2013: The Aftermath

by Shane McKenzie

  “That’s what has happened to us, Steven,” the Professor had said the very first time. “Do you have any concept of the calculations, the technology that was needed to do this? To cut us off from the sun, yet allow just enough energy through that we didn’t completely die out as a species?” And this was usually the point where he’d quote HG Wells. “Minds immeasurably superior to ours, Steven. Immeasurably.”

  In hindsight, Stranger realized that God’s mind might count as immeasurably superior. Not that the Professor would ever countenance such a thought.

  “Tomorrow,” said Father Daniel now, standing at last. “Ben will lead a party back to Sefton Falls; let us all bow our heads to ask God for a safe journey for those making the trip, and a fair bounty for us all.”

  Sefton Falls was the nearest town, about ten miles inland, as Father Daniel had explained earlier. The road there was straight, so even in darkness it wasn’t overly difficult to get to, and the party would travel by bicycle, with pedal powered lamps aiding their journey. The danger came from roving gangs of brigands, or packs of wild dogs whose vision was far better suited than humanity’s to the long night.

  By all accounts the town had long since been stripped bare, yet somehow each time the group ventured out they found something useful to bring back, even if it was only firewood.

  After the prayer for those who would make the journey, Father Daniel dismissed everyone with a smile and a simple benediction.

  “God chose us.”

  Some people drifted off, Ben and the other two guards amongst them, Stranger noted, taking their rifles with them. He wondered if they had any other rifles, wondered what their ammunition situation was like.

  “Penny for them?”

  He looked away from the doors through which Ben and the others had passed to find Father Daniel smiling by his side.

  “I’m sorry. I was distracted. Just wondering…”

  Father Daniel’s smile widened. “About whether to stay with us?” He didn’t say the words too loudly, but still Stranger noticed a middle-aged woman with straggly, red hair pause and look their way upon hearing them, nervous hope in her eyes.

  Somehow Stranger managed to smile at her, then he transferred the grin to Father Daniel; the act was almost painful. “I guess.” He nodded. “I’ve been walking a long time, never found anywhere like this before.”

  A lie of course. There were many such communities. Although most had names like Hope or Salvation, Hobbie’s made a refreshing change.

  “We are a small community, with limited resources, but not so limited that we would ever turn someone away who might benefit us.” His eyes narrowed. “You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

  Stranger nodded. “A long time ago, but you don’t ever forget the training.”

  Father Daniel nodded. “I thought so. Your skills might be of use to us. We don’t see many people, but there’s always the fear, that those better armed, those with weight of numbers, might take what we have.”

  “And would it matter that I didn’t believe a word of what you just said?”

  Father Daniel took him by surprise, because he laughed. “Half of them don’t believe me either.” And he jerked a thumb in the general direction of the few people who’d remained inside the cafeteria. “What matters is that they understand that it’s necessary. Hope, you understand?”

  “I do,” said Stranger. More than you know.

  The other man clapped his hands together. “Night will be falling, and we need to shut off the heaters and lights in here to conserve power. There’s not much heat in my office, but perhaps the whisky will keep us warm as we talk some more, eh?” and he winked.

  Stranger chuckled. “I thought you saved that for special occasions.”

  He winked again. “I think this counts.”

  ***

  They carried on talking as they walked across the courtyard, back to the office building. Father Daniel had explained earlier that it was mainly used as sleeping quarters and for storage, although people had made homes throughout the compound—aside from the toilet block.

  Dusk was fading rapidly, darkness eating what little light there was. Soon it would be impossible to see from one side of the courtyard to the other without the light bulbs positioned sparsely upon each building.

  With night came cold, a biting chill that seemed to gnaw right through a person, no matter how warmly he was dressed.

  “Is it just me, or is it getting colder?”

  “It’s not just you,” said Stranger as they approached the office door. “I’d say it was winter, but…”

  “But it’s July.” Father Daniel paused. “Or is it June? Hard to keep track isn’t it?”

  Stranger nodded. “It is. Definitely summer though.”

  Father Daniel looked up. “Gonna be a bitch of a winter, isn’t it?”

  Stanger assumed the question was rhetorical and didn’t reply. Instead he changed the subject. “Do you really think God did this?”

  The other man smiled, a sad, wry expression. When he spoke his words surprised Stranger. “Does it matter, really?”

  Stranger shrugged. “I guess not.”

  Father Daniel started walking again, and Stranger fell in step beside him. “What matters is hope, like I said.” They’d reached the office door, and in a few seconds, they were inside.

  The other man had been right, it wasn’t particularly warm inside, but the lack of wind at least made it feel a darn sight better. The single bulb in the ceiling took an age to warm up, but something stopped Stranger from making use of the darkness. Some need to keep talking.

  “That’s better.” Father Daniel had taken his seat again. He made to open the drawer but Stranger stopped him.

