The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn

by Dreyer, V. L.

  Michael and I had also decided to keep our engagement a secret for the time being. I wore my ring on its chain around my neck, hidden beneath my clothing, but Michael had reluctantly taken his off since he was going to be spending most of his day underwater. It was in my pocket now, nestled safely within the most secure compartment I had.

  I suppose, in theory, carrying the rings went against my normal ethics. They were technically dead weight that added to our burdens while contributing nothing, but for once in my life I was okay with that. Even in my most perverse moment, I couldn’t bring myself to resent the tiny added weight of an engagement ring from my beloved around my throat. I couldn’t even feel it, but knowing it was there made me feel like I was connected to him even when we were separated. When I thought about it that way, it was worth a hundred times its meagre weight in emotional value.

  Hiding a secretive smile, I ducked beneath an overhanging branch and scrambled up a shallow ledge that was slippery with leaf mould. The debris was so thick that I didn’t even realise the ledge was made of concrete until I was standing on it.

  “I think we’ve got something,” I called over my shoulder to the men. With great care, I negotiated the ledge to the far side, and found that it dropped sharply down to the river. A narrow channel of filthy, clogged water ran into the hillside, terminating in a dark, ominous cavern. The ledge turned to a walkway barely wide enough for one person as it wound into the cave’s mouth alongside the water.

  Eternally vigilant, I brought my shotgun up and slipped the safety off as I made my way down the stairs towards the entrance. I moved with a smooth, practiced step, stealthy yet efficient. When I reached the entrance, I paused to listen, sniffing the air while I waited for my eyes to adjust.

  The only sound was the soft tone of water against wood and concrete, but the scent was much more complicated. I could not only smell the forest and the dirt, but also the faint odour of rusted metal, fuel, and decaying flesh. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could make out the faint outline of something bobbing in the water below us, which eventually resolved itself into a small boat.

  The cave itself was shallow, only just deep enough for the boat, with a slender walkway around the edge. A frayed old rope creaked morosely with the rise and fall of the water, keeping the boat tethered to its mooring. Between the boat and the open river, an old grill gate stood half open, too crusted with rust to go anywhere without significant force.

  “We’re clear,” I called to the men waiting on the walkway above me. I heard their footsteps crunching over the leaf litter, then changing timbre as they descended to join me.

  “Hm. We’re going to need to get that gate open,” Jim pondered, absently rubbing his chin.

  “There’s a lot of debris in the water, too,” I agreed, clicking the safety back on my shotgun. Since Jim couldn’t do much more than stand watch, I handed him the weapon and beckoned for Richard to follow me. Together, we moved to the edge of the walkway and knelt down to inspect the junk floating in the water. It was a tangled mess of branches, old trash, and even a few animal bodies. At least, I really hoped they were animal bodies.

  “See if you can clear some of this while I take a look at the boat, huh?” I glanced towards Richard. He nodded quietly and set our gear down on a ledge near the boat. While he was busy hunting around for something to scoop the trash out of the water with, I turned my attention to the little bucket of rust that I was loathe to call anything remotely resembling a vehicle. Frankly, I was amazed that it was still afloat.

  With great care, I moved around to the side of the dock closest to where it was moored, and lowered myself down to sit on the edge of the concrete. Tentatively, I poked the bottom of the boat with my foot, half expecting it to sink at the lightest touch. To my surprise, it didn’t. In fact, the ‘rust’ came off all over my boot, leaving me a little bit filthy and more than a little confused.

  I poked the boat with a wary finger and came away even dirtier; what had first appeared to be rust was actually a thick layer of slime. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but under the slime, the little aluminium runabout appeared to be quite solid.

  Settling back on my haunches, I considered the evidence I saw and came to the conclusion that the boat must have gotten swamped at some stage in the last decade, probably during a heavy storm or something. With no one to bail it out, the water just sat there until it evaporated, leaving behind a layer of all the crusty things that infested river water during a flood. I judged that it must have happened recently, or perhaps even repeatedly – the gunk was still wet.

  Luckily, we had anticipated a certain degree of filth and come equipped. Jim carried a light backpack full of cleaning rags and a few other small things, which he handed to me without a word. I took it, fished out a grotty old towel, and set about the unpleasant task of de-sliming our boat.

  Needless to say, it wasn’t my favourite task of the year, but at least I wasn’t fishing corpses out of the river like Richard had to. I could hear him gagging while I was wiping away the gunk, but he didn’t curse or complain at all. I had to admit that I was impressed by his stoicism; in his place, I would have been bitching up a storm.

  It took some time to return all of the slime to the water from whence it came, but at last the task was done. I sat back to admire my handiwork. Beneath the slime, the little boat was in surprisingly good condition. It was a small thing, probably only about four metres from bow to stern, with an inboard engine that powered not only the boat’s propulsion, but also a pair of light chain winches.

  I inched towards the aft to examine the winches, and found that while they wouldn’t be strong enough to tear the gates off Fort Knox, they should be more than adequate for what we needed. The chains were rusted, but not so badly that they’d be useless. The steel clasps on the ends screeched faintly with disuse at first, but they still worked.

