0.0.0.0 Would Our Legacy Survive?

by Richard Graupner

  I paused, wondering how many more people, good people, out there had had to kill to survive. I thought again of my father and wondered whether he had been forced to do so. I shivered as a chill ran through me, and it seemed that I was no longer in doubt over this. Whatever he had done to ensure our survival, he had kept to himself and endured the burden on his own it seemed.

  Becoming aware of Angela moving closer, placing a light blanket over my shoulders and hugging me to her, I continued.

  ‘These two families moved into a set of well-hidden caves in the wilder portion of their properties after that clash, and being farmers, they had managed to stay out of harm’s way and survive off the land. My father was looking for precisely these sorts of people – those who had the sense to stay away from the cities and were able to survive and keep their moral fibre reasonably intact.

  ‘My father had been away for nearly fifteen days that time, and although I was nervous, my mother was solid. As far as she was concerned, she would know if something happened to my father. For some months now, my father was concerned that a growing group of renegades was sending more regular scouting parties out of the city area, and they had come close more than once. He felt we were no longer safe and needed to move further into the bush, bush that looked like it could not support anything and would therefore seem of little value to the renegades who, he noticed, were mostly looking for easy pickings rather than working to survive.

  ‘He had spent three days with this farmer group, making sure before deciding to bring us across to them. He felt we had to move quickly, and within the day, he had collected what he felt were the most important items. This included one of the trommels with a specific collection of books, having spent a number of hours sorting through the books and repacking the trommels, prioritising them, and including a number of good-quality magnifying glasses. We were too busy for me to ask, but I later found out the magnifying glasses made a fire a lot easier to start than rubbing two sticks together.

  ‘I was wondering how we were supposed to carry all this when I heard the sound of a car. Apparently my father had kept the SUV in running order and had originally stashed extra fuel with the car. Now I understood how he had managed to get the house to burn down so easily and quickly. A small amount of fuel would have worked as an excellent starter for the fire.’

  ‘“We are all going in this first load,” he had said. “Harry, one of the elder sons, and I will come back later for as many trips as possible, moving as much as we can.” I was not happy about this but had learnt to accept my father’s wisdom in these matters. After loading the vehicle internally as much as we could, we tied the now-tired old mattresses to the roof. My father explained that we were going to ride hard and fast, and that we could not have things on the roof that may come loose. All the heavy items were to be inside the vehicle. Waiting for dark was nerve racking. The Hole had actually become a symbol of safety for these past four-odd years, and venturing out there into the unknown was strangely disturbing.’

  ‘My father had explained that we would leave in the dark and get well away from the house before moonrise. We rode a fair distance in the dark, feeling our way across the farmland tracks initially until the moon rose, lighting the landscape with its waning reflection. Travelling some seventy kilometres along roads that were already in serious disrepair, we arrived at a junction, turning off what was once a provincial road and then travelling a few kilometres down a secondary road before turning into a barely discernible turnoff. The last eight kilometres were an old overgrown farm track. I still don’t know how my father found the way along the provincial road, let alone how he found the turnoff and farm track. We spent some time after turning off the hardtop road scuffing the tracks in the sand of the verge with clumps of grass and bending the grass in the track back up, making it as difficult as possible to see we had been there.’

  ‘When we arrived at the caves, we were greeted by a group of very warm-hearted people who wasted no time removing everything from the car. My father hugged us and said simply, “See you tomorrow.” Harry, a strong, capable man of about thirty, greeted his father who was about the same age as Dad, climbed into the car, and the two disappeared down the tracks. Using the dark of night and the extra fuel my father had stashed, they made a trip every night for the next two weeks, sleeping during the day at the Hole.’

  ‘Considering the risk, it was remarkable their activity was only noticed on the last trip they had planned. It was impossible, after all the trips, to hide the fact of vehicle activity on the farm tracks leading to the Hole. According to Harry, my father had woken about an hour before dark, that sixth sense of his kicking in. Waking Harry, the two had exited the Hole to find a group of renegades approaching down the road. From their gesticulations, it had been obvious they had seen the tracks and were following them towards the Hole. My father and Harry crept through the trees to the old shed where the SUV was hidden, already loaded with the remaining useful items. Not a full load, but still worthwhile.’

  ‘Removing the camouflage quietly from the vehicle they climbed in and made ready to leave. My father waited until the renegades were close such as to give them as little time as possible to react. The shed in which the SUV was hidden was a wooden frame with corrugated sheeting, so rather than wasting time exiting out and around the building, my father simply started the vehicle, flattened the pedal, and drove out through the flimsy back of the building and across the garden, taking the shortest possible route onto the track. The resulting noise and scattering of pieces of timber and sheeting worked well, scattering most of the group in fright. Only a few of them reacted in time to lash out at the vehicle as it went past and accelerated quickly down the old overgrown track. Unfortunately, two of the group had weapons, one a handgun, the other a rifle. The handgun was fired off quickly, grazing my father’s neck slightly, but Harry was hit in the upper shoulder. The chap with the rifle though was reasonably skilful with what had appeared to be a bolt-action rifle. A number of rounds hit the vehicle before it disappeared into the trees. My father mentioned later that he felt the chap was trying to hit a tyre. Thankfully, he had failed to do so.’

