by A. S. Hames
“Your married life was just a day?”
“Yes, a week later we were both called into the army.”
“That’s rough, Ben.”
“We said hello at the training camp and… she didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“No.”
The colonel and the sergeant stand. Their bearing indicates we’re about to move again.
Ben sighs. “Some people cope with war better than others.”
Not me. Sometimes, I feel so lost. But that’s not just war. It’s life in every aspect.
“Let’s move,” the sergeant says.
We haul ourselves to our feet and reacquaint ourselves with our sore soles. And we’re off again, moving through the forest, down a tough slope into thicker woods. The first few minutes are the hardest, because everything either aches or hurts. Then the various pains blend into a general dullness which is easier to handle.
“Trail ahead,” the sergeant says from the front.
It’s a trail running north-south and it’s broad and walkable.
“Roadway Five,” the colonel says. “Now we head south.”
And so we do, mile after mile over crushed rock and black grit and all kinds of other hard bits that make walking and driving a lot easier. Oh for a truck. But there are no trucks, so we continue down through the forest on foot until dusk.
Eventually we stop and settle either side of the trail with our guns ready to fire up the road and hopefully not across at each other. I’m grateful for the chance to rest. I lay down, head on my pack, and… the ghost of a soldier is reporting me to the colonel… but I’ve found Ma… in a forest… over a river… and I call to her that it’s okay to be an empath… but some people overhear me… and they grab Ma… and they start cutting out her organs… and she calls to me, “it’s alright, Jay, it’s not your fault”… but it is my fault… it is very much my fault.
BEN
A crack of twig! I open my eyes. My hand goes for my gun. I’m in a forest. There’s a hint of light through the canopy. Taff is nearby with Von. Others are stirring too. I forgot I was here.
I reach into my pack and take a little water and throw a cookie to our wolf. He catches it expertly. I eat one myself, but it doesn’t fill me, so I dig for insects or larvae to eat. After a while, I’m less hungry but I’m still tired. I could easily go back to sleep. I mustn’t though, so I check my feet. They are sore but I’ll be okay. My boots are in good order, thank God. Others have footwear in a far less satisfactory state.
Once we get walking again, it’s not so bad. The hours pass and we’re not dead. It’s also noticeable we’re leaving the high ground. In fact, it might be worth climbing a tall pine for a look. If the terrain is continuing downward, then we’d have a clear view of what lies ahead, even if it’s only more forest.
I suggest it to the colonel.
“Yes, good idea. But not you. Those top branches are too thin.” He’s looking around. Seems it’s a straight choice between the child-sergeant and no-one.
“I’ll do it,” the child-sergeant says, removing his cap to show the patch where his hair was burned off.
Trust him to volunteer.
“Be careful,” I say.
He hands me his cap. “Don’t drop it.”
And up he goes. He’s a good climber, moving swiftly through the branches and foliage until he’s almost vanished from view.
“I can’t quite see,” he says.
Now I’m thinking it should have been me climbing. At least I know how to use a pair of goddamn eyes.
A snap. And another. That doesn’t sound good.
“Whoa!”
Oh no, here he comes, crashing through branches and whoomph, he’s on the ground.
“Stand back,” the colonel says.
The child-sergeant is groaning, so he’s not dead.
“Are you okay?” the colonel asks.
“I’m fine,” the child-sergeant wheezes. “I caught my foot. I don’t think it’s broken.”
That sends a pang right through me. The thought of serious damage here in the forest… No, he said he’s fine. And, to prove it, he tries to get up. I see him wince. We all see it.
“It’s not broken,” he says again.
“Can you walk on it?” the colonel asks.
The child-sergeant tries. Oh, he tries. But no, he cannot walk on it. He can only hobble with extreme pain written into his expression.
“Maybe if we strap the ankle,” Jay says. She looks worried.
The child-sergeant sits down and removes his boot. Oh my. His ankle is swelling fast and his sole is a blistered mess.
“If we strap the ankle,” the colonel says, “the boot won’t fit.”
The colonel is right. This boy cannot continue.
“Yes colonel,” the child-sergeant says. He’s fighting back tears. We all are.
The colonel clears his throat. “Get yourself off the trail, sergeant. Find a creek. You’ll have fish and water. Keep your feet clean. You should be fit to travel again in a week or so.”
“I don’t mind staying put, colonel,” he says. “I could shoot a few rebels when they come through.”
“Get yourself to safety, sergeant. That’s an order. When you’re fit again, you have my permission to travel whichever way you wish. Good luck.”
We all wish him good luck.
“Watch out for cats,” Sergeant Seven-Nine says.
I do something I never do. I give him a hug. I don’t think he likes it though. Maybe because he outranks me.
JAY
Everyone leaves except me. I feel so bad. All the irritation he’s caused me fades to absolutely nothing. He is a young boy and we’re leaving him on his own in a dark forest. I look into his eyes and I see someone just trying to make something of his life.
“Take care, sub,” he says, showing me he’s far braver than I’ll ever be.
