The Fall of Man

Part III chapter 4

Chapter 4

Winter is slowly drawing to a close. Noah surmises that it is probably early April, as he sits in the cold pre-dawn glow of the living room again. A candle flickers on the table before him, providing a faint whiff of warmth and illuminating a breakfast of tinned peaches and poached eggs. As the months passed by, undulating drifts of snow and ice came and went. Each day, he cleared the gardens and greenhouse as best he could, in the hope that the crops beneath would survive. This year, spring has been a particularly long time coming - and the signs of life are spare.

Apart from the occasional foraging trip, Noah and Eve’s existence remains confined to the house, and they have focused on preparing for the trip ahead. Today, however, in the early morning quiet he hears a welcome sound - the rhythmic drip drip drip of ice melting from the roof edge onto the greenhouse. It traces its way down the inclined polycarbonate and glass, clearing thin trails through the dirt and debris that snowfalls have peppered across the undulating sheets. Sure enough, green tips are breaking through the hard ground outside, and birdsong can be heard emanating faintly from high overhead.

Some hours later, the two of them carry an inflated dinghy out the back of the estate and into the surrounding forest. The mulch of fallen leaves has turned slick and rotten with months of freezing and thawing. When mixed with the soft ground beneath, it becomes a treacherously muddy black slurry that clings to their legs like tar. Brambles and briars snag at their waterproof clothing, and they are forced to lift the small craft high overhead to avoid tearing its orange rubber skin on the thorns and barbs that seem to grow everywhere.

When they finally get down to the river’s edge, the surface of the water is a sheet of glass. Solid and unmoving, a frosty powder lines its surface. The edges, however, are cracked and frayed. Noah tosses out a fist-sized rock, which punches through the thinnish ice with a galumph. Water wells up through the hole and spills onto the dusty surface. Underneath, the dark river flows steadily downstream.

Just a few more days, he mutters to Eve with a smile. They lean the dinghy upright against a nearby tree, and lash it in place with a long nylon cord. It stands out against the black bark of the wet trees like a beacon – an alien artefact in the overgrown environment. They are about to trudge back to the house when Eve swats at Noah’s jacket. He follows her outstretched arm up through the bony, unadorned limbs of the surrounding woodland. Overhead, a flock of geese straggle across the sky in an ungainly V-shape, their wings flapping in ragged union. Winter is over.

Back at the house, they finally pack their bags. The dinghy will support only a limited weight. Each of them has a small knapsack to fill with dry clothes and essentials; a simple tent, candles, matches, knives, firelighters, a flask of fuel that they were able to scavenge from numerous lighters, then food - dried fruit and seeds, and a handful of tins each, mostly beans. In addition, Noah fills a large, waterproof polythene sack with firewood and kindling and stands it at the back door, alongside a dismantled fishing rod and four five-litre bottles of boiled rainwater.

Overnight, the cold weather returns and two more weeks pass before they finally make the journey back to the dinghy, which is still tethered where they left it on the riverbank. A grey slush of snow and icy patches remain gathered at the water’s edge, but the passing cold front brought two full days of rain with it, and out in the river channel the water is moving swiftly.

Together, they stow their three bags in the centre of the dinghy alongside the bottled water, a small foot pump, the fifty foot coil of nylon rope and two blue plastic oars. While Noah steadies the bobbing boat with one leg anchored on the riverbank, Eve gingerly climbs over their belongings and settles herself at the head of the dinghy looking backwards. Noah then steps into the rear, which dips sharply under his weight. Sitting up on the bulbous rubber body, he gently prods them away from the bank with one of the plastic oars. They drift slowly out towards the centre of the river, then suddenly the current snatches them and they are away…