The day after that was the last of the year. Charlinder stayed up with the rest of the village as the celebration raged on into the night, but to his curiosity and slight disappointment, none of his friends tried to pull him away to a secluded spot and take off his pants that night. On the first day of 2131, however, Meredith took him behind the smokehouse, where they had a good time together.
"So, who's the special girl?" Roy asked that evening after they came in from dinner.
"Which 'special girl'?" Charlinder reacted, now completely wrong-footed.
"I know you're doing sex, and a lot of it this week. I can smell it on you."
"Oh, shit," he cringed. "Sorry." He sat down on his bed and took off his moccasins.
"Don't apologize," Roy chuckled as he reclined on his bed, "just tell me, who's the lucky girl?"
"Meredith today. Before that, it was Yolande," he went on, while Roy’s eyes opened wide, "then Phoebe," Charlinder felt his face burn while his uncle struggled not to laugh, "then Sunny."
"Damn," Roy began.
"No, please don’t--"
"My nephew, the sex god!"
Charlinder buried his face in his hands. "Stop it, Uncle!"
"I always knew you had a way with the ladies, but this?"
"Shut up!"
"This is really something!"
"I'll hit you!"
"Oh, pfft, I may be old, but I can still knock you down with one hand!"
"You want me to smack you in the face with a wool card? Because that’ll leave a mark!"
"You haven't landed a good shot in anyone's face since you delivered Robert a fresh knuckle sandwich when you were
seven
."
Of course that was true; he could threaten Roy about as well as he could order a buck to fall on his arrow.
"Shit," Charlinder muttered, "I wish I knew what was going on."
"Char, it's not just a river in Egypt."
"I don't know what you're saying."
"That's simple: you love the ladies, and they love you!"
"Aaaagh!" he groaned.
"If it makes you this uncomfortable that your spinning buddies are all jumping your bones, you could just tell them no," Roy suggested. "I think they'd understand."
"Why in the hell would I do something like that?!" Charlinder demanded.
"Because this is obviously bothering you so much?"
"You're the one who's bothering me! The sex is the only thing in my life right now that feels good!"
The ridiculous grin dropped off Roy’s face; they both just looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Okay, then," said Roy. "Sorry I asked."
Charlinder got into bed and faced the wall.
"Anyway," said Roy, "Have you decided on a date of departure yet? Do you know exactly when you’re leaving us?"
Charlinder figured it would have been much better if Roy had started with that question. "I’ll leave by the middle of the month."
"The fifteenth? Sixteenth? We need specifics here."
"I haven't quite figured that out yet, okay?"
"Then you need to figure it out soon."
As he fell asleep, his mind took him back to Sunny's teeth on his ear, Kenny's laughing face as they waited in a tree for passing game, Judith teaching her first math lesson at school, Miriam and Roy sitting him down to ask him what was the matter, his youngest students running up for hugs on the last day of school before Christmas, and afternoons in Spinners' Square with all his friends bursting into laughter. He pictured the weeks in Spring right after the sheep had their lambs, and the time just after harvest when the whole community finally breathed a sigh of relief. All those and more memories ran together in a steady loop with his uncle's gentle snoring in the background. Suddenly, the time left until the middle of the month seemed too short.
Chapter Eleven
Compass
On the other side of a good night’s sleep, Charlinder still wasn’t satisfied with his uncle’s account of the "river in Egypt" remark. There was something Roy knew about what was going on that he hadn’t said in so many words, and Charlinder was afraid to ask him to spell it out. It hadn’t been his first time with Sunny, Meredith or Phoebe, so having any one of them come onto him would have been welcome and not in need of any explanation. All four in such a short span of time was a different matter. Which was not to say that he regretted any of those encounters in the least; as bizarre as the sudden burst of sexual activity was, the only thing more unthinkable was the idea that he would turn it down. He thought he would never really be finished preparing, but even with inadequate provisions, he would still be taking too much away from the village. Letting his spinning buddies jump his bones (as his uncle put it) was a reprieve from the competing anxieties he had to manage. He enjoyed it, he could see that they enjoyed it, and he wasn’t taking anything away from someone else. Alone with one of his friends, he didn’t have to think about the risks he was about to take.
Even after Roy’s admonition to tell them how much longer it would be, he didn't set a departure date right away. On the morning of the third, he still didn't feel ready to decide exactly when he would leave. Nadine found him hiding behind the kitchen with his spindle that afternoon. It wasn't quite as nice as Spinners' Square--in fact it was downright depressing--but he needed to be productive without his neighbors watching, as he couldn't tell whether they wished him luck or assumed they'd never see him again.
"Char, could you check one of the spinning wheels for me? I think there's a problem with the turning shaft," she asked. He went off with her to the textile shed.
"All better now," he showed her after oiling the part in question. "Just keep it lubricated, make sure everything's bolted straight, and it should hold up."
"Good," she agreed. "Let's go for a walk."
It occurred to him that she could have easily fixed the spinning wheel herself. He also noticed they were headed towards the schoolhouse. The question came out before he even considered how gauche it would sound.
"Nadine, are you about to seduce me?"
She let go of his arm, looking either scandalized or impressed.
"Because I hope you are," he finished.
"In fact I am," she answered with a smile.
"Then let's do it."
After they finished, he said, "you know you're the fifth one to come onto me since Christmas?" They were snuggled together between the blankets, determined to stay there for as long as the fire crackled.
"What, are we a little too much for you?" she asked, grinning.
"I'm not complaining," he insisted, "but, did you all get together and plan this?"
"You make it sound like we're doing something sneaky."
"Are you trying to keep me from leaving?"
"Of course not. We just want you to leave with some happy memories."
"Oh, I will. But that doesn't explain why none of you brought your condoms."
