The Survivors Book IV: Spring

by V. L. Dreyer

I was hard at work in the kitchen getting get lunch ready when the radio I still carried out of habit crackled to life. "Sandy, you there?"

  "I'm here," I replied. I wandered over to the big windows that looked down on the courtyard, and immediately spotted the reason the guards were calling me: there was a slow-moving but determined convoy heading towards our front gates. "Oh, I see it. That's Sergeant Bryce. Let her in, and I'll be down in a second."

  By the time I'd washed my hands and fought my way through the crowds to the ground level, Erica had already dismounted and was deep in conversation with Johan. I got there just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation about horse husbandry that went way over my head.

  "Don't worry, we've got plenty of space here for the rest of the herd," Johan reassured her, then he spotted me and grinned. "Ah, there she is. I was just telling your friend that the mares are going to start coming into heat any day now, so we should start thinking about expanding our herd. No reason not to, since we've got the space and the numbers to warrant it."

  "Sounds good to me," I agreed. I glanced at the herd milling around the courtyard and grinned. "Wow, it looks like you managed to bring the whole lot of them with you, Sergeant. How did you manage to pull that off?"

  "It's easier than it looks," Erica replied. "Horses are herd beasts by nature, and tend to follow a single dominant mare. I just rode the dominant mare, and the others were happy to follow. I'll admit, I've never done it over such a long distance, but I'm very happy to say that I didn't lose any of them along the way. Quite a feat, really!"

  "Well, I'm glad you managed to pull it off," I replied. "So, those trucks are the books?"

  "Yes ma'am," she said, glancing back at the pair of trucks just coming to a stop behind the herd. "We had to leave a few things behind, but we've got the important stuff. Now that we know the way is open and fairly easy, I'm betting we could make the trip back in half the time if we need to."

  "I doubt we'll need to," I told her. "We have enough resources here in the south not to worry about it. I think you'll be very pleased once you've had a chance to look around and meet people. It's actually starting to get a little cramped up there, if you can believe it. We're going to need to start moving people out of the main tower and into the houses inside the fence soon."

  "There are houses inside the perimeter?" Erica asked, looking both surprised and pleased. "Well, this really was an ideal spot to build your new town, isn't it?"

  "It is," I agreed. "This used to be a film studio. We've checked the fence for holes and patched up any weak points, so it's all secure. There’s enough space to graze the animals, grow crops, and even expand our living space, all without leaving the security of the complex. We've even been working on a plan to turn that big warehouse over there into a giant greenhouse to keep us in fresh fruit and vegetables come winter. It was being used for sound stages, so the walls are removable and it's got built-in heating to keep it warm all year round."

  "Sounds brilliant," Erica said, then she grinned. "I, for one, will just be glad to sleep in a proper bed tonight. I hope you can arrange that for us?"

  I laughed and nodded. "Yep, and hot showers for everyone. Let the volunteers take care of the horses and unload the trucks. I’ve got a lot to show you."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I awoke the next morning to the sound of activity out in the hall. Michael was up and halfway through getting dressed, which meant we were already late. I muttered a low curse and rolled out of bed – or I tried to, but I overshot the edge and ended up in a heap on the floor with sheets and duvets all around me.

  Michael took one look at me, then cracked up laughing and raced over to help me up. "Dammit, Sandy. Do I need to keep reminding you that you're not as agile as you used to be?"

  "Apparently," I answered dryly. "Well, nothing injured but my pride. How late are we?"

  "Not late enough to matter," he replied. He gave me an affectionate smile, then leaned down to press a kiss to my lips. "We're back in that happy no-man's land where time doesn't really matter all that much, honey. Relax. We have a lovely home, we're going to have a family together, and we're safe." I opened my mouth to protest, but he just grinned and pressed a finger to my lips. "Hush. No one's going to leave us behind. Now, go do your stretches before the professor scolds you like a naughty school girl."

