Bennett didn't sleep that night. He was driven for the next few days, working harder than he ever had before in his life. He was organizing things, working to make the place perfect. Every time he had a chance he would pitch in physically, hauling boxes, lifting, carrying. He worked until he was exhausted, then he worked some more. He collapsed every night, having worked his body until it couldn't move anymore. He ignored Naomi. She said to him, "Killing yourself isn't going to work, it isn't going to help anything."
"I'm not trying to kill myself."
"Really? Could have fooled me."
"Everything is fine, there's a lot of work to do and I need to make sure that all of it gets done."
"Bullshit. I can't make you behave like a reasonable person, but I'm not going to stand around watching you destroy yourself either. I'm going back to New Hope on the next boat. You come find me as soon as you realize what you are doing to yourself."
The problem was he knew that she was right, but he didn't care. He couldn't look at her without seeing the little boy, without knowing that she was the one that gave the order that ended that little boy's life.
The work progressed, the camp grew, improved. They had most of the waterfront now, and they were building from there. Each boat brought more people, more workers. They were pulling resources from the corpse of Sydney, but even more important, they were taking parts of the city, turning them into places where citizens of New Hope could live, expanding to accommodate their limited space and rapidly growing population.
One day there was a commotion at the gate. He hurried over to see what it was. There was a group of three people, a woman and two men, ragged and filthy, walking up to the gate.
Finale
The walls came into view. They were exhausted. The last few hours had taken away most of the gains of the slower journey. Despite having evaded pursuit, they were still on foot, travelling with almost no equipment, desperate and cold most of the time. Hunger had left them hollow.
The base camp was larger, so much larger than when Chad left. It had grown from a tiny outpost to a walled city, hundreds of people milled around in the central square, all running from activity to activity, filled with purpose. Hard to believe it was only a few short months since he had walked out of there with his team. Tyson followed him closely, bloody, battered, barely walking, but alive. Tamra took up the rear, heavy rifle at the ready. The gate guard got a look at them as they approached, covered in filth, and sounded a call. Chad dropped to his knees in front of the gate, spent. He had nothing left to give, no more reserves. A group came rushing toward him "Who are you, what are you doing here?"
"Chad Lee, reclamation forces. I have Tamra Duchene and Tyson... shit, I don't know his last name"
"Sylliboy."
"Right. Sylliboy. He's the last member of the salvage group. It's been a long, long journey."
"Okay, son. You just relax, you can tell me all about it once you get a bit of rest." Bennett Matheson said, a look of concern on his face.
Chad felt himself getting lifted onto a stretcher. He was carried inside the gate, finally safe.
The End
Traverse Davies was raised by a pack of wild hippies, during the seventies and eighties when such creatures roamed the forests unfettered and free. He discovered a love of books at an early age, and that love has only grown over the years. After years of working in IT he decided to branch out in the activities he did while hunched in front of a glowing screen tapping at a keyboard and added writing to his task list.
His skills outside of programming and writing include Taekwondo, Wilderness Survival (sort of), Ninjutsu, Parkour, Drawing, Photography, and crappy Photoshop work. He has lived in various countries, although he currently resides on the east coast of Canada. He is obsessed with post apocalyptic survival and subverting as many genre's as possible.
Come find more of his work at dreamtime.logic11.com or on amazon
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