by Jon Cronshaw
“Okay.”
3. The Cow
Abel pours the beans from a pair of tins into three bowls, handing one to Sis and the other to David. Rubbing his eyes, Abel coughs as the wood smoke billows around him. The fox rests on the boat’s seat, a crescent of orange and white. “We should eat and get on the road. It’s a few hours to Town, so I want to get there and back while there’s still light.”
“You know they’ll just give you some rotten meat,” David says, rolling his eyes. “We should take those knives and forks we got and head straight for Trinity.”
Abel drops his spoon into his bowl, wiping his mouth with his forearm. “It’s too far, kid.”
“We’ve done it loads of times. You’re only saying that because you like Sal.”
“That’s not true.” Abel shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. “The days are getting shorter and it’s getting colder out there. We can’t afford to get caught in a blizzard.” He glances at the half-filled sack of root vegetables resting behind the boat and goes over to them. “We’ve got enough potatoes and carrots to last a few weeks. We’ve got a few dozen tins, and we’ve probably got another few weeks before the animals hibernate.”
David places his bowl on the ground and looks over to Sis as she polishes off the last of her beans. “Slow down. You’ll give yourself a bad stomach.”
Sis ignores him.
David turns to Abel. “If she’s staying with us, food’s going to run out quicker.” He makes a furtive glance towards Sis. “Especially if she keeps eating like that.”
Abel nods and sits on the floor in front of the fire, poking it with a stick before picking up his bowl. “We’ll sort something,” he says, between mouthfuls. He turns to Sis. “What do you think?”
She gives an unsure look. “I don’t want to take your food.”
A half-smile curls at the corners of Abel’s lips. “We get food together and we share it. With three of us working together to hunt and find stuff for trade...” His half-smile turns into a grin. “The kid was saying we should start growing our own food. You think you could help with that?”
David looks up from his bowl. “We could plant potatoes and beets,” he says, his eyes brightening. “We could even get chickens eventually, and goats.”
Abel chuckles. “One step at a time, kid.”
“We could make it like Trinity,” David says, getting to his feet. “We could build a fence and have cows.”
“What’s cows?” Sis asks.
“Big things with horns,” Abel says.
David mimes the shape of horns protruding from the sides of his temples with his fingers. “They make milk.”
Sis gives a confused look. “Milk?”
David leans back and lets out a loud mooing sound. Sis flinches and darts to her feet, pushing her back against the wall, wide-eyed.
“Hey,” Abel says. “It’s okay. He’s just playing. That’s the noise cows make.”
Sis’s eyes dart from Abel to David and back.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Abel says. He smiles and puts his hands up to his ears, making horns with his fingers. “Moo,” he says, winking at Sis. “Moo.”
David laughs and does the same.
Sis gives a nervous smile. “Moo,” she says, her smile softening. “Moo.”
“She’s getting it, kid.” Abel says, laughing. He walks over to the shutters and raises them. “What do you think?” he asks, gesturing to the sky.
David stands at Abel’s side, his hand raised to shield his eyes from the glare. “Clouds are light. They’re not really moving.”
“So, what should we do?”
“It looks okay. I don’t think we’ll get rain.”
Abel pats David’s shoulder. “That’s good, kid. I think we’ll be alright.”
“How you know?” Sis asks, joining them.
“You can sometimes guess what’s going to happen by looking at the sky,” David says. “If the clouds are moving fast one way, but the winds going another, then you know to get shelter.”
Sis raises her eyebrows and turns to Abel. “You see that from sky?”
“Yep.” Abel rubs his beard. “It’s not always right, but you can usually make a good guess. You’ve got to watch and listen. You’ll start getting a feel for things when you let yourself.”
Sis nods. “We look for things different. I look for moving things. If something moves, I can tell before they see me. I scare them away and they won’t hurt me.”
“You mean when you shoot at people?”
Sis licks her bottom lip and stares at Abel. “I don’t want them to do what they did to Becca.”
There’s a long silence and Abel nods. “You’ve had it hard, Sis. We’ll make sure you don’t have to shoot any more people. It’s not right.”
“You gave me food and blankets when I killed those people kicking at you.”
Abel rubs the back of his neck. “That was different...” His voice trails off. “It’s not for me to judge. I just want you to know that if you want to run with us, you can.”
A tiny smile edges across her face. She squints, scanning the trees, and then looks back into the garage. “Okay.”
4. Town
Abel trudges along the highway, the dead fox pushing against the back of his neck and shoulders, David at his side. Sis rides on ahead, circling back occasionally to let them know the road ahead is clear.
“You think she’s alright?” David asks in a low voice.
“What do you mean?”
David shrugs. “I don’t know. She seems alright. Bit jumpy, I guess.”
Abel sighs. “She’s had it hard, kid. I remember when I first met you. You’ve come on so much.”
“We all have.”
“Yep.”
They walk in silence past dead pines and bent lampposts. The highway’s mossy surface lies torn and patchy, revealing the asphalt beneath. Cars rest on their sides, tipped onto the bare earth at the highway’s edge.
“Everything’s moved,” David says, pointing to a pickup truck, lying on its roof, half-submerged in wet dirt.