  “Hey Jim. Can you bring me a screwdriver, mate?” I asked, casting a glance back over my shoulder. “Medium-sized, Phillips head.”

  Jim grunted and went off to do my bidding, while I turned my attention to the housing that protected the motor. It appeared to be watertight, and the last person who’d used the boat had locked that box up tight. The caution of some long-dead mechanic would be our salvation.

  It took a bit of lubricant and a great deal of cursing to convince the screws to let me in, but when I finally lifted the lid I was pleased to find the motor in very good condition. The seal had held for all those years, through all those storms, leaving the important mechanical components no worse for wear than any other boat that had been kept in storage for a decade.

  That is to say, it wasn’t perfect, but it would do for a start.

  ***

  By mid-afternoon, courtesy of some fresh petrol and a new battery, the little boat finally roared to life. Although the noise of the sputtering engine was deafening in the closed space, it felt like the prettiest sound I’d ever heard. Feeling pleased with myself, I reassembled the engine housing and sat myself down in the rear of the boat.

  Richard handed the toolkit down to me, then he helped Jim into the boat as well. The rocking motion as the older man walked over and sat down made me tense up, but he didn’t seem concerned. While Richard untied the slimy rope that held our craft against the docks, Jim took the wheel in his one good hand and looked over the controls.

  Richard had managed to clear away the worst of the debris, and wedged the water-gate open far enough for us to get out. Now, the only thing between us and the freedom of the open river was figuring out how to drive a boat.

  The men seemed to know what they were doing, or were at least good at faking it. They fought for a minute before Jim finally relinquished the wheel to Richard and came to sit opposite me in the aft. He was huffing and grumbling so much I had to fight hard to hide my amusement.

  There was no time to laugh, though. A few moments later, Richard put the boat into whatever passed for ‘in gear’ in a floating craft, and
we leapt away from the dock. I yelped in surprise and grabbed the edge, half-expecting to hit something at high speed and burst into flames.

  Luckily for all of us, he figured out what he was doing before that came to pass. With a little more care this time, he nudged the boat out of the cavern and eased us out into the open river. A pleasant breeze hit us, bringing with it fresh, pleasant scents. It was raining again, just a light drizzle, enough to refresh but not enough to drench.

  The wind caught a few strands of my hair that had escaped from my braid, and sent them dancing around my face as we slowly picked up speed. In spite of my initial caution about the unfamiliar sensation of boat travel, I found myself enjoying it. Like riding on the back of a quad bike, it got my heart pumping and adrenaline flooding through my veins.

  Unfortunately, thinking about the quad bike brought back memories of Tane, and what I’d seen the night before. I stole a furtive glance at Jim and found him staring off into space, oblivious to my concerns. It seemed so cruel. After all the sacrifices he had made to keep the electricity on all these years, he’d been betrayed by his own wife. I had to talk to him, but not now. Later, in private. No need to humiliate him in front of Richard.

  Trying to distract myself before a dark mood could settle in, I watched the trees flash by along the edge of the water, then looked back to admire the ripples we left behind in our wake. It was kind of mind-boggling to think about the fact that it had been ten whole years since any human crafts had troubled the placid waters of the Waikato River. I hoped ours would not be the last.

  The more that I thought about it, the more the idea gestating in the back of my mind made sense. The human species – my species – was on the verge of extinction. The only possible way for us to survive was for someone to intervene in the survivor culture that had sprung up over the last decade.

  Someone needed to take a hand in the future of humanity. God knows we’d done the same for many other species over the years. I thought about the zoos, where scientists had strived so hard to preserve the most vulnerable animals against their inevitable extinction. Now, it was our turn. Someone had to do it, or there was no guarantee that my kind would live to see another generation.

  When I watched Michael with Priya, something stirred inside me that had lain dormant for a very long time. I was shocked to realise that I did want children one day. When the time came, I knew I could rely on him to be a wonderful father, just the way my own dad had been for me.

  Although I had initially rebelled at the idea of having my own offspring, the truth was that perhaps they would help me to fill the hole in my heart that had been so empty since I lost my family a decade ago. But there was a problem. Several problems, in fact. Even if our children were born immune to Ebola-X, there was no guarantee that they’d be safe if we continued to live the way we were.

  If I wanted to have my own child one day, then it was my duty to make sure that the world I brought her into was a place where she could grow up, be educated, and live amongst friends. That meant that something had to change, and it had to change within my lifetime.

  As our little boat rounded a bend in the river and the massive power station came back into view, I came to a decision. I’ve never been the kind of person who relies on others to do things for her. It’s against my nature.

  If I wanted this world to be better, for my children and my children’s children, then I would have to change it myself.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A cheer erupted from the gaggle of survivors on the river bank as the power station roared to life.

  It had taken a week for us to clear the obstruction from the turbines, but at long last we had succeeded. A few hours before, we’d hauled the last of the debris down-river and disposed of it where it would no longer pose a danger to anyone. Now, we stood watching as our victory came together at last.

  For the last week, I had struggled to try and get Jim alone for a moment, but it seemed like there was always someone around to get in the way. Although it was frustrating, my temper had calmed down when my hormones settled back into their normal routine. I had patience again, so I bided my time, waiting for the right opportunity.