I nod and see that there’s nothing else to be done. Nothing. I just look at that plucky young face one last time.
“Good luck, sergeant.”
I hurry to catch up with the company, but find my fears forcing me to delay joining them. It’s not looking good. We’re down to ten of us plus a wolf. It’s seems impossible that it’s just a week, more or less, since we left home. It feels like a year.
“Keep up,” Taff says. He and Von look light on their feet.
But I’m finding it hard to keep up. I’m feeling weaker that’s why. I reckon I’ve lost weight. I suppose we all have. Hopefully, we’ll find some way to feed ourselves soon because I don’t know how long this forest goes on for. It could be forever because there doesn’t seem to be any end to it.
And I keep hearing things. These forests are alive. I have a vision of the child-sergeant crawling after us. Then I have a vision of a wildcats, snakes, and sharp-toothed rodents.
“Here,” Ben says. He’s offering me a cookie.
“I’m fine.”
He shrugs and eats it himself.
“Creek ahead,” the colonel says.
In no time at all, we’re all taking a drink from a small creek that runs alongside this part of Roadway Five. We’re also all looking into the water for signs of life.
And there it is. A tiny silver glint. And another.
“There might be fish,” Taff says, long after I’m thinking how to catch them.
“Can we shoot them?” the Representative says.
“They’re too small,” the colonel says.
As it is, Ax empties out his pack, steps into the water and scoops up tons of it. As it drains out through the holes in the bottom seam, he’s left with a small fish. We all admire him for a moment until we realize that’s his lunch, not ours. Now it’s a crazy scramble to transfer stuff to our pockets and join in with our own packs.
It turns out Ax must have got lucky because the rest of us go at it for an age with little success. I don’t know much about fishing, but I think having people splashing around is a bad idea.
Of course, the R
epresentative just stands there watching us fail. He’s expecting others to catch his fish for him. I’m just glad he doesn’t make a big deal about it because I think he’d be pushing his luck too far, which might have someone like Dub pushing him in the water and saying catch your own damned fish.
Sometimes you need people like Dub.
We keep at it though and have a little more success. Then we light a fire and find sticks to skewer our catch. It’s not long before the aroma of sizzling fish is driving me insane with hunger. I can’t think about anything else. It’s like there’s no war or missing comrades. I’m just busy dribbling with Von and neither of us can stop it.
“I’m looking forward to this, colonel,” the Representative says. “How much longer?”
Well blow me down. He didn’t catch anything and now he’s putting himself at the head of the line. He may be senior to everyone else, but he doesn’t seem to understand how to make friends.
The colonel hands him one of his own.
“That should be ready, Mr Representative,” he says.
The Representative is so keen, he burns his tongue and makes a fuss about it. I feel like shooting him dead and eating the damn thing for him. But I don’t. He’s the Leader of the Nation’s personal representative, he has the power to end the war, and you can’t go killing him over a fish, even if he disgusts you with his attitude.
Thankfully, it’s not long before mine and Von’s are done. They’re good too – possibly the tastiest meal I can remember. The only problem is it being over before I’m ready for it to end. And the colonel allows no rest. As soon as we’ve eaten, we’re putting out the fire and strapping our damp packs over our shoulders.
BEN
After many hours of steady progress, the trees are thinning out. We’re coming out of the forest. Another hour and there are hills to our left and mountains to our right. Ahead is a vast basin.
We walk on, crossing wooden bridges over creeks and crunching down on the road. It goes on for a few more hours. Then out of nowhere, we’re stopping at a railroad. It’s running east-west, so I have no idea if it’s the line we would have come down or not.
Here, by the tracks, we camp for the night. A small army with small complaints relating to blisters and aches. I’m sure some of us will dream of a train pulling up to offer a ride the rest of the way.
I sleep like I’ve died, full and deep, and yet I’m awake at first light and ready to move on. I take some water, and eat a cookie and some grubs I dig up. There’s no conversation between any of us. There’s nothing to say.
“Straight on,” the colonel says.
So we march, and my wishful dreams start up again. I’m with Jay. We’re enjoying a picnic of bread, cheese, apples, and beer by a lake. She leans over to kiss me…
JAY
We journey south for ten miles under a rising hot sun. I’m feeling weak but there’s no sign of anything we might eat. Unless you count a furry little black and white striped thing that looked like some kind of squirrel. Thankfully, it’s not all bad news. We have more small creeks crossing the trail to provide water and I have my army cap to keep the sun out of my eyes.
Coming off a downward bend, the colonel halts to use his spyglass. We all halt behind him.
“Well, well,” he says, “what have we here?”
I hate that. Why doesn’t he just say what it is? But it’s not long before we reach what the colonel saw. A fork in the road with two signs staked in the ground. The one to the left says:
SOUTHBOUND TRAIL
The one to the right says:
RENNER’S TOWN – STRANGERS KEEP OUT!
The colonel reads them out for the benefit of those who aren’t literate and then he leads us down the right-hand track. We’re going to Renner’s Town. In response, I tighten the straps on my pack and bring my gun around a little more to the front.
