Starvation Ridge: Abide the Fire -- Chapter Ten

Ro-eena stood up, stretched again, and walked over to the field glasses. She almost tripped over Selk, who had been up much of the night. Applying her still-sleepy eyes to the eyepieces, she swung the field of view toward the South Fire. "Oh-oh," she said to the empty Control Room.

    Savage Mary, looking even more frightful with her recently shaved head, rolled in. "I hate that."

   Ro-eena turned to greet her. "Ma'am?"

    "Any time anybody says, 'Oh-oh.' Doc Chaney was working on my old knees once, with me tied down and a bone in my teeth, and he went 'oh-oh' and I spit the bone out and about ripped myself loose. 'What, what?' says I. 'Nothin', says he. 'Whaddya mean, nothin?' says I. 'I know what "oh-oh" means.' Sunnabitch laughed. Oh, well. I'm a prime argument for entropy; I'll never be out of this chair, a bed, or the compost again. So what's up, kid?"

    "The fire is over Folsom Mountain."

    "Well, we knew that would be right about now. Th' sling psychrometer showed nineteen percent humidity yesterday, and th' duff hygrometer says seven percent at an "inch" underground, and that's on the north side of Ridge. We are at about th' best conditions for a blow-up I've ever heard of."

    "But we have a smoke team over there, ma'am."

    "Yes, we do. And likely to lose 'em. I can't help 'em, nor you can't help 'em. So we do what we do. Karen and Deela, for example, are loading twenty-twos to beat th' band. Most everybody else is cuttin' fire line. You're watching for more fires."

    "Yes, ma-am."

    "Aw, I shouldn't be hard on ya. Heat's got me crabby. I'm drenched in this naw-ga-hide seat. Show me your South Fire."

    Ro-eena cranked down the tripod a few inches and stepped back. Selk stirred in his blanket and pulled a corner of it over his head. Mary rolled past him and leaned forward in her chair to reach the eyepieces.

    "Mmm ... hmmm ... " Mary panned left and right for a few seconds and wheeled round to face her young friend. A broad, wry smile creased her craggy features. "Yep. Ugly. You might as well look everywhere else but there, honey. It's apt to go to one-oh-five this afternoon, and if it does, that one will be over th' Calapooya and in our laps by sundown. Tell ya what. I'll spell ya here, won't ya run down to th' pee-ex and get me some homebrew. Times like this, about all ya can do is have beer for breakfast."

:::

    Marleena sat by the circle of red light on the floor of Roundhouse, rubbing deerhide with her scraper. That light had been red for days; daylight passed through thick clouds of smoke far above the valley, and by the time it reached the smokehole at the peak of the roof, had dimmed considerably. Near the pool of light from the smokehole was the only place she could see to work well, unless she went outside; but outside was too hot these days.

    The area near the firepit and the well was the commons; here meetings were held, and those who felt like eating together did so; toward the walls were the sleeping pallets. The Roundhouse had room in it for a hundred to sleep, though their numbers were down to around fifty. More like forty at the moment she thought sourly, with parties of men gadding off to Oz, as she thought of it in her mind: something from a story of her mother's. 

    Starvation Creek, the Emerald City. Ha! "They have this, they have that! You should see it!" Only one thing she wished to know; if Roundhouse were attacked, would these wonderful wizards come to their aid? "Would they die for us?"

    "They might."

    "Josep! Home at last. Did I say that out loud?" She covered her mouth with her hand. "Have you eaten?"

    "I have Bolo with me; he's looking for Jorj. We have not, and would appreciate food, wife." Josep smiled, shyly.

    Marleena stood up, a bit stiffly, and stepped over to the well, where a bucket stood on a sideboard half full. With an old mug, she dipped up a cupful of water for her man, and gave it to him, then fetched a bag of pemmican strips, handing him one.

    "The Lord be praised for you that you are my wife," Josep said as he took the pemmican.

    "The Lord be praised for you that you are my husband," she replied. She looked round the room. A few of the older people were abed near the walls; someone turned over and lay still. Flies buzzed. "Did not everyone return with you? Where is Miss Krall?"

    "They are helping with fire lines. Krall has taken up with a fine young man named Tomma. She is enjoying herself and is good for morale. Some of these people have never seen a dog." Josep, chewing, looked round, then spoke with his mouth full. "Roundhouse so empty!"

    "We are in hunting camps. The fires have confused the animals and so the men are killing them and the women are dressing meat and hides. I am keeping an eye on the old people, but they have brought me some work to do, even so."

