by Vance Huxley
* * *
Emmy soon had had plenty of other gardening jobs to keep them occupied. Harold trudged up the road to home after a day in the fields. At least now that the rain had stopped the sun began to dry the soil but mud still impeded every effort to work outside the walls. He opened the house door and leant against the frame to remove his wellies. “Take off your boots out there. Don’t you dare trek mud in here.”
“Yes Sharyn, I hear and obey.” Harold smiled to himself as he scraped his boots then put them on a mesh over a water tub, using the hosepipe to get the mud off. “I’m even saving the mud so Emmy doesn’t beat on me for stealing her garden.” Harold sluiced the worst off his hands at the same time, then went inside to finish that in the washroom.
Sharyn inspected him as he came into the living room. “Good. As a reward, you can have rhubarb tonight.”
“Without sugar.”
“Without sugar. The sugar beet fields were flooded or some other rubbish while you were on your timeout last year.”
Harold frowned. “That might be true.” He sniggered. “Maybe the squirrels ate it all.”
“Don’t start with squirrels again. What are all the mudpuppies doing out there in that mess anyway, planting rice?” Sharyn waved in the general direction of the fields.
“Planting out baby this and baby that. The plants can either swim or breath water according to Emmy. She swears the sludge otherwise known as soil will be good for them.” Harold shrugged. “I can believe that, because the weeds love it. Worse, we’ve got bramble seedlings starting up.”
“Mmm, goody, blackberries.”
“No. Bad, if they’re in the gardens.” Harold scowled. “Though Emmy won’t let us throw them into the compost or they’ll sprout there. Worse, we have to nurture the little swine and replant them half a mile away out in the ruins once she lets us straighten our aching backs from her muddy acres.”
“Mmm, goody, blackberries.”
“I give in.” Harold stopped, looking at the carpet. “Ah, I thought you were quick off the mark about boots.” A line of dark footprints led across the carpet towards the stairs, accompanied by a set of smaller ones but with twice as many feet.
“The school took the children to help with the seedlings, and Daisy brought one home.” Sharyn sighed. “I caught her halfway up the stairs taking her prize to show Daddy, and ask if he wanted one in the love place.” Sharyn sat down. “Is that healthy? She’s got half a dozen drawings on her wall of dead people. They’re all smiling and happy and surrounded by fairies and unicorns but even so?”
“She’s also got drawings of Angel, Casper, pirate ships, and the Red Cross Elephant. There’s an Orchard picture and even a couple of pictures from her colouring books that she liked.” Harold shrugged. “At least she knows where Daddy is, unlike too many other kids.”
“True. Oh, be careful going out the back. Emmy has claimed the conservatory as an extra greenhouse.” Sharyn smirked. “I managed to get Daisy to put her plant in there after Daddy saw it, so it’s not lonely. I didn’t fancy Daisy loose in her bedroom with a watering can full of stinky water.”
“Cripes no. Has Emmy claimed all the conservatories?” Sharyn nodded which didn’t surprise Harold in retrospect. He hoped Emmy would eventually ease off her drive to plant and grow food because Curtis would have, before it became a real obsession. Though right now her drive kept dragging or driving the residents out into the mud where a polite request might not. Everyone knew why Emmy did it. Her baby bump reminded any who needed it, and so far nobody really resented her pushing. After all Orchard Close truly did need every bit of food that could be grown. The marts had less and less fresh food every time Harold went.
“Uncle-Harold, come and look! Aunty-Emmy has given me my very own greenhouse to look after. Can I have a stinky water tub in the back garden please? For my greenhouse.” Harold looked over at Sharyn as a small hand tugged him towards the conservatory only to see a shrug and a smirk.
“I’m not sure about a tub of stinky water, not next to the house. You’ll have to check with Mummy.” Harold stopped in the doorway to the conservatory, staring at the rows of trays and plant pots full of greenery. “Cripes. I thought you had one plant?”
