Poem: "Rainshadow Road"

This poem was written outside the regular prompt calls, inspired by discussions with Anonymous on Dreamwidth. It fills the "Rainshadow Road" square in my 2-1-21 "Romance Book Titles" card for the Valentines Bingo fest. It belongs to the Daughters of the Apocalypse series.

This microfunded poem is being posted one verse at a time, as donations come in to cover them. The rate is $0.25/line, so $5 will reveal 20 new lines, and so forth. There is a permanent donation button on my profile page, or you can contact me for other arrangements. You can also ask me about the number of lines per verse, if you want to fund a certain number of verses.
So far sponsors include: DW user Freshbakedlady, DW user Nsfwords, general fund, DW user Fuzzyred, janetmiles,

FULLY FUNDED
1288 lines, Buy It Now = $322
Amount donated = $289
Verses posted = 311 of 339 
Amount remaining to fund fully = $23
Amount needed to fund next verse = $0.75
Amount needed to fund the verse after that = $0.75

Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes the Aftermath of apocalypse, reference to wildfires and town collapse, road disrepair, accidental self-poisoning, messy medical details, low-tech medicine, semi-literacy, needing help and hating it, reference to the Grunge and its casualties, severe gender imbalance and age imbalance, plus their social impacts, past refugees, group marriage, food shortage, slow healing, difficult survival decisions, supply shortage, fraught discussion of transferring someone from the armey to the caravan, emotional agony, feeling abandoned, group misery, difficult goodbyes, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.

[Cold Moon 2, 15 A.E.]

Catcher kept her eyes on
the flat road ahead, just in case
it suddenly stopped being flat.

The Clearwater caravan was rolling
along Little Shadow Road, whose
battered signs still read 395, toward
Rainshadow Road, the old I-90.

Little Shadow road was
even more battered than
its signs, and parts of it
were getting hard to pass.

The small town of Mesa had
survived but now called itself
End Table. It had taken in
survivors from other places and
was making a concerted effort
to keep Little Shadow Road open.

Another small town, Lind, had
shrunk in population and was
struggling to survive, bolstered
only by its large solar farm.

They were the two largest
surviving settlements on
this road, Connell having
fallen apart before the End
due to raging wildfires.

Catcher hoped that they
could keep this road open,
because it was the main link
between Rainshadow Road and
Southshadow Road, the old I-82.

Without Little Shadow Road,
it would be a long-ass drive
from Poorland to Spokes,
an important trade route.

The problem was, they
couldn't keep all the roads
left over from Before -- they
could barely even maintain
the most critical ones.

Every year, the plants
nibbled away at the edges
while water freezing and
thawing dug the chuckholes
even deeper down the middle.

Wheeler, driving the first housetruck
of the Clearwater caravan, had to find
a safe route for the others to follow.

In the second housetruck, Catcher
watched her to avoid hazards
that could strand them all
in this harsh environment.

Down by Poorland it was dry
and sandy with sparse grasses
dotted by a few winterfat shrubs
and the occasional sagebrush.

End Table was on the border
between that and the grassland,
while Lind had a lot more sagebrush
and all the way up in Spokes they
had mostly Ponderosa pine.

Catcher had spent enough time
driving around Cadia territory
to be familiar with most of it, and
recently they had spent a lot of
time here in the state of Walla
or farther south in Lincoln.

In winter it was bitter cold with
a few wisps of snow blowing
over the land, which could settle
in the hollows, so they had to watch
the road for treacherous patches of ice.

As the caravan crested a hill, Catcher
saw a few pops of color by the road
up ahead, one red and some blue.

Closing in, she could make out
the rounded humps of tents,
mostly brown or dull green,
blending into the landscape.

Catcher tensed a little bit --
they must be armey tents,
because the rare tobeys who
raided the highways drove
wartrucks, while the armeys
tended to be more reasonable,
but with strangers you never knew.

Then people popped out of the tents,
hurrying toward the road and waving
empty hands to attract attention.

Sure enough, Wheeler put on
the hazard lights and pulled over.

In the Aftermath, sacred hospitality
had revived as a survival need; with
so few people left and hardships
whittling away the population, they
couldn't afford any avoidable losses.

When things went wrong -- which
happened a lot -- then people had
to help each other, or they died.

Catcher turned on her hazard lights
and pulled over behind Wheeler.
In the mirror, she could see
the other two housetrucks
stopping to park as well.

A young man wearing
a battered brown jacket
jogged up to the first truck
and talked with Wheeler
through the window.
Then he hurried to
the second truck.

Catcher rolled down
her window for him.

"I'm Fivestar, leader of
the Fairchildren armey,"
he said. "We've got a man
down. My brother is sick
and needs help. Wheeler
told me that you're a medic."

