by DB Daglish
Strangely - it was only Ricki who seemed unconcerned.
Chapter 3
Checking the weather would be reasonable enough overnight, they anchored out from the harbor rather than stay moored at that place - so much was the uneasiness many were feeling. At first light they set sail south and by mid-afternoon passed a beach before the city harbor entrance where they could see a few people swimming. Others were back from the beach and suddenly a flare went up. Cautiously they dropped anchor and Ryan and Chris rowed a dingy toward the beach. They were directed to a small sheltered beach to their left, where they were met by six people. Three of them held weapons; but that was perfectly understandable and with about twenty meters to go they were told to stop.
“Are you friend or foe?” one yelled.
“Seriously?” Ryan yelled back. “If we were a foe would we advertise that fact?”
He could see them nod among themselves at the clear logic of Ben’s words.
“Look, we are from New Zealand…a least what is left of it. We came back to explore!”
“Came back? There’s been no one from there since the plane fifteen years ago. Were you one of them?” the tall one asked.
“No he wasn’t!” said Chris as he stood up. “But I was Toby. I had hair and was unshaven, but look, I’m the opposite now. How is…Carrie…is that her name?”
“Chris!” he said excitedly. “Put the weapons away boys, these are our friends,” and he motioned them to the shore where they all shook hands.
“Did you arrive just now from the open ocean? John thought he saw you coming from up north three hours ago.” Toby asked.
“Well, we got a little lost coming over here, ended up near Lord Howe, found the Nina and then arrived at Newcastle. We stayed…” but he was interrupted.
“The Nina? You mean the old missing yacht from years before everyone died off?”
“Yeah. Bizarre aye! Anyway we were at Newcastle. It felt creepy there, so we hightailed it out of there.”
“Newcastle?” one of the others asked. His eyebrows revealed some surprise. “We went there once ourselves but no one was alive. We’ve never been back.”
“Well…?” Ryan asked, seeking a name.
“Kelly, but they call me Ned here!”
“Well ‘Ned’… oh now I get it,” and he laughed. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Well, we felt uncomfortable when we saw no dogs and no cats. You’d think they’d be everywhere with so many rats alive.”
“That’s what we noticed too Ryan. There was a…what’s the word? - foreboding feel about the place. We just jumped back in the vehicles and came back. No one has been there since.”
“But why would there be no cats? It seems weird. They are everywhere else I’m sure?”
“Yep,” Toby agreed. “There are plenty of them around here. Heaps more in the city itself now the rodents are free to roam. Why they are not in that place is a mystery. Anyway you’re safe here now. So Chris…” he said turning to the one he knew. “Get the yachts to come around back. Actually, I’ll come back out with you and guide you around if you’re ok with that?”
He turned to Ryan. “Can you go with these guys Ryan? They’ll take you to the apartments just two blocks back. That is one of our setups for the older ones. The other one is a multi-storied complex opposite the old ferry terminal. That’s where you can dock the boats. There’s room for you all to stay…about twenty I gather?”
“Twenty three in total, some are couples, one is over sixty and we have five under twenty on their own yacht.”
“Really? Wow, that’s awesome. We don’t do much open ocean sailing, but we do plenty around the harbor for something to do. We did sail down to Melbourne years ago, but we’ll talk about that later.”
Toby climbed aboard the dingy with Chris and rowed back to the moored yachts. As the three with weapons departed; one up the hill to his post and the other two back along the beach, Ryan was guided by John and Stevie back a block or two. Here he was shown what they called the ‘elder’ apartments, a place where the older ones could be in peace. But the main two storied block in front was where all meetings and daily main meals were held. One street down was a quiet and private little beach, sheltered from the south where they could relax and bathe themselves. Ryan was particularly impressed with the way they kept the ‘elder’ area clear of most overgrowth. The lawns were mown by old type push mowers and the garden well maintained, but he could imagine what the place would have looked like in its fully manicured state. Once that tour was over, they cycled to the ferry block down near the wharf on the harbor side of the peninsula. Mountain bikes were their main form of transport and two of their number were responsible for maintenance and repair or all cycles. Opposite the wharf they were shown around the multi-level accommodation block where most of the younger ones lived.
Here, fifty or so under thirty year olds lived. They were in charge of the gardens planted at the old cricket ground, which was all fenced off, and the farm at the old golf course a few blocks away.
Ten rooms were set aside for the visitors at Ryan’s direction. He politely asked for separate accommodation for Don and three of the couples elsewhere. For he was not sure this block was necessarily a quiet place to be, although it seemed tidy and ordered.
As they wandered over to the wharf area to wait for the expedition boats to arrive, they began to ask questions.
“So John, you and Stevie have been together for a while?” Ryan asked.
“I was fifteen when the death hit. Stevie arrived in Sydney three years later and we have been together ever since.” John replied.
“And where were you based when all this happened, Stevie?”
“Oh, I was a fair way inland about seven hundred kilometers at a place called Bourke. I was the only one of two left alive and I was terrified…” she said.
