In the end, all five of them gathered around the kitchen hearth.
Arthur crouched closest to it, holding a few thin pieces of firewood he had found in the storeroom.
Helena stood beside him with the wooden spoon she had taken down from the wall.
The three children had tried to come closer too, but Arthur sent them back.
“Don’t stand so close.”
Clara looked at the space between herself and the hearth.
“I’m already pretty far away.”
“A little farther.”
“Dad, I’m in my thirties.”
Arthur slid a piece of wood into the firebox.
“You’re three now.”
Clara fell silent.
She had lost count of how many times she’d heard that since waking up, and she still had no answer for it.
Theo did as he was told and retreated all the way to the doorway.
Lucas stayed where he was, watching the hearth.
Arthur looked up.
“What about you?”
“I want to see how you light it.”
“I haven’t figured that out myself.”
Lucas considered this.
“Then I definitely need to watch.”
Arthur let it go.
Ash from previous fires had collected inside the firebox, along with a few pieces of charcoal that hadn’t burned through.
Arthur used a stick to push the ash aside, cleared a space, and arranged the kindling.
Only when he was ready did a problem occur to him.
They had no lighter.
No matches, either.
He searched around the hearth until he found a dark stone and a small piece of metal in a wooden box.
He turned them over in his hands, and Helena leaned in for a look.
“Is that what we use?”
“I think so.”
“Do you know how?”
Arthur paused.
“I’ll give it a try.”
Clara heard him from behind.
“That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It’s just lighting a fire.”
“You used a fire starter even when we had barbecues.”
Arthur decided to ignore her.
He tried striking the stone and metal together.
Nothing happened the first time.
The second time, a spark appeared but went out before it landed.
On his third try, a spark finally caught in the dry grass he had prepared.
Arthur bent down and blew gently.
A thin curl of smoke rose from the grass.
A moment later, a small flame appeared along its edge.
“There we go.” He let out a breath.
Clara took a step forward without thinking.
Without even turning around, Arthur held out an arm to stop her.
“Stay there.”
She stopped.
Lucas kept his eyes on the firebox.
“Add the thin pieces first.
Not too many at once.”
Arthur glanced at him.
“I thought you’d never done this either.”
“I haven’t.
I still know how fire works.”
Arthur added two thin sticks as Lucas suggested.
“Fine.
You give instructions; I’ll do the work.”
“Fine by me.”
Helena watched them, suddenly amused.
One had been a police officer, the other a university professor.
Now they were in a shabby little kitchen, seriously working out how to keep a wood fire going.
Fortunately, the flames began to catch.
Arthur added two thicker pieces of wood and waited until they were burning before standing up and brushing the ash from his hands.
His palms were black.
Theo noticed from the doorway.
“Remember to wash your hands.”
“I will,” Arthur said.
With the fire going, they could heat the water.
The blackened iron pot was the only one in the kitchen.
Helena rinsed it with some of the water from the bucket, then Arthur poured the rest in.
The bucket hadn’t looked very full, but it still had some weight to it.
The three children stood nearby, unable to help.
Clara watched Arthur pour the water into the pot.
Before today, she wouldn’t have given such a small task a second thought.
Now she probably couldn’t even drag the bucket across the floor, much less lift it.
She looked down at her hands and sighed.
Helena heard her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Clara looked up.
“I’ve just realized how little you can do when you’re three.”
“Who says?
You can watch the water for me.”
Clara blinked.
“Watch the water?”
“Tell me when it boils.”
It was a long way from what Clara wanted to be doing, but it was better than standing around.
She brought over the low stool Theo had used earlier, placed it a safe distance from the hearth, and sat down.
“All right.”
Theo found something to do as well.
He inspected the clay cups they would use and set one aside when he found a chip in its rim.
“Don’t use this one.”
Arthur was washing his hands.
He glanced back.
“Why?”
“It could cut someone’s lip.”
“We’ll use another.”
Theo checked the remaining cups.
Lucas, meanwhile, was looking at the hard pieces of bread.
“Are we eating those tonight?”
“I’m afraid so.” Helena went over to inspect them.
They didn’t yet know what to do with the sack of grain.
For now, eating something ready-made was simpler.
Arthur picked up a piece of bread and tried to squeeze it.
It didn’t give.
He tapped it against the table.
Thump.
Clara turned.
“Are you planning to eat it or hit someone with it?”
Arthur looked down at the bread.
“It is a bit hard.”
Theo came over.
“How long has it been here?”
“No idea.”
“Any mold?”
They checked every piece.
The bread was dry and hard, but there was no visible mold and it didn’t smell strange.
“It should be safe to eat,” Theo said.
Arthur looked at his little face.
“Hearing you say ‘should be’ while looking like that isn’t very reassuring.”
