Resource Economies
Traverse Davies
November 30, 2017
Acknowledgements
First: For my son Alex.
There are a few other people I should thank.
Irina. I know things didn’t work out, but I will always remember you. You supported me while I wrote this, and I am grateful until the end of time.
Sasha. A true friend through many years. Your friendship means more to me than you can know.
Marketa. Any errors in this manuscript are mine. Any errors that are not here are due to the efforts of Marketa Sowers, a great editor (if I’d followed all of her advice this would be a better book I’m sure).
There are a million others, if I thanked everyone I owe thanks to this section would be longer than the rest of the book.
Intro
Tyson decided that he was a miner. It was a better name than scavenger, or vulture. Yes, he was picking through the bones of a dead civilization, pulling whatever nutrients he could from its decaying corpse, but he was doing it with a pick axe - so a miner.
It was hot, sweltering in fact. Who would have thought that they would run into a heat wave in Cape Breton? It didn’t help that they had to wear dust masks the whole time, something to keep the mold and powdered drywall out of their lungs, out of their noses. They worked six abreast, swinging picks into the dead structures that used to make up Sydney, Nova Scotia.
Tyson was young, and strong. When the world died, he’d been a child, too young to understand what was happening. His entire life was lived in this brave new world, a world of salvage, of carrion. His home, the city of New Hope, was the only place he’d ever seen that had living humans in it. Sydney was not that. The zombies roamed, emaciated and decayed, but somehow still moving, as they had been for twenty years. Still, Sydney was a small place, and there was a fence. A large chain link barrier keeping the zombies away from him and his men.
Tyson yelled to the foreman “Hey, time for a break yet?”
“You work until I say convict” the foreman gave him the finger. Tyson figured that meant it was time for a break. The foremen, Jack, was his best friend. A dick, but fun at a party, hard working, a decent guy over all. Tyson and the others sat down and broke out their canteens.
One thing about the reclamation project, you couldn’t trust the local water. They had to filter and boil all of it, so it was hard to get enough. A day like this, the mercury hovering around thirty, was hard to deal with. They were all soaked with sweat, dirty and tired. Jack sat down with them.
“Good progress today boys. Keep going at this rate and we might have a full load by… 20 years from now?”
“Shut up ya prick. You want things to go faster, grab a pick and get to work.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that. We don’t need anybody to watch the fence, keep an eye out for z’s inside, none of that. I figure we all get eaten it’ll keep you from having to do any real work, should make you happy.”
Break over they got back to it.
The hours passed, they were deep in the building now. They had managed to pull a couple of hundred pieces of rebar for smelting and recasting (and even a couple dozen that might be usable as is). The sun was heading down, so it was time to get back on ship. Working outside was alright, sleeping outside was way too big a risk. They headed down to the shore, to what was left of the dock.
Tyson noticed something moving from the edge of his vision. Zombies, inside the fence. Not a big deal, they were all armed and capable or they wouldn’t have been there. A lot of zombies though. He nudged Brandon, a big guy about his age, and pointed. Brandon tapped Jack. The zombies didn’t seem to be heading toward them yet, so they wanted to be silent if they could.
The zombies were shambling, aimless and grotesque. How the hell had a group that size breached the fence? There were a few hundred of them, far too many to fight. Just then one of them seemed to look their way, and he started to move as fast as he could. Jack yelled “Run.”
They started to move, fast, toward the dock and the waiting boat. The small boat was their way out, their way home. They had left two guys in the boat to watch it. Emile and Rich. Emile stood up in the bow, looked at them, looked at the horde, and did the unthinkable. He cast off.
It would have been close, but Tyson and his crew would have been there before the zombies reached them, Tyson was sure of it. “You fucking cowards, wait. Fucking wait for fucks sake.”
The motorboat was heading out to deep water, to the waiting cargo ship they were using as their home base while they worked. The zombies were coming in from the east, so Jack started running west, fast as he could. Tyson followed, hoping the rest would keep up. They could see the west fence in minutes. It was a no go, there were zombies lined up along it. They turned inland, heading for the south fence. As they ran, the numbers were increasing. Somehow they had gotten surrounded. There shouldn’t have been that many zombies here. Initial recon said Sydney was down to a few hundred at most, they were looking at thousands.
Brandon went down, his leg was caught in one of the many holes in the street. Tyson stopped and started pulling him “Come on man, pull, come on.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t leave me. Don’t let them take me.”
His leg was caught, wedged in tight. Tyson pulled, Brandon screamed in pain. His leg didn’t come free. Finally, the zombies were too close. Tyson said “Sorry, sorry. Fuck. Sorry.” and started running again. He heard Brandon scream as the horde closed on him.
The rest of the group was out of sight. Tyson had no idea where they had gone. He could see the south fence ow. It was as full as the west had been.
He was cornered. This should have been impossible. The boat was there, the fence was there, they should have been fine.
He spotted a hole that looked like it might lead to something, so he jumped into it. No time to look before he leaped. He fell into the darkness, hitting hard ground that knocked the wind out of him. No time to pause, no time to take stock. He stood up, his head wasn’t touching the top of his hole, and he started feeling his way along. He could see a little bit from the fading light filtering through the hole.
