The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn

by Dreyer, V. L.

  Within just a few minutes – about ten or fifteen, I estimated – we were bouncing our way out of the countryside and back into relative civilization. Abandoned buildings sprang up out of the overgrown lawns and gardens on the right, while the left side of the road was lined by heavy bush.

  Remembering the instructions Rebecca Merrit had conveyed to us, I kept an eye out for something obvious to mark our path. She hadn’t been specific on what she’d be using, though. I could see Michael looking around too, and in the end he spotted it before I did. He shouted and waved, which brought our little column to a halt.

  A moment later, I saw what had caught his eye – a bright yellow high-visibility vest tied to a tree, flapping languidly in the breeze. As she’d promised, it really couldn’t have been any more obvious. As soon as Tane stopped our bike, I leapt off and hurried over to examine the flapping cloth, with Michael and Hemi hot on my heels.

  “I think there’s a walkway back here.” I reached out and moved aside a branch, revealing a deep, cavernous gloom beneath the trees. It had the look of a tunnel, trimmed back to be easy to traverse on foot, but the branches hung too low for the bikes to pass safely.

  “We’ll go find somewhere to hide the bikes, and then we’ll follow you, eh?” Hemi glanced at me for confirmation. I nodded, so he hurried off. Priya scampered over to join us, looking refreshed and high-spirited after her exciting ride on the back of a quad bike, with the dog close behind her.

  With Michael and me in the lead, and Priya behind us, we set off down the dark pathway to see what lay beyond. The passage was so narrow and dark that it felt like travelling through a cave. Behind me, I heard Michael muttering as low-hanging branches tugged at his hair, and even I had to duck on occasion to avoid getting a twig in the eye.

  Every so often, a metal pole divided the path into bike lanes; we could feel concrete under the leaf litter beneath our feet. Once, this had been a public walkway and cycle track, for tourists wanting to visit the power station. Now, it was something else entirely. The wilds had reclaimed it. Walking that track was a strange experience but somehow comforting, kind of like being back in nature’s womb.

  Eventually, I saw filtered sunlight dancing across the end of the path, startlingly bright after the tunnel’s gloom. I stepped out into the sunlight, raising a hand to shield my eyes – and drew a sharp breath of surprise.

  “Oh, lordy,” Michael rumbled as he drew up beside me, staring at the bridge. The walkway terminated in a small, open area that bordered the edge of the Arapuni gorge. A hundred metres below us, the river rumbled over rapids. The bridge that spanned the gap was little more than rails and netting with a narrow walkway down the middle.

  I picked my stomach up from about my knees, and took a long, deep breath. “At least the bridge is still intact. No holes… I’m not sure I could handle holes.”

  “I feel like I should make a joke about that,” Michael answered, “but I can’t think of one right now.” He looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Do you want me to go first?”

  “No… no, I’ve got this.” I’m not entirely sure if I was trying to reassure him, or myself. Regardless, I swallowed hard and stepped out onto the bridge, expecting it to bounce and sway beneath my weight. To my relief, it didn’t.

  As terrifyingly exposed as it felt, the bridge had clearly been designed with public safety in mind. The entire length of the crossing was lined by a mesh fence nearly twice my height; if I wanted to fall off, I would have to put some serious effort into it. Unfortunately, I could still see through the mesh, so knowing that I was safe didn’t help with the vertigo.

  As I stepped out further onto the narrow walkway I felt the bridge swing languidly in the wind, but it didn’t bounce or jostle the way many rope bridges did. This one was steel and chain rather than wood and rope. Even the panels that made up the footpath had metal peeking out through the wooden veneer. I let out a sharp breath and tried to relax, reassuring myself that I wasn’t going to fall.

  When I heard the others filter out onto the bridge behind me, I paused to turn and check on them. Michael was assisting a nervous-looking Priyanka with gentle words, holding her hand as he led her out onto the span. It was only then, when we were fully committed to the bridge, that we heard a voice call out to us.

