by Vance Huxley
“He’ll be all right if he’s a gardener. We see them sometimes, a gardener with a dozen assholes in orange suits following him and a guard to keep the animals under control.” Sarge grinned. “Now you’d better get back to being law-abiding.”
“Always Sarge.” Harold lifted a hand to the squaddies in farewell and walked back down with a bit of a bounce in his step.
As he walked through Orchard Close Harold told half a dozen people about both the medal thing, and how friendly these soldiers seemed to be. He made a point of telling Emmy about how gardeners were treated. Finally Harold explained everything to Sharyn over a drink and discussed the recent trip to Caddi. When Harold told Sharyn about the number of weapons Caddi had scored, more than the Geeks, her eyes narrowed. “Geeks. Wellington. What was it about Wellington? When we were watching TV.”
“Wellington? Cripes, yes, hang on.” Harold went to look in the pocket of his long leather coat, the one for disguising rifles. The front of the envelope said Soldier Boy in looping script. Harold took it back through. He explained the strange conversation, then had a look at the contents. The short letter shocked him, especially coming from a Geek.
‘To anyone reading this, the young woman known as Ly Thien or Thien has been given permission to leave the Geek Freeks compound and live wherever she wishes. Signed Wellington – Geek warchief and senior manager.’
“Cripes. The rest of the Geeks keep making jokes about him and his woman, even the Barbies do. Now he’s given her a free pass, because Wellington told me she’d be carrying another copy.” Harold smiled. “Einstein will choke if she comes here and I wave this.” Harold’s smile widened. “With luck he’ll call me a liar so I can kill the little shit.”
Sharyn read the letter. “She’s got to get here first.”
Harold’s smile never faltered. “He’s their general or warchief so I’ll bet she’s got a way out, one that gives her a running start.” He smirked. “Did Gayle really inject Wellington with decency and good manners when she fixed his teeth?”
“Maybe. Now who do we tell? Just in case you aren’t here.” Sharyn paused rather than mention her brother might be dead. “Shopping or something?” She brightened. “Shopping will be easier for you since our new soldiers had a good look at the battle bus and saw us on TV.” Sharyn might be happier but nothing like as relieved as Harold. All the soldiers must have seen the news report so they were less likely to think of the people in Orchard Close as animals.
“We tell Umeko for starters since they’re friends. Then Emmy, Alfie and Casper because one will be on duty at the gate, then Patty, Matthew and Bess in case she comes across the fields. Liz because otherwise she’ll beat on me. Who else?” Harold looked at the letter again. “I’d nail this to the dance house door but someone would say something to wind a scroat up. Then the Geeks would find out.”
“I’ll choose a couple of the Coven, and maybe another couple of the girl club. We’ll cover it.” Sharyn smiled happily. “That really has cheered me up, because apparently miracles can happen.” Harold debated briefly, then left the rabbit news until the following day, when he went to the expert first.
* * *
Harold found the expert tending to rabbits, of course. “Hi Bob. Do you prefer Bob or Rabbit Bob?”
“I don’t mind. The Rabbit Bob name stopped confusion with another Bob but he’s with the Barbies now.” Rabbit Bob closed a hutch and came out of the garage, carefully changing his shoes so one pair never came outside the door. “Now why did you want me because it wasn’t about my name?”
“No. It’s about that Myxomatosis warning on the TV? I’ve heard disturbing things. I’m even more worried after seeing the shoe shuffle.” As Harold explained, Rabbit Bob’s worried frown deepened.
He thought for a few moments. “We can start by keeping each garage separated, with different food stock, different keepers, the droppings on a different compost heap, the full bit. Do you have any spare mesh?”
Since Patty had salvaged every scrap of net curtaining or mesh fencing within two square miles, Harold thought there must be some spare. “Some, for fruit trees and bushes or bee hats?”
“We could rabbit fence some areas to grow food for these? Otherwise the wild ones might leave infections.” Bob scratched his head. “It’s a pity we can’t raid a vet’s to look for drugs.”
“After the crash I stripped a few vet’s practices because Patricia could use some of the medicine, but I didn’t know which.” Harold smiled. “She should have the rest someplace because we don’t throw much away.”
