The Wild Lands Read online

  I hear footsteps and turn. Maxine appears, then Jess, each with a pack. Then Tam carrying two packs.

  I shoulder the pack Tam offers. Then I kick the dead guy in the head because I have to do something to show respect for Willa and Randie. “Everyone kick him, then we’re off.”

  I know it’s kind of stupid and sort of warped, but I want everyone to have some closure, unlike what Jess and I had with Dad’s death and Mom’s disappearance.

  They all kick him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and then we’re snaking our way down the depression behind the basement, past the empty cache, and up the ridge.

  From the top of the ridge, the same place Jess and I sat just two days ago, we watch the five guys swarm the basement entrance like a bunch of agitated yellow jackets.

  Jess curls into Maxine.

  Tam sits with her knees pulled to her chest. “If only I’d seen him sooner.” Tears run down her cheeks. “That bastard.” She keeps rocking back and forth.

  “It’s my fault,” I say. “I should’ve had someone watching our backs.”

  “Travis,” Maxine says, “quit acting like you’re in charge. Any of us could’ve decided we needed a back watch.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But I convinced everyone to move to the edge of the hill. And now…” I dig my feet into the ash. I’d convinced Dad to team up with Clint, too. That made three dead, and one missing but probably dead, based on my plans. I suck.

  I turn to Tam. “If it weren’t for you, we’d all be dead.”

  “Willa,” Tam says, talking to the sky. “And Randie. I’m sorry.” Then she bows her head.

  “I know I screwed up.” I kick some more ash. Lives. I cost us lives. I gave orders that killed two people that I’d just met.

  Huge clouds are piling up to the south. A crack of thunder invades my ears.

  No one says anything, so I keep on talking. “Those guys might come this way, and we need to decide what we’re going to do. Stay and fight, or just start heading south.”

  Maxine says, “We survived by fighting when there were no other options. I’m not proud of how many people we’ve killed, but—”

  “I’ve got two arrows left,” Tam says. “What’s in the gun?”

  “Three slugs,” I say. “And one bullet in the pistol.”

  Maxine pulls Jess closer. “We have to think.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Here’s what I think. As much as I’d like to waste those guys down there, I don’t think they’re worth the ammo unless they’re threatening us. I mean, I’d love some revenge, but not at the expense of being helpless later.”

  “Ditto that.” Tam nods and sniffles. “I’d love to kill them all, but it’d leave us with next to nothing for protection.” Then she starts rocking back and forth again.

  “Maxine? Jess?”

  Jess leans into Maxine. “I’ll do what Maxine wants to do.”

  “Girl,” Maxine says, “we’re gonna make some serious tracks through this ash.”

  But that’s the problem. If they want to follow us, it’ll be easy.

  The ridge we’re walking on angles southwest on a steady incline with a few dips. Before the fires those dips would’ve been boggy and thick with black spruce, but now they’re just boggy. On a few protected slopes the remains of birch trees still stand, charred and lifeless.

  Most of the white spruce died from beetle infestations and the poplars from the leaf miners years ago. Yeah, this place was changing even before the fires.

  Warmer winters meant greater insect survival. And some summers the yellow jackets were thicker than the mosquitoes. We’d put out five-gallon buckets half-filled with soapy water and some salmon on a piece of floating wood. In a day or two there’d be a few thousand drowned yellow jackets in each bucket. And it’d be like that all summer. Now you still see some, often on dead bodies, but they haven’t recovered from the fires either. Nothing has.

  The first drops of rain splatter in the ash.

  Tam and I stop on a little knob, the high point of the ridge, and wait for Maxine and Jess. I’m pretty sure we’re standing on top of Ester Dome. The oldest marathon in Alaska was in Fairbanks, and the high point of the race was Ester Dome. Dad used to run it, and when I was little, my mom and I would meet him at different points along the course. I was going to run it with him someday, but that was back when people were still running for fun. Once the government pulled out, you ran when it was practical—to accomplish a goal.

