Chapter 29: Where We Belong

April 2046

Spring seemed like it would never arrive soon enough for Joshua to put his ingenuity and trap to the test. Patience, however, turned out to be the real test.

By the end of April, after two weeks of meticulous observations and ruses to lure the hens and their poults, Matthew and Joshua lay in wait about twenty yards from the trap. The birds were nearby among a grove of trees foraging for something to satisfy a new craving.

An hour passed and the sun started to rise over the trees. The boys knew they were going to miss breakfast and get screamed at by the girls for goofing off again and not pulling their weight with early morning chores. They had come a long way in their quest to capture a few poults. They could taste success and were not about to walk away again.

Weeks earlier, they had scoped out the very same hollow about a half mile down from the monastery where Dad had bagged his first turkey, convinced that it would be the ideal spot to set up the trap. Clark made sure they got to the place early each morning before dawn to identify roosting trees and the turkeys’ habits. To make sure they got there before the birds stirred, Matthew finally had a real reason to ride the bicycle they found in the container with Joshua sitting on the rack over the rear tire complaining about the bumps. Once they got off the gravel road, it was fun flying down the highway over the smooth pavement with the early morning wind in their faces.

It took the boys four days hiding in the woods behind a tree trunk where they could observe the birds’ pattern of behavior, but not be seen, and identify a good spot for the trap. They scattered a few handfuls of cracked corn and kernels of wheat reserved for the chickens, returning every evening for several days to see if the turkeys had fallen for the bait, leaving more grain if they did.

Early one morning, the boys decided to see for themselves how the turkeys were faring. As they waited, the hens and their hungry offspring began to emerge from the forest tree line and ran head over heels straight for the chicken feed, competing with each other to see which bird could get to the spot first. It was hilarious and the boys had to suppress their laughter in order not to give away their position.

Later that same day, as dusk fell and the birds vanished to retire for the night, Clark and the boys loaded the trap into the car and brought it to the feeding spot. They tilted the platform, positioning the fulcrum at the opposite end from the trap door, and left the door open. Lastly, they spread a generous amount of corn and wheat around the trap, especially leading up to the opening.

The next morning, the boys were already gone before Clark could wake them up. They came back several hours later despondent, reporting that the hens came to the spot but were spooked by the trap and scurried away. Even the other turkeys stayed clear of the spot.

Clark had to remind them again that turkeys were highly suspicious by nature, a natural reaction to anything out of the ordinary to protect each other and stay alive, a lesson which the boys should take to heart. He told them not to give up and return the next morning and the morning thereafter, making sure there was always plenty of corn on the ground, including the approaching trail used by the hens, until the birds realized that the trap no longer posed any danger.

It took several days, but the scheme paid off, and for three consecutive days the spot had been picked clean. It was time to get serious and activate the trap.

It was now or never as the boys lay quietly in foot-high green grass behind a blossoming bush of yellow flowers waiting patiently for the hens to abandon the grove and come to the table set for them. Matthew’s stomach growled. Joshua was worried the gurgling, grumbling sound might scare away the turkeys.

Suddenly, a hen stirred and cautiously tip-toed away from the flock like she remembered something. Her obedient poults followed her without a peep. When they realized where she was taking them, the poults outran her and headed straight for the trap. This time a sprinkling of grain led them to the ramp of the platform where the trap door was triggered to fall shut. More was piled inside at the other end.

Matthew and Joshua held their breath, stretching their necks over the tops of the grass to get a better view as one and then another poult filed through the opening. There were about a dozen of the young turkeys but only four or five had entered the trap when it started to teeter the other way. The door dropped shut. The hen and the other poults ran for their lives. Alarmed, the others nearby dashed for the tree line and dove into the brush.

The boys turned to each other. A big smile creased their face.

As they stood up and starting walking to count how many poults were caught, they heard an unfamiliar noise coming from the road and immediately ducked behind the bush and crouched there. The sound became louder and drew closer like the clomping of Clark’s boots on the kitchen floor, and for a moment the boys forgot about their prized catch.

