Lookout Point

The lookout point, deserted and covered in snow, beckoned to my weary soul. It craved the solitude. I’d had a long visit, and wouldn’t be able to linger for long. Sundown was rushing my reverie.

Communication between the communities is generally by HAM radio. I don’t have much to do with that myself–The Elders carry on with their plans as they see fit, and I follow orders, such as they are.

Today, those orders had led me to the northern compound for the first time in over a year. I left well before sunrise; daylight hours were beginning to shorten, and I’d much rather deal with darkness in the morning than in the evening. I suppose it’s because that darkness is cast off by the rising of the sun, and that is a hopeful sort of thing.

We have been off the grid, so to speak, for a good while now. Even if the world hadn’t ended, I’d have preferred it this way. I never was one for crowds. I have to admit I’ve forgotten the finer arts of socializing. Nearly all the residents of the northern compound are strangers, and I felt like an outsider.

I guess I’ve grown used to my own people. Most of them were once strangers, too. I’ll have to get over my shy tendency if I’m to be successful in maintaining good relationships between the compounds. I want very much for us all to work together peacefully.

I mean…just look what happens when people don’t do that!

I was sent as an ambassador of sorts. We try to do a Spring gathering every year, and another in the Fall. It’s a way for all of us to touch base, trade, plan spring planting and exchanges of livestock for breeding and such.

I had spent most of the day with Paul, discussing crop rotation and horse breeding. We still haven’t brought horses to our compound. The folks west of us have a small herd now, and Paul hopes to exchange a few mares with them before winter truly hits. Horses run wild all around us, but no one in the compounds was ever in the cowboy business. We will simply have to work at building up the numbers of domesticated animals until we have enough to share.

We’re doing the same with cattle. We have a few head, thanks to dumb luck. Vance found a few just after the end, and he’s done a good job building up a herd. We have about thirty animals now –nothing like the great herds I used to see in old television westerns, but he’s been very careful in their upbringing. According to the how-to books Penny salvaged, we should try to exchange a couple of bulls with another compound to increase breeding stock for both places.

Paul has the job of planning the crops for the northern slope. The growing season is shorter there, so corn and watermelon are not in the plan. They’re close to the big mountain ranges. They do better with berries and tubers, like potatoes and beets.

Big game hunting is better there. We often trade vegetables for meat with this group. They’ve gotten downright artistic with smoking and drying and otherwise preserving the game they harvest.

In the spring we will construct a mill, now that they have had more success growing wheat. It will be a relief not to hand-grind grains for bread. Trade between communities should be good in the coming year.

I talked to too many people in the course of my visit, and it was exhausting. So many questions! So much discussion! It was all interesting, and exciting, but…

God, I was tired!

I wondered briefly how I’d gotten along in the old world. Strangers had never worn me out back then…

I have to hand it to Dale and the others, who I call The Elders—they had established the compounds and put good people in charge. I was happy enough with my own tasks, and I certainly contributed to some of the planning these days, but their sheer determination to get so many people to safety amazed me.

Paul and I parted with well-wishes for next week’s gathering, and we expressed our hopes that no storms would keep their group away. The roads were still passable, but one never knew at this altitude.

I had discovered the lookout point as I traveled north. I had been on a schedule then and didn’t have time to stop, although I was instantly filled with curiosity.

Heading south, I stopped now, pulling the truck well off the road. I hiked up the hill and sat on one of the benches built under the sturdy branches of a single tree.

Stretched out below, all around, was open land. It was covered in several inches of snow already, although it was only mid-September. Underneath was soil that would never been sown for crops, because there was no nearby source for water. It would be green with grasses and dotted with wildflowers when I next made the trip in the Spring, but by June or July it would be brown and dry.

There were no buildings anywhere around. Again, I wondered about his place–why was it here? Who planted this lone tree, and who thought to put benches beneath its branches?

Who had fastened the heart-shaped locket to the trunk, and who was the couple depicted in the photos it held?

What was it all about?

I examined the tree for tell-tale initials carved into the bark, declaring eternal love.

Nothing.

Undoubtedly, it was someone’s long-lost love.

Or maybe someone’s parents.

I sighed.

Perhaps cattle or sheep had once grazed here for a time. Perhaps sheep herders had parked their camp wagons here in days long past. Perhaps they sat on these benches, watching over their flocks, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes.

I could see the image clearly in my mind: men with work-roughened hands and dirty faces, laughing together at the end of a long work day. Yes. It could have been that way…

There’s no way to ever know…

This world has become a mystery.

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