“Pleased to meet you,” said Father Daniel. He wore no obvious accoutrements of a man of the cloth, but there was a serenity about him. Whether that came from faith, or was simply the laid back attitude of an aging surfer, was another matter, but one that likely didn’t matter too much in the grand scheme of things.
“Likewise. Not too many friendly faces left.”
The other man chuckled. “Ben here’s pointing an automatic rifle at you, and you call us friendly?”
Stranger let the corners of his mouth rise in a smile. “If he pulls the trigger I might revise my opinion.”
Father Daniel laughed a roaring belly laugh that echoed round the confined space. “Oh it’s definitely nice to meet you. However, before we go any further I must insist…”
Stranger nodded his understanding. Very slowly, and using only the tips of his fingers, he lifted the knife and the pistol free of their respective holsters, laid them gently on the floor, then lifted his hands and stepped back.
Father Daniel moved forward, dropped to his knees, and picked up the weapons. When he stood he had one in each hand, weighing them up. “KA-BAR combat knife and a Smith and Wesson 1911.”
“I couldn’t find a Colt.”
Another laugh, gentler this time; “Still impressive.”
Stranger shrugged. “Only got three rounds for it, so if you have any .45 caliber ammo it’d certainly be something I’d happily trade for.”
“Do you have much to trade in there?” he gestured with the toe of his boot towards the rucksack. “Any other weapons?”
“You can look if you like. No other weapons, though I have half a dozen shotgun shells that ain’t no good to me. Couple of penknives, some batteries that I think still got juice in them.” He smiled. “That’s it bar the shirt on my back.”
“Ah yes, which does bring me to the next request.” He suddenly looked quite uncomfortable. “And I apologize in advance.”
They made him strip down to his shorts. Another man entered, somewhere in age between Ben and Father Daniel, who identified himself as Ashton; a nurse.
Stranger grumbled at the imposition and the close visual inspection Ashton proceeded to make of his body, but inwardly he was impressed. Not only a way of spotting any potential infections, but also another good security tactic.
“He seems in good health,” said the nurse at last. He frowned and reached towards the dog tags that dangled around Stranger’s neck, pausing before touching them. “May I?” Stranger nodded and Ashton lifted them to one side. “Pacemaker?” he asked gesturing to the rough looking vertical scar on his chest.
Stranger shook his head. “Roadside bomb, a long time ago now.” He looked towards Father Daniel. “You know it’s warm in here, but not that warm. Any chance I can get dressed?”
“I don’t see why not, and after that perhaps a tour?”
***
He dressed and they let him take back his rucksack after a quick inspection; he noticed they didn’t remove anything, seemed they were sincere about trading. Father Daniel handed his weapons off to Ashton who, along with Ben, disappeared while Stranger was dressing. Despite this he began to relax. If these people meant him harm they’d have taken the chance when he was almost naked and defenseless. One shot from the M-16 would have been all it would have taken, and they’d have gained more than they’d have lost expending one bullet.
Besides, leaving him alone with an unarmed man implied a certain level of trust.
Father Daniel explained that the building they were in was the old shower and toilet block from the days when surfers and other tourists visiting the beach needed to use the facilities.
“It works quite well as a quarantine area now. We don’t use it for much else. The drains back up so we blocked them off; we have latrines instead. Basic, but hygienic at least.” Oil lamp in hand he led Stranger along a corridor to a single door.
When he opened it, Stranger shivered as the cold struck again. Father Daniel didn’t seem to notice, despite not being dressed nearly as warmly as Stranger was. He was obviously a lot more used to the chill.
“It’s okay, we won’t be outside long.”
They emerged into a courtyard that was small enough that he could make most of it out in the gloom, and the lights that hung here and there helped. Electric lights, he noted with interest. Stranger took a few moments to get his bearings, mentally drawing a plan of the layout in his head. There were paving slabs beneath his feet, but they gave way to sand closer to the sea. The shower block was a small, single-story building, and either side of it he could see the walls built of cars. He realized he’d done these people a disservice. They had an inner wall composed of large fragments of wood, metal, plastic, tables, doors, anything that could be fixed together. Even if you clambered through the cars you’d be stymied by the inner wall, or at least slowed down by it.
He could see a narrow jetty leading out to sea, the far end swallowed up by nothingness. As he watched, a couple of figures—both women judging by the outlines—came walking out of the darkness. Stranger was pretty sure they had fishing rods over their shoulders.
Across the courtyard was a small cluster of buildings, again all single-storied. One looked like a restaurant; he saw tables and chairs through the large plate glass windows. The others looked like they’d been shops selling surfing goods and general beach paraphernalia. Through the gaps between the buildings he could just make out another wall of cars.