    "This is always the way with us. We cannot defend ourselves if we hunt enough; and if we are prepared to defend ourselves we cannot hunt enough. And this year there will be no crops and little fish." He looked at the cup with distaste.

    "I am sorry about the water, my husband; the water in the well is very low."

    "And, yes, there is the well. I know you do not like the idea of joining with the people to the south; but they are more than a hundred; they have food; they have weapons, they have electricity and most of them have good hearts."

    "Electricity?"

    "Yes, there is a generator of some kind in a hill."

    "We have electricity. In a way."

    "Yes, when Deerie is running. But she needs most of it for herself; and as Jorj says, when you run a machine it is spending a part of its life."

    "Bolo is looking for Jorj ... "

    "To ask for Deerie, yes. She is needed for the fire lines around the fields at the Creek."

    "I knew it!" Marleena fairly spat the words. "You will lead us there, and give everything we have to these people whom we do not know, and Roundhouse will be no more."

    "It is always wisest, wife, to seek to do the wisest thing. I must find the hunters and hold talk; everyone's mind should be spoken on this thing." Only now did Josep shed a strange backpack that he was carrying; he set it down at her feet. 

    "What is this thing?" she asked.

    "It is a kind of packsack that was made in the old days. In it are pieces of dried apples, pears and "apercots" for the people. Enough for more than half a pound for each of us."

    As Josep expected, this did put another view of the inhabitants of the Creek in Marleena's mind; though he knew she would have to think long and hard.

    "Do you know where I might find Jorj? I must send him back with Bolo if I can."
    Marleena, with eager, shaking hands, tugged at the paracord with which the pack had been cross-tied. "I think, he took one more turn around the fields with Deerie yesterday; so today he would be cleaning out the ashes in the burner and doing what he does with oils and fats."

    Josep reached into the pemmican sack again. "I will go to the Shed, then. It seems the likeliest place. And then I will look for the hunters – are they all upstream?"

    "Yes." Marleena reached into the top of the packsack and filled her hands with dried apples.

:::

Jorj, a late middle-age, balding man with a round nose, was not happy. When he was not happy he sometimes picked at his nose; and already the tip of it was blackened with soot. "Bolo, I like you; and I admire the young chief; but there is such a thing as madness."

    "Yes, Jorj. But Josep says the fields there would feed them and us in good years."

    "That's just it; does this look like a good year to you? Besides, Deerie would never survive the trip. As it is I pray every time I light the tinder in the burn box."

    They stood beside a crawler tractor that was no taller than they were themselves. The tiny 'cat' had seen better days. Once it had been painted green, with yellow accents. Now it was more brown than green, with a six-foot blade, a steel cage, a black seat within the cage, with most of the stuffing long gone. The blade had long ago lost its hydraulics and had been raised and lowered for some time with a prized come-along.

Above the drawbar a shelf, really a platform, had been added, on which stood a contraption consisting of two tallish cylinders, with an exhaust pipe protruding from the one on the left. Pipes had been led past the driver's seat on either side to the engine. The parts for this adaptation had all been handmade, and though Jorj understood mechanics, he was painfully aware of the unlikelihood of ever replacing them.

    Josep joined the men in the shade of the Shed. "The Lord greet you, Jorj."

    "And the good Lord greet you, Young Josep. But are you not here to grieve my heart?"
    "Ah, would it were not so. With your years should come a time of rest. And here I am asking of you the hardest thing yet."

    Jorj noticed his sooty hands and wiped them on a cloth hanging from one of the fir poles of the open shed. "How far away is this Starvation Creek, then? And I must admit I don't much care for the name."

    "You have only two ridgelines to cross. But some of it is trail-breaking."

    "Sounds like you're not coming along, then."

    "I'm going to call a meeting. It may be the time of Migration."

    At that dread word, silence fell over them. They turned as one to look, in the dimming light, at Jorj's beloved fields.

:::

    Ro-eena came into the PX and almost bumped into Juanita Molinero, who was carrying a very large and heavy stock-pot with Guchi.

    "Oh, hi, Ro-eena," said Juanita. "You are may be just in time to take this side of this thing from me and help Guchi get it to the tables, yes?"

    "Well, I'm still on upstairs and Doc Mary asked me to go get her a beer."

    "I am not may be as happy as I could wish with this use of the refrigeration units, but Doctor Mary does outrank me; go around us and we will 'carry on.'" Juanita smiled.

    Ro-eena continued on her mission, and Juanita and Guchi, almost staggering, brought the pot to the dining area. Karen sat at the nearest table with her first Creek friend, Mrs. Ames, and elderess Ava Lazar. Karen jumped up to make way for the pot.

