Fall of the Cities: Putting Down Roots

by Vance Huxley

  “Time for sleep now.”

  A very wide awake cheeky smile looked up. “But you never answered. Why do I have to go to school? Writing is hard and computers are easy.”

  “I told you, we all have to learn to manage without computers now. You know that some of the computers stopped, and the others might. You and Joey and Georgina all have to learn like I did, from a book. Sukie will be starting soon. You like books.” Daisy did, but if she was in a contentious mood she’d say no. Harold had his fingers crossed.

  “I do like books but only the ones with bedtime stories. I can count as well so why do I need to learn more about numbers?”

  Harold flinched because couldn’t see much future use for higher maths. “For when you grow up. Then you can use the books and the numbers to learn how to do your job.”

  “I want to be a soldier. I want to be Emmy with a signature haircut. Can you put beads in my hair, Uncle-Harold?” Harold hated these discussions because Daisy changed the direction in a heartbeat.

  Though this one wasn’t so bad because he could invoke Mummy. “Tomorrow I’ll ask Mummy, and if she says yes then I will. I’ll get Emmy to help so they’re right.”

  “Fan-tastic! So I don’t have to go to school.”

  Harold blinked. That probably seemed a logical step to a five-year-old but just now Harold had trouble following it. “Yes you do. By the time you need a job, there won’t be any need for girls to fight as soldiers.

  “But they will let me because you’ll ask. Everyone says you are our Soldier Boy so you can ask for me.”

  Harold quickly abandoned both trying to explain the military hierarchy, and cursing the habit of calling him Soldier Boy in front of his niece. “You’ll need to be as big as Emmy, and learn lots of things from books and lots of maths.”

  “Why?” It had taken a while, but Daisy had finally used the W-word.

  “There are tactics, and strategy, and history so you won’t make the same mistake twice. Then you’ll have to write reports, and you need geography so you can find your way around. You’ll need maths if you aim a bow. You must know how far up to aim so the arrow will fall enough to hit the target, and that’s geometry and will take years to learn properly.” Harold really needed to talk to the teachers tomorrow before Daisy did.

  “But that will take for ever and ever and ever. I’ll be oooold. As old as Mummy.”

  “I’m nearly as old as Mummy and still not very good with a bow and arrow. You can learn other things as well, all about how to grow blackberries and peas?” Daisy liked both blackberry cordial and peas.

  “Did Curtis go to school to learn? How long did it take?”

  “Yes he did and it took ages.” Harold saw Daisy’s lip come out and waiting ages wasn’t in her world view. “But if you are good at school he might teach you some things now.” Now Harold needed to get to Curtis before Daisy did.

  “What about soldiering? Can Emmy teach me or Holly? Can Liz teach me what Cripes means? They could all teach me instead of school?”

  Emmy, Holly and Liz went on the list of people Harold had to talk to before Daisy got there. “School first because you need maths, and that means sleep. If you are tired you won’t learn, and then the Army won’t take you.”

  “When can I have a bow and arrow?

  “When your teacher says your maths is good enough. Now go to sleep, all right?” Harold definitely needed to talk to the teachers.

  “Tucking in and goodnight kiss first. Nighty night Uncle-Harold.”

  “Nighty night Daisy.”

  *   *   *

  Harold’s head reeled and he had to talk to Sharyn about Holly next. But not yet because Hazel waited at the top of the stairs. He really hoped whatever she wanted to ask wasn’t too complicated. “Harold, how long will I have to go to school?”

  Harold laughed. “Daisy already started with that one. You need to keep learning just in case this mess ends.”

  Hazel’s face fell. “It won’t, or it will take my whole life, so why do we need to take all the lessons? There isn’t even an exam at the end.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t care about the economic importance of Brazil because they probably have no economy now. All the books are out of date.”

  Hazel started moving and Harold opened his arms. This didn’t happen very often because Hazel’s sad tended to be quiet rather than weepy. Though while he hugged and absorbed Harold realised Hazel had a very good point. Higher maths might or might not be any good, Geography outside the UK had probably become almost useless and judging by the TV, French could soon be extinct.