  Whatever I'd been planning to say vanished in laughter at the mental image he conjured up. I just nodded obediently and headed out into the living room to do the exercises Professor Madurrit had assigned me, while Michael packed a day bag for us to share.

  "Think we should toss in a change of clothes, just in case?" he called from the other room.

  "Better safe than sorry," I replied. "The scouts reported the building's in pretty bad shape, so it might take us a bit longer than we planned to clear everything out. Ugh, man, when did it get so hard to do squats?"

  Michael stuck his head out the door and watched with a cheeky grin on his face. "I'll take the blame for that. You need a hand?"

  "Only if I get stuck," I replied.

  He laughed and ducked back into our bedroom. "I'll pack a change, just in case. I mean, it's the National Library. It's gotta be pretty big, right?"

  "Yeah," I agreed. I paused between reps to catch my breath and stretch my back. "This place is supposed to be a repository of all the literature ever written in or about New Zealand. Assuming it's not burned out, that should be a fairly large amount of information."

  Michael came out of the bedroom with my backpack over his shoulder, and wandered over to kiss my cheek. "After all this preparation, it better not be burned out. I'm going to grab some breakfast. Want me to get your usual?"

  "Since when do I have a usual?" I asked, surprised.

  He laughed and gently prodded my swollen belly. "Since her. I do listen, you know. It's always fried tomatoes this, fried tomatoes that. With parsley. Always with parsley."

  I blinked owlishly and felt myself turning red. "Wow, I didn't realise I was that predictable."

  "You're not," he replied, his tone softening. "I just know you better than anyone else, remember? So, omelette and fried tomatoes, my love?"

  I couldn't help but laugh and nod. "Okay, okay. But don't forget the parsley!"

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, then he gave me another quick kiss and left the room.

  I spent a few minutes finishing my prescribed stretches, then I headed off to indulge in a long, hot shower. By the time I was done, I was surprised to find myself feeling much better. Whatever else she had going for her, the professor definitely knew what my body needed.

  When I finished bathing, I changed into my travel gear – or at least the pieces that still fitted – and made my way down to the dining room. Before I even made it through the doorway, I heard the sound of whoops and laughter, but there were too many bodies gathered around for me to see what was going on.

  "Lower!" a voice demanded. It took me a second to recognise it as Professor Madurrit. A few seconds passed, then she grunted in what sounded like mock annoyance. "I said lower, young man! You know what 'lower' means, or she wouldn't have ended up in this condition to begin with."

  The people around them hooted and jeered so loudly that I could barely hear the deep, male voice apologise to her. "Sorry, Professor."

  "Michael?" I called, struggling not to laugh. "Is that you in there? What's she doing to you?"

  "Mama!" Priya's voice greeted me. A few seconds later, she wriggled her way out of the crowd and threw her arms around me. "You're missing the funnies."

  "Oh, am I just?" I glanced up, just as the crowd peeled back to reveal the last thing I'd expected to see: Hemi was sitting backwards in a chair with his chin on the top rung while Michael massaged his back, with Anahera and Professor Madurrit watching like a pair of hawks. Michael shot a guilty look over his shoulder. I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "Well? What's this, then? And where are my fried tomatoes with parsley?"

  "Skye's making them," he
replied apologetically. "As soon as I got down here, the ladies jumped me and insisted I learn the basics of haputanga massage before we leave."

  I looked at the ladies in question. "Oh? What is haputanga massage, and should I be afraid?"

  "Afraid? No, dear heart." Anahera laughed and came over to me. She put her arm around my shoulders and guided me to the centre of the circle. "Haputanga is an important part of my culture, and one that I think we could all benefit from sharing. While I am not qualified to teach it, Ngaire is. 'Haputanga' is the Maori phrase for pregnancy and pre-natal care. We believe that it is important for both mother and baby to be relaxed, and that the father's help is instrumental in making sure that happens."

  "And why is he practicing on Hemi?" I asked dryly. "Last time I checked, he wasn't a pregnant woman."