The sound was perplexing and disquieting and struck fear into their hearts.

“It’s coming from over there,” Joshua whispered, pointing to a cluster of trees concealing the road.

“Where’s the shotgun?”

“Oh shit! I left it back there with the bike.”

“I’m going to get it.”

“No, wait,” Joshua grabbed the sleeve of Matthew’s camo jacket jerking him back. “Look!”

Matthew turned and was startled upon seeing a man emerging from the shadow of the trees, leading a golden brown horse with a white mane by a rope. This wasn’t real, he thought. Dad had told him and Joshua just recently that there weren’t supposed to be any other humans around.

The man was wearing faded jeans, worn at the knees, and an over-sized, dark hooded sweatshirt that hung awkwardly from his body. He had a bushy winter beard, and his light-brown hair was thick and frizzed by the wind and sun. In his left hand, he was holding a thick wooden shaft resting on his shoulder. It was much longer than his height and had a menacing looking tip.

The horse was laden with an assortment of bags and crates, making the man look like an itinerant merchant bringing exotic goods from a faraway land to be traded.

Just when the boys thought there was nothing else to see, a colt – white as snow - came prancing to catch up and parade alongside the horse. It whinnied and tossed its head. The horse responded with a reassuring nicker.

As if on cue, the man stopped and turned to look from where the colt had appeared. He spoke and made some gestures. In seconds, a short figure came into view wearing a gray quilted jacket over a long denim skirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat. A girl? Matthew and Joshua were confounded. She was carrying a backpack and holding a crude stick by her side.

Several steps behind the girl, a woman slowly brought up the rear, dragging her feet and carrying a bulky sack slung over her shoulder. She looked like a weary peasant woman coming home from the field after a long day of work. She too was clad in a long denim skirt, wearing a long, thick, indigo blue jacket and a red scarf covering her head.

The three exchanged some words before the man led the horse off the road and into the meadow. The horse immediately attacked the fresh, tender grass, while the man removed a rolled up blanket and spread it on the ground. The woman and the girl joined him and sat down on the blanket like they were going to have a picnic. The man remained standing looking in all directions, including where Matthew and Joshua were hiding. The girl handed him a bottle of water; the woman offered him something to eat. The colt quickly found its way to the underbelly of the horse for some nourishment, too, gleefully swishing its tail.

“We have to tell Dad right away,” Joshua whispered. “You go. I’ll stay here and keep a look out.”

Matthew nodded in agreement. He knew that Joshua wouldn’t accept a counterargument. Besides, Joshua had difficulties keeping the bike upright and straight.

“You be careful, little brother,” he said with a lump in his throat and crawled off through the grass towards a dilapidated shed where they had left the bicycle and shotgun. No one heard or saw him frantically pedaling away.

IT WAS MID-MORNING and the sun was gradually climbing in the sky and getting too warm for Joshua stuck in his camo jacket. His legs were begging him to stand up and stretch.

After a while, the man finally sat down next to the woman and the girl with their backs to the sun. Joshua took advantage of the moment and shifted his body to a squatting position.

They were no more than sixty yards away from him and seemed to have a lively conversation. He was able to pick up a word or two here and there, and was glad they spoke his language. He could clearly hear the sound of the poults, chirping, calling for help. They would have to wait until Matthew showed up with Dad.

BLIZZARD HEARD MATTHEW’S call of distress, yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs long before his young master reached the farmhouse. He started barking furiously to answer the sounds. It set off Ginger and the other dogs with matching urgency to warn that something was wrong.

Matthew was out of breath, pedaling the bike at top notch speed over cracks and along the narrow two-tire paths of the gravel road, yet he still mustered enough air in his lungs to signal in advance his arrival, like a Paul Revere warning that “The British are coming.”

“DAAAD,” he screamed as he entered the yard, his voice trailing off in a painful cry of “MAAMA.”

Clark came rushing out of the barn; Katie dropped her egg basket and ran toward Matthew.

“Oh my God, where’s Josh?” she cried, grabbing Matthew’s arm and searching his face for an answer. “Is he hurt?”

