But we did. For the storms gradually abated, soon to be replaced with more, and so it went each day, each week. In the brief reprises from the mighty winds and battering rain, I vowed to continue my account.
Arjuna slept inside the windowless building with the last seven cows. I was glad that Buttercup’s great granddaughter survived. Named Daisy, after her favourite flower. She loved to chew upon their soft white petals. Like all the other plants, though, those pretty weeds, all gone. When water engulfed our pastures and swelled up to our knees, when a tidal flood engulfed the Manor, we were forced to leave the Goshala and make our way to relative safety outside. We walked away from our sacred home and into a world tattered and ruined by the last wave of gales. Searching for some kind of shelter for the herd.
After days and nights tramping along flooded, streets, we reached the water-logged town of Cambridge and found a building still intact, the doors unlocked. We herded the cows into the lobby. In our new surroundings, which seemed alien to me after spending many years in a closed environment, I became agitated, scared. I went outside to keep watch in case any survivors tried to break in and hurt the cows and bulls.
Huddled inside the great doorway of what was once a department store, I watched as the rain poured down like the tears of Krishna.
The water did not drain away, instead, it bubbled up from the overloaded sewers spewing forth great globs of waste matter. Oh, the stench was vile. A sweet, sickly, rotten egg smell that caused my empty gut to contract. I spat out bile.
A small, pink object flowed by. I quickly turned my head. Too late. My eyes could not help but see the mutilated corpse of a baby. Another familiar lump floated past. An arm.
Next, half a human skull. Long black hair trailing from it got stuck between two metal parking meters. I gagged as the half-head swished back and forth between the poles.
I drew in my legs as the water level crept closer. I had to get inside to wake Arjuna and move the cattle higher up the building. But I was halted by a familiar voice.
‘Mayer!’
I rubbed my eyes and blinked.
‘Mayer!’
Wetter than the drowned rat that had just drifted past my feet, I saw, Paul Dresser.
‘Mayer. It is you. Thank god!’
Sloshing through the filthy stream of effluence, he and three other scientists waded slowly towards me. I involuntarily backed away.
‘Hey, it’s okay, don’t be afraid. It’s me, us.’ He pulled on a shoulder strap and righted the bulging knapsack hanging heavy on his back, then yanked a large wheeled black case to rest beside his right leg.
I looked over his shoulder and bit my lip at the sight of bruised and battered techs from the Manor. They too carried bags and dragged boxes behind them.
‘Paul, I thought you long gone, or perished. I am sorry not to have checked before. Arjuna, the cows and I left, but the terrible storm and the flood…’
Paul took my hand and smiled, ‘No apologies needed. I know that the cows are your priority. To be honest, I thought you were all dead and drowned. We saw the carcasses of several cows floating in the courtyard.’
The rest of the group sploshed into the doorway. Shivering and coughing they looked bedraggled and injured. The water increased its ascent.
‘No time for catching up. We must go inside.’ I gestured to the rising rivulet.
‘Well, you’ve certainly chosen a good place to brave the storm. It must be ten stories high.
‘Should keep us safe until the waters decrease.’
‘If they ever do, which I doubt.’
‘Sarah, try to be a little more positive. We’ve gotten this far, haven’t we? And with the bulk of our equipment. This rain can’t last forever.’ Paul pointed to the brightening sky.
Sarah pulled down her sodden hood, shook water from her short, curly black hair and pushed past him muttering, ‘Oh, it can, it can.’
I stepped back to let the others follow her. Paul sighed and touched my arm. ‘Do you know where you’re headed? You don’t plan to reside here for long, do you?’
‘No, of course not. This is merely a place to stay until the water drops enough for us to continue on. We are going to the mountains. Beinn Bheag in the heart of the Trossachs. Don’t frown, both Arjuna and I did a lot of research. It’s one of the highest mountains in Scotland. It has grasslands for the cows and is hidden from the main thoroughfares.’
He whistled and rubbed his unshaven chin. ‘That’s quite a way on foot and with half a dozen cows in tow.’
I shrugged. ‘It has to be done, so it will be.’