  “Why not leave the whisky till we’ve run out of things to say?”

  “Capital idea.”

  Stranger moved his chair so that they no longer had the desk between them. “You were talking about hope. Wouldn’t it be better to be honest with them?”

  Father Daniel shook his head. “What good would that serve? At the moment many of them believe that this is the work of our Lord, and that in itself promises deliverance that wouldn’t be there if this was some natural event. God flooded the earth, but he also caused the waters to eventually recede. The idea of something similar happening here gives people reason to wake up in the morning.”

  “I understand. But do you ever think maybe it isn’t enough? I mean no disrespect, but…”

  “But why should we bother?” The other man chuckled. “Life is the Lord’s ultimate gift, even in this brave new world.”

  Father Daniel’s optimism was cheering and infuriating in equal measure. Stranger wanted to burst his balloon, partly to bring him down to his level, but partly because he thought this pious man might actually be able to rise to the challenge, and Stranger hadn’t felt a lot of hope lately.

  “Hope won’t last forever.”

  “Oh I know.” Father Daniel looked sorrowful now, as if the weight of what remained of the world was on his shoulders. “At the moment we still have comforts.” He gestured to the dim bulb. “Light, heat, clothes, books, the food our hydroponic garden produces, vitamin tablets... We even have a television set up, watch DVDs, though not too often; it makes people maudlin.

  “But all of those things are finite. Light bulbs will burn out, machines will rust, plants will only survive so long… Now don’t get me wrong, I think people will survive, but the more time passes…” he shrugged. “Well I guess the less like people we’ll become.”

  “It’ll get so we’re primarily carnivores, little better than savages,” said Stranger. He smiled. “And you think there’s hope?” He hadn’t meant the words to carry as much disdain as they did, but Father Daniel didn’t seem offended.

  “Of course, and more than hope there’s duty. I meant what I said. We were chosen, we’re special, and with that comes responsibility. To survive, to retain our humanity as long as we can, so that if the sun ever does rise again t
hen it doesn’t rise over cavemen. We owe it to everyone that died, to remember them. Black, white, Catholic, Muslim, Hindu, Atheist…” He made a big show of wafting his hands in the air. “Every single one of them.”

  Stranger couldn’t help it. He smiled.

  For several minutes after that neither spoke. Stranger was waiting for Father Daniel to suggest it was time for the whisky, but eventually he continued.

  “I have one question to ask…well, a couple.” And he held two fingers up.

  “Fire away.”

  He leaned forwards, eyes narrowed, boring into him. “Stranger?” he said at last.

  Stranger grinned. “It’s a call sign that kinda stuck. My name’s actually Steven, and once upon a time, I was a ranger.” He shrugged.

  “Ah, I see. Should I call you Steven?”

  He shook his head. “Friends call me Stranger.” Now it was his turn to lean forwards. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you Hobbie?”

  Father Daniel let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Ah, well there in might lie a tale. One for another night, I feel. We shouldn’t share all our secrets tonight.”

  “I guess not.” Stranger faked a smile, but in truth he was disappointed that he’d never get to know the answer. “You said you had two questions.”

  His eyes sparkled. “Ah yes. I was wondering if your finding us was by chance, or if someone directed you this way.”

  Stranger nodded towards the drawer. “Get the whisky out and I’ll tell you.”

  Father Daniel rubbed his hands together. “Life is all about small pleasures,” he said and turned to lean down to the drawer.

  “Rolf told me where to find you.”

  Father Daniel had the drawer open and was rummaging around inside for the bottle and glasses. He paused, his head tilting up a fraction. “Rolf? I don’t remember a traveller called Rolf.”

  “Oh you wouldn’t have seen him,” said Stranger.

  And then he struck. Father Daniel was off balance, and so he went down easily. In a heartbeat Stranger had looped an arm around the erstwhile preacher’s neck, while his knee jabbed into his back. There’d been a crash as they landed on the floor, but with the roar of the wind outside, Stranger was hoping it hadn’t carried. The other man was stronger than he looked, but Stranger was the stronger, and he had the advantage of position, not to mention training.

  Father Daniel struggled, but Stranger kept the pressure taut on his neck until he stopped fighting and gave in to oblivion…then he waited a few seconds more to be certain. It wouldn’t have taken much to break his neck, but murder had never been Stranger’s plan.

  As he released his grip on the other man, he was poised to tighten it again if need be, but Father Daniel showed no sign of consciousness. Stranger removed his arm and knelt back on his haunches. He flexed his fingers for a few seconds before curling them into tight, angry fists, wishing he could pummel himself for what he’d done.

  Another few seconds and he’d relaxed enough to check for a pulse. The artery in Father Daniel’s neck throbbed healthily, and Stranger relaxed a little more. Gently he positioned the man so he was lying on his front. Already his neck was bruised, but there should be no permanent damage, the sleeper hold had been tight enough to make him pass out, no more. With luck he’d be long gone before Father Daniel awoke, but even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to tie and gag the man.

