Tent City (8 page)

“Speaking of that,” Kit starts, “where are we supposed to live since this cabin looks occupied and this is technically Dani’s cabin.”

“This is kind of headquarters, so I don’t think I can give it up, and the other cabins are occupied as well. The cabins go to the people who have been here the longest. The most I can offer you for now is a tent. Take it or leave it. Even if I offered you one of the other cabins, I would just be putting everyone in a bad spot. Not exactly the best way to start making friends.”

I’m totally irritated by this. Who does he think he is? “Headquarters,” he says. Ha. I can tell this is his cabin and he just doesn’t want to give it up. I guess I can’t blame him. If I had only gotten here first, I wouldn’t be giving it up either.

Life here is going to be hard to get used to. I want to hang onto the supplies my dad gave specifically for us, but Bentley thought it would be better to contribute to the community pantry.

He opened the door to the cabin that was the “community pantry” and it’s filled wall-to-wall with supplies.

“You have so much? Why do we have to give you what we brought in?” I ask.

“Food sharing. It’s what we do. If Grant bags a deer, is it just his to eat, or do you think it would be better to spread the wealth?” He starts unloading my mom’s peaches onto an already overflowing shelf and they teeter on the ledge. I wince imagining them hitting the floor and shattering.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you keep your equipment, well, except for the wheelers. Those are community property now,” he says as he straightens up the peaches. 

I consider asking if it’s community property just as long as we stay on, but I’m afraid of the answer. Besides, if it comes to it, we’ll just leave when we need to.

It’s a comfort to see how well stocked this place is if we are going to be staying awhile, but it looks like it’s all government packaged food. I would have thought it would be more living off the land.

“You’ve got cheese?” I ask.

“Sure, sometimes even milk.” Milk. I haven’t had milk in so long. The cows left on the farm aren’t dairy cows. My mind drifts to warm cookies and chilled milk. Most everything we eat seems to be wild game, some form of stale bread, or canned vegetables. If I never had to eat deer meat again, it would be okay with me.

As far as tents go, ours was a small canvas tent. The one I brought was probably bigger, but I was too distracted to put it up. Inside the tiny area, the floor was made of pine needles. I imagined that when setting our sleeping bags on it, it would do just fine.

I unpacked our lanterns, first aid kit, radio, clothes, a few books I brought along, Brody’s toys, and our medicines, (which I was careful not to reveal we had). I hid what I considered valuable under the pine needles and arranged the sleeping bag on top.

Our new home was pretty nice and everything, but I was eager to get out and see the land we would be working with.

“Wanna go check this place out?” I ask, as I exit the tent and see Kit chatting up the new neighbors.

“Nah, I think I’ll stick around here, if that’s okay with you.”

“Making friends already?”

“Someone has to,” she says with a smile.

“Mind if I go for a run?”

“Of course not,” she says, barely looking at me as she is already laughing with a couple of girls who live in a tent beside us. I feel a sense of her Sweaty Betty jokes in the laughter.

I’m anxious to get a good run in today. The last one seemed to get cut short a bit when I ran into Jack and it’s probably going to take a good six miler to clear my head.

Jack. He crosses my mind once in a while. I’m not sure why. I knew him for only a day, but there was something mysterious about him. He said he was a drifter, but didn’t look or act like a drifter. I find myself wondering about his family and why he was all alone. I shake him from my thoughts and pick up the speed. The last thing I need to be thinking about is some boy.

It’s very quiet out here. The only thing I can hear is the sound of leaves and twigs crunching under my feet. After about 20 minutes, I’m in an area that doesn’t look like it’s been traveled much. The going is much harder, but then that’s when I enter my element.

It’s sort of a climb, so it’s taking more out of me to cross more ground, which is really what I’m after. For some reason, the more my body has to work, the less my mind does. I’ve even reached a point where I can stop thinking about Mom and Dad for a while.

I know they must be worried sick and it breaks my heart to think of Mom in that desperate place I’ve seen her before. I’ve come across some squirrels and birds, which I take as a good sign.

By the time I get back, I’m spent. I collapse on the ground and I know I’m lying still, but it’s as if I’m still moving.
  There’s a hum vibrating through my legs and I’ve attained what I was after. I don’t know what would happen if I ever lost the ability to run: lost the ability to find myself again. I clean up and go off to find Kit and Brody.

I find them lounging around a campfire with Brody on Kit’s lap. I’m really glad she came with us. This would be so much worse without her. When I first thought of taking her along, I thought I was doing her the favor by saving her from the safety camp, but realistically she’s going to save me. What would I do if I had to look after Brody myself?

They are listening to a girl, who looked to be about 16, tell about how she came to this tent community. She says she lived in Ohio, but her stepdad kicked her out of the house when they ran out of food. She says he told her she needed to go out and make her own way. She had two little brothers she had to leave behind.

She goes on to explain how life on the road was hard, almost never having enough to eat or drink. She says how every day she just wished she could find a bed to sleep in and have food in her belly. She said there were bad things that happened out on the road, which thankfully she didn’t get into since Brody sat captivated.