Rabbit Bob brightened. “In that case your vet, er, doctor might have something for rabbits?”
“We can but ask. If not I’ll try the Barbies in case the pet shop had vet supplies.” As they walked to the hospital Rabbit Bob went into more detail. Harold zoned out while the breeder went through all the vet supplies with Patricia.
“Well?”
“Good news and bad, of course. There’s injections for both Viral Haemorrhagic Disease and Myxomatosis but not enough for more than the breeding stock. The ones being raised for meat will always be at risk.” Rabbit Bob shrugged. “We’ll tighten up all round, but protecting food supplies will be hardest. Can you get any more rabbit pellets?”
“Maybe. The Barbies were really nosy about the last lot. Worse, I’m not sure how much they’ve got left.” Harold hoped the Barbies wanted more bespoke knitwear in exchange because he still didn’t repair guns for them. He’d been tempted but if the GOFS hadn’t mentioned it there might be a reason. Harold wasn’t keen on the news spreading anyway because that could attract unwelcome attention. “You’ll want to talk to the boss gnome, Emmy, about fencing and all that.”
Harold left Rabbit Bob and Emmy deep in a discussion about rabbit fencing and which areas to protect. He sent a message to the Barbies, not hard just now since one or another of their fighters visited every couple of days to update everyone on Doll. Harold encouraged that by giving the first each day a free beer.
Three days later Chandra turned up. “Doll is fine, but no visitors allowed. Doc says she’s definitely out of danger. Do I get the beer?” Chandra took a swig from the free bottle she’d already received as a visiting leader. “Cy should survive though he’ll take a bit longer. So far neither is up to anything more than exchanging a few words. I’ll let you know if she needs her chastity belt.”
“Give her a cane and he’ll get the message.” Harold grinned. “If she chucks the cane away cover your eyes. Speaking of chastity leads me to rabbits and their lack of it, sort of. Have you any more rabbit pellets?”
“For your pet rabbits who might be lunch rabbits?” Chandra held up a hand. “We know you’ve got some. That bloody great load of bunny food you traded was a big hint. We’ve had a lot of fun trying to get details but so far it’s tantalising hints. Anyone would think your lot enjoyed the questioning.” Her eyes narrowed. “Have you raised wild ones, because we’re considering that before the Myxi gets here? Is it right that makes them fatter, as someone hinted?”
“First you’ll give us pellets for lessons in how to keep your bunnies safe because I’ve got an expert. Then I’ll answer the other question and you’ll give me more of something we want.” Harold had just decided to trade a few live baby bunnies to the Barbies, just in case all the ones here were wiped out.
“Hah, you’ve always got an expert.” Her eyes widened. “F... Cripes, the expert came with those refugees because that’s when you suddenly wanted the pellets.” A big smile spread across her face. “Some of the ones we took will know.”
“They’ll know why we wanted pellets, but they won’t be experts.” Ten minutes later Rabbit Bob wearing a balaclava came in with Mopsy and a twelve week old prospective dinner.
Five minutes after that Chandra had been convinced that the whole idea would work at Beth’s. “I will have to talk to Christie or Malibu because of the secrecy and price?” She grinned. “I could just take this bloke and these two bunnies back with
me in the morning to help explain?”
“Naughty. Play nice.” Harold frowned. “Are you staying over?” He hadn’t registered how late Chandra had arrived, but dusk had definitely started to gather.
“Yes but hard luck, you aren’t my type. I’ve been told about these wild parties once the gates close at night?” Chandra giggled. “Even if you won’t throw one, I might get lucky?” She held up both hands. “In the rules I promise. I’ll just slip into something more comfortable so I can relax.”
Harold burst out laughing. “You’re only wearing a pair of curtains, or you are since you took off your jeans and knickers for the search.”
“I wanted to welcome Alfie back on duty.” Chandra grinned. “Anyway, this is uncomfortable. The laces leave marks everywhere. Patty could check and let you know?” Afterwards several people told Harold about Chandra turning up in the canteen to relax over an evening meal. She wore a white knitted dress that fitted like a glove but with all the holes looked more like a colander or net curtain.
