Sunrise

I didn’t like his argument at all. It seemed wrong somehow. I’d decided we needed to test the corn on a live volunteer; I should be the one to take the risk. But Ed was adamant. I took the pan off the fire, setting it on the snow behind me to cool. A couple of minutes later, I offered the pan and a spoon to Ed.

He ate all the corn I’d boiled—maybe thirty or forty kernels in total. He said it had an off taste, like wine spoiled by a bad cork. I had no idea what spoiled wine tasted like, so I had to take his word for it.

And then we waited, hoping and praying that Ed would be okay, that the only readily available food we had would prove to be edible, and that we wouldn’t all starve.

We had the answer to our prayers in less than an hour. Ed started vomiting so forcefully that I was surprised not to see his internal organs on the floor.

Chapter 26

I stayed up all night trying to take care of Ed. There wasn’t much I could do for him. I held an old stewpot for him to vomit in. After the first time, he brought up nothing but bile. But despite his empty stomach, he woke from his uneasy slumber about every thirty minutes, retching. I wiped the spittle off his lips and the sweat from his forehead.

A few hours before dawn, I took the stewpot outside to dump it out. There wasn’t much bile in the pot, but it was making the whole igloo smell sour. I scrubbed out the pot with a little snow and stumbled back through the double flap of fabric that served as our front—and only—door.

I tripped over A

“Sorry,” I whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” “It’s okay,” she said, “I was already awake.”

I tried to move away, to get back to Ed, but A

“What are we going to do, Alex? What are we going to eat? I mean, I’m not hungry yet.”

Liar, I thought. We were all hungry. Always.

“But we need to eat something,” A

“A

“Okay.” A

“You too.”

I crouched by Ed’s bedroll the rest of the night, wondering if I’d lied to A

In the morning Ed was weak but at least not getting any worse. He had a low-grade fever, and he was still trying to turn his stomach inside out but less frequently than he had during the night.

Uncle Paul found me by Ed’s bedroll. A huge coughing fit racked Uncle Paul, and he knelt beside us. “You okay?” I asked.

When it subsided he said, “Yes. What’s the plan?”

I knew instantly what he was asking about: food. Hunger has a remarkable way of focusing your attention. “What do you think we should do?”

“Maybe spread out, try different fields. All the corn around the old farm was good two months ago. Maybe there’s some around here that hasn’t molded yet.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Get it organized, would you? I need to stay with Ed.”

“No, sir,” Uncle Paul replied, “you’re not getting off that easily. You’ve been ru

I started to protest—Ed needed care, and I was the one responsible for his sickness. Shouldn’t I be staying to watch out for him? But we all needed food. I felt like taffy on one of those stretching machines at the state fair, but the machine was spi

I reached across Ed to my own bedroll and picked up the semi-automatic rifle I had been carrying. The selector lever was on “safe”, but I still carefully kept the muzzle pointed straight up. I passed it to Uncle Paul. He was a maniac about gun safety If you made a mistake—pointing the gun at something you didn’t intend to kill, for example, even if the gun was unloaded, even if the safety was on, even if it was only an accidental wave of the hand holding the gun—then you would have to practice the motion you had screwed up a hundred times, passing the gun back and forth as you counted out loud.

“Fire once if you need help. If you fire more than once, everyone will come at a dead run.”

Uncle Paul nodded, took the gun from me, touched the safety lever, and checked the chamber. “Got it.”

I left the igloo to get a corn-digging expedition organized. Alyssa approached me as soon as I was outside. She leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “Thanks for the chunk of roasted goat. I gave half of it to Ben.”

That didn’t make any sense. “We’re out of goat meat.” “You put the last piece under my pillow.”

“It wasn’t me.” I called everyone together to get them organized for a day of scavenging.

I split us into three teams of two, sending each team to a different field. The plan was to dig up three ears of corn, check them for mold and then if they were moldy, move to a spot at least a hundred feet farther from the igloo and try again. Every team had a shovel, a garden hoe, and a gun. I gave the other assault rifle to Darla, our hunting rifle to Alyssa, and a revolver we’d taken from the Reds to Max. The shovels and hoes all had crude, improvised handles—the original handles had burned—but they were a lot better than digging with our hands.

We spent all day outside digging. Each of the three teams returned with the same cargo: twenty-four ears of moldy corn.

Chapter 27

The only good news? Ed had quit vomiting. I boiled a few leftover scraps of goat fat in water and held the bowl to his lips while he sipped the resulting broth. The rest of us went to bed hungry.

The next morning I called everyone together in the greenhouse. The tank in the greenhouse was warm! It had begun to thaw the frozen dirt around it, and the air in the greenhouse was noticeably warmer than in the igloo. It wasn’t yet warm enough for plants—I could still see my breath in the air—but the progress was hugely encouraging.

“We can’t keep putting all our eggs in one basket,” I said.

“I’d kill my brother for an egg,” Alyssa muttered.

“I do not have an egg,” Ben said.

“We’re all hungry,” Darla snapped.

“Let me finish, please,” I said as calmly as I could. “Maybe we’ll find corn that’s edible, or maybe we won’t, but whatever happens, we’ve only got another three or four days before the lack of food starts to seriously affect our ability to work.” There were nods all around. Max looked scared, but A

“Darla said she learned about fire building in your old Boy Scout handbook, Max. Did you pack that?”

“Yeah . . .” Max said. “I’m not sure exactly where it is, though.”

“Find it. See if there’s anything in there that’ll help. Something we can eat.”

“I’m about hungry enough to eat paper,” Alyssa said.

Both Darla and I glared her to silence.

“Help Max out if you feel up to it, Ed,” I said.

“I’m okay today,” Ed said. “Little shaky is all.”

“We’ll send out two digging teams,” I said. “Alyssa and Ben, and Uncle Paul and A

“Got it,” Uncle Paul said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a coughing fit.

“You sure you’re okay to go dig?”

“I’m fine.” He practically growled his answer.

“Darla and I are going to take half our seed stock and head into Warren to try to trade.”