by Vance Huxley
Chapter 5:
Spreading the Happiness
In the bunker deep beneath the countryside, the mood seemed more relaxed for this meeting. Owen looked at the screen which showed lines of prisoners in orange suits digging up potatoes. “How is the harvest going this year, Henry?”
“Very well. We’ll do better next year with the extra farmland.” Henry nodded to Grace. “The extra gardeners from York will help, though not in Yorkshire of course or they’ll be tempted to run off home.”
“Can I take it that the new arrangement worked, Joshua, Vanna?” They glanced at each other and Joshua spoke up.
“Much better. Vanna’s people broke the resistance with armour, prompting a serious attempt to break out. We were waiting with regular Army units. The soldiers showed no reluctance when faced with just another mob trying to overrun the guard posts.” Joshua smiled happily. “Vanna’s people kept sweeping them forward onto the guns, then mopped up as the survivors ran.”
“My people, those seconded to Joshua, are now working back through York making sure they didn’t miss anyone. With some judicious repairs to water and electricity we can move people, our people, into some of the better housing to develop the area.” Vanna grimaced. “Civil servants. We can even reopen marts for them since this time those weren’t specifically targeted.”
“We should bring in factory workers, good little drones to process food that is produced in the newly liberated area around York.” Ivy smiled. “There is a bonus even before Henry’s tractors get busy. A quick survey shows a lot of sheep on the Yorkshire Moors and the Scottish Borders, and even some feral cattle and horses. We’ll get them rounded up and York will make an excellent centre for processing them.”
“Will there be enough to keep the cities fed?” Owen shrugged. “There is a hiccup with the Argentinian supplies. Buenos Aires and Montevideo haven’t been starving fast enough because they have access to open ocean, an ocean teeming with fish. The Argentine Navy stopped the fishing and both cities went crazy.” He sighed. “Cutting off the fishing from both at the same time turned out to be stupid, not efficient. Several thousand of the scum broke out of Buenos Aires and spread out across the countryside, which unfortunately contains a lot of food. The escapees won’t starve so they must be hunted down, which will disrupt food production.”
“I hadn’t intended using the sheep and cattle for the cities. I intended giving our drones some real meat for a change, but only the older animals because Henry doesn’t want us to clear all the livestock. He wants to leave enough sheep running about to provide a yearly supply until we can begin formal sheep farming again.” Ivy’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I can arrange for the pork content of spam to go down again but the scum are already noticing a difference. Perhaps I can use the older mutton to raise the meat content.” She suddenly smiled. “We can put in other meat. Henry, can you arrange for all vermin caught on the farms to be frozen and forwarded for processing?”
“All of it, not just the rabbits?” Henry grimaced. “There’s a good percentage of rodents?”
“Meat is meat as long as we cook it to kill any bugs, and the less civilised scum already eat rat-burgers.” Ivy turned to Owen. “Though we can’t do this for ever or there’ll be no pork content at all.”
“Can’t we give the cities some of the fish? There’s plenty coming in now the retained population have trained up as fishermen. With the foreign fishing boats we rounded up at the beginning as potential spies and terrorists, we have some sizeable fleets out now.” Victor, the navy man, smiled happily. “We’ve revived the British fishing industry, and the Naval vessels protecting the fleets are still snapping up extra boats operating out of small ports on the continent.”
“Not a chance. That fish is providing the oils, fats and protein for the Armed Forces, Vanna’s people and our civilians.” Grace sneered. “If we start to give fish to the scum either in the camps or the cities they’ll expect us to continue. Feed them rat with no pork if necessary.”
“No need, there’s a delay but it shouldn’t be a long one.” Owen looked around the table. “Any other real problems? I mean ones that need addressing here.”
“Alliances. Even the maniacs are making treaties with each other, to allow them to trade or defend a particular area. Worse, some alliances include the very enclaves we want them to turn on.” Maurice frowned. “My people can only hint, suggest and very occasionally mislead. They have to be careful because these savages are paranoid, and I’ve already lost people who were caught making contact.”