Within the week a deal had been arranged for a baby buck from Mopsy and Rocket Man, and a pair of baby does, one from each of two other breeding mothers. Breeding pairs having the same daddy didn’t matter with rabbits, Rabbit Bob assured both Harold and the Barbies. The bunnies, with some warm woollens instead of lacy skin tight versions, would be exchanged for another load of rabbit pellets once the weather allowed. That proviso had been added since a light covering of snow had fallen, and if more fell there were no snowploughs or gritters.
* * *
Just before the bunny pellets arrived Harold saw a lot less happy coming up this Christmas, at least for some. He’d just come down after Daisy-story. Sharyn headed for the kitchen to get a drink, then froze.
“Not all local citizens are as public-minded as those we showed previously. Here they combined with the scum to overwhelm the mart guards and Army post.”
Both of them rushed for the settee to watch. Onscreen a repeat of the attack on the London mart played out. The background and detail were different, but once again the attackers overwhelmed an Army post then surged over the fence around the mart. No locals turned up to help, no helicopters or grenades or lorry loads of squaddies arrived in the nick of time. Smoke arced through the air from the mob, explosions ripped through the guards and the armoured car burst into flame before exploding.
Sharyn took Harold’s hand. “Where is it Harold? Is it here?” With the light snow over everything, neither of them could see any distinguishing features.
“I can’t tell.” Harold tried to see something, anything, then he blew out a long breath in relief. “I just saw snow on steep hills in the distance. There’s no deep snow here or hills like that. I’m sorry for the poor sods up there, but relieved because that’s got to be a good way north.”
“Thank all and any gods.”
“Amen.”
They sat watching as the mob ransacked the mart until the artillery crashed down. The survivors scattered while flames blossomed in the battered store. While the fires took hold, a convoy of lorries and an armoured vehicle with a cannon pulled up. Riflemen poured out to engage anyone attempting to leave the city.
“These residents of Glasgow have shown that they are allied to the criminals and revolutionaries. After such unprovoked murder and destruction SainsMorr Mart have closed their outlets, followed by all the other marts around Glasgow. The government supports them in this action, and have advised the marts to remain closed until the situation has been assessed. We will investigate to see if this is an isolated incident, or if the city has risen in rebellion. Be confident that your government remains vigilant in your protection.”
Harold kept very quiet about the ancient armoured car that burned too easily, a museum piece he thought. He didn’t wonder aloud about the difference between two lorry-loads of squaddies at the local mart, and the convoy that arrived in Glasgow. A total lack of close-ups didn’t help alleviate Harold’s paranoia.
* * *
The news subdued the excitement in Orchard Close during the run-up to Christmas but didn’t completely depress everyone because the fairies, or their lights, were back. Now that the bare winter fields stretched away over a quarter mile in three directions, bereft of cover, the residents decided they were safe enough to put up their Christmas lights again. Many people had a string of coloured bulbs they put up inside, but now they brought out the large coloured bulbs and illuminated santas, reindeer and snowmen found in attics and sheds as they scavenged.
The first time Roy came home to find the place alight he stood for a long time at the gate, slowly shaking his head in sheer disbelief. The fairy glows were usually used to warn the sentries that returning scavengers were friends. Now various residents, especially the girl club, wore them as festive jewellery. They were used as hair decoration, or worn by the soup and chips women when they went up to see the soldiers. By the time the four men left to go back on duty Roy had been inveigled into wearing a string of glows though he had to leave them at the gate.
Both Finn and Trev were pressed into service to repair wiring or control boxes. Finn even ran a wire out to the potential forest so two of the baby Leylandii could twinkle through the night. The sergeant wondered if someone with a rifle might target the residents, but after two nights of illuminations agreed the plethora of moving, twinkling and flashing colours would probably confuse any marksman.
