“I could have done that,” Derek mused as Lorraine came around the corner. “Lorraine! Tell me you have some tea on.”
“I do,” she answered. “Good heavens, Derek, what happened?”
“It’s messy out there,” he answered.
“Ah, Derek, just the person I’m looking for,” said Sheridan as she walked down the stairs and she stopped once she caught a better look at him. “What in the name of hell happened to you?”
“Don’t ask. I’ll wait until we’re altogether so I don’t have to repeat it.” he answered, shaking his head. “What did you need?”
“Has anyone checked the roads east?” she asked.
“I’m heading that way soon,” he answered. “Right after I’m sure that the others can fend for themselves. Do you need me to look for something specific?”
“The usual,” she answered.
With Sheridan it always came down to the same thing—medical supplies. Thankfully they had not needed to test what limited capability their little clinic had but Sheridan was determined to make sure they were well prepared. He was very inclined to favour her determination but he had another reason to head out in the next few days.
Certain other supplies were running low and he also wanted to see for himself what had become of the city to their east. He dreaded to think of what he could find given that no one had tried to contact them or come out this far since Christmas more than four months ago.
It had only been two weeks since he finally had a clean bill of health from Sheridan. He followed her into her office and hopped up onto the table to let her examine him.
Twenty minutes later Derek walked up the stairs, noting that his energy levels were by far better than they had been in the recent weeks. He could still feel Sheridan’s gaze on his back but he felt back to normal. The door to his and Marissa’s room closed behind her and she leaned on the wall.
“I am better,” he said before Marissa had a chance to even ask him.
“I know you’re better,” she snorted as she rolled her eyes. “I had thought we agreed that you would be more—theoretical rather than practical for the time being.”
“Well, we did,” he said. “I’m fine, Reese.”
“You feel absolutely fine?” she asked again, warily. “No rasping, coughing or difficulty breathing? No sign of a sore chest?”
“Not one bit. I’m cold though, and I’d like out of these clothes,” he answered.
“Oh, sorry, by all means!” she moved out of the way as he walked into the ensuite.
He wasted no time in peeling off the wet layers and carefully laying them to the side where they would not make more of mess than he had already made by walking up here in the first place. A hot bath immediately preceded by a hot shower would have been stellar, but without electricity there was no hot water or any way to pump it up from the supply.
Thankfully, many of the homes in the area were independent of the city water and sewer. Getting to the rest of normal living would hopefully be as simple as priming pumps and turning them all back on. Once they had power. He also knew better than to expect it to be that easy.
Getting the power was the issue.
It was then that he noticed that the outside was almost dark and grey, but the house was brightly lit. He looked up at the light on the ceiling that he had flipped on without a second thought when he came out from the ensuite, his mouth dropped open in shock and he started to laugh. Wrapping a towel around himself, he ducked his head outside the door.
“Reese, how did they get the power back on?”
Marissa looked at him, smiling. “Sheridan had a few of her grandfather’s books on electrical wiring in her library. Jeremy spent all winter studying them. Mr. Computer Sciences may not be an electrical engineer but he had to know enough of the basics to be able to take apart a computer. It’s just enough to turn the inside of the fridges and freezers cold and heat up the water in the tanks. He and Shiloh had everything insulated twice-over so that when the power goes back off we aren’t left without.”
“I can take a hot shower then?” he asked gleefully.
“A short one, but yes,” she answered with a chuckle. “Hang on, I’m joining you. No sense wasting the water.”
The short reprieve of real and working electricity ended not even two hours after all of Derek’s scouts had their chance to finally enjoy hot showers. The tanks were then given a chance to fill and heat up again.
Knowing that the various fridges and freezers were up and running again made the worry of how to store fresh food lighter. Life still had not completely returned to normal; he couldn't open or close the fridges freely without losing the cool within. The storage concerns had been mostly alleviated.
Derek and his various scouts sat around the large dining room table on the main floor of the house. Maps of the region were scattered around the table for them to look through.
Sudbury had not been a small city before everything came to a crashing halt. The people and neighbourhoods nestled anywhere houses could be built in between the craggy mountains, dips in the valleys, and in between the numerous fresh water lakes, swamps and rivers that made up the area. Also the natural challenge was that it was firstly, and fore mostly, a city completely based off of the mining industry which meant there were also numerous mines, smelters—and tailing ponds—around the city.
This should make for some interesting navigation issues, thought Derek. Especially on horseback.
“So, who’s taking horses and who isn’t?” asked Abigail.
Abigail was an interesting woman to say the least. She had not come from within their community but from outside it. Derek was partial to her and was more than willing to admit that it was because she had saved his life from drowning in the river. Since being sick, he had not had a real chance to really get to know her outside of the fact that her survival skills were on a par with his.