“Those raiders must have cleared the way for their truck.”
“There’s people,” Sis says, bringing her bike to a stop.
When Abel and David catch up to her, she signals to a point in the distance. Abel stares for a long time, squinting as he sweeps his gaze across the rolling landscape. “I don’t see anything.”
“There.” Sis points again.
Abel shakes his head and turns to David. “What do you reckon, kid?”
David shrugs.
“There’s two people.” She takes a rifle from her basket and raises the sight up to her right eye.
“Don’t,” Abel snaps.
Sis turns to him, scowling. “I won’t shoot.” She lines up the sight again and gestures to Abel, pointing at the lens. “Look.”
Abel frowns and slips the fox from his shoulders, laying it carefully on the road. He lines his right eye against the sight and looks through. “We know them.” He turns to David. “It’s Second Bob and Edna.”
“Why are they on the road?”
Abel shrugs and steps away from Sis, looking to where the sight was pointing. “Damn it, Sis,” he says, scooping up the fox and draping it over his shoulders, shuffling to distribute its weight. “You’ve got better eyes than me.”
Sis turns to him, shaking her head. “We look for different things.”
They walk for another ten minutes until Second Bob spots them and scrambles up the grassy embankment.
“Wait,” Abel calls out. “It’s just us.”
Second Bob stops as Edna emerges from behind a bramble bush, a tiny baby suckling at her breast. They stare at Abel with wild green eyes, their hair bright red and faces identical.
“Hey,” Abel smiles, gesturing to the child. “Is this the little one?”
“My boy,” Second Bob says, puffing out his chest.
“What’s he called?”
Second Bob gi
ves a confused look. “Second Second Bob.”
“Why not Third Bob?” David asks.
“Third Bob dead. He traitor.”
“He looks like he’ll be a strong kid,” Abel says. “Just like his pa.”
“Thanks, mister.”
“Is Big Ned around? I’ve got this.” Abel pats the fox.
“You too late.”
“For what?”
“They break everything,” Edna says, pulling her top down and resting the baby over her shoulder.
“They burn our home, mister. They take some women.”
“Who?”
“They came in night, mister. Had biggest critter I ever seen.”
“The king,” Sis says.
Second Bob gives her a blank look.
“Are they still there now?” Abel asks.
Second Bob shakes his head. “They gone.”
Abel clenches his fists. “Which way did they go?”
Second Bob exchanges a look with Edna and shrugs. “It was dark, mister. We not see.”
“Where’s Big Ned?”
Second Bob gestures over his shoulder. “Town. But it not really Town now.”
THE WINDING DIRT TRACK towards Town lies clear. A trail of scattered tree trunks and car parts lines the roadside. “They make good path,” Second Bob says, looking around. “They had magic box. It went on wheels by itself.”
“We saw that,” David says. “It came up here?”
“They put our things in it. Took things from our wall too.” When the trail flattens to a plateau, he comes to halt and turns to Abel.
The cars that once stood as a wall around the settlement lie on their roofs, some still smouldering from the fires.
Several huts rest in collapsed heaps. Piles of wood and debris lie strewn across the ground. Strips of blue polythene hang tattered among the ruins. People meander around, some aimlessly, others trying to rebuild.
A tall man, identical to Second Bob save for a cleft palate, gets to his feet and puffs out his chest, his left eye swollen shut. “Abel,” he says. “They destroy us.”
Abel frowns at Big Ned, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe they did this.”
“It was man who keep calling himself king.”
“What happened to your eye?”
Big Ned snorts and spits out a glob of phlegm. “He ask me to bend my knee and kiss hand.” He lets out a wheezing laugh. “I told him I no kiss men.”
Abel looks around, frowning. “Everyone okay?”
“They kill three my boys and take four women. King pull the boys up on rope at that tree.” He takes in a sharp breath. “They laughed at my boys. They got to get got.”
“Did you see which way they went?”
Big Ned tugs at his rat skull necklace. “They head to where sun goes at night.”
Abel looks west and nods. He stops. “Are they on the highway?”
Big Ned knits his brow.
“The big road.” Abel gestures behind him.
“That where they went.”
Abel sighs. “They’re heading towards Trinity,” he says, turning to David. “We need to warn them.”
“That look like good eats,” Big Ned says, nodding towards the fox. “We got no trades.”
Abel lets the fox slide to the ground, its legs spindly against the dirt. “It’s yours. Don’t worry about trade. Make sure your people are fed.”
Big Ned nods and pats Abel’s shoulder. “Next time you here, we make good eats.”
“Thanks.”
5. The Tent
The sun presses low against the horizon, the sky flooding with streaks of dull pink. A river flows parallel to the highway, winding its way east. A sheer embankment climbs up to the right, windswept trees hanging by their roots above. Sis brings her bike to a stop ahead of Abel and looks through her rifle’s sight.
“See anything?” Abel asks, approaching her.
Sis nods. “They camp down there.” She points along the highway, tracing the line of a road in the distance.
