by Devon Ford
But that was the thing here; she was just a child, a female one at that, and nobody asked for her opinion about the important things.
Of all the things she found strange being inside a safe enclave, it was the fact that others looked at her like a child again. Everyone who knew her would likely bet good money on her in a fight with most people, but everyone in Sanctuary wanted to treat her like a kid again.
She wasn't unhappy - far from it - but after the months of adrenaline and feeling like everyone needed her, she was bored. She had nothing to stimulate her brain. She didn't want to fish or play or do normal people jobs: she was a warrior, albeit an unorthodox one, and she craved the chance to do what she was trained for.
Dan was no help in that respect. He had wholly embraced their new lifestyle of comfort and safety and was completely obsessed with Marie’s ever-swelling belly. Leah knew that he should be, but he could at least pretend to agree with her that they should be allowed their weapons back. She was genuinely happy for them, and for herself too, but it stung a little that someone who wasn't even born yet took all the attention already. She remembered a time not too long before when Dan’s obsession was on the survival and protection of their group.
Feeling lost as she looked out over the ancient, high walls of the huge central keep, gazing out at a fishing boat struggling back into the protected bay against the choppy winter sea, her attention was pulled back to her only companion.
A loud yawn followed by a curious dance as Ash sought the perfect position to scratch his ear with his back foot brought a smile to her face.
“You bored too, boy?” she asked him. Ash answered her with a sudden stare until he let out a sneeze and shook his head in surprise at the confusion it caused him. A scratch of boot on stone made her turn sharply, ever alert, and reach instinctively for the worn hilt of the knife hidden in the back of her waistband. Framed in the archway at the top of a flight of stone steps stood an equally bored Mitch. He had been soldiering his whole life and the two shared a strange kindred spirit. They were equally unimpressed at being caged without even being allowed to organise adequate defences.
The subject had been raised to Polly, the curious and vague French-Canadian woman who seemed to run this place when she wasn't talking to herself. It had been summarily dismissed, but it was clear that the occupants of Sanctuary had not seen anywhere near their fair share of modern life. They had not been attacked, they had accepted anyone who turned up into their home and left it almost entirely undefended.
That wasn't strictly true, Leah allowed. The geography of this half natural, half man-made place was defence enough against all but the most determined and experienced attacker. However, that didn't stop her mind working overtime every morning when she came up to the highest central point to survey the whole bay and plan the defences she wished she could implement. It wasn't about being hostile towards others, not in her head at least, it was about not being a fool because there were plenty of people out there who had proven they would kill for even the most meagre stash of food. Sighing at the exhausting uselessness of arguing against the majority, she shot a sad smile at Mitch.
“Here again?” he asked her to fill the silence.
“Yeah,” she said, conveying every frustrating ounce of boredom she felt bearing down on her young shoulders and old soul.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked her, knowing the probable answer but interested to hear her articulate it.
Taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, she pointed to the gatehouse. “Twin machine guns on the gate, interlocking arcs of fire to smother the approach road.” Mitch nodded at the obvious suggestion. Pointing her other hand to the sky fort high above the road she continued, “Heavy gun up there trained on the road. Something a bit heavier if we can find it, explosives or something, snipers too, to cut off any retreat.”
“Not bad,” he responded, “what about a seaward attack?”
Turning to face the water she pointed to the watchtower firstly on the low sea wall, then to the one high on the cliff in the distance. “Crew-served gun there; it'll cut any boat to shreds. Distance might be a bit much for another one on the cliff, and a slightly wrong angle would hit the other gun position. Sniper there,” she said, squinting along her outstretched finger pointed at the tower on the high cliff opposite. “But their position is more tactical than defensive as it offers a full view of the valley; they will be our first warning of any attack.”
Impressed, Mitch agreed.
“Do you know who’s up there?” he asked.
“One old man from what I heard. That needs to change as it needs twenty-four hour cover. And some kind of comms system,” she finished, her sadness at feeling useless crushing her spirit once more.
“Cheer up,” Mitch told her, still smiling and changing the subject. “I’ve bagged us a trip outside the walls!”
Elated, the old Leah returned instantly. Her stance grew taller and more confident, prompting Ash to smarten himself up as though he sensed it was time to go to work.
Shrugging into her shabby vest after a hasty change of clothes, Leah tightened the Velcro sides and settled her equipment to make it more comfortable. Feeling the recurring stab of annoyance that she had to have her weapons issued to her by someone who didn’t have the first clue how to use them, she waited patiently at the inner gate as Mitch explained where they were going.
“Supply run to one of the farms,” he told her. “They haven't got much to harvest this time of year, so the flow of supplies reverses now. Just some basics, but there are nearly fifty people relying on us outside of the walls.”
Mitch had gleaned this kind of information as his own boredom had led him not to stare outwards wistfully, but to talk to everyone so that he could and learn the comings and goings of Sanctuary. He had casually suggested his offer of additional security, blaming their arrival as the cause for possible hostilities, and had made himself a sufficient nuisance to be given permission to tag along with a basic supply run.
