Chapter 8: Headways

June 15, 2027

The corn field and the vegetable garden screamed for attention, constant, urgent and immediate attention. Clark and the girls knew that as first-timers they would have to overcome a steep learning curve to be successful at gardening. It would take more than just throwing some seeds into a hole in the ground in the hope that something would grow and could take several seasons to gain the experience and skills needed to produce enough to sustain themselves.

Up at the cabin, however, there were chores and work of a different nature, of equal if not greater importance, which had to be completed before the first snowfall.

Wood had to be gathered and chopped for the winter; a monumental effort.

The girls wanted to get two cuttings of grass from the clearing in front of the cabin to make hay.

And then there were projects that were essential and required much effort. They needed to build a chicken coop, finish the makeshift outhouse, and most important of all build a root cellar to store the grains and vegetables, the fruits of their efforts.

While they were away for three days tending to the field and garden, one of the chickens decided she wanted to hatch six eggs, apparently three of her own and the other three from her sister companions. So, suddenly from three chickens, they were going to end up with nine by the end of the summer. They were going to fatten up one for Thanksgiving and see how the others would turn out. They were going to keep one new rooster “to keep the ladies happy,” according to Sally.

In the canister of survival seeds, Clark found a pamphlet describing not only the importance of storing vegetables in a root cellar, but also simple instructions on how to build one. It did seem ironic that a well-accomplished architect of beautiful buildings would be drafting plans for a primitive structure such as a root cellar. However, that did not bother Clark. He was more concerned about the Herculean effort required to execute the project.

It took him and the girls the whole summer to get it done: five weeks to carve out a hole in the rocky ground, four weeks to erect walls and lay the ceiling similar to a mine shaft, and three weeks to literally bury it and cover it with sod, plus put up some shelves and a door. The work didn’t always go as smoothly as they had thought. They made lots of mistakes. One nearly buried Katie alive when the side wall caved in. But that didn’t discourage them or frighten Katie to try again and get it right.

The summer was exceptionally hot even up in the mountains. It was impossible for the girls to resist the urge to go naked most of the time as if they belonged to a nudist colony. They argued they didn’t want to get their clothes sweaty and dirty. Doing laundry was a grind.

It was hilarious to see them in their boots; only in their boots. Well, they did wear a paisley-patterned bandana around their necks in colors that matched their boots. It made all the difference fashion-wise.

“Don’t you think it’s a little risky walking around naked?” Clark asked them.

“I’m sure the birds and the raccoons don’t care,” Sally responded.

“What if a Sasquatch sees us?” Katie asked looking from side to side.

“We’re not his type. He’s only interested in big hairy women with big boobs and smelly armpits,” Sally answered.

The girls laughed and chased after Clark like forest nymphs teasing and trying to seduce him to take off his clothes too.

Most evenings, it was too warm to sleep in the cabin. They would eat outdoors, dance naked around a campfire like some primitive, pagan tribespeople and often sleep there until the fire died and the night air got too cool. Then, they would go inside and crawl under the bed covers.

They would also go looking for wild berries, nuts and edible mushrooms.

“Hey Sally, come over here. Look at this one. It looks a lot like Daddy’s mushroom head,” Katie would beckon her.

“It doesn’t look anything like me,” Clark would comment.

“Yeah, it’s too small, but we’ll eat it anyway,” Sally would add to the pun.

“Daddy or the mushroom?”

“Both!”

June 25, 2027

Their days were long and often arduous except on Sundays when they slept late and practiced a little religion of their own accompanied by a chorus of climactic praises before getting up.

Although way past the anniversary of their arrival to the cabin, Clark suggested they should lay down their tools and commemorate, by climbing to the highest point on the mountain. It was something they wanted to do for a long time to stand atop their world and scan the expanse below hoping for a glimmer of life.

They picked a perfect day as the sun shined to show the shadows moving with them. It took them a while to find the best path to overcome steep inclines and cliffs, but the hike was exciting and the scenery from above exhilarating.

The girls collected wildflowers along the way and fashioned wreathes to adorn their heads. They looked like the flower children or hippies of the bygone sixties, who wished for peace and love.

Clark was careful gathering stones and placing markers along their ascent so that they wouldn’t get lost or stray from a series of switchbacks on the way down. The girls understood the reason for his efforts, but loved teasing him anyway for looking like a caveman, telling jokes they remembered hearing at school.

“What do you call a wandering caveman?” Katie asked. “A Meanderthal.”