"I'm Catcher, a midwife," she said,
and watched his face fall. "I know
some other healing too, though,
herbs and such. I'll do what I can."

"Thank you," said Fivestar. "I'll
show you to the women's tent."

That turned out to be the one
with the red fly stretched over
a black-and-white body.

Inside was a girl who couldn't
have been more than sixteen, with
toasty skin and wild brown curls.

She leaned over a boy who
looked even younger. Sweat
beaded on his tawny skin as he
groaned and clutched his stomach.

Well, that sure didn't look good.

"Cherry, this is Catcher, she's
here to help," said Fivestar.

"Oh, good!" Cherry exclaimed,
wringing her hands. "I'm only
trained for bustups yet -- they
weren't supposed to get sick!"

"Anyone can get sick," Catcher said.
"Can you tell me what happened?"

"He ate something that's not good
for him," Cherry said. "There's
so little food now, he must have
snuck off and tried ... something."

The poor kid didn't look talkative,
so Catcher would have to guess.

It was probably either a plant
or carrion, so the problem was
toxic rather than corrosive.

"All right, give me a hand
looking him over," said Catcher.

The boy was barely responsive,
his protests feeble enough to make
Fivestar look more worried than ever
behind a fringe of shaggy brown hair.

"Come on, Maggot, we found
a medic," Fivestar pleaded.
"Don't crap out on us now."

Maggot was sweaty and
shaking, clearly in pain, but
his breathing sounded clear and
his pulse was fast but strong.

"I think he's got a chance,
if we can get the poison out
of him and help his body
hang on," said Catcher.

So they set about
the unpleasant process
of making Maggot throw up
whatever he had eaten.

Catcher was hoping for
more clues, but nothing
came up except for bile
and unidentifiable bits
of some plant, probably.

Once they got Maggot
settled back on his mat,
Fivestar excused himself.

Catcher couldn't blame him;
healing was messy business.

At least Cherry wasn't squeamish,
and more confident now that
she had someone to follow.

They got Maggot cleaned up,
and then Catcher poured enough
charcoal into him to turn his shit black.

Hopefully that would bind the poison
so it wouldn't kill him. Once that
came through, she could give him
herbs to help his liver and kidneys
throw off the residue without
breaking down in the process.

"What now?" Cherry said,
turning wide eyes on Catcher.

"Now we wait," Catcher said.
"Keep him clean and warm,
as comfortable as possible.
Give him as much water as
he'll drink -- that will help
wash out the poison."

They managed to keep
Maggot watered, although
he threw up almost as
much as he drank.

Then his body decided
that diarrhea was a good way
to get rid of poison -- which
it could be -- and made him
even more miserable.

At least the housetrucks
had full water tanks, so
they wouldn't run out.

Catcher dosed him with
ginger tea for the nausea
and milk thistle to help
his liver and kidneys.

"Can you teach me?"
Cherry asked as she
watched Catcher brew
another pot of ginger tea.
"I don't know much about
how to treat poisons."

"Sure," said Catcher.
"The more you know,
the better. Let's see,
there's a few more herbs
that can detox the body."

"Anything we might actually
get around here?" Cherry said.

"Well, marshmallow root can be
dried and traded, but it grows wild
over much of the west," said Catcher.
"Look for it in damp sandy soil -- it
forms clumps along creeks or ponds."

"There's no water right around here,
but plenty in our range," said Cherry.

"Sweet tea vine, or gynostemma,
is popular in Chinese medicine,"
said Catcher. "I just buy mine.
Parsley is easy to get in summer,
but not in winter, and when dried
it doesn't have as much strength."

"Okay, thinking about what you
already used, milk thistle grows
everywhere, and ginger isn't
very hard to find but it's not
cheap either," Cherry said.

"I can trade you some of
my ginger," said Catcher.
"It helps with all kinds of
digestive issues as well as
detox, and it's also among
the best warming spices for
treating hypothermia."

They went on like that
for a while, talking about
herbs and how to use
them for healing people.

Cherry was literate enough
to take notes, although she
drew pictures as well as
writing out the words.

Catcher would help her
expand her first aid kit a bit,
in hopes of keeping more
of the armeys alive.

Both of them stayed up
all night with poor Maggot,
trading off with each other
so they could catch catnaps
without leaving him unwatched.

By morning, Maggot had finally
settled into a more natural sleep,
and Cherry's tentmate Bohica had
come in after sleeping with Fivestar.

Bohica was tall and slim where
Cherry was petite, and she
was several years older.

"You two get some real sleep,"
said Bohica. "I can sit here with
Maggot as long as he just needs
someone to keep an eye on him."

"Thank you," said Catcher,
although she didn't relish
walking back to her truck.