Daisy pointed at a bright red plant pot. “That one is my practice plant, then if I don’t kill it I can have more. We need more shelves though, Aunty-Emmy said so. To Mummy but I heard her. Can you put up shelves please? Can I help?” Harold rolled his eyes and gave up any thought of resting his aching back.
“I’ll need some tools and wood. I’d suppose we’d better include Wills or he’ll complain.” Inspiration struck. “He could be your helper in here. You can train him not to spill stinky water or trek mud inside.” Hopefully training Wills to be careful would mean Daisy remembered to do the same. By the time they were called through for tea Harold really hoped those plants were hardy, considering the amount of inspection and ‘care’ they were receiving. Though none of them would ever be eaten by a bug or caterpillar with two very keen pairs of eyes watching over them. Both four-year-old Wills and Daisy seemed very happy to be included in the gardening and hopefully they’d work off some energy there.
* * *
A week after Daisy started her gardening apprenticeship, and well over a hundred miles northeast, the improvement in gardening conditions brought smiles to the faces around the table in the bunker. “Sunshine at last. I trust the farmers are out there making hay, or at least something to put in my marts for the scum to eat?” Ivy smiled sourly. “Yes I know some fresh food has arrived but not enough and we are still having to scrape the mouldering remains of last year out of storage.”
“Not for long Ivy. As a plus I am assured that unless we get some really terrible weather everything will grow very well because of the extra moisture and milder temperatures. The increase in arrested gardeners is noted with gratitude, especially that influx from the marts. Arresting them for shoplifting was very effective, Ivy.” Henry nodded his thanks to Grace as well. “Ask no questions and all that, Grace, but however you are motivating the gardeners seems to be working really well from the reports coming back. Very few are failing, though we still have a steady wastage of scum in their work gangs who can’t understand the consequences.” Henry sat back. “I really believe we have a chance of hitting the food production targets this year.”
Owen, the chairman, nodded. “Just in case your increase in crops isn’t big enough, we will make plans to close down another city. We considered the second largest, Birmingham, but Joshua wants something more manageable for the first trial of the civilian contractors. We are looking at these.” The map came up on the screen with five cities highlighted. “These all originally held about half a million people, though now they only have twenty percent of that or probably a lot less left. Any comments?”
“Not Edinburgh. If the animals are pushed like that, some may break into the castle and free some very embarrassing prisoners. Even if they’re killed instead of freed the Armed Forces may become restless. Having their commander-in-chief tucked away safe, recovering from wounds, stops any hotheads and gives us legitimacy.” Faraz, the RAF liaison, shrugged. “Especially with the feral population of Edinburgh stopping any closer scrutiny.”
“Not Bradford or Sheffield, not for a trial run. If this goes wrong there’s half a dozen big population centres nearby and if their containment is breached we’ll lose Lincolnshire at least.” Henry glanced upwards. “Not only is Lincolnshire a breadbasket but that could be personally very embarrassing, possibly fatal.” The rest glanced upwards briefly.
“There’s one where we could allow a breakout when the weather is really bad, if you can wait until winter? They’ll be heading into wilderness, but nicely contained so we can use artillery without destroying anything useful. As a bonus the buildings in the city should be in a better condition if there’s no actual fighting around them.” Joshua highlighted one location. “If we can ensure they go north?”
Owen chuckle
d. “An excellent solution that allows the terrain deal with survivors, especially bearing in mind Henry’s point. Better yet, if they break out we won’t be left with another London needing a permanent garrison. Are you sure the training of Grace’s people is finished, Joshua?”
“They came along well enough for us to push on to a second stage. The civilian contractors are currently clearing out the unflooded areas of York which means the whole eastern area of England from Middlesbrough to south of The Wash will be cleared of scum. Apart from Hull, but that isn’t big enough to be a problem so we can clear the place next year.” Joshua grimaced. “Vanna’s civilian contractors are processing the population from York without all the bother of feeding or accommodating them.”
