The Last Tribe (34 page)

“I can be nice.  I just have not
found people I would like to be nice to yet.”  Solange said to Peter, smiling
at the tall white haired gentleman.  The young woman and old man continued to
trade one liners as Craig opened the door to the truck and moved into the third
row. 

Craig examined the new woman
sitting in the second row.  She did not say anything.  She sat in the Suburban
and stared.  The SUV was on and warm inside.  The woman leaned her head back,
enjoying relief from her hunger and cold for the first time in months.  Craig liked
her even though he had not spoken to her yet.  She had a kind face, and long, pretty
blond hair.  Her hair was filthy but beautiful.  It stuck through the back of a
Minnesota Twins baseball cap, dangling into the third row area.

Kelly turned around to look at
Craig.  “Hello, my name is Kelly.  What’s yours?”  She smiled at him.

“My name is Craig Dixon.”

“Another Dixon?  Did your entire
family survive?”  She continued to smile as she asked.

“My mom died, and so did two of my
aunts.  My brother and uncles are alive in New Hampshire.  We have to go find
them when the snow thaws.  Until the snow melts, we are looking for people like
you.”  Craig explained.

 “I’m sorry about your mother.” 
Kelly frowned, as if she said something wrong.  “I’m glad you found me.  There
are three young kids, two girls and a boy, who will be very excited to meet
you.”

“Awesome.”  Craig said back.

“It is awesome.”  Kelly agreed,
nodding.  Her eyes moved from looking at Craig to something over his shoulder. 
Craig turned around to follow her eyes.  She was staring at Hubba as the
bulldog hopped down the steps of the RV.

“That’s our dog, Hubba.  My Aunt
Emily rescued him.  He probably smelled the chili.  He doesn’t do much, sleeps
most of the time.”

Kelly had her hand cupped over her
mouth.  She moved out of her seat in the SUV and opened the door, running
passed Peter, Solange, and John as they moved toward the Suburban to leave.  
Kelly’s hand was still over her mouth.  Hubba’s nose was high in the air sniffing
the chili.

Kelly crouched down onto the tips
of her toes and hugged the dog.  Emily watched.  “Um, that’s our dog, Hubba.” 
She paused.  “Are you okay?”

Kelly was crying, rocking and
hugging the dog.  Hubba licked her tears, finding something tasty in the young
woman’s dirty face.

“I’m a veterinarian.  I haven’t
seen a dog in half a year.”  She turned and faced Hubba.  The dog still licked
her face.  “You’re a good boy, what a good boy.” 

“Hubba’s my miracle dog.  For
obvious reasons, but also because I found him on a house tour, half dead,
locked in the governor’s mansion.  He’s made a full recovery, as you can see.” 
Hubba enjoyed the attention and the salty tear face.  If he had a tail, it
would have been wagging.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see a
dog again.”  Kelly smiled and backed away.  “I can’t believe you found a dog.” 
She rubbed Hubba behind the ears.

“Kelly?  We should get going.” 
John said from the driver’s side of the Suburban.  “Hubba will be here when you
get back.  Trust me, he doesn’t go anywhere.” 

Kelly stood and looked at Emily. 
“Thank you.  Thank you for coming for us.  Thank you for feeding me.  Thank you
for having a dog.”  She stepped forward and hugged Emily. 

“You’re welcome.”  Emily replied,
surprised by the emotion, and embracing the stranger.

Kelly let go.  “Okay, I’m off.” 
She looked down at Hubba, sitting at the feet of his new friend.  “A dog.  An
entire family and a dog.  Unbelievable.”  She shook her head as she went back
to the Suburban.

“So, you really like dogs, huh?” 
John said, smiling.

“I am, or was, a vet, large animals
mainly, horses really.  I worked at the Aqueduct racetrack and at Belmont
racetrack, and I volunteered for the NYSPCA a lot too.”

“Sounds like an exciting job.” 
Peter chimed in. 

