by Vance Huxley
“I’m a pacifist, Harold.”
“Yes Lenny and if trouble starts, duck. You’ll be behind the armour plate in the minibus with someone willing to do all the shooting necessary. Patty and Casper to be exact.” Harold held up a hand. “Yes Casper, you’re one-handed but you’ll have that nasty sawn-off of Seth’s.” Seth opened his coat enough to show the weapon before passing over a box of shells.
“No, take Seth because he’ll reload faster.” Casper passed the ammunition back. “You’re already taking two non-combatants.”
“Yeah ok, but Sharyn will carry a pistol as if she can shoot. Lenny, I will want you to assess the health of some people but quietly.” Harold looked round. “I said bring firearms, Patty.”
Patty turned, pointing at the back of her jacket. “I brought three.” She waved her crossbow. “If I need them.”
“I brought the two-two rifle and four pistols between you and me?” Billy smiled at Harold. “I’ll pass them across in the pickup.”
“You need a big rifle Harold.” Liz indicated her coat. “I carried it for Sharyn.”
“Not this time. The big rifles are better left here in case Caddi gets ambitious while we’re preoccupied.” Harold turned. “Casper, walk down with us please. Put your shotgun in the pickup for Billy without the Army seeing.”
The minibus coughed and spluttered into view with Louise behind the wheel. “This might not make it back.”
“I’ve got a towrope in the pickup and that’s diesel.” Harold nodded towards the SUVs waiting down the road. “Let’s not keep them waiting.” Everyone loaded up and followed the GOFS and Barbies.
* * *
On the way to wherever these people were, Harold stressed to Billy that this should be a peaceful meeting, to deal with refugees. The young man’s job would be to guard the vehicles, with a shotgun, but he should only shoot if others did. As they travelled further Harold realised where the convoy would end up. Sure enough, the vehicle ahead turned up a long road parallel to the edge of the flooding to the north of the GOFS. A crowd of vehicles and people ahead turned out to be more Barbies, more GOFS, and a lot of people who didn’t belong to anyone local. Over half of them seemed to be wet anywhere from ankle height up to some waists.
Gofannon waved Harold and his group over. “We’ve asked and these people would rather not go to the Geeks, so Hawkins hasn’t been invited. Anyone left behind won’t have much option now, it’ll be whoever they can get to.” He raised a hand and pointed. “If you look through between the houses you’ll see that the road is blocked now. Here, use these.” Harold used the binoculars. A mile away two vehicles with about a score of armed people blocked the road, one of the only three dry routes left through the flood.
“What about the other two roads?”
“Blocked or will be soon.” Ken gestured at the refugees. “Some of these came in motors but most walked or came through the water because they couldn’t get to the roads.” Even as she spoke another six partially wet people came through the houses further along the road and trudged forward to join those waving in the crowd.
“Why are they running? Is the General that bad?”
“Probably because he’s using the Bloodsuckers as shock troops and they are barbaric bastards. Most of these can’t stay because their homes will be uninhabitable. The shooting you can hear is their fighters, dying to give these folk a chance to get away.” Ken sighed. “They’ve smashed holes to let the canal water into their drains to stop the toilets working, wrecked the electric junction boxes, and those plumes of smoke are their food stores. Scorched earth, or flooded anyway.” She indicated the crowd. “They’re not fighters, but damn they are good haters.”
“Are they all that’s left?”
“Yeah, they weren’t much bigger than your lot, but had good neighbours one side and the water as protection this side. Then the Generals, Bloods and MiB teamed up to roll over their neighbours. This lot took in refugees from the conquest, a conquest because every hint of free will or speech ended up dead in a hole. These people tried to beef up their fortifications but too little, too late.” Ken looked out across the water. “That General will take some stopping now, though our moat is a bit wider than most.”
Harold looked at the refugees. “How many so far?”
“A hundred and fourteen but they tell us more might be coming.” Ken jerked her head. “Come on. Now you’ve seen the problem we have to talk because none of us can take all of them.”