  “When Jess and Maxine catch up, we should head toward the Tanana River,” I tell Tam. Off in the distance a yellow-brown swath of water carves its way through the burnt-out land. A few ribbons of green highlight the places where fireweed has sprouted. “The Tanana makes a big bend and flows into the Yukon, which means we’ll have to cross it to go south.”

  Tam stares at me but says nothing, and for a split second her blue eyes remind me of Stacy’s. Except Stacy’s eyes were soft and inviting, not icy and hostile.

  Maxine pulls Jess the final few feet to the top of the knob. “My people used to hunt that country.” Maxine points west, where there are hundreds of depressions that used to be ponds before the permafrost melted and they drained into the ground. “Ducks, geese, beaver. Black bear. Moose,” Maxine says. “A magical place I’ve only heard stories about.”

  When the permafrost started melting, some places drained, and other places that were dry turned into swamps. Bridges buckled. Buildings sagged. Trees leaned and slowly uprooted themselves and then either totally collapsed or grew at acute angles. Anything putting weight on what used to be frozen ground just tilted or sank.

  “I’m hungry,” Jess says. She gets that pouty look on her face and I wish Mom were here to deal with her so I could focus solely on keeping us moving, like Dad used to do.

  We’ve walked maybe three or four miles. I don’t know how many days it’ll take to reach the coast around where Anchorage used to be. Twenty-eight jars of salmon, I remember Randie saying. I realize that I don’t even know what else is in the pack I’m carrying. Had it been Willa’s or Randie’s?

  We have about 360 miles to cover in straight-line distance, but I know our route won’t be straight.

  “How about the four of us split a jar of salmon, then keep going until we hit the river? Jess, see if there’s a jar in your pack.” I figure the lighter her pack, the better. Trying to keep up with people seven or eight years older than her can’t be easy.

  After we eat the salmon, we head down the back side of Ester Dome. We hit a stretch of willows that burned but are still standing and crash our way through the blackened brush, leaving a trail of snapped-off branches. The rain keeps starting and stopping like it can’t decide what to do. The ridge is bumpy, and in the saddles ash has collected, blown by the wind or pushed down by water runoff. It’s over a foot thick in some places, but up on the bumps it’s just an inch or less. A few birch stumps poke up through the ash—little dead islands in an even deader sea.

  In the flats of the river valley we pass some human bones. Charred skeletons really, partially covered by ash. A lot of people died in the fires that second summer. The ones in the flats right here had probably been on their way to the river. Just a few more miles and they would’ve made it.

  The sun breaks through the clouds. It’s low in the northwest sky, projecting our shadows for twenty or thirty feet.

  I stop and so does Tam. Jess and Maxine have fallen back a little since we passed the bodies, and I want to keep us together.

  My shoulders are tight, so I roll them around and they make cracking noises.

  Tam points. “I—”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Jess can only walk so fast. We’ll have to take a real break soon or she’ll be so beat she—”

  “No,” Tam says, glaring at me. “Up on Ester Dome.” She points. “Look.”

  I shield my eyes from the sun and squint. Sure enough there’s a little bump of people up there. It’s hard to disappear in the flats, especially with a trail of a
sh and no trees to get lost in. Our best option is to stay in front of them, but I don’t know how long Jess will last. Maybe we’ll have to ditch her pack or take turns carrying it.

  “Maxine, Jess,” I call. “Come on.” They’re walking side by side, holding hands.

  They catch up and I say, “We’re being followed.” I look at Jess. “Let me have your pack for a while. We need to pick up the pace.”

  “I can keep up with the pack on,” Jess says. “Just like Max. I promise.”

  I look at Maxine and say, “Max?”

  She smiles. “I was telling Jess, that’s what my grandma used to call me when I was little. It’s nice to hear it again.”

  I smile. “Okay, Max it is. And Jess, we’ll give it a try.” I’m so proud of her. And happy that Max and Tam are with us. And torn up about Willa and Randie. And grief-stricken about Mom and Dad. And anxious about the people following us.

  No one else is going to die on my watch. No one.