The final structure was to his left, a much larger building, this one two stories high, that looked like it’d either been apartments or maybe offices. The building formed an archway above high, wire-mesh gates, with the second story of the structure running overhead. Stranger imagined this had once been an inviting entrance to the beachfront amenities; now it looked curiously reminiscent of the entrance to a concentration camp.
“Do you catch much?” he asked gesturing towards the fisherwomen as they walked across the courtyard, the area barren but for some picnic tables. Father Daniel was leading him towards the larger building.
He nodded. “Quite a lot actually, a fair amount of our diet comes from fish alone.” His expression became taut. “Of course, how long it will be before the darkness starts to affect fish stocks…well that’s anyone’s guess.”
“What else do you eat?” They passed a few people as they walked across the courtyard. Stranger made a mental tick each time he saw a face for the first time, keeping a tally of the likely population. By the time they reached a door to the left of the gate he reckoned he’d seen eleven people so far.
It wasn’t until Father Daniel began to open the door that he answered the question. “We have some livestock, if you can call it that, but mostly fruit and vegetables.”
Stranger didn’t even try to keep the surprise off his face. “How the hell do you grow them?”
Daniel chuckled. “Hobbie, the man who used to own this place…well let’s just say he wasn’t the most law abiding of people, had a marijuana lab in the cellar here.” And he rapped on the door. “Hydroponics, heaters, lamps, the whole nine yards.” He shrugged. “Didn’t take much to convert a cannabis crop into a tomato one.” He gestured inside.
Stranger pointed towards the light bulbs burning in the ceiling. “And the power? You don’t have a petrol generator?” He was pretty sure he’d have heard something like that, smelt the fumes at least.
“Oh no,” said Father Daniel stepping inside. Stranger followed. They were in a small office now. On the single desk was a computer monitor coated in a thick layer of dust that made it look like some relic, long abandoned inside a tomb.
“Then what’s your power source?”
Father Daniel sat behind the desk, gestured for Stranger to take the chair opposite. Even as Stranger sat down, Father Daniel opened a drawer and removed a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and two dusty glasses.
“For special occasions,” he said pouring two fingers into each glass. Stranger felt somehow dishonest but he took the dri
nk anyway, sipping gently at the warm liquor.
Father Daniel downed his own glass in one long gulp. “Sorry, I find its best not to get too used to the taste, only leads to disappointment.” He replaced the bottle then leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together. “Now then; power. Well, see Hobbie was a bit of an eco nut as well, wanted this place to be self sufficient. He had a choice: solar panels or wind turbines; he only had the money for one.” Father Daniel laughed. “We’re eternally grateful he didn’t opt for solar panels.”
He laughed again, and after a moment, Stranger joined him.
***
They talked for a while longer, about the way the world was, the way the world had been. Father Daniel didn’t question Stranger’s journey along the coast, where he’d come from, where he was going to, and Stranger was grateful for that. Eventually he said Stranger could take a walk around the compound, but that there’d be dinner served in a few hours and he was welcome to join them, welcome to stay as long as he liked.
Stranger offered to pay for the whisky, but Father Daniel waved the shotgun shell away, and said it was on the house. Stranger made him promise that he could at least pay for his meal.
He was given free rein to wander, but it wasn’t quite without oversight. As he walked across the compound he saw Ben, the young man still carrying his rifle slung over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, as he patrolled the courtyard. He didn’t exactly follow Stranger, but he never seemed far away.
Stranger tried to ignore his presence and took a walk along the jetty. It was a simple wooden affair, solid enough but lacking any frills. There was no lighting so he gradually walked into darkness, hearing muttered conversations behind him for a while, until the sound of the waves drowned them out.
The wind coming off the sea was cold, but he tugged his coat tight and kept walking. The jetty wasn’t long, but when he reached the end and turned around, he could no longer see any signs of life. He was barely twenty yards from warmth and light and companionship, but for all that, he could see he might as well have been standing on a tiny platform in the middle of the ocean.
He rested his hands against the topmost rail and stared out into infinity. Even after dark you still wouldn’t be able to see that far. With no stars and no moon you wouldn’t see a boat approach unless they were lit up, and the waves were loud enough that you wouldn’t hear them if they kept their engine low.
Looking down, he saw flashes of white as waves broke against the supporting pillars that held the jetty aloft. Not for the first time, a part of him considered how easy it would be to just end it. The barrier only waist high, he wouldn’t even need much effort to clamber over it. The water was so cold, and he was weighed down so much by his clothing and boots, that death wouldn’t take long. A short struggle followed by calm acceptance…and then maybe light once more.
He slipped his right hand inside his jacket, resting his palm against his chest, feeling the dog tags and the scar there, as the fingers of his left hand tightened against the wood. Then he turned around and walked back to what remained of civilization.