By the time Harold joined the GOFS and Barbies he’d brought the rest of his people up to date. Lenny had already pointed out that the refugees looked fit and well fed. Providing they had shelter, warmth and food Lenny thought they should be fine. Harold looked them over, adding more clothes, bedding, and electrical goods such as kettles and heaters to the list of what was needed. Some of the people only carried packs, though the six vehicles were piled high with bundles and packages.
* * *
“Mercy or mercenary?” Harold looked around the group of gangster leaders. “Are you going to trade for profit out of this, or are we going to chip in together to fix those people up?” He held up a hand to stop the immediate protest. “I know you’ll take some coupons for protection, but are you gonna charge them for every seed or spade they need to feed themselves, or every electric kettle, or blanket?”
A Barbie that Harold hadn’t met before answered him. She acted like one of their elite, but didn’t need a wig over her mop of golden curls. “Fat chance anyway because they’re broke, but no. The thing is, we can’t because we haven’t enough of everything, even using the new goods still in Beth’s. The first problem is shelter because apart from odd houses here and there, there’s no empties with both water and electric. We’ve got suitable groups of decent houses, ones with mainly intact roofs and windows, but they’re missing either water or electric.”
The GOFS boss nodded. “We’ve got houses like that, weatherproof and with electricity or running water but not both. We even know where the break is in one water main but the government team reckoned it’s too badly damaged and sealed the pipe. To be honest, we can’t fix them up with heaters, beds or kettles either, because we don’t have that number of spares. Wayland can make pans, spades, forks, anything in iron, but it’ll take time.” Gofannon wry look took in all Harold’s group. “We laughed at your people out there clearing those houses to make fields and how you were always out scavenging all that crap. Now I’ll bet you’ve got plenty of spare electrical kit, beds, seeds, spades and that sort of shit.”
“Not plenty, but a decent amount. You’ve got more than you think, in all those houses that are without electric or water but not derelict. Electrical goods will be damp and probably need some TLC but we’ve got a man for that. We’ll trade repairs and seed for some goodies from either of you.” Harold grinned. “The dearer you make what we want, the less you’ll get in return so mercy or mercenary?”
The GOFS and Barbies eyed each other, muttering among themselves until Chandra threw up her hands in mock despair. “Everyone knows I’m a sucker anyway. I’ve got no fucking reputation to lose. I vote for mercy, all right?” She pointed at the refugees. “For fuck’s sake look at them.” Chandra shrugged at the Orchard Close group. “You’ll have to plug up your ears today because it’s a bit beyond cripes.”
Patty nodded slowly. “Yeah, quite a bit beyond. In any case, we’re off our patch.” She shrugged as well. “We’re not prudes, we just need the rules to keep the visitors in line.”
“It works as well.” Vulcan turned to Harold. “How many can you take? I reckon we can find housing for fifty plus in a nice neat defensible block providing your bloke can sort out that water main. I’ve no doubt he can, but I mean at a price we can afford.” He looked at the refugees. “There’ll be more trickling in so we’d rather you two took most of these.”
“I’ll have to talk to the rest.” Harold hooked a thumb at his group. “We’ll have to squeeze up as well as repairing some houses. If any
one’s got cement we’ll trade for that?” He scowled. “That or I’ll be trying to get some out of the Geeks and they’ll sting me.”
A medium height, middle-aged woman wearing a blonde wig and a smart suit with a knee-length skirt, a mile away from the usual Barbie shocking, held out her hand. Harold shook and she gestured to a tall black woman with a blonde wig. “I’m Malibu and that’s Christie, with Ken the three original Barbie Girls. We’ve got something to help you with the cement. We’ll pay some of the electrician’s or plumber’s bill with soft toilet rolls and wet wipes.” Malibu’s smile widened to a grin. “The Geeks might all be arses, but I’ll bet the managers care enough about theirs to trade cement for soft wipes.” The whole group laughed and agreed, then split into their gangs to talk about practicalities.
Harold’s main question had to be how many Orchard Close could fit into the existing accommodation or the nearest damaged houses. The next problem would be how to find enough food for them. The refugees would supply coupons to buy food from the marts, but that might not be enough to feed them over winter. The other big problem would be how well these folk accepted Orchard Close rules. Since they came from a working enclave instead of being scattered refugees, the new influx of people wouldn’t just blend in.