  Everyone laughed at that, including Hemi himself. Anahera shook her head and grinned at me. "Well, if I am to be a grandmother, either by blood or adoption, it seems logical to teach them both at the same time. They're not the only ones, either. Many of our citizens will become parents in the days to come, so we’ll be teaching the art of haputanga to anyone who wants to learn."

  "Well, if it'll keep my back from playing up, then I'm all for it," I announced, then I marched over to the chair, shoved Hemi out of it, and plopped down in his place.

  Again, the people around us whooped with laughter and cheered, and for once I wasn't embarrassed at all.

  ***

  A few hours later, we were fed, dressed, and on the road with all the trucks that were still in working order. Between a hefty dose of fried tomatoes and a good massage, I was feeling sleepy and relaxed. I napped most of the way to Wellington, and woke just as Michael was guiding the Hilux along the last stretch of motorway leading into our country's former capital.

  Michael grabbed the walkie-talkie off the dashboard and spoke into it. "I'm seeing a lot of rubble up ahead. Are you sure it's safe to take the trucks this way?"

  There was a momentary silence, then one of the scouts replied. "Yeah, the Molesworth Street overpass is down. You should see an off-ramp on your left just before it. Take that, it's still good."

  "There," I said, pointing to an overgrown concrete ramp not far from in front of us. Michael nodded and handed the radio to me, then focused on driving.

  We crept up the off-ramp carefully, with a few people walking on either side to make sure that the concrete wasn't going to crumble beneath us, but it supported our weight just fine. At the top, we spotted a group of people on horses waving to us; from there, the way was easier. The streets were narrow, winding, and choked with the rusted hulks of old cars, but the scouts had made the most of the last few days and cleared a path for us. A few of the buildings had been reduced to rubble, but I was pleasantly surprised to see just how many were still intact.

  "Wellington was always prone to earthquakes, so most of the buildings here were built to a high standard," Michael commented thoughtfully. "Looks like they did a good job of it, huh?"

  "Looks like," I agreed. "Shame there are still so many bones, though."

  "We're going to bury them," he told me. "As part of the project to put to rest the infected, we're going to bury the bones as well."

  I shot him a startled look. "What? You're going to bury the remains of four million people? There's barely even four hundred of us!"

  "I didn't say it was going to be easy," he replied, "and I didn't say it was going to be quick – but it is the right thing to do. Hell, it may come down to our kids and grandkids to finish what we start, but you taught me that we need to think about the future. I don't want my daughter tripping over the bones of the dead while she’s learning to walk. Do you?"

  "No," I admitted. "I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around the scope of what you and Gavin want to do. I never said that I disapprove, it's just… massive."

  "It is, but it's the right thing to do," he said firmly. "Not just for the sake of hygiene, but also for respect. Like you always remind us, those bones were people once, people just like us. They deserve to rest in peace. If it were my bones lying on the pavement over there, I would hope that someone would take the time to bury them one day. If I have to work every day of the rest of my life to make this world a better place for the next generation and to let the last generation rest in peace, then I will."

  The determination in his voice made me smile. I let the conversation drop and focused on the road instead. After a few minutes of negotiating the clogged streets, I spotted a sign etched into the side of a building.

  "There!" I cried. "That weird-looking one, with the angled front. That's it!"

  The scouts guided our trucks up into the tiled arcade that ran alongside the library. I glanced at Michael and started to say something, only to stop when I saw the look on his face. "Whoa… honey, what's wrong?"

  "It just…" He hesitated for a second, shaking his head. "It looks so much like the place where Sophie died. It was always the books with her. She loved going to the library."

  "I'm so sorry, Michael," I said, reaching out to touch his hand.

  He wrapped his fingers around mine and drew them up to his lips, then smiled sadly at me. "It's hard to believe it's been nearly ten months since I saw her smiling face. Sometimes, it feels like just yesterday…"

  "Do you want to go home?" I asked. "We can leave the guys to take care of this, if you want. We don't really have to be here, they're perfectly capable of doing it."

