tommy’s aim in life. He did his best to stay on Mama Cassie’s good side as well, but with Cassie and Tabitha, they were more like older sisters than surrogate parents. Annie and Jessica were sort of like stepsisters as well, even though none of them shared any blood relatives. Not that many people did any more.

In the eleven years since the Big Dying, Tommy had grown up a lot. By the end of the first summer on the Caroline II, traveling up the Mississippi river and finding a new home, Tommy had known he was growing up in a different world than he had imagined in his first five years. Mama Samantha had helped him so much that first year. He loved her with all his heart. Papa Jack had started showing him the rules of the new world almost at once. He was always tired by the end of the day from helping plant the garden or tend the livestock, or train the dogs, or help with the hundreds of chores that always seemed to need being done.

It slowed down some in the winter, but Mama Samantha insisted on school time then. Even Mamas Cassie and Tabitha had been put into ‘school-time’. They both helped him a lot. Now, years later, he knew he had moved through a curriculum much more advanced than he would have gotten in public or private school in the old world. Some was the same -- reading, writing, arithmetic -- but there was a lot of more practical work as well, especially as he got older. He had learned to shoot, to hunt, how to butcher and preserve foods, build smoke houses, shelters, and fences. He had hands-on experience shoeing a jackass, delivering calves and piglets, making apple cider and brandy, threshing wheat, cooking, and so much more.

Now, at the ripe age of sixteen, he was out in the world on his first solo mission. Of course, Annie was back on the boat, keeping watch while he and Rex were lying in a thicket, but on the shore scouting missions, he was on his own.

Moving carefully, he pulled out his journal and sketched a simple map of the homestead a couple of hundred yards from his hiding place. It looked like a run-down house, old before the Big Dying, but it had been modified since then as well. The small trickle of smoke from the chimney told him there was someone there, as did the large garden planted south of the place. A run-down barn was east of the house, and it looked like a root cellar was between the two buildings. An ill-kept barbwire fence circled the homestead with a ramshackle gate crossing the broken asphalt driveway leading onto the property. It looked as normal as any other place he had watched before a meeting.

But something was off. He could sense it.

“When you have time, listen to your gut,” Papa Jack had always told him. “Sometimes, when you don’t have time, you should listen to your gut, too.”

Tommy prided himself on being a good student. He trusted his intuition and scanned the property with the rifle’s scope.

Two children hurried out from the covered front porch, moving toward the large garden. He noticed them glancing over their shoulders as they jogged along. A moment later, another, older person appeared. It was a girl; he could tell that from the dress and the obvious breasts swaying beneath the thin covering. She was moving much more slowly, as if in pain. The threesome spread themselves out in the garden, each tending a different section.

Tommy watched them work. All three made occasional looks back at the house. He wished he could see into the shadowed porch. He wished he could hear their conversation. Tommy continued to watch, scanning and adding notes to the sketch in his small journal. He was supposed to be looking for trading opportunities. The smoke from the chimney had provided the promise of a larger gathering of people, but the small homestead would appear to be something to hide, rather than advertise with a smokey fire. Rex moved to lie alongside him. It was comforting to know he was not entirely alone.

No dogs. He finally realized what was bothering him. Almost everyplace he had seen or visited had at least one dog to help keep watch over things. With the feral packs that had risen after the Big Dying, it was foolish not to have some dogs of your own. Tommy knew that the dogs at the plantation were largely responsible for their livestock surviving the first two winters. If there were any animals in the barn at this homestead, they needed some sort of care. No one had approached the barn yet.

Maybe they had already taken care of morning chores, Tommy thought. He had made his way into the thicket after sunrise, but still early enough to have caught most typical farm chores being done. The three people gardening now were the only sight of people, other than some earlier motion in the dirty windows of the house. Something did not make sense.

He continued to watch as the sun rose higher. He decided to give himself until noon to figure out what was going on. If he did not have answers by then, he would head back to the river and the Caroline II. Annie would probably tease him for being overly cautious, but Papa Jack had told them before they set out that Tommy was the boss, since he had been on many more river trips than Annie, despite her older age.