Kelly was suddenly at ease with the
group, less reserved than she was before she met Hubba.  “Well, most of the
horse owners and trainers had their own vets.  I was just on call.  It’s how I
got the job at such a young age.  I didn’t get to do much.  I’ve only been a
vet for a year.  I was the assistant vet, doing a large animal residency at the
racetracks.”

“Well, we are glad to meet you.  As
I said, my name is John Dixon.  My son, Craig, is behind you.  Before we take
off down Fifth Avenue, can you tell me where I am going?  I’m not from Manhattan. 
When you say ‘Chelsea’ I have no idea what you are talking about, other than
knowing I can hit golf balls there.”

“Okay,” Kelly laughed.  “You are
going to stay on Fifth Ave until you get to Madison Square Garden.  Take a
right onto 21st just past the Garden.  21
^st
goes right to the
seminary.”

“And we’re off.”  John said as he
put the Suburban into gear.

“Eleven more people.”  Todd said to
Emily and Melanie, shaking his head as he watched the SUV drive away.  “This is
going to cut into our food in a serious way.  We can feast tonight, maybe for a
few days, but we will need to stop in some towns and scavenge for food stores
on our way to Boston.”

“We’ll do what we need to do.  I
knew taking on more people was a risk, but think about the upside of having
twenty four people heading to Hanover rather than seven.  We have fifteen
adults now.  Let’s get through the next few meals.  We can figure out what to
do.”  Emily was not worried.  They had enough food in the RV’s to feed the
group for a month.  She also believed they would find food as soon as they left
New York City.

“And you picked up a doctor.” 
Melanie smiled, hinting she was part of the described upside.

“I know, I know, I just worry about
the food.  We have enough.”  He stared at the pot of chili.  “We’ll let the
kids eat this chili now, and I’ll get started on something else.  How long do
you think I have?  An hour?”

Emily and Melanie shrugged their
shoulders and held up their hands in the universal “we don’t know,” gesture.

Matt was busy directing the younger
kids in preparation for the arrival of the new group.  He was tasked with
setting up chairs, getting the other tables out from under the RV’s, getting
paper plates and flatware ready.  They had two fire pits that needed to be set
up and set ablaze.

Matt pulled the kids into a tight
circle around himself.

“Okay guys and gals, let’s go eat
and then be ready to help when the new people come to camp.  Eat until you are
full so you aren’t thinking about food later.  Great job on setting up the tables
and making the camp inviting.”

“Do we know if they like soccer?” 
Brian asked excitedly about the kids coming to the camp.

“No, we don’t.  I don’t know their ages
either.”  Matt answered questions, as off the wall as they were. 

“So there might be another little
girl?”  Casey asked hopefully.

“Um, I’m a girl.”  Jaclyn said
quickly.

“You’re not little though, and you
like sports.”  Casey clarified.

Matt jumped in to avoid a problem. 
“I don’t know the ages or whether they are boys or girls.  I don’t know if they
like soccer either, but we will find out soon.”  He handed bowls of chili out
as the kids walked up to him.

“Are they going to come with us to
Hanover like Jaclyn, Jacob, and Casey?”  Jay asked between large spoonfuls of
chili.  Soccer made him hungry, and he was afraid he would have to share his
food with the new people. 

“We don’t know.”  Emily said as
Matt struggled to answer.  “All we can do is be nice, and ask them to come with
us.  They will decide on their own.”  She patted Matt on the back, and left him
to run the group. 

Todd and Melanie were inside the RV
preparing food.  They ate bites of chili as they worked.  Emily came inside to
join them.

Todd made spaghetti with meat
sauce.  It was kid friendly and easy to prepare.  The meal also saved well,
allowing him to make more than he thought necessary and put leftovers in the
fridge.  He was not sure how much the new people would eat, and he prepared
enough for an army.

“I wonder why they stayed in New
York City if they didn’t have enough food.”  Melanie said as she opened cans of
green beans and poured them into a pot.  She always insisted on serving a
vegetable.

“That’s a great question.  I don’t
know.  Maybe they were trapped by snow until recently.  Maybe they thought they
had enough food to get through the winter and miscalculated.  We’ll have to ask
them. “  Todd placed two pots of water on the stove to boil. 

