Resource Economies

by Traverse Davies

  Meat Cove was a picturesque town in its day, and elements of that history were still visible. Most of the local economy had come from tourism, people attracted to the town at the edge of the world. Now, the brightly painted houses were dingy, most of the paint years in their past, shingles missing and broken. The newer buildings in town, the ones put together by Clyde and the family were rough, tar paper shacks for the most part, uninsulated and built without foundations. The worst of them had fallen down, and the rest were propped up with years of tinkering, to the point where most of them were bizarre monstrosities. Who knew, back in the early days, that building a wooden box was so much work. All of them had sloped roofs now, but that had taken some learning. In the beginning they hadn't figured out how important the slope was, so a lot of roofs collapsed under snow.

  The place was still breathtaking though, giant cliffs hundreds of feet about a raging North Atlantic, with nothing in sight except ocean, for as far as you could see. The cliffs looked like the end of the world, like there was nothing else ever. Once upon a time, at least as far as Clyde knew, the cliffs had been used by the native population as a hunting method, they used to drive herds of animals over the cliffs, then gathered up the animals by carefully winding their way down a gentler path off to one side. It was a tactic that Clyde hadn't managed to replicate, until recently there were no large herds of wild animals. With most of humanity begin gone though, the herds were starting to come back, meaning maybe the family would have access to lots of meat in the near future.

  They had lost both fish drying racks, a major blow to the community. Fish was their main source of protein; the sea was giving up far more bounty in recent years than it had for a long time. Another benefit to the reduction of humanity. The cod still hadn't come back, but everything else was at record numbers. Clyde looked forward to the day when eating humans wasn't something they needed to do. A few lean winters had convinced him of the necessity though. It just took a few of your children dying of starvation before you couldn't justify letting a stranger thrive when you and yours didn't have enough. Besides, he had the words of God telling him that he was in the right, that the godly, the good, had more right to that flesh than the sinners who carried it around on their black and decayed souls.

  They headed out into the forest, trying to find any trace of the prisoner, a footprint, a drop of blood, anything. The problem was that the man had fled during the height of the storm. Trees had fallen, a huge amount of rain had fallen, all trace of tracks that weren't deep and permanent were likely to be washed away. They spread out, all of them scouring the ground, but nothing. Clyde started narrowing the search, looking in places that were high and dry, hoping that the prisoner had hidden somewhere he would be easy to discover. The man was hurt, badly. His time in the oven would have weakened him, sapped his strength and ability. Clyde was betting on his having taken the easiest paths, even if he didn't mean to.

  After many hours of beating the woods the search had to be limited. There was a huge amount of storm damage that needed to be repaired, and the manpower was need there more than here. Clyde kept a few men out, told them not to come back until they had something. He knew that his own experience was too important to the cleanup and repair efforts to stay out. One thing he could do though was leave Junie in charge. His eldest son and heir apparent was a bulldog, the kind of man who took a task in his teeth and worked until it was done. Smarter than the rest of his followers too, able to make decisions just like he would. That was the only thing that gave him peace, that let him relax about the family and what would happen to it after he was gone.

  That was going to be sooner than the rest thought too. He had noticed the first symptoms recently. Just a couple of muscle twitches, but enough that he knew what was happening. Soon he would be a wendigo, no longer a flesh and blood man, but a spirit of rage and destruction. It happened to people here, out in this remote place. Always had from what he'd been able to find out.

  The camp grows.

  Naomi was coming to Sydney. Bennett was overjoyed, a visit from his wife was amazing news. The shopping mall rescue was still top of his mind of course, but other than that things had really come together. There was still the matter of the missing salvage party, and one team of four still out there out of communication. Overall for an operation this size that wasn't a failure though.

  The operation was about to kick off. Bennett discovered he had been holding his breath, waiting. He had a high vantage point, looking down at the operation through binoculars. His men were close, ready to start making noise, ready to draw off the zombie horde around the building. Finally, his clock ticked to the minute in question, and then the men stood up and started firing rifles into the horde. Normally firearms were used as a last resort, but this time the goal was to attract attention. A half dozen zombies dropped, then the horde turned, en mass. Even knowing the measures in place, it was terrifying, thousands of undead corpses staring hungrily at a dozen soldiers, a literal wave of appetite crashing towards a few brave souls. The men turned and ran. All of them except one managed to overcome the fear and run at a slow jog. One of the group, Bennett couldn't tell who from where he was, took off in a full sprint, clearly, he had lost it. Bennett hoped that he managed to pull it together before he collapsed.

  There weren't enough zombies following. There were still several hundred trying to climb the shopping center walls, apparently something in their primitive brains remembering the prey up above. "Wayde, check the numbers"

  "Right, too damn many sticking around. Any ideas how to fix it oh glorious leader?"

  "Grenades maybe? It's a big one off, not a repetitive pattern. Should draw them."

  "If we drop it in the front ranks could thin them a bit too, worth a shot at least. I'll call it down"

  Wayde radioed the men on the ground "Drop some ‘nades into the front rank. We need more following you."

