‘No,’ Damian whimpered.
Greg sobbed even louder.
‘Well, do you want to be spared or not?’ Diana snapped. Greg continued to cry, shaking his head.
‘I’ll do it,’ Jasper volunteered.
‘Very well,’ Diana said.
‘Same terms?’
Diana nodded. ‘Life imprisonment with hard labour.’
‘No!’ Damian said again, looking up at his brother.
‘You deserve to die,’ Jasper sneered. ‘You brought this on yourself, and you brought it on Greg and me.’
‘Untie Jasper’s hands and feet,’ Diana said to Duncan.
‘What, and hand him the axe? He’ll kill us!’
‘He won’t,’ Diana said confidently. Duncan continued to hesitate. ‘Either execute Damian yourself, or untie Jasper,’ she ordered. Duncan propped the axe against the block, untied Jasper and scampered off the cart, followed by Cheryl. Diana alone confidently stood her ground.
With Cheryl’s fork released from his shoulders Damian began to scramble on his knees across the cart and away from the block, his progress hampered as he discovered he was covered in his own excrement. Jasper picked up the axe, dragged Damian back over to the block and put his foot on the small of his brother’s back, pinning him in position. Then he lifted the axe high above his head. The members of the community held their breath, waiting for the blow.
‘Put the axe down,’ Diana said suddenly. Jasper paused. ‘Put it down,’ she said again.
‘He deserves to die,’ Jasper said, still holding the axe aloft.
‘He does,’ she agreed. ‘But fortunately for him, we need his sperm. And fortunately for you,’ she continued, turning towards Greg, ‘we need your sperm too. For that reason — and for that reason alone — I’m commuting all three sentences to life imprisonment with hard labour.’
Slowly Jasper lowered the axe and propped it up against the side of the cart.
Diana glowered down at Duncan, who had removed his balaclava. ‘Tie Jasper up again, then return the three of them to their cells. The Cabinet members are to report to the ballroom immediately after breakfast. Everyone else is to go to work as usual.’ Once again there was no mistaking the fact that her tone was dictatorial.
Diana left the cart and walked towards the entrance to the staterooms. Duncan and Paul’s failure to carry out the sentence had further diminished their reputation in the eyes of the community. Her own bravery — the fact that she had stood within striking range of the axe-wielding Jasper, a man everyone had lived in fear of for so long, had calmly ordered him to put the axe down and had been obeyed — had left her the undisputed leader of the community.
24
‘Damian, at least, should have been executed,’ Paul said firmly, ‘given what he did to my son.’
The Cabinet had assembled in the ballroom, as directed by Diana. Again, she sat at the top of the table on the large gilt chair, with Theresa on her right and Susan on her left. Paul and Duncan had their previous places at the other end of the table.
‘I have sympathy with your views,’ Diana said. ‘Damian and his brothers must be punished. But we can’t afford to execute them. We need their manpower, and we need their genes. We need to increase our population as quickly as possible.’
‘No woman will be prepared to have sex with those monsters now they are not being forced to,’ Duncan said.
‘I didn’t say anyone was going to have sex with them, I said we needed their genes.’
‘How are you going to do that?’ Paul asked.
‘You can leave that to Theresa and me. I want the rest of you to concentrate your efforts on finding ways to use the brothers’ labour.’
‘Tell me,’ Duncan said, leaning forward and staring hard into Diana’s eyes, ‘did you ever intend to execute them?’
Diana shook her head. ‘One thing Mark was right about was the need to increase our population. Anyway, it was just as well it wasn’t my intention. As I suspected, neither of you two had the balls to carry out my instructions.’
Duncan’s face showed how furious he was. ‘If you thought that, why did we go through the charade at all?’
A flicker of a smile passed across Diana’s face. She didn’t reply.
‘We’re going to have to be careful what tasks we allocate to the Chatfields,’ Susan said, bringing the discussion back on track. ‘If they get half a chance, they’ll murder anyone they get their hands on.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Diana. ‘So I need the Cabinet to think of tasks that will tax the brothers’ strength and spirit, but which don’t pose a risk to the rest of the community — preferably tasks where they can be tethered while they work.’
