by Derek Gunn
In reality he had done no more than all those who had become thralls but he still hated himself. He had managed to avoid the serum but, as his rage had finally begun the recede, he began to realise that his path would bring him only more pain and despair. Each night he slept fitfully as his soul tried to deal with the rage in his heart. He knew that he was damned but he had no idea what he could do. Humanity was enslaved and it was far too late for him to turn on his masters.
It was only when he had come to this town and had met Captain Egan that he had begun to see another path. The thrall Captain had shown him that not all humans were bad and that some of them were even worth saving. He began to realise that no matter how vicious and evil some humans could be it was no excuse for what he had become. Being with Harris and his friends had rekindled feelings he had thought gone forever. But it had been his time with April that had brought back those happy memories of his sister. At first it had been hard, the memories were just too vivid, but he began to learn that the memories did not have to hurt, they could also bring joy, if he let them.
While he had been away he had thought long and hard about his relationship with April. He worried that he was the one who was using her. That she might be uncomfortable but was afraid to say anything to him. He certainly had not detected that she was afraid of him but it had been so long for him since he had had human contact that he was out of practice.
He had concentrated hard and was quite adept at sign language now, though there had been many hilarious mistakes where he had signed the wrong phrase and had sent April in fits of laughter. Sign was difficult but he had plenty of time between missions and he really did enjoy the girl’s company. She was very like Cat in many ways, though not so much as to be morbid.
It wasn’t that he was trying to replace his sister, that could never happen, but April was alone and her vulnerability seemed to call out to him. He had wanted to do so many things with his sister, bring her to so many places, and now that would never happen. Maybe now he would get the chance to show April some of what he had planned for Cat. Maybe he could be the brother April had never had and in being there for her maybe he could also fill the hole that still threatened to envelope him.
He was well aware of what some people thought but he chose to ignore them. They could keep their sick thoughts to themselves. He had stopped worrying about what others thought long ago. He did worry, though, about what April thought and how people would treat her. He had not had a chance to talk to her since the rumors had begun so he would have to talk to her now.
His initial worry about whether she would want to see him at all, especially in light of his injuries, was shattered when she had flown into the hospital room and thrown herself over him, burying her face in his neck. She held him tightly and it hurt like hell but it was worth every stitch that would need to be reapplied. He would talk to her about the rumors later.
When the pain had subsided a little.
The election was over and the results were in, although the result was not quite the landslide that Regan had thought it might be. He had won, by quite a margin thanks to the spin he had managed to put on the recent events, but he did not have the total clean sweep he had been hoping for. Harris watched Regan as he sat among his new inner circle. He had called a meeting of the new government so that they could assign each member with his or her main responsibilities.
The biggest problem any government faced with an electorate who did not know them was that they could not involve the voters and get their support going forward unless the voters felt they had been part of the formation of the ruling committee. Because they had such a mix of people in their small community, and because most of these groups had little knowledge of who actually made up their current committee, it had been decided that everyone would get a chance to put their own names forward for election. That way, individuals who were popular within certain groups and understood the needs of that group would have the chance to have those interests heard.
There had been fifteen places up for election and there was a minimum number of votes required for a candidate to be deemed elected. If too few people reached the required number then those positions which were unfilled by the voters would be filled at the discretion of the new leader of the community. The person with the most votes in total would lead the new ‘government’ and would also have final say as to what positions each member would hold on the committee.
The result was something of a quandary. Voters had filled ten positions by direct vote, leaving five positions to be filled by whoever would lead the community going forward. Father Reilly retained his seat, as did Lucy Irvine and Denis Johnson. All three were popular and well known in the community. Pat Smith had lost his place, as had Sandra Harrington, a direct reaction to the fact that neither had done any canvassing. The fact that Pat Smith had been working in his lab and Sandra had been in hospital had obviously not been taken into account.
The voting had been closer for the top position than anyone had realized. The appearance of Harris with thirty rescued people in tow as the election drew to a close reminded those who had not yet voted what it was that he was trying to achieve. In fact, many who had already voted tried to change their votes when they saw the bedraggled survivors but were refused. It was a matter of too little too late. There were just too few left who had not voted, and in the end Phil Regan had received the most votes.
Ian Phelps and Patricia Lohan had the dubious honor of having polled the lowest number of votes but, on receiving confirmation of his new position, Regan immediately re-instated both of them. He also named John Kelly as one of his discretionary seats; some people wondered at this and suggestions were made that this was payment in lieu for services rendered while he had served on the previous committee. Though nothing could be proved. This made some pause and wonder about how long Regan had been planning the election and how much more he had hidden from them. However, to most it passed unnoticed.