"You can borrow my bunk,
I'm not using it," Bohica said,
pointing to her camp cot.

"I'll take it," Catcher said,
and burrowed into the blankets.

When she woke, the half-light
of winter afternoon told her
that she'd slept for hours.

She went out to pee,
ignoring the looks from
the armeys around her,
then went back inside.

"How's Maggot doing?"
Catcher asked Bohica.

"He hasn't thrown up since
I got here this morning, and he's
awake enough to talk some,"
said Bohica. "He hasn't even
tried to get out of the bed,
though, which worries me."

"Let me take a look at him,
and then I will see about
making him something for
breakfast," said Catcher.

Maggot grumbled a bit
when she poked at him,
and yelped when she
pressed on his belly, but
he wasn't actively dying as
far as Catcher could tell.

"We have root vegetables
in our storage compartments,"
Catcher said. "I'll make
beet soup. That's easy
to digest and should help
his liver and kidneys."

"Beets? Really?"
Cherry said, rubbing
her eyes as she woke up.

"Yes, they support health
in a lot of ways," said Catcher.
"I'll show you how to make
the soup if you want to learn."

"Teach me," Cherry said.

When they went outside,
Catcher saw that Alma --
the caravan's elder -- had
already made a big cauldron
of soup to feed the armey.

"Tell me we have beets
left over," Catcher said.

"Plenty of them," said Alma.
"What else do you need?"

"Carrots, onions, and
some kind of broth,"
Catcher said. "Garlic
would help as well."

"Let's see what we
can do," Alma said
as she stood up.

Cherry tagged along
to see what they had,
and helped them carry
the different vegetables.

Catcher grated them
so they'd cook faster,
then mashed everything
together into red slurry.

Maggot was hungry enough
to eat anything, so he didn't
complain about the earthy taste.

He couldn't hold his hands steady,
though, which was another worry.

Catcher had to feed him, and
the boy blushed dark peach,
clearly humiliated by needing
that kind of care at his age.

As soon as he finished
the soup, he rolled over
and went back to sleep.

Catcher went outside
to check on the armey.

Once again, everyone
looked up as soon as she
came out of the tent, and
Fivestar trotted over.

"How's Maggot doing?"
the leader asked.

"He's alive and starting
to improve," Catcher said.

Fivestar grinned in relief.
"Good, good," he said.
"Come eat lunch with us."

There was a pheasant
roasting over a small fire,
and someone else had
a pair of rabbits that Alma
was cutting up for stew.

"Thank you," Catcher said.
"Lunch sounds wonderful."

She had eaten a bit of
the beet soup, but left
most of that for Maggot.

"Can Maggot eat meat
now?" Fivestar said as he
leaned over the pheasant.

"Not yet," Catcher said.
"I'm giving him beet soup
to help clear out the residue
of whatever toxins he ate."

"We'll trade for the food,
as well as your care,"
Fivestar said. He used
a huge knife to hack off
a quarter of the pheasant,
which he handed to her.

"Thank you," Catcher said
as she accepted the offering.

She hadn't missed the fact
that the roasting bird was
divided among the top ranks,
while the stew stretched out
meager food to fill everyone.

The armey had to make sure
that its best hunters and fighters
could take care of everyone.

They sent a wing over to
Wheeler, too. Mechanics,
like medics, were valued
highly in the Aftermath.

Just as Catcher was
looking after Maggot,
Wheeler would check
the armey's equipment
and fix anything she could.

The pheasant tasted good,
rich and smoky, and soon
Catcher licked the last
of it from her fingers.

"I'm giving Cherry lessons
in herbal medicine and
sick care while we wait for
Maggot to recover," she said.

"That's good," said Fivestar.
"We picked her up less than
a year ago, but she's learning
fast -- already handles bustups."

"I'm also sharing my supplies,
what she learns to use, like
the ginger," said Catcher.

"That'll help," said Fivestar.
"We can trade for it, if you
have a use for war goods."

"Or feathers," said another man.
"I'm Sharp, our shooter. We save
all the bird feathers. They're good
for fletching arrows, stuffing pillows
or coats, and tying flies in summer."

"That we can use," Catcher said.
"They're light and they pack down
well, so they're easy to carry."

"Bohica's our muckamuck,
when you're ready to talk
trade," said Fivestar.

"Tell her to talk to Alma,"
said Catcher. "She is
our leader and knows
the most about supplies."

"You're so lucky to have
an elder," Fivestar said softly.

"We know," Catcher said.
"She found me and Stitcher
at the End, but all her kids and
other grandkids died of the Grunge."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Fivestar.
"Our boys here are all that's left of
the Fairchild Air Force Base. We
added the women not long ago."