  “Hold it right there!” It was a male voice, and it was shouting. “Do not come one step closer, or I will drop you.”

  I froze. Those words told me that the speaker was armed, and meant business. Although it was completely against all of my basic instincts, I managed to release my death-grip on the handrails and slowly raise my hands above my head in the universal sign of surrender. Closer to the start of the bridge, I saw Michael do the same whilst discreetly inserting his bulk between the gunman and our young charge.

  “That’s right. Now, turn around slowly. No sudden moves.” The instructions were obviously for me, so I did as I was told. It was difficult to move slowly when every one of my instincts was screaming to get the hell off that bridge and back onto solid land. “Identify yourselves and tell me why the hell I shouldn’t shoot you.”

  “We were invited here,” I called back, mentally cringing at how out-of-breath I sounded. My heart was racing more and more the longer I stayed up there. I could feel panic gripping at the edge of my psyche, running icy talons up the back of my neck. “Rebecca Merrit invited us. Check with her, she’ll tell you. She said that you needed help, so here we are. My name is Sandy.”

  My answer was silence.

  I realised suddenly that I was trembling all over, whether from adrenaline or basic animal terror; it felt like the chasm was drawing me over the edge even though I wasn’t moving. My breathing had accelerated to the point that I was panting, and I felt the tickle of sweat gathering on my forehead. If I didn’t get off that bridge soon—

  “Why are you armed?” the voice demanded suddenly, interrupting my internal monologue.

  “You told us it was pig country,” I answered, with a stab of annoyance. They had asked us for help, and yet we were the ones getting interrogated? “By the way, you failed to mention that Pukeatua is neo-Nazi territory. We almost got shot getting here. Come on, Jim – let us off this damn bridge. We’ve brought rum.”

  “Rum? But I asked for vodka,” the man complained, but my words had the desired effect. He stepped out of the brush where he’d been hiding, a long hunting rifle nestled in the crook of his bandaged arm. “Well, come on then. Hurry up, we don’t have all day.”

  Gun or no gun, I couldn’t get myself off that bridge fast enough. As soon as my feet hit solid ground, I nearly collapsed with relief. A second later, Michael and Priyanka joined me, and the three of us clung together for a moment to recover. The dog bounded along after us, showing no sign of being any the worse for wear for his adventure.

  “I really don’t like heights,” I admitted, letting Michael’s comforting bulk steady me until I felt better. Then I turned and looked at the portly man that had briefly held us hostage, studying him. He was an older fellow that I estimated to be in his late fifties, but it was hard to tell. A ring of scrabby reddish-blonde curls stuck out over his ears, but other than that he was completely bald. He had the heavy summer tan, rough skin, and beer gut of the typical Kiwi bloke, but there was a degree of intensity about his eyes that the average bloke didn’t have.

  “You said it was just going to be two of you,” he accused. “You didn’t say anything about a kid or a dog.”

  “We found them along the way,” I explained. “We couldn’t very well leave them behind. However, you’ll be happy to know we managed to convince five of our big, strapping friends to join us and help clear up your problem.”

  “Five?” The man’s eyes widened. “Cripes, that’s more than we expected. We didn’t even know there were that many people left in the Waikato.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I answered sympathetically, relaxing now that I was out of harm’s way. Sure, he was carrying a gun, but so was I. Neither of us w
ere aiming at one another. “My group consists of five people, six if you count Priyanka here, plus our friends have a group of eleven.”

  “Bloody hell.” Jim itched at his balding pate with his good hand. “Had no idea. Figured there was maybe a half-a-dozen folks still around, but no more than that.”

  “You kept the power going all these years for a half-dozen people?” I asked, incredulous and a bit stupefied.

  “Well, I’ve been working here since I was a pup. Keeping this power station going is all I know. I ain’t got no family, so when the plague took my mates I just stayed here, kept doing what I’ve always done.” The man absently rubbed his jaw and lifted his good shoulder in a shrug. “Then I found Rebecca in town. She’d had a bit of trouble with a few lads further south, so we decided to get married to keep her out of trouble. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m going to tell her you said that.”