  On the day after we had found the boat, a sharp stab of pain in my lower abdomen had advised me that I’d guessed correctly: my emotional outbursts had been a symptom of an impending visit from Aunt Flo. Although the discomfort – both physical and emotional – made it much harder to work up the urge to lug around bits of tree, necessity had driven me to keep on trucking. The worst of it had passed now, and the cramps had subsided to a dull ache.

  Michael had proven himself to be a real keeper during that week, too. Even though I had been in no mood for sex, he’d been so sweet and understanding that it made me want to cry. He was always on hand to administer kind words, back-rubs, and cuddles when I needed them most. Best of all, he knew without me having to say anything that my condition meant I was often unhappy and in pain; he had made it his duty to be a pillar of comfort and sympathy throughout, and that made it so much easier to deal with.

  He was with me now, standing with one arm looped casually around my waist as we watched the power station begin sucking water in through its enormous turbines. Everything seemed to be going fine, but we still observed with avid interest as the station went through its start-up routine. Eventually, it settled into a low, deep thrum that sent vibrations through the ground beneath us and all the way up our legs.

  “Big noise,” Priyanka whispered theatrically, looking nervous as she hovered nearby. I smiled reassuringly at her and reached over to ruffle her hair, which brought a bright smile to her face. After a solid week in our company, the girl had begun to truly blossom into the lovely young lady she was going to become.

  Watching her grow more relaxed and social had been one of the most pleasing experiences I’d felt in a very long time. Although her speech was still a little stunted, she improved every day. She was constantly cheerful and busy; it seemed like she was always rushing about, helping anyone that expressed a need, which was an attitude that quickly endeared her to everyone.

  She was no longer afraid of Hemi and the others. Quite the opposite, in fact. I often caught sight of her following one person or another around, looking fascinated by everything that they did. Despite that, she never seemed to get underfoot. There was just something about her sweet-faced innocence and earnest desire to help in that made even the staunchest of us happy to have her around. Looking down at her young face, all I could think was that she deserved so much more than to live out her life as a solitary survivor.

  “Well, I guess that’s our work here done,” Michael rumbled, holding me close against his side.

  I nodded thoughtfully and glanced up at him. “It’ll be nice to go home. Skye sounded pretty stressed when I spoke to her last night. Maddy’s still freaking out pretty badly.”

  “Agreed. I hope they’re okay.” He sighed softly and reached up to trail a finger around the curve of my neck, tracing the chain that held my ring. It had taken some time for me to get used to the idea of getting married, but once I’d warmed to the idea… well, let’s just say that I had only taken my ring off to bathe. When I looked up at him and saw the flash of silver around his throat, I knew that he felt the same way. On a sudden impulse, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. Surprised, Michael hesitated for a moment before returning my affections.

  Priyanka giggled gleefully, as she often did when we expressed our feelings for one another in front of her.

  “Kissie-kissie,” she teased, but there was no malice in it so I took no offense. Instead, I teased her right back.

  “You just wait, little miss.” I waggled a finger at her. “One day you’ll meet a boy that you fall in love with. Then, you’ll kissie-kissie him, and I’ll laugh at you.”

  “No!” she cried, looking mortified. “Boys, yuck yuck. Boys have bugs.”

  “Boys do not have bugs!” I laughed, surprised and amused by her outburst. “Who told you tha
t?”

  Priyanka looked at Michael with enormous eyes, but said nothing. He stared back at her, looking sheepish. I looked back and forth between them for a moment, then fixed Michael with a pointed stare. It only took a second before he started looking guilty. “I just didn’t want to see anyone taking advantage of her.”

  “So you told her boys have bugs?” I said dryly, fighting the urge to laugh my head off. “That’s some solution, honey. Good thinking.”

  “Hey, give me a break!” Michael put on his best whipped-puppy expression. “I haven’t had to deal with a girl going through puberty before – but I know what I was thinking about at her age.”

  “True.” I sighed heavily, and gave him a long, thoughtful look. “I think we’ve got some time yet, but one of us should probably give her The Talk at some stage.”

  “Hey, don’t look at me,” Michael protested. “When I tried, she ended up thinking that boys have bugs.”

  “Fine, fine, I’ll take care of it.” I snorted mockingly, but I wasn’t angry at him at all. He was right. I had more experience with teenage girls than he did, since I’d been one. Sure, that felt like it had been a lifetime ago, but I still remembered the hot surge of hormones that had driven me towards anything that remotely resembled a male. That gave me a moment’s pause, then I looked back at Michael. “On second thoughts, let’s ask Doc to do it. I’m sure he’ll be able to traumatise her enough that she’ll never want to touch a man, ever.”

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” Michael said with a good-natured laugh.

  “In the meantime – do you see what I see?” I asked, raising my eyebrows pointedly.

  He blinked, then looked around curiously. “That depends. What do you see?”

  “I see Rebecca over there, along with everyone else, so it occurs to me that means Jim must be on his own inside. I should go check on him.” I shot another pointed look at Michael, who smiled grimly and withdrew his arm from around my waist.