***
Dinner, as it turned out, was a daily chance for the entire population to get together, insisted upon by Father Daniel. Stranger understood the motive behind it, but the soldier in him despaired that no one was left on guard.
They ate inside the restaurant, the tables and chairs a garish red, the plastic still shiny and new in contrast to the building surrounding them; the walls were faded, with mold in the corners, cracks in the yellowed ceiling.
There was also light, and warmth, and company.
And food. Father Daniel hadn’t been lying, they really did have tomatoes. It wasn’t a feast, but compared to the usual fare on offer at such outposts, it was a banquet. A couple of slices of cooked fish, half a dozen tiny tomatoes, a few lettuce leaves, and a chunk of roasted meat that he couldn’t readily identify, but so long as it wasn’t human he didn’t mind; pig, dog, rat, it made little difference. There was water too; Hobbie, it seemed, had installed a small desalination plant before the darkness. Stranger wondered if the man had been psychic.
He counted twenty seven souls in total, not a lot, but a large enough population to give them a fighting chance. They were a disparate group, with a pretty even split in gender: fourteen male, thirteen female. They varied in ethnicity and in age, ranging from an old man who looked to be in his seventies at one end of the spectrum, to a pair of twin girls who couldn’t have been more than five years old at the other. The only other child was a boy who looked on the verge of hitting puberty. Stranger pitied him; his teenage years were going to be very different from what Stranger remembered of his own.
Another child was on the way though; a delicate Asian woman sat with one hand resting on an incongruous looking bump, the other linked tightly with the hand of young Ben. He, along with two other men, had left their M-16s leant up against the glass window—not needed for this daily celebration of community, but close at hand, just in case.
Stranger sat himself slightly apart; alone at his chosen table. He’d never been good with company. Mostly people left him to his own thoughts, either through wariness or politeness, but the twins kept looking his way then giggling and whispering to one another until the woman who was obviously responsible for them told them to be quiet. He doubted she was their mother. For one thing, the girls were white whilst the woman was Hispanic. There was no familial similarity either, and besides, she was sixty if she was a day. He wondered at their story: the Mexican housekeeper taking charge of the orphaned children of her wealthy employers?
He smiled. Everyone here would have a story, and it likely wouldn’t be what he expected. The two little girls had moved on now, no longer interested in the man at the back of the room; now they were instead playing with two iPhones, holding them up to their ears and talking to one another, then giggling some more.
The phones’ screens were cold and black, much like the world.
As disparate as the group was, they shared some common factors. They all had the same sallow complexions, and they all listened with rapt attention when Father Daniel started to speak.
It was a curious pulpit. He sat at the end of the counter, and instead of a lectern he rested several sheets of paper against the dusty cash register, though when he spoke he didn’t refer to them once.
“Another day has almost passed,” he began, his voice warm, gentle. “And for that miracle we thank almighty God.”
As one the group bowed their heads. “Thank you, God,” they muttered softly.
Father Daniel too had lowered his head. When he looked up his gaze met Stranger’s and he smiled. It was a look that said he knew Stranger hadn’t bowed his own head, but that this was Stranger’s choice, and he hadn’t taken offense.
“We have food in our bellies, and though it is cold and dark outside, we have warmth and light. And for those miracles we thank almighty God.”
“Thank you, God.”
Stranger glanced around the room. The light came from standing lamps positioned around the room, the warmth from several portable heaters. Stranger wondered if the congregation wouldn’t be better off thanking Hobbie.
“But in the midst of our thankfulness, we must also show humility. For God, in his infinite power, is the one who looked upon this earth and found it wanting, much as he did once before. And as in those times, he chose to punish mankind for its myriad transgressions. Where once the Lord flooded the world, this time he chose instead to deprive us of the sun; so let us also, in awe of his power, give thanks that the Lord chose us to survive.”
“Thank you, God.”
Stranger folded his arms and leaned back in his seat. In many ways the explanation made sense. Nobody, not even the Professor, knew with stone cold certainty what had caused the global blackout, although there were as many theories as there were probably people left. They ranged from the plausible—the super volcano that shattered Southern Africa and punched half a continent’s worth of dust
into the atmosphere—to the utterly ridiculous—that the Earth had been swallowed by a black hole.
Compared to the black hole theory, the wrath of God wasn’t too bad. But it had flaws. If the sun was gone, then they should all be dead. The fact that they weren’t suggested that the sun was still there, they just couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel its warming rays to the same degree.
He knew the Professor’s theory of course, he’d had to listen to the lecture often enough, had watched many times as the old man proved his point using the same old props. He had a globe that sat on his desk, one that glowed from an inner light, illuminating the continents and the oceans. He would drape over the globe a black chiffon scarf, the material so fine that you could just make out the glow beneath.
2013: The Aftermath Page 25