23. Renner’s Town and Beyond
JAY
Renner’s Town is still a little way up ahead, but we’re in an unusual landscape – as if we’re walking through a town that no longer exists. There are no buildings to speak of, and certainly no people, but there’s the look of something having been here a long time ago.
“Strange place,” Ben says. “Is that a fallen chimney stack?”
“Could be.”
“I wonder what happened.”
It’s a good question.
While we’re taking it all in, I tell Ben about the envelope, and how he and Dub are my choices to know the secret information. He’s a little disbelieving at first and it’s not like I can get it out and wave it around. I think he comes around to accepting what I’ve told him, but it’s drawn glances from the sergeant and the film woman. I might have to delay telling Dub.
To cover myself, I catch up with the colonel and make a point of looking around.
“Do you see what I see, colonel?”
He checks that the Representative is nowhere near.
“Disease, maybe.”
That makes me shiver. What if the disease still lurks?
“There are many old stories about people abandoning towns,” he says. “I’m sure your father told you.”
“No,” I say, and that’s the truth. “Pa was never one to talk about the past.”
“No, well… there are penalties for spreading lies, of course. That’s why the old stories are fading away. But…” He looks around again, making sure we’re not overheard. “…if you listen hard, you’ll hear some saying this kind of thing happened all over.”
“All over the Nation?”
“All over the world.”
I think about that. “The whole world?”
“Some say it was God punishing us, some say it was Mother Nature fighting back, others say it was us – humanity – fighting each other.”
“What do you think, colonel?”
“I think it’s dangerous to discuss it.”
The colonel walks on, but I feel drawn to this old place. There’s the ghost of a house to my right where I can make out the remains of a wall. Maybe that’s how it was built: a brick construction front and side with a big chimney stack. The rest would have been timber. Except for the roof covering. I look around and, sure enough, there are broken tiles. No timbers though. I wonder if the people of Renner’s Town took anything reusable to build new homes. I know I would.
I have a root around among the weeds by the fallen stack. And I find things. Human things. A wooden cooking spoon. It’s almost crumbled to nothing but someone prepared food with this. How long ago, I wonder.
I keep looking and I find a shard of white china. It’s part of a cup. I search for the rest of it but only find two pieces worth fitting together. What I have reads UNIVERSITY.
This place of long-gone buildings – there’s more than just silence here. There’s an untold story. People lived here. It wasn’t always fragments and rust, lost to the world.
I wonder about finding more evidence of past lives, but the others have moved on and I don’t want to be left behind.
As I reach them, Ax nods to me. I nod back. I wish we could stop being captain and sub-lieutenant. I wish we could be a brother and sister who care about each other. I wish we could damn well talk about what’s happened and fix it.
The colonel stops. We all stop.
There are six armed men standing by a railroad track up ahead.
“We need supplies,” the colonel calls to them, “and a vehicle if you have one.”
“You need to move on,” one of them calls back. He easily makes it sound like a threat.
“Is that so?” Sergeant Seven-Nine says. I can see he’s ready to fight.
“You can’t stay,” the Renner’s Town man says. “We have no vehicles or food to spare.”
“You have a duty to feed the army,” the colonel says.
“Not after two bad years,” the man says. “We took a vote two days ago. We’re now independent.”
“Independent of the Nation?”
“Indepe
ndent of everyone: the Nation, the East and South States, the redcoats…”
I wonder what he’s talking about. Who are the East and South States? Worrying that the situation is about to get worse, I get my gun a little more into a firing position.
Renner’s Town eyes are on me. Renner’s Town fingers tighten on triggers. The colonel eyes me.
What have I done? I’m trapped in a halfway situation. If I take my finger off the trigger, everyone will think I’m a coward. So I carefully loosen the strap so the gun slowly lowers until I’m aiming at the ground without letting that trigger go. I stand like this for a few seconds and I feel the eyes move away from me.
“Leave now,” the Renner’s Town man says.
He backs away, taking his men with him, and I’m wondering what to make of it.
“South,” the colonel says.
We move off, back toward Roadway Five. The Renner’s Town men watch us as they withdraw. So I’m surprised when the colonel raises his hand and stops.
We all stop.
I’m thinking we should keep moving. We don’t need a gunfight here with these people. There are other people coming after us who we can have a gunfight with anytime we please.
“There are men following us,” the colonel says. “They won’t be as accommodating. I suggest you have more than six at the ready. Twenty or thirty might be better.”
The colonel sets off again. We follow.
I glance back at the Renner’s Town men.
“It’s true,” I call to them.
“Is that it?” the Representative says to the colonel.
“It’s open ground and they have the advantage,” the colonel explains.
The Representative grumbles but it makes no difference. I’m just wondering about that man talking of the Nation and the East and South States, as if they were similar things. Then something occurs to me. Is Colonel Steven Rose linked to these States?
“What are the East and South States?” Zu asks.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” the colonel says.