“Then don’t eat it.”
Arthur promptly set the bread back on the table.
“I’ll eat it.”
After a while, small bubbles began to appear in the pot.
Clara, who had been watching closely, called out, “It’s bubbling.”
Helena came to look.
“It isn’t boiling yet.”
“I know.”
Clara stayed on her stool.
Before long, the water began to roll, sending warmth and steam into the kitchen.
It was only water.
There was no smell of food cooking.
Even so, the sound of it boiling made all five of them feel a little better.
At least they would have something to drink tonight.
Arthur let it boil a while longer before moving the burning wood aside.
The water was ready, but far too hot to drink.
They ladled it into a clay jug and several bowls and left it on the table to cool.
The children found places to sit around the table again.
This time, Lucas didn’t attempt one of the tall chairs.
Clara took the low stool, while he and Theo each found a wooden box.
Arthur looked at them.
“Changed your minds already?”
“This is easier,” Lucas said.
“No point fighting with a chair,” Theo agreed.
Clara turned to Lucas.
“Who was it that tried to climb one three times?”
Lucas said nothing.
Arthur found a small knife in the kitchen and began cutting the bread.
The blade was dull, and separating the pieces took some effort.
Helena considered the jar of cooking fat, then left it alone.
They didn’t know what it was or how long it had been there.
The shriveled onions looked edible enough, but after staring at them for a moment, no one suggested eating them raw for dinner.
And so their first meal in this place consisted of hard bread and boiled water that had cooled enough to drink.
When Arthur handed out the bread, he gave the three children the slightly softer pieces.
Clara accepted hers, looked at it, then at the piece left in his hand.
“Yours is bigger.”
“I eat more.”
“But we don’t have much food.”
She meant it as a simple reminder.
Arthur looked at her for a couple of seconds before saying, “Eat yours.
I know.”
He broke his piece in half and put one part in front of Helena.
“I have some,” she said.
“Not much.”
Helena looked at him but didn’t push it back.
At last, they ate.
The bread was even harder than they had expected.
Lucas took one bite and noticeably paused.
Clara caught his expression.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He slowly swallowed.
Theo had broken his own bread into small pieces and dropped them into his warm water.
Clara saw what he was doing and copied him.
After a moment, Lucas did the same.
Arthur watched them.
“Why didn’t you say we could do that sooner?”
“You didn’t ask,” Theo said without looking up.
Arthur had no reply.
It wasn’t much of a meal, but at least they no longer felt quite so empty.
By the time they finished the last of the water, it was growing dark outside.
There was no electricity.
Once the sun went down, the rooms quickly became too dim to see in.
Arthur went back to the storeroom and returned with an old oil lamp.
A little oil remained inside.
After examining it for a while, he managed to light it.
Its yellow glow fell across the table, illuminating only a small area around it.
Clara stared at the lamp.
“I miss my phone.”
“Even if you had it, there might not be any signal here,” Lucas said.
“I could still use the flashlight.”
“Until the battery died.
Then what?”
Clara turned to him.
“Do you have to bring that up right now?”
“I just thought of it.”
“Then stop thinking about it.”
Arthur listened to them bicker with a smile.
Gradually, though, the children’s voices grew quieter.
Clara yawned first, surprising herself.
Theo glanced at her.
“Sleepy?”
“No.”
She immediately yawned again.
Theo said nothing, but Clara glared at him anyway.
“Don’t look at me.”
He turned away.
Before long, he yawned too.
Now Clara looked at him.
Theo kept quiet, but she was already smiling.
“You’re no better.”
Lucas opened his mouth to comment on both of them, only to find his own eyelids growing heavy.
They finally understood that although they still had all their adult memories, their three-year-old bodies were tired.
After everything that had happened, it was a wonder they had stayed awake this long.
Helena noticed.
“You three should go to bed.”
Clara tried to protest.
“What time is it?”
Everyone fell silent.
There was no clock in the house.
Arthur glanced out the window.
“It’s dark.”
“I can see that,” Clara said.
She was tired, though, and didn’t argue further.
The family returned to the room where they had woken up.
The bed was wide enough for three small children.
Helena spread out the blanket and felt the straw mattress underneath.
It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it would have to do tonight.
The three children stood beside the bed, looking up at its edge.
The same problem they’d faced that morning had returned: they couldn’t get onto it.
Arthur looked at Theo.
“Not going to try by yourself this time?”
“No need.”
Theo sounded entirely at ease with the decision.
Arthur picked him up and put him on the bed, then did the same for Clara.
When he reached Lucas, his son had just begun to say, “I can do it myself,” but Arthur lifted him before he could finish.
Lucas’s feet left the floor, and so did the rest of his sentence.
Arthur set him down on the mattress.
“Saves time.”
