The Borrowed World Series (Book 7): The Ungovernable by Horton Franklin

Author:Horton, Franklin [Horton, Franklin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Dystopian
Published: 2019-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

19

Hugh’s outpost was the first to be tested. It was almost predictable. He was manning the outpost on the farm road that led to the river crossing, then eventually into town. Hugh insisted on pulling an all-nighter. While most found sentry duty monotonous and painfully boring, it was Hugh’s happy place.

He stood outside the crude outpost, watching the rising sun illuminate the world with golden light. Heavy dew reflected off the low spring grass. Spiderwebs hung damp and heavy from tree branches, weeds, and fence posts. The dew collected on them glowed with brilliant light when the sun caught it. Birds sang and it was a soundtrack that would put a smile on the bitterest man’s face. It was a world coming to life.

Hugh’s mind wandered to how unaffected the world appeared to be by all that was happening. Inevitably, the world belonged to the animals, to nature, to the rivers, and to the sun. They set the pace, and continued on despite the ripples created by men. It was their world and man was merely living in it. Sometimes man borrowed it, mistaking in his naiveté that he had conquered and controlled it, but it was inevitably taken back by those creatures better prepared to inhabit it.

On one of his long shifts at the outpost, sometime last fall, Hugh had dug a pit in the ground so he could build a concealed fire. It was about the size of a five-gallon bucket. The old bushcrafter who’d taught him the technique referred to it as a Dakota fire hole. Though the smell of the wood smoke would carry for long distances, a hole in the ground concealed the flames. A tunnel coming off the side provided air. He kept a stash of tinder and kindling in the outpost so people could build a fire when they needed to warm up or cook. Once Hugh demonstrated it, Jim wished he’d known that trick when he and his friends were walking back from Richmond.

When he had a low fire going he laid a wire shelf from an old refrigerator across the pit, then set a scorched aluminum pot of water atop it. He would toss in some ground coffee, boil it to a strong brew, and drink it straight from the pot. As the coffee cooled, the grounds would settle. While at home he would have strained it through a bandana, he skipped that step in the field.

Hugh had learned a long time ago that when performing long, tedious tasks it was easy to ignore his basic needs. Being uncomfortable on guard duty made extended shifts seem longer and more brutal. One needed to move around, needed to stretch. For Hugh, it meant that he made coffee, cooked a meal when feasible, and drank plenty of water. He’d figured out that a big part of living comfortably with very little was to attend to basic needs and not let himself feel deprived. There were plenty of times suffering was unavoidable. This was not one of those times.

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