Sally and the girls hurried out of the house to see what the commotion was all about and to find Matthew surrounded by Clark, Katie and the jittery dogs.

“People... , “ Matthew said, catching his breath and pointing in the direction where he left his brother.

“Slow down son,” Clark said, recognizing the seriousness in Matthew’s voice and the unlikely word he pronounced. “What are you talking about?”

“Josh’s okay ... there’s a man, a woman, a girl,” he explained still panting and pointing. “We have to get there quickly!”

Clark told Katie to get her shotgun. Sally and the girls were to hunker down in the house. He and Matthew ran to the garage to get the car.

JOSHUA REMAINED FOCUSED on the three people, trying to piece together the snippets of their conversation. He was getting hungry just by watching them having their mid-morning snack. Suddenly, the girl stood up and blew a whistle. In his singlemindedness, he didn’t notice that the colt had wandered away from the mare. The girl blew the whistle again and called to the colt, but it ignored her and kept walking further away. She picked up her big stick and went to chase back the rebellious young horse only to make it bolt and run in the direction of the trap, jumping and playfully kicking up its hind legs.

When the girl came within ten yards of the trap, she heard the poults, stopped chasing the colt, and took several more steps forward to see what the disturbance was all about. She was nearly on top of them and started yelling, “Papa, Papa, come here. You need to see this.”

Her voice was sweet and Joshua could understand her, but wasn’t too happy that she was encroaching on his catch.

The man picked up his spear and came jogging to where the girl stood. “What is it, Stella?” he asked as he approached.

The girl had a nice name, too, Joshua thought. But, who did they think they were poaching around in his family’s hunting territory? He couldn’t let them mess with his poults and decided to take action.

He stood up and walked from behind the bush like David coming face to face with Goliath. “Hey!” he shouted. “Stop right there,” he demanded with clenched fists, his voice breaking at the worst possible time, flipping between high and low pitches.

The girl shrieked and quickly hid behind the man, clutching at his clothes like a frightened kitten. The man didn’t expect anyone and immediately took up a defensive position, holding the spear firmly with both hands, the dagger-like spike pointed at Joshua ready to strike, while at the same time scanning the trees and bushes for a surprise ambush.

At that very moment, Clark came barreling down the road and slammed on the brakes, tearing up asphalt and sending a cloud of dust and white smoke of burning rubber into the air. The man backed away in the direction of the woman who had already gotten to her feet to see what was happening. The girl ran to her arms seeking protection, her straw hat flying off her head.

Joshua did the same and ran towards the car to find Katie sitting in the front seat and Matthew in the back. Clark jumped from the car and went to stand several feet in front of it. Joshua was surprised his dad wasn’t armed.

For the longest moment, everyone just stood silent like in a Dodge City stand-off, sizing each other up. The man appeared half Clark’s age, tall and lean. His face had a deep tan of someone who was no stranger to living in the wild. He and his entourage looked like wandering nomads far away from home and lost.

Clark felt he needed to say something first, to engage them in a friendly manner, but the magnitude of the moment left him searching for words. It felt like the scene out of a science fiction movie he saw as a kid with earthlings encountering extraterrestrials for the first time.

He had a million questions. Who were these people? Where did they come from? Why were they here?

Finally, he took a deep breath and slowly raised his hand in a friendly gesture of greeting, to show he meant them no harm.

“Hello folks. My name is Clark.”

He waited giving the stranger time and space to respond as the words trust but verify, trust but verify kept echoing in his mind. That approach worked in situations when he had time to reason and analyze non-immediate problems, like planning the layout of the vegetable garden.

When primitive people were confronted by other humans they surely must have relied on blind instinct or reflex, on a gut level, to come up with the right response more automatically. It was either fight or flight; resist forcibly or run away. The business of survival, of keeping intruders from settling in their area, eating their food, taking their game and abducting their women were constant concerns. Instinct and intuition were fundamental in their struggle to stay alive against possible violence and annihilation.