  We’re walking faster now. No one is talking, and Jess is keeping up. I can see the river up ahead, shimmering in the low-angle sun. When we hit it, we’ll just have to follow it until we find a good place to cross.

  Tam’s a few steps in front of me. She stops and I run right into her.

  “Sorry,” I say, taking a step back.

  She flinches but then looks me in the eye and says, “It’s okay.”

  “What’s up?” Max says.

  Tam points down. “Fresh tracks.”

  “Damn,” I say. I look in the direction they’re heading but see nothing. There’re a few hills in the flats to hide behind but they aren’t very big.

  “I don’t know how old they are,” Tam says. “But they don’t look much different from our tracks.”

  “Let’s walk in them for a few minutes, then cut toward the river. And when we do, we’ll brush out our tracks for a hundred yards or so, and maybe our friends behind us will keep following the other tracks.”

  We walk for a couple hundred yards, then I stop and point to a little hill a couple hundred feet away, rising in the direction of the river. “We can go around the hill, then creep up to the top and watch.”

  “But if they see our trail,” Tam says, “they’ll be right on top of us.”

  “It’s the perfect place to lose them. And if they do come at us, we’ve got the advantage of being on top of the hill.”

  “You mean just shoot them?” Max asks. She puts her arm around Jess.

  My gut twinges. “What other choice would I have?” I look back at the way we’ve come. “We need to make a decision.”

  Tam grabs my arm. The warmth from her fingers pressing into my skin. I turn and her eyes bore into mine. “We don’t shoot unless someone draws on us first,” she says. Then she lets go, but I can still feel the warmth of her touch.

  “Okay,” I say. We just need to move. “Tam, you first, then Max, then Jess. Step directly into the footprints Tam makes. Go to the left of the hill, then circle behind it and go partway up. I’ll go last and brush out our tracks.”

  I take my pack off and pull out a camo shirt. It must’ve been Willa’s or Randie’s spare. Then I strap the shotgun to the pack and put it back on. I step into the first set of tracks, take a couple of steps forward, then turn around.

  I hold the T-shirt in both hands, bend over, and wipe away our tracks. I just keep shuffling backward, erasing our tracks. The backs of my legs tighten up. A band of pain settles across my lower back, but I just keep going, turning every so often to make sure I don’t step off the trail I’m erasing.

  On the backside of the hill I meet up with Jess, Tam, and Max. “Now we creep up to just below the top,” I say, “peek our heads over, cover up with a little ash, and we wait.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  WITHOUT A WATCH IT’S HARD to know how long we’ve been waiting, but we must’ve been quite a ways ahead of those guys because it feels like a long time.

  Jess and Tam are sitting slightly below us on the back side of the hill where we’ve stashed our packs. No way could we get caught facing only one direction again. Me and Max are up top, lying on our stomachs, our heads just inches apart, covered in ash compliments of Tam and Jess.

  I’m grateful that Jess has taken to Max. She’s even interacting with her in ways similar to how she interacted with Mom. It’s like Jess’s brain has looked to fill a gap in her life. It’s the same for me, I realize, with Tam and how she keeps reminding me of Stacy, except for the fact that every time she looks at me it feels like she’s considering putting an arrow in my heart. Me and Stacy were only fourteen the last time we saw each other. A boy and a girl. But Tam is a woman.

  “I think I see something,” Max whispers. “But from up the trail, not the way we came.”

  I squint. Off to the left I see something flicker. Then I see two boys. They’ve got about a quarter mile to go before crossing in front of our hill. The front runner is about as big as me and is carrying a long pole. The boy behind him has some type of animal carcass, which totally surprises me. Where the hell has he gotten that? And what had it been living on?

  “We have to warn them,” Max whispers.

  “We can’t. It’ll blow our cover.”

  “But those men are chasing us, not them. They’re walking into a trap that we’ve set.”

  “It’s too late now,” I say. “They’ve seen each other.”

  From the other direction, five men, two carrying guns, stand unmoving. One of them calls out, “Spare some food for some hungry men.”