"Yeah, it was hard," said Catcher.
"Then we picked up Forager, Cleaner,
Digger, and Wheeler on the way out.
Hunter's a more recent addition."

Fivestar chuckled. "It shows.
Hunter spent the night with Sharp."

"She's good company, grew up
in a girl armey," Sharp said.

There were a lot more girls
than boys among survivors;
something about the Grunge
had targeted males more than
females, adults more than children.

From the looks of the armey, they
had gotten by with teens raising
children in the absence of adults.

"Hunter wanted to join a caravan
for faster travel, and we welcomed
someone with better skills than ours
for hunting and fighting," said Catcher.
"It works out well for everyone."

"Armey life is good, but hard,"
Sharp agreed with a nod.

Fivestar looked worried again.
"Maggot really will recover?"

"There are no guarantees,
but I believe so," Catcher said.
"Most people who die of poison
don't get better before they do."

"He's our baby brother," Sharp said,
"so we're pretty protective of him."

"You're all brothers?" Catcher said.
That was uncommon -- most armeys
were made of unrelated survivors.

"Cap and Lou had the same parents,"
Sharp said, pointing at a pair of men.
"So did a few others, but most of us
are brothers by choice now."

"Maggot is the youngest
of the ones who survived.
He was just a baby at the End,"
said Fivestar. "I'm the oldest."

"That sounds hard," Catcher said.
"At least we had Alma to help us."

"There was a boys' camp outside
the base. We were out there when
the bombs fell," Fivestar said, looking
down. "We saw it happen, but we
were out of range ourselves."

"We were in the city," Catcher said.
"Alma made us hike out. She'd done
that before, back in Syria, but we
were too young to remember it."

"Refugees make good survivors,"
Fivestar said. "The counselors and
some of the oldest teens went back to
our base and looked for anyone left.
Most of them died there, but a few
made it back with the little ones.
There were a couple of girls then,
toddlers, but they didn't last long."

"We lost people because we couldn't
find enough food, or milk for the babies,"
Sharp said. "Maggot was the only one of
the infants who survived -- that kid would
eat anything. Snuffy is the next-youngest
and he was three years old at the end."

Everyone in the Aftermath had sad stories
to tell, but Catcher knew what they were
doing -- trying to show her how much
Maggot meant to the rest of them.

"Alma found some goats," said Catcher.
"When she was a little girl back in Syria,
her family raised goats, so she knew
how to take care of them. They gave
us milk and meat, and when the herd
got big enough, we traded the goats
for the first of our housetrucks."

"A good deal," Fivestar said.
"Alma sounds like a wise woman."

"She really is," Catcher said, then
leaned forward to pat his shoulder.
"We'll get through this. I'll go
check on Maggot again."

When she got back to
the women's tent, she
found Cherry studying
her herbalism notes and
Bohica carving a spoon
from a small piece of wood.

Maggot was sitting up, or
at least leaning against
a pile of supplies, as he
ate a small bowl of soup.

"I'm Catcher," she said. "I
have been taking care of you."

"Maggot," he said. "Thanks."

Catcher checked his health
again, which seemed about
the same as earlier today.

She spent the rest of the day
teaching Cherry about herbs,
and sometimes learning from
Cherry about treating bustups.

The latter went so well that
Catcher went to find Stitcher,
who was delighted to learn
more about sewing people up.

Catcher was their main medic,
but Stitcher was her backup in
addition to being a seamstress.

That evening, Bohica came to her
and said, "I'm spending the night
with Sharp. Cherry wants to know
if you're staying with Maggot so
she can pick a man, or if you're
sleeping in the truck, then
she'll stay here to tend him."

"I thought you were with
Fivestar?" said Catcher.

"That was last night,"
Bohica said. "Cherry
and I are armey wives,
it's more of a group thing."

"Oh, okay," Catcher said.
She had seen all kinds of
different relationships while
traveling. With so few males,
couples had become rarer, and
people had to get more creative.
"I'll take care of Maggot, then.
Tell Cherry she can go out."

Cherry was happy to hear
the news. "I'm taking Snuffy
tonight," she said. "He's cold
and lonely with Maggot in here."

"They're together?" Catcher said,
surprised. Another relationship that
was less common was two men
together, because most places
didn't have enough for it anymore.

"Snuffy and Maggot are tentmates,"
said Cherry. "Most of the guys sleep
in smaller tents, two and their gear
plus a dog or two for extra heat."

"So with only one person, it gets
too cold," Catcher said. "Well,
have fun with Snuffy tonight."

The women's tent was bigger,
but all the baggage took up
space, leaving less air that
needed heating by their bodies.

After a last pot of ginger tea,
Catcher and Maggot curled up
under piles of warm blankets.