Clark couldn’t tell if the man was harmless just by looking at him. He wasn’t going to take any chances and kept an eye on the seven-foot spear that the stranger brandished for any sudden movements. The man seemed adept at handling such an ancient weapon that had fallen out of use for hunting and defense since the invention of firearms. If the man tried anything, Katie was ready with her shotgun.

When they had escaped the City, Clark and the girls often pondered what they would do if they were confronted by desperate and hungry people appearing out of nowhere. The cabin provided them a perfect refuge, isolating them from the madness in the City. Their concerns about a run-in with bad actors eventually evaporated. The discovery and interaction with the monks was a friendly, happy and enlightening experience. It lifted their souls and inspired them to look for the good in others again. The girls thought of the Brothers as great-granduncles; Clark looked to Brother Matthew as a mentor. Then suddenly, their peaceful world was brutally shattered with the arrival of Herschel and it took them a while again to overcome their fears and shake their pessimism of humanity.

Clark had no doubt that there were still good, ordinary people left in the world, people who were just trying to survive, people who were probably a lot like him and his family. He decided to trust his instincts about the stranger. Both were only striving for the same things in a collapsed world: security and survival for self and family.

Inching closer, the woman said something to the man who refused to break eye contact with Clark not for a second. Slowly, he released his left hand from the spear and planted it upright in his right, the deadly end bristling in the sunlight.

“Hey,” the man grunted, the word bursting from deep within to acknowledge Clark’s greeting.

The fact that the man responded at all with a simple hello was a huge step in this unexpected encounter. Rather than concerning himself with why they were here, Clark wanted to convey to the newcomers a sense of welcome, and a desire to establish an open, mutually beneficial and peaceful relationship with them. He hoped that the stranger understood that the chance of survival in their upended world was greater if they banded together as a group.

Suddenly, Clark realized his back was turned to the road, setting himself up for a surprise attack from his left. “Are there any more of you?” he asked the newcomer.

With narrow eyes, the man maintained a severe expression and hesitated for a moment. Clark could tell that he was just like him, the type who considered every possible response before moving his chess piece. He was weighing the risks and rewards, just like Clark would.

“No, just us,” the man replied, repositioning his grip on the spear.

Clark recognized that it wasn’t in the stranger’s nature to trust anyone either and tried to diffuse the tense situation. “How can my family and I help you folks?”

The woman and the girl pressed closer to the man, standing next to him in a show of support. Occasionally, the girl showed her face peering from between the two adults. Joshua felt there was something familiar with the way she looked toward him.

Sensing that the situation was stressful especially for the newcomers, Katie got out of the car without her shotgun, collected Matthew and Joshua in her arms and went to stand next to Clark. She wanted to show them that they shared the same essential oneness as humans and families, a source of reliable friendship and companionship, stability and survival.

The woman leaned into the man and exchanged some words. Clearing his throat, the man shouted, “I thank you for your offer, but we’re just passin’ through.”

Clark wasn’t sure but thought he noticed a slight drawl in the man’s speech, characteristic of people from the South. The man’s conveyance of gratitude was enough to spark renewed hope under the most bizarre of circumstances. To him these wayfaring travelers appeared honorable and posed no threat. This was a momentous turning point, an opportunity that could change their destinies forever. He continued to pursue the angle of cooperation.

“We have been living here alone for many, many years, and know the area well. I’m sure we can be of help to you.”

The man relaxed a bit, possibly weighing the alternatives. The girl came around from behind to stand alongside him. He put his free hand on her shoulder and she leaned into him, trusting his courage, his resolve to do the right thing.

“What can you tell us about this place and your family?” he said, sounding more relaxed and expectant.

Clark smiled and took the response as an opening for dialogue. “Can we come closer so that we don’t have to shout back and forth?”

The man pondered the request for a second, then nodded. “A’right.”

Clark walked towards him with Katie and the boys close behind. He stopped several feet short of the man and looked him in the eyes. Sensing there was nothing to fear, he asked the man, “What do you call yourself?”

“I’m Frank,” the man introduced himself, proudly straightening his shoulders.