Then she said she met Bentley, who picked her up and brought her here. She says she’s been here for eighteen months. Eighteen months! It’s almost as if this is just home for these kids and this is where they see the rest of their lives playing out.

I’d never intended on staying here longer than a few months. I realized deep down, I was hoping we would be out before winter actually hit.

“Eighteen months?” I ask. “So that means you were here last winter?”

“Yes,” she responds.

“How do the tents work when it’s winter? Surely, it can’t be warm enough?”

“I’m not sure,” she says. She seems to be contemplating when she goes on to say, “There weren’t many of us last winter. When winter hit, we all just crammed into the cabins at night. Not sure what we’re going to do this winter. I’m sure Bentley will think of something.” She says this in a way like Bentley is the know-all. What is he going to do, magically build 20 more cabins?

The girl, who we learned is named Tina, tells us that every night at camp everyone eats together and sits around telling stories and making plans for the next day.

I want to learn more, but after the morning run and all we’ve had to process, I decide to go back to our new home with Brody and take a power nap before supper.

The nap was actually amazing. I did hear what sounded like coyotes howling, but they seemed so far away that I didn’t allow myself to feel fear.

You would think with the coyotes, and all these people milling about, that it would be too noisy to get any rest during the day, but it’s very peaceful up here in these deep rolling hills.

It’s not quite the mountains, but we are up here a ways, and I can see why this would be a good place to hide out. It’s probably hard to find, unless you know exactly what you are looking for.

Even with all the bright tents that would seem to stick out like a sore thumb, they’re still covered well by all the trees. I think that’s what my dad and the others who built these cabins had in mind. They wanted to feel like they were away from all the hustle and bustle of the city and just be one with nature.

I get up to find Kit is already up and busy in our new tent home. She’s got an area set up, which I guess you would call a vanity. Leave it to her to think to bring along a mirror. She’s applying some makeup and she has placed her long blonde hair into pigtails. Only she could pull that off.  

“What are you doing?” I ask her, surprised at the fuss.

“What do ya mean?” she asks fluttering her veil of eyelashes, a move she uses to either appear innocent, or flirt with some defenseless boy.

“Why all this?” I motion to an unusually large spread of make-me-beautiful items.

I expect her to give some offhand excuse of why a girl needs to look her best, but instead, she puts her hands on my shoulders and lowers me to a sitting position.

“Now, just sit still,” she says as she begins with some eye shadow. “I know you don’t like all this stuff, but it can’t hurt to put a little time into yourself. I know you think it’s not important how you look, but it’s not just about other people. I do this because when I walk out of here, I’m going to feel good about myself because I like what I see,” she says, emphasizing the word I.

I let her do whatever she wants to because I see it’s making her happy. But she’s right. I don’t see what the point of all of it is, especially now that we are out here in the middle of nowhere. She tells me, it’s especially important now that we are in the middle of nowhere.

She puts me in a ridiculous green sequined tank top that looks even more ridiculous with my khaki cargo pants, but she’s so tickled I decide to just deal with it. She giggles with delight at her finished product and hands me the mirror.

Surprisingly, I like what I see. I was picturing a circus clown by the way she was frantically applying what seemed to be layer after layer of makeup, but what I see is just a better version of me.

She has smoothed my dark hair and put it in a loose French twist, put just enough makeup on to make me look better without noticing the makeup, and then just a touch of lip gloss. Maybe she does know what she’s doing. Not sure why I doubted her. She always looks great.

The atmosphere and mood around camp is dramatically different from what it was earlier. Everyone seemed to be wary of us this morning, but almost welcoming now. Maybe they found out about all the supplies we brought in. Most of the fire rings have been lit and there is music playing from a small radio. I imagine the only people who can hear it are the ones standing next to it. Sounds like country twang, but it’s oddly appropriate. There is a slight breeze rolling through, carrying the smell of pine. People are lighthearted and laughing.

We walk cautiously towards camp, each with one of Brody’s hands, slinging him up every couple of steps, eager to earn his giggles. Towards the center of the large fire there is a big pot of something bubbling that looks like chili.

I find myself wondering again where they get all these supplies. Kids are bustling about trying to get their bowls filled and the three of us wait patiently as Bentley walks up with three sodas in hand. He gives one to each of us and then invites us over to his table. Brody and I sit down and Kit goes to get our food.

“Where on earth did you guys get soda from?” I ask him.

“Easy,” he says, as I realize it came off more harshly than I intended.

“Ever heard,
don’t kick a gift horse in the mouth
?” he asks smiling.

“Yeah…I have,” I begin, “but I think it’s,
don’t look a gift horse in the mouth
?”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?” he asks.

“Well…it’s an old proverb. It started when some old guy gave some schmuck a free horse and then the schmuck starts counting the teeth, because that’s how they could tell how old the horse was. So instead of being thankful for a free horse, he immediately starts estimating its value by counting it’s teeth, making him…a schmuck.” As the words leave my mouth, the voice in my head is telling me to shut up because I know I sound like a know-it-all, but I find myself unable to control it. Kit rolls her eyes, because she’s actually heard this from me before.