Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The boys stood in the center of the cabin, awash in the gray morning light.

"Go find a backpack or something to carry all our gear," said Isaac to Simon who was clinging to his arm. "And you have to promise not to cry, do you understand?"

"I'm not gonna cry," replied Simon with a shaky voice.

"Because if you do…"

"I said I'm not gonna cry," answered Simon firmly.

Isaac studied his brother. "Alright. Get going then."

Simon swallowed hard and cautiously walked toward the hallway, peeking around the corner before entering.

Isaac started in the kitchen. He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets and opened the refrigerator, wincing at the musty smell. He knew no food items would be anywhere in the kitchen, for his mother was always extremely thorough about not leaving anything for the rats and other vermin. But he felt he had to try regardless.

After a minute or two of searching and not finding any food, Isaac stood in front of the last drawer — a drawer his mother had said to never open. He grabbed the cold handle and pulled, revealing inserts filled with knives.

He stared at them, unsure of which ones he would need, so he took one of each: a steak knife, a paring knife, a carving knife, and a chef's knife. He closed the drawer, but after a moment of thought, he reopened it and grabbed the meat cleaver, surprised by how heavy it was.

The boys studied the items spread out on the living room rug — knives, a coil of green paracord rope, a box of matches, three band-aids, black electrical tape, a roll of toilet paper, two bottles of water, and a bedsheet with prints of pink, purple, and white daisies.

Isaac knelt down and promptly started putting these articles into a small backpack that Simon had found, a backpack their father had used on their day hikes. After he was done, he put the backpack on, tightened the straps, and walked around the cabin living room in a circle.

"It's not so bad," he said. "Not heavy at all."

"But I can hear the knives clinking," replied Simon with a fearful tone.

"Right…" Isaac realized what his brother meant. He took off the backpack, knelt on the floor again, and took out all the items. He grabbed the paring knife and began to cut a part of the bedsheet into short ribbons and sheathed each knife individually with cloth, securing the binding with electrical tape. Afterward, he replaced all the items into the backpack and circled the living room.

Isaac raised his brows as if to say, good enough? Simon answered with a deepening frown.

The early morning sun breached the distant hills and the last fingers of the dense fog clung to the valley floor. The two boys stepped out of the cabin, outside for the first time in many weeks. Isaac noticed the gravel where the wheels of their father's car had slipped, revealing the dark dirt underneath.

"We gotta get to those trees and stay out of sight as much as possible," Isaac said.

"I can't," Simon responded, shaking his head. "I wanna go back to the cellar."

It was still cold enough for Isaac to see his brother's breath come out in short, rapid plumes that dissipated quickly.

"We can't," said Isaac firmly. "If we do, we're going to starve to death, do you understand?"

After a slight pause, Simon nodded.

"Let's go then," said Isaac. "Here, you can take my hand."

Simon gripped his brother's hand tightly while never taking his eyes off the trees directly ahead, several hundred yards out and beyond the meadow of deer grass and chaparral.

As they started to walk, the gravel seemed to explode under Isaac's sneakers every time he took a step, reminding him of microwave popcorn. But soon, and thankfully, they stepped off the gravel and onto the dirt road, which took them to the footpath that wound through the weeds, which were past Simon's head and almost to Isaac's chin.

"You're going to have to let go of my hand now. It's too narrow here for us to walk side by side," said Isaac, "but you can grab onto the back of my jacket if you need to." Perhaps it was the abruptness or the desperation, but Isaac felt a twinge of annoyance when Simon roughly grabbed the back of his jacket. Isaac was about to yell at him not to pull so hard, but he managed to restrain himself after he made sure Simon heard his sigh and saw the rolling of his eyes.

"Come on," Isaac said, his annoyance barely hidden.

The two followed the well-worn footpath through the field, a path they had taken countless times in the past summers when they had played hide and seek and hunted grasshoppers among the chaparral. They made it into the woods where patches of snow still lay beneath the shadows of towering pines.

"Okay, we're here. It's going to be safer for us in these trees," Isaac said, gently but firmly pulling Simon's grip off his jacket. "We need sticks. Are you listening? If it bends, or if you can break it, it's useless to us. Find ones that are as thick as your thumb, okay?"

"Okay," Simon responded, still not completely at ease.

The two boys stepped gingerly through the crackling twigs and deeper into the woods, picking up branches along the way and bending them to test their durability.

"Isaac!" Simon yelled. "Come here, quickly!"

Isaac grit his teeth, fighting the urge to yell back to tell Simon to keep his voice down. Impatiently, he joined Simon, who was staring down into a ditch.

"What is it?" Isaac said sharply.

"Look," Simon said, pointing down at a large, decomposed animal, its bones half buried in the dirty snow and its gray fur caked with mud. "What do you think it is?"

"I don't know."

