by M C Rooney
“You think you can do better as a leader?” said Hockey to him mildly.
“A monkey with only a pile of shit in its head could do better than your eldest son,” Sam spat out vehemently.
Frank and Fred Carter had walked over and were smiling at Sam’s almost imminent death. Strangely, Hockey just nodded at this admission.
Hockey then turned to his friend Carter. “Do you know this boy?”
Carter smiled at Sam. “Yeah, he’s a good kid. Bit of a temper, though; reminds me of you,” he finished with a laugh.
Hockey contemplated this comment for a moment.
“Well,” Hockey said as strode towards Sam, “you find my son Rodent, and you can have his suit.”
Sam stood in disbelief. Did he just hear that correctly?
Frank and Fred gaped in shock.
“Dead or alive?” Sam managed to say.
“Dead or alive,” Hockey said, and his friend Carter looked upon him in sadness. “I’m too old,” Hockey continued, “to be the one who walks around in that suit. That is why I gave one to my eldest, in the hope he would be worthy of it. He isn’t.” He sighed at his own failure of choosing his family above the tribe. He was tired, so tired. The last three years had taken the last of his strength. All he wanted to do was leave something behind for his son Buzz.
He then focused on Sam, and his eyes and voice hardened. “Swear to me that you will follow the lead of my son Buzz and I give you permission to wear Rodent’s suit.”
“I will need some men,” Sam managed to reply.
“You will have twenty of your choosing,” replied Hockey.
What a day, Sam thought deliriously.
He bent a knee and swore an oath to follow Lord Buzz, come what may. Everybody saw it, and Sam intended to fulfill this agreement. As he had said before, he would be honoured to follow Hockey’s youngest son.
“Remember,” Hockey said, “no holes in the suit, or it will either be unusable or kill you at the first try.” At this, he wandered back to check on his youngest boy.
No holes in the suit, Sam mused, how was he to kill him, then? I’ll think of a way, he thought with his usual confidence.
Frank and Fred were looking at him with pure hatred now. Sam had just realised that owning a powerful weapon meant you had to be constantly watching your back.
“See ya, dickheads,” Sam said to the older Carter brothers as he walked past.
He had to talk to his own brother, Alex. He had to get him to watch his back.
The professor, on his usual maintenance runs, leant over the edge of the tower beam about forty metres above Hockey and his entourage and watched the argument.
That Sam has some balls, the voice in his head said.
“Yes, but will he keep them?” the professor replied.
They watched the young man who had shaved hair at the sides and spiky hair in the middle take a massive punch from Hockey to the side of the head.
That’s got to hurt.
“Wouldn’t tickle,” the professor replied.
But bravely, the young man staggered to his feet and spat blood at Hockey.
Did he just call Rodent a dumb you-know-what?
“Well, he is,” said the professor.
I know, said the voice, but I wouldn’t say that to his father; many other people I would, but not to his father.
They listened to the conversation a bit longer.
“Sounds like Rodent has been up to his usual Napoleon-like skills,” the professor said, laughing.
A pure military genius, the voice cackled back at him.
And they listened some more.
“So let me get this straight,” the professor said after a moment. “He killed some of his own men, they all fell into a trench, then he killed the rest!” the professor finished in disbelief.
Is he on our side? the voice asked seriously.
“I’m starting to believe he may be,” the professor replied with a grin. “May the Maker bless his empty head.”
Molly has headed north!
“And she sounds like she may be injured, like Lord Buzz,” the professor said with worry.
But she may have some new friends.
“Let’s hope they look after her.”
Because we can’t, the voice said sadly.
“I know,” the professor replied in desperation.
So Rodent has run away south, the voice then said in shock.
“I wonder if he knows about the one hundred-kilometre rule,” the professor pondered.
I don’t know.
“Ha, a monkey is a better leader,” the professor said and started to laugh.
With shit in its head. The voice laughed back at him.
“Hmm, that’s a tough choice, though,” the professor said thoughtfully, “Rodent or a brainless monkey?”
The monkey would have jumped over the trench, the voice replied.
“Sam is going south,” said the professor.
To kill Rodent!
“I wonder if he knows about the one hundred-kilometre rule,” the professor pondered, and then suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.
You said that a moment ago, remember?
“Oh, yes, I did,” the professor said. “Sorry about that.”
That’s quite all right, the voice replied.
Molly was dreaming of being hit hard in the chest by a silver man, a man in a suit just like hers. A lightning bolt, she thought with a jolt of pain.
The lightning bolt must have hit her hard because she could still feel the vibrations, and the blood seemed to be pounding through her head. She opened her eyes, and all she could see was the colour purple.
Where am I? she thought in a panic.
She looked up, and all she could see was the colour green. Purple and green! What was going on?
“We’re halfway there,” she heard a voice say.
Where had she heard the voice before? He sounded familiar, she realized as she felt her body swaying.
She looked up at the green sky and saw her hands and arms. Why do I have my hands in the air like this? she wondered.