“Just how do they make contact?” Joshua frowned. “We monitor the few working radio frequencies and there’s no hint.”
Owen answered. “Need to know, Joshua, operational security.” Joshua nodded understanding.
“How solid are the alliances?” Grace smiled. “Just how hard would it be to break them?”
Maurice frowned. “It will take more than hints or suggestions, because the alliances make sense. They’ll fail now and then, though probably just until one or the other gang gives up a street or whatever. Then they’ll be established again because who wants to lose access to the local dentist, doctor or pot grower?”
“But there is still rivalry between the rank and file, even between the leaders.” Grace still smiled, her tone dismissive. “In the work camps we have found that putting large numbers from rival gangs together sparks violence. That’s even with the threat of execution hanging over them. I can’t see these alliances standing up under any sort of strain, so we shouldn’t worry too much.”
“I can encourage that. If their fighters have to combine for some reason, then there’ll be an opportunity once the reason had been dealt with.” Maurice started to smile. “A hint of betrayal, or a single shot at the wrong person or group, could cause a bloodbath. Excellent. I’ll give that some thought.”
Owen leant forward. “The other arrangements, emptying a city and stamping out some of these little democracies, they are all on track?” He shrugged. “We don’t want you getting side-tracked with interesting projects. Nate tended to do that, and came up with some very unhelpful results.”
“I understand and yes, I will prioritise.” The meeting moved on to the reports on how each phase had progressed. Boris the diplomat seemed interested in the numbers of peaceful enclaves, and suggested taking some of those people to establish farms. He wasn’t totally satisfied by Owen’s objections to mission creep, pointing out that the population of Europe had been culled well beyond the expected levels so a few extra survivors in the UK, productive citizens, shouldn’t matter. In the end he accepted that the local situation meant everyone in the cities should to be processed. The discussion about Europe brought up the rise of some centres of organisation on the continent. The cabal authorised limited air strikes to break up strong groups, and more later to destroy accumulated food and fuel stocks.
This time Maurice and Vanna hung back but left without speaking to Owen, which allowed them to speak privately. “How hard is Joshua looking for your system of contacts?”
“So far he’s just curious, though not in the right directions.” Maurice smiled. “There’s no risk to your nest egg yet, Vanna.”
“Our nest egg. It’s a hell of a big nest already and growing fast. After all, you need a method of collecting information and there’s no law saying we can’t make a profit out of supplying one?” Vanna sniggered. “There’s no law at all out there among the ruins.”
“Just the law of supply and demand. If Joshua or anyone else gets close we might need something creative. I’m working on one possibility, but maybe you could look among your people for another? Especially now you’ve got those bloody great cannons.” Maurice grinned. “A training accident?”
“A tank shell to close an inconvenient mouth? That’s overkill but definitely kill, which is the point. I will have to wait until we have totally replaced or thoroughly suborned the Army crew members. My people must be trained before we can do that though we’re already
crewing some of the lighter armoured fighting vehicles.” Vanna wiped the smile from her face and walked a little faster to catch the rest.
* * *
Meanwhile, in accordance with his local treaty and trade agreement, Harold sat in a ruined Burger King near the Geek Freek compound. “No point in asking for a burger and fries since I can’t smell hot grease, which is a pity because I’ve got to sit and wait until Hawkins comes out to trade.”
Darwin glared. “Why the fuck would he? You’re getting ideas above your station.”
“Billy?” Billy threw a package to Harold. As usual the Geek Freek and Orchard Close bodyguards sat at tables each side of the ruined fast food outlet, while the two actually trading sat at the same table in the middle. Harold unwrapped the nine-pack of soft toilet rolls. “Still sealed. I might have more and you can’t set a price, can you? Or you can’t set one I’ll accept.”
“Fucking hell, where did you find them. You jammy bastard.” Darwin looked closer. “You didn’t find them, there’s no dust on that. Christ, did you raid the Barbies?”
