by Millen, Dawn
Mum, Helen and I head for the kitchen where the kettle is on the fuel stove and Mum makes a pot of real tea. She has hoarded this for special occasions and today she counts this as an emergency. Mum’s first aid treatment for all things revolves around a cup of tea and she dispensed them liberally when she was able to get the tea. Now she grows, dries and blends herbs to make teas for many of the families in the village. We sit at the old kitchen table and sip from the mugs of tea that Mum pours.
Helen’s eyes are clouded with worry. "I fear that we will not be able to help Sally heal her mind. I have never treated a 17 year old for such traumatic injuries let alone the injuries to her mind." She says her quiet voice catching in her throat.
"I’ve never had to deal with this either." I say gently and reach out to touch her hand as it lies on the table.
"We can only do what is possible and work through this the best way we can." Mum joins the conversation.
"What scares me though is the fact that this could happen again and be any one of the women in the village." Helen’s voice is filled with worry.
"I’ve already thought of that and it scares the hell out of me." I say quietly.
"We are going to have to make sure none of us are ever alone and that no one goes far from the village unless they are armed or have armed guards." Mums voice is determined.
"I’m just so glad that Steve and Gavin were aware of the outside world and have already started preparations for this sort of thing." I state quietly and confidently.
"What preparations?" Helen asks quickly, her voice rising.
"They have already started to build an armoury and are making and collecting the weapons we might need. Raymond has been making things in the forge for at least six months and Richard has been designing and making light bows for the women who have no shooting skills." I tell her quickly.
"How long has this been going on and why did your father not tell me?" My mother asks.
"Dad would not have told you because he was sworn to secrecy. We all were Mum, so don’t blame him please. We knew there was a chance that this sort of thing could happen, but did not want to scare people so have kept some of the things the boys have done quiet." I explain to Mum, putting all the sincerity I can in my voice.
"How bad do you expect things to get?" Helen asks quietly, worry catches her voice and her face is drawn and scared.
"It could get very bad honey, we just don’t know and until it happens we won’t know." I tell her. I don’t have any real facts, but, will no longer hide what I know or suspect may happen from either of them and I don’t want to. My brain whirls with activity and worry as these thoughts cross and recross it.
"I’m going to head over and see the boys shortly. I want to know where we are at in the scheme of things and organise for some shooting lessons for those of us who feel capable of learning to use the weapons. I am not sure how many will want to learn, but , for those who do I will find out when the lessons will start." I finish and stand ready to leave.
"I don’t like the idea of learning to shoot anything and the thought of killing a human being scares me, but I figure that as I am still healthy I had better learn." Mum says, a frightened expression on her face.
"I don’t like the idea either Mum, but it may come to the point that iff we need to defend ourselves and the children I’d rather fight than give in to them. They sure are not getting my kids either." I say loudly and am shushed by Helen and Mum and we all turn to the door and listen in case others have heard us.
Leaning down I kiss Mum on the forehead and hug her tightly, I turn to Helen and do the same. Placing my cup in the sink I head out of the back door and head across the yard towards the forge Raymond has set up and the even larger building behind which houses the weapons that have been brought into the settlement, scrounged and made during the last six months.
Chapter 4
I walk to the open front of the forge and Raymond is there, his bare arms flexing and the muscles bulging as he stands at the anvil and beats out yet another crossbow from the springs of an old abandoned car. There are many old cars still around the settlement, no longer able to be used for transport they are slowly being recycled into more useful things. The crossbows are cut from the spring, and then shaped with a grinder run from the generator that is being used sparingly to conserve what little fuel we have left. The metal is beaten into the curve of the bow and then fitted out with sights, pulleys and the cord then placed in the armoury. This takes time, but as more bows are made the speed of manufacture increases.
There are twenty crossbows standing side by side with bows made of willow wood. That same wood that provides withes for baskets and stays flexible long after it is dry. As thick as my wrist they are shaped, craved by hand, strung and left to stand to dry completely. Richard has taken on the making of the bows and has produced over thirty of them in the last month or so. There beside the willow bows though are three great bows. These are built from Ironbark wood and will take a strong man to pull them. These great bows stand over five feet tall and have an incredible pulling power. There are four men in the village with the strength to pull them to their fullest extent and they can fire an arrow through a drum at 50 paces. Raymond, Gavin and Steve have all been heading off with these bows to a quiet place well away from the village so that they can learn to aim and shoot them.
Richard is sitting quietly on his stool at the back of the workshop away from the heat of the forge. He is working on another great bow and is carefully carving the grooves for the bowman’s fingers on the front of the Ironbark. He looks up at me and smiles as I walk past him towards the back shed and the armoury.