‘What about the treadmill?’ Paul suggested. ‘That’ll keep one of them busy for a couple of hours a day.’
‘They should be forced to operate the treadmill twenty-four hours a day like they made us,’ Duncan grumbled.
‘Perhaps we could use the power being generated by that dynamo for something useful?’ Theresa said.
Diana’s sharp mind seized on the suggestion. ‘Paul, do you think it would be possible to rig some form of electrical lighting system for our living quarters?’
‘Of course, but it would take quite a bit of power. I had a long chat with Steven about the systems he’d rigged up at Gulf Harbour in New Zealand. By charging up a bank of batteries using wind turbines and solar power and incorporating inverters, he’d produced enough power to run just about any electrical appliance he wanted.’
‘Could we generate enough power using man-powered dynamos alone?’
‘Of course, provided you used modern treadmills and had enough men.’
‘That’s the answer then,’ Diana said. ‘I want you to build an electrical system for us using dynamos powered by the Chatfield brothers.’
‘Brilliant,’ said Duncan.
‘Make the system as efficient as possible,’ Diana continued. ‘Electrical power is one of the keys to our future. The more power we can produce, the more the community will be able to accomplish.’
‘Relying on manpower alone would mean powering the dynamos twenty-four hours a day,’ Paul said cautiously.
Diana nodded her head. ‘Exactly.’
‘But surely it would be more logical to use all the power sources we can muster?’ Paul persisted.
‘Design the system to utilise Chatfield labour initially, but with the flexibility to incorporate other power sources. That way I can move the brothers off power generation if we think of any tasks requiring even harder work. I sentenced them to hard labour, and that’s precisely what they’re going to get. They can work in shifts around the clock — two of them working at all times.’
‘In other words, they will each be working sixteen hours a day and sleeping for eight?’
Duncan approved. ‘Sixteen hours a day hard labour. I like it.’
Diana turned to Paul. ‘In view of your new task, you can have another week to modify your strategic plan. I want you to include a detailed summary of the equipment you’ll need to build the power system, where you think we’ll be able to locate what you need, the number of people you’ll need to help with the construction, and an estimate of how long it will take you to build it.’ The words came in short, sharp bursts as her agile brain tackled the problem. ‘I also want you to locate three balls and chains.’
‘Where am I going to get them?’
‘Use your common sense!’ Diana said sharply.
‘Try the museum,’ Susan suggested gently.
Satisfied that she had given Paul enough guidance, Diana turned her attention to Duncan. ‘Since Paul needs more time to modify his plan, we’ll concentrate on your report today.’
‘I haven’t done a report,’ Duncan said.
‘What do you mean you haven’t done one?’
‘I haven’t had time.’
‘Of course you’ve had time.’ Diana stood up and leaned forward, hands pressed on the tabletop. ‘Your incompet
ence is putting this community at risk. I won’t have it. If you don’t do as you’re told, I’ll disband the Cabinet and run this place myself.
‘This meeting is now adjourned. We will reconvene at ten tomorrow morning. Have your plan ready.’
‘But that’s not enough time!’ Duncan protested.
‘You’ve got all night. You were happy enough for the Chatfield brothers to work sixteen hours a day. You can do the same.’
Diana stormed out of the room, followed by Susan and Theresa. Paul and Duncan were left sitting at the table staring at one another.
‘Who does she think she is?’ Duncan said angrily.
‘She thinks she’s the Leader.’
‘She’s as bad as Nigel.’
‘Her manner might be as bad.’
‘It is as bad.’
‘But at least she’s going to improve things. Two-forty volt electricity will open up a whole new world. We’re moving forward.’
Duncan was irked by Paul’s enthusiasm. ‘Can I have a look at your report — crib a few ideas?’
‘I hadn’t done a report either,’ Paul confessed sheepishly.
‘Looks like we’re both going to be working all night then,’ Duncan said as he levered himself out of his seat and stormed off.
25
The next day, the crew of Archangel and the Gulf Harbour children relocated to three adjacent houses on the ridge of Marina Hill. Mark and Zoë occupied the large centre house. The children were quarantined in the inland house, and the remainder of Archangel’s crew bunked down in the seaward house.
