The Last Place on Earth (26 page)

“Fish sounds awesome.”

 

Thirty-Six

MISPLACING ONE CHILD
and having another injured while under my care wasn't enough to get me fired as head babysitter. Fortunately, Tuck slept away most of the afternoon, while Sassy and I made dolls out of the sticks and grass left over after Kyle had made me a blanket that wouldn't be featured in a Martha Stewart collection anytime soon but that beat freezing in the night.

There was no fish for dinner, but Kyle assured me he would try again tomorrow. His attention was starting to make me uncomfortable, but I did appreciate the blanket. And compared to the stew that Karessa and her mother were putting together for dinner—onion grass and weeds boiled with what looked like some kind of weasel—fish sounded amazing.

“You need to eat,” Mrs. Dunkle said when I told her I wasn't hungry.

“I'm fine,” I said, though my stomach cried out for sustenance.

“You get weak from hunger, you don't do us no good,” she added, just in case I thought her concern reflected any warm and fuzzy feelings for me.

“I'll have a small bowl,” I conceded. I was that hungry. But when I dipped a spoon into the watery mess, I pulled up a delicate piece of bone, and I just couldn't do it. I spilled the contents into Tuck's bowl, being careful to pick out the bones, and he downed it all in a few noisy gulps.

After dinner was cleanup time, then soon after that it got dark, and we all went into the cave to go to sleep, even though it was still early.

“Do you think we'll go back to the compound tomorrow?” I whispered to Kirsten.

“Dunno. My dad never tells us the plans.”

“Do you think the Hawkings and the Waxweilers might come?”

“Doubt it,” she said.

Resigned, I wiggled under my bark-grass-leaf blanket, which was surprisingly warm if not exactly soft. Unfortunately, I have a slight grass allergy.

“Choo!”
I sneezed.

“G'bless you,” Kirsten and Karessa said at once.

“Quiet over there!” Mrs. Dunkle scolded.

I squeezed my nose and held back a second sneeze. I was so tired, but I never went to bed this early, plus the ground under the tarp was cold and hard. Also, I kept thinking about my mother and brother and also Henry. He'd said he'd always protect me, and I'd believed him. What a fool.

My stomach growled. Man, I was hungry. If only I could eat a bowl of cereal … or a banana … or an In-N-Out burger. But no: The burger had once been a cow, and in the past two days, I'd grown repulsed by the idea of eating mammals, even the less cute ones.

My stomach growled again. It was going to be a long night.

I'd been lying there maybe an hour when Kirsten tapped on my blanket. There was a little light in the cave; I could just make out her silhouette. She pointed to the outside and motioned for me to follow her. She wiggled out of her sleeping bag and tiptoed around the sleeping forms.

It was chilly outside, but Kyle had the fire going. I sat next to Kirsten; Karessa was on the other side, next to Kyle. Above us, the stars glittered against blue velvet. The moon was nearly full and very bright.

“Here.” Karessa reached over Kirsten to hand me a plastic bag filled with crunchy stuff.

“Trail mix?” It seemed too good to be true.

“Our dad has at least five pounds of it in his Bob. He won't miss a little bit.”

I yanked open the bag, and some of the mix spilled on the ground.

“Don't leave any out here,” Kirsten said. “Bears.”

“Yeah, I know.” I stuffed a huge handful of nuts and dried fruit into my mouth, gagging a little.

“No need to hurry,” Kyle said. “No one's gonna take it from you.” He handed me a cup of water.

“Has this been sterilized?” As thirsty as I was, his story about the emergency room made me nervous.

“I wouldn't give it to you if it wasn't.”

I gulped the water and took another handful of trail mix, getting some chunks of chocolate this time around. I took care to chew more slowly.

By the time the bag was empty, I felt more like myself again, less shaky and not so much on the verge of tears. “Thanks for getting that for me,” I told Karessa.

“It was Kyle. I'm not brave enough to go in Daddy's pack.” She laughed.

“Thanks, Kyle,” I said.

“Can't let you go hungry. You're part of the family now. Family first, family second, family third.”

