Nathan Jones: Shortage

It was an excellent spot for looking out at the surrounding mountainsides from the hideout’s front door, and only a relatively short walk to the tops of the cliffs, which they could follow to look down at the entire stretch of Highway 31 in the valley below and the river running alongside it. Getting down to the river through all the slippery mulch beneath the dense deadfall, or up from the river to the hideout, was so tricky that even though they’d cleared a path and did their best to maintain it the climb was rough.

Getting supplies up it would be daunting, even with ropes.

Luckily there was another option. Old logging roads spidered the mountainsides up here, and one of them came within a few hundred yards of the hideout on the mountainside above. It meant they had to follow 31 north past the hideout for a few more miles to get to a bridge across the river, then follow that dirt road to where it branched off to their logging trail.

So even though they came within a few hundred yards of the hideout before noon, it was late afternoon before they managed to reach the spot on the logging road above it where they could tie ropes to their wagons and slowly ease them down the slope using a small pulley rig his cousin had brought tied to a nearby tree.

“We’re going to have to keep a watch on this road,” Lewis said idly as they worked, looking down it both ways. “Shame it isn’t below the hideout. As it is we won’t be able to see anyone coming unless we’re standing right on it looking.”

“At least they can’t see the hideout from here, either,” Trev replied wearily, unable to work up too much interest in the conversation even though he knew it was important. He was beyond exhausted and more than ready to give his overworked muscles a break after six days of heavy exercise. Even so, as they climbed down the slope after their wagons he couldn’t help but notice how much that work had built up their muscles. He only hoped they’d have enough food over the coming months to keep up that muscle mass.

Once they reached the gentler slope below they left their wagons behind for the moment to walk the last fifty or so feet to inspect the hideout.

It wasn’t anything like Trev remembered. The old structure made of crooked logs, piled sticks, and used particle board hammered here and there had been completely torn down and replaced by a small but sturdy south-facing log frame snugly covered by plywood, which had plastic and then tarps nailed over it for waterproofing and protection. Finally his cousin had used a shovel to bury the entire thing in dirt as completely as possible. A small stovepipe stuck out from the roof near the back, covered by a cone of odd mesh that his cousin explained helped break up the smoke so it wasn’t as visible.

When they went inside he saw the small wood stove in the corner that the pipe belonged to, along with a cot along the left wall, a card table and a few folding chairs on the back wall in front of the stove, and a kerosene lantern hanging from a hook on the ceiling. Another cot was leaning against the wall behind the first one and it looked like there was just enough room for it along the right wall. The floor was also made of plywood, and Lewis confirmed that he’d covered the bottom with plastic and tarp as well. Not only that but he’d dug a French drain below the structure to help channel any groundwater away.

Trev finished looking around the rebuilt lean-to and turned to give his cousin a rueful smile. “You wanted to spring this on me, didn’t you? Here all this time I thought we’d be huddled in a tiny dirt-floored hovel covered by sticks.”

Lewis grinned back. “I told you I’d improved it.”

“Was this another part of your preparations for the end of the world as we know it?”

His cousin hesitated, then shrugged. “Yes and no. I’ve been spending enough time up here cutting firewood that it was worth building a decent place to stay, but at the same time I suppose I did have a scenario like this floating in the back of my head.”

The interior was a bit chilly from disuse, although mitigated by the sun shining on the front, but even so Trev didn’t feel any drafts. The small stove would be enough to heat the space even during the coldest months, and as long as he didn’t mind the cramped conditions this was the kind of place he could picture himself spending a harsh winter.

He turned back to Lewis. “Have I mentioned before how lucky I am that you’re letting me enjoy the benefits of all your hard work?”

“Plenty of times, although hearing it never gets old.” His cousin clapped him on the back. “Come on, let’s get everything packed inside. Then we should think about building a sturdy icehouse a bit away where we can store any meat we might hunt or fish, or anything else that needs preserving or might attract predators. I’ve got some leftover plywood and nails that should be enough.”

Trev did his best not to groan at the thought of all that work, tired as he was, and Lewis laughed at his expression and as he finished. “Starting tomorrow. For now let’s just get our supplies inside and get this place ready to live in. I for one wouldn’t mind turning in early after a big meal.”

The first thing they did after unloading their supplies and doing a few small tasks to make the hideout more comfortable was fire up the stove, just in time as it started to really get colder with the sun set. Lewis had it lit in no time at all, and as the small wood fire inside started to blaze and the small metal box began radiating heat they took the opportunity to cook their first hot meal in a week: more canned chili.

It was a surprising luxury for Trev to strip off his winter clothes and relax in one of the chairs in pants and shirtsleeves, enjoying the feel of warm air radiating against him as the chili heated. Although when Lewis joined him Trev couldn’t help but be reminded that their clothes could do with some serious washing and so could they.

His cousin caught his expression. “Get used to it. We should definitely try to keep clean, of course, but it doesn’t hurt to remember that even a hundred years ago daily showers were a luxury, and two hundred years ago the majority of people stank to high heavens. Humans are one of the more smelly animals out there, after all. Easy to forget that with modern grooming.”

Trev made a face. “This is a great conversation for building up an appetite.”

In spite of his grumbling when the meal was ready he dug into his chili with a ferociousness only known to someone who’s done nearly a week of heavy exercise eating his first hot meal in all that time. Although even as much as he enjoyed it, as he ate Trev still suggested going fishing the next day; just the thought of fresh trout dusted with lemon pepper made his mouth water.

Lewis agreed that that was a good idea. After they finished building the icehouse.

Once the meal was over they banked the fire and set up Trev’s cot, which just barely fit on the other side of the lean-to from Lewis’s with the table and chairs in between. Since it was still a bit early to turn in his cousin suggested they heat some water and do some of that aforementioned bathing, and Trev was quick to agree. That was another luxury he’d missed.

One of the things Lewis had brought was half a dozen large but light metal water pails with wire handles all stacked one inside the other, one of which they packed with snow and set on the stove. His cousin volunteered for that task, hauling himself back into his winter clothes.

When he got back with the packed bucket they watched the snow inside slowly melt, until Lewis began fidgeting impatiently. “Listen, why don’t you wash up first while I go scout the surrounding area and make sure we’re alone up here?”