~
In his inactivity, Mitch had learned a lot about their new home. The impossibly high walls between the two cliff faces protected a large bay, which in turn was protected on the seaward side by two other cliffs, one very high and the other little more than a sea wall culminating in a watch tower. The peaks surrounding them provided a stream which ran through the town and into the calm bay where fishing boats went out daily to bring in a new catch. The supply of fresh fish was eternal, and didn't rely on the weather to be so bountiful in contrast to one of the two farms they were visiting that day.
What had become quickly apparent was that Sanctuary itself wasn't the only place for survivors; it was the central hub. The safe place where the region’s inhabitants contracted to if threatened. It was a walled burgh like in feudal Britain where farmers brought their livestock when the Vikings landed on their nearby shores, and waited in safety until the threat went away. It was the main warren for a lot of rabbits, and one of the other burrows was their target now. From what he had gathered, there were two farms each about twenty miles inland. There was also the watch tower high on the far cliff overlooking their calm bay and no means to get to it other than to climb a steep track. There was also a camp set against the two huge wind turbines where a small team of engineers and their young apprentices stayed, making their daily checks of the machinery and teaching everything they knew to the next generation. The only other associated settlement was the sky fortress which overlooked the road to Sanctuary’s main gateway. Covering the only approach from a sickeningly high vantage point, the fort was accessible only one of two ways; by air, which was an unlikely option unless you had evolved to grow wings, or by the seven hundred stone steps cut out of the very heart of the mountains centuries ago. This tunnel led directly back to the guard post near the main gate, and resupplying the few lookouts who lived there had become very labour intensive. So much so, that they had ingeniously rigged a high-tensile cable between the main keep and the fort and o
perated a manual pulley system to bring up a large wicker basket of food daily. He had yet to summon the energy to visit the fort, and didn't look forward to the almost half a kilometre climb via the very long staircase.
All of these facts were filed neatly in his brain until such time as his fellow soldiers required a report, at which point he would succinctly recite everything he had learned. Until then, he was just glad for the fresh air and a small sense of purpose for his teenaged-ninja friend. As he settled his weapons and chambered a round, he looked at Leah to see her doing the same. She had regained the look he had become accustomed to; a look of watchful apprehension where he knew she could spring into action at a moment’s notice. His ribs and chest were still sore from the bullet which had slammed into his vest weeks ago, but the memory of his near-death did nothing to dissuade his need to be outside taking the fight to any enemy foolish enough to test the mettle of a British soldier.
Ash was at Leah’s side, and he doubted whether she had found the time to ask Dan’s permission to take the dog. Not that it matters, he thought, Dan had gone into some kind of social coma since they had arrived there and spent most of his time talking to Polly or the strange man who stayed in the highest tower of the keep. Mitch hadn't ventured into the social circle of French post-apocalyptic living much, other than to smile at a pretty woman who he had seen around the town more than a few times.
Loaded and ready, they fell in watchful step beside a horse-drawn cart as it began its ponderous journey inland.
L’ENCYCLOPÉDIE
“I don’t see how it’s possible though,” interrupted Dan for the third time.
Victor made a sympathetic face and tried to figure another way to form the sentence that the primitive Dan could more easily understand. At least he thought the face he made was sympathetic, almost everyone else thought it made him look smug and superior.
Victor was a professor of history who had found himself, for the first time, totally alone when disaster struck the human race. He had known where to go and what to bring, having spent some time during his doctorate discussing this very scenario, give or take a few minor variations, as a thought experiment for a future thesis paper. He was an expert in many fields. He held degrees which he had earned in Paris, in England and even attended Harvard on a scholarship. His research and work had taken him to every continent in the world and his knowledge was vast.
For all his intellect, though, he had never made a true friend and had never been physically tested until the day he found himself totally alone.
That said, his vast knowledge and high intellect stood for precisely nothing the first time he tried to actually do any number of things he felt over-qualified for, without the support network of a functioning society.
Opening his eyes and fixing Dan with a look, he tried one last time.
“As your friend Emma has explained to you, twice now in fact, the subject is quite simple. There are many things we cannot explain as we do not yet have the capability to test our theories and prove them as fact. But the best minds surviving the event,” meaning himself, “have agreed that, given what we know, this is our best working theory.”
His English was flawless and only barely accented, which Dan guessed was a product of having lived and studied in English speaking countries for years. Still, the man’s manner irked him and he didn't enjoy being spoken to like a child. Shooting a glance at Emma for backup, she tried to tell him again.
“From what we know,” she said in her small, nervous voice before clearing her throat and starting again, louder this time. “From what we know, some form of prehistoric pathogen was released by the science experiment and that rapidly became airborne and infected everyone on the planet. Some of us, obviously, are immune and the only thing we have in common is that all of us have undergone treatment involving anti-malarial drugs.”