He had two more places to fill, but, as yet, no one knew who they might be. The two empty chairs on either side of Regan’s group were like a physical divide that separated them from the rest of the members of the new government as they sat in closed session to plan out who would take which area of responsibility.
Each member of government who had been voted to a position would receive a portfolio that gave him or her the final say and responsibility for their designated area. Major decisions would still need a vote by the entire committee, but the day to day running of the community, supplies and resources, would be the responsibility of the relevant member. There were only ten portfolios so this session was crucial for how the government would work together for the foreseeable future.
This would mean that whoever controlled Agriculture would control all the details and decisions that pertained to planting, harvesting and finding the resources required for a year’s successful harvest. Someone else would control the storing and distribution of this harvest, and someone else would control all matters around the security of the planting fields and the stored supplies.
Each portfolio would ensure each member of the government would hold quite a lot of power in the community, but some of these portfolios brought with them a lot more power than others, and Harris was worried. The portfolios would be decided by a vote. One member of the government would put a name forward for a position, not his own of course, and then the others would either ratify that vote or not by a majority vote. In the event of a tied vote Regan would have the deciding call.
Harris knew that Regan would be trying to get his people voted into the main positions of Administration, Resource Management and Security. Administration would control the community’s workforce. It was their decision who was assigned to each sector and how many of the community’s scarce numbers would be assigned to each work detail. Without the cooperation of whoever controlled Administration it would be impossible to staff any other area. Resource Management controlled all non-living resources. All equipment, vehicles and w
eapons would be controlled by whoever ran the resource management portfolio and the power they would wield was obvious. Security was to be split into two sections, internal and external. The internal security force would effectively police the community. They would be the law in their community, and whoever controlled the law had a huge say in what would be allowed and what would not.
There were other areas controlling Housing, External Security, Social Services, Food (excluding Agriculture), Foreign Affairs (while there were no other communities as yet the position was considered important enough that it would be assigned for a future they hoped would someday become a reality) and Health.
There were five new faces that were a completely unknown commodity to all sides. Harris didn’t know the two men or three women who now sat with him on the government panel but he hoped that they would give a much needed balance to the committee rather than a further fracturing that would ensure that nothing would ever actually get done.
The first of these was Ben Thackery. Thackery was a brute of a man who used his sheer size and overbearing confidence to bend others to his will. He was a man who could very easily become a bully and Harris did not yet know enough to decide whether he already was or whether it was merely his size and forceful personality that made him appear so. He was a huge man with broad shoulders that made even Warkowski look wimpy. His hands were massive and were lined with the scars of a man who had used his hands all his life to support himself. Thackery had been a farmer, and a good one from what Harris had heard. He had supported his family and had balanced the rising costs of modern farming against the constant eroding of what he was paid for his hard work. Before the vampires had come he had been close to bankruptcy, as most of his fellow farmers had been, and he had been pivotal in organizing these men into an effective union that had tried, with some limited success, to ensure that they were paid a fair price for their labor.
He was an obvious candidate from the start as many of the men and women who had followed him in the old world had again listened to his promises that he would look after their interests in the new government. He had found his three children but his wife was still missing, and the cynical among the electorate might have commented that he had played the sympathy card a little too much during the election. Though Harris respected any man who stood up for his ideals. It would become clear over time whether Thackery would be willing to work with others or whether he would use his influence and power to look after his own agenda.
Amanda Reitzig was an anomaly. She was diminutive and seemed to huddle in her chair as if the loud din of conversations around her swept through her like physical waves. She seemed to be too quiet and unimposing to have received even a single vote, but her outward appearance was deceptive in the extreme. She was a firebrand when it came to her area of expertise. She was the community’s first real doctor, though she had yet to complete the exams the old world had insisted on before she could officially use the term physician.
While she appeared quiet outside of her surgery, no one dared enter her hospital without paying her due respect. She had fiery red hair that matched her volcanic temper if someone tried to stop her doing her job. She had a line of freckles across her nose like the trail of a small bird, giving her an impish look that made her look far younger than she actually was. Her small stature further added to this impression. She had plain features, with a nose that was a little too large for her small, round face and a chin that was a little too weak for her to be called pretty. Her eyes, though, more than made up for any physical imperfections. They were a startling green and they shone with an inner fire and with such intelligence and fun that most people only ever remembered her as beautiful.
