Tribes

by Mia Frances

To my BFF Frank, I couldn't do any of this without you! Thank you for your continued love and support!

this would be a nice addition to the book. There are a lot of characters to keep track of. DRAMATIS PERSONAE: Cat Macri Cat's children Deana (age 13, the oldest) Justin Mishelle Alex Ryan nee Macri (Age 33) Tori Macri Tori's children Lindsey Seth Shawn (2nd youngest) Derek (the youngest) Found children Charles (Age 12?) Jasmine Marissa (Age 12) Ben Wolf (Age Early 40s?)

Cat didn't limit the quest for redemption to just her; she wanted to drag everyone she knew and loved to heaven with her,

herself;

Cat didn't limit the quest for redemption to just her; she wanted to drag everyone she knew and loved to heaven with her,

A very annoying trait of the zealots; they feel they must impose their beliefs on everyone else.

Alex tried a couple of dating apps and did meet a few guys that way. But most of them turned out to be older, fatter, balder, or poorer than what they posted online. She eventually gave up, deciding it was preferable to remain single rather than settle for someone who couldn't be trusted to tell the truth.

Which always amazes me. Do these guys actually think that women won't notice, or won't care, about the discrepency?

Worse still, he frequently behaved like a pea-brained Neanderthal

I don't think neanderthals deserve being insulted this way.

The only interest they shared was a love of the outdoors. They were both fond of the mountains, of camping and fishing, and hiking wilderness trails.

There are worse bases to found a mariage upon.

she and Matt got along better than most couples, at least so far. But then it had only been two years.

Which would put Alex's age around 33 years old, maybe 34.

Matt loved her, or at least she thought he did. He rarely said it. He tried his best to make her happy though. What more could she require of a man? She loved him too, but not with the same intense passion they wrote about in the romance novels she favored. Still, the feeling was strong and constant

I think successful marriages have less to do with passionate love than they have to do with both parties (or all parties, in the cases of polygamous/polyandrous/group) in the marriage putting effort into maintaining their relationship(s) with one another.

If hell existed, she hoped there was a special place reserved for politicians and scientists who created and wielded the implements of mankind's destruction.

To be fair, it is the military-industrial complex that has created the situaion of funding for research being more available for weaponizing knowledge and technology. The politicians enable it by bowing to the industrial PACs.

Thanks to modern technology, war had been elevated to new heights of savagery.

I think the degree of savagery in modern war is the same as those of the past; it is simply less personally agministered.

What kind of crackpot cretin could have done something so insane? The US?

Entirely probably with the orange menace behind The Resolute Desk.

The premise that since both sides would be annihilated, stockpiling nukes would deter war. Yeah right! Some deterrent. Everybody dies!

The acronym describes the idea succinctly M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction).

on their knees, like children begging forgiveness from a chastising father. Judgement day was at hand, those found unworthy would be cast into a burning lake of fire. But those who stood before

Kneel? Or stand? Make a decision!

the suitcases were too cumbersome to take across the river, but the food…that they had to have! She paused a moment trying to figure out how they'd manage that. There was a cooler full of chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, and other perishables in the carrier, plus three grocery bags full of canned goods, breakfast cereals, and snacks. How could she ever hope to get it all across?

The cans will be useful for making oil lamps, serving bowls, cups, etc. once they are emptied of food. They could even be used to boil water to sanitize it of pathogens.

bolder

boulder

water yet.

water, yet.

It was a fitting epitaph that some twenty years later, what had once been considered her great-grandma's bizarre penchant for weeds, might, in no small way, save their lives.

Wild greens are an important source of needed minerals and vitamins, but most are sorely lacking in calories and protein.

She knew for a fact there was Queen Anne's lace here. The white wildflower could be found in abundance in clearings throughout the region. She'd read someplace that it was nothing more than a wild carrot, its pale root edible. It wasn't elegant fare, but until the snow and cold froze the ground, it would keep them alive.

It would take a dozen plants to equate to one good sized carrot; additionally many people would easily confuse Queen Anne's Lace with Water Hemlock, which is deadly poisonous.

they'd have to resort to eating trees.

Specifically the inner bark of trees.

Scanning their surroundings for usable garbage: a cast-off can to cook with, an old bottle for water, shreds of paper to use for a fire, Alex caught sight of something red in the distance.

Why, pray tell, did she not save some of the cans from the food they took into the cave?

Not wasting any time, she quickly grabbed two packs down from the wall. They were heavy, obviously containing something, but she couldn't take the time to see what. She hurried back to the door, filling her lungs with fresh air as she laid the packs carefully on the ground. She entered again, this time going directly to the open boxes. One was filled to bursting with blister packs of fishhooks, another small packets of silver plastic sheeting called space blankets. Most of it was fishing equipment: line, sinkers, bobbers, lures, artificial bait. There were several collapsible telescopic fishing rods and reels. Some were small enough to fit in a large pocket or purse, others were a little larger and came in their own canvas carrying cases. Alex dumped it all into one box, dropping smaller items down her shirt for safekeeping, but she still had no food.