  Time was of the essence, yet Stranger spent several minutes in the office before picking up his rucksack and stepping through a second door that led deeper into the building. The corridor was dimly lit, empty. Stranger moved quickly, yet cautiously, well aware that however well trained he was, he was unarmed.

  There was a staircase at the end of the corridor, three doors on either side. He checked each in order, turning the handles with agonizing slowness, before easing them open.

  The first was obviously someone’s quarters; he heard voices when the door was open just a crack and he eased it shut again. The second door opened into darkness that his torch revealed was a closet filled with box upon box of light bulbs. The third door opened into another darkened room, this time his torch revealed pay dirt. He stepped inside and gently closed the door.

  Torchlight revealed a light switch and he was relieved to find it worked; it would make his appraisal easier.

  The room was six foot square, windowless. Wooden gun racks were fastened to the wall opposite the door. To the left were lockers that looked like they’d been liberated from the local high school judging by the proliferation of faded stickers plastered all over them.

  He made a quick mental inventory: pump action shotguns, lever and bolt action rifles, plus another three M-16s. A dozen weapons in all racked there. He selected one of the M-16s. It was fitted with a twenty round magazine but upon inspection it was empty. Stranger leaned the rifle against the wall and moved on to the lockers, ears attuned for any sound of alarm.

  The first one had hooks bolted to the inside from which hung a selection of revolvers and semi automatics. There were ten in all, an eclectic mix of make and model, his Smith & Wesson amongst them. He left it there and opened the lower locker. This one contained a haphazard collection of knives. His KA-Bar was atop the pile and he retrieved it, sliding it back into its sheath.

  The next locker was perhaps half filled with boxes of ammunition. Stranger checked the one below it. Empty. He checked the others, all similarly void. Returning to the only ammunition, he did a rough calculation. A couple of hundred rounds, if that, and spread across perhaps ten or eleven calibers.

  He sighed. In terms of weapons, Hobbie’s was quite well provisioned, but in terms of ammunition, they were not. Unless there was another stash elsewhere, the amount of bullets wouldn’t last long in a prolonged battle. No wonder Father Daniel had welcomed someone with combat experience.

  Stranger would leave his .45, and the contents of his rucksack, short of his torch, but it was a poor exchange, and he felt guilty as he opened up a box of .223 shells and loaded the M-16.

  Armed now, with both a weapon and the information he’d come for, Stranger turned off the light and stepped out into the corridor, almost walking smack bang into Ben.

  The young man managed to stop himself before he blundered into Stranger, and for a moment, he was apologetic, his lips opened and he started to say he was sorry, the words dying in his throat when he saw the assault rifle in the older man’s hands. His own weapon was slung over his shoulder, he made a move to grab for it, but paused as his eyes met Stranger’s, and he saw something there. Something that told him he was as good as dead if he tried.

  “Wise move,” whispered Stranger. He hefted the rifle. “I have no desire to hurt you.” He paused. “Unless I have to,” he added. “You’re going to take the rifle off, slowly, and put it on the ground.”

  Ben complied. As he crouched to lay the weapon on the floor he looked up pleadingly. “Don’t hurt Nancy.”

  “Nobody’s getting hurt here tonight.” Inwardly he winced, thinking of the peaceable man he’d rendered unconscious not ten minutes before.

  He ushered the young man into the first storeroom, the one filled with light bulbs. It was a tight squeeze but there was room enough to close the door on him. Ben looked terrified as darkness closed about him, but Stranger paused with the door open, just a crack. “Listen very carefully, Ben. You’re going to count to a hundred, then bang and holler for all you’re worth.” His eyes narrowed. “But not till a hundred, you understand?”

  “I understand,” stammered the young man.

  Stranger closed the door. There was no lock, so he wedged the butt of Ben’s rifle under the door handle. It was pretty feeble, and likely Ben wouldn’t need rescuing, because once he started banging on the door it would slip, but Stranger figured that would be a while yet. He knelt to remove the magazine from Ben’s M-16; faintly he could hear him counting. He was going fast, but he’d still only reached fifteen.

  S
tranger checked the magazine. It held just two rounds. Wearily he skidded it down the hall. Ben had reached twenty five now. Stranger ran.

  He passed through the office quickly; Father Daniel was still on the floor but a reassuring groan came from his prone form as Stranger passed. Out in the courtyard again, he held the rifle ready, in case he needed to threaten anyone else.

  The courtyard was silent, empty; as he’d guessed earlier, he could only just make out the far side. The halogen bulbs positioned there might as well have been birthday candles for all the light they threw off. He jogged slow for fear of tripping on the edge of one of the picnic tables, his eyes dancing left and right, seeking any movement in the weak shadows.