by Matt Pike
We had nicknamed the meeting spot because some of the twisted remains of the building just looked like a creepy robot hand reaching out from the ash. You could not look at it and call it anything else. Certainly the entertainment centre fell well short as an apt description these days.
We were a couple of minutes early. Not by accident. Even though this seemed a genuine meeting place selected by someone we knew, you can never be sure. Besides, we already had one whole meeting with another group yesterday without getting shot at so, you know, how lucky could we possibly get?
Anyway, the chance to claim the space and get comfortable before we saw them approach seemed like the smart move. I guess if it was an ambush, they would’ve got there even earlier, but it was what it was, and we soon saw two figures approaching just as the sun glowed over the hills. Well, you don’t actually get to see that, but you kind of know through the gloom that that’s what’s going on as the light levels rise quickly.
We both recognised Kent’s odd gait and our relief was almost complete. I mean, they could have just sent him to kill us. Or her. He was accompanied by a woman. Still, our concern abated with each step. I mean, Kent is just goofy (no offense, if you ever happen to read this). Every move he makes just screams awkward (see above).
He smiled when they were close enough to make out facial expressions. Steph and I both saw it, but our attention was mostly directed at the female. She was mid-30s, pretty and had a warm smile - the opposite of a Norwood person in our minds. We knew at that moment we were completely safe.
Kent introduced her as Zoe after we’d finished giving him a two-person bear hug, much to his dislike. She gave a strong handshake, had a friendly smile and seemed genuinely pleased to meet us. What’s happened to this apocalypse?
Steph and I had a loose strategy to let them bring the information to us. Allow their words to guide the conversation, in a hope to find out far more than we gave away. It was an easy plan to execute, as our general sense of not knowing what was going on and feeling out of our depth pretty much carried us 90 percent of the way there.
Either way, it didn’t matter. They had a story to tell, so all we needed to do was listen, mostly.
Where do I start?
First of all, it was Norwood who prevailed over the TTP as they battled for our turf after we’d done a runner. Things are massively fractured there now. Norwood executed the TTP leaders, leaving the other survivors, along with Shane and Travis, in this half-prisoner, half-hard-laborer role.
Steph asked Kent how they’re going. “They’re doing OK,” he said.
Something in the way he said it gave me a sense the whole OK thing was very open to interpretation and Kent was putting a very positive spin on it. Steph definitely picked that up as well. She cried, smiled and nodded in this moment of chin up bittersweet acceptance that it was the best she was going to get for now. It was hard to watch.
I then asked Kent what happened to him, adding we thought he’d died. The short answer, from his very long answer, was that he freaked out when shit was getting real on the battlefield. He basically did a runner all the way back to the oval, climbed into one of his garden beds and curled up into a ball and cried. The Norwood crew found him the next day.
They grilled him for a while but he eventually convinced them to let him stay. “I don’t fight, I grow plants,” I think was the line that sealed his fate.
It’s a bit hard to know what to make of all that. I mean, this is Kent we’re talking about. It’s not like he has the hero gene. Even with our small numbers back at the battle, the best role we could find for him was running messages. And deep down in my heart, I know it was cowardly. Well, perhaps partly cowardly. Kent and those plants are almost genetically connected. That’s his part of the world, his creation and his mission in life. He’s just the type that’s not going to let banners or colours keep him from what he believes is his destiny.
Where was I? That’s right - there were 46 of these second-class citizens, as Zoe put it. That includes our two.
Right now, their main task is to reclaim Government House from its ash entombment - it’s a significant building, not far from the oval. Apparently the Fat Man wants it as his headquarters. That’s right, the Fat Man is still alive. He got out of that truck before the whole thing went up in flames. Not soon enough not to give him burns all up his arms and across his face. Apparently his face is pretty bad, like, bordering on freakish bad.
Good.
Something between the injuries, the battle and the situation at the oval has changed him. Like, something has broken in his mind. He’s holed himself up in the Ian McLachlan Room - our old war room. He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t speak to anyone outside his chain of command.
The chain of command thing seems somewhat core to how they operate. He’s the general (what a loser) and has three colonels. Then there’s a tier of lieutenants and a bunch of wannabes they order around. They control the guns and control Norwood.
I know I’m jumping around here, it’s just coming out as information comes back to me.
There are... and always have been… factions at Norwood.
Zoe hates him. Not just now, has always hated him. And she is far from alone.
Mind blowing.
Anyway, Fat Man has basically locked himself away from the world and is growing more and more unstable. He’s directing his minions to force the slaves to clear the ash from Government House so he can make it his new fortress - further away from the rest of the population at the oval.
Zoe is part of another group altogether. She’s an original Norwood survivor, but not a part of the Fat Man’s militia. She is part of the majority of the Norwood crew. They are without weapons and control, but are… I don’t even know how to process it all. They are part of the Norwood machine, but not. They are ordered to do what they do and comply. It’s all seemingly under duress, but I’m struggling with it all.
I’m going to park that line of thought there for a while as I process, because it’s complex, Zoe seems genuine, and this connection presents so many great opportunities, but when I balance that with what she was part of and what it cost me and the people I love, well, I can’t.