“Kelly seemed nice for the five
minutes we got to speak with her.”  Emily looked out the window at the kids,
who laughed as they ate.  “I just realized I haven’t had dinner.”  She opened
the door and walked out to the chili, filling a bowl and grabbing two cornbread
muffins. 

“Who’s ready to meet some new people?” 
She asked the table.

“Us!” the group replied
enthusiastically. 

Emily winked at Matt.  “I am too.” 
She said.  “I am too.”

Rebecca turned the cottage’s dining
room into a project center.  The bathtub was still next to the fireplace
because of the hole they cut into the floor, but chairs were no longer stacked
on the large table.  A computer, books, maps, and charts were spread out in
their place.  Print outs and models adorned the alcove’s walls.

Inputting information was the new
favorite pastime of the house.  They had eight laptop computers.  Four were
plugged into solar chargers and placed near a window, while the other four were
used to input data.  Rebecca selected a topic for the day.  She would simply
say “rainfall” and the group would input rainfall statistics from the past 25
years by month for North America.  The days of copying and pasting large
datasets from the internet were gone.  Inputting the information by hand was
the new reality.  Their use of the computers was limited.  They would charge
batteries on the solar chargers during the day, and input for the two or so
hours the battery life allowed.  It was a frustratingly slow system, but it was
working.  They had climate, animal, insect, reptile, amphibian, and crop
information inputted.  They used thumb drives to move the data from each of
their laptops onto Rebecca’s master computer.

Rebecca, Paul, Hank, and Greg
discussed relevant statistics endlessly.  The most subjective factor was
“availability.”  What did that mean?  Could they realistically get to Australia
if they needed to get to Australia?  Was Okinawa a realistic destination?  Was
the Mediterranean?  Days were spent debating their ability to move to
California as opposed to Virginia.  Should travel be incorporated into the
model?  Did moving 500 miles require the same effort and difficulty as moving
2,000 miles?

The cottage did not spend all of
their time working on the model.  They had to survive.  Greg had become a
skilled trapper in the last few months.  The shotguns and rifles were
considered a finite resource, and the group relied more on trapping or bow
hunting rather than bullets.  They did not know how to fill shotgun shells or
make gun powder.  The guns would soon be as obsolete as cars.

As the weather turned warmer, they
were able to fish.  Soft spots opened on Occom Pond and the surrounding lakes. 
They cut holes in the ice and dropped lines.  Hank and Greg spent hours trying
to catch fish and game for dinner, while Paul and Rebecca stayed in the cottage
working on the “destination model.” 

Hank and John were brothers, and
they loved each other, but they were not close friends.  They did not see each
other outside of family events like weddings or anniversaries.  The brothers
drifted apart over the last 30 years, as did their families.  As a result, Hank
did not know his nephew well.  They spent much of their time getting to know
each other.

Greg enjoyed his Uncle Hank.  They
had a mutual love of baseball, and talked endlessly about statistics and
players.  Hank had seen most of the players Greg idolized. 

The snow was melting at the
beginning of April.  Hank and Greg enjoyed their first 45 degree sunny day, and
joked about how it felt like 80 degrees after the long cold winter.  They drove
a Jeep Wrangler to a trout club on the other side of the Connecticut River.  A
pier was left in the frozen lake, extending out into deep water.  Using heavy
rocks and long sticks, Hank and Greg made holes in the thinning ice at the end
of the pier.  They caught five rainbow trout using bait and hooks.  Hank
commented at how aghast his father would be if he were alive to see bobbers and
bait at the esteemed dry fly club. 

The lake was owned by a trout
fishing club, tucked away in Norwich, Vermont, across the Connecticut River from
Hanover.  Heavy snow had prevented access to the lake except by snowmobile, and
upon arrival they would have to dig a path onto the lake, and use a chainsaw to
cut through the thick ice.  It was an arduous method for fish, and took the
entire day to yield a few if any trout.  As the snow melted and the ice
thinned, the journey became easier, and the fishing more rewarding.  Now that
Hank and Greg had better access, they fished the well stocked lake often.