‘Would it be a hindrance if we came too?’
My knees went all spongy. I gazed at his rain drippy face, at the large heart-shaped mole on his right cheek and felt the heat rise in my face. ‘Oh, yes, do come.’ I did not mean to sound so eager. ‘I…you and your fellow techs, scientists, are very welcome. We may be stronger in numbers, I think.’
‘Ah, the water is rising. Perhaps we should go indoors?’
‘Indeed, we should. The herd will need to be moved higher up.’
I turned and went inside feeling his warm breath upon my sodden neck.
The techs left their baggage in the foyer area so that they could shove and tug the cattle up the concrete steps. Mike and Kevin, two of the biochemists from the Manor, pulled faces as they pushed the back end of the cows. The bovines were afraid and passed wind several times, but eventually, they quietened and, sick of being manhandled, they moved by up the stairs by themselves.
Paul and I hauled the cumbersome hay trailers, Arjuna dragged the rest of the cattle feed. The containers were heavy and he panted and reddened with the effort. I wondered if we had enough feed for our arduous trip. Wondered more if there would be some fresh grass for the cows to eat as we travelled north.
We made several more trips for the luggage. I wondered what kind of scientific equipment lay inside. Paul saw my intent staring at the cases and said, ‘We brought batteries, 3D printers and lots of other technical equipment. Wherever it is we are going, our experiments need to continue. And before you ask what they are, don’t.’
We entered a big room dimly lit by fading strip lights that flickered and buzzed above our heads. The place was littered with overturned shop dummies, dress rails and chairs scattered about the floor. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Sarah rushed to pick up dry shirts, trousers, and jumpers whilst Kevin, to my utter appall, went to a window, opened it, pulled down his pants, stuck his behind through it and dumped his load, as some used to say.
‘Oh, Kev, mate. Disgusting.’
‘How so, Mike? At least the stuff from my innards is fresh. Unlike what we waded through down there in the street. Man, disgusting.’ He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, wiped himself, threw the cloth out of the window, redressed and joined his fellow scientists in grabbing clothes.
Arjuna prodded Daisy, she moved to the back, the other cows followed. ‘Here,’ I called to my fellow Goshala worker and threw my knapsack to him. ‘Pellets that will keep hunger from their bellies. Best keep the hay and corn sticks for the journey.’
The cows made deep throaty noises as they chewed on the meagre rations. The big white bull called Snowbone, spread his back legs and let loose a torrent of urine and sloppy excrement. The smell was more than powerful and all covered their noses and mouths.
‘Okay, Mike, now who’s disgusting?’
‘They are animals and don’t know any better. What is more, this act is natural. Besides, where else are they to go? Do not admonish the herd for…’
‘Okay, Man, let there be a chill.’
‘My name is Arjuna. Apologies, for my outburst.’ He bowed slightly, scratched his stubbled head and held out his hand.
‘No harm done,’ Mike said and gently shook Arjuna’s trembling fingertips.
Another cow, Holly, let out a moo and urinated. Two more followed suit.
‘Perhaps we should find another place to rest and let the cattle have this
space,’ Paul said.
We nodded and followed him into a smaller, darker room, illuminated only by the weak light that came through the grubby windows. This place was filled with underwear, scarves and to our delight, food. Well, biscuits, oatcakes, chocolate and other candy.
Like a blackbird looking for worms, Sarah caught sight of a beautifully ribbon-wrapped tin of shortbread lying on the floor. She snatched it up and yanked at the sealed lid with her tiny doll-like fingers. ‘Stupid, bloody, packaging.’ She screwed up her face making her small brown eyes even smaller, then with a, ‘Finally!’ prized open the lid and munched upon the sweet cakes. She spat out crumbs as she spoke, ‘Okay, we have dry clothes and some sort of sustenance. Now what? Wait it out in the hope the rain will stop and the turgid water below lowers enough so we can actually get out of here to higher ground?’
I walked towards her. ‘Yes, yes, that is what we had planned. Paul suggests we travel together to the place where we will be safe.’