"Can we eat it?"

"Are you stupid? How are we going to eat that, you dummy."

"But I'm hungry."

"Listen, we have three cans of beef stew back at the cabin. If we don't catch anything today, we can have one can, and I'll give you most of it, okay?

"Okay."

"Now, come on. We need more sticks. How many have you found?"

Simon produced a solitary stick from his pocket. Isaac sighed with exasperation once again and rolled his eyes.

"Come on. Let's go."

After several more minutes of scouring, the boys had the sticks they needed. They found a log where they sat, and Isaac took off the backpack, withdrew the paring knife and pulled it out of its cloth sheath. He spotted a smooth rock jutting out of the earth. He dug it out, and hefted the stone. Satisfied, he turned to Simon.

"I need you to hold the end of the stick, like this, do you understand?"

"Yeah," said Simon with a tired voice.

"Don't move it," Isaac ordered, emphasizing each word.

"I won't."

With Simon bracing one end of the stick, Isaac set the edge of the knife against the wood, and with the rock, he lightly struck the back of the knife. He struck it more firmly, and it was almost through. One more time, and the knife had neatly taken off a curled shaving of wood, tapering the stick at one end.

Feeling more relief than elation, Isaac continued to chisel the point until it was sharp. He held up the point and admired it. It had taken him only two or three minutes. After another thirty minutes or so, the boys had a dozen finely sharpened sticks.

"We have to get going. It's getting late," said Isaac.

The two traveled deeper into the woods until in the late afternoon, they came upon a clearing.

"This is it," Isaac said. "Look for the trails. We came here last summer with Dad, and he pointed them out, remember? He said that animals used them to travel through the woods. Help me look for them."

They brushed aside leaves and stalks of grass until Simon spotted a gap between bushes. "Is this something?" he asked.

"Yes! That's it! Let's start here."

With their bare hands, they dug into the soft earth in front of the gap, but it was arduous work. Long after the sun set, and in near darkness, the boys had a pit about three feet deep and three feet across. Exhausted, Isaac got on his stomach and twisted the sharpened sticks into the bottom of the pit so that the points were about six inches above the dirt. When the last stick was driven in, he gingerly laid twigs across the opening and covered it with leaves and grass. Tired, dirty, and hungry, the boys admired their work, but only for a moment.

"Let's get back to the cabin," Isaac said.

"What do you think we'll catch?"

"I don't know." Isaac had neither the strength nor the will to tell Simon that the odds of catching anything in a trap like that was extremely low, and even with a dozen traps, it could be days until an animal was caught. He had intended on digging more pits that day, but everything had taken much longer than he had anticipated. I'll have to remember that, he thought to himself.

"I hope it's a pig. I'm so in the mood for bacon," said Simon.

"There are no wild pigs around here, dummy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Isaac snapped. He wasn't sure, however. He actually had no idea, but he wasn't about to let Simon know that.

The boys took several more paces towards the direction they came from when Isaac stopped.

"What's wrong?" asked Simon.

"Do you remember where the trail is back to the cabin?"

Simon scanned the trees, some clustered closely together while others were spaced fifteen to twenty feet apart. "No," he answered nervously.

"Help me find it," said Isaac. But after a brief search, Isaac realized they had only one option.

"We have to find a place we can spend the night," he said.

"Out here? All night? We have to go back!"

"I can't see where I'm going! We'll get even more lost if we keep this up!"

Simon looked around him frantically. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"Come on," Isaac replied, taking Simon's hand and leading him up the hill to some fallen logs. He made a hasty inspection for spiders and took out the flower print bed sheet and spread it on the ground. They sat on one edge and pulled the other half over their heads tightly.

As their body temperatures lowered, the boys began to shiver uncontrollably.

"Can we start a fire?" asked Simon, his voice trembling. "We have matches, right?"

"There were only three in the box. We need to save them," Isaac said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. "Lie down," he told Simon. Isaac then pulled the bed sheet over his brother and covered him with the dried leaves that were all around. He lay next to him and gathered the leaves over himself as well. But still, they were shaking enough to make the leaves rustle.

"I'm so hungry," said Simon.

"I know. Me too."

"And I'm scared."

Isaac hesitated.

"We'll be okay," he said, looking up at the trees towering over them. "We'll be okay."

The boys awakened to a high-pitched squealing that echoed through the morning stillness. They jumped up and sprinted towards the sound, dried leaves clinging to their hair and clothes.

When they got to the trap, they saw most of the sharpened sticks on their sides and covered in blood and the pit scratched as if something had been thrashing around violently inside.

"It must still be around here. Look for any signs. Hurry!" Isaac said.

The boys scanned the area, through bushes and over logs.

"Over here! Quickly!" screamed Simon.

Isaac bounded over to Simon who was crouching behind a bush, and peeking over it at something.

