Sarah covered her mouth. Was it over? Was the nightmare really about to be over?
“They got cars working again?” David asked.
“They shipped some in from Germany and Italy,” Mike said. “This bloke said Dublin’s got power on and off and he heard there was activity in Limerick, too.” He looked at Sarah. “United States military looks like.”
John put the cell phone back onto the table. “So,” he said, “we’re going home.”
Sarah looked at him with surprise as his flat tone. He met her eyes over the table and walked back over to where Gavin was sitting.
“I’m thinking the lad’s got the right of it,” Mike said, looking at Sarah. “You’ll likely be leaving soon. Probably don’t even need to bother planting. You won’t be here for the harvest.”
“Wow.” David sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. He looked at Sarah and smiled. “That is news,” he said.
“So I was thinking,” Mike said, speaking to David now. “It might make sense for the three of you to come into the community. No sense in making a go of it here. And you’ll be safer with us among a group.”
Sarah knew David had no intention of moving them into the community—temporarily or not. They’d had a few words about it but, in the end, the agreement had been to let David have his way. Her eyes flickered to Mike as he sat easily in the armchair drinking his whiskey.
In more ways than one, it might be safer for them to stay where they were.
“No, thanks, Mike,” David said, moving over to Sarah and draping an arm around her shoulders. “We’re just fine here until the US gets off its ass and comes to rescue us.”
Sarah watched something pass across Mike’s face but it was too fleeting to identify. He leaned over to refill all their glasses although Sarah hadn’t taken the first sip from hers.
“So, we’ll drink to it, eh?” He held up his glass: “To rescue and getting things back to normal. And to the Woodsons getting back home.”
“Here, here,” David said, drinking.
“Cheers,” Sarah said in a whisper, but didn’t touch her glass.
Well, Mom, I haven’t written in so long but since you haven’t been receiving any of these letters anyway I didn’t think you’d mind. LOL. It’s been two months since we fought the gypsies and won and five months since what people around here refer to as “the Crisis.” The rest of our story isn’t brief and, except for the occasional terror with chasing down an errant chicken, life is actually a little boring here in a pleasant non scared-for-your-life sort of way. Ha ha.
When we found out last month that rescue might be imminent, it’s hard to explain but life actually got harder! Up until then, we relished every little pleasure or luxury we could get—whether it was a hot bath or a real chicken dinner instead of beans but as soon as we heard that this period of our lives really was temporary, it seems all we could do was focus on the things we were missing and were waiting for us back home. It’s hard to explain.
We’ve been happy here. I know that sounds bizarre and as I look back over it, I’m kind of surprised, myself. But we have. And honestly, except for missing you and Dad, our lives here have been much richer than anything we had back home. Crazy, huh? No electricity, no cars, no shopping! Doesn’t make sense to me, either.
Anyway, I’m beyond hopeful and anxious to see you and Dad again after all this time.
Three months after writing that letter, Sarah found herself standing by the fence behind Deidre and Seamus’s cottage and watching John trot his pony in the direction of Donovan’s community.
While the community was an easy two-mile ride on horseback across the pastures, the way John went, it was nearer to five by the road—a road already grown over with weeds and bushes after seven months of non-use by automobiles. Sarah always thought the Irish roads better suited to horses anyway. They wound and twisted in illogical gyrations that seemed to fit a horse’s meandering style of travel.
It had been four months since they found out that rescue was coming. Four months of letter writing and hoping and waiting.
But no one came.
It had been a hard winter—one in which, because they hadn’t planted anything—they had needed to rely on food and fellowship from Mike’s growing community. And while it kept them alive, the dependency did little to assuage David’s growing resentment and frustration as the months ticked by and no word of rescue came.
As Sarah watched John disappear from sight, knowing he would be safe once he got to Mike’s place, knowing he would be surrounded by his friends and watched over by Mike and Fiona, she wondered for the thousandth time why she and David needed to live so far outside the circle.
But, of course, she knew why.
“Anything in the traps?”
Sarah turned to watch her husband trudge up the hill toward her, his face slack and guarded against hope. It was only September, but already the traps were usually empty, the rabbits having tucked themselves up in their burrows until the Irish weather proved more accommodating.
She pointed to the trap at her feet, the body of the little rabbit ensnared in it.
“Thank God,” David said, bending down to pry open the steel jaws.
She looked over his shoulder at the expanse of pasture behind him. As far as she could see it was green, studded by one or two grazing animals.
“John just left to go over to Mike’s place,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. David made a face. She knew he was conflicted about their son spending so much time in the community. But the boy was fed and cared for there—something David and Sarah struggled to do on a daily basis.
“I know. I told him to be back in time for dinner,” he said. “And now there’ll be something for him to eat when he does.”
Sarah glanced at the trap, the spring still bloodied, then watched her husband pull out his knife and begin to skin the rabbit. It never ceased to amaze her how much their lives had changed. If you had told her a year ago this time that David would be able to skin a rabbit without even thinking twice about it…well, a lot had happened in a few short months.
Her gaze strayed again to the tree line at the end of the pasture, where she could just make out the fire of the main cook stoves, which always burned. She wondered what was on the camp menu tonight. Fresh rabbit or not, she wouldn’t blame John if he’d rather stay in the camp.
“Oh, my,” she said suddenly, “I just remembered there’s a council meeting tonight. I promised Fi we would come. Do you mind very much? We can bring the rabbit.”
David followed the direction of her gaze. “No. As it happens, I have something to say at the meeting for a change.”
Sarah turned to him and frowned. “You do?” She watched his fingers move quickly to strip the skin from the rabbit, turning it before her eyes from a furry woodland creature to a piece of steak ready for the grill.
He stood up and wiped his blade against his jeans. “I didn’t want to say anything before but I saw something when I was out riding the western pasture today.”
“Saw something? Saw what?” Sarah could feel the anxiety creeping into her arms and legs. She turned toward the community. The western pasture wasn’t any where near it but she suddenly didn’t like the feeling of John being out of sight.
“It might be nothing,” he said, following her gaze. “I found some cart grooves, like someone came through during the night carrying something heavy in the back. There were a bunch of cigarette butts on the ground, too.”
Sarah sucked in a breath. Cigarettes were the first things everyone ran out of after the bomb dropped. Everyone around these parts, any way.