Page 36 of The Last Stars in the Sky
“What is all this stuff?” Mattie asked, as her gaze roved over the jumbled crates and bins we’d pillaged from Kerry’s uncle’s house, and I just shook my head. I couldn’t explain to her that I’d put her life in danger for the sake of somestuff.
No one spoke on the drive back; Kerry seemed almost cheerful, humming under her breath, Ruby retreating into herself as she so often did, Mattie silent and thoughtful, her lips pursed as she stared out at the wintry landscape streaming by in a blur of brown.
For about ten miles, I let myself simply not think. I needed a respite from the fear, and in any case, I felt frozen inside, numb with both horror and shock; but as the miles passed in silence, not a car in sight, I started to thaw, tothink.
As much as I kept trying to believe there was some kind of normal to get back to, after that encounter with the army, I was being forced to accept that there wasn’t, that there might never be. We weren’t going to be able to wait this out, and we couldn’t subsist on whatever we could steal or forage or find. Not for long, anyway.
There had to be another solution. I thought of Daniel, back on that first day, sounding so reasonable and yet so ridiculous.The cottage is actually the best place for us to be in this situation. We really can survive here, if we try.
I’d mocked him, I remembered, because I hadn’t wanted even to think about living that way.
But now I was coming to the conclusion that it was the only option, and it was one I wanted to make work, however I could. And so here I was, giving my daughter lessons in how to handle a gun when I could barely shoot myself.
Mattie turns to me, her dark hair flying out behind her in a ponytail, her expression fierce as she holds the rifle like she was born with it in her hand. “I don’t want to waste the bullets.”
Something has hardened in her too, these last three days. Gone is the girl raging about her phone, declaring she’s bored. I’m proud of her, but I also ache with sadness. She shouldn’t have to be this way. None of us should, and yet this is only the beginning.
“One more time,” I tell her. “If you hit it again, we’ll call it a day.”
Mattie nods and positions the rifle against her shoulder. Her hair blows out behind her as she narrows her gaze, draws a breath, lets it out steady and slow. She takes aim, fires, and hits the can dead center. My heart explodes with something deeper than pride, fiercer than joy.
“That’s my girl,” I tell her. My wilderness girl.
The smile Mattie gives me is flinty, determined. She puts the safety catch on the rifle and props it against her shoulder. “What now?” she asks, like I have a plan.
I take a breath and let it filter slowly through me. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these last three days, letting ideas form and coalesce. I’ve walked down the road as far as the gate, and hiked up through the woods, my boots crunching on the frozen ground, the forest stretching all around me in a grove of leafless trees, like stark and silent sentries. Our army. Our defense.
We can live here. We can make this work, just like Daniel said. We just have to figure out how.
“We need to do another inventory,” I tell her, and Mattie nods, unsurprised, ready. “All the stuff Kerry brought, and that we got from Corville. I want to open the root cellar too. There might be stuff in there.”
“Okay.”
“And then we need to figure out a rationing system. How long all this stuff will actually last.” I pause, and then continue with determination, “And then we need to figure out what we’re going to do when it runs out.”
Mattie stands with one hand on the butt of the rifle, one leg stuck out, her hair blowing in the wind. She looks like she belongs in some teen TV show. Kick-ass dystopian heroine, right here. It almost makes me smile.
“And whatarewe going to do when it runs out?” she asks, turning to me. The mirage of her fearlessness is revealed by the vulnerability I see in her eyes, despite the stubborn set of her chin. “What are we going to do for food?”
“I’m still figuring that out. We’ll have to grow some—”
“In winter?” She scoffs, just as I once did.
“Maybe we can last till spring with what we have.”
“And if we can’t?”
“I don’t know, Mats. I’m still thinking about it.” I take another deep breath, let it out slowly. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Do the inventory, figure out a rationing schedule. Then we’ll worry about what we’ll do to make it till spring.”
“Okay.” Mattie nods. “Let’s go.”
I almost smile again at her determination, and we head back to the cottage. In the three days since we came back from Corville, not much has changed. Darlene is still mainly bedridden, although she perks up on occasion, and Kerry slopes around the house, taking everything in while doing nothing, and making me nervous. Part of me wonders if she’s sizing everything up, or even if she’d kill us in our sleep. I don’t believe that, not really, but worry gnaws at me because I still don’t trust her, even if she came back with the truck.
Ruby has not spoken one word since we returned.
I’ve tried to get her to talk a couple of times, to no avail. The night we returned, I sat by her bed and stroked her hair untilshe fell asleep, murmuring assurances we both knew I couldn’t really give, and yet I meant them.It’s going to be okay. I’ll keep you safe. Daddy will be home soon.
Ruby simply stared at me with her big, brown eyes, unblinking, utterly silent. After about half an hour, she turned her head away. It was another hour before she fell asleep.