She smirked and sneered at Paul. ‘Oh, Paul is in charge is he?’
‘No, Sarah, I am not. I just think that if Mayer and Arjuna know where they are going, then, since we don’t, it would be the best thing to go with them.’
‘And then what?’
Paul looked at the others. They blinked but offered no answer. Sarah shook her head and wandered off, pulling bras, knickers, and socks from hangers.
Arjuna appeared and beckoned to me. ‘What?’
He took me aside and whispered, ‘The herd is restless, afraid. I tried to calm them but Oak is stomping the floor. I fear he will run amok.’ Arjuna bit his split fingernails.
‘He sometimes calms when I sing to him.’ I took his arm and we went back into the large room. Oak, a vast black bull, his head down, snorted and began to paw at the slippery floor. The other cows, including our gentle Snowbone, backed away.
With Arjuna clutching the back of my robe, I walked towards the stressed-out beast and began to sing his favourite song. It was a wordless tune with high and low inflections that I made up from taking a deep sonorous chant we used when meditating and adding in a shrill almost owl-like sound.
The effect was that of a great yawn ending in a sharp sigh of satisfaction. Oak stopped stomping and lifted his head. I sang again and he quieted.
‘You have a gift of song that tames them.’
‘Ah, if only my voice could tame the winds and the water-filled clouds. Then we would be safe.’
Arjuna smiled. I patted Oak and the big bull licked my face. We led the cows away from their dung and wee, to settle inside the darkened changing room booths. They went into the cubicles as if they were at home and being led into their stable bays. We gathered some garments and arranged them in each small cubicle for the cows to nestle upon. Then we left them to sleep.
‘Shall we take some clothes too?’
Looking down at my drenched and mud-caked robe, at Arjuna’s similarly soaked clothes, I nodded. ‘Let us dress in more fitting gear. These monk’s wraps are not suited to the harsh elements we will no doubt face on our journey.’
I picked up two pairs of loose fitting trousers and several baggy but robust shirts and grabbed a sturdy looking water-proof coat complete with many pockets and a pretend fur–lined hood.
‘Look, Mayer, strong walking boots.’ Arjuna pointed at a row of leather shoes. I frowned. ‘Yes, I know we shun wearing anything that comes from a dead animal, but we must make an exception. Don’t you think?’
‘You’re right. We should do whatever we have to in order to survive. The world is changed, we are too, I fear.’
‘No, Mayer, I think we are the same but adapting. The wearing of these boots will not make us become meat-eaters or murderers of animals, just people doing what they need to survive, to keep the herd alive.’
‘Indeed. We are on a mission and we must complete it. We must prevail.’
‘We will.’
It was two days before we could leave the department store. Eventually, the rain ended, the streets became less flooded and we, armed with bottled water, tins and packets of dried foodstuff, which we carried in large wheeled suitcases, we began our long journey North, via the A1 road. I continued to record our journey in dribs and drabs, when we stopped to sleep.
We saw many other travellers. Some drove through the rising waters in high vehicles, honking the horns to make us move out of the way as they sped past. Some, like us, walked slowly along the side of the road. They stared with wide eyes when they saw the herd, we smiled back and hurried on wary of the look of hunger in their eyes.
However, when we came upon a group of men wearing yellow plastic suits and hard hats, Paul approached them.
‘Where are you heading?’ he said to a balding grey-bearded male.
He shrugged. ‘Upwards. That’s all we know. Can’t very well go back, too much water. We were repairing a bridge in Bury St Edmunds.’ He closed his eyes briefly, touched a fresh-looking scar on his neck, then continued, ‘Hurricane Ophelia came. Only six of us survived. Families all lost. Dead, no doubt. All dead.’ He straightens, sniffed and licked his chapped lips. ‘How about you? Oh, and, what’s with the cows?’
Paul looked to us. I put my finger on my lips and shook my head. ‘Us? We’re headed North. We’re trying to protect this herd. Who knows, maybe they’re the last cattle alive? I guess we must all try and go to the highest place we can find that isn’t under water.’
The man scowled and wiped the rain from his mouth. ‘Not so great anymore, this Britain, is it?’
