Okefenokee

They were back at work by mid afternoon. Cyndi was sewing some deer hide into moccasins using alligator hide as the sole for the boy whose feet were growing at a record pace. He never had real shoes but Rob and Cyndi also wore the leather shoes most of the time.

Rob and Junior took the boat out to check some remote fish traps they set a day earlier.

Once they were out away from the land he handed the oars to Junior who happily took over maneuvering around the high grass aiming at a sort of flag that Rob had attached to a cattail. He took it serious as if it was a game he played and he wanted to win. Junior had the boat close enough for Rob to grab the rope and pull up the trap.

Rob, “Empty I’m afraid. Next.”

Junior moved the boat along the edge of the grass field with great skill and hardly any oar motion. He had mastered the boat by watching his father for years. He had concentrated on proving to his dad that he was part of the team. The many distractions that children had prior to the deadly exposure left many over whelmed with all the information they were expected to learn. Here there were only a few things he needed to master to be able to stay alive.

Junior’s mind drifted back a year earlier when they noticed a large alligator frequenting their fishing waters. It made Rob nervous so he started bringing the rifle for protection. One day the gator started frantically bumping the boat. His tail lashed out of the shallow water then he tried to enter the boat by lunging up with his front feet holding onto the side of the boat. It startled both of them and Rob fell backwards by the shaking of the boat on the waters surface. He reached for the rifle as Junior crawled back to safety away from the side being pulled down by the great beast. Rob lifted the weapon and with hardly aiming at all pulled the trigger. The shot was so close he couldn’t miss. Slowly the feet let go and the massive reptile submerged. They could not tell if he was injured, dead or just playing possum. Junior maneuvered the boat away from where he went under and waited. They couldn’t see at all due to the dark colored water. Then he broke the surface but he was still. Rob fired another shot but this time took aim and shot it in the head. There was no movement. He was dead. They could not lift it into the boat so they tied a rope to it and pulled it back to their floating dock. It was the only gator that Junior was aware his Dad ever killed. He watched his Dad prepare the hide and it came in useful around camp. They were not keen on eating the meat so they cut it up for bait.

Rob, “Come on Son. We have more traps to check.” He noticed Junior in deep thought.

“Sorry Dad.” He glanced toward their island and saw a storm pouring like a water fall from dark clouds situated just over the land.

Dad noticed it as well and said, “Looks like we are going to get a shower today,” laughing out loud

One by one Rob checked each trap and when he got to the end of the line he found some perch and a catfish in the last few traps. He said, “We got dinner, let’s head in.” They emptied the fish they caught into a basket and Junior rowed the boat back toward camp grimacing slightly to get the boat moving.

On the way back the rain clouds moved tangentially away from their position. The storm left an overflow of their bluff pond and it now poured down the straight cliff almost directly into the water below. It was magnificent to see and Junior pointed at it to his Dad who smiled. “That’s the first time we got to see that. Your Mom would love to be here for the view. If water forms a fall like that and nobody is around to witness it, does it really ever happen?” He smiled thinking about the phrase, if a tree falls in the forest does it make a sound if there is no one to hear it.

Junior, “What? We should bring Mom out here the next time it is going to rain.”

“Yeah, that would be great. The pond will have to be near capacity at the time of the rain though or we might never see it. It probably takes a pretty good downpour at the same time.”

Junior approaching camp, “Look what we have, dinner,” he held up a stringer of perch and a catfish to show is Mom.

Cyndi, “Good catch. Will you help me clean them?”

He nodded enthusiastically and told her all about the water fall while they went along the far trail to a place where the water moved by the shore like a river. They waded into the water and cleaned each fish with the remaining debris being carried away swiftly by the current so as not to attract predators near the camp. First Cyndi cut off the heads and slit the belly with her sharp knife. She handed them to Junior who pulled out the guts and did a final rinse.

Three of the fish were cooked directly over the fire as a meal and the remainder went to the smoker Rob built so the food would last longer.

Cyndi handed Junior his new shoes. They all wore leather clothes crafted by her. The style was the same. A short tunic to the waist and at the top exposing the upper arms to dry perspiration. Shorts were cut high on the leg for easy full flexion of the legs and of course the moccasins. There was no stopping the bugs so they didn’t try to cover up. If they wanted peace, they would go inside the tent. Junior being raised around the insects, had a high tolerance to them.

Junior was happy since his current pair were getting tight. He was growing all over but his Mom joked about the growth in his feet especially. They had become to tight width wise as well. His parents still had some of there store bought clothes, shoes and boots but preferred wearing the leather garments. Perhaps it was a matter of conserving the clothing they brought with them or so Junior wouldn’t feel different. He didn’t have any such clothing so he wondered what it would be like and what he would look like if he had some. He saw images in books Grandmom showed him depicting kids his age in contemporary clothing and liked what he saw.

Maybe some day he would venture out to the old world and find out for himself. His desire to row over to the mainland grew everyday but he stayed for now. His desire was very natural for an adolescent boy. Mammal offspring know when they are to go out on their own. But this was a little different. There may not be anything but a death museum awaiting his fantasy. It might crush him. The town nearby likely would be a ghost town. Survivors would have moved looking for resources. Big cities would have incredible supplies but may not be safe to travel to.

When the fish were cooked they sat together at the table and ate.

Junior, “What was it like with cars and trucks? They look like they would be fun to get around in.”

Dad, “They were fun. I loved my pickup truck. I missed having it when I was stationed in Asia. There were trucks there but we mostly traveled in the back. They were troop carriers to get us from point A to point B. It was dangerous when ever we traveled that way because our enemy saw it as a great chance to kill many soldiers with one well delivered shot or with an improvised explosive device. It was not fun.

Mom, “My sedan wasn’t anything special but I loved the freedom it gave me to go places far away from home. It was the truest form of travel freedom. It wasn’t like flying on a jet where you were herded onto and off the plane. You had to sit really close to others and you could not even stand when the pilot said so. You couldn’t stop and get out to stretch or eat. You were stuck until the plane delivered you to the destination gate.”

Junior, “It all sounds so exciting. Almost scary to be flying in a jet. To be able to look down from where you are seated on a plane up in the air. I wonder dad if the people in rural Asia found the same death as others. In the stories you told me it sounded like their soldiers lived remotely away from towns like we do.”

Dad, “I suspect they moved back into the towns after our presence was gone. So I think they suffered the same all over the world at least where modern culture was. This was what every bit of information we heard pointed to anyway. There were native peoples living mostly in heavy jungle areas that remained isolated. They might have survived. They would have already been surviving without modern technology. Speaking of planes. When my Dad and I fished here we would often watch the planes flying over. I haven’t seen one since we came here.” He seemed saddened by what he said.