Desolation (Book 1): Aftermath

by Butler, Simon L.

  I found Hank drinking water from a cup while chewing on a piece of kangaroo meat. “Good morning,” he said warmly, skewering another lump of meet with a stick and hanging it just over the fire pit which he had been brought back to life.

  “Good morning Hank! Did you guys sleep okay?” I said before sitting down on the steps to the front porch.

  “Yeah it was a good night, we were up before dawn. But there’s nothing new there,” he explained before responding to my unasked question. “Charlotte and the boys headed back home about an hour ago with the rest of the meat. She’s gonna smoke and dry it so you can take it on your travels as a thank you for a pleasant evening.”

  I shook my head at their kindness, something I never expected. It was truly an unexpected gesture that would help us tremendously, assuming they were true to their word. I had taken a real liking to Hank throughout the evening and this only helped cement that view. He was Old-world in the best possible way, maintaining a strong, stoic outward appearance while also being a man of seemly good character and morals. “Thank you!” I responded appreciatively, adding, “If you guys want, hold onto half of it. I doubt we will be able to carry all of it anyway.”

  Hank made a gesture as if brushing off my suggestion. “Once it’s properly dehydrated, that meat will be light as anything and a fraction of the size, and it’ll last as long as you don’t get it wet. If you can’t carry any more after that, we will talk about a trade.”

  I once again nodded my thanks as Ashe walked out to join us. I had to admit that bed hair suited her. She said nothing before sitting on my lap and embracing me in her arms. “Good morning,” I said, barely above a whisper.

  She just yawned and put her head on my shoulder, kissing my neck as her way of saying good morning. It was apparently her turn for the hangover. She managed to speak in a slightly husky voice, “Good morning Hank,” she said warmly, looked up from my shoulder to see the man preparing another piece of meat for the fire.

  “Good morning sweetheart, I trust you slept well?”

  She replied with a nod and a warm smile, resting her head. Hank poured us both some water into two cups before sitting them next to us. “I’ll filter more later,” Ashe said gratefully, unmoving from her embrace.

  I smiled and pulled her close. “I’ll give you a hand with it, don’t worry too much right now.”

  Hank handed me the first piece of meat moments later. It was still on the stick he had fashioned into a skewer and slightly charred on the outside. But when I bit into it, the meat was tender and moist – perfectly cooked all the way through. Hank turned to Ashe and asked, “I’m guessing you never cooked kangaroo before?”

  She smiled shyly. “No, why?”

  He laughed. “It’s okay, a lot of people make the mistake of treating it like any other meat, but the truth is you either need to cut is small and cook it fast, or seel the outside quick and cook it slowly.” He explained, “If you cook it too slow when it's small, the meat tenses up and squeezes out of the juices, and when you cook a larger piece too quick without seeling it, the same thing happens, and you lose all the juices that make it taste so damn good.” He pulled out the second skewer and handed it to her, explaining, “Sear the outside to seal all the moisture in then slow cook it right the way through!”

  I had to admit, the meat was much less chewy this way, and Ashe readily agreed when I handed her some of the meat I was eating. “Fuck that’s good!” she said warmly, adding “Thank you Hank.”

  Breakfast was mostly quiet, helped by the fact that both Hank and I were quiet by nature even if Ashe, given half a chance, seemed capable of talking someone’s ear off as I had seen the night before. The hangover seemed to have subdued her slightly extroverted nature.

  Once breakfast was finished and settled, Hank said, “Why don’t you both come up to the settlement for the day? You can see how Charlotte smokes the meat and come meet some good folks.”

  I was still a little reluctant. I had been alone for a long time for good reason, and a part of that was my lake of trust in others. Still smoking meet would be a good skill to master, especially for desert travel where food is a lot scarcer. I decided we should come clean with Hank that there was a large bounty on my head, just in case there was any reason to worry, especially knowing that the settlement likely traded with the north from time to time. “Sure, I don’t mind!” I spoke calmly. “But you should know that there is a bounty out on my head from the north. Is there any reason for concern there?”