Parents liked her and children adored her, and she had been voted onto the government without even putting herself forward. In fact, the first she had known of her involvement in the election at all had been when she had been informed that she had actually been elected. No one had thought to stipulate that a candidate had to actually apply for candidacy so it was ruled that the people had a right to elect whom they wanted.
Penny Arkwright was a widow, and her unfortunate tendency to purse her mouth gave a severe, and in no way representative, impression of her personality. She was a clever woman of indeterminate age. If Harris had to guess he’d put her in her late fifties—though he would not dare guess out loud.
She was a fair woman and had received her block of votes from women, mostly mothers, who knew her from the small school she had set up for the children of the community. She was highly intelligent and well respected, and Harris had high hopes that she would keep all of them grounded.
Philip Scholes worried Harris. His eyes never seemed quite capable of meeting those of the people he spoke to. Harris had always subscribed to the school of thought that only people who had something to hide could not look you straight in the eye, at least once during a conversation. It wasn’t as if the man was shy, he had no trouble letting his views be known. In fact, it was his views that Harris worried most about.
Scholes believed that the current situation should be taken advantage of here and now. They should eat, drink and be merry for now because there was no future anyway. They should enjoy themselves while it lasted and not worry about anybody else. His views differed slightly, though very importantly, from Regan’s. While they both wanted to bury their heads in the sand and ignore the larger issues affecting the human race, at least Regan did want to build for a future by planting food, rationing supplies and building their community with as little risk as possible. Regan did see the need to rescue others; he was well aware that the community still needed far more people in skilled positions to ensure that harvests would be successful and that their health was adequately catered for. Where he and Regan disagreed was in the timing and methodology.
Scholes, however, didn’t care. He wanted them to ignore the serum, ignore the dwindling supplies, and just enjoy the time they had left. The fact that he had gotten elected at all was worrying as it meant that there was a large enough section of the community who agreed with him.
Paul Williams made up the last of the new faces and Harris knew nothing at all about the man. Strangely, no one he talked to knew much about him either, but he had developed a committed following in the community by seeming to support everyone’s view to an extent and failing to push forward any of his own. He seemed to appeal to people because he came across as a friendly brother, or in the ladies’ opinions, a favored brother’s friend.
He was a handsome man standing just over six foot tall. He had jet-black hair and a trimmed beard that seemed to emulate his indecisive personality by hovering somewhere between a goatee and a full beard. Nothing about the man was overly memorable, and when Harris had introduced himself earlier he had come away not knowing much about him. He was polite and nodded amiably enough but never seemed to fully agree or disagree with anything. Fence sitting was something they could ill afford with the committee balanced as it was.
Regan laughed and Harris’s attention was drawn to him, and for a moment Harris caught his eye. Something seemed to pass between them and Harris was confused. It wasn’t that Regan was a bad man, he just had his own ideas about how things should be done and they didn’t always coincide with Harris’s or those of the older committee members. His main focus was on what they had now and ensuring that they could survive with what they had. He just didn’t believe that the serum was as big a threat as Harris knew it to be. Or if he did, he was not prepared to risk what they had for the greater good.
It was in this that the man was defined. Some people had a very strong sense of moral responsibility and it was these kinds of people who had pursued the case for humanitarian ideals all through history. Great leaders were those who were able to balance the greater good against policies that were not always popular. Unfortunately Regan wasn’t a great leader but the caliber of his advisors was the biggest worry for Harris. They had their own agendas and, without the correct focus, Regan could
end up leading them all to ruin despite his good intentions. Harris wondered if Regan was aware just how far he could really rely on his lieutenants.
Regan broke the eye contact with Harris and then called the meeting to order. Harris’s thoughts, though, were not on the meeting as they should have been. Harris, too, was not a great leader. He was too easily distracted and too eager to save others to really make the hard decisions that would be needed of them all if they were to survive. It was a shame that the two most charismatic people in the community were too blinkered by their own agendas that neither could see that the best solution might just be midway between the two. However, Harris at least recognized some of his own failings, and he did try to surround himself with people who could provide the balance that he himself lacked. Even as the meeting came to order Harris was unable to fully concentrate and he felt his thoughts shift towards the border as he wondered what the impact of their last mission had been.
Chapter 14
The sun began to slip behind the horizon and the shadows raced over the land like greyhounds released from their traps. As Falconi watched the advancing darkness he felt a paralyzing sense of dread flood through him. Fires still burned on the battlefield and thick smoke still clung stubbornly to the ground, hiding the many grotesque and torn bodies that still littered the landscape.