Mark was paranoid that the children would forget they were in quarantine and disrupt his experiment. He salvaged a reel of plastic tape printed with the words ‘DANGER — DO NOT ENTER’ from a nearby building site and strung it on stakes around the perimeter of the children’s house. He also draped a strip of tape along the boundary fence between his house and the crew house, to reinforce to the adults that there would be no physical contact with him and Zoë, until it was their turn to be absorbed into the base group. As he intended to remain house-bound with Zoë, he designated himself cook for the whole community, announcing all meals would be left for collection at the edge of each property.
After they had been at Gulf Harbour for nearly a week, Steven, Penny and Lee lifted Archangel ’s anchor and sailed out into the Hauraki Gulf in search of Raconteur. Despite his father’s conviction, Steven felt there was little chance of finding either Jane, or his cousins Sarah and Katie. The trip into the gulf gave him the opportunity to spend time alone with Penny and Lee, however, for which he was grateful. It was their first experience of being a proper family.
At Haver, Steven and Penny’s liaison had been clandestine. They could have asked Nigel for permission to live together, but Nigel’s loathing of Steven meant it was unlikely he would have sanctioned the union. Even had he been prepared to allow the match, Nigel would have insisted on ‘deflowering’ Penny — one of his rights as ‘Lord of the Manor’. The edict was as unacceptable as it was nonsensical to both Penny and Steven. There was no deflowering to be done — Penny had been married before the pandemic and had given birth to Lee. It was simply another facet of Nigel’s tyranny.
Their life together since their escape from Haver had been spent in the cramped quarters of Archangel, living cheek by jowl with their relatives. But now at last they were alone.
Steven unfurled the foresail and pointed Archangel’s bow towards Rakino Island. The fact that Christopher’s body had not been buried suggested to Steven that Sarah and Katie had almost certainly not returned to Gulf Harbour since the tsunami. He was hoping to find Raconteur washed up on a beach on one of the gulf islands, with Sarah and Katie living close by.
Once the boat was sailing nicely, he handed the helm to Penny and scanned the southern beaches of the Whangaparaoa Peninsula with his binoculars. There had been many vessels washed up on the shoreline before he and his father had sailed to England two years earlier — vessels which the inhabitants of Auckland had used to flee the anarchy that followed the super-SARS pandemic. But escaping into the gulf had provided only temporary respite. Those people who weren’t already sick soon showed signs of the disease. At first bodies were weighted down and dropped over the side. Later, corpses were simply tossed overboard to float ashore and be picked clean by seagulls, rats and marauding dogs. The last people to die lay rotting in their bunks, waiting for a storm to wreck or sink their vessel.
Steven was hopeful that he would be able to spot Raconteur if she had survived the tsunami. She was a distinctive vessel — a one-off motor-sailer designed and built by John Lidgard, a well-known Auckland boat builder and designer.
They sailed first to Tiritiri Matangi, the rocky island off the end of the Whangaparaoa Peninsula. It had only two small beaches and was not a popular anchorage. A quick reconnoitre confirmed there were no wrecks, so Steven continued on towards Rakino.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Penny said as she helmed the vessel into Woody Bay on the island’s western side. Steven put his arm around her shoulders.
‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘Last time I visited this bay it was full of anchored yachts.’ He shivered at the memory, however; each of those boats had been full of corpses, victims of the pandemic.
There was not a single boat at anchor in the bay now, and only a small amount of wreckage high on the beach. Three vessels had been lifted onto the low clifftop at the eastern end of the bay, their precarious position indicating just how high the tidal wave had reached.
‘We’ll sail around the island, then go across to Waiheke,’ Steven said, backing the foresail and helping to bring Archangel about.
Their circumnavigation of Rakino discovered a few vessels on the beach in Maori Bay, but they were mostly small craft and none resembled Raconteur.
As they sailed between Rakino and Motutapu Island, Steven pointed ahead. ‘That’s what Katie and Sarah were following,’ he explained to Penny and Lee. Hundreds of gannets were swirling high in the sky, manoeuvring like squadrons of fighter planes, the impression reinforced as they folded their wings and dive-bombed into the sea below. The water was alive with kahawai chasing sprats, the surface appearing to boil with the frenzy of their feeding. Graceful terns joined in the bonanza, hovering above the waves before dipping down to snatch the scraps.