“Do you know when Homo habilis was able to stand on his two feet?” Sally asked in all seriousness. “When he became erectus.”

“Ok, I’ve got one for you girls,” Clark countered. “Why did the caveman drag his woman around by her hair? Because, if he dragged her by her ankles, her crack would fill with sand.”

“Oh, that’s gross, Daddy.” And they all laughed.

Once they reached the summit, they stood in silence to catch their breath and admire the brilliant sky. The sun was hot and they felt the need to shed their clothes, laughing like a bunch of school kids on their first day of summer camp.

Shading their eyes, they looked across the endless green wilderness below stretched on all sides. It was a gorgeous vista, the kind of view displayed in travel magazines. They could see far across the valley filled with evergreens, revealing the majesty and loneliness of the world around them. It was forever their world now.

To the west lay a long mountain range with steep ridges rising from gentle slopes, channeling a light, warm breeze from the south in their direction. They welcomed the breeze play through their hair and over their skin. It felt like a sensual whisper deliciously tickling their naked bodies and making them tingle allover.

Clark waved his hand across the ocean of green and pointed toward the horizon in the direction of the City. They were unable to see anything, no roads, no houses, nothing. Nor did they want to. They had shut out the grayness of the City, the traffic, people talking, the uninterrupted sounds of humming and whining.

Stepping back, Sally spotted a brass disc embedded in the rock. It was a geological survey marker showing an elevation of 3268 feet. They covered the ground with their clothes and sat around it, holding hands like at a séance, each trying to remember something from their past only to see blurred images.

Life before they came to the mountain now seemed like a distant memory, a silent movie in black and white, much of which they wanted to forget. Often, Clark looked out beyond his office window and dreamt he could get away from the noise and confusion of the City. Now, as he stood on top of their world looking over forests, hills and mountains, it gave him new meaning and spark, being able to share it with Sally and Katie.

They had done well the past twelve months as they contemplated their future. They were very happy to be together, and were sure they would be safe and comfortable by the time they returned to this same spot one year hence.

However, a dispiriting emptiness gnawed at their soul which they couldn’t understand. Even if they did, they were afraid to articulate it. They let the gentle breeze prey on their minds and carry away the name for their woe.

September 2027

Despite their concerns, their first harvest was surprisingly bountiful. They had nearly double the amount of corn and sunflower than they really needed. Clark was worried that the second generation of seeds they had collected from the previous year’s hybrid corn would end up producing a poor crop. To be true, there were many stalks that either grew no ears or ears that were barren of kernels. Still he was satisfied with the results, but vowed to plant only the heirloom seeds from the survivalist canisters the following spring.

The vegetable garden also produced more potatoes, cabbage, butternut squash and onions than they had expected. The root cellar was brimming. They also stored turnips, dry beans and carrots for the long haul, plus apples from the orchard. They kept enough of other vegetables such as beets, celery and leek that had a shorter shelf life to last at least until Christmas.

The girls wanted to prepare at least three meals per week using the vegetables to substitute the survival food. They were looking forward to increasing the vegetable garden in the spring. Clark also thought about cutting back on the corn and increasing the amount of wheat and oats.

Several weeks before Thanksgiving, they packed up nearly 100 pounds of produce they didn’t need or couldn’t store, including apples, to take to the monks.

Brother Matthew greeted Clark and the girls at the gate and was overwhelmed with joy to see them. The other two monks were in awe with the vegetables and showed the girls some recipes to make meals on a wood-burning stove. Venison stew immediately came to mind.

Brother Matthew informed Clark the latest news he had received from two other monasteries. Millions in cities all across the northern regions had migrated in droves on foot to warmer climes to avoid the coming winter. However, without food, shelter and security, most were dying along the way; the fittest survived living like savages.

Cities in the north were practically empty with the exception of a handful of stubborn fools who wouldn’t last through the winter. That meant there was no one else left other than probably the six of them in a radius of 300 or more miles.

However, Brother Matthew feared that their numbers would soon dwindle. Brother John, the oldest of the three monks, was not well and getting feeble more and more day by day. Clark did notice how he had aged so quickly from their last visit.

Before Clark and the girls left, they all had tea together, along with apple chips made from some of the apples they brought and the monks showed the girls how to make. They weren’t sure if they would be able to see each other on Thanksgiving. It would all depend on the weather. However, they did look forward to returning in the spring.

As Clark and the girls were leaving, Brother John gave the girls a pound of sugar and a small packet of cinnamon for them to make the apple chips. He trembled with tears rolling down his face as he hugged the girls good-bye.