by Perrin Briar
“So?” Liz said.
“So, if they were like that with fuel what are they going to be like when food, water and safety become scarce? I’m not saying we shouldn’t communicate with that ship, but we should be cautious. We’re lucky to be here. Some people might try to take it away from us. The world is not the same as we remember, and it’s too easy to forget that on the safety of this island.”
A shadow of worry and concern was cast across Bill’s face.
“What’s wrong, Bill?” Liz said. “You haven’t been the same since the bombers came. What is it?”
Bill turned and Liz saw just how dark the grey circles around his eyes were.
“You need to get some sleep,” Liz said.
“I’m getting enough sleep to do what I’m doing,” Bill said. He shook his head. “I don’t know what made me think coming out to this part of the world would make our lives better.”
“Who knows what our lives would be like now if we’d stayed in Chucerne. Talk to me, Bill. If you don’t talk to me who are you going to talk to? The chimps? The owls? There’s no one else here. Tell me what’s on your mind. You never used to have a problem talking to me.”
“I don’t now, either,” Bill said. “Everything’s fine.”
That night Liz slept hardly a wink. She was facing Bill’s back. He’d started turning away from her while he slept. Before, he’d always liked to hold her while they drifted to sleep. Liz would roll him over onto his side of the bed before lying back on her own. At times she’d found it stifling, but now she yearned to feel his touch and warmth on her skin.
She watched his form now and noticed his torso did not rise and fall with the steady rhythmic undulations of sleep, but the shallow ones of wakefulness. She didn’t disturb him. Resting was better than nothing.
The sun rose above the jungle canopy, turning the sky from black to deep blue. The benefit of having no walls was the fantastic views every morning. Bill began to stir. He threw his feet over the side of the bed and sat there, unmoving. After a while, he got up and dressed.
Bill climbed down the ladder to the ground outside. The sea, calm and gentle, breathed in and out, caressing the shore the way a loving husband touched his wife. Liz felt sad.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Liz got up the next day with a bounce in her step. She washed, changed, and hopped down the ladder, crossing the clearing at a jog toward the allotment. She first passed a chunk of leaves, wadded up and wet like they’d been chewed up and spat out. Her heart almost stopped. She ran the remaining distance to the allotment, her breath catching in her throat.
“No!” she said, and even to her ears she sounded overdramatic.
She dropped to her knees, picking up peach stones and letting them slip between her fingers. Shreds of green cabbage leaves and brown potato skin peels lay discarded in small half-eaten piles. Liz leaned her head against a tree trunk.
Footprints of a dozen different animal species, large, small, thin, bird-shaped, round and punctured populated the allotment like they’d performed some kind of complicated dance. She turned to face the jungle and jabbed her fingers at the foliage.
“Damn you!” she screamed. “Damn you all to hell!”
Bill came running across the clearing. He saw Liz on her knees in the soil.
“Liz?” he said. “What’s happened?”
“The animals!” Liz said. “They’ve eaten all my fruit and vegetables!”
Bill took in the area, the wanton destruction.
“Looks like you were right,” he said. “Your fruit and veg were ripe. I’m so sorry, Liz. I know what this allotment meant to you.”
“It’s no good,” Liz said. “I’ll never grow anything here. This place is doomed.”
“You did manage to grow,” Bill said.
“But not to eat,” Liz said.
Bill pressed his fingers to the footprints.
“At least there’s some good news,” he said.
“What’s that?” Liz said.
“The creature that ate this was small, with hoofed feet,” Bill said.
“Why’s that good news?” Liz said.
“Because it means we have cattle on this island,” Bill said. “If we can track them down and catch them we could have a ready supply of meat, maybe even milk.”
“Which animals?”
“Pigs,” Bill said.
“How do you know that?” Liz said.
“I grew up on a farm, remember,” Bill said. “There are two things you never forget about a farm: every little thing about the animals, and the smell. And these prints here. Goats, I think.”
“Goats!” Liz said. “How ever did they all end up on this remote speck of an island?”
“Something had to,” Bill said. “Maybe Noah made a quick stop off and dumped a couple of the more unruly beasts. Or maybe because of the smell.”
He picked up a baby cabbage and weighed it in his hand.
“They haven’t destroyed everything,” he said. “They left some of the fruit and veg.”
“Just enough for a small salad,” Liz said.
“Or a fresh set of superior crops,” Bill said.
“Start again?” Liz said. “I’m not sure if I can. Ferrying all that poo… All for nothing. That’s it. I’m not growing vegetables any more. I’ve had enough.”
“I can build you a fence, if you want,” Bill said.
“A fence around an empty allotment?” Liz said, pouting. “Seems a waste of time to me.”
“I think we both know you’re going to try again,” Bill said.
Liz folded her arms under her breasts and turned her head away.
“You’re not the type to quit,” Bill said. “You’re worse than a dog with a new chew toy when you want something.”
Liz stared at him.
“Was that a compliment or an insult?” she said.
“Very much a compliment,” Bill said.
He bent down, picked up a soiled shovel and handed it to her.
“Get back to work,” he said.