  “Maybe we should look at changing the curriculum. You could learn sewing and knitting and woodwork instead of some lessons.” Harold felt Hazel’s sobs change, dying down a bit as she listened. “Bricklaying or plumbing, or maybe you could be an electrician’s apprentice?”

  “What about skinning rabbits and archery?” That came out between sniffs but Hazel’s interest seemed to be aroused.

  “I suppose rabbit skinning comes under cooking now. You could learn how to set traps?” Harold frowned about the archery. “Daisy asked about bows and arrows. I told her she needed to learn geometry first.”

  “That won’t work with me.” The trace of humour in Hazel’s voice fooled Harold for a moment, then she sobbed again. “If I could have used a bow I could have helped.”

  “No love, nobody could.”

  Harold wasn’t quite sure how long he stood there while Hazel went from questions about possible new subjects to sobbing and back again, but eventually a bleary fourteen-year-old face looked up. “Sorry. Thank you Uncle-Harold.” A wan smile appeared. “Are you going out with Holly?”

  “Yes. Cripes, does everyone have a personal messenger pigeon or are you all psychic?”

  “No silly.” Hazel’s smile became a little stronger. “You just walked her home and kissed her on the doorstep, which is kinda sweet. I could see you through the dining room window. I’m glad, because you having a girlfriend will stop some of the girl club saying things and I like Holly.” Hazel let go. “I’ll go and get cleaned up, and maybe go to bed.”

  “Daisy might still be awake.”

  “We can talk about school for a bit.” This sniffle morphed into another try at a smile. “Or archery.”

  As Harold came off the bottom of the stairs Sharyn’s eyes lit up but he got in first. “Don’t even think about it. I’ve got a girlfriend, and not the first but at least give me chance to get used to the idea. Right now we’ve got to talk about school, curriculums, beads in hair, and the list of people who need to be primed before Daisy gets to them. Oh, and suitable archery classes for five and fourteen-year-olds.”

  “Cripes, I thought you were in charge up there at least.”

  “Fat chance.”

  *   *   *

  Despite the discussions, Harold went out like a light and slept right through. That meant he got up late and had to race around seeing people about Daisy. Curtis agreed to help Daisy with peas and blackberries, providing she had a good report from school. The idea of a different curriculum for the fourteen and fifteen-year olds intrigued Hilda. Susan, Betty, Kerry and June all laughed at him over Daisy. They were taking on the school teaching between them and were definitely pleased of a reward to offer one child. Harold left them wondering how to encourage the others.

  Holly opened the door of the girl club, and mornings meant a girlfriend kiss. She whispered in Harold’s ear afterwards. “That’s a level two girlfriend hello. Last night I learned about a lot of other kisses, but I think some of them are advanced.” Looking at the grinning faces behind Holly, Harold didn’t even try to imagine.

  “I’ll just have to wait and hope, though first I’ve got a request.” Harold smiled. “A Daisy request and no, she appears to be the only person who doesn’t know yet.” Harold explained archery and geometry, and went to check on Pippa before heading home to breakfast.

  He ignored the comments about getting lost o
n the way when the woodcutters set off, and spent another day nursing his rifle and watching for a bloke who never turned up. Though the occasional level two girlfriend hello, and a level three because Holly needed to practice, did brighten his day up. As far as the gunman was concerned, Harold wondered if he would ever come back.

  Mid-afternoon the following day the radio called Harold back to Orchard Close. As he pulled up Harold could see a new refugee. Maybe a refugee because this one looked reasonably well dressed and brought a hand cart. Harold parked on the road and walked up behind him.

  “Hello. I’ve been called back to talk with you.” Harold put out his hand. “Harold.”

  “Leonard, usually called Lenny but I’ll answer to Len. Is this Orchard Close because they won’t even confirm that?” Lenny stood a couple of inches below Harold’s six feet, medium built and looked fit rather than muscled. His washed-out blue eyes met Harold’s without hesitation. Harold’s first impression, especially with the neatly cut dark brown hair, had been that the man was military, but that wasn’t right. Lenny looked controlled and confident but not disciplined, or at least not the Army way.