I lowered my gaze, then looked at the hollow-eyed man. ‘You have food?’
He shook his head.
I turned to Arjuna. ‘Ah, no, Mayer, no. We cannot give our dwindling supplies to everyone we may come across.’
‘But…’ I did not continue my plea.
Sarah stepped forward and spoke so all could hear. ‘Look, these men are not just anyone, Arjuna. You can clearly see that. Engineers then?’
‘Yep and construction workers.’
‘Paul, we could use some experts in building, don’t you think?’
That is how we came to be more.
Onwards we went.
***
The cows complained, the humans too, but on we hiked for many days, leaving the main road when flooding barred our way.
As we approached higher ground, we saw fields still lush. So we drove the herd to eat off these pastures. I dare say, Daisy, Oak, and the rest would have stayed put, but our journey was just begun.
Sleeping in abandoned houses when we could, under the stars when we could not, we walked and walked. I sometimes sang to soothe both man and beast alike when tempers flared from lack of sleep and sustenance.
It was inevitable that moral would drop, especially when the driving rain beat down on us until we were utterly soaked, despite wearing waterproof overcoats.
The herd, unused to walking in such conditions, became stubborn and often refused to move on.
‘Go, run ahead with a handful of hay,’ Arjuna told me.
I did what he said and despite the deep puddles, I tramped swiftly waving the dried grass in front of their noses. Hunger drove them forward and for many miles through the deserted streets of Doncaster, we made our way.
Like all of the other cities we passed through, Doncaster was near derelict and without power despite the huge whirling windmills that spun generating electricity. With no one to get it to where it would do benefit, they were nothing more than huge, grotesque metal statues, redundant and in the way.
We saw some lights flicker in houses. Paul wanted to stop, but Arjuna shook his head. ‘We do not have food enough to allow our company to grow. If we pause whenever we see a sign of life, then our journey will be longer. Do you hear the thunder, see the heavy black clouds, feel the icy blast? More rain, more wind to batter us. Let us move on.’
Paul nodded. ‘You are right. Besides, those that remain, may have the disease. We can’t afford to take the chance of getting infec
ted. Yep, best be wary, I suppose. It’s just, oh I don’t know, I find it hard to walk past places where there might be life.’ He gave a sigh and strode away. There was a look on his face that made my chest tighten.
I turned to my fellow Goshala-hand. ‘Perhaps we can find food and shelter in the town centre? There will be shops, places where clothes, tents and the like could be procured.’
‘Exactly. Finally, someone is talking my language. I don’t know about the rest of you but I could do with some fresh underwear and something dry to put over my miserably damp body,’ Sarah said, slapped me on the back and winked. ‘Some of us need pads and such. Am I right?’
I nodded, for she was indeed right. The monthly cycle was not about to stop just because we were in trouble. We tramped on passing more boarded up buildings and abandoned cars. As we neared the city centre, there came a familiar smell.
‘The stench of death. The cattle will be wary of entering,’ Arjuna said.
‘I am too, but we must proceed. We need provisions.’
The herd mooed and slowed their pace. I tapped Daisy on the flank, reluctantly she walked on. The putrid smell became worse and Arjuna and I had to push and poke the cows to make them go forward. Sarah went on ahead, her hand over her mouth.
‘Dear god, has no one bothered to get rid of the dead?’
We stopped in the middle of the square. The cows stomped and snorted. Rubbish bins, boxes and carrier bags full of rotting food lay strewn around the floor. Carcasses of decaying rodents, birds, dogs and cats twitched as maggots writhed and fed on their putrid flesh.
‘Where the sodding hell is everybody?’ Mike pinched his large hooked nose and gagged.
‘Buggered off when things got to this state I guess. Can’t say as I blame them, who would want to live around all this filth, all of this horror.’
‘And germs.’ Sarah put her hand over her mouth and spoke through her fingers. ‘All very well waxing lyrical, Kevin, but we aren’t planning to make our home here, are we? Let’s just take what we need and leave this cess pit?’
The Chronicles of Mayer - Beginnings Page 3