Before any of them were accepted, they had to agree to obey Orchard Close rules regardless of their previous arrangement. That included paying into the Coven, working in the fields or anywhere else needing extra labour, and sharing the food. If the refugees agreed, the influx could be temporarily housed by cramming everyone into the occupied houses. Most of the refugees could then move into the terrace block as soon as they were fixed, though the work would now be a priority.
Sharyn and Patty were in the Coven and had a rough idea of the food situation. With the good harvest coming in and a bit of belt tightening, both thought Orchard Close might accommodate forty refugees though they hoped for less. Over the coming winter the extra labour could clear and break new ground to raise more food next year.
* * *
When the gangs reassembled the Barbies were willing to take fifty plus in a small cul-de-sac without electricity. They would pay for the Orchard Close electrician, Finn, to find and fix the break. If he couldn’t, the Barbies would supply the labour to dig a trench to the nearest electricity supply. They would scavenge cable if Finn gave them an idea of what he’d need, and pay him to connect the new supply. The Barbies laughed when asked how they would pay, asking Harold if he wanted to come round Beth’s with a shopping trolley. Though once they sobered, Malibu promised there were a variety of goodies in there, and they’d supply a list.
The GOFs could take up to sixty, but not all of them now. Even the first ones needed the Orchard Close plumber, Rob, as soon as possible to connect running water. Until then the new people would stink a bit since they’d be carting every drop from the nearest working taps. Gofannon revealed he still had bolts of cloth to help pay for repairs, and boxes of thread for sewing or embroidery. Wayland promised he had the metal to make up garden tools, but they’d be rough because he’d use brute hammer power instead of charcoal or coke where possible. He’d also provide machetes, or pretty much anything that could be made out of a lump of scrap iron or steel.
“What about a shaped leading edge for a wooden plough blade?” Harold had just remembered how much those with hand ploughs complained the metal edges weren’t right to turn the earth properly.
Wayland laughed. “Ploughs? Why not, I’m sure we can find a picture someplace to work from. Do you want me to shoe the horses?” A ripple of laughter greeted that; any horse had long since become steak or stew.
“We’ll hammer out the nuts and bolts, or ploughs, later. For now we agree we can take these people?” Everyone nodded and Gofannon stepped out from the group, waving at the anxiously waiting refugees to get their attention. “We can find homes, but you’ll have to obey the rules for each gang.” Gofannon indicated left, then right. “We are the GOFS, those are the Barbie Girls, and those are Orchard Close or Soldier Boy’s mob.” A ripple ran through the refugees.
“Which one is Sanctuary?”
“Some people call us that but sorry, we can’t take you all. We’re one small enclave, with no extra housing nearby.” Harold shrugged. “We’ve knocked the nearest down and a good bit of the rest of our patch is derelict.”
“Here, look at this, it’s Orchard Close. Pass it along and use Bluetooth to copy the picture but I want the phone back.” Ogou held out a phone for a man to collect. He passed it along the refugees, with some copying the picture to their phones or in a couple of cases to tablets. Harold held out a hand for the phone when it came back. Ogou had taken a long shot of Orchard Close, with a wide swathe of crops and the gardeners working busily among them.
“Emmy would love to see this.” She would because nobody from Orchard Close had thought to take one.
“Copy it.” Ogou scowled at the other GOFS. “I took that because I’ve been trying to persuade these idiots we should do the same.” He took the phone back then passed it over to Malibu.
“Bloody hell. Our lot always rabbit on about the gardens after they’ve visited but I’ve never realised how big they are. How many acres is that, Soldier Boy?” She copied the picture onto her phone and passed Ogou’s phone back. “How many does that feed, with veggies since I didn’t see a goat or cow?”
