Deluge | Book 3 | Survivors

by Partner, Kevin

  “Do you know what happened to Marlin?” he asked.

  She sat up slowly, her face a mass of pink and red, as she wiped the hair from around her eyes. “No. He’d be fifteen now. I remember his birthday every year: November tenth. I hope he’s found a family who deserves him.”

  “And then Michael found you?”

  She nodded. “He was working for a contractor upgrading the prison’s IT. I’d kept my nose clean and was given cleaning duties, so I met him. His MS wasn’t so bad then; he could walk and do most things just fine.”

  “You fell in love?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so. I thought I did, at the time. But now I can’t help wondering whether I was just using him. Whether I was only pretending to feel the same way as he did. Fooling myself as much as him.

  “He visited me—after the contract was over—and when I had a relapse—maybe I missed him—he somehow got in to see me. He gave me hope beyond jail. Told me he’d look after me. And so he did. He was there when I was released, and he took me home and looked after me. Took me a long time to truly trust him, but he never pushed me. He deserved so much better from me.

  “We were happy for a time. Got married, had Josh, but things soured. I’m broken, Bobby. You got to know that. I’m damaged.”

  Bobby sighed. She’d spoken for long enough that his emotions had settled. What did she think he would say now? Disgust at the thought she’d sold her body to pay for her drug habit? Perhaps that would have been the right reaction. If he’d had no feelings for her, then he surely would have felt that way. He’d been brought up by parents who had pretty straight up and down views of morality. But then, they’d never been in Eve’s situation.

  He gazed into her tear-drowned eyes and kissed her.

  Chapter 6

  Pi

  Buzz watched as Anna scribbled the arithmetic questions on the whiteboard-cum-wall. The barn was becoming more and more like a regular schoolroom each day. Artwork drawn on the back of discarded food packaging and computer printouts covered the walls in a cavalcade of color and a teacher’s desk now took pride of place beneath the board.

  But he wasn’t watching Anna, his eyes were entirely on Jo. She moved slowly between the groups of children, each sitting at a table—built by Tom—handing out sheets of precious paper. They had enough pencils for now, but until Tom had finished constructing slates made from polystyrene sheets covered with thick, white plastic taken from food packaging, they would have to use and reuse the paper they had left.

  Jo was still obviously weak, but she smiled at him when she spotted him watching from the doorway, and that smile lit up the room. And there he was, convinced he was the archetypical tin-man scientist—plenty of brains but no heart. Well, apparently not. He didn’t like the vulnerability he felt when he saw her and experienced the emotion swelling in him. Maybe this was why he’d insisted they keep their relationship secret—whatever form it developed into. Jo suggested it was entirely futile, but they were as low key as possible. Which was why Buzz was pretending to observe the last lesson of the day in the hope that he could grab Jo as soon as she left the classroom.

  “Hey, Buzz.”

  It was Tom’s voice, and Buzz had to force himself to hide his annoyance as he turned around. He liked the man well enough, and he was certainly very useful, but he’d hoped to enjoy a few minutes of peace as he spied on his…girlfriend? Is that what she was? Sounded infantile, but, despite that, he quite liked it.

  “Yep.”

  It was a warm day, but whether that meant Tom could reasonably justify being shirtless was another matter. Buzz had to admit that if he had a body of an athlete, he’d probably flaunt it. Sadly, he had the body of a scientist. He couldn’t help noticing, however, that Anna was looking in their direction. He had no rational reason to be displeased with this, but since when were emotions rational? That’s why he’d avoided them as much as possible. Until now.

  “I have finished the beds for the carrots.”

  Buzz couldn’t hide his surprise. “You have? Where did you get the planks from?”

  “There are enough houses up there,” he said gesturing up at the slopes of the valley. “Dom helped. Should keep the carrot fly out.”

  Buzz nodded. “I hope so.” His agricultural knowledge was owed entirely to Nicholson’s Horticulture, a book he’d borrowed from his local library knowing he’d never have to return it. Now that they had several times more people here than he’d planned for, it was essential that they lost as little of the crop as possible to pests. “Well done,” he added, patting Tom on his well-defined arms.

  “We will need help filling them if we are to sow the seeds on schedule.”

  Anna appeared as the children filed out of the classroom and made their way back toward the farmhouse. Buzz felt the familiar tingle up his back that told him Jo was beside her, out of sight.

  “Seems to me the kids could do with a field trip,” Buzz said.

  “Where to?” Anna asked, puzzled.

  Buzz pointed, smiling. “That field over there. Tom and Dom have built the beds, but they need filling with soil. We don’t have enough tools for all of the kids, but they can take it in turns. We’re just taking soil from the field next to it and tipping it in.”

  “Child labor?” Jo said, breezing into view.

  Her smile pierced his academic heart. “Something like that,” he said, not sure whether to continue the lighthearted discussion. “These are new times, and the children need to learn practical skills if we’re to survive.”

  “That’s fine,” Anna said, inching closer to Tom. Or was it the other way around? “But they’re twenty-first century children, and it’ll take them time to adapt to the change. Most of them are still processing the loss of everything they knew.”