‘It’s amazing,’ Steven said, surveying the scene. ‘I’ve never seen such large schools of fish as this. And I’ve never seen so much birdlife either. It just goes to show how much over-fishing occurred before the pandemic struck.’
‘Dolphins!’ yelled Lee from the pulpit.
‘I’ll take the helm,’ Steven volunteered. ‘Go and join him.’ Penny scrambled forward to be with her son. They were both enraptured as the pod played in Archangel’s bow wave, weaving their way under the hull, blowing as they surfaced and sometimes jumping out of the water.
Despite the recent losses and setbacks, Steven felt as if he couldn’t be happier. Cries of delight from the pulpit filled the air, the breeze tugged at his hair and the sea sparkled. The Maori name for the harbour — Waitemata — meant sparkling water, and how true that was today. After everything they had been through to get there, it was great to be home.
As they neared Waiheke Island the dolphins headed off in search of new adventures and Penny and Lee returned to the cockpit.
‘Well, what do you think of the Hauraki Gulf?’ Steven asked Penny.
‘It’s beautiful. But…’
‘But what?’ He was alarmed by the tone of her voice. Penny sighed. ‘I just wish my mother and sister and everyone else at Haver were here to enjoy it with us. Or that I could at least phone them and tell them all about it — or even write to them.’
‘You’re not homesick, surely?’ Steven said as they reached Hakaimango Point and started to head in towards Oneroa Beach.
Penny burst into tears.
‘Come here,’ he said softly. He pulled her close but looked ahead towards the long stretch of golden sa
nd at the head of the bay. Suddenly his heart raced. ‘I can see her! I can see Raconteur.’
26
All thoughts of England were forgotten in the excitement and dread of the moment. Steven could see Raconteur had come to rest high above the beach, jammed up against a bach on the hillside. The distinctive arch at the rear of the cockpit, though badly damaged, caught the light and made her unmistakable. There was very little other wreckage on the beach.
Steven anchored Archangel close to the beach and Penny and Lee helped him launch the dinghy. Together, they rowed ashore and hurried up the beach towards Raconteur.
She was a sorry sight. Wedged between the deck supports of the old bach, she had lost her mast, her keel had been snapped off, the stanchions were bent and the arch was badly damaged. It was clear from the vessel’s condition that no one was living aboard her, though there were footprints in the dry sand above the high-tide mark. Looking closely, Steven saw that while the imprint of one foot was distinct, the other was scuffed, as though the leg had been dragged.
‘Look!’ Penny said, pointing towards a heap of earth on the lawn a few metres from the yacht’s stern. The fact there was a grave there was not unusual — in the wake of the pandemic, graves were dug wherever they were needed. But this grave looked fresh, and the spade that had been used to dig it lay nearby.
‘It has to have been dug within the last two or three weeks. Someone has survived,’ Steven confirmed, examining the grave, repressing his grief at now knowing that one of his cousins was dead. He looked up towards the houses lining the crest of the hillside, cupped his hands around his mouth and called ‘Hello’ at the top of his voice. Lee and Penny joined in. After thirty seconds’ yelling they stood and listened, but their cries were answered only by the squawking of seagulls as they picked their way along the high-tide mark.
‘Shall I row back to Archangel and fire a shot?’ Penny suggested.
Steven nodded. ‘Just one. We’re running short of ammo.’ He wondered if whoever had survived had any ammunition left to reply, or had it been used up on marauding dogs or hunting for food? The farm animals may have all been eaten during the pandemic — on an island, food stocks would have been exhausted pretty quickly — but you could shoot seabirds if you had bullets. Fish and plants would also provide sustenance, so perhaps that’s what the survivor was doing now, scouting the island for vegetables and fruit. The tsunami would have ruined any gardens in the immediate area — anything that hadn’t been uprooted had wilted from being drowned by salt water. They would have to go up the ridges for any hope of fresh produce.
Blood Bond Page 18