For now, I’m going to concentrate on the positives. Zoe and the others like her want the Fat Man dead. Whatever the balance that had kept them towing the line in that arrangement has now changed.
The problem is, they don’t know how to make it happen.
They don’t have a meaningful stash of weapons. They don’t have the ingenuity. Nor do I think they have the courage. They need us to do their dirty work, I guess.
Not that it was directly asked in our meeting, but it was definitely implied that our numbers and weapons would be a significant factor in any potential future battle.
There were a lot of ways to process all the information being sent our way. And, while I definitely trusted Kent - well, not in battle, but as a person - the same can’t be said of Zoe. Not that I didn’t trust her - she seemed on the level and was certainly taking a massive risk just coming here to talk to us. I’m more talking about what she represented. Sure, she claims to be a Fat Man hater but, even if that is true, she had still stayed with him a long, long time. She was part of the machine that killed so many people I’ve known. Fellow survivors just trying to stay alive. They killed people and destroyed communities.
My thoughts jumped between those huge losses, intrigue at this plan and thoughts about leaving it all behind and continuing with our relocation. But it was one thing Zoe said that made the only real path ahead crystal clear. “Are you interested in joining a plot to eliminate the Fat Man and his crew to claim the oval under a banner of a united city?”
That was one powerful statement. That was everything I’ve wanted since the moment I started to realise what Shane and I were creating at the oval really was. That got me in the core. Like, Kent and his plants. Once those words entered the air, it connected with a DNA level need for that to happen. I was in.
I looked at Steph, but there was already no doubt about her intentions. She would do whatever it took to get Shane back. I had a feeling there would be bonus points for inflicting revenge on those who kept him locked in chains along the way.
That was it. Our meeting was complete. They got the answer they came for. We became their secret new piece on the chess board. They were going back to speak to the others of like mind and begin working on a plan. We were told we’d be hearing from them shortly. In the meantime, the postal service would remain in operation.
Oh, we did let them know of our numbers, and survivors. Kent was not one to show much emotion, but the list of 13 names, and the bigger list of people we lost, got to him. He had a line of communication with the others and would be passing the information on first chance he got. He was hoping to get a message back from them to us on the next visit.
This was a good segue for Steph to hand him a letter she’d written to Shane. That alone was enough to bring a tear to my eye.
What we didn’t tell them about was the connection we’d made with the Goodwood aliens. I just didn’t feel the time was right to reveal that information yet. It was only a fledgling connection at best. Besides, Steph and I were both more than happy to let those in the Norwood camp come up with their own strategy. It would tell us a lot about them.
We hugged our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
*
Back at camp everyone downed tools to hear our story. Even recalling what they had to say made everything seem even bigger than when I was receiving the information. I think Nate summed it up best. He said it was like a game of Texas Hold Em poker. All the groups around the city had been playing with the two cards in their hand, betting on a strong hand or bluffing. The flop was the food and the big bets are being made.
The battle in the city was one of those - we lost. The trade move by Goodwood was one of those too. Significant cards are on the table now and everyone can see the future ahead. It’s bleak for most. They’ve survived long enough to get to the big table but most don’t have much of a hand or many chips left to play with.
The moves are going to get bigger from here. Everyone’s desperate and they can see the end coming. Food and water are going to dry up. Petrol, too, is going to become unusable. That means, right now, everyone aside from us and those at the oval know they’re doomed if they don’t do something big.
The oval has the most chips on the table, but their hand is weak. The best part is they don’t know we now know it, therefore they don’t know we know.
That leaves us second on the chips table and probably the strongest hand in the game right now. We have all the elements we need to stay alive, now and into the future, and we have a stable group. That is so far ahead of the Fat Man’s situation it’s not funny.
We also have the hovercraft. That gives us a range no one else can match, as well as access to the coast, which would take years to replicate for cars. This is the ace in our hand, hopefully. Other groups are reaching out to us because they are desperate and know we have things they need. All because we have always aimed to build for the future.
Anyway, the desperation the other groups are feeling is only going to get worse. Goodwood won’t be the only ones counting their supplies and looking at the winter ahead as make or break. I mean, the only way anyone is not concerned about that is if they have enough for now, winter and a reliable source or supply of food to last through spring, then a plan to have food production levels of grown food ready to pick up the slack on the other side.
It’s hard to see many in that position. I mean, are any? Which means things are going to unfold sooner rather than later. The flop has come and the real betting will begin.
Things are going to get very, very interesting very, very quickly.
If this is an apocalypse-sized game of Texas Hold Em, we still have two cards left to reveal - the turn and the river, according to Nate. I wonder what they will be?
*
In other news - and there’s plenty - things are really escalating around camp now the shelter is complete. It’s opened up a whole lot of hours to dedicate elsewhere. There is a crew working on the frigate. They were back for lunch and all I can say is I’m glad it’s not me. They look exhausted and apparently they’ve barely made a dent in the amount of ash they’ll need to shift, just to gain access to the deck.