Her sales skills were abysmal, but that was not surprising given that she was not into sales at all—even before the end of civilisation. Abigail had been a bush pilot grounded by the ever-increasing price of fuel to get her planes and helicopters in the air. It was clear that she strongly preferred to be in the bush and only came to the city to resupply or pick up passengers to fly them further north or into other, more remote, locations.
“Depends on comfort and riding level,” he answered. “I won’t make anyone ride a horse if they can’t ride. We’ll just get them to keep closer to the farm. But anyone who wants to come with me should be a fairly proficient rider.”
“You’re not leaving me behind,” said Marissa.
Abigail put up her hand. “Nor me.”
He nodded and looked around. “Anyone else?”
The others shook their heads and opted out. “All right.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I won’t push but I wouldn’t mind knowing why.”
“I suck at riding,” admitted one of them sheepishly.
“Scared of horses,” admitted another.
He looked around at the other two who had not answered and could see why. They were of that age where travelling a great distance and roughing it on top of everything was not the most comfortable prospect. Every now and then with the opportunity to be able to retreat back to someplace warm, dry and with a soft bed… that was more to their liking.
Sheridan was looking at him like he should perhaps think along the same lines.
But he just could not. Not yet.
Too many people are dead, he thought. Not just strangers anymore—but family and friends. I need to know why.
He had to know what brought all of this down for his own curiosity and the only way he could ever find out was by heading straight to Sudbury and to one of the news studios. He knew this was dangerous as it meant going straight into what had once been the centre of the city to the CBC radio station. He looked over at his wife Marissa who had no idea what he was planning to do and for a moment he felt a bit guilty.
There was no question about ju
st how dangerous what he wanted to do was. There were three locations that he wanted to gain access to that he had a sneaking suspicion would have the answers he needed and they were all downtown.
The first one was the CBC radio station. All national, regional and local news went through there first. If anyone had heard anything about anyone that would be the first place to check. The problem was that the CBC station, and office, was located almost in the dead centre of the city’s downtown core. He would have to negotiate a sizable distance on foot if he had any chance of getting in, and back out, alive if those who survived had become less than hospitable.
There was a chance—albeit minute—that those who survived were friendly. All he had to do then was make polite contact but reality was that likely those who survived were not the friendly.
The other two places he figured the information he wanted could be in was City Hall—also downtown and not that far from the CBC—and just maybe within the Ontario Shared Services office inside the downtown mall.
The problem was that they were all downtown.
While cutting through the centre of the city would shorten their trip, it was still far safer to go around the city rather than through it. It was also far more likely that there were friendlier settlements of survivors than in the core of the city.
One such route was drawn on the map in erasable marker on the plastic sheet overlaid it. The route followed the old highway between Panache Lake Road and Copper Cliff. It was one thing to say they were riding to Copper Cliff but a whole other to look at it on the map and realize that that one part was likely going to take a few weeks. They had over fifty kilometres to traverse and the terrain would not be easy—nor would they be able to do this quickly.
Half of the journey would be just to get to Lively. With a sigh he realized that this expedition would probably be turned back at Lively and Copper Cliff.
But they still had to try. He would not simply throw his hands up into the air and give up on it. They just had to agree on how they were going to do this.
“I say this first trip takes us to see what we’re up against,” suggested Abigail, voicing his concern. “Once we have a real idea of what’s out there we can properly gear up and really attack whatever it is you feel we need to find on the other side of town.”
Marissa nodded her agreement.
With a sigh, Derek nodded his agreement. Being stupid about things never got anything accomplished. Usually, quite the opposite, if it did not simply result in someone’s death. “All right, so, now that’s settled what about our route?”
“Most direct path to Lively is through Whitefish,” answered Abigail. “And, take my word for it, there’s nothing up that way. At least I didn’t see anything on my way down the river. Even the reserve was quiet.”
“We should tell Sheridan that,” said Marissa, looking at Derek. “She’s been worried sick about her Aunt and no one has been able to get over there to check on that half of her family and no one came from there to us…”
Marissa paused, chewing on her lower lip. Derek knew she was remembering the winter and their discoveries of the people within houses who had simply frozen to death. He had no doubt they would find more death within any other homes they happened across. It was by pure luck that they had even managed to survive the winter.
“—And what?” asked Abigail.
“Did you go into any of the homes you came across on your way down the river?” asked Derek.
“A few,” she answered and then she turned somber herself. “Oh.”
The other scouts wandered off, leaving the three with the longest and more organized trek to plan their expedition. Some did not wander too far, ending up at the counter for Lorraine’s tea.
“I realize it doesn’t need to be said, considering the present company,” said Derek. “But supplies… what are we taking and what are we leaving behind?”
“If we’re taking horses we need to think about their needs as well,” pointed out Marissa.
Derek nodded in response. “I had remembered that. Considering the length of the trip, I think we need to pack as if we’re camping with horses. A good tent with a rain cover that can serve as our camouflage to hide our camp. Cooking and water purification…”
“Goes without saying,” agreed Abigail.
