The Survivors Book IV: Spring

by V. L. Dreyer

  The Survivors Book IV: Spring

  By V. L Dreyer

  ***

  Credits:

  Story by V. L. Dreyer

  Edited by Holly Simmons

  Cover Art by Alais Legrand

  Graphic Design by Alyssa Talboys

  ***

  First Edition

  All material contained herein is Copyright © V. L. Dreyer 2015. All rights reserved.

  The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, or used in the form of parody.

  ISBN 978-0-473-31309-8

  ***

  For more works by this author, please visit:

  http://www.vldreyer.com

  ***

  Table Of Contents

  THE JOURNEY SO FAR

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  EPILOGUE

  THE CAST

  KIWIANA LANGUAGE GUIDE

  EXCERPT FROM THE IMMORTALITY CLAUSE

  Foreword

  The Survivors series is set in New Zealand. In order to preserve the authenticity of the setting and the heroine's voice, this novel has been written in New Zealand English.

  New Zealand English (NZE) is an off-shoot of British English, but the geographical isolation of the country has given rise to a quirky sub-dialect that is neither entirely British, nor Australian.

  I have attempted to make this novel as easily accessible as possible for readers around the world by providing contextual explanations for most words. However, as the language variations are subtle and frequent, it is not always possible to do this.

  A more in-depth article on the language used in this book is available on my website, where you also have the facility to ask me questions.

  http://www.vldreyer.com

  The Journey So Far

  Ten years ago, I lost my family and all of my friends to the devastating plague that came to be known as Ebola X. I've spent the last decade running for my life, always alone, constantly afraid, with nobody that I could trust.

  This summer, everything changed. I met a group of good people. For the first time in my adult life, I've started to feel like I belong again. I've found friendship, a family, and love. Through all the turmoil, I've found a reason to keep going: Tumanako, the city of Hope.

  It's been a difficult journey so far and it's not going to get any easier. We've battled bandits, gangs, and the ravenous dead to make it this far, the half-way point in our journey. I won't give up now. We're so close. I will see my dream reach fruition, if I have to fight to my last breath to make it happen.

  Humanity needs this. I need this. One way or another, we will see this through.

  Chapter One

  "Whoa!" I cried, yanking the reins as hard as I could. The horse ignored me and took off at a trot in the wrong direction.

  Sergeant Bryce laughed uproariously and shouted instructions after me, "Keep your heels down, McDermott! Lean back in the saddle, and pull gently on the reins. Gently! Stop sawing her mouth, you'll make her mad."

  "Make her mad? She's making me mad!" I yelled back, but I followed her instructions anyway. To my surprise, the horse responded: she slowed to a walk, and then stopped.

  Bryce nudged her mount forward and trotted up to my side. "That's it. Just try to remember that she's a living thing, same as you. I'm sure you wouldn't like to have someone tugging on your mouth."

  "No, I suppose I wouldn't," I agreed grudgingly. I sighed and leaned forward to pat the horse's neck. "Sorry, Buttercup. My bad."

  "Boudicca," Sergeant Bryce corrected. "Her name is Boudicca. I name all the horses after historical figures."

  "To honour their memory?" I asked. "I like that."

  "Exactly," Bryce replied. She ran her hand down her horse's mane affectionately. "This old fellow is Pericles. It seemed appropriate, somehow. He talks a lot."

  I laughed, but the levity didn't last long. "Are you sure you won't come with us, Erica?"

  "Oh, I'm sure." She smiled at me, her sun-browned face aged far beyond its years by all the time she'd spent outdoors. "We'll follow eventually, once we're sure that there are no more stragglers coming this way. Your message is bound to bring more people over the Central Plateau. We'll stay as a rear guard, and direct them after you."

  "That satellite phone you gave us should help us keep in touch," I replied. "At least now we can contact you when we need to, and you can update the broadcast for us. That'll save time."

  "Yes. The road south of here is going to be quite tough on you, even with the horses." Bryce sighed heavily and shook her head. "We've got plenty of trucks to spare, but not nearly enough fuel."

  "It's fine," I replied. I gently nudged my horse around and guided her back towards the base, with Bryce close behind me. "The horses are more useful to us right now than trucks, anyway. We've managed to convert a couple of ours to propane, but if we don't find more petrol soon then we're going to have to start abandoning the vehicles. "

  "Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that," Bryce replied. "You’re going to need all the resources you can get once you reach Avalon. In the mean time, I suggest that you keep following the highway south. It'll take you across the mountains, down onto the plains, and then along the coast. You'll have to swing eastwards at Porirua and double back a bit, but that's better than going the other way. The central route would take you across the Rimutaka Ranges, and with this cold I can guarantee the pass will be blocked by snow before you get there."

  "Yeah, that’s what we were planning to do," I said. "If we don't find any gas in Taihape, we may have to risk a detour through Palmerston North to search for supplies, though."