  “We have unpleasant neighbours. Not only that, but you have a lot of luggage for a refugee.” Harold looked pointedly at the hand cart.

  “Gifts. These days I understand it is usual to buy into a community?”

  “We have a different system. If you agree to the rules and we like you, that’s good enough.” Harold smiled. “Knowing what you expect and what you can provide in the way of skills is a good way of knowing if we’ll like you. Where are you from?” Leonard puzzled Harold and he wondered if the man had run from the neighbours. That hand cart screamed an invitation to be robbed, so how had this man pushed it through at least one territory?

  “St. Mary’s Hospital.”

  Harold put his hand on his machete and moved out of the direct line from the guard houses. He wouldn’t use the machete because if trouble started this bloke would have three or four shafts in him in a heartbeat. “No you aren’t. That was attacked and burned.”

  A shadow crossed Lenny’s eyes. “I know, I was there. I hid and I’ve been living on the catering supplies and vending machines. Some days I mingled with people nearby and that’s where I get my ideas of how this new world works.” Lenny gestured towards his cart. “I heard of your place, where there is some sort of civilisation, and came to look. I brought enough food so I could hide all day and walked all night.”

  “That’s full of food?”

  “No, that’s whatever medical supplies were left here and there.” Lenny smiled. “I knew where to look.”

  “What was your job?” Harold prayed for surgeon and knew that wouldn’t happen.

  “Paramedic, or I would have been in six months if I qualified.” Harold felt pretty sure the man’s sigh came from the heart. “Our ambulance was attacked while we were taking someone into A&E and then the attackers came through the doors.”

  “Would you know what to do for a woman with a smashed forearm, smashed by a bullet?” Harold held his hand up. “Not what a fully fitted hospital or ambulance did, what would you do now?”

  First Lenny had his own question. “What facilities do you have, because if it’s too bad her arm will need amputating. Depending on how long ago the shooting happened it might be too late, and she might lose more of her arm anyway from infection, gangrene.”

  “Can you do that? Amputate?”

  “Christ no. Or maybe but you wouldn’t want me to try.” Lenny stared. “Who have you got as a medic?”

  “If that hand cart checks out you’ll know because she’ll give you a job interview. Is there a firearm in view when you take off the cover?” Harold glanced up towards the Army.

  “No chance! I’m a pacifist. That’s why I ran and hid.” Lenny sighed. “I’ll patch people up but I won’t injure them.” He looked up towards the Army. “Have you asked them to take her?”

  “She’s married with a child so she’d rather stay. I think the interview is over.” Harold gave a clear thumbs up to the guard houses and the car started up to move the middle of the barricade aside.

  “Isn’t moving that a pain?”

  “We’re working on it.” Liz had made a temporary gate for when visitors came to shop, but that wasn’t really strong enough as a permanent barrier. “It’s got to be strong enough to stop a car.”

  Lenny looked down at the road and up at the narrow gap. “If your cars don’t go through anyway why not put in some of those barriers, the posts that were used to stop cars going down cycle paths?”

  “Good idea, you just bought your way in.” Harold gestured. “Walk through and someone will search you. I’ll bring the cart.”

  Thirty minutes later Patricia had a tear trickling down her cheek, pure relief because she finally had someone who’d actually dealt with wounds like these. As a paramedic on an inner-city ambulance Lenny had dealt with both knife and gunshot wounds, though only enough to keep people alive to the hospital. He also brought a good selection of dressings, drugs and a small sterilizer.

  “Lenny says the vet’s needles and supplies, the ones I used on people, are fine but he’s brought some of the right ones as well.” Patricia smiled happily despite the tear. “I’ve even done enough of the right things with Pippa’s arm, and he’s going to look at the other wounded. Apparently, if they’re still alive, we were good enough.” Her smile dimmed. “Can you go and see the Army please, Harold, and find out just what happens to wounded who go to them? Neither of us are up to amputation, or not one like that, and something has to be done soon.”