“I get that,” Dan said with feigned patience. “I’m asking about the fact that some people can have babies and others can’t."
“Everyone can have babies,” said Victor, “at least those physically capable anyway. It’s just that our immunity has led to certain side effects.”
“Exactly,” said Emma, taking up the explanation again. “Whatever makes us immune can only be a mutation - like an evolutionary mutation: something so small as to never be noticeable unless something like, well, this, happens. Whatever makes us immune to the pathogen is rendered harmless by the mutation which, we’re guessing, was caused by our individual exposure to the drugs we were given. That mutation has to be in our blood because that is the cause of death for the foetus and mother in childbirth.”
Seeing Dan’s face drop to a look of cold hostility made her change her tone rapidly as she recalled he was hoping to be a father soon. “What I mean is,” she went on hurriedly, “that because they figured out what the problem was, they figured out a fix: during pregnancy our blood will thicken because of the mutation which makes us able to still be alive. That is both our cure and our curse because surviving the event is pointless unless the species can propagate.”
“You’re rambling,” Dan said quietly. Emma swallowed. He had clearly had his fill of science and wanted it put simply for him.
“Blood thinners, like Warfarin, given to pregnant women make having babies possible.”
“OK,” said Marie, who until then had sat in still silence behind her frustrated man. “So I have Warfarin and our baby will be born alive?”
Victor and Emma glanced at one another briefly.
“Yes,” they both said at once.
“There you go then,” she said, patting Dan’s leg and climbing to her feet. “Problem solved.”
Dan sat with his mouth open, wanting to know more about everything and feeling let down that Marie was happy to leave given the easiest of explanations.
Emma stood and walked out with her, leaving Dan to follow up in frustrated confusion.
“Dan, if you will, please?” said Victor behind him.
Turning, he saw the man gesturing to a chair. Clearly the professor wanted more from him. With a frustrated noise of resignation, he gave up on following the annoyingly satisfied Marie and sat heavily.
“Pointless,” Dan muttered to himself, prompting Victor’s eyebrows to raise in question.
“Africa. Crossing the Channel. Leaving home. All of it was bloody pointless when we could’ve figured this out anywhere,” he said, sounding more annoyed with himself than anything else.
“Life is about the journey, not the destination,” Victor said magnanimously as he eyed Dan.
Dan wasn’t in the mood for inspirational quotes, even if he suspected that articular one was a song lyric, and said nothing.
Rising from his own chair with a resigned sigh, Victor poured two glasses of the curious local liquor and handed Dan one as he sat down again.
“Do you know what the original encyclopaedia was?” he asked, changing the subject.
Dan sipped, and then fell back to sullen flippancy as his default setting.
“Was it the thing I used to copy my homework from?”
Victor smiled at the poor joke and deflected causally. “No, Dan. In 1751 Denis Diderot - a famous French philosopher - published the first volume of L’Encyclopédie. He intended it to be a safe repository of the knowledge of all mankind, if you like a time capsule for future generations in case the learning history of our species was eradicated. I believe that this is what has happened to us, no? Our world was dependent on fossil fuels, on the great power plants that supplied whole cities with power, and every person alive had the capacity to access any piece of knowledge they needed. Terrorists need to make a bomb? They learn how to do so on the internet. You need to know how to replace a part on your car? Look on the internet and follow a video guide showing you each and every step. The encyclopaedia was designed as just this; not just the knowledge of man but the means to replicate it. Do you understand?” He looked at Dan, his enthusiasm unveiled as though he were giving a lecture to just one man in
stead of a room of university graduates.
“Yeah,” said Dan, “it was an instruction manual for what we already know how to do.”
“Exactly this! So tell me, do you know how to make the weapons you are so skilled at using?”
Dan was annoyed at the theatricality of the question. Obviously he hadn't the first clue how to manufacture an automatic weapon, so he stayed silent assuming that the question was rhetorical.
“Of course you don’t!” Victor went on, proving Dan right again. “But do you know how to use it? Do you have, tucked deep inside your mind, the knowledge of how to show others the best way to use it?”
His thoughts drifted to Leah. To Lexi. To all the others he had taught how to shed their previous lives and become soldiers of necessity.
“Yes,” he replied simply.
“So if I collect your intricate knowledge of this, and combine it with the knowledge from elsewhere of how to make these weapons, then future generations can continue to use technology that is beyond their scope to discover. Do you see this, Dan?”
“Yes,” he replied again, “you want to get the skills that everyone has written down in your books so we don't lose any technology for future generations.”
Victor was pleased that this simple, yet frighteningly scarred man had grasped his concept so quickly. Beckoning the man he suspected to be a barely-evolved Neanderthal to the other side of his chambers, he presented a large book which bore Victor’s neat script on the open pages.
“And that is what I hope to do here, so I would greatly appreciate some of your time when I am available to pluck the knowledge from your mind and record it in my books.”
Dan stood, no longer willing to play along.