Riches galore in the circumstances described.

She could probably manage one or two more packs and even a few jackets.

Especially the coats and jackets; they might fit on the kids like coaks, but will still be warm.

Alex picked up several cans of Spam®, along with tuna, chicken, hash, deviled ham, Vienna sausages, beef stew, ravioli, and chili. Boxes of mac and cheese, rice, pasta, and ramen noodles. A dozen bags of beef and turkey jerky. Packets of flavored rice and noodle dishes. Anything nourishing! She even dug through the goo to retrieve a couple of dented cans that she thought might be soup. With one pack filled to overflowing,

she grabbed up the empty pack and, spying trail meals hanging from a display, quickly dumped them in. She still had room to spare. Passing an overturned shelf of soap, she picked up several bars and threw them in too. Discovering large bags of popping corn perched atop what had once been the vegetable bins, Alex filled the pack to the brim, strapped the flap down, and then stuffed the side pouches with more. Small and light to carry, one bag could provide enough food for a meal for all of them. It wasn't very nutritious, but at least it would be filling, quiet their hunger for a while. All she needed was something to pop it in. Alex noticed some rectangular-shaped, long-handled utensils hanging on a nearby wall. On closer inspection, she realized they were old-fashioned, campfire popcorn poppers. She grabbed two of them, figuring they could probably be used for other things too. Hanging next to them were a dozen, aluminum foil pans of Jiffy Pop®. She took them too. Alex pushed and shoved, straining the seams, trying to fit as much as she could into the packs. What she couldn't put inside, she strapped to the outside. That was it. She couldn't carry anymore.

Just as she was getting ready to leave, she noticed a smashed, glass display case beneath the register. It contained an assortment of knives and axes. Certain she could make good use of them, Alex reached in and selected four large hatchets, sticking them in her belt. Then picked out several hunting knives, jamming them into the pockets of her jeans. Alex also scooped up four water-powered flashlights. She'd seen them advertised on TV, but had no idea how they worked.

Basic tools which no one should be without.

Death was bloated, greenish-purple, and smelled of rot.

Death's aftermath is quite horrid.

weaved

wove

Though the collection of volumes was small, she did find a few helpful books: one about wild edibles, another on tree identification, two on self-sufficiency and traditional skills, and a pocket-sized mountaineering survival guide. She'd been nervous, sweat pouring down her back, alarmed at every sound, as she wandered between the shelves. Alex had carted off the books without incident, but had probably overlooked several other useful ones in her haste to leave.

For example, How-to books on the use of drop spindles, crochet, and/knitting could be useful for long term survival, but in this context would be of secondary importance.

she wasn't about to study the card catalogue in any depth.

Only 33 and she knows how to use something as archaic as a card catalog; she is quite the scholar.

It was more than just a cold snap they'd been having. The bombs had somehow screwed up the weather, plunging them into an early winter.

The nuclear winter effect.

"We huddled together. Slept in pine beds." "Pine beds?" she repeated. "Yeah. You cut the bottom branches off an evergreen tree, anything with needles, and make a mattress. Nice and thick.

Five inches, minimum; more is better. They prevent the greatest drain on the body's heat -- ground conduction.

dandelion, dock, and chicory, would provide them with an occasional meal of fresh greens when other food sources grew scarce. They were all readily available in the area, but the best plant for basement gardening according to the book, pokeweed, had yet to be found anywhere in the woods.

Purselain, nettle, fiddlehead fern, there are dozens more

through diligence and hard work, they'd managed to gather a substantial quantity of roots for winter. burdock, Jerusalem artichoke, Queen Anne's lace, evening primrose, and goat's beard, among others. Seeds were easier to find than roots, but harder to collect since each variety had to be kept separate from the others. Clover seeds were the most plentiful; but a half-bushel of dried blossoms only made two loaves of bread, barely enough for a meal. Goosefoot, dock, and pigweed, sometimes called amaranth, the pesky plants she'd spent years plucking out of her flowerbeds, now became desirable for their seeds, as well as the spinach-like greens their leaves would provide come spring.

Burdock,

through diligence and hard work, they'd managed to gather a substantial quantity of roots for winter. burdock, Jerusalem artichoke, Queen Anne's lace, evening primrose, and goat's beard, among others. Seeds were easier to find than roots, but harder to collect since each variety had to be kept separate from the others. Clover seeds were the most plentiful; but a half-bushel of dried blossoms only made two loaves of bread, barely enough for a meal. Goosefoot, dock, and pigweed, sometimes called amaranth, the pesky plants she'd spent years plucking out of her flowerbeds, now became desirable for their seeds, as well as the spinach-like greens their leaves would provide come spring.

The biggest challenge is knowing which plant is which and how to process the foodstuffs each provides. For example, knowing how to leech the tanin out of acorns to make them edible for humans is no longer common knowledge and is even less practiced.