  “How are they handling it?”

  Anna shook her head. “Most of them are just blocking it out, I think. Hoping everything will go back to normal.”

  “You’re not lying to them?”

  Her face tightened and he was forced to mutter an apology.

  “No, except by omission. When they ask if they’ll see their parents again, I tell them I don’t know.”

  Jo pushed her hand through Anna’s arm and Buzz felt an involuntary stab of jealousy. “Well, you don’t know for sure.”

  Anna softened a little, but still shook her head. “Is there a difference between 99.9% certain and one hundred percent? Not practically speaking. But, anyway, the last thing we need is them all dealing with their grief at the same time. The smartest ones are figuring it out and Jo and I are dealing with them when they come to us. After all, we’re all struggling with it.”

  Buzz hadn’t really thought about it, but of course Anna had family she’d be grieving for. He’d known it intellectually all along, but hadn’t tried to empathize. It was hard enough coping with his own emotions and viewpoint, without burdening his mind with those of others. Except Jo. He’d find room for her.

  “Shall we go for a walk?” Jo asked. It took him a moment to realize that she was talking to him. “I can’t go far, unless you’ll let me lean on you.”

  “Absolutely!” he said, blurting the word out.

  For one horrible moment, he thought he’d misunderstood and the others were going to come with them, but Jo smiled, and transferred her grip from Anna’s arm to his and said, “Come on then. Let’s go for a circuit. I might not make it the whole way, though. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

  You couldn’t disappoint me, he wanted to say, but in fact he merely smiled. It was an odd thing. By any objective measure, Anna with her olive skin and almond eyes was the more beautiful, but there was something about Jo that captivated Buzz. He didn’t like mysteries, as a rule, and he’d no doubt unravel this one at some point but, for now, he was content to walk slowly, arm in arm along the edge of the field—where the valley floor met the slopes that hemmed it in on three sides.

  Over the past days, the seemingly random areas of gravel had been ra
ked up and piled along the boundary, so the otherwise verdant spring green was punctuated by scars that would soon be plowed over. Beyond this lawn and nearer the farmhouse, rows of fields stood, all bare earth and straight lines. Most had been planted already, but he could see, at their periphery, the planks that Tom and Dom—a good name for a kid’s TV duo, he couldn’t help thinking—had made into a series of raised beds.

  “This is a perfect place,” Jo said.

  “It is at the moment.” If he hadn’t been so content, he’d have marveled at such an unguarded comment.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her cheeks expanding in a hidden smile. She had such a pretty smile. Perhaps that was part of the attraction. Yin and yang. But he was grinning now. He tried desperately to focus on enjoying the here and now, not allowing his mind to go spiraling off into an unknowable future, but he was only partially successful. Every time his gaze flitted over the farmhouse and the metal roofed barns that ran at right angles to it, he found himself wondering if his latest simulation had run its course.

  “Where were you just then?”

  Jo’s voice brought him out of his introspection. “Sorry?”

  “I was talking about the farm and you just drifted away.”

  Guilt coursed through his veins. “I’m so sorry, Jo.”

  She turned to him, her open face and blue eyes regarding him seriously. “I know you’ve got so much to think about, Buzz. But I can’t help thinking you’ll go crazy if you don’t give yourself a little time to wind down now and again.”

  He groaned. “You’re right. I can be such an idiot sometimes. You know what I was obsessing about, just then? How good it was to be in the moment; enjoying a little slice of time without worrying about the future.” This was at least partially true.

  She smiled, raised herself on her toes and, to his astonishment, planted a kiss on his lips. It was warm, wet and tasted of Tic Tacs.

  He pulled her into an embrace and they stood, holding each other tight as her hands ran up and down his back, and his went a little lower.

  When they moved apart and looked at each other, both flushed from passion and, to be truthful, embarrassment, Jo glanced across at the farmhouse. “So much for keeping it quiet.”

  There, pressed against the kitchen window were the faces of laughing children.

  Buzz woke up the next morning, rubbed his eyes and then rolled over to see Jo sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the camp bed looking at him. “Morning, sleepy!” she said.

  He groaned something in reply, then added, “Why’d you get out?”

  “Much though I enjoyed spooning with you, that camp bed’s too small for one, let alone two! We’ll have to find somewhere else for next time.”

  That got his attention. He raised himself on his elbow, took her hand and kissed it.

  “You were the perfect gentleman last night,” she said. “I know you wanted more, but it was too…”

  He kissed her fingers again. “No, it was perfect as it was. We can take our time.”

  Truth was, he’d been relieved when it became clear that, while Jo wanted to share his bed, that was as far as she wanted to go for now. Buzz was self-aware enough to know that he wasn’t exactly an accomplished lover and he was woefully out of practice. But he felt differently about Jo, and he hoped that these newfound emotions would equip him to be the sort of companion—both in and out of bed—that she deserved and he craved.

  She leaned forward and kissed him, and he tasted mint again. “I’m heading downstairs to get the breakfast started.”

  “Do I qualify for breakfast in bed?”