Hank parked the Jeep, tricked out with
large tires and giant treads, at the bottom of Wheelock Street.  The street’s intimidating
hill was still covered in snow and ice.  It was an invitation to wrecking the
Jeep, and injuring the drivers.  They opted to walk the half mile to and from
the cottage each time they fished for trout. 

Today was their third outing to the
trout club in the last week.

Hank used the trip to the club to
teach Greg how to drive.  They practiced going to and from Norwich, sometimes
two or three times each trip. 

“Don’t get too used to driving. 
We’re going to run out of gas, or the gas we have is going to go bad soon. 
Unless we find a person who knows how to refine oil, we’ll be riding bikes and
horses from here out.”  Hank teased.

“I’m glad I learned to drive before
cars become useless.  I’ll always be able to say ‘back when we drove cars…” 
Greg bragged.

They finished the steep walk up
Wheelock hill and turned left on Main Street heading to the cottage.  The five
large fish swung from the chain creel hanging from Greg’s hip.  They were
friends more than uncle and nephew, and talked about baseball as they made
their way home.

“I saw Randy Johnson pitch in
Cincinnati.  He was with the Diamondbacks, and was incredible.  First of all
he’s like eight feet tall, and he’s only 60 feet away from you and standing on
a mound, then he’s throwing heat that breaks, then he’s throwing a pitch with
the same arm motion that is like 80 m.p.h.  I don’t know how the Reds’ batters
put wood on the ball.”  Hank enjoyed talking about his baseball experiences. 
Greg soaked it up.

“That’s crazy.  So he’s the best
you’ve ever seen?”  Greg could listen to stories about baseball all day. 
Growing up in South Carolina meant he did not have access to the major
leagues.  Even though he spent the last year near Boston, he did not see any
Red Sox games.

“He was up there.  I saw a lot of
guys though.  Maddux would give up hits, but he never gave up runs, so he was
totally different.  He’d throw 80 pitches and be done in 2 hours.  Such a rare
pitcher, he didn’t waste pitches.”  Hank finished his comments as they reached
the cottage.  It was noon, and he was hungry.

Hank swung the interior mudroom door
open and felt the warm dry air blow out of the cottage.  “The wood stove is
definitely on.”  He said to Greg.

 “Hey!”  Rebecca waved to them
excitedly from her seat at the computer.  “We’ve narrowed our move to a few
places.  I think we’ll end up near the ocean in Virginia or make the long trek
out to Northern California.  I can’t decide if earthquakes are worse than
hurricanes.  Both are about as likely.  It depends on how long we want it to
take to get to our final spot, and if we want to incorporate finding other
survivors into our model.” 

“My dream of living in Hawaii is
gone?”  Greg lamented.

“It’s too far.  We don’t have boats
or planes.  I mean, I guess we have boats, but we don’t have anyone to captain
the boat to get us there.”  She explained systematically.  “So yes, it’s over
Greg, sorry.”

“I was so close.  So close.”  He
laughed. 

“Hey, Rebecca, how is the morning
going?”  Hank asked.  The angry, sad, paranoid man who arrived at the cottage
two months ago was melting away, replaced by a happy and relaxed father
figure.  Rebecca’s optimistic and infectious view of life was the leading cause
of Hank’s rebirth.

“I don’t know.  Am I eating trout
for lunch?”  She asked.

Hank held up the five large fish. 
“Lunch and dinner.”

“Then I am having a great day.” 
She said with a smile.  “Paul and I can tweak the model more, but I don’t think
the results will change.  Greg is right, Hawaii would be our number one choice
if we could get there, but given the travel limitations, California or Virginia
are our next best options.  Also, Hawaii probably means not finding new people.”

“But if we can get to Hawaii?” 
Greg asked.

“Well, if we can get there, then we
should go.  Kauai has chickens, wild boar, fish, few insects, no snakes, no
predators, it is always the same temperature.  It always rains on one part of
the island.  It’s always sunny on the other part.  The growing season is 12
months.  If we bring seeds and livestock, we could create a sustainable
colony.  Other than sunburn, it will be the best place to move.  I can’t see
how we can get there without modern equipment, but if we can get there, pack
your bags.”  Rebecca spoke with authority and confidence.

