Ian was growing worse. He was almost yellow and he had lost a considerable amount of weight. We all had, but there was something different about it. He had a strange cough, too. It wasn’t there all the time, but when a spasm came upon him it took him several minutes to recover.
After three or four days had passed he came out of the back of the cave with something. I had no idea what it was, it looked like a large woven box. He explained it was a trap for fish. He said you could put it in water and when you pulled on it, it closed up, almost like a net. I smiled at him. He had also decided that he was going to go out tonight. He was going to catch fish and try to cook some rabbit meat over a fire deep in the forest. He was going to try and hide it, and hope it couldn’t been seen from above.
I didn’t want him to go. I actually started crying as soon as he ducked out of the cave. It was so dangerous right now, and I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to him. I couldn’t sleep at all that night. We had left the cover back a little bit to let some moonlight in. I tidied up a bit, and tried to find some things to do but I ran out of energy. Not feeling a bit tired, I waited by the door of the cave.
Somewhere in the early morning hours I heard something. It was a faint rustling that seemed to be getting closer. The clouds had covered the moon, blocking its bright light. I thought about waking Grandpa, but I didn’t want to alarm him. It was probably just an animal. After a few more minutes, I heard it again. I thought for a moment that it could be Ian, but he had made it very clear that under no circumstances would he return tonight. I stayed perfectly still, hoping some wild beast hadn’t caught our trail and would soon be intruding on our hideout.
Just then, the clouds moved and light spilled down on the cold night. I saw shaggy fur. I focused for a moment and realized that it was hair. My heart beat so fast and hard I thought for sure it was audible. A head turned and I could see it was a man. He was tall and large, with a big coat that seemed to be camouflage. Tears started filling my eyes and I silently prayed that he would continue. He seemed to be looking directly at our cave.
He stood still for a moment before continuing on. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I sat there, my back against the hard stone wall until the morning light broke on the horizon, and I fell into an exhausted and troubled sleep.
I awoke that morning to Ian returning. He had been successful, catching a few fish and cooking some rabbit for us. He looked terrible. I hoped it was only because he hadn’t rested the night before. I ordered him to bed and fed the boys some food.
As the afternoon turned into the evening, Ian didn’t get up. I figured he just needed some extra rest so I didn’t worry about it.
The next morning he didn’t get up, either. I went to his side and tried to wake him. He was feverish and barely could awaken to speak with me. I told myself he would be fine. That he just had a touch of the flu, but I knew in my heart it wasn’t true. I couldn’t believe this was happening . I took some deep breaths and tried to tell myself to calm down. I needed to get it together.
The next morning his skin was sallow and slick with sweat. His breathing was weak and his heart rate was erratic and rapid. Grandpa announced he was going to look for antibiotics. He quietly told me Ian probably wouldn’t make it, but if any of us wanted to survive he needed to go now. He packed a bag and left.
I retreated to the interior of the cave. I sat near Ian’s side, wondering how we could possibly survive. I decided we were going to make some changes. It would be better if we kept a small fire and cooked some food than starve to death trying to stay unseen.
I was glad I had been watching the rabbit slaughtering. For the next week we alternated eating rabbits, and making stew from their bones. We kept a small fire in the cave, only at night, and for as little time as possible. We had started sleeping during the day, and going out at night for foraging.
On the five month mark, Ian passed away. It was February, just days after our anniversary. His death snapped me out of a slump. I realized I had barely been eating the last few days, only thinking about what was happening with Ian. I knew the responsibility was on me now. I needed to keep spirits high. The only thing that kept us girls motivated was the little boys. We wanted to quit, to give up, but we knew we needed to keep going.
It was apparent that I needed to figure out a way to provide some protein for us. I decided our best bet would be Ian’s fish trap, so I commissioned my mom to weave a net so we could catch a large number of fish and keep them in a net in the river until we were ready to eat them.
The flybys literally ceased within the next few days. We still worked only at night, but we kept watch on how things were going during the day and didn’t see any more signs of planes.
Our fish trap seemed to be working fairly effectively, and Lisa came back one day announcing that the beans had small pods on them. I couldn’t wait to eat some fresh vegetables.
I hadn’t told my mom or Lisa about the man I had seen that night, I didn’t want to frighten them, but I thought about him all the time. Was he just passing through, or was he hiding out near us? I tried to pay attention when I was out, but I couldn’t see any signs of someone else.
After another week the fish were gone and there were no more to be found. The rabbits were all gone and while there were more babies right now, it would be some weeks before we could begin slaughtering them. We could starve, kill one of the chickens, or find another source of protein. I decided that I should travel upstream and see if I could find somewhere else to fish.
I packed enough food and water for a day, and started out the next morning before the sun was up. I followed the river across the freeway and far inland. A couple of times I thought it might be completely gone, but it would widen again. There didn’t seem to be any spots better than the one we had already.
Just after noontime I stumbled upon a huge pool of water, a little bit away from the stream I was following. I had seen the sun gleam off it and followed it for a few hundred yards until I found the source. I decided to take this opportunity to wash. I could check it out and see if there were any fish while washing three months of grime off my body.
I tucked my clothes under a bush, leaving my bra and panties on, and swam out a little ways. I had always had an unnatural fear of rivers and lakes, and it was kicking in now. I felt the moss tickle my feet and visions of barracudas swimming made me panic. I thrashed in the water, somehow growing more fearful of the imaginary predators lurking in the dark water.
My toes found a rock and I tried to push off it, but I slipped and went under. I hit my knee and began flailing. I tried to get my head above water but kept swallowing instead. I didn’t think about anything but getting to shore. The fact that a plane could have spotted me, or I could have alerted anyone within three miles of my presence didn’t enter my mind. I was drowning.
Just as I thought to myself that I was actually going to die I felt something. Something was grabbing my arm and I went berserk. I coughed and sputtered and kicked and flailed. It was dragging me underwater. Rocks started scratching my legs and I realized that I could stand up in the water. I continued flailing, punching and kicking with all my might.
Suddenly, I heard a voice, telling me to calm down. I froze. As soon as I could turn around I did, flailing and freeing myself from my captor’s grip. I was shivering and trying to adjust my eyes. A man stood before me, who looked vaguely familiar. White teeth gleamed out of a bushy, dirty blond beard. He was smiling. I tried to scan the area around me, but since I was still partway in the water there wasn’t really anything I could use as a weapon unless I grabbed a rock.