  *   *   *

  “Hello Army!” Harold took off his coat and twirled to show he wasn’t obviously armed.

  “You know the drill. Come on up nice and slow.” Harold did. Relations with the Army included occasional chips and beer and a few jokes when shopping, but the rifles were still pointed at him all the way up. The search had become cursory these days because the soldier ran a wand over him first, which was a relief when women needed searching.

  “What can the Army do for you today, Soldier Boy?” Sarge’s slight smile meant he was in a good mood. “Since you aren’t carrying anything that has to be impounded.”

  “We’ve got a badly wounded woman down there. A gunshot wound to her arm and what we’ve got as doctors say it’s got to come off.” Harold shrugged, not so dangerous these days because this lot weren’t into accidental shooting. “I want to know what will happen to her if we bring Pippa up here. I won’t send her to a work camp. She’s a baker for God’s sake, not a criminal.”

  Sarge’s face hardened. “They’re all work camps now, but the criminals are kept separate from the rest. No orange suits, but definitely guards. How old is she?”

  “Twenty-five. Why?”

  “Don’t send any young woman there.” Sarge looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, which definitely wasn’t like him and Harold realised they’d moved away from the soldiers. “I’ve heard rumours about conditions there. If she’s got any chance of living, keep her and do your best.” Sarge glanced back at the soldiers. “Now we’ll talk about the real reason you’re here because they don’t need to know what the world is becoming.”

  “We will?”

  Sarge raised his voice. “Not only did I hear a grenade, but then there’s a bloke in his underpants with a young woman. I thought you were decent people down there.”

  Harold raised his voice a little. “Some yob made a pipe bomb to show off and frighten people so we explained he can’t throw as far as a, a crossbow.” Harold only just substituted crossbow for rifle in time, and saw a ghost of a smile from Sarge. “The bloke in his underpants is Casper, and he’s gay so she was in no danger.”

  “She didn’t look very willing.”

  “She thought she’d been sold. Casper was in his underpants because Umeko had been handed over starkers so he gave her some clothes.” Harold knew he still sounded angry about that, because he was. “She’s got the me
ssage now and lives with the other single women.”

  Sarge smiled. “Good enough.” His voice dropped again. “Any chance she could walk up with some chips or beer one evening. The lads really are twitchy because there’s a lot of rumours going round that aren’t really rumours.”

  “I’ll ask, because I won’t force her and she’s still nervous about blokes.”

  “Ah, right. Now tell me about the latest bloke so I can tell them and they won’t suspect secrets. There’s a bit of paranoia among the mushrooms these days.”

  “Easy.” Harold laughed. “He’s a paramedic, nearly trained thank all and any Gods, which makes him our second and now senior medic. Lenny even brought medical supplies.”

  “A paramedic could get a pass.”

  A shock ran through Harold and he thought hard. Part of him wanted to hang on the Lenny any way he could, because Harold could still see that tear on Patricia’s cheek. He sighed. “I’ll tell him.”

  “I thought you might.” Sarge turned, looking out over the city, and the soldiers brought up their rifles. Harold tensed but remembered to stay still.

  “Crap. Er. Can I go please Sarge, right now?”

  “Why? What was that?”

  “The arse with a 12 gauge shotgun just shot another solid slug at one of my people, or I’ll bet on it anyway. They need me over there in case he hits another woman.” They needed the big 303 to blow the bastard away. Harold cursed silently because he should have left the damn thing there.

  “Go on then. Don’t run, but I’ll allow a quick march.”

  “Thanks Sarge.” Harold marched as quickly as possible to the bottom of the ramp, relieved because he could hear Sarge telling the squaddies to point the bloody rifles at the gunshots, not the unarmed bloke.

  *   *   *

  “They knew, the bastards knew.” Emmy shook her fist towards the Geek territory. “Whoever called you away was a fix, Harold. Let me at them with a knife and I’ll find out.”