Tammy whined, "But if he does come back, that's another one of them."
Theresa nodded. But she knew they were in dire straits. The weather was brutal, cold, and they were all pregnant as fuck. They would not be able to go out and hunt on their own, and the only food they would have coming their way would be from hunting. Food was an issue in the camp. They had come with plenty of supplies, but those supplies were dwindling. Soon they would be out of food, and then five pregnant women and a woman with a busted-up leg would have to fend for themselves.
The plan had been to build a smokehouse. The men talked about it and talked about it, but they had never gotten around to it. Now they were dead, and the women were going to have to live off game. She was annoyed that Liz and Tammy hadn't thought of this on their own, but they never thought of anything on their own. They were calculators, only capable of producing correct answers when you pressed all of the buttons yourself.
"We're gonna need him. You seen how much food we got left, ya dumb bitch? Ain't gonna last the winter if we have to live off that."
Tammy and Liz looked at each other as if they had just realized how precarious their position was. Theresa sighed as she watched the lights come on in their heads. They weren't bad people, just dumb as a box of rocks.
They all looked up at the ranger station. Theresa didn't like relying on the man any better than they did. But the sad fact was, they were pregnant, and not just a little bit pregnant. Theresa felt larger every day. A month, maybe two, and the camp would be filled with wailing babies. She didn't want to think about what that would do to the amount of dead out there. Their bawling would surely bring the dead, but they would handle it if it came to that.
"Come on. Let's kill these things and then get inside. It's so cold it hurts out here.
The women grabbed their spears and climbed awkwardly on top of the trailers, waddling, their bellies forcing them to turn sideways as they climbed.
As she plunged a spear tip into the eye of one of the dead, Theresa realized she didn't know whether she wanted the black man to live or die tomorrow. Whatever will be, will be, she thought to herself, letting fate take control of the man's future.
****
Mort stepped inside the ranger station. It was cold and dark. Down a hallway to the back, he saw a light coming from one of the rooms. The wind blew hard outside, and he shivered as it found its way inside through the flimsy walls and windows of the ranger station.
A woman stepped into the hallway.
"Who the fuck are you?" she asked.
"I'm lookin' for my friends."
The woman said nothing, but from the other room, he heard a voice. "Mort? Mort, is that you?"
Tears came to his eyes. It had been so long since he had heard a familiar voice. "Yeah, it's me."
He headed towards the sound of the voice. He ignored the pregnant woman as she cocked her thumb at him and asked, "You know this guy?" He rounded the open doorway, and he saw Joan sitting on the floor, her ruined leg splayed out before her.
He didn't know how he got there, but he found himself squatting over Joan, his arms wrapped around her. She hugged him back, and he felt hot tears spill down his cheeks. It was the only warmth he felt at the moment. They stayed that way for a long time, until eventually, the pain in his shoulder reacquainted itself with his nervous system, and he was forced to stand up. It was then that he noticed Katie lying unconscious on the bed.
She looked tired. Dark circles ringed her closed eyes. Despite the chill in the ranger station, a faint sheen of sweat shone on her face. Mort thought that the pale, white light from the lantern made her seem like a ghost.
"Is she alright?" he asked.
"I don't know," Joan said. "She came in here yesterday and passed out. She has a fever and only wakes up for a few moments at a time."
As they spoke, Katie stirred on the bed. Her eyelids fluttered and then opened to reveal dark and glassy eyes. In a weak voice, she said, "Wait until your father gets home." Then she groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering and closing once more.
"Well, can't you help her?" Mort asked.
"I don't have any tools. Honestly, I can't even take her temperature. Without my tools, all I can do is let her rest and try and keep her warm."
Mort nodded. He understood completely, but he didn't like seeing Katie in that condition. That wasn't the Katie he knew. That woman who woke up and talked; that didn't even sound like Katie. She had always been hard, somewhat clipped in her speech. That woman sounded different, soft and gentle, the way Mrs. Shapiro had always talked to him in kindergarten.
"Who are those women out there?" Mort asked.
"That's Theresa, Liz, and Tammy," the other woman said.
If she hadn't been pregnant, Mort would have said that the lady was pretty. He might have even said she still was if it weren't for that cold light in her green eyes.
"Yeah, well, they almost didn't let me in," he said. "I thought they was gonna kill me."
The almost pretty woman said, "Liz and Tammy wouldn't have done nothing. They're too dumb to even think about it. Theresa, on the other hand, that's one bitch you don't want to cross." The woman rubbed some scars on her wrist with one of her hands,