The smell down here was overwhelming. Mold and rot were the worst of it, but there were undercurrents, chemical and acrid with a hint of something even worse. Tyson was under a collapsed building, but there was nothing to tell him what kind of building it had been to start. He moved deeper, hoping to find a safe spot before the light failed completely.
Of course he had a basic kit, a few minimal supplies in case everything went wrong, but it wasn’t much. He was already feeling thirsty after just a few minutes of running.
He spotted a door that was still in a frame, it wasn’t locked, so he went inside, cautiously. There was a zombie inside. Impossible to tell what it had been in life, although from the height, Tyson thought it was probably male. He pulled out his blade and casually smashed through its skull.
Tyson closed the door behind him and then pulled out his light. He hadn’t wanted to spark it before, the bright bulb would have attracted any zombies in the area. In here, a small closed space, he was probably safe to use it.
In the harsh artificial glow he could see that he was in a furnace room. It was large, but much of the ceiling had fallen in. It was also cold, despite the heat outside. At that moment the cool felt amazing. Tyson found a small corner and set up a mini camp to wait out the night.
The reclaimers are formed
Bennett Matheson was bored. Naomi was giving her usual speech to rally the troops. She was a great speaker, and had a way of connecting with everyone she talked to, but this was the tenth time Bennett had heard this one and no matter how good she still looked, how her flawless dark brown skin still loo
ked like she was the woman he had met eighteen years ago, it was the same material. He knew he should be more invested, that his wife’s career was tied to his, but he just wanted to get out there and do stuff. They had been stuck in paperwork for two years, and it was time to make a move.
“It’s time to take back the world, to make it ours again. For far too long we have hidden away on our tiny island, let the dead rule and made do with less than we need. We need to bring the fight to them, to carve out pieces of the world for ourselves. It’s not enough to eke out a living in tiny pieces. This was our world, it will be again!”
Everyone cheered, everyone clapped. Bennett grabbed her as she walked down.
“Great work, really inspired the troops.”
“Yep, everyone loved it… well, almost everyone. I noticed one guy in the back looking like he was starting to nod off.” she punched him playfully in the shoulder.
“Sorry babe, it’s just that I’ve heard it once or twice already. Trust me, I was riveted the first six or seven times.” He gave her a wink.
They headed to the council meeting. They had allies, people who were sick of living on a tiny little island in the North Atlantic, people who wanted to stop rationing everything all the time, but they also had enemies. Their plans were pretty ambitious, and it would shake things up if they went ahead.
The rest of the council was there, with one major exception, glaring in his absence. Jasper Pellerine, head of civil defense. He would have been the best possible asset, but he was still in his hospital bed, not expected to recover. Anyone else would have been put down already, and if Jasper knew the efforts being used to keep him alive, the effort put into him, he would have been furious. Still, he was probably the only person in New Hope that would warrant that kind of effort. The stroke had been sudden, unexpected. He was in his late fifties, young for that kind of death, but old for these times. Most people in this new world died much more violently, and much younger.
Taylor Pellerine was sitting in his place. Nobody begrudged it to her, in the years since the founding of New Hope she had been one of the greatest assets, a tireless worker and fearless. She led salvage operations for a decade before losing her leg, forcing her to work a desk job.
The biggest opposition was Col. Barbara Miller. A living legend, she had made it on foot from Pittsburgh to New Hope almost nineteen years ago, just months after the city was founded. Her tactics had been a large part of the salvation of the city, but now she was conservative, wanting to keep all the resources they could on hand. This woman, who had walked through a million zombies to reach them, and now she didn’t want to open a window for fear of catching cold.
Rounding out the council were John Miller, Barbara’s husband, and Tom Elliott. Tom could go either way, while John was clearly in Barbara’s corner.
Naomi called the meeting to order.
“Welcome friends, let’s get started.” Formality had taken a backseat in the new world.
“Our first order of business is the reclamation force project. We have the gear, we have the first group trained. It’s time to get on with it, time to start.”
Barbara gave Naomi a hostile look “We agreed to let you pilot this idiocy because Jason backed you. Even then, it was planned as a limited scope trial. Without his expertise I don’t see how you expect this to succeed. We don’t have the manpower to risk so many lives. Maybe in a generation or two, but it’s too soon.”
Bennett said “No. Look, we are low on resources, in a generation or two we won’t have the will, the people, the resources, to do this. We need to start expanding now. We have a generation who have grown up with this as normal, who don’t even remember a world without the living dead. By the time our generation dies off there will be nobody around who remembers the old world. Already we have children who don’t believe in airplanes, they think they are just a story old people tell about the world before, an exaggeration. If humanity is going to take back the world it has to be directed by people who remember.”
“No offense to anyone, but our problems are a bit more immediate than that. We are at half a million people here. Rationing is killing us. We need to expand, there is no other option. If you think we have enough you haven’t spent enough time on the east shore. People are out of options. This island is great at growing potatoes, but it’s just not that big. We need to expand.” Taylor slammed her hands down on the table, clearly frustrated.