    "What's in it, dears?" asked Mrs. Lazar.

    "It is mostly a broth from beef jerky and suet, I am afraid," replied Juanita, looking at Mrs. Ames sympathetically. "With some grabbled potatoes and garden leaves thrown in."

    "Maybe a little oats, too. Not much," added Guchi. They both smiled apologetically.

    "It will be what we will give thanks for, my dears." Mrs. Lazar patted Juanita's hand. "Thank you both, and we will share it with the other tables." Juanita and Guchi nodded appreciatively, and left for the kitchen.

    "Mn-nh-rnh!" said Mrs. Ames, wagging her head at a crooked angle.

    "Yes, that's right," nodded Mrs. Lazar. "You feel for the cows and the oxen; but, you know, we had really run out of ways to feed them, and we must put away everything we can, to see another year."

    Karen set out bowls, then, finding a ladle hung from the lip of the stock pot, dipped for each of them and also for others who came to them with their bowls.

    The entire Creek, carrying what they could, had migrated to the depths of Ridge. For several days, parties of three or five had made their way up the winding ox-cart road, bringing weapons, clothing, tools, medications, grains, crocks of fermented vegetables and sacks of dried fruits. A significant portion of the food had once been their prized cattle and sheep. Most of these had now been slaughtered; the rest, along with all the chickens, had been left with gates open in all directions, to seek such sustenance and to escape such fire as they might encounter. 

    The horses had been deemed of civil and military necessity and would be brought in at the last moment. Their hay was already in storage at Ridge. Currently they were all away with "runners," taking water and sustenance to those on the firelines, or seeking for the missing smoke teams. As there could not be enough hay for all the animals that might need it, there would be much beef and mutton on the menu for some time to come.

    Karen sat down to Mrs. Ames' bowl, pulling it to her and then taking up the spoon. She dipped it in the soup, which steamed enticingly, and blew on it a couple of times, then sampled a few drops to gauge temperature before offering it to Mrs. Ames.

    Mrs. Lazar shook her head. "Ah, when I was a girl, how different was my world. Do you know, I have not seen electric lighting, and food cooked so – it would be over twenty years, I am sure. And ventilation – do you hear the fans?" She reached up with a paper napkin to dab at Mrs. Ames' chin.

    "Yes, replied Karen. "To me they are entirely new, or anyway since before coming to Ridge. I'm not sure I have seen paper used in this way, either." She offered Mrs. Ames another spoonful.

    "Oh, yes, you were the Underground Girl. Well," sighed Mrs. Lazar, "I was my family's treasure – the best schools, and Temple school as well. I had fine clothes, and we all went to Temple for Shabbos, and we observed festivals and did everything as it was commanded. A strict but not entirely unhappy upbringing. I meant to go to Israel, to work on a kibbutz. But then everything changed. No Israel, for starters."

    "I know a little about the wars. But tell me about 'kibbutz'."

    "To tell, now, maybe it's not so much. It is a commune, may be an agricultural commune. Much like our Creek. But the children were raised all together and the parents, they maybe worked in the orange groves." She gave Mrs. Lazar a pat with the napkin at the sagging corner of her mouth.

    "But you didn't get to go."

    "No, everything just blew up, as you might say. And then we were on the run."

    "Your family?"

    "My family? All my people, everyone from the Temple, we were hunted. The Klux army looked for us in holes in the earth, and came to kill us as if we were rats that had been at the grain."

    "Why?"

    "'Why'? We were Jewish, that has always been for some enough 'why'."
 
    "You had – you had a husband?"

    "Ah, listen to the girl. She too is a widow – it is in her voice. Yes, I had a good man, and children, and I lost everyone, except a granddaughter. I raised Aleesha here."

    "Oh." Karen set down the spoon.

    "'Oh', she says, and her eyes fill with tears for me, and for my family, a little. You are a toughie but you have a heart, and I thank God for you." Mrs. Lazar smiled sadly, and picked up the spoon for Mrs. Ames.

    "Mnahh!" said Mrs. Ames emphatically.

    "Are we done?" asked Karen.

Mrs. Ames shook her head. "No, I think she wants you to know she lost her family in much the same way. Her man was dark like young Mr. Perkins. He and her children were hunted too – by that monster, Magee."

    "Why did he do these things?"

    "Doctor Tom seems to know something about him, from the Murchisons. He tells me Magee joined the Klux to survive, and rose through the ranks. He hunted us because it is what the Klux did. Himself, he cared little either way. A life, to him, it is something to put out, like a candle. What they used to call a professional soldier."