“Well, Frank, we thought this moment would never happen in my lifetime,” Clark said. “My family and I live just up the road with goats and chickens on a little plot of land where we grow vegetables and corn. This is my wife, Katie, and my oldest son, Matthew. You’ve already met my youngest boy, Joshua.”

“I’m pleased to meet y’all,” Frank nodded and made eye contact with everyone. “This is my wife, Rebecca, and our daughter, Stella. That back there is Lady and her colt, Sunny,” he added, introducing the horses like they were extended family members.

Katie stepped forward and, looking at the woman, added, “This is a most blessed day, thanks be to God.”

The woman remained quiet and waited for Frank to respond. “Are you part of a Bible Christian cult or something?” he asked in a condescending way.

Clark recognized a hint of sarcasm in Frank’s question. “No, but the monks from the monastery nearby taught us many things, to do good deeds and respect one another.”

“The monk!” Stella said with excitement, her face lighting up, tugging on her father’s sleeve and lifting the crude stick like she wanted to remind him of something.

Raising his hand and pointing to the car, Frank asked bluntly, “Are you with the government?”

The question felt like an accusation, a brazen charge as offensive as the spear. Clark didn’t expect it, but understood Frank’s concern. Or maybe Frank was just paranoid and suspected that Clark might be the leader of a resurgent government.

“No! But the butcher who used it to kidnap my wife died squealing like a pig.”

A long moment of silence ensued as the newcomers tried to assimilate Clark’s shattering statement. Hearing this for the first time, Matthew and Joshua looked at each other askance, and then at Katie, stunned at the revelation. Quickly though, the silence was dispelled by the desperate, agitated chirping of the poults.

“Well, I think we have stood around long enough,” Katie said, taking charge of the situation. “It’s almost midday and our guests must be getting hungry. Besides, the rest of our family - Sally, Fifi, Trish and Mary – must be worried and eager to meet you.”

She directed Matthew and Joshua to collect the trap with the poults and load it in the back of the car. She told Clark to give Frank a hand with reloading the newcomers’ possessions onto the mare.

As the boys scrambled off in one direction and the men marched off in another to where Lady was minding her own business, calmly nibbling the tender shoots of grass, Katie approached Rebecca and Stella. They smiled at one another. Neither of them was used to talking to strangers, and Stella clung to her mother’s arm for reassurance.

“You look tired,” Katie said. “You and Stella are welcomed to ride with us in the car back to the house.”

Stella’s face lit up again upon hearing that she would be riding in a car for the very first time in her life. When the boys passed them, gingerly balancing and carrying the trap off the field like a stretcher, she followed them with her eyes, curious to see how they were going to load the poults into the car, but mostly agog seeing boys for the first time.

Her Papa often told stories about himself when he was a boy, but the image of a younger, smaller version of him eluded her. Now she knew. Matthew and Joshua were like her, but at the same time not like her, and that intrigued her more.

“I appreciate your offer,” Rebecca said. “But Stella and I will walk with Frank.”

Katie understood and did not insist. Stella was not happy with her mother’s decision and pursed her lips.

“Mama,” Matthew called before he and Joshua had securely positioned the trap. “Can I go help Dad and Mr. Frank with the horse?”

“Sure,” Katie responded and quickly added, “But mind your manners and don’t get in the way.” Then turning to Rebecca she said, “He’s been anxious to get up real close to horses ever since we saw a whole herd last summer on the outskirts of Millbrook. He’s probably going to give Frank a headache asking a million questions.”

“That’s strange,” Rebecca responded. “Stella insists that she saw a car last summer in a field where lots of horses usually graze. Lady was one of them and we adopted her.”

Joshua was trying to impress Stella with his noisy trophies, but when he heard Rebecca’s account, he looked at Stella and smiled. He thought he noticed something familiar about her face moments before, but now he was sure who he had seen on that unforgettable day by the burned out barn.

Stella looked about as tall, straight and thin-waisted as his sister Mary, maybe even the same age. Without the straw hat, her hair was a glossy auburn, cascading in natural curls down to her shoulders. The features of her face were delicate, its shape a roundish oval with a pit in her chin and a sprinkling of freckles flowing from the bridge of her nose to form constellations on her cheeks. Her eyes were black and sparkled each time she smiled with her ruddy lips.

