Since the EMP, Sadie had recognized the importance of what was going on. She’d understood the seriousness of the situation. She’d been happy to pitch in.
But she’d never, until today, really enjoyed physical work. It had always been a chore.
Now, she dove happily into the project of digging the ditches. It was something that helped her. It distracted her from the worry, from the worry about her mother, who still wasn’t back from her hunting.
It also made her feel good. She relished the way her muscles felt, totally fatigued. She enjoyed the sweat dripping down from her brow.
It was as if she’d immersed herself back into the world, using her body as it was meant to be used. She was engaging with the physical world in a way that her pre-EMP world didn’t let her.
Not only was the ditch a good distraction, but it could easily prove crucial to their very survival. It was a task with meaning and importance.
But the digging wasn’t totally doing the trick. She was still worried.
“Don’t you think we should go look for Mom?” said Sadie, pausing for a moment to turn to her brother.
“Not yet,” said James.
“Aren’t you worried about her?”
“Of course I am. But worrying doesn’t do any good.”
“But we could do something.”
“Look at this way, Sadie,” said James. “If she’s in trouble, then she’s already in trouble.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“What I mean is that she’s either OK or she’s not. If we leave now we’d be too late anyway.”
“How could you say something like that?”
“I’m just trying to handle it my own way.”
“You’re a jerk.”
“Let’s not start this whole thing again.”
“What whole thing?”
“The sibling bickering thing. We’ve got stuff to do.”
Sadie sighed and went back to digging.
They’d made some progress with the ditches. They were all getting tired, but they were also getting better at digging. Sadie had noticed that certain ways of moving her body were more effective. She’d found her groove, so to speak, a way of moving that efficiently took dirt out from the ditches.
One problem they encountered was that the dirt had to go somewhere. They couldn’t very well just pile it up next to the ditches they were digging. It’d be too obvious to someone approaching the camp that something was amiss.
Of course, the problem was alleviated somewhat by the fact that they’d decided not to dig the ditches as deep as they’d originally intended. They’d all been envisioning something that a person could actually fall completely into, immobilizing them, or injuring them with sharp sticks.
But if they’d wanted to dig a series of ditches that deep, it’d take weeks to get the project done, no matter how efficient they’d become in their digging technique. So instead they’d settled on something much more shallow.
The plan was to put sharp sticks in the sides. That might work. But if it didn’t, a shallow ditch would be a good enough deterrent on its own. It’d be wide enough that it’d be hard not to step on it.
An enemy rolling an ankle would give those at the camp enough time to react. It’d give them the edge they needed.
At least that was the plan.
“All right, everybody,” called out Cynthia, tossing aside her digging stone. “It’s time for a break, right?”
“Not like there’s a lot to snack on,” said John.
“Whatever,” said Cynthia, flopping herself down on the ground. “I’m beat. Food or not, I need a rest. Kids, come on, don’t let this maniac work you to death.”
“Just trying to keep us all alive,” said John.
“Then don’t work us to death in the process.”
John laughed, and tossed his stone aside and went over to join Cynthia, motioning for Sadie and James to join them.
The four of them lay there on the ground spaced a few feet apart from each other. Sadie lay on her back and looked up at the sky.
The day felt much warmer than it had for a while. But it could just have been that her body temperature had risen from the work. Her empty stomach was growling at her. She was worried about her mother. But the day was nice.
Looking up at the sky, the trees formed a canopy. Their branches were bare, but soon there’d be leaves. Maybe times would get easier. Maybe living out here in nature would be nice. Once things calmed down, of course.
Sadie could imagine pleasant days during the summer. Maybe she’d really learn how to hunt. Her mother could teach her, and they could walk through the forest together, admiring the leaves and flowers.
But the nice thoughts started to fade almost as soon as they’d started. Her stomach was growling now, an intense rumbling of hunger.
“Isn’t there anything to eat?” said Sadie. “I’m starving.”
“We’re all hungry, Sadie,” said John. “But we’ve got to save what we have until we really need it.”
“This is when we need it. We can’t do all this physical work and not eat.”
“Like I said before, Sadie, we’ve…”
“Don’t talk down to me like that,” snapped Sadie, her mood suddenly turning for the worse. “I’m more than just some kid.”
“Calm down, Sadie,” said James.
“I’ve had enough of this,” said Sadie, suddenly getting up and starting to walk away from them all.
“Sorry, John,” James said. “Maybe it’s her blood sugar or something. She can get grumpy when it gets low.”
“It’s not my blood sugar,” snapped Sadie.
But maybe it was. She was only vaguely aware of how quickly her mood had shifted, but she did recognize that it had happened.
It wasn’t just the lack of food. It was everything. All the stress. She could dream away about how nice things might be. But it didn’t matter. The reality of their situation was harsh. Bleak and harsh.
Her mother hadn’t come back.
And who knew what had happened to Max and Mandy. They might never hear from them again. And it wasn’t like they’d read about it in the news later on, or get a postcard from them explaining what had happened.
No, it’d be nothing like that. It’d be nothing but silence, and they’d be left to speculate.
“You OK, Sadie?” called out Cynthia.
Sadie didn’t answer. She just kept walking. She picked up her pace, and the next time she turned her head, she could no longer see the camp, the ditches, her brother, or John and Cynthia.
She needed to be alone.
17
Minutes had passed.
The dead man was right next to her. So was the dead deer. Blood stained the ground.
Georgia felt cold. The day might have been warm, but her body felt cold. Cold from hunger, cold from fear.
She thought of her children, of Sadie and James, back at camp.
She lay on her stomach. She’d crawled behind a tree. Only a part of her was exposed. Only her hands and head were a possible target.
She didn’t dare get entirely behind the tree because it would give whoever was out there an opportunity to make a move without her knowing it.
It was a long-range standoff. The enemy was unknown, as was the outcome.
Her heart rate hadn’t gone down. Her fingers felt freezing. Her feet did, too. It was the adrenaline. But she’d gone past the timeframe when it had pumped her up, readied her for action.
Now she just felt its negative effects. She felt the cold and the fear. She felt the worry, the anxiety rushing through her like a tidal wave.