    "Weren't the Murchisons professional?"

    "Oh, my dear!"

    "It's a reasonable question," said a man's voice. Karen recognized it as that of Avery Murchison, who must have rolled quietly up behind her. She felt her face go hot.

    Avery rolled round behind Mrs. Ames, and looked over at Karen. "It's all in whatever cause you sign onto. Or, if that cause falters, you may sign onto no more than your own survival, or perhaps even sign onto a cause you think you can believe in. My parents believed in the United States of America. Then, left to their own devices, they dreamed up this community and gave their loyalty to that. Mr. Magee never fully believed in the Klux – he believes in himself. But while they lasted, he was their most feared captain, and whomever they sought to destroy, he destroyed. It was what used to be called a 'job.' It paid in food."

    Karen remembered again the young man with blue eyes that had died on top of her. "We were looking for food." So had she been. Was that what the Creek was to her – a job?

    "I know," said Avery, watching her. "Maybe these things don't bear too much looking into."

    "These troubles may be good for us in the long run," offered Mrs. Lazar.

    "How so?" Avery reached for a bowl.

    "'Every thing that may abide the fire, ye shall make it go through the fire, and it shall be clean.'"

    "'Leviticus' again?"

    "Numbers." Mrs. Lazar turned to Karen. "Youth cannot carry all of wisdom, though I think more highly of this young man than he believes."

    Bobbo came to the table, carrying his new twenty-two single-shot rifle and the sword that had been Karen's. "Sirs."

    "Report?" asked Avery.

    "Two smoke parties are in; third one not heard from yet."

    Karen asked, "Which party is still out?"

    "Wilsons. They were the farthest away, and the fire on the ridges has already passed their last known position. We're still hoping; there is some open ground."

    Karen could think of nothing more to say than "thank you;" but her heart ached for her friends.

    Avery thanked Bobbo as well, and sent him for some dinner. He reached for his chair wheels.

    Karen touched his armrest. "Mr. Avery?" 

    "Yes, Karen."

    "'Sirs'?"

    "Consider yourself promoted. There's a meeting in about an hour; we'll put a bell on the pee-ay – two rings. Be there; meeting room off the Control Room."

    "Yes, sir."

  :::

   
Jorj loaded the last of the wood blocks and fastened on the lid of the burner with a hoop and clamp. "This has to 'brew up' awhile, to get enough gases to burn right. In about ten more minutes we'll be off."

    Josep looked dubiously at the trailer, filled with chunked firewood, shackled to the drawbar. "How far will this get you?"

    "Over the first hill, maybe. Good dry wood is not an issue under these conditions, though. Bolo can bust up some old lumber for me in the next valley. The real danger is, I'll start my own forest fire and then we'd lose Deerie for good. Not to mention me and Mr. Bolo."

    "Then we must be very careful, Mr. Jorj," replied Bolo solemnly.

    "It will be an epic journey," smiled Josep. " I wish I could be with you two. The Lord watch between me and thee..."

    "...when we are absent from one another." Jorj clasped hands with Josep, and then Bolo did the same.

:::

The child had been doing calisthenics and now seemed to be resting, with a knee or foot thrust against Karen's navel. She looked out the long, low windows of the Control Room, as she passed through to the meeting room. Not much of a world I'm bringing you into, kid. Sorry about that. The foot pressed a little harder.

   Tomma and Armon arrived, not looking especially comfortable with each other. Behind them came Emilio. All were disheveled, sweaty, and dirty, and with their close-cropped heads, had the appearance of lightly toasted demons – they looked like bandits, in fact. As she had done before many times, whenever she noticed this, Karen reached up and rubbed her own crew cut. When would she get used to it?

   Marcee, who was nearing term, drifted heavily in and sank into a chair. She had found a large sheet of stiff paper somewhere; it looked as though it had been a page from a ledger of some kind. By folding and re-folding, she had made it into a fan, which she spread and began fanning herself.

    Avery rolled in, in his red chair, looked over the room, and rolled up to the empty space at the table next to Marcee. "When are you due?" 

    "Towards the end of the next moon, sir."

    He looked past her to Karen. "And, since we're on the subject, you?"

    "Probably before the moon after harvest, sir."

    "Harvest. Hmmhm." He furrowed his brow.

    Emilio looked round the table. "I am unused to seeing such a table without Doctor Tom, or Elsa, Ellen and the other Elders present."