He nodded and then sighed. “All right then. Let’s start packing what we’ll feel we’ll need in the garage. Lay out where we have space and where it won’t get disturbed and start packing it up.”
* * * * *
The little community centre just across the road from the shore of Long Lake was full to the brim with people that day. Russell and Adrienne sat near the back and watched.
“I say we should still decide things democratically,” pointed out an older man loudly. “Who cares if the outside world isn’t. Doesn’t concern us!”
“What if we’re overruled?” shouted another.
“We’re still our own damn town—capable of deciding what goes on here!”
The argument devolved into bickering and Adrienne sighed, standing up and wading between them in order to break it up. Russell lost sight of the finer details of how she did it but the two were quickly pulled off as she stood in between them.
“Are you two seriously arguing over that?” she asked. “Grow up. We know we’re our own town, and being overruled is a puerile reason to worry about a democratic vote. Just shut up and do it… and if you’re so determined to lead, put yourself forward as a candidate.”
They grumbled as they moved off to the side.
A tall man came up and said, “Thank you, young woman.”
“You’re welcome.”
Moments later Russell pushed through the crowd, whooping with joy as he did so. Adrienne and the tall man stared at him.
“Russ—I’m glad to see that you’re alive,” the tall man grinned.
“Uncle Kirk,” breathed Russell. “I had given up hope of seeing family again.”
Adrienne looked from one to the other and then asked, “You two know each other?”
“This is my Uncle, Kirk McTaggart… he’s the one that lives near the Four Corners.”
Adrienne made the connection immediately and smiled, shaking Kirk’s hand. “As in the uncle you were trying to get to?” she confirmed, and he nodded.
“Any chance you know if anyone else made it?” asked Kirk.
Russell’s smile slipped and Adrienne looked down and away. Kirk immediately sighed and closed his eyes. “Who?”
“Daniel,” answered Adrienne. “We managed to raise him by radio a few days ago but he died—we think—while we were still talking to him. He… he said he had been at City Hall and he asked about Sheridan.”
Russell looked around but he didn’t see anyone with Kirk that he could recognise. “What about you?”
Kirk shook his head. “Your aunt didn’t survive the winter, and your cousins… well, I know where one could be, but I have no idea if he managed.”
“Which one?” asked Russell.
“Oh, Brant went over to the university. When the weather turned really bad he decided to stay there since the para-buses… or any buses… were not running,” he answered and sighed. “As for my other two sons… I have no idea.”
* * * * *
Evenings were turning into a relief instead of the harrowing worry of how they were to survive the night. Did they have enough heat to make it through? Would someone die of hypothermia… or worse yet suffocation in the effort to stay warm enough to live?
Finally, as the days grew longer and warmer the evenings did as well.
Despite the lack of light, dawn and twilight had become Shiloh’s favourite times of day. They were when she could get the most work done while no one was in her way and the horses were neither too warm nor too cool.
The barn closest to the house was where Sheridan had ordered all the best horses—and the breed her farm was famous for—to be moved to. The outlying barns were reserved for horses and other l
ivestock that they happened to find or had been originally boarded there.
It was not as if the owners were going to suddenly return one day.
This barn held the horses that Sheridan decreed would carry her cavalry and knights, if such a time came to pass. Terrence was adamant they needed a trained fighting horse—a horse bred for war with a steady, intelligent mind and fit body to carry an armoured fighter on its back.
It was an unfortunate necessity to even entertain it.
The first thing she needed to do was pick the strongest, but nimblest, of her horses. The spirited and intelligent ones. However, she also needed to make sure they were also the least likely to startle. This was the more difficult task and some things would end up being traded off for others.
With a sigh, she ended up at the end of the row and walked over to the stall, running her hand along the horse’s neck as he leaned into her touch. If Sheridan needed these gentle creatures to be turned into war horses Shiloh did so under protest, and conversely with great pride.
If any horse was well suited for these demands, it was those she currently cared for.
This was just the tip of the iceberg… Shiloh had still not heard from anyone. Her father—now the first priority for everyone because of his usefulness—was at least on everyone’s minds because of how much they needed him here.
“Hi,” came a soft voice from behind her.
Shiloh turned and blinked in surprise as Jeremy walked in behind her and rubbed a hand on the neck of the horse she was grooming. “What brings you out here?” asked Shiloh.
“My wife does,” answered Jeremy. “It’s late and she should be in the house… perhaps even in bed.”
“I have to take care of the horses.”
“They’re already taken care of fine enough,” he pointed out, and when she rolled her eyes and turned back to the horse he sighed heavily. “Derek is going through Coniston, you know.”
Shiloh turned her head so that she could see him through her peripheral vision. “He is?”
“Yeah, while they didn’t expressly state they were looking for Michael and Shiloh, he did state that since they were in Coniston anyway…”
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