Nate spotted another boat while fishing this morning. It was just drifting off the coast, barely visible through the gloom. It’s the perfect chance to give the fishing boat its maiden post-apocalypse voyage. He’s going to take a team out with him on a half fishing/half salvage operation. I have never seen a man more excited to do something than Nate thinking about jumping on a boat again.
Speaking of Nate, he’s refined his desalination system during the past few days and the water coming out is tasting a whole lot better. It’s not crunchy, for a start. Seriously, it’s pretty drinkable. I mean, there’s a distant taste of ash, but there is with everything you consume these days. It’s hard to tell if that’s actually what you’re consuming or just a thin layer of it that has permanently attached to your tastebuds.
Whatever the case, it’s now got everyone’s approval for consumption, so he’s going to start mass production. That means we’re going to need more pots to expand the capacity, plus containers to store the water - tomorrow’s shopping list. Of course, we’ll need to keep the wood flowing, too.
Also, Eliza has run the first experiment making ash bricks and the result is very promising. Basically, the ash was sourced from one of the dune digs. She got the real sticky/pasty ash that usually lays a foot or so under the surface, depending on conditions. It was kneaded around until it had the right consistency, then dried near the fire. Once dry it was put on a grill and placed on the hot coals to set for a few hours. Once cooled, it was solid. Like, brick solid.
So, it looks like that can go into production as well. We’re not entirely sure on how we will use the bricks yet, but they will be used. There’s hundreds of things we could construct if we had the materials. So, the next step is creating a system that can pump out bricks on a regular basis. She’s asked me to get some wood beams from the hardware store so she can make enough moulds to go into mass production. The moulds will help shape them as they dry, before they’re removed and placed near the coals to set. Step and repeat.
I like this idea a lot. It’s taking the most abundant resource around here and finding a use for it. It’s the perfect use as well, since real construction materials are one of the things in short supply near the coast. I mean, even the stuff we’ve recovered from the dunes is, well, odds and ends. Actually, using the ash to help build the future solves two of our biggest problems in one hit.
*
I took a few hours either side of lunch to spend time with Alyce. Just what we needed. It’s been one thing and the next for a long time, which takes its toll more than you realise until you step out of it for a while. This was definitely stepping out. It was the first time we were able to go for one of our walks without having Nate on the beach waiting to wolf whistle us or make some inappropriate comment on our return. Of course, what happens? Jonesy sees us, wolf whistles and makes an inappropriate comment. Seriously?
It’s all in good humour, though. But it is tricky. There aren’t many couples in our group, so you definitely don’t want to make a show of the connection you have. There’s also Steph. I’m very mindful of what she must be going through, missing Shane and all. She smiles when she sees us together, but you can see her mind ticking behind her eyes. Not that it’s awkward, but I’d rather just keep it all on the downlow. So, thanks for that, Jonesy.
He’s all but back to full independence and Kelly is already telling Ye-jun and I she’s good to go on missions again. It’s great to have the two of them up and running, but it’s definitely left Alyce and Angie at a loose end. Seemed like perfect timing to me with the brick and desal operations about to go to industrial levels.
I suggest
ed the idea to Alyce, only to find she was already talking to Nate about helping more. We then went and approached Angie to see if she was keen. Angie and Alyce had become really close over the last few days as they looked after our injured. They’re about the same age and both seem rather chilled out people. They work well together as well. It’s good to see Angie finding her place in the community both work and socially. She is really starting to heal. Anyway, she had volunteered herself before we’d even finished asking the question. That’s pretty exciting.
That reminds me of Jessie. I’ve been a bit gunshy taking him on missions since the Goodwood incident. Especially now things are only going to be escalating. I needn’t have worried about him, though; he’s taken to being Nate’s right hand man on all things fishing and water. He’s out in the boat with him at the moment. This is another win for bouncing back from trauma. It’s a slow process though, and Jessie is a lot quieter than someone like Angie, so I guess you never know what’s going on in his head. But he gets up early each morning when Nate wakes him and he does seem enthused by his role as a food provider.
I think, in general, the whole task we face down here is helping all of us recover. We’re building, literally, our future. It’s given each of us something meaningful to fill our days and some significant achievements to celebrate. We are working for ourselves and each other. I’m sure that building a new world is symbolic of our mental states. As more things start to take shape around here, a little bit more of the hurt starts to heal.
It’s rewarding when you feel that making a difference within yourself. Moreso when you see someone like Jessie or Angie go through the same process.
*
I went out to see how the frigate dig was going this afternoon. Or the digate as it’s being called. Well, there were other monikers given to the task, but they didn’t sound anywhere near as positive as digate. I suspect their usage will become vastly more popular as this project drags on.
Everything about the situation is supersized. The ship, the rewards it offers and the amount of ash needed to be shifted to get there. I remember the effort it took to extract a handful of cars from a ramp of ash in North Adelaide and there is possibly 1000 times more ash involved here. The car dig took the better part of three days to complete. Sure, it was far more delicate than this needs to be, but still, the work involved is astronomical.
