The Survivors Book IV: Spring

by V. L. Dreyer

  "They're on birth watch," Michael said suddenly, looking almost as surprised as I felt. "Like the death watch, except the other way around. This is the first baby to officially be born in Tumanako, and they already love her as much as they love you."

  The thought made me smile, despite the pain of another contraction. Everyone had a kind word for me as we walked past them, and helping hands were everywhere if I needed them. Michael and Anahera helped me through a quick, hot shower, and then we spent the next few hours just keeping me busy while nature took its course.

  Eventually, the contractions started to come closer and closer together. I was ushered back onto the table so the doctors could check on our progress, but by that stage the pain was so intense that I couldn't keep track of what was going on. I heard Professor Madurrit tell me that it was time, then I was ushered over to squat on a birthing stool that they'd salvaged a few weeks earlier. Anahera knelt in front of me, her hands on my shoulders to brace me and help me keep my balance.

  "It's time, darling," she told me firmly. "Time to meet your baby. Breathe deep, and push!"

  I did as I was told. The pain was intense, worse than anything else I'd ever been through in my life, but Anahera’s words rang in my mind and gave me the strength I needed to make it through. I heard myself yelling until my throat was raw, swearing up a storm, and even threatening poor Michael, but all of that stopped mattering when I heard one thing: the sound of a baby's cry. I burst into tears and barely heard Anahera say, "It's a girl!"

  I lost track of the baby while Michael and Anahera helped me back into bed, but only for a few seconds. Skye came over as soon as I was settled and placed the squirming newborn in my arms.

  "Oh my god," I gasped, staring down at her little face. "I… I made this. I made a people! A tiny people!"

  "No, we made a tiny people," Michael replied, laughing. "I helped, too!"

  "Oh sure," I answered, unable to keep the smile off my face despite the pain and exhaustion. "I just lugged her around inside my body for the last eight and a half months, then tore myself in half squeezing her out, but by all means, take all the credit."

  Michael just laughed even harder. He wrapped his arms around me and planted a kiss on my cheek. "I don't want all the credit. Just some. And lots of hugs. You know, daddy privileges."

  "Oh, well I guess you can have that," I replied. I gave him a quick kiss, then looked back down at our baby again. She was red, wrinkled, and wriggling like an eel, but to my eyes she was the most beautiful thing in the world. She wasn't just my firstborn child, she was something more. A symbol. A step towards the future. She represented the end of one chapter of my life, and the beginning of something new and wonderful.

  I couldn't wait to get started.

  ***

  With Skylar's blessing, we named the baby Ryana. In the days and weeks following her birth, I often found myself struggling to cope with balancing my newfound responsibilities as a mother with my duties as the leader of Tumanako, but everyone was patient with me. To no one's great surprise, Michael look on far more than his fair share of the tasks required to keep our baby content and healthy. I'd never seen him happier than when he was changing her nappy or rocking her to sleep.

  Occasionally I found myself struggling to produce enough milk to feed her, but when that happened the rest of the community came to my rescue. Hannah or Tala or any of the other new mothers were always there to help, either by acting as a wet nurse or by bottling their spare milk for us. Their willingness to help left me feeling warm inside, because it was exactly the kind of community spirit that I'd hoped to create when we founded Tumanako. Just as Anahera had promised, the community was there to help us learn to care for our baby, and to teach us how to be the best parents we could possibly be.

  It took weeks for my body to recover from the traumatic act of giving birth, but it did. Thanks to the excellent medical care I received from my friends and the exercises that Professor Madurrit had insisted I do every day, I bounced back in good time. By the middle of summer, I was fit enough that I could work in the garden, or even help with the construction projects around the village. Michael and I had our tattoos done, and took our rings off permanently. They meant too much for us to throw away, of course, so we mounted them on the wall above our bed, strung together on a single chain to symbolize our unity.

  Our community grew right along with our new baby. Every day, stragglers drifted in from the countryside and new faces joined our community. By the end of summer, Tumanako was home to nearly six hundred souls. Just as we'd hoped, we outgrew the tower and began to spread out into the grounds around Tumanako. Couples began to settle down and start families.

  Skylar came to term and gave birth to a healthy baby boy with a shock of red hair. Though it was obvious who the biological father was, Hemi adopted the baby as his own without question, and it was a delight to see them both so happy.

  Shortly after Skylar gave birth, Bobby approached us both and did the unthinkable: he apologised to us, honestly and sincerely, with tears in his eyes. We were stunned, but once the shock wore off we both accepted his apology without reservation. Matt Yousefi took a liking to him, and the two of them struck up a tentative friendship. With Matt’s help, Bobby finally began to integrate into our society. Watching him learn to smile again was one of the most rewarding things I’d ever seen.

  To my surprise, Isabelle began to outgrow her nervousness and come into her own, thanks to the friendship she developed with Gavin. I gave in to curiosity one day and asked if there was anything between them, only to be told that Isabelle had finally discovered what she liked best was her own freedom. Whenever I saw her, she was learning something new. One day I saw her working on the mural with our resident artists, and the next she was training with one of the self-defence classes and learning to fight. The combat classes gave her a confidence I’d never seen before, and watching her squeal and jump for joy whenever she won a sparring match brought me great pleasure.