  ‘Harry was lucky, with no bones broken, and he knew how to look after the wound. Dad had said afterwards that the lad was a toughie as he simply began working on the wound, stemming the blood flow as Dad raced to exit the area. The gunfire would have alerted groups over a wide range, and it was not yet dark. After about ten minutes, my father noticed the fuel gauge was dropping too fast. The fuel tank had obviously been hit, and if the group had followed down the road, they would have reached the point of the hit by now and noticed the leaked fuel. They would be in hot pursuit and would travel fast, having looked fairly fit despite being very lean. They therefore had no option but to keep going until the vehicle finally stopped, hoping it would be dark or at least close to dark by then. The vehicle managed about another ten minutes before it quit. They were now at least ten kilometres ahead of their pursuers, enough to allow them to disappear into the encroaching darkness before the pursuers could catch up with them. Saving their energy, they walked rather than ran, and managed to disappear into the rapidly darkening night without observing anyone following, thankful now for the faint light from the waxing crescent moon, knowing it was insufficient to track by and would be fully dark in a few hours as the moon set.

  ‘When they did not arrive back at the caves on schedule that evening, I was heart-broken, fearing the worst. Mom put on her brave face and said quite categorically that she had not felt anything amiss. They were late due simply to some mishap or other and would be along when they could. After five days, I sensed the strain was beginning to tell, regardless of my mom’s strong resolve. It was eight days later that they arrived at the caves, exhausted and hungry. Harry’s shoulder was not bad, considering the travelling, as Dad had taken the medical bag with him each time he travelled. I did overhear Harry’s dad asking about the fact that t
hey had not one round left in the shotguns they had been carrying. They had apparently been ambushed by a small group on the second day, and as they seemed reluctant to talk about it, I never asked.’

  As I paused, Angela spoke gently, ‘Let’s take a break, and I will collect us some lunch.’

  She came back minutes later with a selection of apples and oranges, freshly picked. We ate in silence and I picked up the story again.

  ‘We stayed in those caves for about five years, with the three sons of the two farmers doing the majority of the scouting. Their roaming brought in new people, as well as a number of domesticated animals. It was not long before the close proximity of young people to each other led to liaisons being formed. Depending on their remaining beliefs simple marriage ceremonies were undertaken, increasing the already strong bonds between the groups. Without all the previous extraneous activities to waste our time the new-borns and young children received loving, close attention by all. I could only marvel at how caring people had become, as opposed to the selfish approach we had taken before the Fall.’

  ‘Although I had been concentrating on the lessons with Mom and Dad and felt their need to ensure that sufficient knowledge was retained and passed on by us and others, I came close to a family of my own once. A mother and lad of about twenty eight joined us after someone in our group found them, wandering in the bush after being attacked. They had been nine strong, including this lad’s father. The two of them had been the only ones to survive and were starving and dehydrated when we found them.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ asked Angela gently. I had not realised I had stopped talking, and had been staring at the wall unseeing. Taking a deep breath I continued.

  ‘This lad Kevin and I connected right off but we had only a few weeks together before he succumbed to blood poisoning from a broken thigh bone. He had been with a small group out hunting and had been surprised by a rogue male elephant which had been standing quietly, dosing in the bush, when they disturbed it unknowingly. In their rush to avoid the charge Kevin had run into a boulder strewn area, knowing the elephant would not follow into such an area. He had slipped and fallen, breaking his leg as he landed awkwardly across a jagged rock.’

  ‘When the group got back with him he was pale and drawn, in excruciating pain despite the splint applied. It broke my heart to see him waste away over the next three days as the marrow that had leaked into his bloodstream killed him.’ I was quiet for some time as I recalled the pain I had endured for weeks spent recovering from that loss. My parents had been supportive, but firm in their approach that I needed to move on for the sake of myself and the others. Looking at Angela finally, patiently waiting for me to continue, I pulled myself out of the memories I had last visited so long ago.

  ‘Below us, in the valley, we were able to keep the larger animals fairly well, creating a wall of cut thorn bushes across the relatively narrow entrance. It did not go all our way as a pair of young male lions found the herds. With such easy pickings, they soon found their way through the thorn bush wall. We had a problem now, as although we had a good rifle and two shotguns, we would risk exposure firing these off so close to our area of living. After two days debating our options, and having lost a second cow, the answer in the end was surprisingly simple. A summer thunderstorm was building menacingly overhead, changing the sky to that strange purple-black colour that can only mean heavy rain in this area. It was Harry who realised the potential.’