  "You might get lucky," she said, frowning thoughtfully. "Not many people around Taihape, so there’s a good chance you’ll find what you need. If not… my understanding is that the riots pretty much ripped Palmerston North apart, but I haven't heard of any gang activity in the area. At least that’s something."

  "You keep tabs on gang activity to the south?" I asked, suddenly very interested.

  She shrugged, her expression unreadable. "We do what we can to keep civilization afloat, but there are only three of us. The least we can do is attempt to keep track of danger and warn travellers."

  "I'd really like to take a look at your maps before we leave, if you wouldn't mind." I glanced at her and gave her a smile. "Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do for you before we go, Erica? You've helped us so much that I feel a little guilty not giving anything back."

  "No, we don't need anything," she answered simply. "The base is well-stocked. We may be isolated, but we're all trained to live off the land. As soon as we realised that we were all alone out here, we planted a big garden inside the base and rounded up as many stock animals as we could find. I'm just giving you a small fraction of our surplus." She paused for a second and gave me a long look. "Though, if you really do feel indebted, there is something you can do for us."

  "Anything," I replied immediately. "Well, anything within reason, of course."r />
  The Sergeant barked one of her sharp laughs and gave me a wry smile. "Well, when I say 'us', I mean it in the broadest sense of the word. It's been, what… three days now? I've gotten a good feel for you and your little pack of misfits. What I see is a lot of people struggling to find a bond with their lost culture. I want you to help them find it."

  I stared at her, confused. "You want me to help my mates to find their lost culture? How am I supposed to do that?"

  Erica laughed again and shook her head. "I'll explain in a second, I promise."

  She fell silent as we approached the small paddock where the rest of the horses waited, along with our friends. With the exception of the people on guard duty elsewhere, everyone was in the field talking to, playing with, and learning to ride the horses. Priya cried out a greeting and waved to me enthusiastically. Michael hurried over to open the gate for us, and then once we were safely inside he helped me dismount.

  I smiled and gave him a kiss by way of greeting, ignoring the teasing hoots from all around us. Since our wedding three days earlier, my instinctive need for discretion had all but faded away and I no longer felt the desire to hide our relationship behind closed doors. It felt… good. I felt good. Despite the long journey ahead of us, I felt better than I had in a very long time.

  "Hey. I'm not done with you yet, McDermott," Sergeant Bryce joked gruffly. Although it had made me a little uncomfortable at first, I'd gotten used to her rough-and-tumble sense of humour. She reminded me of Jim in many ways, except she was far more willing to open herself up and make friends.

  "Sorry, sorry!" I joked right back, holding my hands up in mock self-defence. "We were talking about culture?"

  "Yes, we were. Come with me." Sergeant Bryce gave Michael a long-suffering look, and added, "Yes, Mrs McDermott. You can come, too."

  Michael laughed, just as he'd done every time she called him that. "You know I'm stuck with that nickname now, right? Thanks, Ricky. Much appreciated."

  "You keep calling me Ricky, and I'll keep calling you Mrs McDermott. That's the arrangement," she replied, snapping her fingers playfully at him.

  Michael started to chuckle again, then suddenly he froze and gave her an embarrassed look. "Wait – It just occurred to me that you might genuinely not like being called 'Ricky'. It wasn't intended as an insult or anything."

  "And it wasn't taken as one." Her broad face relaxed into a smile and she made a dismissive gesture with one hand. "I like Ricky. Erica, Bryce, Ricky, Sergeant – it doesn’t really bother me"

  "Okay, so long as you're not actually upset," he replied, putting on that whipped puppy expression I knew so well. "I hate to admit it, but… I don't really understand. You, I mean. Not the name thing."

  Erica sighed and glanced at me. "I've already had to explain it at least twice a day since you guys arrived. Explain it to your man, will you?"

  "Sure," I agreed. I gestured for her to lead on, and took Michael's hand. While we were walking back towards the base that the soldiers called home, I explained the Sergeant's identity as she'd explained it to me. "Sergeant Bryce is bi-gender. That means she identifies as both male and female simultaneously." I glanced at her. "Did I get that right, Sarge?"

  "Bang on, McDermott," she replied with a grin. "Good to know that you were listening."

  "I'm always listening," I answered dryly. "You're just not always good at making yourself clear."

  "I'm still confused," Michael admitted sheepishly. "Can I ask a question?"

  "Of course, son," Sergeant Bryce responded, her expression easing back into a friendly smile. Despite the constant teasing, it was obvious that she'd developed a bit of a soft spot for him. That didn't surprise me at all, since they were birds of feather. Both of them had a wicked sense of humour, but at the core they just wanted to protect and serve. The only difference was how they'd chosen to do it.

  "I'm sorry, I don't know how to ask this politely," he admitted, looking more and more sheepish by the moment. "Does that… does that mean you… have both guy and girl parts?"

  Sergeant Bryce and I exchanged a stunned look, then we both cracked up laughing. We laughed so hard that we had to stop walking, and I started seeing stars from lack of oxygen. When my laughter finally faded, I glanced at the Sergeant to check if she was offended, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t.