Lucas looked at Theo, who clearly agreed.
The three of them crawled under the blanket.
At first, each lay in their own space.
Then they realized there was only one blanket and moved closer together.
Clara lay on the inside, with Lucas and Theo toward the outer edge.
Helena tucked the blanket around them.
Clara looked up at her mother, suddenly a little self-conscious.
“Mom.”
“What is it?”
“It’s been a long time since you tucked us in, hasn’t it?”
Helena’s hands paused.
It had been a long time.
So long that she had almost forgotten what it looked like to see her three children lying side by side when they were little.
She smiled.
“We’ll get used to it again.”
Clara smiled too and said no more.
Lucas meant to talk to Arthur about whether they should inspect the land tomorrow, but after a few sentences, his voice trailed off.
His three-year-old body wasn’t going to let him stay up and plan.
Before long, all three children were asleep.
Arthur and Helena stood beside the bed for a while.
During the day, it had been easy enough to tell the boys apart once they spoke.
Clara was still easy to recognize now, but Lucas and Theo lay quietly beside each other, with the same short dark hair, similar profiles, and clothes that were almost the same color.
Helena studied them, then whispered, “Which one is Lucas?”
Arthur pointed to the one closer to the edge.
“That one.”
“Are you sure?”
His hand stopped in midair.
He looked again.
Lucas had been in the middle when they lay down.
Or had the two boys moved since then?
Arthur hadn’t noticed.
He fell silent.
Helena’s mouth curved.
“I thought you said you’d know them apart in a couple of days.”
“This is only day one,” Arthur whispered.
“And they really do look alike when they’re asleep.”
Helena couldn’t disagree.
She couldn’t tell them apart either.
After studying them for a little longer, Arthur gave up.
All three children were in bed and sleeping soundly.
There was no reason to wake them just to ask who was who.
Later that night, Theo must have grown uncomfortable.
He rolled over beneath the blanket and draped a leg across Lucas.
The weight woke Lucas.
Half asleep, he tried pushing the leg away, but it wouldn’t move.
“Dad…” he mumbled.
Arthur heard him and came over.
With only the faint glow of the oil lamp to see by, he found his sons tangled together, one of them awake.
He picked up the boy lying on top to move him aside.
The child in his arms stirred, too sleepy even to open his eyes.
“Lucas,” Arthur whispered, “move over a little.”
The boy was quiet for two seconds.
“Dad, I’m Theo.”
Arthur froze.
Lucas was now wide awake on the bed, looking straight at him.
Arthur looked down at Theo in his arms, then at Lucas.
For a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“You picked up the wrong one,” Lucas told him.
Theo was almost asleep again, but he added one word.
“Again.”
Arthur looked down at him.
“When did I do it before?”
Theo thought for a moment.
“Don’t remember.”
Arthur had no answer to that either.
Lucas silently pulled the blanket up a little.
Arthur set Theo down on the other side of the bed and tucked them both in again.
“Go to sleep.”
Before closing his eyes, Lucas reminded him, “Get it right tomorrow.”
“I will.” Arthur tucked the blanket around him.
Once both boys had fallen asleep again, Arthur tiptoed out of the room.
Helena was still outside the door.
She had plainly heard everything, and she was smiling when he came out.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“I can see you smiling.”
Helena finally gave in.
“So which one was Lucas?”
Arthur glanced back at the two little boys on the bed.
After two seconds, he said, “…I don’t know anymore.”
Helena laughed aloud, and Arthur quickly gestured for her to keep her voice down.
Inside, all three children were fast asleep.
Arthur watched them for another moment before gently pulling the door almost shut.
As for which boy was Lucas and which was Theo, he would wait until they spoke for themselves tomorrow.
P.S.
Bonus Scene — The “Which Son Is Which?” Test
The next day, Clara had an idea.
“Dad, they’re not allowed to talk.
Tell me which one is Lucas and which one is Theo.”
Arthur looked at the boy on the left.
Then at the boy on the right.
Both little boys stared back at him without expression.
Arthur fell silent.
“Dad?” Clara prompted.
“…Lucas on the left.
Theo on the right.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
The boy on the left spoke.
“I’m Theo.”
Arthur said nothing.
Lucas, standing on the right, added calmly, “You picked up the wrong one last night.
Now you’ve guessed wrong too.”
Arthur turned to Helena.
“Your turn.”
Helena was quiet for two seconds.
“I’d rather not.”
Theo nodded.
“Dad got it wrong.
Mom forfeited.”
Clara burst out laughing.
“Why did you two look so alike when you were little?” Arthur asked.
“Technically,” Lucas said, “that’s a question for you and Mom.”
Arthur fell silent.
So did Helena.
—Round one of the Bennetts’ “Which Son Is Which?” test: both parents defeated.