“Do you want to ride with me back here and help with the poults?” he asked her, his voice cracking and squeaking again like before, making him nervous. “Here, give me your stick and climb in.”

Stella balked. “This is not a stick,” she scowled.

Rebecca chuckled and explained that Stella and her four-foot long stick were inseparable and that it had brought them this far. Katie didn’t understand and brushed the comment aside, distracted as Matthew arrived, running ahead of the men and carrying a backpack, a sack and a straw hat.

“Mama,” he said, catching his breath. “Mr. Frank said I can lead the horse to the house and Dad’s okay with that.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Put everything on the front seat and do what Frank tells you,” she added, barely able to finish her remarks as Matthew already started placing everything into the car and running back to the horse. “I’ve never seen him so excited since the day he caught a wild piglet and brought it home in a sack alive and squealing,” she told Rebecca, smiling proudly.

“Do you mind if I sit down for a second?” Rebecca asked, her face turning pale.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Katie responded, opening the car door for Rebecca. “Why don’t you also take off your jacket? It’s gotten quite warm.”

When Rebecca unzipped her jacket, Katie looked surprised staring at the belly bump. “You’re expecting!” she exclaimed with a note of joy and wonder.

“I’m in my fourth month,” Rebecca answered. “Frank and I decided to try again after I had a miscarriage many years ago.”

“Well, this is all the more reason why you and your family should come with us,” Katie said, wondering what was taking so long for the men to reload the horse. “Sally and I have had our experiences with making ... I mean, having babies.”

Rebecca gave Katie a curious stare and asked intuitively, “Are you and Sally Clark’s wives?”

“Yes,” Katie responded without hesitation. “And with God’s blessings.”

Before Rebecca could ask another question, the men arrived with the horse; the colt trotting obediently not far behind.

Katie explained that Rebecca had decided that she and Stella would be accompanying Frank, and that she would stay with Rebecca because of her special condition. She rubbed her belly with her hands, and Clark immediately understood, nodding his approval and giving Frank a congratulatory smile.

Upon hearing this, Joshua jumped from the car and begged his dad to let him go with Mama, his eyes glued to Stella’s face.

“Who’s going to help Dad unload the poults?” Katie asked him.

“It’s okay,” Clark told Katie to Joshua’s delight. “Mary and I can handle it.”

He went to cover the trap with sacks to keep the poults calm. “So, is everyone ready?” he asked with optimism, as he shut the cargo door, and was met with a chorus of enthusiastic yeas.

“Oh, tell Sally and the girls to make an extra pot of stew,” Katie said as he went around to the driver’s side of the car. “And heat up more water, too.”

Clark slipped behind the wheel, started the engine and very slowly rolled the car forward, making a sweeping U-turn without spooking the horses. “We’ll see you in a little while,” he said, waving to everyone from his open window, and sped away, stirring up the leaves in a flutter of colors along the ground behind him.

Frank carefully led the horse and her heavy cargo up the grassy shoulder and onto the middle of the road. Everyone fell in line walking side by side in a line across the road like a chain gang, resolute and confident of where they were heading.

Once the horse had established a comfortable gait, Frank handed the rope over to an excited Matthew. Lady snorted a couple of times acknowledging her new liege. Dutifully, Sunny lined up behind Stella as if to redeem himself for his earlier wayward behavior.

After a short distance, Katie noticed that Rebecca wasn’t able to keep up with the pace of the others. “Here, hook your arm into mine,” she said. “This doesn’t have to be a marathon.”

Gradually, they fell back and started a conversation to keep their minds off the road and the steady incline. Rebecca was a year or more younger than Katie and aching to talk with another woman about everything and anything, focused on the stuff of life, of family and feelings. Both were not afraid to reveal their fears and their dreams; share the histories of their children’s illnesses and their personality traits; and complain about the quirks of their husbands and the trials of their uteruses.