"If you feel worse in the night,
wake me up, that's what I'm
here for," Catcher told him.

"M'fine," Maggot said in
his thick Afta accent.
"Lemme sleep now."

"All right," Catcher said,
and left the boy alone.

She slept well enough
that night, even with
the air frosty around her.

In the morning, sunlight
slanted through tent walls
that sparkled with ice crystals.

Catcher got up and then
checked on Maggot again.

"Lemme up, I gotta pee,"
he said, pushing her away.

"Okay, it's been long enough
for you to get up," she agreed.

But he couldn't actually do it.

When Maggot tried to stand,
he floundered around but
his limbs wouldn't hold him.

"Enough, stop, lie back down,"
Catcher said. "You're still
too sick to get out of bed.
I'll bring you the bottle."

Maggot's hands were
shaking so bad that he
couldn't even hold his dick
in the hole, so Catcher
had to do that for him.

The boy was flushed and
swearing with embarrassment
by the time he was finished.

Bohica and Cherry came home,
smiling and talking about the night.

The women helped Catcher
make another pot of beet soup.
Hopefully it would help Maggot
regain more of his energy.

After breakfast, Catcher
went outside where she was
promptly caught by Fivestar.

"Is Maggot healed now?"
said Fivestar. "Is he
ready to move on?"

"Not even close,"
Catcher said. "He
can't get out of bed."

Fivestar frowned in worry.
"What happened? You
said he was getting better."

"His muscle tone is shot to hell,"
Catcher said. "That's not good.
He's doing better than before,
and I'm pretty sure that he'll
recover, but it'll take a while."

"Shit," Fivestar said. "Well ...
we can make it another day."

He looked toward a campfire,
and Catcher followed his gaze.

Alma was bent over a rock,
carefully grinding up the bones
from yesterday's birds to mix
in with the soup for today.

That would add both flavor
and nutrients, thickening
the thin soup into something
that would feed them better.

"I'll bring some books from
my housetruck," said Catcher.
"No sense wasting time; I can
give Cherry more lessons."

"Thank you," said Fivestar.
"I'm sure Cherry will like that."

"I've got some craft books
I could share," Forager said
as she came over. "I heard
that Bohica likes crafts too."

"Yeah, she's our muckamuck,
keeps track of supplies and
makes things," said Fivestar.

"So that's us busy for the day,
when I'm not watching Maggot,"
Catcher said with a nod.

"Is Maggot awake or still
sleeping it off?" said Fivestar.

"He's more awake today than
he was yesterday," said Catcher.

"Good," said Fivestar. "I'll come give
him a reading lesson. He won't like it,
but he doesn't get to laze around."

"Maggot may read until he gets
tired, but he still needs more rest
than usual," Catcher warned.

"You tell us when, and we'll obey,"
Fivestar said. "Medics give
orders in the sick tent."

"Okay," Catcher said,
and went to get her books.

Cherry was fascinated by
the illustrations of pregnancy
and childbirth, all the more so
when Catcher described
giving birth to Dibble.

"I thought the girl was
Digger's," said Cherry.

"No, Dibble came out of
my body," said Catcher.
"She wants to learn how
to find and grow food,
though, so she follows
Digger more than me."

"That makes sense,"
said Bohica. "Everyone
finds their own skills."

Maggot grumbled his way
through the reading lessons,
which he was bad at, but he
didn't dare argue with Fivestar.

Catcher made everyone stop
for lunch, and this time brought
bowls of bone soup from outside.

After that, she insisted that Maggot
take a nap, and he finally balked.

"I ain't sleepy!" he protested.
"I don't need a nap like a baby."

"When you can walk without
wearing yourself out, then you
can stop napping," Catcher said.
"Until then, you do need the sleep."

Maggot looked away. He'd tried
and failed to stand up three times
today, and that was crushing.

In the afternoon, Bohica
and Forager took over
teaching about crafts.

It was useful to learn
how to make things.

When Maggot woke up
from his nap, Bohica
went out for a walk.

She came back with
Snuffy and his dog Buster,
who jumped on Maggot.

"Aight, aight, don't lick me
to death," Maggot said,
trying and mostly failing
to push the dog away.

Snuffy came to his rescue.
"Hey, bruh, we missed you."

They kept Maggot company
for a while, which helped.

Catcher left Maggot
with his friends and
Cherry to watch him.

Outside, the preparations
for supper were beginning.

Sharp had a quail; Cap and Lou
had brought back a few doves.

"We shot everything we saw,"
Sharp said. "There just isn't
much food around here."

"That's not good,"
Fivestar said as he
shook his head.

"We do have food
to share," Alma said.

"Not forever," said Fivestar,
and everyone knew that
he was right about it.

They sat around the fires
and shared a quiet supper.