  I took a deep breath and looked back at Michael, struggling to keep myself under control. "No, honey. Biologically, she’s a woman. I don’t understand it well enough to explain it in great detail, but the simple answer is that she is who she is and we should try to respect that. She’ll tell us if there’s something we need to know."

  "Well, that I can do," Michael agreed, his expression brightening. “Sorry if I’ve said anything offensive, Sergeant. Please don't hate me."

  "I don't hate you, son," she said, her tone turning gentle again. "I don't hate anyone who's willing to learn. Learning is the most important part of life – and that's why I'm dragging you both home with me. Now, if we're done picking apart my gender identity, let's get inside before the rain comes back."

  We fell into a comfortable silence as we walked the rest of the way, though once the humour was no longer distracting me I began to worry again. The rain had been nearly incessant for the last few weeks, and every droplet increased the risk of a serious flood. Still, there was some part of me that told me that we had to keep travelling. If we could just get out of the highlands and away from the Waikato, then we’d be safe.

  A few minutes later, Erica shoved open a door and led us up a flight of stairs into what had obviously once been crew quarters. There were no crewmen anymore, though – just hundreds and hundreds of books. Maybe thousands. She'd managed to collect at least a dozen bookcases, but it clearly wasn't enough; books, CDs, and DVDs sat in neat piles on the floor and stacked up on the old bunk beds. In one corner, framed artwork rested beneath drop-cloths to protect it from the dust. A few small sculptures and stuffed animals sat on another small table near the door.

  "Whoa," I gasped. "Is this what you meant by culture?"

  "Yes. You see this? This is just a book, right?" Erica went over to one of the nearest piles and picked a book up off the top of the stack. She turned back to face us with the book in her hand, her expression intense. "Wrong. It's not just a book anymore; it's a piece of our history, our intellectual, spiritual, and cultural legacy. Someone made this, McDermott. Everything in this room was created by another person, and that's important. They're not just books anymore. Not just movies, or paintings, or albums. Not just things. These objects are a record of who we were. One day, these things may be all that's left of us. Isn't that worth protecting?"

  "I never thought of it like that," I said softly. Understanding struck me like a solid wave of force, and suddenly I found tears in my eyes. I brushed them away hastily and took a deep breath. "You're right. That is worth protecting. That's the whole point of museums, isn't it? We preserve the past so that future generations can better understand their own roots. What's the point of saving lives if we can't save their identities as well?"

  "Then we'll just have to figure out a way to do that, too," Michael said resolutely, all traces of humour gone from his voice and replaced by steely determination. "I have faith in us – all of us. We can do it."

  "Yes." I stood up a little straighter and glanced up at him, seeking solace in his eyes. "Once we've established our new city and the weather clears up, then we'll figure out a way to transport all of this to our new city."

  "Don't forget that the National Library is in Wellington," Erica said, absently trailing her fingers across the cover of the book. "The National Library is a repository of everything made by Kiwi creators over the years. Assuming that it survived the riots, we should be able to salvage a lot of material."

  I nodded and took one last look around the room, then I glanced back at her. "We need to get back on the road. If we leave now, we should be able to get half way to Taihape before we run out of daylight."


  Sergeant Bryce just nodded. She put the book back down and led us out of the room, back to face the mission that seemed to be taking on a life all of its own.

  Chapter Two

  It took longer than anticipated to get the convoy ready to move again. Along with half-a-dozen horses, the satellite phone, and fresh supplies, Sergeant Bryce had given us a spare wagon and tracings to help us in our voyage. She accompanied us for the first few kilometres, while our people learned the art of driving a team. Skylar had insisted on taking the first shift behind the reins, for reasons that I could only guess at.

  "It's a good thing you picked patient horses," I called to Sergeant Bryce. Boudicca snorted and flicked her head, not quite sure whether I was talking to her, but she calmed down when I reached out and patted the back of her neck. It had taken a while for us to get a feel for one another, but we were swiftly becoming fast friends.

  "Skylar’s doing just fine," Sergeant Bryce replied, her voice firm and confident. "It just takes practice."

  "See? I'm doing fine!" Skye called, looking about as proud as I'd ever seen her.

  I gently leaned back in the saddle and eased my mount into line beside them. "Who said anything about Skylar? I meant all of the horses, not just the team. It can't be easy for them to have to deal with a bunch of newbies like us."

  "Oh, yeah." Skye laughed and shook her head. "We'll get there. Like Ricky said, it just takes practice. But hey, at least no one's fallen off yet!"

  "Thank heavens for small favours," I answered dryly. I glanced up at the sky to gauge the time, then looked at Sergeant Bryce. "You're going to have to head off soon, if you want to make it back to Waiouru before dusk."

  "Yes, I am." She glanced at me and gave me a tight smile. "Keep me updated on your progress southwards. I'll set your new message broadcasting tonight."

  "Thank you." I hesitated for a second, then I reached over and gently touched her arm. "Not just the horses or the phone or the supplies, but… for everything. I'm glad to know there are so many people out there who share my vision."