  “Hah.” Jim grunted a laugh as well. “The old bat already knows. Bloody nag, never lets me get a moment’s rest.” Despite the aggression in his words, his tone was affectionate.

  A shout from the other side of the bridge drew our attention. I turned and saw Hemi and his crew gathered on the far side. With a wave, I beckoned for them to join us despite the wary look on Jim’s face.

  He relaxed once introductions were made. For some reason, knowing someone’s name made them seem infinitely less hostile. Besides, we were a generally good-natured crew, and we came bearing booze. When Jim finally consented to lead us off towards the power station, there was a fair amount of joking and heckling going on between us, which seemed to put him at ease.

  Michael and I followed Jim, with the rowdy group of lads, Priya and our dog strung out in a pack behind us. I glanced back to check on my small charge, and found her staring adoringly up at Hemi. Amused, I shook my head and smiled to myself. Oh, how quickly her opinion of him had changed.

  Suddenly, an arm snuck around my waist, and took me by surprise. I shot a curious glance at Michael and found him chatting away with our host despite the possessive grip. Though he was still smiling and joking, I could see a strange tightness around his eyes that confused me. It took a few seconds for me to realise that it was nervous jealousy.

  That was an emotion I had only seen from him once before, when we’d first met Hemi’s enigmatic mother. Although I had no sexual interest in women, I found her fascinating to the point of being hypnotic, and Michael had seemed irked by that fact.

  Now, I realised it was the fact that, aside from Priya, we were completely surrounded by men. I could only imagine he felt some basic animal need to exert his ownership over me, as the only adult female in the group. I didn’t really mind, per se, but it was a strange feeling and left me a little uncomfortable. The thought of being claimed like a piece of meat was not a happy one, but I knew Michael didn’t think of me that way. It was an instinctual thing, and I would probably have felt the same way if we’d been surrounded by a pack of women, and Michael had been the only virile man in sight. Hell, that made me nervous just thinking about it.

  All of a sudden, I felt an overwhelming need to reassure him that he had my full attention, and I simply wasn’t interested in anyone else. I placed an arm around his waist and leaned against him comfortably, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. That was enough.

  As it turned out, access to the power station was not for the faint of heart. Jim led us down the steepest flight of stairs I’d ever seen in my life, a concrete pathway etched directly into the side of the gorge. Through a mesh of overgrown branches, the river valley opened up below us; it was a sight of unparalleled beauty that took my breath away even more than the steep descent did.

  The river was the colour of carved greenstone, still running high after the recent storms. It wound between steep hillsides lined with thick bush. I found myself amazed by the fact that the trees and ferns had managed to survive clinging to the slopes, but not only had they survived, they’d flourished. The closer to the riverside that we got, the louder the rush of water became. By the time we reached the landing, it was loud enough that it was getting hard to hear anyone’s voice.

  If this is how loud it is when the station is off, how do they get any sleep when it’s running?

  I glanced around the massive concrete platform curiously; the power station was enormous, possibly the single largest human-made structure I’d seen in my life. A relatively narrow concrete walkway ran around the edge of the monolithic structure; although it seemed slender compared to the size of the station, it was easily wide enough to drive two trucks down side-by-side.

  There were no trucks, of course. I saw no sign of a road or access-way to the lower portion of the station, so there was no way to get them down there.

  To our left, a concrete wall rose ten or fifteen metres above my head, perhaps more. It was hard to get a sense of scale on a building so impossibly large, particularly when a significant portion of it was buried within the rock wall of the gorge. Enormous windows glinted in the sun, but they were up too high for me to be able to see inside.

  Jim opened a door and led us in. I found myself feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, stepping through a door that looked so tiny compared to the monstrous wall it was set into. We entered a hallway that was of a more normal scale, and were shown about a dense network of old offices that had been converted into living space. The thick concrete drowned out the rush of the water, so it was relatively quiet inside.