  The community became so focused on what was happening inside it that we almost forgot there was a world outside the walls. We kept reminding one another to be aware and watchful, but no one could have predicted the momentous event that would force us to start thinking of ourselves as part of a wider world again.

  That event came in early autumn, as the leaves were just starting to think about changing colour. I'd led a short scavenging trip to Wellington to look for anything we could use; winter was coming again, and although we felt secure in our new home we wanted to be prepared. We were half way through loading the truck with salvaged blankets and duvets when one of the scouts came running up to me, frantically flailing his arms.

  "There's a boat!" he cried breathlessly. "There's a boat in the harbour!"

  I shot him a curious look. "There are always boats in the harbour. They don't go anywhere."

  "No!" he gasped, shaking his head. "No, there's a new boat – a frigate! It's just arrived!"

  "What?" I froze, staring at him in surprise. "Are you serious?"

  "Yes, I'm serious," the scout replied. He grabbed my arm and half-led, half-dragged me through the winding streets towards the waterfront. The rest of our party dropped whatever they were doing and raced after us.

  By the time we reached the waterfront, the frigate had dropped anchor in the harbour.

  "Binoculars!" I demanded.

  Someone put a pair into my hand. I lifted them up and stared through them, trying to make out the details of what we were seeing.

  "There are people moving about on the deck," I told the people around me. "I can't tell how many. I think they're preparing a boat to come ashore. Wait – there's a flag! It's… it's the New Zealand flag? No– no it's not, there are too many stars. Oh my God! It's the Australian flag! The Australians are here!" Gasps of shock rang out all around me. I lowered the binoculars and looked around, just as stunned as the others sounded. "What are they doing here? How are they here?"

  "If they're coming ashore, then I gu
ess we're going to find out in a couple of minutes," Gavin said, his expression painfully neutral but I could see the concern in his eye. If this was an invasion, then we were sitting ducks. A ship like that would need almost a third of Tumanako's entire population to man it, which meant that we were seriously outnumbered – not to mention outgunned.

  Gavin put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze, a gesture of silent solidarity that spoke far more than words. We all waited together as the frigate lowered a smaller craft into the water. The inflatable swung around and crept towards shore at what felt like a snail's pace, even though we could see from its wake that it was travelling at a good speed. By the time it was close enough that we could see the faces of the people on board, I was feeling sick with anxiety and anticipation, but there was nothing we could do except wait.

  Finally, the boat came to a rest against the edge of the dock not even a few meters away from us, and a single, uniformed man stood up. He gave us a long look, and for a second we all held our breath – then, suddenly, he saluted us.

  "Permission to come ashore?" he called, in a voice that carried an accent I hadn't heard in a very long time.

  Tears sprang unbidden into my eyes. I pulled away from the group and walked over to offer him a hand up onto the dock. "Permission granted."

  Once he was on dry ground, he straightened his uniform and looked at the little group of faces huddled behind me.

  "You have no idea how glad I am to see someone alive down here," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry it took us so long to get here, but it took a lot of doing to assemble and train a crew."

  "You came to check on us?" I asked, struggling to blink back the tears that very much wanted to roll down my cheeks. "It's been a decade."

  "I know," he said. "We never forgot about you. There aren't many of us left, but there are some. We had to find a way to check on our little sister nation somehow. It wasn't easy, but I guess you know that better than most."

  "Yes, I do," I replied, suddenly fighting the urge to laugh. "We were so afraid… we thought we might have been the only humans left on Earth, and everyone else was gone forever. I can't believe you're standing here."

  "We thought the same thing for a while," the sailor replied, "but we've managed to make contact with little pockets of survivors all over the world. The Royal Family may be dead for all we know, but the spirit of the Commonwealth lives on in us."

  Something about that sentence struck just the right chord with me. I burst into tears and threw my arms around the stranger's neck in a hug. We embraced for nearly a minute, then I shoved him back and gave him a watery smile.

  "Bring your crew ashore," I suggested. "Let us show you the city we've built for ourselves. It isn't perfect, but it doesn't have to be. It's home."

  Epilogue

  "…And they lived happily ever after. The end!" The little girl slammed the book closed, and looked expectantly at her teacher. "Can we go now?"

  "Sophie!" Kylie exclaimed, struggling to hide her amusement behind a mask of horror. "That isn't even close to the end of their story. Don't you want to know what happens next?"

  "We already know what happens next, Mum," Sophie complained, rolling her eyes and folding her arms across her chest. "We read this last year. We don’t want to read it again!"

  The rest of the class laughed. Kylie hid a chuckle behind a cough, then shook her head. "Come on, kids. This is your great-grandparents we're talking about. Without them, we wouldn’t have a home, we wouldn’t have the vaccine – most of us wouldn’t even be alive. Just one more chapter?"

  "No!" Sophie cried, covering her face with her hands. "It's Founder's Day! We want to go to the feasting before the grown-ups eat everything. Please, Mum? Please?"