Nadine shrugged, too quickly for Charlinder's liking. "We don't need them right now."
"So, what do you think Miriam would say about all five of you doing unprotected sex with me in less than two weeks?"
"Miriam knows," she replied, as though he should have known that much already. “Why would she stand in the way?”
He didn’t talk to his uncle until suppertime, and no one else for the rest of the day. They weren't angry at each other, they simply didn't need to talk. They were eating dinner at their usual spot in the Meeting Square before Charlinder spoke up.
"It'll be the sixteenth," he said between bites of soybean stew.
"Pardon?"
"I'll leave on the morning of the sixteenth," he told Roy.
"Good. I'm glad that's decided."
Word of his departure date spread around the village by the following afternoon. Every time he saw Eleanor, the first thing she would say was, "Only twelve more days," then eleven, and so forth, looking more shocked and crestfallen every day.
The fifteenth of January was his last day. He knew there would be some kind of farewell for him that evening, but he only wanted to get the day finished. Roy took Charlinder to see Darrell shortly before lunch, though why he needed to see the medic by then, he couldn't imagine.
"Your uncle and I want to give you something before you leave," said the old man when they arrived at the infirmary.
"I hope it isn't heavy," said Charlinder, at which his uncle and Darrell chuckled.
"It's very small and light," said Roy. "We were searching around the Council's storage cell, with all those pre-Plague things, and we found something I think you'll want to carry with you."
Darrell took the lid off his trunk and soon came out with something small and round in his hand. He handed the little disk of metal to Charlinder, who was astounded to turn it over and find a pane of glass over a needle wobbling between the letters of N, E, S and W arranged around the face.
"It's not every day you find one of them hiding in a pot of venison fat," said Darrell, upon seeing the look on Charlinder's face.
"Yeah, I think I can carry this," he said.
The farewell feast that night was a tedious affair. It was a time for everyone to say their goodbyes to him, but he would have been just as happy to let them come over and say a few words over the regular meal at the meeting square. The strange thing about the setting was that the room was not big enough to hold over 150 people; Roy confirmed that the Faithful were not there, as they were off having a prayer session on Charlinder’s behalf. He wanted to point out that it was rather odd for them to pray over someone who saw prayer as a waste of time, but no matter; they could do with their spare time as they would.
It was better after he was allowed to leave his seat and mill around the room. Darrell gave Charlinder his space, Judith was there but had already said her goodbyes, and Miriam never fully stopped crying all evening. She kept telling Charlinder that she loved him, to please take care of himself, and that no one would blame him if he changed his mind. After her younger daughter pulled her away for the second time, Roy found Charlinder and took him outside.
"You can go back to our cabin now," he said. His voice seemed oddly amplified against the sudden quiet of the dark, freezing air. "If you want to get up early, you don't want to wait for this to wind down."
"Won't they miss me?"
"Don't worry about them," Roy waved him off. "You know this is more for their sake than yours."
Charlinder did as his uncle suggested. There was nothing waiting in their block of the village except a rooster they'd brought over to their cabin that afternoon. The bird was now asleep on a pad of wool felt outside the door. Charlinder went inside and to bed, knowing he would not sleep any time soon.
Part 2: North America
Chapter Twelve
Road
The rooster's crowing woke him up as planned. The early morning sky showed no sign of the sun, but he'd kept his pack in the same spot for so long there was no trouble finding it in the dark. The compass still hung from his neck by the 3-ply wool yarn he'd strung through its metal loop the previous day. He was always fully dressed at that time of year, so all he had to do was put on his coat and moccasins and he'd be off with his pack.
From the weak light through the window, Charlinder was relieved to see that Roy was still asleep and facing the wall. He bent down by the head of the bed and waited for Roy to turn to the side. Charlinder leaned down and kissed his uncle just above his cheekbone. Roy stirred very slightly, but didn't wake.
Charlinder stood up and put on his pack. "I love you, too," he said before opening the door.
The first place he went was the sheepfold. After stomping his way around the perimeter of the fold, he snuck into the stable for the barnyard tools. The village owned two pairs of sheep shears. Charlinder took the smaller and stiffer pair and loaded it into the bottom compartment of his pack. He didn't feel good about stealing the shears, but they still had metal to shape into new ones, and they had the better pair to use. He also grabbed a length of rope; a smaller gauge than the type they used to tether horses, long enough to fashion into a lead. When he returned to the sheepfold, they were awake. They bleated angrily at him, clearly wondering why this glorified monkey had woken them up so early and when they would be milked. He squatted down to their eye level. Soon one of them came pushing through the flock. She wasn't bleating so much, but definitely coming towards Charlinder. Finally the ewe stopped within inches of his face, meeting his eyes. He recognized the animal that had eaten clover blossoms from his hand the last time he'd gone with Miriam to graze the sheep.
"You look like a nice girl," he said, then stood up and tied the rope around her chest and neck. "Come on, let's go for a walk."
Charlinder shut the sheepfold's half-height door behind them, and led his new companion to the gravel road leading north out of the farm.
Upon reflection in later months, he knew that the first day was the hardest. Navigation was simple enough at that point; he followed the Paleola northwest for as long as there was a river. It was the routine--or rather, the attempt at creating one--that challenged him so much.
The sheep walked agreeably along at his side in the dark for the first few hours after he milked her. That was the first inconvenience; he had to express her milk into his clay pot first, and then he carried the pot along with them for a while, drinking from it occasionally, before he had to admit that carrying an open vessel of that size and shape, while mostly filled with a rapidly cooling liquid, was a very awkward business. Therefore he stopped again, got out his leather bottle, and had a very tedious and wasteful time of transferring the milk into it from the pot before he had to stuff the pot back into its section of his pack and tie the bottle up to his belt.