  “Rebecca?” Jim bellowed his wife’s name suddenly, startling me with the volume of his voice inside an enclosed space. “Where the hell are you, woman?”

  “In here,” a female voice replied through a partially-open doorway. Jim shoved the door the rest of the way open and strode in, muttering to himself beneath his breath.

  “Visitors,” Jim grunted noncommittally, then promptly left the lot of us in his wife’s care and stomped off about whatever business he thought was so much more important than us.

  “Welcome, and sorry about my husband,” Rebecca greeted us, glowering in the direction her antisocial spouse had gone. Introductions were made, and explanations for the unexpected presence of our new companions.

  Unlike her husband, Rebecca Merrit didn’t seem bothered. I found myself taking an instant liking to her as she led us through the warren of old offices and storage rooms beneath the power station, assigning us sleeping quarters.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have enough beds for everyone,” she admitted, looking apologetic. “We weren’t quite expecting this many people. I’ve only made up two, but we can probably drag a few more out of storage tomorrow. It’s a little hard, what with Jim’s arm.”

  “It’s fine,” I answered, and gave her a smile. “I think we’re all used to sleeping on the ground from time to time. So long as we don’t wake up covered in dew, anywhere you can spare is just fine.”

  “That much I can definitely do,” she agreed, smiling back at me.

  She was at least a decade younger than her husband, fit and spry with no trace of grey in her long, brunette hair. Although her hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail and she was wearing men’s clothing, she was slim, vivacious, and full of life – the complete opposite of her portly, grim-faced husband. The comparison amused me, though I thought it impolitic to mention it to either of them.

  “Now, I’m assuming you boys don’t mind letting the ladies have the good beds?” she asked, shooting a pointed look at the men trailing along behind us. They’d obviously been well trained by Anahera, so her question was met with noises of consent.

  She showed me and Michael to one room, and Priya to another across the hall from us, then left us there to get settled in. The ‘good bed’ was nothing more than a narrow cot with a thin mattress, but neither of us minded. We’d shared a similar sized bed back in Hamilton. We didn’t mind getting cosy for a few nights.

  Priyanka, on the other hand, was thrilled at having a room to sleep i
n with a real bed. “Mine room, for me!” she told us with great glee, bouncing back and forth between the chambers. As relieved as I was to see her happy again, I found myself wondering about the issue of privacy.

  “We should figure out how to lock the door,” I commented dryly, shooting Michael a pointed sideways look. He instantly took my meaning and laughed merrily.

  As though to prove my point, Priya promptly stuck her head in the room to find out what we were giggling about. I burst into laughter as well. Poor little Priyanka just stared at us, bewildered, like all the adults in her life had suddenly gone mad.

  There were some things in life that I just wasn’t ready to explain to a cloistered thirteen-year-old yet. It was safe to assume someone would have to have The Talk with her at some stage, but today was not the day.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the time everyone had settled into their rooms and changed out of their grubby travelling clothes, there were only a few hours left until sunset. We left Jim with his prescription of booze and painkillers, and headed out to inspect the work that needed to be done.

  Hemi, Michael and I followed Rebecca, with Hemi taking the leadership role for his group in his mother’s absence. It seemed like a natural progression; despite his youth, Hemi appeared to have inherited his mother’s organisational abilities, and at least a little of her charisma.

  Rebecca led us out of the building, and along a walkway around the edge of the power station. Eventually, we made our way down another narrow set of concrete stairs onto a smaller ledge that ran just above the water line. About half way between one end of the station and the other, Rebecca stopped and pointed at the concrete beneath our feet.

  “These are the intake vents.” Rebecca knelt down on the concrete and leaned forward. I joined her, and stared where she pointed. “There’s a grille over them that normally stops things from getting into the vents, but the storm knocked a big tree over. Somehow, the tree went right through the grille. It’s lodged in the intake down there.”