Since I didn't know what to say aside from
You're starting to creep me out
, I just kind of half smiled and half nodded. Then I poked my finger into the plastic bag to get the last little bit of salt.

“I got something else.” Kirsten handed me another bag, this one full of berries, but when I opened it, prepared to gorge, she pulled it out of my hands.

“You can't eat these,” she said. “They're ones from the creek. You know, for dyeing my hair.”

“Now?”

“We can't do it during the day.”

“I don't want your parents to get mad at me.”

“I won't tell them you did it,” Kirsten said. “And they get mad at me all the time, so who cares?”

We put the berries and some water in a metal cup and balanced it on the fire to boil down to glop. While that was cooking, Kirsten braided her hair into two plaits, which would be easier to hold in the cup. Once the purple glop was ready, she dipped one of her braids while the rest of us stared at the sky and Karessa tried to pick out the constellations.

“You want to do your hair, too?” I asked Karessa.

“Nah, I'm not crazy like Kirsten.”

“We're all crazy in this family,” Kyle said. “It's how we know we're related.”

“The white-blond hair is kind of a tip-off, too,” I said. “And the
K
names.” No one laughed. (The
K
names were
still
not funny.)

After it had soaked for about a half hour, Kirsten took her plait out of the cup. “Think it's done?”

“Sure,” I said, wanting desperately for things like purple hair to matter.

“If the world doesn't end, I want to be a hairdresser,” Kirsten said. “Or maybe a makeup artist.”

“I want to be a teacher,” Karessa said.

“I just want to be a survivor,” Kyle said. “And if you all are smart, you'll want the same thing.”

We let the second plait soak for roughly the same as the first. Then we dumped the gunk on the ground under a bush, rinsed the cup, and refilled it with a couple of rounds of clear water, which we used to rinse the ends of Kirsten's braids. After that there was nothing to do but wait till morning to see what her hair looked like when it was dry.

Kyle stood up and stretched. “I'm gonna put out the fire.”

Karessa pushed herself up to a standing position, then she and Kirsten headed for the cave. “We should all get some sleep.”

I lingered to look at the sky. I picked out the Big Dipper and the North Star.

“That's Little Bear, there.” Kyle had come up behind me. His breath was warm on my neck. “Can hardly see it when the moon's so bright.”

“Where?”

He put a hand on my left shoulder. “There.” He draped his other arm over my right shoulder and pointed at the night sky.

“Oh. Right.” I had no idea where the constellation was. And I didn't care. The stars had just lost their power to calm me.

I took a step forward, turned, and forced a smile. “It's late. I should really be getting to—”

Before I could finish the sentence, he closed the space between us, placed a hand on each of my shoulders, and bent down to kiss me. I was so surprised I didn't move. Kyle didn't move much, either. We were like two statues with our lips touching. After a few moments, he stepped back.

“Whew!” he said. “Wow.”

I didn't say anything.

He ran a hand through his thick, pale hair. “That night at the lookout tower, I thought maybe … but then you left.”

I still didn't say anything, but he answered my unspoken question anyway.

“We never got our turn.”

It took a moment to understand what he meant. And then I got it. He'd made Henry kiss Gwendolyn so that someone would make him kiss me. Or vice versa. But it didn't work out that way.

“I'm glad you're here,” he said. “Right now, I mean. But also, in general.”

“Thanks.” I tried to smile, but I couldn't. “I'd better go in.”

He grinned. “Yeah. We wouldn't want to get carried away.”

I practically ran back into the cave and burrowed under the bark blanket, half holding my breath in a futile attempt to keep from sneezing.

“Bless you,” whispered Kirsten in response to my semi-muffled sneeze. And then, after I murmured my thanks, she said, “I'm glad you and Kyle got some time alone.”

I pretended not to hear her.

*   *   *

The sound came in the early hours of morning. Just outside the cave, it was a kind of scratching, and then more of a banging. I sat up, shoving the heavy blanket down.

Was it Henry? Had he finally come? Or was this the Golden Horde, coming to steal our precious supplies?

Another sound came from just outside—an animal grunt.

I tensed. Around the cave, there were murmurs. Some rustling. Footsteps.