There I find Gavin and Steve checking the supplies of weapons and ammunition for the guns that they have salvaged from the airbase 150 miles away and from many abandoned farms and other places. There are moulds for bullets sitting on the long bench that sits against the rear wall. Guns in all their forms are ranged in racks which are installed in rows throughout the large area. There are hand guns ranged along a long shelf. These are chained together in pairs and each pair is padlocked to the bench to prevent any unauthorised people removing them from the shed. Rifles are also chained in short rows along the shelves. Each different bore size is sorted and their ammunition and bolts are stored in a locked case at the end of the calibre row. Shot guns in all sizes and lengths are also represented and they also have their own storage bench and ammunition lock boxes. Everything is locked and carefully tended. Raymond and his boys take care of the weapons and spend many hours cleaning them and keeping them at the ready. Thomas spends the mornings in the fields and during afternoons when he is not on duty in the guard tower he spends his time making ammunition for the weapons and assisting his father by making bolts for the crossbows. Young Sandy spends his afternoon making wooden arrows with metal tips for the willow bows and the larger Ironbark bows. Steve is the youngest and is kept busy fetching and carrying for the others working in the shop and is responsible for cleaning each area as the work is finished.
Production over the last few months has been stepped up as rumours have come to Gordon of the roaming gangs and their depredations of the small settlements. Gavin and Steve have both started to train most of the men in the use of firearms and bows. The younger teenagers are also being trained to handle and at least load the weapons. Many of us women have also taken time out to become familiar with the weapons available. Many hope never to have to defend our home, if we do, we will be ready for whoever believes they have the right to try to take what little we have. Training will now be stepped up and everyone who is capable of using a weapon will be trained and those that are not capable will either be loaders or minding the smaller children in the schoolhouse.
Chapter 5
Nights are the most dangerous time for the village as it is much harder to see the approach of the raiders in the dark. We know they are there though, their fires glow like red eyes far out on the river flats. The dogs now roam loose at night within t
he village and are able to give warning on the approach of the raiding parties. Many have drifted back to their camps because the dogs have given warning long before the raiders have come close to the village. Girlie is now earning her keep. Her dislike of men is one of the things that make her perfect for guard patrol; the other is her black colouring. Girlie and her pups hide in the night, slinking from shadow to shadow, unseen and ever watchful. If they do not know you they will give warning and if you do not leave they will pursue and attack.
Gavin and Rhys have gained Girlie’s confidence and are now able to work with her. It has taken time and patience, but night patrols are done by both men and the ever vigilant dogs. Four hour shifts are worked every night by both man and dogs. Gavin will leave with Girlie and four of her grown and trained pups for the first shift around midnight. Rhys takes over with Duke and four more of the pups at around 4am. Gavin and Rhys have no set pattern of patrol and the dogs more often lead the men around. Their instincts, hearing and night vision are better and their scenting abilities have saved the village on more than one occasion. Four nights running last week Girlie and her pack chased raiders away from the village. Duke and his pack have also given chase in those gray hours just before dawn, the time when raiders are hopeful that the village would be sleeping and unaware of their approach. There are watchers in the towers at all hours of the day and night and others patrol the village throughout the night hours. During the day all members who are capable have now started to take their weapons with them while they go about their daily lives. I carry my bow and quiver no matter where I am, even while pushing the twins around the village in their pram. Others carry weapons to the milking sheds and the stables while they tend to the animals and their needs. Everyone is watchful, everyone is wary and we all expect attacks and are alert at all times.
The medical team are on constant standby now and we carry our first aid kits with us at all times. They are sadly depleted, dressings are made from cotton rags. Pain medications are getting scarce and most of the modern one’s are used up. Doctor Helen is now making a tincture from marijuana which has some effect on pain and is probably the most used in our meager pharmacy. We still have a small supply of anesthetic and this is used sparingly now. Surgeries are done often with alcohol as anesthetic and strong men to hold the patient down. We have no choice as supplies of most modern medications run out, antibiotics are long gone and we are using honey poultices to treat infected wounds. Most mild infections are not treated though and are building our communities resilience against them as our own bodies overcome them.
The group of elderly men and women that used to meet under the shelters on the village green now meet in the kitchen at my parents’ home. This was organised quietly by Mum so they would not be exposed during an attack. They are safer in the house and are able to assist with any medical emergencies or watch over patients while they wait their turn with Dr Helen or one of the nurses. Mum oversees everything at home and runs the hospital and aged care facility smoothly. It takes a lot of worry and work from Helen’s shoulders. Helen is then able to concentrate on being the community’s doctor and learning the herb lore that is replacing the modern medications as they run out.
The biggest change to the village though is the hole that is being dug in the centre of the village green. That hole is huge and getting deeper by the day. It is to become an attack shelter for those who are unable to fight. The very young, the elderly and nursing mothers will all enter the shelter at the first signs of attack and will remain there until an all clear is given. Food and water will be stored there for those who need it. Medications and first aid equipment are to be placed there for use when required. There will be chairs and beds set up in the shelter and toilet facilities, although primitive, will be included. This should afford our vulnerable community members safety during attacks. It will also double as a shelter during the frequent cyclones that are starting to come down the coast. This has been happening since the earthquakes in 2013 and is a cause for concern. Piles of soil, corrugated iron and wooden bracing cover the ground around the hole and it is deepening slowly as the villagers spend their spare time building a refuge for the women, children and elderly.