  Hank thought for a moment. “What’s the bounty for?”

  I shrugged and explained the story of our recent exit from New Alice, including my encounter with the group of slavers in the bar and again in the small ruined town, recounting as honestly as I could remember the details. “Anyway, we got tailed out of the main settlement and they had me cornered while I was out scavenging. Two unlucky kids got in my way as I was running away and got killed. So, this damn slaver has been on our trail ever since, claiming I killed Bishop’s son.”

  He nodded in response. “Sound’s reasonable, you did what you had to.” He thought for a moment, then added, “I doubt it will be a problem! But I think if you stick to our farm, you should be fine. My family and I are based a few kilometres from the main settlement, it should be fine. Most folks around here are anything but friendly towards slavers, anyway. Especially having sons and daughters of their own.”

  Ashe laughed, adding with a firm expression, “If anyone touches either of us, they’ll have to answer to Miss thirty-odd-six!” And there was that spark that I found so exciting in her. The fire that had first caught my attention back in New Alice.

  “Fair enough,” Hank answered with a wry smile, adding “Sweetheart, you remind me of my daughter, she was one tough young woman.” His smile faded as a procession of memories flashed across his eyes.

  Ashe noticed his change of expression and asked, “What happened to her?”

  It was almost a shock to see a tear fall from the normally stoic man’s eye as he spoke calmly. “She was our oldest, born a few years before all this. She was beautiful, you remind me a lot of her!” He said to Ashe, “We were closer to the city back then in a small town on the coast, the camp we were held up in got raided first by some motherfuckers searching for women, then by zombies that heard all their damn noise. Those motherfuckers took my daughter, and the zombies got my brother and his family.”

  Ashe moved over to hug the man who forced a smile and nodded his thanks. It was a story that put things in perspective for me in many ways, a lot of people had stories to tell in this world. While Ashe sat talking with the man, I filled the condensation traps Ashe had set up the day before to filter some more water, then checked our food stocks putting aside a couple of old tins of beans to have for dinner with some of the dried meat. After I was satisfied that the house was secure, I went back out to join Ashe and Hank, who were still engaged in conversation. Or rather, Ashe was engaged in conversation, with Hank hanging off her every word.

  A short time later, the three of us were heading north to the old dirt road in the direction of the mountains. Following the decaying path on foot while Hank walked his horse alongside us. The conversation was sparse as the three of us were on high alert.

  “We don’t get too many zombies in these parts,” Hank explained. “But storms will sometimes drive them away from the ruins. I still can’t believe those things are terrified of a little lightning and thunder!” He laughed to himself.

  “Has anyone ever tried to understand why?” Ashe asked, her tone curious more than fearful.

  “You know what, I don’t think there has ever been a serious attempt to study those things. At least not that I’m aware of.” Hank said, before redirecting the question to me.

  I thought for a moment, trying to remember anything I had come across over the years that even mentioned zombies in a non-fictional context. There simply wasn’t much out there. “I’ve never read anything beyond a few Old-world articles and essay
s from around the time of the collapse. People were so concerned with finding a ‘cure’ they didn’t even take the time to try and understand them. The Old-world looked at them like diseased humans which is easy to understand why, fresh zombies look very human except for the eyes. But the Old-world science labs simply did not last long enough to see the zombies completely turn. But the reality is no one truly knows, most of what is known is based on observation and experience.”

  In any case, we were unlikely to encounter zombies this far from the city unless a herd happened upon us. It was possible given the constant flow of storms this time of year moving north from the ocean, but extremely unlikely. Given how flat the terrain was between the coast and the mountains, we were likely to see something like that from a long way away.

  It took less than two hours to reach the farmhouse on foot, and it was little wonder Hank had heard the gunshot the day before. Their front gate was directly north of the creek I had shot the kangaroo the day before. Ashe was still on alert as we approached the restored house, holding her rifle up to her shoulder as we walked.

