“We’ve given up love,” says Cade, and his eyes find mine for the briefest of seconds.
“Sex,” says Eli. “We have given up sex, not love.” He squeezes the hand of his partner, smiling at her with a tender expression. It’t not the same for them, I think selfishly. They have given up nothing nature wasn’t already on the way to take.
“My point,” continues Cade, beginning to grow irritable. “Is that we don’t know if any of that is necessary. For all we know, there could be a town three days walk from here.”
“We’ve looked before,” says Carl.
“We quit before,” says Tanner, his big voice booming above the others.
“I propose that we send a team to search for civilization.” says Cade. There is a collective gasp from the group as men, women, and children consider what that means. We have never separated. Even when we hunt, we remain close to camp. To divide would be unheard of.
“Why now?” asks Eli, peering up at Cade. I can see the thoughts coursing behind his deep brown eyes as he tries to piece together why today is different than yesterday.
Cade looks to me for help. This is the part he is most nervous about, telling the group about Christa without first telling Christa or Tanner.
I open my mouth to speak but am silenced by Tanner’s hand on the crook of my elbow. He gives me a knowing look before taking his place beside Cade.
“Christa is going to have a baby,” he says, and I hear her take in a sharp breath beside me. There is a soft murmur among the crowd as men and women consider what they have just heard. We all remember the last time a member of our group was pregnant. Both she and the baby died. It is why we have rules. It is why Cade never holds my gaze for longer than a second. We can’t help Christa without asking the group, but asking them is also admitting to breaking our rules. My hands tremble in front of me.
“You are asking us for permission to leave or permission to form a team?” prompts Eli. His face shows no judgement, and I silently pray that means he is one vote for our side.
“Permission for both,” says Cade. He tries to keep his voice strong and steady, but I catch the slightest hint of fear and I think that others must hear it too.
“A team would require supplies,” says Carl. “We can’t afford to give away supplies. What if you don’t come back?”
“We will come back,” says Cade. “That much you can be sure of.”
Eli closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “Supplies we can replace. People we cannot. Who among us would you take?”
Cade begins to point, calling each member we discussed last night by name. “Hollis, Nick, Adam, Cora and Nani.” He does not point at me, and I feel my face growing hot with rage.
“And me,” I bark. “I want to be on the team.”
“You should stay with Christa,” says Cade, leveling me with a stare that makes my skin crawl. He knew he wouldn’t take me, but he let me believe otherwise. I feel used and angry.
“Names don’t matter until we vote,” says Carl, silencing the cruel things Cade and I say back and forth to one another with just our eyes.
“You two can argue over whether or not she goes if we allow you to go.” His if is heavy, and I know right away that Carl is a vote against us. We have ourselves, plus Tanner and Christa. It will only take twelve more, but I am beginning to worry. Nick and Adam said nothing when Cade pointed to them and Cora and Nani are silent as well.
“You all know the rules,” says Eli. “Your smooth stone for a yes, a coarse one for no.”
One at a time each member of our group walks behind the great tree that marks the entrance to our camp. We place our stone in a clay bowl and return to the speaking stone. When everyone has finished, Eli turns the bowl over in the center of camp. I watch with nervous eyes as the stones fall from the bowl to the forest floor. Christa’s fate will be determined by a bowl of rocks. Our system has never seemed more primitive.
Two
Everything I fear becomes truth. There are 8 votes for us and 24 against. I think about jumping up on the speaking stone and telling everyone they have chosen wrong, but Christa is at my side steering me toward the water before I can say or do anything to change the outcome.
“I voted against,” she says, looping her arm through mine.
“You what?” I can hardly think straight, hearing her say this.
“I can’t lose you or Cade,” she says. Her tone is so steady, so matter of fact that I can’t maintain my anger. She has a way of calming me that I can’t afford to give up.
“Instead, I have to lose you?”
Christa rubs her abdomen with her free hand. It must feel freeing, no longer keeping a secret.
“No one says you have to lose me,” she replies.
I stop walking and turn to look at her. Blond curls hang in front of her dark green eyes. She is always a mixture of wild and determined, but for once, I want her to be something else. For once I want her to be cautious.
“You know what happened before. How can you smile and act like everything will be fine?”
Christa sighs. “What’s the alternative? Living with fear? Waking up each morning worrying that I’ll end up like her?”
We both shudder. We haven’t lost many in our group. But those we did were expected. Eli was not always the oldest, the children were not always the youngest. The weak went first. But the woman with the baby, her death shook us all.
That first year, before she died, there were no rules about what men and women could and could not do together. I can remember the hum of excitement we all felt at the prospect of a baby. We weren’t afraid then.
But then there was a night of screaming, pain, suffering, and death, not just for the woman, but for the baby born without a breath in its body.
We voted that night. Men and women would no longer be alone together. Children were no longer an option. I was fourteen when I cast my rough stone, now at twenty I wonder if it was the right choice.
“What did you vote then?” I ask.
Christa bites her lip, her eyes straying from mine. “We didn’t know what we were voting for then.”
I don’t need her to tell me. I remember well enough. We all voted for the rules. What I don’t understand, what I wish she could explain to me now, is how she has forgotten what it felt like, burying the baby.
We are walking again now, moving south along the water’s edge.
Christa spots a patch of river mint and bends down to pluck the small green leaves from their stems. I pull my bag off my shoulder and set it between us as we work. I want to talk more, to convince her she is wrong, that her vote was wrong, but I don’t. There is no point now. The council will not change their mind and Christa is more stubborn than all of our group combined.
“What will you do?” I ask, when the silence is too much.
Christa wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “There are things we can do for pain. We can use the eucalyptus leav—”
“And infection?” I ask. “What will you do if there is an infection?”
Christa narrows her eyes at me. “You’ll curse me if you keep talking about this.”
She’s joking, but she’s also scared. I can see that in the worry lines that frame her eyes.