“I did point out that even if they weren’t really soldiers, they would do the jobs your Army boys wouldn’t.” Vanna smirked. “We reopened one of the special facilities so the clean-up won’t take long. Does this mean the Army can move further west, letting the tractors spread out?”
“Yes, their new line will run south from just above Leeds.” Joshua highlighted a road running down the country, cutting off the eastern, less populated third of the country.
“Have you enough tanks?” Ivy ran her eyes over the map. “That’s a long stretch of road to seal off, about two hundred miles.”
Joshua shrugged. “Lighter armoured vehicles will carry out the actual patrolling. We couldn’t pull the heavy armour from the Middle East or Ukraine before the balloon went up. Now we must optimise what we have. We are pulling more vehicles out of storage and training crews as fast as possible.”
Ivy smiled happily. “We should be able to roll straight up the country once that’s done, to finish the culling. We’ve already achieved one major objective by reducing power consumption to what can be produced by eco-generation.”
“About time we achieved one of them at least.”
Joshua ignored Boris’s sullen comment. “We won’t be able to use most of the vehicles for culling cities. They are light reconnaissance vehicles, only useful for protecting convoys or sweeping the approaches clear on a motorway because the vehicles must avoid close action.” He looked around the table. “We weren’t able to get our heavy fighting vehicles out of the Middle East or the Ukraine before the plan went into action, or we might have tipped someone off. At least let the army reactivate the rest of the mothballed heavy armour before pushing for more attacks. Many of the large population centres are concentrated.” He outlined a group of cities. “I suggest we leave this central and north-western part of England until last.”
“I have no problem with that. The current progress is excellent because the tractors can move into much more farmland.” Henry looked at the map. “Wales or Cornwall would be my choice for the next area targets?”
Owen chuckled. “Steady down Henry. First we shut off supplies to a major population because new areas won’t produce food this year even if you can use tractors. Demand must go down. Christmas, Joshua?”
“As long as I can use Vanna’s people in the Army posts during the initial revolt, rather than lose more soldiers? If Vanna can sort out people she can spare, clean house a bit?” Vanna nodded. “Then we’ll organise everything before Christmas. Will there be plenty of transport?” Joshua turned to Gerard.
“Yes but try to keep movement to a minimum because the Falklands refinery will be some time yet as explained. Ways around the problem have been found but fuel and food won’t start arriving until late autumn. There simply isn’t the spare fuel to ship large amounts before then.” Gerard shrugged. “We are bringing one big cargo ship full of coffee beans over or there’ll be riots. Ivy assures me the preparation will concentrate on quantity rather than quality but one load should be enough.”
Ivy sighed. “Perhaps, but there are other imports in very short supply. What about tea? We are bagging up the dust from the warehouses at the moment. We’ve had to improvise which means at least half the leaf in there is not tea. Perhaps tea can be brought from South America, in the same convoy?”
“Good point Ivy, after all if the marts run out entirely we may have to deal with unplanned riots. Please consult where necessary to work out the minimum of both tea and coffee needed to supply the marts into the New Year. The emphasis should once again be on quantity not quality.” Owen raised his cup. “For most of it. Will the meat products hold out over winter if we cut out another city?”
The red-haired woman shrugged. “We’ve got just about enough frozen pork left to give a hint of flavour. One less major city to feed will definitely help. We cram any sort of meat in the dried or paste products of course, but must have pork to provide the taste in spam.” She grimaced. “I don’t care about most of the consequences of not enough fat but vitamin deficiencies and widespread depression could cause massive rioting. We have to provide them with a balanced diet, because too many of the enclosed populations are reading up about dietary deficiencies.”
“If there are further problems with supply, I really don’t care what you put in their food to keep them quiet short-term. On second thoughts, don’t put people in there. The packers might get upset if a relative turns up for mincing.” Owen laughed but some seemed uncertain if he really was joking. “The navy can lay up a battleship to provide fuel for cargo ships to move coffee beans, tea, and probably beans for chocolate since we don’t want half the population up in arms. Maurice, if you would start preparations for Joshua’s clearance operation this winter? Let him know if someone might be a problem and the snipers will deal with him.”