The soup used other vegetables
since they saved the beets in
hopes of helping Maggot heal.

Cherry volunteered to stay
with Maggot that night, so
Catcher returned to her truck.

She slept better there; it was
warmer with a thicker mattress.

In the morning, she went
back to the women's tent
to check on Maggot again.

He seemed to be doing
a little better, so Catcher
let him try standing up.

The boy made it all of
three wobbly steps before
his knees buckled and
Cherry had to catch him.

Catcher took his other side,
feeling how he shook from
exhaustion and the effort of
not sobbing in front of them.

They lowered him back
onto the mat and left him
to rest while Catcher made
ginger tea for breakfast.

After that, she reported
to a glum Fivestar. "Maggot
made it to his feet today."

Instead of cheering up at
what should have been
good news, Fivestar
looked even grimmer.

"What's wrong?" she said.

"Hunting parties came back
empty-handed," Fivestar said.
"There's no food left within
half a day's march of here."

"Life is hard in winter,"
Catcher said. "What
are you even doing
this far north so late?"

Fivestar sighed. "Delays,
difficulties, everything has
gone wrong for months.
Normally we'd be down
in Wallaby by now. That's
a good place to winter, they
build turf houses down there."

"Sounds nice," Catcher said.

"It has been," Fivestar said.
"We may have to settle
for Poorland this year."

"At least they have plenty
of solar power," Catcher said.

"If we can get there," said Fivestar.
"I need to know about Maggot."

"Like I said, he made it to his feet
today, and took a few steps before
his legs gave out," Catcher replied.
"I'm concerned that the poison
damaged his muscles -- he's not
acting like he's just tired, there's
overall weakness and shakes."

"Is it permanent damage?"
Fivestar said sharply.

"I don't think so,"
Catcher said. "He's
not flinching anymore
when I press on his guts,
and he's making progress, it
just looks like a slow process."

"How long until he's fully recovered,
enough to carry a pack and keep up
in a march?" Fivestar asked her.

"I don't know," Catcher said.

"Then estimate," said Fivestar.
"We need to know that in order
to decide what to do next."

Catcher sighed. "A month,
maybe?" she said. "Longer
if he can't get enough rest."

"Too long," Fivestar said,
shaking his head. "Dammit."

"All right, what are your options?"
Catcher said. "Maybe we can help."

"Nothing good," said Fivestar.
"If we stay here, we'll all starve."

"So that's out," Catcher said.
"We need a plan that can
keep everyone alive."

"If we leave someone here
with Maggot, and move the rest
of the armey south, they wouldn't
have good chances," Fivestar said.

"No, Maggot will need care for
a while," Catcher said. "Besides,
you're right about the lack of food.
I think he's losing weight, and
he doesn't have it to spare."

"None of us have it to spare,"
Fivestar said. "I won't just
abandon him." He fingered
the long knife at his waist.
"I'd rather kill him myself.
At least that'd be quicker."

Catcher could see his heart
breaking in his eyes. "No,"
she said firmly. "Nobody dies."

"I don't want to kill him, but we
don't have good options here,"
Fivestar said. Then he looked
toward the caravan. "You've
got four housetrucks. That's
a lot of room. How many
spare tires do you have?"

"Not enough to carry
the whole armey even if
you abandoned your gear,"
Catcher said sadly. "We'd
have to ditch our cargo too,
and if we got stranded ..."

"Probably none of us would
make it," Fivestar said.

In the early years After,
it had been easy to get tires
from abandoned vehicles
scattered all over the place.

Now it was harder to find ones to fit
what you drove. They didn't last
as long, and popped under stress.

Everyone had to carry spares,
and hope that when those ran out,
replacements could be found.

There were even mechanics
mounting different wheels on
vehicles just so they'd match
whatever tires were available.

Even that wouldn't last forever,
and Catcher didn't know what
they'd do when the tires could
no longer be replaced at all.

"I'm sorry we couldn't be
of more help," Catcher said,
pushing away the dark thoughts.

"Where is your caravan headed?"
Fivestar asked. "Maybe that
will shake loose some ideas."

"Up to Spokes with a load of
electronic motors and solar panels
for the mechanics to splice onto
bicycles," Catcher replied. "It
would be more use to Maggot if
we were going to Lazarus Lake --
a real doctor might help more."

A spark of hope lit in Fivestar's eyes.
"Could you go to Lazarus Lake?"

"I don't know, maybe," said Catcher.
"You'd have to ask Alma and Wheeler.
I suppose it might be possible to take
Maggot to Lazarus Lake and then
wait for you to meet him there."

Fivestar shook his head. "It's
too far in the wrong direction,
and winter travel can be deadly."