She was starting to feel another overwhelming surge of panic when she saw a pair of shoes in the sky above. And looking closer, she saw the green sky actually looked like grass. After a few seconds of pondering this, she realised she was upside down.
“Help,” she said weakly.
“Did you say something?” a voice asked.
“Please, help,” Molly said again.
“She’s awake!” a voice said in surprise. “Jeremy, quick, put her down!”
Molly felt her world turn upside down—literally—and all of a sudden, she was lying on the ground, which she once thought was a green sky, and four concerned faces were looking down at her.
“Hi, Molly. It’s me, Roland,” said the ponytailed man with the green robe as he crouched down.
“Please forgive us,” said the handsome man. “We had to leave the area of the battle in case more of those savages showed up.”
The battle, thought Molly, and all the memories began to resurface. Lord Rodent the Idiot, Lord Buzz the Dangerous.
“Where am I?” she asked.
“We decided to take you back to our home,” the man with the purple robe said. Obviously, he was the man named Jeremy, who had carried her over his shoulder.
“Your home!” she said in surprise.
“Yes,” Roland said. “It seemed like the safest place at the time.”
“Oh,” Molly said. “Lord Buzz’s men!” she realised with a shock.
“We took care of them; they will trouble you no more,” the handsome man replied with a smile.
Molly was impressed. There had been at least twenty of them.
“Thank you for saving me,” she replied as she remembered her manners.
The handsome man—Edward, was that his name?—smiled back at her in a way that made her blush.
“Roland killed them all,” Jeremy said with a grin.
Molly instantly liked these men named Roland and Jeremy. She turned and smiled at the blonde girl, who had appeared a bit angry at her earlier. Michelle, I think her name was.
“How do you put up with these men?”
“It’s a trial,” she said grumpily and thrust Molly’s suit helmet back at her and walked off.
“Okay, then.” she sighed. A bit of thought needed to be done as to why Michelle seemed to hate her so much. “I think I need to stand up now,” Molly said after a moment, and Edward and Jeremy came forward to help her.
She took a deep breath and focused on her surroundings. “There are no clouds,” she said as she looked up at the clear blue sky. She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the sun enter her body.
“We’re near the East Coast,” said Jeremy.
“Blue skies and sea breeze,” Edward added.
“The sea!” Molly exclaimed in amazement. “I have never seen the ocean.” She thought she would be quite happy to see the ocean after hearing so much about it from the professor.
“I would be happy to escort you to any destination that you wish,” replied Edward with another dazzling smile.
Molly felt a bit breathless at that smile. He wasn’t as nice as Roland or Jeremy; in fact, she felt there was something not quite right about him, but he was very fine to look at.
“Edward’s father is the governor of the habitable eastern townships,” Roland said. “He will probably be interested to know about the tower.”
“I don’t know much as to how it works,” replied Molly, “just that it does.”
“The governor thinks that the electricity is supplied by the grace of the Infinite,” Roland informed her with a grin.
“The Infinite?” asked Molly with a confused look.
“God,” replied Roland.
Molly laughed out loud. “Well, the Professor would be flattered that you thought of him that way.”
Roland then looked at Edward with a smug grin and was pleased that the ever-cool Edward Abercrombie went red with embarrassment.
“The Professor is the only one who knows how the tower works?” asked Jeremy quietly.
“I’m afraid so,” Molly replied in a serious tone. “He was going to teach me one day, but then the new people showed up.”
“But he does know everything about the tower?” said Jeremy.
“Yes,” replied Molly, “but the tower has been there for fifty years now, and all the Professor does is run repairs.”
“But the tower is so high,” said Jeremy. “He still must be very fit to climb that high.”
“That he is,” she replied with a proud smile.
“Why hasn’t he passed on the knowledge to the Westerners?” asked Edward, who was no longer smiling.
“He may have by now, but I think he will only pass the knowledge on to people he deems worthy,” said Molly.
“Such as you,” replied Edward.
“Yes,” Molly answered, noticing that Edward had lost his charming smile and seemed to be in deep thought.
Are all handsome men like him? she wondered.
“He seems a character,” Roland noted.
“Yes, he is,” replied Molly. “He is also …” She trailed off.
“What?” asked Roland.
“A touch … eccentric,” she finally answered with a sigh.
Roland thought about the word eccentric. Sometimes it meant just that, but there was also another meaning of the word, and that was completely mad.
The future of the Midlands was at the crossroads. The professor was old, and it was possible that the technology was still a secret. So when the old man passed away, all electricity would disappear again, maybe to be lost forever, unless he passed the knowledge on to Molly. Roland wondered how the governor would react to this. He had a feeling that the tower was going to play a very large role in their lives in the coming months.
Tasmanian Lower Midlands
Tom and his companions rode slowly back to the small township five kilometres south. The young girl, who was still wearing Tom’s jacket, clung to Renee as she sat behind her on her horse. Tom had the feeling it would be a long time before she trusted a man’s touch again.