  The men below complied, three of them pulling pins and throwing small oblong objects. Grenades weren't all that effective against zombies, they tended to keep going, just with a few more holes in them, however all the man had been issued them, mostly for situations like this. It wasn't part of the standard kit - most of the grenades left in stores were pre-first night relics, more than twenty years old. Sometimes the stability wasn't what they would have liked. Three explosions hit in sequence, dropping a handful of zombies, most of whom either got back up or kept crawling forward.

  Many, many more of the zombies from the lot turned and followed. It was down to about a hundred around the building. If they could get the horde far enough they could deal with that number, it was just a matter of time. Guns would be out, but they all had lots and lots of arrows. The compound bows they carried were better than a crossbow in well trained hands, even if not as effective as a rifle.

  The men were keeping ahead of the zombies, although the one sprinter had slowed too much. He needed to get moving again, the group had almost caught up. Bennett nudged Wayde again.

  "Yeah, I see him. Jones, get your ass in gear. I don't give a shit how tired you are, shouldn't have taken off like a fucking rabbit. Now either you get your ass in gear or your ass is dinner."

  That did it. The guy was moving again. It was working, they were getting enough of them! All they had to do was hold them until the lake. Once they hit it, the boats would take them out of range, and to safety far faster than the zombies could catch. Part of Bennett wished he could be down there, felt like a coward for sitting on the high ground and watching. He knew it was irrational, that he could contribute nothing to the run. He was older than these men, and not as fit. His real value lay in his experience and being able to pass the benefits of that experience to these younger, fitter models. Didn't mean it didn't feel like cowardice to be sitting half a mile from the action watching in his binoculars though.

  Wayde nudged him this time, pointing him slightly to the west of the group. Fuck. It was another small group of zombies, closing in from the side. How had they missed
them in the scout? It was only a couple dozen, but enough that they might slow his men while the zombies behind caught up. Had to be dealt with, and fast.

  At least this was something he could do. He took his long-range rifle and sighted one of the zombies in the second group, one near the back. A single shot dropped it. Other shots rang out, from all over the landscape. No one place had enough shots to bring the horde, and with the way the shots echoed across the landscape they couldn't even pinpoint what direction to move in. It was an old and well-established technique, but it did mean that they each only got one or two shots. The small group was down to half a dozen zombies, a manageable number. Jones hit them first, swinging his machete. Clearly, he hadn't recovered from his run, his swing was wild, totally off target. Against a human it would have been fine, but he just bit into the zombie’s arm, a bit above the elbow. It was such a bad angle it didn't even sever the arm, rotten though was, just stuck in the bone. Bennett had a feeling Jones wasn't going to be with the force for long, some people just weren't cut out for the field. The soldier managed this one though. He slammed the zombie in the chest with his shoulder. It clamped teeth down around him as it fell, but the armor did its job. Jones would survive a little longer. That machete was gone though.

  The rest of the squad fought through the zombies, dropping them quickly, not dispatched, but down was as good as dispatched for the purpose of this mission. By the time they stood the squad was well clear. Bennett managed to breathe again. Only another half click to the lake, and then they were clear. The zombies were out of sight of the mall, the team was weaving between buildings, making sure there were as many obstacles between the zombies and the parking lot as possible, to make sure they couldn't see as the remainder of the force picked off the remainders of the horde.

  There was no single position that would allow Bennett line of sight for the whole mission, and no time to move before the team was supposed to be on the water. He had picked the viewpoint that gave him clear line of sight for the longest period of time but was now regretting his choice. What if they stumbled? What if there was another group? Anything could happen, and he had to rely on other eyes to let him know about it...

  Finally, the signal came, the group had made it to the zodiacs, they were on their way. Apparently, it was all of them, even Jones. Time to mop up the rest and bring his men back to base.

  Bennett still longed to be down with the men. It was still dangerous, still a hard slog. The men waded in, a triple line. The first rank closed, loosed arrows, took out a vast number of zombies. Second rank did the same, then third. That gave the men time to draw a new arrow and fire. Not quite the slow line by line of musket fire in the old days, but a similar concept. Wave after wave of zombies fell, by the time the last few reached the human forces there were only a few dozen remaining, the men drew machetes and went to work, pushing the zombies back and slamming the short, heavy blades into their skulls. All told it took about fifteen minutes to clear the lot. Several of the men grabbed ladders and placed them against the building. The troops from the roof climbed down, tired, thirsty, grateful.

  It had been a clean op. One of the cleanest of Bennett's career. Simple and direct, politics left miles behind. As much as he wanted to see Naomi, practically craved her presence, he dreaded the politics that would come with her. Still, better than leaving her home to deal with them without him. Their last radio conversation had hinted at some sort of trouble with the council, something with Barbara probably - wasn't it always? How in the hell had she become such a thorn in their side? This woman was one of the saviors of their civilization. She practically taught them how to combat zombies.