And then, a flash of light, and
CRACK!
An animal cry and another gunshot. And then … nothing.

An electric lantern flickered to life across the cave. “What in the name of holy heck?” From another corner, a flashlight beam danced across the floor.

A human form loomed at the mouth of the cave: Kyle.

“Bear,” he said. “I got her.”

Everyone scrambled up and out of the cave. Near the fire's ashes, a black mound lay on the ground. Keanu ran the flashlight over the form and up to the face. The creature's eyes glittered with agony.

“It's still alive,” Keanu said.

Kyle raised his shotgun and pointed it at the bear. The sound when he blew a bullet into the poor animal's chest was so loud I screamed. And then I screamed again when Keanu's flashlight illuminated the results.

“What's that bear even doin' here?” Mr. Dunkle's voice shook with anger. “Someone leave food out?”

“Provisions are all sealed up in the barrels,” Mrs. Dunkle said. “Checked before I went to sleep.”

My stomach dropped.
The trail mix.
I'd spilled bits on the ground and never cleaned them up. It was my fault the bear had come. It was my fault she was dead.

I whimpered aloud and opened my mouth, ready to make my confession, but Kirsten grabbed my arm and pinched.

Mr. Dunkle patted Kyle on the back. “Good job protecting the campsite, boy.”

“Just doin' my job.” He shot me a grin.

Kyle was the one who snuck out the trail mix in the first place. It was his fault, too, not that he bothered about things like blame.

But I bore most of the responsibility, and I knew it.

 

Thirty-Seven

THE SMELL OF
grilling meat woke me. My mouth watered with anticipation before I realized that those weren't store-bought burgers at a cookout.

I was a bear murderer. Okay, technically, Kyle was, but the whole thing was my fault.

No one else seemed bothered by this crime against nature. Mrs. Dunkle was outside, minding the fire. She didn't look happy—smiling was not in her facial repertoire—but she looked less miserable than usual. Nearby, Mr. Dunkle, Kyle, and Killer used enormous hunting knives to hack fur and skin off the poor creature. Mr. Dunkle was whistling.

The bear's head hung at an awkward angle, but her eyes were open. It felt like she was still alive, her gaze filled with terror and reproach. She had come to the cave because she was hungry. All she wanted was to nibble on a little trail mix and then find a cozy spot in which to sleep away the winter.

“We should save the head.” Mr. Dunkle squatted on his haunches and examined the bear's face. “Nail it to some wood and hang it up in the RV.”

“Gotta take the brains out first,” Kyle added. “Otherwise it's gonna rot and smell.”

Mr. Dunkle took his knife to the back of the animal's neck and sawed at the fur until blood covered his hands. “I always wanted a bearskin rug.”

“Can I keep a claw?” Killer asked. “So I can put it on a cord and wear it around my neck?”

Without meaning to, I made a noise, and they both looked up. Mr. Dunkle frowned, but Kyle smiled.

“Bear steaks for breakfast,” he said.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Won't be ready for a while anyways,” Kyle said. “Piece of meat on the fire is pretty thick.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No what?”

“I can't eat that,” I croaked.

Over at the fire, Mrs. Dunkle grunted with disgust. “You get hungry enough, you'll eat anything.”

I was about to protest, but then I realized that she might be right. I couldn't live on weeds and trail mix forever. At some point, I'd have to open myself up to rabbit or squirrel or maybe even bear. But not today.

I crept back into the cave and crawled under my bark blanket. I didn't think I'd fall asleep, but when the sounds of an argument roused me, I realized that it was considerably brighter outside, so I must have been out for some time.

“Are you out of your mind? You can't just kill a bear because you feel like it! You need a license! And bear tags!”

A man was shouting. His voice was familiar, but it wasn't Mr. Dunkle.

Mr. Dunkle's outburst came next. “It's a free country! Ain't no one gonna tell me what I can and can't do. 'Sides—look around and tell me if you see any park rangers checking for bear tags.”

“You work for us, in case you've forgotten.” It was Mr. Hawking.

I sat up.

“I work for myself,” he said. “And my family. No one else.”