Liz pulled her hand back, hesitating once before finally taking it.
“If I fail again I’m blaming you,” she said.
“Weren’t you going to anyway?” Bill said. “I’ll get the boys. We’ll start working on your fence now.”
“There’s no rush,” Liz said. “It’ll take a while before the seeds start sprouting. Again.”
“We both know you won’t leave me alone until I get the job done,” Bill said.
A smile cracked through Liz’s anger at that, but she forced it off her face again as she bent down and began clearing away the detritus.
Beauty sat to the side on her perch, feathers flustered and very put upon.
“Don’t worry, Beauty,” Liz said. “I know it’s not your fault.”
Beauty screeched.
“I know how you feel,” Liz said.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Look at him,” Fritz said. “Bold as brass. Not a care in the world. No care that he destroyed our main source of food. I have a mind to go over there and give him a damn good thrashing.”
The goat stood in the middle of a small clearing chewing on a mouthful of tough grass. It cast a lazy eye over its surroundings.
“How do you propose we capture him?” Ernest said. “If he runs we’ll never get him.”
“I could sneak up behind him,” Jack said. “He’s too busy chomping to notice.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bill said. “His ears are already turned toward us. He knows we’re here.”
“Then why doesn’t he run?” Ernest said. “If it were me I’d be out of here like a shot.”
“That’s because you’re a wimp,” Fritz said.
“Am not!” Ernest said.
“Quiet!” Bill said. “Though Ernest does pose an intriguing question. Why doesn’t he just leg it? But suppose he’s never seen a man before. Suppose he doesn’t know what to make of us. Suppose he naturally trusts a cre
ature that doesn’t appear to show much interest in it – the herd on the plains mentality. If I don’t appear aggressive, why should it run?”
Bill reached up and pulled down a length of thick green vine. He turned one end around itself into a slipknot. Then Bill stood up to his full height and slowly took a step toward the goat. It eyed him warily but didn’t run. Bill took another step, and the goat stepped away again, becoming skittish. Bill got on his hands and knees.
“What is he doing?” Fritz said.
“He’s making himself as small and as unintimidating as possible,” Ernest said.
“If he wanted unintimidating he should have sent you,” Fritz said.
Bill kept his eyes on the ground, shuffling forward on his hands until he felt something nibbling on the top of his head. The goat was sniffing his hair, no doubt sensing it would serve as a delicious appetiser.
Bill slipped the vine up over the goat’s muzzle and ears and slid it around his neck. Bill tightened it so it wouldn’t slip free, and then tied a knot so it wouldn’t strangle the poor creature. Bill got to his feet and waved the boys over.
“It’s okay,” Bill said. “I’ve got him.”
The boys rose and approached. The goat stepped back, disturbed by the sudden accumulation of unknown bodies.
“Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh,” Bill said to the goat. “It’s all right.”
“Mission accomplished,” Ernest said. “That was refreshingly easy.”
“Let’s head back to the treehouse,” Fritz said.
The goat turned to walk in the opposite direction.
“Too late, pal,” Ernest said. “We’ve already caught you.”
“It wants to take us somewhere,” Bill said.
“To some green grass, no doubt,” Fritz said.
The goat mehed.
“Father’s right,” Ernest said. “He wants to take us somewhere.”
The goat led them between two large trees. He leaned down to nibble at the shafts of grass.
“Surprise, surprise,” Fritz said.
Meh! Another goat said beyond the rise.
“Ernest?” Fritz said. “Was that you?”
“Yes,” Ernest said, voice dripping sarcasm. “How did you know? I’ve been working on throwing my voice lately.”
“Quiet,” Bill said.
The goat finished munching and proceeded over the rise. Sunlight streamed through the canopy like a half-drawn curtain. Glimmering motes, like planets spun out into space by a benevolent sun, danced before them. Butterflies flittered over the orchestra of flowers, chasing one another. The world was full of green and yellow tinted colours and plant life, a portrait begging to be captured by an artist. The ground felt like sponge under their feet. Looking down, Bill identified a thick moss.
“This would make great blankets, don’t you think?” Ernest said, rubbing his hand over it.
“That it would,” Bill said. “See if you can pull it up.”
Ernest tucked his fingers underneath it, lifting it, gently at first. But Bill’s eye was taken with something else.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Jack, take this.”
He handed the vine leash over to Jack. Bill knelt down and felt the soft underside petals of a bluebell. Then his fingers traced a flower with two long lines of tiny pearl-like berries.
“We’ve struck gold!” Bill said.
“Are they worth a lot of money?” Fritz said.
“More than money,” Bill said, opening his backpack. “Give me a hand with some of these. Be careful. We need to take them whole.”
“What are they?” Fritz said. “And don’t say ‘flowers’.”
“They’re plants-”
“I know they’re plants!” Fritz said.
“-we’ll use for medicinal purposes,” Bill said.
He held up the bluebell-shaped flower.
“This is a Chilly,” he said.
“Chilly,” Fritz said. “No one could come up with a better name than that?”