“Raid? Tut, tut Darwin. I’ve been shopping at Beth’s.”
Harold watched as Darwin absorbed that, rejected it, looked at the toilet rolls and reconsidered, then realised it was impossible. “Smartarse. What the fuck did the Barbies want bad enough to part with these?”
“My body, but only rented of course. Now are you going to get Hawkins or shall I trade them elsewhere?”
“No, sod it, hang on.” Darwin didn’t even leave, just used his radio though he took care not to broadcast what had been offered. “Someone get Hawkins out here to trade, because Soldier Boy has something worth his time.”
“No extra guards, or you might get tempted.”
Darwin hesitated, looking at Seth’s sawn-off before thumbing the button. “No extra guards or he’ll leave.” Darwin tittered. “Or maybe shoot these two.”
Harold refused to talk any more until Hawkins arrived. He went through the same back and forth, after which Hawkins looked at the size of Billy’s and Seth’s packs. “The new refugees brought them?” He frowned. “The ones we’ve had swam across the flooded railway line so they couldn’t bring much. A couple of them reckoned the GOFS would get more gear.” He looked hard at Harold. “How come you got some refugees from the GOFS? You don’t buy people.”
“No but we take refugees. I told the truth about how I got these because the Barbies wanted something badly enough, though I didn’t do the trolley dash round Beth’s.” Harold grinned. “Home deliveries are safer.”
Both the Geek managers fell about laughing. “Oh, too true. Now what do you want? You can’t have the other chink because Wellington won’t let her go. Even weirder, I don’t think she’d leave.”
“I’ll let Umeko know.” Umeko would be happy to know that her friend had moved out of the bedding store, the Geek brothel. Better yet she had apparently found some sort of safety. “Now just how much cement can I have for one of these nine-packs?”
“How many have you got?” Hawkins thought for a moment. “Can you get more?”
“We’ll set a price for one pack, which might be the only one so bid hard. Your ass will thank you?” Harold grinned. “Your ass will also want to spin these out since the Barbies might not be as generous again.”
“Too true. We’ve managed to trade one, I repeat one, toilet roll out of the bitches that occasionally come here. Fuck, you got to meet their top bitches didn’t you?” Hawkins looked Harold over. “No visible scars? Are they all dykes?”
“I know how to treat a real lady.” Harold smirked. “Now come on, trade.”
Harold sang along happily to Barbie Radio on the way back home with a ton of cement split between the back of his pickup and Rabbit Bob’s estate car. He would be back for a ton of sand to make mortar. Casper could seal the end walls of the row of terrace houses as well as bricking in the lower windows and doors facing away from Orchard Close. Malibu had been dead right as Hawkins, and Darwin, valued soft loo rolls and wet wipes well above building materials. From the jealous looks, the Geek bodyguards wouldn’t be getting near the luxuries.
Harold had still paid some coupons but expected to get those back with interest. Once again something had blown in the local supply and cut off several Geek houses. It happened often enough for Harold to suspect the tenants were finding ways to get round the meters so they didn’t have to pay for electricity. Finn would no doubt fix the supply and reconnect the score of houses, but he never told the gangsters what caused any problems.
Willing hands loaded the sacks of cement into barrows to carry them to the other end of Orchard Close. By the time Harold came back with the sand, the window and door frames had been taken out, and cleaned bricks stacked ready. Those already living in the row of houses were relieved at having something better than ply as protection against an attack. After some serious consultation one front door remained, faced with steel and barred on the inside. That would simplify the passage of farmers and bringing in crops. There’d be more of that next year since Emmy had already starting making noises about demolition north of the tarmac. Umeko sang happily as she worked, cheered by the news about her friend Thien.
The additional willing hands really made a difference in the gardens, or fields as they had become. Some of the extra people gathered hay for rabbits and foliage for compost deeper into the derelict housing, which led to someone rediscovering the bees. Last year the honey hunt had been abandoned after Holly’s death, but the bees had survived the winter and the rain. According to the books in the library, a beekeeper collected his harvest in August.