Stevie was your typical blonde haired carefree girl. Even at thirty eight she was stunning, although the conditions everyone lived under meant personal hygiene wasn’t a top priority. This was the same for everybody so no one person stood out.
“Being left alive with just a twenty eight year old male was a little frightening. I feared men after being abused in my home. But Alex was a gentleman and he restored my faith in men, even defending me from another who came to town from further out the district. He wasn’t trying to rape me or anything but he made it clear what he wanted, so Alex sorted him out for me. No rough stuff, just a reality check of our circumstances. Luke apologized to me after that and became my big brother really…”
She paused and wiped a tear from her eye. Ryan discovered something tragic had occurred, politely waiting for her to continue. She did not and John finished for her.
“The group grew to five and they stayed together learning to survive until a small group of men arrived two years later - and one tried it on with Stevie. Luke intervened and the bastards killed him. Alex shot two, had the others put their weapons down and then shot them all. He said he couldn’t trust the rest with their attitude and if they can’t handle the change in the world they may as well depart it rather than create havoc for others. It was an undeniably tragic affair. Stevie never got over Luke - no man had ever stood up for her in the way he did!”
“I know how you feel. We had a crisis of our own about the same time and a gun battle followed. In the end we set the survivors adrift in the ocean and then holed the boat,” Ryan explained.
“Like an execution?”
“Sort of - the weird part was, there as one who survived! He was the tag along and not the violent type. He just got caught up in it that’s all. In fact…he’s on one of those boats,” he pointed as he could now see the sails appear around the headland about two kilometers away.
“A sort of redemption?”
“Of sorts. He was so glad to be alive he offered to serve us for…oh, I can’t remember how many years now. Eventually he just became one of us, has his own wife and has some children back home too!”
“So with what
Alex did, what happened to him?” Ryan inquired some more, always fascinated by various aspects of the human experience. Stevie was now able to continue.
“Alex felt guilty afterward. He held it in for two and a half years. One day he said he couldn’t hold his head up anymore and he just left. Now there were only four of us. We were doing well until then, but with him gone we drifted down to Dubbo, that’s about halfway to Sydney,” she paused and shook her head. “It seemed there had been recent activity but we couldn’t find anyone. There was one place that looked like they had stayed at and the table had six chairs so we figured there was at least six. They had everything set up, food rainwater, generators, gas…just no one around as if they left in a hurry. It was spooky at first but we decided to stay.”
‘What do you mean spooky?” Ryan asked. “Like the Newcastle type of spooky?”
“You‘ve been there?” asked John.
“Yeah, we were there before we arrived here. Abandoned and no evidence of any human survivors…or large animals.”
“It’s a bad place. We never go there and don’t allow anyone else to either!” Stevie confirmed.
“But why? What actually happened there?” Ryan inquired further.
“Just don’t bring it up. It’s sort of taboo here!” John insisted.
“But why?”
“It just is. Leave it at that ok?”
“Alright I will. But you were at Dubbo?”
There was a little tension in the air; Stevie defused it perfectly by laughing.
“Ha ha, yeah. We stayed six months. Carl and Zoe even had a baby while we were there. It was awesome welcoming a new life after all the death we had experienced. We called her Hope.”
“Like our yacht!”
“No, like expectation!” she said with a puzzled look.
At that Ryan laughed.
“No. I mean we named one of our yachts Hope for the same reason.”
“Oh,” she said looking a little embarrassed. “So why did you come?”
“We have a very well run community. We have prepared for the days ahead when the clothing runs out; for all our young ones wear woven garments. We have done all those over the age of forty could do in our lifetime, so we thought we’d take an opportunity to see how others are surviving and to see what we can learn, or what we can teach.”
“Wow,” John exclaimed. “That is some risky trip just to be curious. What if you all got lost in a storm?”
“Well, sometimes you have to take risks aye! We could just as easily die at home as on the sea...So…from Dubbo to here?” Ryan asked further.
“Yes. That is where I met John and we’ve been together all these years with no swaps!”
“Swaps?”
“I’ve kept him for me!”
“I hope so. We pair for life back home!”
“All of you?” asked John.
“Yes. Isn’t that normal?” Ryan asked; a little puzzled.
“Maybe at Cronulla!”
“What’s at Cronulla?”
“Another group. Smaller than us and a little more conservative for our liking,” John said. Stevie didn’t seem so sure by the look on her face.
“You are not convinced Stevie?” Ryan probed further.
“They are all cool. Just less…loose, I guess you would say. There’s not been much contact in recent years. In fact I’m not sure if they are even still there. We haven’t seen anyone in the last two years and they used to call by occasionally because like you, they used to sail everywhere…” and she stopped.
“They seem freer than you guys then!” Ryan teased. “But yeah, we used to explore in the early days too. But with the roads now overgrown and slips blocking roads, it was too hard to move. But we still sail to holiday locations once a year. Usually in two groups so the livestock are always cared for.”
