CHAPTER 18 HUNGRY!
"Can we, I mean, may we go fishing, Dad? I promise to listen for cars," I begged. Mom and Dad are still hoping that we will learn grammar, but I don't know why.
"We'll be quiet, and stay in the bushes. Please, can we?"
JohnB seconded. "I’ll take good care of the others." He wants to do something helpful since he quit his job at the store.
The fishing poles bought for Rooster have been a good investment. Dad lets us go to the river sometimes, and we feel safe because we can hear anything that comes our way.
"I know you guys are hungry and have been cooped up too long," Dad agreed. "Go give it a try, and while you are down there see if you can spot a turtle or get some cattail roots."
We don't have any food left in the mine. Our oatmeal has gotten bugs in it, so we fed it to the wild chickens. Later, we caught the chickens at night while they were sleeping in the bushes -- and we ate them. Our dried beans have gotten wormy, but we don't mind. It was very hard having to eat the goats. We were hungry enough to be more grateful than sentimental.
The wild berries were shriveled up the same as the apples. Only Mom's little tree, planted near water, gave us a tasty crop. Wild greens are tough and bitter late in the summer, but we have to eat them even if they give us the "runs."
Mom has learned how to save seeds. We’ve gotten green beans, squash, and tomatoes for two years, but now the ground is too dry. She cuts the "eyes" out of old potatoes, in the spring, planting them and eating the rest. We watered them and got a pretty good crop. That forest fire last year actually gave us a bigger and better garden spot.
When we get up enough energy, we hunt ginger and spicebush for tea. Sometimes we daydream about sugar, not to mention soda pop, ice cream, and hamburgers. But this life has almost tamed our appetites.
Sol keeps hoping to trap a rabbit; he’s been so faithful about setting his boxes and checking them. We all crave something solid.
JohnB hooked a biggie. "Help me, JG. Help me bring in this baby. It's going to swallow my line and pole. Oh, boy, look at that! There‘s our winter meat. Just look at the whiskers on that kitty!" We pulled in a monster of a catfish, with a lot of shouting and fun.
Of course, it wouldn't take a genius to guess that once we got down to the river, us boys, that is we boys, sometimes went from serious fishing to frisking around in the river like otters. The water holds you up even if you are weak. But I had a terrible scare.
I went down under a big root, planning to slide my body under it and come up on the other side; but, as I went under, I got stuck at my hips and couldn‘t get through. I could look up at the surface of the water only a foot or two above my head. It seemed an eternity. My lungs were screaming before I realized that I could go back out the way I came in. Head pounding, desperate for air, finally bobbing to the surface, I called out in tremendous relief with a huge gasp, "Here I am!"
I wanted someone to understand how terrified I was. I needed someone to care. I had come so close to death! When I crawled up on the bank, still panting, Sol put his hand on my back.
"Why did you stay under so long, JG? Did you get stuck? That was real scary."
I know that boys aren't supposed to be sissy, but I hugged my little brother with tears rolling down my cheeks. He had just the right look on his face to comfort me.
"Sometimes I cry too, JG, when I’m in bed. I want to wrestle with Rooster so much," he murmured. It was getting dark and time to go. We had about a dozen bream and the cat. They would taste good even without cooking oil or hushpuppies.
Then JohnB had the idea that we should check out the garbage pile before we made the climb. "No one will see us. They'll all be at home eating their supper and watching TV."
Those words made us feel even hungrier, and so we gambled our safety on the chance of a find. There were the usual dirty newspapers, old clothes, cereal boxes, and meat wrappers: but not as many as there used to be. It seemed to be a wasted search when JohnB suddenly whispered, "Look, boys!" He was holding a white plastic bag tied with a green tie tag. It was lying to the edge of the crud.
"Look inside. Hurry, JohnB. Is it something real? Is it from you-know-who?" pumped Sol.
"Let's take it home and look at it there." JohnB insisted, even though we tried to make him see how silly it would be. "It's my find and I say let's take it home first, like a surprise."
I growled under my breath "Yeah, surprise." It was a heavy bag, we took tums with it. Sol hopped along in front, carrying a bundle of old newspapers.
We could see the smoke from the chimney as we got up to the level part. It wasn't much of a home, but it looked good to me after my near disaster. Mom was stirring something in her big iron pot -- more greens.
JohnB burst out, "Dad, I found this bag down the hill. Yes, we did go to the dump, but it was nearly dark, and we thought we were safe enough. Look, Dad, it looks like Mrs. Thompson's bags used to look. I was wondering if she had found out a way to help us after all. Do you want to open it? I feel sort of scared of being fooled.”
Dad frowned at us. Were we getting careless? He decided it wasn't a time to scold, but to do a better job of warning us next time.
He felt of the bag. "Probably it's not too smart to hope," he agreed. He loosened the tie and poured out the contents on the homemade table so that the firelight would let us all see at the same time.
That whole bag was full of candy bars! Mom could hardly believe the answer to her own prayers. Did God feed His people on candy bars? She had always been so careful to give us only healthy stuff. What a wonderful joke!
"It's a great idea, to pack so many delicious calories into so small a bundle, that dear lady was really thinking right. Look how so many of them have nuts -- - to fill us up. I love nuts," she admitted.
Dad made us clean the fish first and grill them over the coals. He said a special blessing.
When we finished, each one picked out his dessert. Dad warned us to nibble slowly; our stomachs couldn't handle anything very rich. Spike was given tiny bites which soon produced a chocolate grin for us. It was a real party. I had the feeling that we would never worry again about survival.
Mom thumbed through the soggy papers, reading with interest, although she knew that The Plan authorities controlled all the news and told only whatever suited them.
"Listen to this -- - how could this be? Here's the list of the Eliminated Dissidents and Mrs. Don Thompson is the only one. But this paper is old! How did they find out about her? Oh, I hope she didn‘t suffer. How could the bag be from her?"
"Maybe it was angels," chirped Sol. "That's how God did it for other people."
"Could the bag have been out there all this time? We haven't been looking, but it's so fresh and clean," wondered JohnB aloud. "It‘s tied just like she used to fix them up."
"Maybe it was Mr. Thompson, in memory of her," I said. "He could get whacked, too, if they catch him. Would he have risked his own neck to help us?"
"I’m sticking to angels," muttered Sol, licking the chocolate off his lingers.
And maybe he is right, because that bag has never been totally empty.
I stand at the edge of night.
Darkness crawls in from afar.
"Fear not!" calls the voice of truth.
"With night comes also the star."
Made up by Sol