"Do you see it?" asked Simon excitedly.

There, under an outcrop of granite, was a large jackrabbit with upright ears and a short black tail. Its brown fur was matted with blood, and two sharpened sticks were deeply embedded in its abdomen, which was heaving erratically.

"What do we do?" asked Simon.

"I don't know. I think we can just wait until it dies."

"But… what if it runs away?"

Isaac sat on the ground to think more clearly. He spotted a crooked branch that was about five feet long with jagged knots. He crawled to it, and from his backpack, he took out a steak knife and the twelve-inch carving knife. After a short consideration, he put the steak knife back, and using the electrical tape, he tightly wrapped the carving knife to one end of the branch. He crawled over to Simon and handed the makeshift spear to him.

"I'm not going to do it! Are you crazy?"

"Listen," said Isaac in a forced whisper, "we're on our own until Mom and Dad get back. You need to learn to do stuff like this eventually."

"No way! You do it. You're the older brother!"

Isaac glared at him angrily. "Fine," he said. "I can't believe how much of a baby you are."

Isaac gripped the spear tighter, peeked at the rabbit, and stepped out from behind the bush. The rabbit's ears twitched as Isaac approached. Blood was smeared on the rocks, but not as much as Isaac had expected. He stepped softly on the hard-packed dirt towards the rabbit, which tried to scurry further into its hiding place, its claws scratching against the granite. Isaac considered throwing the spear, but decided against it. To his surprise, he was able to approach the rabbit to within thrusting distance. Being this close, he could see that the rabbit was much larger than he had first believed, and once again, he felt fear. It was a feeling he was getting used to.

He clenched the rough wood tighter, pointed the tip of the knife straight at the rabbit's side, and thrust as hard and as deeply as he could.

Immediately, the jackrabbit started to thrash, emitting screams that sounded like the distressed cries of an infant, and its flailing was so violent, the spear was torn from Isaac's hands.

Isaac stumbled backward, almost tripping on a rock. He caught himself and ran back behind the bush where Simon was sitting with his eyes shut and his hands pressed firmly against his ears.

After an interminable moment, the dying squeals of the jackrabbit subsided. The boys came out from the bush and hesitantly walked up to the animal, which was lying on its side. The spear had become dislodged, and blood was flowing freely from a deep cut, but it was still alive. They watched wordlessly, and Isaac considered dropping a rock on top of its head to end its suffering, but its breathing became shallower and shallower until it finally ceased.

The boys made their way back to the cabin, chatting excitedly about how they were going to prepare the rabbit and wondering what it would taste like. Simon was now wearing the backpack, which covered the entirety of his back like a tortoise shell.

And Isaac still had the spear in his possession, which he was using as a walking stick. The jackrabbit had been tied and slung to his back with a rope that was pinching his shoulders, but he didn't mind. It had been over a day since they had eaten anything, and the prospect of eating fresh meat was enough to keep him going.

"How are we going to skin it?" asked Simon.

Isaac thought about it for a moment. "Um… like a grape, I guess."

"It's going to be so good! How are we going to cook it?"

"In the fireplace."

"I wish we had some mac and cheese to go with it, don't you, Isaac?"

But he wasn't listening. He grabbed Simon's arm and stopped him. They were standing on the edge of the field with the open space to the cabin before them.

"Was the door open when we left yesterday?"

Isaac was staring at the front door of the cabin, which was halfway ajar.

"I… I can't remember."

Isaac pulled Simon back to him, and they hid behind a tall growth of grass and watched the cabin closely.

"Maybe it's Dad," Simon whispered. "Maybe he's finally back for us."

Isaac scanned the surrounding area.

"I don't see his car. It can't be him. Besides…"

A loud crash of breaking glass from within the cabin interrupted his thought. The boys caught their breaths. There followed what sounded to them like frantic footsteps on the floorboards, then another crash.

The boys spun around and sprinted away from the cabin, heedless of the stalks of chaparral lashing their cheeks. They fell a few times on the uneven ground but got up and continued to run for several minutes until they were completely spent of energy.

They collapsed behind a boulder, lying flat on the ground, struggling to breathe.

"It's okay," gasped Isaac. "There's nothing behind us."

"What… what was it, Isaac?"

"I don't know. Probaby another deer."

"Are you sure?"

Isaac didn't answer.

"What are we going to do?" asked Simon.

Isaac buried his face in his arms. He was so tired and hungry, and the thing he wanted the most at that moment was to be back home in his bed. And the least was to answer Simon's question.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the sky.

"We have to go down to Arrow Springs," he said. "We can't make it up here for long without supplies anyways."

"That's… so far."

"I know."

Isaac got to his feet and started walking. It was Simon's turn to bury his face in his arms, but he too got to his feet, and the two brothers began their long trek down.