  Naomi travels to Sydney

  Naomi took to the sea quickly, she hadn't been on a boat until she was in her twenties, but it was as natural as breathing to her. Sure, much of her childhood had been spent in the water, spending as much time in the community pool as she possible could, and not just so she could show off in her bikini. There was something about the water she found calming, natural. Maybe in a different life she would have been a sailor. The small fishing boat sped across the sun dappled waves, bow breaking in choppy surf. The wind was light, and welcome in the late summer heat. The captain walked up to her "Mam, you should get ready. We're almost there, just another fifteen minutes or so."

  "My stuff is all packed up, and it's way too nice to spend any more time than I have to below decks. I don't get to get out on the ocean much these days. Back when Jasper and I first founded New Hope I spent most of my time sailing around, checking the coastline for other survivors. Jasper always wanted me to stay in the city. I couldn't do it. That's how I found Bennett you know?"

  "I didn't know that. Figured you for more of a landlubber type."

  "Yeah, I didn't get to discover the sea until everything changed. My childhood was spent as far from the yachting life as is possible. It was after... sorry, I tend to go on. I'll let you get back to your post."

  "Thanks mam. It's interesting, and I would love to hear about it some other time, but we're coming into some trickier waters right now, I probably should focus on that."

  She knew he was being polite - indulging a woman who was lost in memory, old, in spirit at least, before her time. She turned her focus to the view out the front of the boat. They were going as fast as the old boat could manage, speeding past tree lined shores, green and verdant. Finally, the harbor came into view, a narrow path between ruins, overgrown with vines, trees breaking their way into the landscape, pushing concrete out of the way.

  The harbor was long, extending deep into the land mass, wharves dotted the sides from time to time, all collapsed or on the edge of it. Near the end, once the harbor was narrow enough to swim across, she spotted the repaired wharf the reclaimers were using. It was obvious they had been working hard. Barrier walls surrounded the wharf, leading right into the water, giant sheets of steel that sloped outward, keeping the zombies at bay. Most of the material used in them was local, built on the spot from what they could strip out of the ruins. The wharf itself was new material, right down to the support pylons. Built next to the remnants of the most intact wharf from the old city, still on the edge of collapse.

  The area around the wharf had been expanded, a few hundred meters across now, and it was a beehive of activity. Workers carried building materials, putting together more panels, stacking salvage for the dock, some of them seemed to be putting together the framing for a building, something smallish, maybe the size of a small house. Since the original team of one hundred and twenty soldiers had come over there had been a steady stream of support personnel, more every day it seemed. Right now, the town was at six hundred give or take. Mostly men, mostly rougher types, construction workers. Most of the food was still being delivered by boat, pulling from New Hope. There were plans in place to extend the corridor to an empty field, start doing some farming there. Naomi hadn't seen it yet, she confidence in Bennett's decisions about that sort of thing. If you couldn't trust your own husband who could you trust?

  They docked, the captain was very good. There was a small bump, barely noticeable, and then lines were being thrown to the crew on the docks. Bennett was standing on the dock, waiting for her, looking dashing in his all black combat armour, helmet tucked under one arm. She did love that man, sometimes she forgot exactly how much. He'd been her constant companion for more than a decade. He'd even accepted her closeness with Jasper, something very few men would have been secure enough to do. Somehow, he could see that they were both tighter than a romantic relationship could ever make them, and not in any way heading towards a romance.

  She ran to him, forgetting dignity, forgetting that she was a leader, just wanting to hold her partner, the person who grounded her, who made all the struggle worth it. They held each other, wrapped in each other’s arms, holding as tight as they could. She pulled her head back slightly, looked him in the eyes, and then started kissing him, like a sixteen-year-old, no shame at all.

  After a few min
utes they finally parted. "Well, good to see you too!"

  "I missed you. Damn I missed you."

  "So, what's the good word from our government? Do I get what I need for this mission?"

  "Yeah, anything apparently. Barbara went all in. I'm still trying to figure out how that can fuck us."

  "Yeah, that's terrifying."

  "Well, at least it gives us what we need to manage here. I think it might just be public sentiment... there are a lot of people right now looking at this project as a way to get out of New Hope, and to maybe find some real hope, some chance at a reasonable future. New Hope just doesn't have any reasonable way to expand at this point. People want a frontier, some way to have a better life than they have right now. That was what New Hope was all about when we founded it, when we renamed it. Now though, it's a trap for most of them. No way to leave, no real way to improve their situation. Maybe she just figured out that if she fought it even her reputation wouldn't save her from the repercussions."

  "Politics. I'm not convinced though. That woman seems like the sweetest lady on the planet, and she's a hero to most... too bad they can't see that she's a snake."

  "More like a shark, a predator that just keeps going because it doesn't know any other way to exist. Enough about her though, how are things here?"

  "Troubling. We have confirmation that the original fence was cut, and there's been a number of sightings of people, but always far off. No contact with them at all, at least from most of the teams. One team is missing though, no contact from them since they hit the field. It's been weeks now."