“Or her. There are some truly impressive women appearing as leaders. I can prepare, but might need a trigger, something for the final push.” Maurice frowned. “Stopping tea, beer and coffee works for triggering mart attacks, but to get them out of the city might need more?”
“Give that some thought. Let us know if you need anything extra. Now Gerard, how is diesel going to actually restrict Joshua, or food distribution?” The meeting bent over their files.
As they left Owen delayed Maurice. “How are the traumatised coming along?”
“Promising. Give me six months, because this isn’t a precise art, but then we should have a control method perfected.” Maurice hurried to catch up with the Vanna, to discuss ways of improving the collection of information from the enclaves.
* * *
The current problem in one enclave wouldn’t really concern the cabal. Emmy headed towards Harold’s house with an expression that meant trouble. He briefly considered hiding but she’d already spotted him. “Don’t blame me. Those shelves were fine for plants but not for children to climb.” Daisy and Wills had chased each other up Harold’s shelving in the conservatory, pulling about half of it off the wall. Allegedly they had been hunting a really hungry, nasty bug.
“That’s not a problem. We’ve already put the plants back into pots and watered them in. I doubt we’ll lose more than a handful. What I need right now is your glower.” Emmy beamed. “But first I want your lawn.”
“Lawns again? I thought we decided that the acreage out there could feed us all.” Harold frowned and skipped the next bit, about what Curtis said. “Won’t it?”
“Maybe, if everything grows properly. Curtis worried because if we lose some to a pest or a disease, the rest won’t be enough. I’ve been thinking about that.” Emmy brandished a broken roof slate. “Look, it’s all worked out.”
Harold looked at the chalk drawing on the slate, showing stick people moving little plants here and there following arrows. “I give in, I’m baffled. Though Daisy will love it.” He ducked but too late to avoid a gentle clip on the head.
“The seedlings are reared in here, in conservatories and greenhouses, but then they need hardening outside. Not only that but we need the space in greenhouses to start more seeds. Outside the walls the poor seedlings will be subjected to an onslaught of rabbits and birds.” Harold nodded since that cleared up what those little squiggly things were. “Inside Orchard Close we have no rabbi
ts and the birds have to be careful because of cats. Better yet, we can keep a closer lookout for caterpillars and leaf miners, and a list of other disgusting little critturs in my gardening book.”
Harold looked round with a sinking feeling of inevitability. “How many lawns? Most of the back gardens are already under veg.”
“Not much over half the back gardens have been dug up yet, but even if they are all used it isn’t enough. We need all the lawns at the front as well. This way we can plant oodles of everything then if some fail we’ve either got new seedlings coming through, or extra hardened plants. When the last ones go out into the fields a few more can mature in here as a final crop before winter. With the three cellars in here and those big houses with cellars outside the walls we can store the extra, especially since some veggies won’t want freezing or preserving.” Emmy stopped to wait while Harold caught up. Unfortunately that all sounded perfectly logical, which wouldn’t matter to some.
“I’ll ask.”
“Glower and tell them.”
“I’ll ask.”
“Wimp.” Emmy smiled. “I’ll cry?”
“I’ll ask.”
Harold asked, but just a selected few at first. “I don’t care.” Liz waved her hands round her forge. “I prefer soot and beating on iron.” She frowned. “You’ll need lots of backup, especially from the originals.” Then she patted Harold on the shoulder and smirked. “The rest of the residents came through that gate under an agreement to do as you told them. Try Casper next because he’s a pushover.”
Casper agreed that as the Orchard Fairy he would stand behind Harold and loom, especially since the grass among the trees would be staying. “Though what about the dogs? You know, toilet walks. Rascal isn’t up to walking as far as the other end of his garden let alone outside the walls.”
“None of them wait to get to the ruins anyway. I have to carry a plastic seaside spade because Angel thinks anyplace outside the door is good enough.” Harold paused. “Which is better than the alternative.”