  ‘Setting out with the rifles and shotguns, Harry and a few of the men went in search of the lions. Having gorged themselves, they would not be far from the carcass. Harry’s father spotted them first, having been a hunter since being a young boy, and assisted Harry in getting into position. Now they waited for a suitably strong crash of thunder. It was nerve-racking for Harry, having to keep the lion in his site for so long. The second lion jumped up at the sound of the shot and the fact that his partner had twitched violently as the bullet hit. Fortunately, he was unaware of what a gunshot was or meant, having obviously matured without man around hunting for him and others. He stood, unsure, looking around nervously but thankfully staying where he was. Harry was able to drop him cleanly in the next crash of thunder. It was obvious from them being present here that the old national parks no longer restrained the movements of animals, and we would have to be more aware when travelling.’

  ‘We spent another four years there after the lion episode, and it was becoming obvious that the area could no longer sustain so many people. We were growing slowly but steadily in number, and we had a good system going already with some people growing vegetables, others herding, some cooking, collecting water, and so on. But we needed to move. Water was becoming our biggest problem. What we needed was difficult to find and it took months of scouting at some distance to find a suitable place. That place was the village that Jim is currently in. It suited us then and looked after us for almost ten years before we needed to move some of the people due to strained resources. Those had been tough years, and we lost quite a number of people to renegade attacks over the years before we managed to finish the village walls. Livestock too was lost. The growth of the community was impaired, both physically and spiritually, at the losses endured.’

  ‘It was tough to keep spirits up, and it was only with the help of people like Jim, Yvonne, Sam, Thelma, Jenna, and many others now passed on that we managed. You see, you have to obtain a certain level of inertia in everything for it to become self-sustaining. What we have today is built on the backs of many people no longer with us, people who gave their all to get us where we are, including my parents. The people nearly all understood my father’s reasoning when he explained the need to conserve knowledge, to ensure its growth and prevent mankind falling again into a dark abyss from which it takes millennia to recover. He was unshaking in his belief that in the past catastrophes, the learned people had simply fallen prey to such as the renegades, and the knowledge was lost, mankind falling into the morphic field of survival of the fittest and no longer caring for any other. Although I understand it now, and I see the positive results and benefits, at the time I remember instances when I hated a particular arrangement my father made with the community.’

  I paused here, remembering the heated debates my father and I had over this. I must have been still for a while thinking over this, as Angela moved, asking if I was alright. I found I had tears rolling down my cheeks, and she gently wiped them for me.

  ‘My father and the others of the community agreed that the knowledge had to be preserved. My mother and another elderly lady, Sarah, were given the task of educating me and a number of others further, using the books and their own knowledge. Dad would step in now and then, imparting his own versions and opinions, and especially on how mankind had been manipulated and abused, making it clear what we were not meant to carry forward but sadly needed to know so we could avoid those traps.’

  I paused again, hearing Angela’s statement. ‘But why was that a problem? Was it not a good thing, as we see now?’

  ‘Yes, yes it was. The problem was that we, this select group for lack of another description, were protected at the expense of others, some of whom died protecting us, finding food for us, and so on. It was an awful period for all of us, especially as no one in the community questioned it at all. We were protected from many of the harsher sides of life that others had to endure.’ My mind could not help but wander back to those years, flitting through memories I had fought so hard to bury, which I thought I had managed to bury but which surfaced now in a rush accompanied closely by a flood of emotion, a release I was not expecting.

  Chapter 27

  It seems I had cried myself to sleep as I awoke with the sun kissing the horizon, bathing everything in that peachy-pink glow of sunset that only seemed possible in Africa. Angela was lying next to me, simply holding me underneath the blanket she must have covered us with. Noticing I was awake, she slipped away to get dinn
er, a lovely vegetable stew mixed with yellow sweet corn. Jenna was a darling. We ate in silence, each occupied by our own thoughts.

  ‘You don’t need to continue,’ Angela said gently. I considered this and then answered her.

  ‘But I do, for the sake of those that went before, and for my own sake.’ I gathered myself, and rearranged my now aching body into a more comfortable position.

  My father had been correct when he had said we need to honour the courage of older people as ‘getting old is not for sissies’. I smiled in the looming darkness as I remembered his cheeky grin when saying so. The last time was just before his passing. By then, at the age of seventy-seven, he was missing a few teeth, but his grin had been as infectious as ever.

  ‘We have been in this village for almost twenty five years now,’ I continued. ‘One of the scouting groups found this spot about four years after we moved into the initial village. Although it was better than the original spot, Dad and the other elders agreed that too much work had been done on the initial site to simply pick up and move. We needed to grow first, to better understand what was needed and how to do it efficiently and quickly, before we could split our resources. It would take a further tough nine years before we could risk splitting and moving. Initially only a group of strong men with a small number of women to assist with cooking and planting were sent here. Under the guidance of my father and Harry’s father, they began building the initial wall, what is now the inner wall of the village. It was tough on my and Harry’s fathers not to be able to participate physically anymore, but at seventy-four and seventy-two respectively, they simply no longer could.’