Catcher knew that. She'd seen
the results, more than once.
But they had to try something.

"Well, there's Lind --" she began.

"Too small," said Fivestar.
"We tried staying there once,
just for a layover, and the muneys
got antsy in less than a week."

Most of the surviving communes
were small, no more than a few dozen
or a few hundred people, spread out
so they didn't overstrain local supplies
of food, water, and other necessities.

They couldn't take in many new people
without collapsing under the strain.

"Spokes is a little bigger, but also
a lot farther away, and I'm not sure
even they could absorb a whole armey
at this time of year," Catcher said.
"We're safe because we travel."

Suddenly Fivestar's head came up.
"Would you --" His voice cracked. He
swallowed hard in the cold dry air,
and then tried again. "Would
you consider a hitch?"

Catcher sat back. She
hadn't even thought of that.

A hitch wasn't just taking care
of someone for a short time.

It would mean adding Maggot
to the caravan permanently,
taking responsibility for him.

"I can't decide that," she admitted.
"You would have to ask Alma."

"Take me to her," Fivestar said.

"All right," Catcher said, and
offered him her hand for comfort.

Fivestar took it, and she led
him over to Alma's campfire.

It turned out that Dibble
had pulled a miracle out of
the frozen ground: handfuls
of wild onion bulbs, enough
to stretch out their supplies.

"Your girl's got sharp eyes,"
Digger said proudly.

"That's because you're
teaching her," Catcher said,
and then turned to Alma.

"What's happening?"
Alma asked her.

Catcher summarized
Maggot's slow recovery,
then urged Fivestar forward.
"He asked me about a hitch."

"We can pay a dowry,"
Fivestar said. "We have
guns, bullets -- he wouldn't
be a burden, I swear it!"

"What if Maggot never
recovers?" Alma said.

"I don't think that's likely,"
Catcher said. "He's getting
better, it's just too slow, and
it'll be slower still if he can't
get enough rest and food.
Even if -- well, Wheeler
sure makes herself useful."

"All right, next question:
do we have the room?"
Alma said. "Someone
would have to take him."

Someone meaning Catcher,
because she was the only one
driving a housetruck by herself.

Wheeler and Cleaner shared
the first housetruck, and they
were a couple so they wouldn't
want to split or take an extra.

Catcher had the second one.
She'd tried to share with Hunter,
but they rubbed each other wrong,
so that hadn't lasted for long.

Digger, Dibble, and Forager
were a nice tight group.

Alma and Stitcher had
taken Hunter with them
in the fourth housetruck.

Other people were drifting
closer now, taking an interest
in the growing conversation.

Catcher felt them watching.

Maggot was whiny and
balky, but if that's what
it took to keep him alive,
then Catcher would do it.

"My housetruck has a couch,"
she said. "He might fit on it,
or we could put the cushions
on the floor for sleeping."

"He's slept rough before,
he doesn't need a real bed,"
Fivestar said desperately.

"He does while he's healing,
or he won't recover as fast,"
Catcher said. "I have room."

"Then we need to consider
Maggot's skills," said Alma.
"What can he do? What
education does he have?"

"Basic training, he's still
too young to enlist yet,"
said Fivestar. "He can
march, carry a backpack,
handle pack dogs, hunt,
fish, and set up camp."

"We could certainly use
another hunter," Alma said.

"Expect him to need a month
before he can pull his own weight,"
Catcher warned. "Fivestar and I
talked about Lazarus Lake."

"That's the wrong direction
for our goods," Alma said.

"How wrong?" Catcher said.
"How much would we lose?"

Alma thought, then said, "We
wouldn't make as much as we'd
hoped, but we wouldn't lose on it."

"We can pay his way," Fivestar said,
beckoning to Sharp, who stepped in.
"Sharp, what could we spare in
guns and ammo for a dowry?"

"Well, we have a couple of
hunting rifles with bullets
that we got in trade, but we
don't use them because they
don't match our main arsenal,"
Sharp said. "They're still good."

That was a high opening bid,
assuming the guns worked.

Alma turned to Hunter.
"What do you think?"

"I think I want to shoot
both guns," said Hunter.
"How many bullets?"

"Two big cases,"
Sharp said. "That's
a lot of game, if
your aim's good."

"If we had game,
then I'd show you,"
Hunter said. "We'll
make do with targets."

"Suppose we take Maggot
off your hands," said Alma.
"Would that be enough to put
the rest of you back on track?"

"Maybe." Fivestar looked lost.
"I hope so ... we'd have a chance."

"I've got an idea," Catcher said.
"We could give you more food,
and you trade as much ammo as
you can possibly spare. You'd
have plenty for the march, it'd get
lighter as you went along, and you
could sell any leftovers in Poorland."