  She smiled. “Now that would be setting a dangerous precedent!” She got to her feet, her weakness still obvious and walked over to the door. He was about to ask her if she needed any help when she turned, still smiling. “But I’m beginning to think I like living dangerously!”

  It was a shower day today, so Buzz headed to the upstairs bathroom for his allotted five minutes. He was just about to go inside when the door flew open and Anna emerged, barely covered by her towel. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m running late.”

  “That’s fine,” Buzz said. Yes, she was a lovely woman. Fresh out of the shower like a boatload of promises.

  He grabbed the door handle and nodded to her. He was only just registering her odd, nervous expression when Tom burst out, gripping an all-too-small towel around his waist.

  “Ay caramba!” he said, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I needed a shower after all that work yesterday, and Anna offered to share.”

  “Did she indeed?”

  Anna’s face flushed. “I offered to share my slot.”

  Tom roared with laughter. “Oh, don’t look so ashamed, Anna. It is the end of the world after all. Might as well have some fun.”

  It seemed to Buzz that Anna didn’t appreciate being simply an object of fun. She spun around and headed for the room she shared with the girls in her charge. It didn’t happen often, but right now Buzz felt he was undeniably occupying the moral high ground as Tom, with a final smirk, slipped past on his way down the stairs.

  He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted more than mere fun with Jo. The bathroom was surprisingly tidy considering what had just been transpiring inside it, and Buzz put all such thoughts to one side before enjoying the sense of cleanliness that only comes when water is rationed. He was finding that, if nothing else, this new world was teaching him to appreciate what he had.

  The sky was lightening behind the valley walls, promising a local sunrise and a warm, clear day, as Buzz made his way out from the farmhouse and toward his laboratory. Since he’d washed away two days’ sweat and pulled on a clean pair of jeans, he’d been anticipating the results of his latest simulation. The Raspberry Pi had been working on the data for two straight days and he was hoping for at least a couple of candidates for further testing.

  It was dark in what had been the infirmary, but he was parsimonious with their electrical consumption, so rather than switch on the battery-powered light, he found his way by memory and feel. He got to the door to his small office and sighed. He simply couldn’t help himself. Now he’d thought about electricity and the batteries, he would have to check on them. He was that kind of obsessive. The sort that feels as though their brain is being eaten from the inside out if they don’t know something.

  He left the door and felt his way along the rough timber wall to another door where this room and the next joined. He pushed it open and light flooded in from windows along the wall looking across the valley. Shelf upon shelf marched off toward the darkness at the far limit of the room, piled with supplies. At the bottom, sacks of rice, grain, flour, nuts and seeds—some for consumption, others for planting. On the next shelf, cans, bottles and jars of prepared foods and raw ingredients. At the top, lighter supplies such as paper towels, huge boxes of cereals and even candies. Joel had, after all, had some input on what they stocked. This meant that, down a short flight of stairs, was a cool basement with dozens of bottles of fine wine. He’d had no cause to celebrate so far, but he hoped to pop the cork on something fizzy before too long.

  A small room off the stockroom housed the control system for the solar panels and the small wind turbine that rose from a position half way up the valley wall, providing a secondary power source if they had a long sequence of dark days during winter. There was also a wood-burning electrical generator, but that was only really suitable for emergencies.

  He scanned the array of readouts. The batteries were all showing close to their capacity, and, as the sun rose above the side of the valley, the input wattage was creeping up. Except for one panel which stolidly refused to register any increase. He gave a brief curse and made a mental note to send Dom to go sweep off whatever was covering the panel. He was lighter than Tom and, in any case, Buzz would be happy not to encounter the Chicano for a few hours at least.

  Other than that one panel, the lithium batteries were performing well given the amount of use
they were getting. The hot water for showering was provided by the wood-burning stove in the kitchen, so the batteries were mainly used for recharging the ATVs, providing juice to the electric fence and powering the various tools and machines they used. And the million other smaller drains that accompanied even this stunted version of modern living.

  One of those being his Raspberry Pi.

  “Hey, Uncle Buzz!”

  He started before he almost ran into Jodi as she waited outside his office.

  “Oh, hi. You can just call me Buzz, you know?”

  She shrugged. “Whatever. Are you checking in on the sim?”

  Part of him resented the intrusion—he’d imagined he would be alone to see the results—but, on the other hand, he wouldn’t mind an audience at what might be a crucial moment in history.

  “Yeah. Come on, let’s see if we’ve got any candidates.”

  He flicked the switch and waited a moment for the LED lights to come on, then moved over to the computer desk where red and green blinking light leaked out of the hole in the cigar case through which the HDMI and power cables ran.

  He turned on the monitor. “Here we go.”

  The green text and the line-drawn shapes beside it grew brighter as the screen warmed up.

  “OMG, that’s mental!”

  It took a couple more seconds for his older eyes to adjust enough to make out what the computer was reporting.

  “Ninety-five percent confidence?” he said, reading the text and then glancing at the shape beside it, all lines and circles.

  “Jackpot, uncle!”

  He scanned down the rest of the candidate list. The next one had a seventy-four percent confidence: thirty seconds ago he’d have thought that was promising, but ninety-five percent? That was close to guaranteed.