There was a knock on the council chamber door, sharp and insistent. “Come, but whatever it is, it better be important.” Barbara was clearly irritated, but that was her usual state.
A soldier came in, looking nervous. “It’s the Sydney expedition. We just got word from the ship. All the people on shore were lost.”
“What? How?” Bennett said.
“A breach in the fence. Details are light.”
“Did they see it?”
“No, the team was cut off, the boat pilot took off.”
“So, the team could still be alive, hiding in the middle of Sydney with no way to get back home?”
Everyone went silent for a moment. It was the worst-case scenario for a salvage operation.
Bennett was the one to break the silence “We have the first reclamation team ready. Barbara, you wanted a limited scope trial. This is a perfect opportunity. We can send them, see if they can figure out what happened, and clear a section. A proof of concept as it were.”
“That’s crass even for you. Using a tragedy like this for political gain.”
“I’m not. I’m trying to save our people. This is just the best way to achieve that end.”
They devolved into argument until finally, Taylor demanded a vote. “Look, we aren’t going to settle this. I would love to have consensus, but that ain’t going to happen with this group. Let’s just vote on it now and be done with it.”
In the end, Tom sided with Bennett, Naomi, and Taylor. They needed a simple majority for an operation this size, so it was a go.
Introducing the reclaimers
The barracks were buzzing with activity. There was a clear division between the long established civil defense team and the newly minted reclamation force. The civil defense team was made up of a random smattering of young people, service was mandatory for two years after turning 18. By contrast the reclamation force was all volunteer, hardened survivors for the most part. They were a small team, only a dozen people so far, but they looked dangerous and competent.
Wayde Conrad, the sergeant for the group, was a 10-year veteran of the civil defense force. When his two years were up he just stayed. He was almost as wide at the shoulders as he was tall. He had a short, wide Mohawk running down the center of his head, and a face that was full of scars. Wayde had dozens of expeditions to the mainland under his belt.
Chad was terrified but trying not to show it. He had just finished his stint in the civil defense force when the chance at the reclamation force came up. He volunteered one night after a major bender - Terry had just left him, and now he was regretting his choice. The civil defense force rarely left the island, and when they did it was short jaunts. The reclamation force was supposed to go out there for months, even years at a time. Sure, the pay was good, but it was hard to spend ration credits if you got eaten while on mission. He was pretty sure he’d just volunteered in a vain attempt to win Terry back.
They were suiting up, getting ready to head out. Chad put on his armour. Most of it was what he was used to, but there was a lightweight chain shirt on top of it all. Chad didn’t know what the chain was made of, but it was reportedly lighter and stronger than anything else they had and would stand up to almost anything a zombie could throw at it. The problem was the shirts apparently cost a damned fortune to make. Still, for this force they were throwing out all the stops. On his lower body he had hardened boots that went above his knees and chain pants over padding tucked down into them. All in all, he had almost no flesh showing. The helmets even had a full-face shield. The whole thing was dark grey, mott
led so it didn’t stand out too immediately. They had machetes strapped to their waist, handguns on the other side, and rifles slung over their shoulders - but the main weapon was a high-end compound bow. Noise was the enemy out there. Each of them carried 48 arrows.
The rest of their pack was stuff that had been developed just for them. A tent made of the same chain as their over armour, but with an incredibly sturdy frame that could anchor into virtually any surface - the demo they had been show had involved pitching the tent hanging from the side of an overpass. Chad really hoped he never needed that feature. A grappling gun and winch system capable of lifting 800 pounds. A broad spread solar panel to give them limited electricity. Long range comms gear, still limited by line of sight though, there was a repeater set on the ship and they had repeaters in their gear as well, 5 each. Getting out of comms range was something all of them dreaded.
At 20 Chad was a child of the post zombie world. He actually had the distinction of having been born the day the dead came to life. Zombies had always been a fact of life for him. He wasn’t born in New Hope either, his parents had made the trek from Maine with him in tow when he was only days old. It had taken them four years, and his mother didn’t make it. He didn’t remember her, and his father hadn’t been able to hold onto any pictures. Sometimes he imagined what she might look like, especially in moments of fear or stress - like the one he was in at that moment.
They were supposed to head out shortly after first light, taking a ship to Sydney. Bennett Matheson, the overall commander, came in. His gear was just a tiny bit shinier than the rest. He was a tall, fit man. Dark black hair and pale skin with piercing blue eyes that made you feel like he was seeing inside your soul, finding all of your secrets. Bennett intimidated most people. “Alright men, what we are doing here is new. We aren’t just going to be stripping the land, we are going to try and reclaim it. In the process, we should get any of our people who are still alive back, but the end result should be a place that we can take back, that we can build on. This mission today could result in you having a place to live, to raise children, to grow crops. We aren’t just fighting for our missing people, we are fighting for our future as a species. That is all. Get locked and loaded and head out.”
Resource Economies Page 1