Abel closes his left eye and looks through the sight, its greenish hue tinting the world. He stops when the pointed top of a striped bell tent lines up with the crosshair. “Hopefully, they won’t do any harm if they’re setting up camp. I bet we could sneak past them and warn Trinity.”
Sis shakes her head and points. “People on road.”
Through the sight, Abel sees four men with rifles standing sentry next to the truck. “Damn it,” he mutters.
“What?” asks Sis.
“They’re blocking the road.” Squinting, he lowers the rifle, his focus adjusting. “I want to get a closer look,” he says, handing back the rifle. “See what we’re dealing with.”
“How are we going to get past?” David asks.
“We go round.”
David tilts his head. “We’ve got a river that side and it’s pretty steep up there. We’re going to be open on the road, and I don’t think we’ll do too well in the water.”
“Use boat,” Sis suggests.
Abel considers this for several seconds then shakes his head. “Good thinking, but it will take too long. The river will be flowing against us.”
Sis nods. “Best way is to keep on road. We just got to keep hidden.”
Abel lets out a snort and shakes his head. “It’s not going to work. Not with three of us.”
Sis makes a vague gesture towards the embankment to the right. “I can’t take bike up there. Quick sneak is best. We get trouble and I shoot.”
“Please try not to kill anyone,” Abel says, an exasperated tone creeping into his voice. “You’ll only get them mad.”
Sis pulls a face and free-wheels forward.
“I wish we’d packed,” David says, turning to Abel. “We’re not prepared for this.”
“Damn it, kid. We can’t just let those raiders get to Trinity. We can manage for one night.”
David sighs. “As long as you’re sure.”
“We wait until dark,” Sis says. “Shadow’s our friend.”
THE MOON SHINES A BRILLIANT silvery-white through the blackness of the night. Abel crawls on his elbows, dragging his body forward in the darkness to look over the king’s camp, the smell of wet soil and cooked meats filling the air.
The truck stands on the highway’s edge, overlooking the tents and bonfires as the horse laps at the water from the riverbank. Shadowy figures wander around the camp while others tend to the fires. The bell tent stands in the middle, its red and white stripes meeting at the top point. A pole stands at the tent’s entrance, a couple of severed heads driven onto its spike, one of them fresh and pale with bright red hair. The older head stares at Abel with dead eyes, its half-rotten mouth peeled back into a sneering grin. Abel shudders, averting his gaze.
“You think the king’s in that one?” David asks in a whisper.
“I’d say so, kid.”
“How are we going to get past?”
“I don’t know. They’re blocking the road and we can’t exactly stroll through their camp.”
Sis ducks over her handlebars at Abel’s side. “We can hide,” she says, looking back over her shoulder. “I can pick some off on road. Make a path.”
“That’s a bad idea,” says Abel. “There are too many of them.”
“I think she should,” David says.
“No, damn it. If we go round killing, we’re just as bad as them.”
“Surely it’s better to kill to stop more deaths?”
Abel sighs. “It’s not, kid. Trust me. It’s just not.”
“I can’t see anyone from Town. I thought they were with them?”
“We’ll get them out if we see them.”
The tent flaps open and the king emerges, the crown still perched on his head. The bike rider follows close behind him, carrying a crate.
“It’s him,” David says.
The cyclist lays the crate on the ground, and lets the king lean on his shoulder to climb up.
“I take
him out,” says Sis. “End this.”
Abel glares at her. “No.”
The king claps his hands three times and raises his head, eyes sparkling as the other members of his camp stop what they are doing and gravitate towards him.
“My people,” he says in a deep, booming voice. “Our quest has been a difficult one, but soon we will rejoice in the glory of our kingdom. As your king, I rule with a strong and fair hand. As our numbers grow and our righteousness is felt, it will only be a matter of time before order comes to this lawless wasteland.”
“I can’t hear what he’s saying,” David says, over the cheers.
Abel raises a finger to his mouth. “Shh.”
“The protected zone has kept us exiled for far too long,” the king continues. “When we build our kingdom, we will conquer what is ours. We will end the cycle of drugs and lawlessness. We will root out all those who oppose us and take back what is rightfully our birthright. Those beyond the wall have kept us scraping out a pathetic existence for too long. Well, I say, no more. Enough is enough is enough is enough.” Cheers drown out his words.
“What’s he on about?” asks David.
Abel shakes his head. “I don’t know, kid. He’s crazy.”
Sis pulls at Abel’s sleeve. “The road clear. We should go.”
Abel looks at Sis and then at the king. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He turns, and crawls back the way they came, curving his way towards the highway.
Reaching the road’s edge, Abel gets to his feet. “We’re going to be exposed going past. The best we can do is keep to the right and sneak past. Hopefully, they’ll be paying attention to the king.”
“We should go home,” says David, shaking his head.
“We need to warn Sal. We can’t not warn them.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Could you live with yourself if they got to Sal?” Abel clenches his jaw. “If they destroyed Trinity, you think you could live with knowing you could have warned them?
David sighs. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”
Abel leads the way, running forward with his head dipped low. The embankment stretches up to his right, steep and rocky. Wiry trees poke from the cracks above, leaning over the road, perched like vultures in the moonlight.