"Bullets won't trade well at Lazarus Lake,"
Alma said. "That's no good for us."

"No, but meat will, and the lake
makes for good hunting there,
right Hunter?" said Catcher.

Hunter perked up. "That's right,"
she said. "They always need meat
because of the hospital and hotel."

"A fair point," said Alma. "That
could work. I need to think --"

"Please," Fivestar said. "Please,
he's our baby brother, he's the last
of the littlest, we can't let him die.
If you need a bigger dowry,
we'll spare it ... somehow."

"I'm not a thief, young man,"
said Alma. Then she softened.
"And I'm no flesh smuggler, either,
to hold out for a family's fortune
when they've no other option.
All right, we'll hitch Maggot
if Hunter approves the guns."

"Thank you," Fivestar said,
sagging in relief. "Thank you."

"Now you just need to tell
your boy that you bought
him a hitch," Alma said.

"I'll sit out here," Catcher said.
"Let me know when he's ready
to load into the housetruck."

She wanted no part of
the awful conversation.

Sharp and Hunter went off
to test the offered guns.

Catcher could hear
the crisp crack ... crack!
as they fired at targets.

Hunter came back grinning.
"These things are fantastic!"
she said. "Both of them are
long-range hunting rifles
with high-power scopes,
better than what I have."

"Go tell Maggot that he
has a hitch," Alma said.

"Thank you," Fivestar said,
then went to the women's tent.

For a while it was quiet, then
Maggot's outraged wail
split the winter air.

Everyone shuffled
and looked away
from each other.

The armeys all
looked miserable.

Catcher leaned closer
to her family, grateful
that she still had them.

Finally Fivestar came out
of the tent and beckoned.

Catcher trotted over to him.

"Snuffy will bring Maggot's pack
and other personal gear over to
your housetruck," said Fivestar.
"I'll help you move Maggot. We'll
break camp after we've eaten."

The smell of onion soup floated
on the wind, making them hungrier.

"All right," Catcher said. "I'll help
Alma and Bohica exchange goods."

She had a few medical supplies
to hand off to Cherry as well.

The exchange was intense,
everyone's emotions riding high,
but they got through it without
any major disagreements.

The onion soup was
stretched out with carrots,
and better than nothing.

What mattered was that
the armey would have enough
to reach a wintering place, and
the caravan could get more food
when they reached Lazarus Lake.

Maggot was still so wobbly on
his feet that Catcher and Fivestar
had to prop him up on either side,
but he marched to the housetruck
with his head held stubbornly high.

Snuffy met them at the housetruck
and stowed Maggot's equipment.

Buster banged his wagging tail
against everyone's legs, not
understanding the departure.

Catcher let Maggot down on
his knees so he could say
goodbye to the dog.

Buster licked his face,
so at least Maggot
would have an excuse
for his wet cheeks.

"Latez, bruh," Snuffy said
as he pulled the dog away.

"Fosho," Maggot said
without looking at him.

When he tried to stand,
though, his legs wouldn't
hold his weight again.

"I've got him," Fivestar said,
and picked him up. "Permission
to enter your home, ma'am?"

"Go ahead," Catcher said, and
followed him into the housetruck.

Inside, she pulled cushions onto
the floor to make a bed for Maggot.

"The couch will be yours, but for now,
you'll be more comfortable riding on
the floor so you can't fall," she said
as she tucked him into the nest.

Maggot immediately rolled over
and turned his back on them.

Fivestar looked like he was
tearing his own heart out
as he walked away, but
he refused to cry.

Catcher followed him
to the door and said,
"We'll take care of him."

"Thank you," said Fivestar.
"I know he's ungrateful, but
please don't hold it against him."

"We won't," said Catcher. "I
remember what it was like, After.
Stitcher and I had Alma, but all
the others had lost everyone.
Alma told us to be gentle and
patient with them. She's lost
everything too, more than once,
so we'll get Maggot through this."

Fivestar nodded silently and
then walked away, back straight.

Catcher closed the door and
locked it securely for travel.

She paused by Maggot. "It's
okay to be miserable when you've
lost everything," she said. "We
don't expect you to be all right."

He didn't say anything, but she
could see his shoulders shaking
with the effort to stay silent.

Well, the engine noise would
cover that up soon enough.

"We're heading to Lazarus Lake,
where a real doctor can take
a look at you," Catcher said.
"Until then, just get some rest."

She squeezed past Maggot
into the cockpit and sat down.

It was going to be a long-ass drive.

* * *

Notes:
This poem is long, so its character, setting, and content notes appear separately.

See also the character and setting (maps, vehicles, glossary, the Grunge, animals) notes from its sequel (which got written and posted first) "Laundry, Liturgy, and Women's Work."