    "Age has crept up on some of us more quickly than in former times," replied Avery. "Dr. Tom, only in the last moon, has begun talking in circles. Mrs. Ames may not last the summer. My mom's active but tires easily; she keeps asking those round her to get her back to her old post on Ball Butte but I'm not sure they even have a way, now, to do that. And so on. How did Mrs. Lazar seem to you?" he turned again to Karen.

    "She's very helpful to Mrs. Ames and still useful to Dr. Marcee – yes? –" Marcee nodded, and handed the fan to Karen. "– but seems terribly uninterested in the future, if you know what I mean."

    Avery nodded. "Same with old Maggie, though she hasn't noticed it herself. And Dr. Savage is dealing with the advanced stages of – "

    "Rheumatoid arthritis. And probably lupus," offered Marcee.

    " – right. So, you see, the Council has moved on, at least for the moment."

    Emilio pursed his lips, then leaned forward with his next query. "Ro-eena? Cal?"

    "Well, there it is. Record-keeping was big with Mom and Dad, but we're down to a hundred and twenty, with more to do than we can do. To stay alive, we're going on short rations with all that civilization stuff."

    "Ah."

    Avery twisted his wheels a bit so as to directly face Armon of Bledsoe's. "So here you are, Mr. Armon, you're in – not at, but in – a Council meeting, more or less duly constituted. Feel the power?"

    All eyes fell upon Armon, who fidgeted a bit in his chair, then placed his massive arms upon the tables, fingers laced together. "I – uh, I get it, so maybe you could get on with the meetin'?"

    "Depends. Anything more you can tell us about that wire across the stairs at Hall?"

    Karen, still fanning herself gratefully, saw Armon tense up, and from the corner of her eye she also noticed Avery's right hand was not resting on his wheelchair's armrest or wheel but on the pommel of his throwing knife. I would be fanning myself at such a moment, she thought. But probably there were enough good hands in the room that the situation, if it were one, was covered. She kept fanning.

    Armon looked down at the table. "I'll tell you all I know, and it isn't much. Some of us were doing a lot of grousing about Ridge – "

    Avery watched him. "Bledsoes and Maggies?"

    "And a few – a very few Russells and Wendlers. And as we weren't talking much to anybody else, with so much work in hand, we went round and round and made out Ridge and Hall and Ames was, like settin' 'emselves up for th' big britches, like."

    "Sure. So someone wanted to, shall we say, 'restore democracy.'"

    "I can tell you two things. One, wasn't me. If I'd wanted to do that, it woulda been way too soon, nothin' was organized enough by then."

    Avery smiled. "I like the sound of that; it's an honesty I can appreciate."

    Emilio and Tomma nodded assent.

    "Two, don't know who did. Still don't. If I did, I'd take it outa their hide."

    "I really think you might. So what was that at the bottom of the stairs?" Avery jerked his chin toward Karen, who by this time had returned the fan to Marcee.

    "I, uh, I tried to take advantage of the moment. Break up the power structure, y'could say."

    "Was that well thought out, do you think?"

    Armon tilted his head sideways, and his face took on a surprisingly childlike expression.

    "Nope."

    Avery's smile broadened. "Mr. Armon, I think you're coming along nicely. With the assent of the others present, I'll speak for us all and say that we won't ask you to bring anyone to Council if you find they had a hand in it – for now. Please do, in such an event, explain Creek policy once: which is all for all. And then tell them if you see further activity proposed or undertaken along these lines, that you will bring them to the Council of which you are a full member. That work for you?"

    Armon looked as if a great weight had been lifted from his broad shoulders. "Uhh, yeah. Does."

    "Great. All in favor here?"

    Karen added her voice to the others, reluctantly.

   Avery noticed. "Seeing as we need everyone if we can possibly manage it. Now, before we proceed with the agenda, anything to say to our one-armed hellion here?" Avery gestured with his chin again.

    Armon, clear-eyed, for once, turned to Karen. "I apologize. For my attitude below and lyin' about it above."

    Karen looked up at him. "Accepted." Right up to the moment you backslide. And not a second after.

    Avery reached into the slim saddlebag of his chair, fished out a spiral-bound blue notepad with yellow daisies on the cover, and slapped it on the table.

    "Agenda."

    Karen looked over at Tomma, who had slumped in his seat. "Distracted?"

    "Yes."

    "Wilson's got a great crew; they'll think of something." She turned. "Mr. Avery, shall we get Tomma's report first, so he can go connect with any rescue attempt that might be going forward?"

    "A very kind thought, Mrs. Allyn. Tomma, your progress?"