“It doesn’t matter what they call it,” Bill said. “It’s what it can do that matters. This flower, when properly prepared, can significantly lower fevers.”
“What about that yellow one?” Fritz said.
“This one,” Bill said, holding it up, “is a Mint Freshener.”
“What does it do?” Fritz said.
“It cures halitosis,” Bill said.
“Ernest could do with that,” Fritz said. “What about that one?”
“This one,” Bill said, plucking a purple bulb flower consisting almost entirely of needles, “is a Deew.”
“What does it do?” Fritz said.
“It makes you speak backwards,” Bill said.
Fritz frowned. Then he rolled his eyes.
“Weed,” Fritz said. “It’s a weed?”
“Not all these plants were lucky enough to be born with special properties, you know,” Bill said. “Sometimes they’re just here to make a nuisance of themselves.”
“Sounds familiar,” Fritz said drily, looking at Jack.
Ernest rolled the moss up into a wide column and held it over his shoulder like a soldier with a gun.
“This place is a pharmacist’s dream,” Bill said. “Be careful where you put your foot. A wrong turn and you might kill one of us. There are many naturally occurring medicines here. When combined we get painkillers, salves, allsorts.”
“Any cannabis?” Fritz said.
Bill glared at him. Fritz beamed and held up his hands.
“Purely for medicinal purposes,” he said.
Bill gently put his backpack on, as if he carried the cure for cancer inside.
Meh!
In Bill’s excitement he’d forgotten why he’d come to the clearing in the first place. Three goats of varying size and colour stood on the edge of the clearing, two young kids behind them. The goat tethered to the vine leash in Jack’s hand pulled. But Jack did not let go.
Meh!
“Shall I let him go play with them?” Jack said.
“No,” Bill said. “Not yet. Everyone wait here. Crouch down. Get some vines. We’ll make more leashes and take them all back home with us.”
Bill took the leashed goat and extra leads. He led the goat across the clearing. The other goats eyed him warily, but as Bill’s goat seemed unperturbed they lowered their heads back down to eat.
Bill slipped the leashes over the goats’ heads. It took some time as they refused to look up from the grass, and nibbled on the vines instead.
As Bill led the goats away, their kids followed. The eldest goat, with thick wiry hair and grey eyebrows, was obstinate and refused to budge. Jack waved a handful of moist grass under the goat’s nose to get her to follow.
“What are we going to do now?” Ernest said.
“I don’t know,” Bill said. “I didn’t expect to get this far.”
“Then what did we come out here for?” Ernest said.
Bill shrugged.
“You don’t get if you don’t try,” he said.
“Well, we tried and succeeded,” Ernest said. “Now what?”
“We’ll take them back to the treehouse,” Bill said.
“They can take Fritz’s bed,” Ernest said.
“We’ll have to build them a stable,” Bill said.
“Today?” Fritz said. “But it’s almost bedtime!”
“Never thought I’d hear you say that!” Ernest said.
“I never thought I’d be dragging a laden cart up a sheer rock cliff face for days on end, either,” Fritz said. “Do you think these goats might be able to pull the cart up the incline?”
“They’re too small,” Bill said.
Fritz’s shoulders shrank.
“You’re not getting away that easily,” Bill said.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The sun was already low over the horizon when the Robinson men emerged from the jungle with their retinue of goats in tow.
“Oh my word!” Liz said. “Where did you find them?”
“We caught one, and he led us to the others,” Bill said.
“Aw!” Liz said, covering her face with her hands. “They’re so cute!”
“They might look cute,” Bill said. “But they’ve all tried butting us any chance they get.”
“I know the feeling,” Liz said. “Getting a Robinson boy to do what you need them to feels like beating your head against a brick wall at times. Just think, we’ll have milk!”
“It’s not cow milk, but it’s better than nothing,” Bill said. “And I doubt there’s a cow knocking around here anyway. It would break its leg a dozen times before emerging from the trees.”
“But it’s something,” Liz said. “Never look a gift horse in the mouth! Or, rather, goat.”
“And we found these,” Fritz said, reaching into his pockets.
“My goodness!” Liz said, taking an apple from him and biting into it. “It tastes so good! Where did you find them?”
“They’re growing on the other side of the island,” Fritz said. “Entire bushels of them!”
He opened his backpack to reveal it was stuffed with fruit.
“Mother!” Francis said, armed with a small bag. “We kept all the seeds of the fruit we ate – so we can grow our own!”
“Good boys!” Liz said. “They’ll make a wonderful addition. If you get more seeds make sure to give them to me.”
“No more coconuts!” Ernest said. “Can you believe it?”
“I’ve never seen you boys so into eating fruit before,” Liz said.
“Point out the nearest corner shop and we’ll happily ditch this for a cheap bar of chocolate and a can of fizzy drink,” Fritz said. He rolled his eyes. “Parents. They’re never happy unless they have something to moan at us about.”
“I’m not moaning,” Liz said. “I’m just glad to see you eating healthy.”
“We also found more types of fruit,” Ernest said, reaching into the bag and extracting a green cube covered with bumps. “I call it the cubed.”