  The house had been heavily restored and was well maintained. It certainly resembled its former glory; it was a beautiful two-story mudbrick home that resembled the one Ashe, and I had found. Its large raised porch surrounding the entire house offered an excellent defensive position, and the guard rails of the house had been reinforced with two layers of wood. The property was not massive, offering them enough room to farm and work the land for themselves while being a relatively defensible location. It was surrounded by a thick wire fence that would have been easy enough for most people to climb despite the razor wire that lined the top of the fence, but it gave them a layer of security against the zombies and reminded me of my childhood home so many years ago. My parents had used wire fences for dealing with zombies, but when it came to people, it was much more difficult.

  One of the boys appeared to be on guard duty on a makeshift tower near the front gate. I still hadn’t learned their names separately and simply waved to greet the boy – unsure if it was Tommy or Dan. He returned the wave as he held a rifle up to his shoulder as if demonstrating to Hank he was on alert and not just slacking off. Or perhaps trying to show Ashe and I that he was ready for trouble, both were possible though Hank struck me as a man driven by a strong work ethic.

  Once we were inside the gate, Ashe went to find Charlotte inside the house while I helped Hank in the yard, assisting with a few chores, picking some fresh ripe tomatoes and carrots, before digging up some large potatoes from a raised garden bed. “I’ll bag a few up for you both to take, you might as well eat properly while you’re here,” he offered as thanks for me helping him.

  “I appreciate it!” I said warmly enjoying the fact that I did not need to be social around Hank. He relished the quiet and appreciated the company more than anything. We worked well into the afternoon, farming crops and filtering water. The conversation was light, with both of us focused on our work, but he told me stories throughout the day about the old world and how this whole region was dying before the outbreak. Apparently, Hank had only been able to grow crops here in the last few years, which only offered confirmation that the zombies would soon be able to access the interior of the country if the climate continued its current trajectory. The afternoon passed smoothly, and I very much enjoyed the mundane work that Hank’s farm offered; it kept my mind quiet for a change allowing me to just be in the moment.

  “’Idol hands’, Jack!” Hank explained as we stopped for water late in the afternoon. I looked at him confused and awaited an explanation. He smiled and explained, “There is an old saying, and I think it’s as true now as it has ever been: ‘The devil makes work for idle hands to do’. I don’t mean it literally of course, but there is a certain truth to it. Hard work calms the mind and brings focus, it’s an important lesson for life.”

  It made sense, especially after the day’s work we had enjoyed. I didn’t reply to the comment, but there was a certain logic to it.

  Charlotte soon called everyone for dinner, bringing an end to the day’s work. Hank and I had been working a pair of garden-hoes, turning the soil where they had recently harvested crops. He was explaining soil chemistry, crop rotation and farming techniques, all of which was information that could be useful in the future though I had to admit it was all information I had read in science books over the years. Still, I think it was good to hear it again, so I didn’t stop him. I think he enjoyed passing on his knowledge, and that I think meant more to him than the actual work.

  Ashe smiled warmly when I walked inside. She wrapped me in a warm embrace as if we were an old couple before sitting next to each other around an old dining table that Hank had made a few years earlier. Once again, it was a pleasant afternoon, though Ashe was still a little uneasy, it wasn’t helped by the ogling the older of the two boys who seemed to have taken a liking to her. Yesterday he seemed to hide it, but today not so much. Ashe said nothing, but it certainly made her a little uncomfortable, so she made a point of being close to me at every opportunity to send a message.

  As the evening settled in, Hank, Charlotte, Ashe and I migrated out onto the front porch. Hank brought with him a bottle of what looked like whiskey, pouring us both a glass. “It’s harsh, but it’ll put hair on your chest!”

  I received the glass and cheers the older man. “Hey, where’s mine!” Ashe protested.