Attacks are happening infrequently at this time, but have started to increase as the settlement has become more prosperous and it is believed by the wider population that we have riches that are not available to everyone. Our riches though are hard won and will be defended with every ounce of our beings. We are not a rich village; we have enough food to eat from hard work. We have skilled artisans who make the things that we need and we have a supportive and democratic community structure which means that every member of the community is able to have his or her point of view taken into account and be a part of the running of the village.
Chapter 6
Jenn’s Diary Entry
11 May 2014
The day starts fine and a warm damp fog rolls gently across the river flats. The last days of autumn have been kind to us this year and we are harvesting the crops as quickly as possible. All the while armed guards patrol the paddocks and man the guard towers. Watching, ever watching over the village and the land surrounding it. The danger of attack is increasing again as the crops are brought in and preparations are made for winter. The store houses are filled and the pantries overflow with the fruits of the villagers labour.
Figures dart in and out of the swirling mist as the villagers head down to the paddocks of pumpkin, potatoes and corn. Picking baskets woven from willow withes are hung over their arms and sharp knives are clutched in their hands. Here and there a figure is seen not carrying a basket, but a rifle or crossbow and quiver are visible slung over their shoulders or in their hands. Dogs weave in and out of the procession as they walk into the fields.
Ernie is standing watch in the landward tower and is peering into the rolling whiteness as he tries to see if anything is stirring further out on the flood plain. His dark head and the leather like skin of his face give this rotund little man a goblin like appearance. His brown eyes flash as they cover the area, sweeping from side to side and up and down the mists.
Graeme mans the seaward tower and scans the river and the bar constantly, looking up occasionally towards the deeper water out beyond the bar. Graeme’s blonde head swivels and is almost in constant motion as he covers the area he is watching. He glances frequently towards both the headlands that guard the river mouth and then his gaze returns again to the river and the bar.
There are bangs and crashes from the forge and the smell of molten metal taints the air in that corner of the village. Raymond and the boys are already hard at work mending equipment and making more weapons and ammunition. The latest weapon to be produced from the forge is something that harks back to many childhoods. The trimmings from the springs of cars and other straight but flexible metals is now being made into sling shots for the children. The metal is formed into a wide fork at the top and a rubber band is threaded through the holes in one side of the fork that Raymond drills through the tips. The rubber band is then threaded through a leather patch that is placed in the centre of the forked area before the band is threaded through holes on the second side of the fork, it is then threaded back through a lower set of holes and tied off. This gives a pocket for a stone or metal ball bearing to be placed in the leather patch. The sling shot is held in the hand and the holder aims at their target. The stone or ball bearing is placed in the leather patch then the whole patch is drawn back to the full extent of the stretch of the rubber. On letting go the stone or ball bearing is flung from the pocket and flies at speed to impact with the target. That is the theory of the device, so I am told. I am not too sure of the accuracy though as so far in practice I have never hit what I thought I was aiming at. Some of the older boys are getting quite good with the sling shots though and are now starting to hit what they are aiming at and on impact those small stones and ball bearings make a huge impact.
Children are now starting to head off to the scho
ol house as I sit outside the front door of the cottage and watch them head across the green. Classes will be starting for the day shortly and bright eager faces are turned towards one another as the children chatter and laugh on their way to school. My own children are currently asleep after their morning breast feed. Both contentedly sleeping in their cot in the second bedroom of our little home. The fire is banked down for the day and a bowl of bread is set to rise on the hearth so the smell of yeast is wafting from the door on the heavy moist air. Just a normal, quiet village morning.
I’ll sit here for a while longer catching up on my diary and then I had better go and get ready to feed the twins and get lunch ready for Gavin when he comes back in from patrolling the fields.
James is fading fast now and I can see that the cancer is taking a huge toll on his body. He refuses to give in to the pain and bravely fights each day to get through and although I see the pain in his eyes he refuses to take any pain medications unless really pushed. The twins are the light of his life and we visit for a short period most days. James holds their tiny bodies and talks to them, smiling all the while. Poppy always gets his share of smiles. Two tiny faces light up when they hear his voice and their heads turn towards him. Little eyes light up as they spot one of their favourite people and they begin to smile long before they are placed in James’ arms.
The sun is rising higher in the sky now and fingers of shadow are playing across the tops of the roofs of the village as the paperbark trees start to shade the houses and then reach out across the grass. The shadows dance slightly as the trees sway with the breeze and the smaller branches flutter and wave. There is warmth in the sun today and I turn my face to the sun for just a few moments as I sit here and revel in the autumn weather. Another two months and winter will be upon us once again, rain, cold and winds will be a part of our lives for several months. During that time tools will be repaired, fishing nets rewoven and long dark evenings will be spent talking in front of a blazing fire. In many ways winter is a time of year that I love as the long dark evenings bring families close together and many games are played to wile away those hours.