* * *
Despite the warm, sunny August day Harold frowned. “Can we use honey in the pipe bombs, since sugar is hard to get?”
“I don’t know. Possibly?” Barry chuckled, unusually for him when bombs were mentioned. “You’re a braver man than me if you take honey off the girl club.”
“Whatever we get won’t all be fit to eat. Some will get too dirty or have squished bees in it I’m sure. Well?” Harold finished checking that the four layers of net curtains covering Barry’s wide hat hung well clear of his skin at the back as well as across his face.
“Haven’t we got enough bombs?” Barry turned. “Let me check your netting now.”
“For one attack, I hope. I still get the collywobbles over how fast all the firearms ammo and the arrows went when the rioters came.” Harold turned for Barry to check the back. “With the sugar shortage we won’t be able to build more bombs very quickly.”
“Maybe we can, without either sugar or honey. There’ll be ways I’m sure when I think carefully about what burns fast and all that. I just didn’t up to now.” Barry sighed. “I’m still not really comfortable making things burn or bang.”
“Sorry, but Caddi or Hawkins will just commandeer everyone else’s sugar in their patch if they needs some pipe bombs.” Harold frowned, unseen under the netting. “I can’t or won’t work like that.”
Barry shrugged. “If it becomes urgent ask for sugar. Tell everyone why, and I’ll bet you get donations. There’s also all that old petrol. A bit of bang in a container of that will be quite effective.” The next part came out sad but determined. “In the meantime I’ll think about it on an evening.”
“If you can with Violet squalling.”
“She doesn’t.” Barry sounded defensive. “Anyway I can’t hear properly in that granny flat. Grandad flat now.”
“Alicia is sure you’ll hear if she yells help, though these days she’ll probably shoot the scroat herself. She might still call for help, to shift the body.” Harold sniggered. “There was a book on you and Alicia at one bit but that’s died off.”
“Cripes no, I’m old enough to be her grandad.” Barry laughed. “I had to be useful someplace once Doll went into the girl club and Finn moved into Cherry Tree House. I moved into the flat because Abigail likes having a babysitter handy.”
“Odd that, Finn moving straight after June and Janine did. T
hough that could be tricky because they’re sharing a flat.” Harold pointed. “Here come the bee bashers.” Another dozen people dressed in thick clothes and gloves with cuffs carefully tied to seal them were coming across the open stretch of gardens. They also wore headgear with wide brims and lots of net curtaining.
Twenty minutes later they were all very, very pleased they’d been paranoid about sealing up. “I thought smoke calmed them!” Jeremy stood almost in the deliberately smoky fire just upwind of the bees’ nest, shaking to get rid of his buzzing passengers.
“Maybe this is calm, or maybe these bees have got a bit more African Killer in them than most?” Barry wafted smoke towards the pile of bricks and a seething mass of very angry stinging insects, taking his turn with the piece of plywood.
“Just remember to replace the bricks afterwards. We want to come back next year.” Harold kept wanting to brush the bees off his netting but Bernie already made that mistake, pushing the net too close to his face. He’d gone to find Patricia after suffering at least four stings.
“You can come back if you want but not me. Cripes Harold, what happens if they follow us to reclaim their honey?” Patty also raised a hand to brush at the bees but remembered not to.
“They won’t because they’ll be guarding and mending the hive. Come on, the sooner we get this done the better. Careful! Bloody Hell!” Despite the buzzing cloud those actually removing bricks paused for a moment as the first comb came into view.
“Ooh, yummy. Carefully now, try to get whole pieces. Use the ladles and spatulas.” Patty had forgotten all about brushing bees.
“Somebody pass me a dish, a big one.” June carefully lifted a brick with a section of comb attached. “Scrape that for me please,”
“Remember, we leave them plenty for winter. Don’t take it all.”
“Yes daddy. Honey daddy. Is that like a sugar daddy?” Liz looked at Harold. “That’s not fair, I daren’t stick my tongue out at you.”