In quieter moments many of the residents discussed Glasgow. Nobody could work out what sort of lunacy had possessed the attackers for them to do that? Nor could anyone understand why the Glasgow locals allowed the mob to succeed without even trying to stop them? Worse, were there idiots elsewhere in their own city who might do the same? Every city now lived with that same threat, that one set of lunatics would leave them starving, because nobody expected the Glasgow marts to open again.
Perhaps because of those thoughts, rather than romantic ones, the Christmas Eve dance had more slow numbers. Even the fancy dress reflected that, with long dresses and suits for most to follow an older, more Victorian or maybe Edwardian theme. The usual suspects went as elves and fairies but even those were quieter, the modestly dressed versions.
Christmas Day brought another reminder of how much had been lost, of how life had changed. Every single Christmas card had been handmade or re-used, as had the wrapping paper. Most of the little extras and luxuries found during the first two years of scavenging were gone. Instead, gifts tended more towards homemade items, often decorated or personalised with more enthusiasm than skill. Kerry had her own elves now, the sewing and embroidering type who wanted to learn more.
Many residents parted with a few coupons to have their own efforts finished or decorated properly as Christmas presents. Others were attempting knitting while both a crochet and quilting club had started. Several men turned to making small gifts such as ear muffs or even mittens from white rabbit fur, while the more ambitious went for making doll houses or even little stick dolls and animals. The first attempts at colouring the white rabbit fur turned up Christmas morning.
Not all the presents were home-made or decorative. “Will you stop that!”
A totally unrepentant beaming smile showed around the kitchen door before Daisy raced in to scoop up her arrow. “I have to practice. Patty says if I want to be a proper Bat to protect against scroats I have to practice. Emmy says I have to build up the muscles to reload, and Fergie says I have to practice creeping up and pouncing.” She stopped for a moment, frowning. “That might have been about boys.” The miniature assassin crouched, moving towards the door with her crossbow at the ready. “Shhh, Uncle-Harold is coming in.”
“Good, serves him right.” Sharyn kept her voice down now and a smirk appeared on her face, because Harold had given Daisy the crossbow for Christmas.
A shout of alarm and peals of Daisy laughter meant she’d found a new victim. “Cripes, Sharyn. Isn’t anywhere safe these days?”
“Come into the kitchen, Liz, it’s an arrow-free
zone.” Sharyn raised her voice. “Because the next arrow coming in here gets baked into Daisy’s apple pie.” A wordless protest from the other room died away as Daisy went hunting for more victims.
“Which benighted fool gave her that? My heart can’t stand that sort of welcome.” Liz frowned as she came in. “Now I know why Wills grinned when he let me in.” An outburst of excited barking meant Daisy had found another victim, one who wouldn’t mind being hunted as long as fuss and play were involved and maybe a treat. “What is that arrow made of anyway because it nearly had my eye out?”
“No it didn’t. The arrows are foam so to be honest they’ll not last two days. I worry a lot more about what Daisy replaces them with. That is a child’s crossbow, a real child’s version not those vicious things the scavengers found just after the crash.” Sharyn sighed. “Uncle-Harold gave her the damn thing as a Christmas present, then went out to check the walls.”
“Ooh, sneaky. Where the hell did he find that?”
“The scavengers looking for boarding that can’t have been infected by a wild rabbit are taking the floors out of lofts, since rabbits don’t climb ladders. Harold told me that crossbow turned up hidden in a loft. I can guess why. Somebody must have been treated to this sort of onslaught.” Sharyn did a double-take. “What are those?”
“These are earmuffs so that my delicate ears aren’t ruined by the noise when I’m beating iron. They’re from a secret admirer.” Liz took off the pair of rabbit-fur pads on a headband that probably came from a pair of earphones. “Look, rainbows and a heart.”
Sharyn looked at the brightly coloured stains on the white fur. “If you say so. Your secret admirer obviously never paid attention to your musical preferences. Harold reckons that drowns out the metal beating when it’s turned up.”
Liz preened. “I don’t care, I’ve never had a secret admirer before. I’m more the drag ‘em into the bedroom type. These might not stop the noise but they’ll keep my ears warm which will come in handy when my charcoal runs out again. Anyway, stop changing the subject, or rather stopping me from changing it. Has Fergie been lurking?”