Hank undressed from the morning
expedition.  “Well then, let’s switch our efforts from where to go to how to
get there.”  He hung his fleece lined flannel shirt on a hook next to the
door.  “If you say Kauai is where we need to go, let’s figure out how we can
get there.  If you tell me we can’t get there after research, I’ll believe you
and we’ll focus on California or Virginia.  Let’s give the Hawaii plan a good
try.”

“Another project?”  Rebecca asked.

“Another project.”  Hank agreed. 
“Let’s have some lunch first.  Greg has exciting news.”

Paul walked in the room from the
kitchen.  He looked at Greg with anticipation.  Greg sat on the floor pulling off
his socks.  Despite his waterproof and insulated boots, his socks always seemed
to get wet.  “Oh man does that feel good.  I can’t wait to not wear two pair of
socks.”

“Well?”  Paul asked.  “What’s the
news?”

Greg smiled and looked at Hank,
then back at Paul and Rebecca.  “We saw the highway through the snow.  We saw
road down the valley.  The snow is clearing.  We can leave if we need to.”  He
paused.  “More importantly, people can come here if they try.”

Smiles crept across the four
faces.  They beamed in silence, reveling in the news for a few moments. 

“I say it’s business as usual, but
we prepare for other people to arrive during our spare time.”  Hank suggested.

The comment elicited a chuckle from
Paul.  “Yeah, all of our free time.”

Hank brought the fish into the
kitchen.  He used olive oil, herbs, and seasoning on three of the trout before
placing them in the oven for lunch.  He packed the largest two in snow on the
porch for dinner. 

Hank found several indoor herb kits
at the hardware store when he first arrived, and grew dill, basil, thyme,
cilantro, and parsley on a kitchen window sill.  He used the herbs sparingly. 
They added a great dimension to fish and other foods.  He typically used the
abundance of dried herbs, but some things, like trout, called for fresh.  Hank
opened two cans of mixed vegetables and placed them in a pot on the stove.

Fifteen minutes later the fish and
vegetables were ready.  The extreme heat of the wood stove oven and burners
meant food was finished quickly.  The group sat around the kitchen table.  They
tore bread from a large loaf baked that morning, ate their fish and vegetables,
and drank water.

“We have at least a couple of weeks
before John and Todd arrive.”  Paul began.  “We’ve had a great few months,
living as a little family here, but it’s time to plan for our next phase.”  He
put some of the fish in his mouth and let out an audible ‘mmm.’  “You’ve
outdone yourself, Hank.  The flavoring and preparation of the fish is getting
better every day.”

“Thank you, sir.”  Hank replied. 
“And I agree.  We should clear the upstairs bedrooms of wood, sweep them, get
them ready for occupants.”

“We’ve used all of the wood upstairs. 
Paul and I have been filling the wood bins from the van supply for a few days. 
We do need to clean the upstairs.  We have clothes and boots for newcomers. 
Let’s focus on acquiring all the food we can find.  Dried food, canned food,
boxed food, anything we can move.”  Rebecca added.

Greg ate his fish, bread, and
vegetables in silence as the other three made plans.  It was too much for him
to hope.  He was a few weeks from seeing his father and brothers.  It had been seven
months since he heard his father’s voice.  Eight months since he joked with his
brothers, or threw a baseball to Matt.  Eight months since he sat around a
table with his family and shared a meal.  If he thought about it too much, he was
overwhelmed.  ‘Focus on the day to day.’  He often told himself.

Greg felt a hand bump his leg under
the table.  It was Rebecca’s.  She squeezed his knee, and he looked up from his
food to smile at her.  She gave him a knowing look.  They talked about his
family all the time.  She knew how excited he was to see his father and
brothers.  Greg slipped his hand under the table and placed it over hers. 

Hank and Paul laughed about some
old story from their childhood in Hanover while the teens held hands under the
table.