  The two boys look at each other, then approach the men. The tall one with the pole says, “We can cut you off a flank, but we’ve got people to feed.”

  “People,” the same man says. “I don’t see any people.” He laughs, and then the other men laugh.

  “My dad will be coming along if we’re not back soon,” the tall boy says.

  The man laughs again. “Shit. You think your daddy is gonna stop this?” He holds up his gun. “I got people to feed, too. What makes your people more deserving than mine? One of my men was killed in cold blood. Arrows through the neck and heart. Shot by some hard-core military types. Maybe you had something to do with it. That who you’re feeding?”

  The two boys back up a step. “No,” the tall one says. “It’s just our family. We don’t want any trouble. But we can’t go home without any food.”

  “Home?” the man says. “You’ve got a home?” He laughs. The two men on the outside move closer and form a semicircle around the boys.

  “This is our battle,” Max whispers. I know she’s right, but I don’t want to put Jess in danger. An image of my dad flashes into my mind. He’d never kill anyone unless his family was directly threatened.

  “You just leave that beaver or wolverine or whatever the hell it is,” the man says. “And go on home.”

  “But—”

  The man brings his shotgun up to shoulder level and the other men take a step back. “All we want is the meat, boy. You can give it to us nice and easy. Or we’ll take it, and a piece of your ass, too.”

  “This isn’t right,” Max whispers.

  I feel paralyzed. I want to waste these guys, but I only have three slugs and don’t know how many they have, and if they shoot me, what will happen to Jess? And if they’re only going to take the meat, why shoot them? But I know what they did to us. They didn’t try to take our food. They just opened fire.

  “Just lay it on the ground and walk away,” the man says, “and no one gets hurt.”

  The shorter boy sets the animal on the trail.

  “Maybe they won’t shoot,” I whisper. “But if they do, I’m firing back.” I have my shotgun in my hands, the barrel pointing toward the trail. I could fire in an instant if I need to, and they’re close.

  “It might be too late by then,” Max whispers.

  The boys back away and are moving off the trail at an angle toward our hill. Then they turn and run and I know they are hoping to use the hill for cover
.

  The man swings his gun toward the boys, like he’s taking aim. He’s broadside to me. A perfect target.

  I take aim and fire.

  His head explodes with blood and his buddies jump back. The two boys keep running, round the hill, and scream. They must’ve run into Jess and Tam, with her camo clothes and bow.

  The men are gathered around their friend. “Dead,” one of them says.

  “Gun must’ve backfired.”

  “Never heard of that happening with a shotgun.”

  Now another man picks up the gun. Once he checks the chamber and realizes that it didn’t backfire, they will all come after us.

  I tap Max and we crawl down the hill and grab our packs. I motion for everyone to follow silently. We keep the hill at our backs for cover and head for the river.

  CHAPTER

  18

  I KEEP HEADING TOWARD THE river, but my head is a jumble of mush. I just killed a man. I imagined killing people to protect my family and thought I’d do it if I had to, but now that I really have done it I feel different. Like I’ve crossed a line that I can’t cross back over.

  I wish my dad was around so I could talk with him about it. I remember getting frustrated with him when those guys with the rocks were harassing us, wishing he would just shoot one of them. But aiming a gun at another human being and pulling the trigger is serious business. You’re basically saying that your life is more important than theirs.

  We scramble down an eroded bluff to the edge of the river. We don’t see anyone following us so we stop. Max and Tam head back to the top of the bluff to keep watch. Jess begs me to let her go with Max and I let her. I haven’t said much to the two new people I’ve just saved—who I’ve killed for—until now.

  The tall guy with the spear, his name’s Mike. He’s about my size. His brown hair is cut short across his forehead but hangs partway down his neck in the back. And his younger brother, Dylan, has thick, wavy brown hair. He’s shorter but is stocky with muscular arms and legs. I guess he’s fifteen, maybe sixteen, and Mike is nineteen or twenty. These guys tell me we’re the first people they have seen in a long time. They aren’t sure how long, maybe five or six months. When I tell them we’re heading south toward Anchorage, they just nod.