  "No," he said, shaking his head. "I can handle it. It just gave me a shock, is all. I'll be okay."

  I frowned and nodded. "If you're sure…"

  "I'm sure," he replied. He put the truck in park, then climbed out and hurried around to help me out. Though it usually bugged me when people pampered me because of my condition, this time I just let it go without saying a word. If it gave him something to think about besides Sophie's grisly death, then that was fine by me.

  Within a few minutes, all of us had disembarked and gathered in front of the building, standing in a ring around the scouts. Warren stepped forward to address the group on their behalf, his face tense and alert.

  "We haven't been able to breach the interior of the building yet," he explained. "The doors are all locked, and we haven't been able to unlock them by conventional means. We decided to wait until you got here before we tried anything more drastic. You bought sledgehammers, right?"

  "We've got them, just like you asked," I replied. "You want us to try and break the glass?"

  "We can try that, I doubt it'll work," he said, shaking his head. "If the rioters weren't able to break in, then I doubt we can do much unless we resort to explosives. No, we found a weak point in the wall around the back. I'm pretty sure that we can bust through it without too much effort."

  "Assuming it's not a load-bearing wall," I commented dryly. "Show us anyway. We brought one of the engineers along, he should be able to tell us whether it's safe or not. Eugene?"

  A tall, painfully thin man with short, black hair and thick glasses stepped forward and nodded to us. "Show me the weak point, please."

  Warren grunted inarticulately and gestured for us to follow him. We picked our way across the crumbling flagstones, down a short flight of steps, and into an alley that ran behind the library. Warren stopped beside a fire door and pointed at the wall just beside it.

  "Here," he said, running his finger over the concrete. "If you look closely, there are some fine, hairline cracks running all the way through it. What do you think?"

  "Mmm." Eugene leaned in close to get a better look at the cracks – but his inspection was interrupted by a metallic shriek as the fire door swung open unexpectedly.

  I barely leapt out of the way in time to avoid being struck. Before I could even think of reaching for a weapon, I found myself staring down the barrel of a pair of rifles.

  "Get away from there and go back to wherever you came from," the woman behind one of the guns demanded, her tone cool and professional. She was a few years old
er than me, with the same intense, wild-eyed look that I'd seen in the mirror every morning up until recently. The man beside her was the complete opposite – small, nervous, and mousy – but while his hands did tremble on the hilt of the gun, there was determination in his eyes that made me think twice about crossing him.

  "Whoa, we don't mean any harm," I said, holding my hands up as if that might placate them. "We were coming to rescue the books, that's all. We didn't know there was anyone here."

  The woman raised an eyebrow and took a step towards me, though she didn't lower her weapon. "Rescue the books from what, exactly? And where were you planning to take them?"

  "From…" I hesitated, then shrugged and told her the truth. "I don't know, anything. We've founded a new city just north of here, in the Hutt Valley, and we're trying to collect anything we can find to remember and preserve the old world. Since we live so close to Wellington, it seemed logical to come here and try to save whatever we could before it was lost to fire, or the ocean, or just time."

  She hesitated for a second, then slowly lowered her gun. "You're not going to try and destroy anything?"

  I blinked in surprise and shock. "What? Why would we want to destroy our cultural history?"

  "People do strange things," she answered dryly. "We've been locked down in here for four days while your men were nosing around outside, so you'll forgive me for being a little suspicious. We've protected this library for ten years and we have no intention of giving it up without a fight."

  "You're… protecting it?" I echoed, then I looked at Erica and smiled. "All this worrying for nothing."

  Sergeant Bryce grunted inarticulately and nodded. "We should have known we weren't the only ones around who gave a damn about the books."

  Michael laughed and reached out to rub my shoulder reassuringly, then he glanced past me at the woman. "You know, I can't help but feel like I know you from somewhere."

  "I was just thinking the same thing, actually," she replied. "Did we go to school together? Or to Police College? I graduated about a year before the plague."