  "Please, miss?" another child asked, and then they all joined in. "Please? Pleeeeease?"

  Kylie finally gave in and laughed. "Oh, fine. It's Founder's Day. I suppose the best way you can honour their memory is by enjoying it. Go on, then – but I want you back here bright and early tomorrow morning! Don't forget you've got a maths test."

  A chorus of cheers and groans went up from around the class, but it was swiftly drowned out by the screech of chairs and the pounding of footsteps as the entire class raced out of the room. Kylie heaved a sigh, then she stood up and walked around the room collecting the copies of the collected memoirs of Tumanako’s founders from the desks.

  Just as she was returning the last copy to its place on the shelves, there was a light tap on the door. She glanced back over her shoulder, and found a familiar face loitering in the doorway.

  "Hello, Mr Cross," she greeted with mock formality. The young man laughed and came over to kiss her cheek.

  "Hello, Ms McDermott," he replied. "Did you let your class out early, too?"

  "Yeah," she said, absently touching the locket around her throat, passed down to her by her foster aunt, Priyanka; her cousins were all boys, and her aunt had wanted the keepsake to stay on the female side of the family. It could have gone to her mother, Ryana, but they’d decided to pass it straight down to her. Kylie sighed in memory, then shook her head and smiled at her husband. "You know how the kids get on Founder's Day. They don't want to sit around reading books when they could be running around, playing, and stuffing food down their gullets."

  "I know," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Just remember, to them these people may as well be characters from a novel. They're not as real to the kids as they are to you and me. They were our grandparents, our aunts and uncles. We knew them. Sophie was only a baby when we buried them. Speaking of which – Nana will want us at the memorial, and you know how much your mum hates it when we’re late. We should probably get a move on."

  Kylie nodded and went to fetch her coat. Founder's Day fell in early spring, and that meant that the weather was fickle at best. It could go from brilliant sunshine to pouring with rain in a heartbeat. Tumanako was her home, though, and she knew the weather better than her own moods.

  Tama linked his arm through hers, and together they left the school building and went out into the city streets. People were everywhere, a swarming mass of smiling humanity out enjoying the holiday regardless of the weather. Kylie smiled and waved to her friends, but she didn't stop to chat. There would be time for that later. Now was the time for remembrance.

  The walk to the family crypt was long but ultimately pleasant. She still remembered the day they'd decided to build it. The entire community had gotten together both to collectively mourn the loss of their heroes, and to thank them for a lifetime of service. Beautiful flowers grew in well-tended beds on either side of the path, and the sweeping boughs of trees protected them from sun and rain alike.

  Where once the grave of Ryan Knowles had stood alone, they'd built a crypt to honour the memory of every person who had dedicated their life in the name of an idealistic dream all those years ago. A plaque adorned the entrance, carved with dozens of names that were so familiar to her – and in front of the plaque stood a wizened old woman with long hair that had once been raven black, and was now steel-grey with age.

  "Nana?" Tama called. It was unnecessary, of course. No one could ever sneak up on his grandmother. Even as a child, he'd never been able to get away with anything when she was around. Somehow, she always knew.

  The woman turned and smiled at them both. "Hello, dear. Hello, Kylie – ah, I see you've been reading the stories again. Trying to remember?"

  "Every year," Kylie said softly. She walked up beside the old woman and reached out to touch the names of her grandparents, carved at the very top of the list of founders. "I miss them sometimes. I wish that Sophie could have gotten to know them better."

  A smile crinkled the old woman's lips. "At least your Sophie will have the chance to grow up safe and healthy. That's the most important thing."

  "I know." Kylie sighed and closed her eyes, running her fingers across the cold metal as if that could help the twisting of grief in her gut. "The children don't un
derstand, though. I try to teach them, try to keep the memory alive, but the founders are just stories to them."

  "Not stories, my dear," Madeline Cross said, turning to face her fully. "Legends. The founders have passed from our world into the world of legends. That means they'll never be forgotten."

  "Let me guess,” Kylie said, a shy smile dancing across her face. “You know because you've foreseen it?"

  Madeline laughed and shook her head. "I don't need to foresee it to know it'll happen, dear. It already has."

  THE END

  Afterword

  When I started this project in December 2012, I honestly didn't believe that I was going to see the end of it. I never could have guessed just how popular The Survivors would become. Now, just over two years later, I've written the final book in the series and you've just finished reading it.

  Is this the end for The Survivors? Doubtful. This is the end of the first arc, yes, but I've already got a few ideas for future novels. There are still so many adventures to be had, and so many concepts to explore. I don't know when it'll happen, but I have no doubt that it will.

  While you're waiting for that day to come, why not check out my other series, The Immortelle? It's a raunchy, action-packed science fiction series with a side of humour, and writing it helped keep me sane through the darker moments of The Survivors. There's a sample chapter after the credits for you to take a look at.

  If you enjoyed this book as much as I enjoyed bringing it to you, please consider leaving a review. Reviews are the life-blood of all independent authors, and are vital to our success. Plus, I love hearing that people enjoyed my story! Reviews may drive my sales, but it's you – the reader – that keeps me going through all the ups and downs.

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