Tom’s thoughts drifted again to what had happened at the farmhouse with the gore as he opened the first man’s stomach and the fountain of blood as he took the second man’s head. He felt ill at what he had done and kept looking at The Breaker, wanting to discuss what was on his mind, but he didn’t know how to broach the subject.
“You both did well back there,” Locke said.
“Thanks, Breaker,” Renee replied.
Tom said nothing, just rode onwards, deep in thought.
“Killing a man isn’t easy,” said Locke finally. “When I first killed a bandit, I was worried that I liked it too much.” He looked over at Tom. “But later, I realised that I didn’t like it as such. I just felt a sense of joy that I had survived. He was dead, and I was alive, gloriously alive.”
Tom looked back at Locke.
“It’s only if, in the quiet moments like this,” Locke continued, “that you look back and still enjoy the thought of killing and want to do it again. Then, my friends, and only then, do you know for true that you have a real problem.”
“Thanks, Locke,” Tom said, smiling with relief.
Locke just nodded back at his young companion and, looking forward, said, “We are almost there,” as they approached a number of small houses.
Renee had been quietly talking to the young girl behind her. She wondered if the poor girl would ever recover from her ordeal. Losing a father like that was horrific, and then to go through what she had afterward would have been a living nightmare. She had loved what Tom had done in offering his apologies. It was so genuine and heartfelt. If only they had arrived five minutes earlier, they could have stopped the evil men before they caused any harm. But life was not always kind. Her grandparents had told her about the time of the Collapse. The oddity of the comets in the sky followed by the day of mass murder; then, only a fraction of the city’s population had survived as beggars for years afterward.
It must have been such a shock to their minds, but they had survived; humans do survive great catastrophes, and she hoped the young girl sitting behind her would survive as well.
She listened as Locke explained to them about the first time he had killed a man. It was obviously a relief to Tom, and to her she realised, that the feeling of elation at your own survival was not to be confused with feeling good that you had killed someone.
“We are almost there,” the girl behind her whispered.
Greg Hurst was a man of medium height with grey hair and a short grey beard. He was the de facto leader of a small town and its outlying lands, twenty kilometres north of Hobart. This town consisted of two hundred people, who were mostly farmers, clothes makers, and builders. They had enough land to feed themselves, but attacks from a group of nearby bandits were common. Why these bandits could not make a living for themselves was beyond Greg. His father had told him that Tasmania had a population of over half a million before the Collapse; now, they had maybe twenty thousand as far as Greg knew. So an angry part of Greg’s mind wished the bandits would just piss off and leave them alone. The logistical part of his mind wondered why someone who lived on an island of sixty plus thousand square kilometres in size and could own any parts of the empty land if they so chose, didn’t decide just to set up a home of their own and feed themselves instead of coming around and stealing his community’s food.
Laziness it was, laziness and complete selfishness. How people could think only of themselves and have no care for others was something Greg could just not comprehend. These people were parasites, plain and simple, and had been bludging on societies since time began. His father, who had now passed and received ‘the final cut’, had always told him to be grateful there wasn’t any money left in the world be
cause that was what bandits were really after, and they would have killed you for it. Money was an item that could not be grown. Fruit and vegetables, on the other hand, needed people to grow them. The world or Tasmania at least, was on a knife’s edge as far as Greg was concerned. Rumours were spreading of a disease in the old capital of Hobart. And just this morning, he had seen three strangers, one woman and two men, ride through the middle of town. Sure, they were polite and seemed to be well dressed in fine green jackets, but any stranger in these times was to be considered an enemy first and foremost. The woman was a pretty young girl who wore an old soldier’s slouch hat. One of the men gave the impression of being a seasoned campaigner who had the look of a skilled horseman, and the other man was a youngster with a large dark hat who had to be one of the biggest men he had ever seen.
Strange days, he thought as he began to work in his garden.
“Father!” his daughter, Susan, shouted as she ran towards him from the side of the house. She looked frightened.
“Bandits! Are they back again? We just fed those bastards last week.”
“No,” she replied as she reached him. “The three strangers who rode past this morning have returned, and they have Marissa.”
“What, are they kidnapping her?” he said in a panic as he ran for his bow and knives.
Marissa was his niece, who lived a short ride away with his departed wife’s brother-in-law, Kevin.
“No, Father,” Susan said. “She is riding on a horse behind the female. I think something very bad has happened to her.”
Tom watched as a middle-aged man with grey hair and beard ran towards them with a younger girl, who was most likely his daughter. A large group of people were walking towards them in the distance. Strangely, they seemed to be carrying large amounts of food.
“Raise your hands,” Locke said to Tom and Renee, and they did what he ordered as the man who was carrying a bow aimed it towards them.
“What have you done to my niece?” he shouted as he pointed the bow at each of them in turn.
“Uncle,” said the young girl they had rescued in a shaky voice, “they are friends; they saved me.”