“We reckon there’s well over twenty, maybe thirty acres. There’ll be more once we’ve finished demolition and dug up the caravan park, the one near the gate. Emmy reckons that once we’ve got it all working properly, it’ll feed well over two hundred if we get flour from the mart. Rabbits and spam provide the fat and meat.” Harold smiled. “She’s not satisfied with that. Emmy really fancies growing wheat or hops and barley.”
“Fucking cripes. You’ll get tourists.” Malibu laughed. “You can set up weekend retreats where us executives can get back to nature.” She sobered and looked at the picture again. “I’ll want to talk sometime about what it takes to organise that sort of acreage, because that’s got to be more complicated than dig and plant.” Her eyes narrowed. “For starters you don’t rely on the mart for seeds, do you?”
“Not completely.” Harold smiled. “Though we’ll not charge too much.”
“I’ll bet our refugees will want some at any price. I don’t think they stopped to dig up much before running.” Malibu turned back to the refugees, raising her voice. “Right, who wants to join the Barbies? We can take about fifty but it could be rough until you dig a bloody great trench for Soldier Boy to fix up electric. Then you’ll have to build a wall around the houses for defence, and find furniture or gear from any house that has some.”
An anonymous voice spoke up. “What about the men, our men? We’ve heard rumours.” A ripple of agreement ran through the crowd.
Malibu scowled at Chandra, but without much heat. “Our reputation is fucked now anyway, so I may as well own up. The men and women out in the estates, where you’ll be, are safe enough. The guards we supply might try to tempt a few of either into Beth’s, our headquarters, but it will be temptation not kidnap. Though you stay clear of Beth’s unless you’re invited because we really are mean bitches.” She shrugged. “Pay your shares, don’t give us any shit and that’s it. If any of your women fancy getting payback from the General, we’ll fix them up with weapons.”
Gofannon smiled at her sour tone. “We feel more or less the same way as long as you pay up. Some of our men might try to tempt your women but no kidnap or rape. We hope some men want to be fighters because that greedy bastard will come this way sooner or later. You pay for protection and we supply guards full-time to stop any roaming assholes. Building a wall around the houses and finding any furniture from nearby housing will be up to you. You’ll carry water by hand until a plumber sorts some type of supply but the houses are sound.” He waved a hand to include the other two gangs. “Between us we’ll fix you up with basics, and a way of growing some food, but it’ll be tigh
t this winter.”
“Do you charge for electric?” Another anonymous voice spoke up but once again a mutter of support went through the crowd.
“No, none of us do. The Geeks will if you go there. If we pass you through Caddi won’t, but he’ll sort through your young people for women and fighters and won’t ask.” Gofannon mock-bowed Harold forward. “This I’ve gotta hear, because none of us are sure what his lot do.”
Harold stepped forward, smiling quietly because he’d never tried to put it in words before. “I suppose it’s a sort of commune, but no free love. Everyone will pay into a fund and work part of their time in the fields, which provides them with basic food. No rent, electricity is free, but anyone wanting coffee or other luxuries buys them out of their own coupons. We’ve got a medic, a dentist, and people who’ll fix your kettle or maybe a TV, knit a jumper, or make a shirt or skirt. Anyone with a skill provides that instead of working those rolling acres. They can trade with other gangs and will keep most of their profit. If you are willing to help with self-defence, I will train you.” His smile widened. “The committee, usually called the Coven, deals with collection of coupons and distributing food. This is Sharyn, my sister and head witch.”
A few smiles showed in the crowd, then a voice spoke up. “You and your sister run the place?”
Harold laughed. “Not really. Patty here is part of the Coven. As you can see, she doesn’t take to being bossed about.”
Patty waved her crossbow, letting the laughter die out before speaking. “Maybe not, but if there’s a dispute and Soldier Boy lays down the law, then I salute like a good little soldier. He doesn’t do it often, but you’ve got to understand that part.” She shrugged. “If you don’t, I’ll be right behind him with this to make it stick.” Patty raised her crossbow again.
Gofannon raised his hands to get attention again. “Soldier Boy will take thirty five, the Barbies fifty, and we’ll pick up the rest and any more that trickle in. Now decide.” He turned his back. Among the refugees discussions sprang up and groups began to coalesce.