Annie. He tried to push her out of his mind but couldn’t. Annie was older, turning twenty this year in the fall. She had long dark hair that shined in the sunlight and fell to the middle of her back. Her blue eyes laughed with mirth at the smallest provocation. She had small breasts, and complained about them, but Tommy thought they suited her slim build and tiny waist. He thought she was beautiful. She thought he was just a kid.

Tommy was not certain what Mama Samantha had been thinking when she decided Annie would accompany him this summer. Sure, Annie knew what herbs and seed stock they wanted from the trading post at Fort Defiance where the Ohio joined the Mississippi river, but this trip was supposed to be longer than that simple run. Tommy had made the journey up-river from the plantation to Fort Defiance at least twice every year with either Jack or William. All of the families had gone at least once, but Tommy held the record. He loved navigating the river through its changing seasons. He had learned how to read the eddies and watch the current. He had been with Papa Jack as they used explosive packs last year to help clear the channel from the fallen bridge near the old Saint Louis airport. That had been the first time they pushed upriver toward Kansas City.

Now he was captain on his own trip, but Annie still acted like he was a kid. She teased him constantly when they were at anchor and whined when he went ashore alone to scout the lay of the land. Tommy was resigned to the fact that she would probably follow Jessica’s lead and marry Agnes and William once she turned twenty-one. Jack and Samantha had told the girls they had until that age to make some life choices. Jessica had wasted no time, seducing Agnes and then William years ahead of schedule. She had married them both and delivered her first son before turning twenty-one. Tommy knew Annie would follow that path next. It made for some long days and nights on this trip.

Motion brought his attention back to the homestead. The three people were all moving toward the house. A wagon was being pulled up the long road leading to the gate. Tommy shifted his scope to see who it was.

An older horse was pulling the wagon. Its coat glistened, indicating it was better maintained and treated than he thought the property was. The wagon also appeared in good repair. It looked to be made of old car parts with a pick-up truck bed making the wagon proper. A red-cross was painted on the side of the truck-bed. A high-backed, upholstered bench seat was perched over the front of the box for the driver. The driver’s head and face were covered by a wide-brimmed straw hat, offering good protection from the summer sun. Tommy could not tell if it was a man or woman driving the wagon. Patiently, he watched the wagon pull closer to the gate and then stop. The driver stood on the toe board running along the front of the box. It was now obviously a woman, wearing loose khaki pants and a blue work-shirt, covered by a long, dingy white vest or sleeveless jacket with lots of pockets.

For the first time, a man appeared from the house. He carried a rifle with practiced ease as he strolled toward the gate, but Tommy noticed his eyes scanning the garden and fence line as he walked. Carefully, he kept as still as possible when the man’s gaze swept over the thicket he was hiding in.

The woman on the wagon said something. The man motioned with his rifle, as if telling her to move along. She shook her head and replied. Tommy wished he were closer, to hear the conversation, but resigned himself to only observing. The man motioned and shouted something to the house. Tommy watched the other three people step to the front rail of the porch. The woman looked at them for a minute and then nodded. She sat and snapped the reins to the horse. She easily turned the wagon and horse to head back down the drive. Tommy watched as the man spit over the gate after her and then leaned against the metal frame to watch her go. The man did not move until the wagon was rounding the bend in the winding drive. A moment later, he was heading back to the house, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. The two smaller kids ran back to the garden, presumably to resume working. The third girl, older than the other two, but not yet what Tommy would consider a woman, tried to follow, but was still moving more slowly.

The man grabbed her by the arm and spun her back toward the house. She struggled for a moment before the man casually pushed her to the ground and reached for his belt. Tommy sighted in on his back as the girl raised her hands to plead with him. Tommy wondered if he could shoot a man in the back for hitting a girl. If it was anyone of the women in his family, he knew he would, but for strangers? He kept his finger resting on the trigger and watched.

The girl had her hands up and the man kept his belt in his hand, hanging loose next to him. He reached in front of him. Tommy realized what was happening as the man’s pants fell to his ankles. The girls’ hands were at the back of his thighs. through his scope, he could see the man thrusting and knew the girl was receiving those thrusts. He watched, horrified and excited at the same time. Mama Tabitha had taught him about oral sex. Of course, sex on the plantation was not something that was ever forced. The rules of their clan were one of the things Annie took delight in twisting to tease him. As he watched, he knew the scene would play out in his mind the next time Annie was sunning herself on the boat.