As he finished, John excused himself to go round up more people for the greeting as the yachts were now about ten minutes away from reaching the dock. Stevie remained leaning on the railings.
“So you seem to have a different opinion to John on those at Cronulla. What’s that about?”
“Oh, they are ok. I quite admire their rules and stability,” she said.
“What’s wrong with here? How different is it?”
“Fairly loose. The block behind is like some sort of sex house sometimes. I understand the need to repopulate but there seems to be less and less respect for stable relationships. I think the cracks are beginning to show?” Stevie lamented.
“No moral ground rules are in place, are there?”
“Not really.”
“Well, if they…” but he was cut off by Stevie.
“Ryan…I don’t want to talk about it right now. Perhaps another time. I’m not in the mood right now and besides; we have some celebrations to have with some guests. Let’s keep the mood high shall we?”
At that moment three more people arrived.
“Hello,” a bright young girl said in greeting. “I’m Caroline, this is Doug and Simon. And you are?”
“I…Ryan…I’m…Ryan. Oh, I’m sorry. My wife was called Caroline. I watched her die, so hearing your name brought back some…emotional memories.”
“Oh, I’m sorry Ryan. Was that by the great death?”
“No. It was some time after that. She fell off a horse ten years ago!”
“A horse? Do you use them for transport?”
“Quite a lot actually. We’ve made special horse-carts as well for transporting produce from our farms six kilometers away. We have vehicles that still work but fuel is rotten and it’s too time consuming to make ethanol while we are trying to survive. We learn and teach a way of life without the need for mechanical things. By the time the next generation arrive, current stores of necessities will need to be made by ourselves. It’s scary to think of the future going backwards, but regress it must.”
Quickly he gathered himself.
“Sorry Doug…and Simon was it?”
“Yeah,” a tall lanky man in his early twenties offered his hand. “Me and Doug…”
“Doug and I,” corrected Caroline. “Strooth - you never get it right do you?”
“And you never stop nagging me about it!” he shot back with a wide smile. Looking at Ryan he explained they got on fine… “Just lots of good-natured ribbing,” he was assured.
“I hope so. I’ve seen the results of the real stuff!”
Finally the one called John arrived back leading about thirty or so people to see the new visitors arrive. For these Sydney survivors, no visits from outsiders had occurred since the arrival of the plane Chris flew here many years before. That was after he flew north from Melbourne not long after the great death occurred. There was an excited clamor as the four yachts drew nearer. No one new had arrived in many years. But not only were these people new, they were from another country, and so long after the great death had stopped all international travel.
It was if a touring band of rock-stars had arrived. People were whistling and cheering. They created so much noise that those doing work in the gardens and other buildings, previously unaware of the flotilla’s presence, now made their way to the ferry terminal to see what was going on.
By the time the Hope had thrown its line to those ashore to be tied up, there were some sixty people of all ages gathered. Tia and her crew were flabbergasted at the crowd; and the reception. Politely she waited on deck until the Zingari had berthed, and Chris and Toby stepped ashore. They in turn waited until the two remaining crews joined them before being guided off the east pier and up to the multistory complex on the road behind. By now people were hanging off the balconies, watching what was going on. Apart from the overgrowth and obvious wear and tear to buildings, the place looked like a ‘hippified’ beach town.
First up, they were shown through the complex. At the rear, two levels above the street, raised bed gardens were planted out, as was the old swimming pool – after all they couldn’t maintain it and the sea was the best place to sw
im.
They were shown their rooms and then taken to the ‘elder’ apartments and the houses behind the main buildings. Everyone was impressed with the way they had tried to keep the originality of the buildings intact. Here they were fed and much discussion occurred between various people as individual and group friendships began to form. It was an unknown gentleman who stood up and clanged a bell to gain attention.
“Who’s that?” whispered Fin to one of his new friends.
“Our leader!” came the reply.
“Thank you all. I would like formally to welcome our new friends from overseas. It seems strange to say that. No one has arrived here since Chris a number of years ago when Harley was our leader.”
Chris nodded in acknowledgment.
“My name is Marcus and it’s great to have some Kiwis over here.”
“I haven’t heard that term used for twenty seven years…but I hate that term!” Nick said aloud.
“Why is that?” asked Marcus.
“Calling someone from New Zealand a ‘kiwi’ always annoyed me. A kiwi is a flightless bird that lives on the ground and in the dark.”
Marcus smiled. “So a bit like now?”
Nick paused to think and laughed. “Yes, I guess we are like that now. My apologies. Please continue.”
“You are all most welcome here. I understand this is just a visit, and that you will be leaving us again at some point. But everything we have is yours. I have put the word out that you are all to be treated like kings…”
“And queens!” shouted Tia.
“Ha ha,” he chuckled. “Yes, young lady - like queens as well! Now, tonight be will be enjoying a feast at the surf pavilion. The younger ones can be responsible for it. And there will be a huge bonfire as well if it can be organized in time.” At that he stood down and disappeared out the back.