Fruit was harder to come by. They located some wild crab apple trees and had picked quite a few of them, but they were inedible until cooked; and even then, lacking sugar to sweeten them, were sour enough to pucker your mouth.

Still valuable for their vitamin content.

Nut trees were everywhere: there were several varieties of hickory and oak, beech, butternut, black walnut, and hazelnut. The trick was gathering up the nuts before the squirrels got them. There were other things too: wild rose hips and red sumac cones for tart drinks and dried goldenrod, yarrow, and wild strawberry leaves for hot tea. She even collected the seeds of the Queen Anne's lace to use as sprouts.

Just are a high value food in a survival situation. They are typically high fat and high protein foods, though often difficult to shell out.

The most bountiful source of food grew beside the lakes and ponds and in the swampy wetlands. Water plants were their major source of sustenance. They gathered the seeds of the pickerel weed to make bread and mush and dug in the nearly frozen mud for cattail and arrowhead roots. They could continue harvesting the starchy tubers well into the winter, but once the ice became too thick to break they'd have to turn to their last line of defense in staving off starvation, eating tree bark.

Grated cattail roots can make some good, if slightly odd tasting, bicuits.

There had to be a way to get through it to the perch, bullheads, crappie, trout, and bass below, but she'd be damned if she could think of it.

A fish trap heavy eough to break through the ice on a long, stout rope might do the job.

It looked like a short cat-o'-nine-tails. A piece of wood functioned as the handle. Attached to it were 20 or so strings on whose ends were tied marble-sized stones. It was thrown at birds and small animals, momentarily stunning them and tangling around their feet or wings, rendering them incapable of escape. It sounded promising; now if it only worked!

The Inuit made such bolas for taking small game and birds; though they seldom exceeded twelve weights (sometimes carved from ivory). According to several books I've read bolas work surprisingly well for hunting geese, ducks, and swans.

There were gaps in her knowledge; so many facts to learn.

There are always gaps in any one person's knowledge. That's why we survive best in groups. One person's knowledge and skill filling one or more gaps in another's. No one can be an expert in everything. Even being moderately competent in a number of areas require diligent effort.

fashion candles,

Rush lights and oil/fat lamps would likely be much easier to manage.

The only fresh meat they'd had of late was a fat, old porcupine that had made the mistake of taking a leisurely stroll on a trail where Michele and Shawn were lurking. The slow-moving creature never had a chance. They'd stunned him with a hail of rocks, then stuck him with one of their spears, finally moving in for the kill, bashing its skull with a heavy length of wood. By the time they dragged the animal back to camp, it was so battered that if not for a few remaining quills here and there, no one would have known what it was.

Pity that, porcupine quills make excellent fish gorge hooks.

her back to Alex. She couldn't see either face. The one kneeling was draped head to toe in a blanket, making it impossible to determine the sex.

Female or undetermined? Pick one.

Religion was supposed to give solace, lift the spirit, not engender terror in the mind and heart of the believer.

No, engendering fear, terror in the minds of beleivers is the intent of the Christian religions. It's the easiest emotion to provoke which gives the holy men control over their flock of sheople.

world, remembered

world, be remembered

She'd collected a little bit of maple bark. One of her books said that when the whitish inner layer was boiled, it tasted like noodles.

I've not tried this as I didn't want to kill a free to satisfy my curiosity; which is the likeliest result of removing larger sections of bark for food.

The children had been busy collecting pine cones, birch bark, and bits of paper and yarn to make decorations for it. It surprised her how resilient the children were in the face of adversity. She fretted that there'd be nothing under the tree. But there was little she could do to remedy the situation. It wasn't that she hadn't thought about it. She had! Many times! Weighing the dangers of going out in search of trinkets and books, toys and candy. But every time she worked up her courage, she'd think back to that day at the museum and end up crying. The thought of him made her cringe. His face haunted her nightmares. What he did to her was bad enough, but what terrified her more was what he could have done. He could have kidnapped or killed her, leaving the children to starve.

The man was/is a rapist -- but looking at Alex and his previous interaction from outside the action; he views the rape as a barter of his goods for her services.

Alex was startled when she felt something soft laid over her. She opened her eyes a crack and saw it was a thick, plaid blanket. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up to see who was there. She gasped. The piercing blue eyes, the square jaw, the stubbly beard were all too familiar. It was the same face that had haunted her nightmares since that day at the museum.

Her previous rapist has killed the four rapists who were most recently raping her and carried her home; the rescue doesn't absolve him of his previous violation.

She closed her eyes, confused and afraid. What was he doing here, so far from the museum? Had he followed her that day? Was he stalking her? The fact that he'd risked his life to save her, that he was trying to help her, didn't allay her fears any. She didn't trust him.

There was only one answer…he knew where the camp was because he'd known of its existence all along. Her nightgown grew damp with sweat. What the hell was he up to? Rescuing her? Reuniting her with her family? Those were acts of kindness and compassion. But this man was neither kind nor compassionate.

The man may be protecting what he regards as his territory and his woman in his transactional view of the world. More simply, he's called "dibs" on her.