Tommy watched until the man thrust one last time and held his arched-back pose. A moment later, he pushed the girl away and then bent to pick up his pants, carefully. Once he was re-dressed, he said something and motioned toward the garden. Tommy saw the two younger kids turn away to get back to work as the other girl crawled a short distance before rising and slowly making her way to join them.

Tommy tracked the man through his scope until he disappeared back in the house before he began to slowly back out of his thicket.

“What an asshole,” Melissa muttered to herself as she urged her horse along the long drive toward the road. Charlie, her horse, snorted in agreement. The thought that the horse had more intelligence than that man made Melissa smile. If it weren’t for the kids stuck with him, she would laugh and never visit the place again. If only she had not promised Candace to look in on him and the kids, she thought.

At the road, she turned Charlie west and a little north, heading on toward the next stop on her circuit. Since she had not wasted much time at the Cabot place, she thought she would make it to Bonnots Mill before sunset. Carmine had a small place there where she would stay for a day or so and let Charlie rest before traveling on to Jefferson City, or what was left of it. She adjusted her hat and took a sip of water from her canteen before trying to force her shoulders to relax.

“Do what you can, and tolerate what you can’t change,” she said softly. She could not change Herbert Paulson. That was one thing she knew for certain. She had not liked the man and would have steered well clear of him if Candace had not befriended her. Herb always gave her the creeps. After Candace died between visits, she worried for the children there. She wished she had been more insistent on taking a better look at them. Especially Elaine, the other survivor Candace had taken in ten years ago. How she had survived on her own for a year at the age of seven had always amazed Melissa.

Melissa rode along, keeping an eye out for any wildlife and checking that her pistol was within easy reach. Traveling alone in the summer months had taught her some lessons about life in the new world. People on the road were seldom her biggest problem. She needed to find another dog, she knew, but the loss of her last dog, Arrow was still too painful in her mind. She knew life needed to go on, but some time was needed to let emotional wounds heal.

A motion caught her eye.

A dog sat at the edge of the road, looking at her while beating the ground with a staccato thump of his tail. It was a nice-looking dog. A shepherd mix; maybe with poodle and a little something else. She was glad she could still spot the major breed characteristics. Of course, such a fine-looking dog was not out here alone. She pulled on the reins to stop Charlie and slipped her hand over to cradle her pistol.

“You have a fine-looking dog,” she said loudly. “I’d hate to have to shoot it.”

“Me too,” she heard a voice to her left say clearly. She spun and lifted the pistol as a man stood from a thick patch of tall grass. He was slightly behind her. She had not even noticed him. He held his hands low and away from his body. She remembered her Kipling and did not tell him to raise them.

“Who are you?” she asked, scanning the thin woods behind him and glancing back at the dog who still sat patiently.

“Rex, come!” the man said sharply. The dog trotted over to him, making it easier to keep an eye on them both. Of course, that could be just what he wanted.

“My name is Tommy,” he said. His voice was soft but carried easily with a natural tenor. It was a pleasant voice. Melissa knew that voices, especially men’s voices, could lie easily even if they were nice to listen too.

Once burned, twice shy, she thought.

“What are you doing here? You’re not from around here,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I just came in off the river. I’m looking for some trading opportunities. We’ve got a place a bit further down river,” he said. His hands stayed low and away and he kept his blue eyes on her face as the dog nuzzled his leg, as if looking for a treat.

“How many of you are there?” she asked, waving her pistol toward the trees ahead.

He smiled. His white teeth told her a lot about him, immediately.

“Just me and Rex. Like I said, I just came off the river to see the lay of the land. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than you want to shoot Rex.” He motioned toward the wagon. “From the looks of it, you’re a doctor, so I thought I’d risk trying to chat with you on the road here.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked, looking him over again. He was tall, nearly six feet, and had broad shoulders and light brown hair. His eyes were clear, and his teeth looked good. So many survivors had poor dental hygiene. His clothing looked well worn, but also did not look to be salvage, which is what most people wore.

“No, ma’am, but one of my mother’s is a doctor. She would be cross with me if I did not at least say ‘hello’ and see if I could help with anything.”

Melissa laughed. “Yeah, how about undoing the Big Dying so I can finish school?”

She saw Tommy frown, almost as if considering it.