  “I’m not sure you’ll like this one, sweetheart,” Hank said honestly. “But sure.” He poured her a very small glass so as not to waste it if she did not want it.

  She cheers us both before gulping down the contents of the glass. It wasn’t long before the coughing and spluttering started. “Oh my god Hank! Thanks, but no thanks on the next one.” She was on her feet, spitting over the side of the porch to get the taste out of her mouth.

  Hank chuckled before Charlotte got up and went inside, returning moments later, handing Ashe a bottle filled with a light brown fizzy liquid. “Try this one instead, honey, it’s cider!”

  Hank and I gently clung out glasses together before throwing the contents of the glass into the back of our throats. “Holy shit!” I said through the burn in my mouth.

  Hank’s face barely changed when he swallowed the liquid. He just poured another for us both. “The trick is not to smell it before you drink it!” He explained before downing another glass.

  It was another pleasant evening of good company. Ashe and I ended up staying for the night, both of us passing out on the front porch of the farmhouse. I was drunk once again, and when Ashe found me leaning up against the wall on the porch, she simply wrapped me in a blanket and cuddled close for the evening. I just sat starring out over the plains, enjoying the contact and the warmth of Ashe’s body.

  Chapter 7 – (Rest and Revitalise)

  The following morning was a relaxing one, a rare occurrence and one I could easily get used to. Ashe and I slept on the front porch of Hank’s family home, enjoying an evening where my anxieties and paranoia did not rear up at any point. But it was something to rectify, even if I was developing a degree of trust for Hank and his family I could not and would not let me guard down. I also found myself making another excuse for sleeping with my weapon with Ashe around. My focus less on her and what she might do and more about others and how they might hurt her.

  “Good Morning,” Hank said calmly from a chair just a few meters away. He was drinking a cup of hot coffee as they gradually made its way over the horizon.

  “Good morning, Hank,” I said with a yawn, my stretching enough to stir Ashe.

  She quickly took a moment to check herself, then sighed with relief adding, “Thank fuck that seems to be over for now!” She then stretched loudly before cuddling back into my side, as if preparing to sleep more.

  Her smile was infectious as she leant up and kissed me on the lips. “We should head back this morning and check on the water, we probably need to filter more anyway!”

  “As you command,” I teased
. But she was right, we needed to begin considering our next move.

  I started to get up just as Charlotte came out with two warm cups of coffee and a warm smile. “Before you two leave, you should have some breakfast. There’s no need to rush.”

  I climbed to my feet slowly before taking the coffee and sipping it. Ashe scrunched her face at the taste, then asked: “What is this?”

  I had to admit it had been a few years since I tasted coffee myself, but the smell was distinctive. “It’s coffee,” I said, adding curiously, “You really never had coffee?”

  She made a face as if thinking it over, then said, “No, I’m pretty sure I would know if I had!”

  That got a laugh from Hank and Charlotte, who were now seated side by side on the chair quietly enjoying each other’s company. “So, where did you guys get coffee from anyway?” I asked Hank curiously, knowing just how rare it was in New Alice.

  Hank smiled warmly, then answered, “There are a few settlements to the east that grow it. It’s expensive, but then I wouldn’t be functional without it, so it’s worth the price.”

  The idea of well-established settlements to the east was an interesting thought. I wondered exactly where, remembering several small makeshift settlements in the mountains I had come across years earlier. But well established in regions that could grow coffee was something I had never come across. “Any idea where those settlements are based?”

  Hank nodded, explaining, “There are two we trade with regularly, but apparently there are a few others around as well. One is near the ruins of Canberra, based about a day’s walk south of the old city, and the other we trade with is further south, somewhere in the south-east of the continent on the coast.”

  The location sparked my interest. It was a large area of foothills and low-lying mountains. Prime agricultural land, so it made sense since they would grow almost anything there. But none of that is what got my attention, rather it was the proximity of the location to where my parents were from. I had wanted to come this far south many years earlier, but the path was often blocked by large herds of zombies migrating with the seasons.