What used to be Arkansas Chapter 2

with audio

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Copyright © 2022 Maira Dawn All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 2:

Axel ripped his gaze from the river and prodded his friend. “Are we going to argue all morning, then?”

Wolf patted his stomach. “If we are, how about we argue over breakfast? I’m hungry.”

Axel nodded and walked toward the ladder. He gave the Red one last glance before leaving the platform, searching the water for the huge silent shadow often moving just below its surface.

Once the teens made it to the ground below, Axel saw two of his house family, those he lived with, waiting to take a shift at watch.

As an older teen, Sasha qualified to keep watch on her own, but eight-year-old Markie was in training and eager to take on larger assignments. Today would be his third time on the platform, and his sharp eyesight had already proved valuable.

Last week, the boy had seen a small caravan moving at a snail’s pace down the old interstate on the other side of their cabins. To Axel, as he stood on the platform, they had seemed smaller than a bug, but Markie spotted them with no problem.

In the leader’s opinion, any group moving that slowly meant trouble. They were searching for something—maybe a house, a meal, or a person—most likely looking to take advantage of others. Anyone unknown wasn’t trustworthy—not until they proved themselves. So Markie kept an eye on the likely grub-grabbers until they moved east far enough that they were out of sight.

“Markie. Sasha,” Axel said in greeting. Beside him, Wolf nodded when the others tipped their heads toward them. “I’m glad to see you on the job, Markie. You’ve been a big help so far.”

Sasha smiled and looked down at the boy just like a proud mother.

Markie puffed with pride. “Thank you, Axel! I’m trying to learn everything as fast as I can.”

The older teen crouched, lowering himself to the boy’s level. “Fast ain’t necessary, Markie. Take your time and learn it well.”

“I will,” Markie said, a sincere expression on his face.

“You’re the first of the little ones to start training. It’s a great example for them. They’re looking up to you, learning by your example—like the middle ones did to us when this all started. So learn well, and you’ll pass it on when the younger ones are old enough for a turn at it.” Axel ruffed up Markie’s hair.

The boy gave a quick smile and started up the ladder to the platform.

Axel’s affectionate gaze followed the young boy, who had been the first little one they’d found after the day the sky fell.

Frightened, Axel had been trying to herd his equally shaken foster siblings somewhere other than their home that had just burned to the ground. As they walked down the road, a grief-stricken cry from a young child called for his mother from under a pile of broken wood and glass that had once been a small house.

As the oldest of the orphans, Axel had his hands full. His siblings needed food, clothing, and shelter before the sun disappeared—and it practically sat on the horizon already. Axel’s chest tightened and his arms tingled—a new high for his anxiety. 

Only by repeating over and over his foster dad’s survival instructions had he gotten through the first few critical hours.

The last thing he’d needed was another little one.

But the scared, shaky cry of “Mommy, Mommy” zeroed in on his heart, giving him no choice.

He’d turned to Sasha, the second oldest. Several reddish-brown burns covered her arms and legs—one bad enough to blister. She’d gotten the wounds helping others escape the flames. In addition, she favored her left leg, and a good portion of her hair had escaped her normally immaculate braids and now curled against her scalp and the back of her neck. The girl needed to rest as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, Sasha. I just can’t leave—”

“I know,” she said, instantly agreeing. She moved closer to the broken house.

Together, they and the other kids picked through the ruins to rescue the panicked child trapped inside.

“We’re here,” Axel called to him. “We’re coming to get you.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

“Markie.” The little boy inserted a “w” sound into his name.

“Markie. We have to dig a bit, but we’re gonna find you. I promise.”

Sasha sent Axel a warning glance.

She was right. He shouldn’t make promises he might not be able to keep. The kid could be anywhere under there.

An hour later, they found him. Somehow, he’d made it through his home’s collapse without a scratch—even though his parents had not.

The older kids covered Markie’s parents and pulled the little boy from the wreckage.

Markie cried, but whether it was because they saved him or because his parents were gone, Axel didn’t know for sure. Probably a little of both.

Six years later, everyone knew Markie was a crier—that’s the way he was made. He’d cried so many days since they’d found him that Axel lost count of them. 

Sometimes he cried when he was happy—Axel hadn’t been surprised to see the swell of tears in the corner of the boy’s eyes as he stepped onto the first rung of the ladder.

But most of the time the tears came when he was sad or worried—or when he thought he’d disappointed someone.

That was okay by Axel, and by the child’s psychology book he’d been reading. It was good to get those feelings out. So when other kids made fun of Markie for getting upset, he took the boy aside and told him to cry all he wanted.

On more than one occasion, Axel wished he could cry too. He couldn’t remember crying . . . ever.

Instead, a hard lump lived deep inside him, somewhere near his heart. It never went away. That spot always ached—sometimes more, sometimes less—depending on what the day brought. 

He’d always felt like a few tears would do him good.

Once Markie and Sasha made it to the top of the tree, Axel and Wolf walked toward the little circle of cabins that made up the housing part of their community.

Split log fencing ran between the houses, completely encircling a good-sized yard in front of the cabins. Axel grimaced as he thought it, but it was like a holding pen for the little ones.

Each of the cabins contained six bunk beds, a dining table and chairs, and a living room area. Each household was encouraged to take care of one young child—but only if the occupants had a good temperament for it.

Most of the groups agreed to raising a child. Several included at least one older boy or girl who found contentment in mothering or fathering a child.

Since all the middle and older kids had chores, the fencing came in handy. When one “mother” or “father” was off working, they could signal another to keep an eye out for their little one.

Over the years, their community had rescued several little ones from the surrounding area, adding them to their own families. But it surprised Axel that they were still finding children so long after The Fall.

He always wondered if the parents dumped their own kids, or if some evil person had taken advantage of them and then left them behind.

They seldom got complete answers from children so young. But whatever the reason, they still found lost children out there from time to time.

Entering his little village, Axel’s stomach rumbled. Beside him, Wolf chuckled and rubbed his own belly.

Axel halted when he spotted his neighbor, Ginny, running his way.

From the look on her face, it looked like the newest child had slipped the fence—again.