“If I could, that would be something. Unfortunately, I don’t think that is likely. Is there anything else I might be able to help with? Like I said, I’m just trying to get the lay of the land.”

She wanted to believe him but was jaded enough by eleven years of survival to not trust her instincts. “How do I know you’re not trying to scout the place out before raiding it. We’ve had a few problems like that over the years.”

“If that’s the case, maybe I should just head back to the river. We’re looking for places we can visit and get some commerce established. Papa Jack thinks we must trade for things we don’t have. The folks at Fort Defiance seem to agree with our thinking. If the folks around here don’t, maybe we had better look elsewhere.”

Melissa sat straighter at the mention of Fort Defiance. She had passed through there many years ago, spending the winter before heading west across the Mississippi.

“How is Stella?” she asked, mentioning the woman that ran the trading post there.

Tommy smiled. “Stella and Stan are both doing well, at least they were when we stopped in there on the way up-river. We traded for a bunch of medicinal herbs there.”

“Like what?” Melissa asked. If he knew some of the actual herbs that would be useful, she thought she could give him a little trust. If.

“I don’t remember them all. They’re cataloged in the inventory on the boat.” He frowned and furrowed his brow. “I know some of them. We picked up some Dogbane, Mandrake, and Blue Ginseng for sure.”

Melissa nodded. She had all three in her herb chest in the wagon. Based on her eleven years of experience, not many survivors knew that much about herbal medicines. Too many people self-medicated from pharmacy loot, often to their detriment. Melissa lowered her pistol and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” she said. “I believe you. How long ago were you at Fort Defiance?”

“Last week,” Tommy answered easily.

Melissa straightened and gripped her pistol again, not actually pointing it at him, but making certain she could with a flick of her wrist. “How did you get this far up-river so quickly?” It was at least three hundred miles against the current. Nobody could paddle that hard.

“I told you,” he said. “In our boat. We took our time, to conserve fuel, but we tried to put sixty miles a day in, even with occasional stops to trade or scout things.”

“You have power?” She did not want to believe him. Gas had gone bad in tanks years ago.

He nodded. “We use it carefully and try to replenish our stockpile when we find a stash of diesel. It’s not going to last forever, so we’re trying to find out how far up-river we can or want to trade.”

Melissa lowered her pistol again, unbelieving.

“How big is this boat?” she finally asked.

He shrugged. “Big enough,” he said with his white smile.

Tommy trusted his gut and accepted her offer of a ride closer to the river. He suspected she wanted to see the boat but was happy to have a chance to talk to her some and find out more about the few people in the area. He was especially curious about the homestead they had just both been at.

“So, you travel a regular circuit?” He asked after she explained her summer routine to him.

“More or less,” she said. “For the past six years, I’ve made a ten-day to two-week loop once a month. I was trained as a vet, but I’m the only person with any medical training in the area. I typically check in on families and their animals and do a little trade.”

“What do you trade?” Tommy asked and then regretted the eager tone of his voice.

Mellisa laughed. “Whatever I have too much of and they don’t have enough of,” she replied. “Usually, I do some foraging on my travels. The salvage is getting pretty picked over, but there is always something somebody needs. I can usually learn what they need and then find it before I swing back passed them.”

Tommy nodded. They did something similar along the river.

“Any interest in say...” he thought about things they grew. “Peaches?

Melissa looked thoughtful and clucked at Charlie as he slowed on a slight rise.

“Fresh?” she asked.

Tommy nodded. “And canned. We have quite a few with us this trip,” Tommy admitted. Last year had been a bumper crop, filling most the mason jars Mama Samantha had allocated for peaches, and about a quarter of their ‘trade’ jars. The peaches had been a big hit at Fort Defiance, but the peach brandy had been even more popular.

“You can do a lot with peaches,” Melissa. “Apples, too.”

“We don’t do much trade in apples. We eat them, can some, and then feed the rest to the pigs.”

“So, you are from someplace warm enough for peaches, raise pigs as well, and are on the river,” Melissa said with a smile. They had both been dancing around details of where they called ‘home’.

“And you are within a couple day’s ride of Jefferson City but take a longer route to and from it so you can salvage and tend your flock of survivors,” Tommy replied. “You have a few goats or sheep, but no cattle or horses, other than Charlie.”