by Alice Sabo
“Can the Barberry Cove people just go home?” Joshua asked.
“The houses are probably fine, but they were depending for food on whoever was receiving the wood deliveries,” Angus said. “That source is gone now. We can add them in as trading partners, but lumber isn’t a necessity for us right now.”
“We have to plan to feed everyone,” Tilly said firmly. “If we go ahead with that in mind and then some people turn out to be able to take care of themselves, that’ll make things a little easier.”
“But can we feed everybody?” Joshua asked.
Tilly felt as if the whole room was staring at her. “I don’t know. We need a head count. We need to find out who can do what, and how many we can send on.”
“We need to vet this bunch as quick as possible,” Martin said.
“I’m ready,” Wisp said.
Tilly wanted to hug him. He looked as tired as she felt. And she knew the crush of people was hard on him. He met her eyes with a small smile that told Tilly he knew she was thinking of him. “I’m okay,” he whispered for her ears only.
“We’d better start with the folks in the storm shelter,” Angus said. “They are in the best shape and can be put to work right away.”
“How do you want people sorted?” Lance asked. He had a notebook of the thick handmade paper the children were producing.
Martin raised his hand wearily. “I’ll take anyone willing and able.”
Angus consulted his lists. “Lottie wants four more people. I promised Trey we’d sent five more strong backs over to Holly Hill.”
“Creamery needs at least ten more,” Martin added.
“That’s nineteen. We’ve got what, probably three hundred people out there?” Lance snapped. “Where am I supposed to put them?”
Chapter 14
Refugees arrived at our settlement so worn down with fear and hunger that they could not accept our kindness without deep distrust. We were forced to create an onerous process to bring them into the community. Each step of the way, they were able to shed some of their doubts and wariness.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
NICK SAT AT A TABLE that someone had set up in the foyer to the storm shelters. After a hot shower, solid meal and a safe night’s sleep, it was time to find out who these people were. The refugees would be brought in one by one to be questioned. Wisp sat next to him at the table, colored squares of paper stacked to one side.
A member of the Greeting committee escorted the first man over and sat him in a chair in front of the table.
“Name?” Nick asked.
“Who the hell are you?” the man snapped.
Wisp pushed a small square of orange paper to the front.
Nick sighed as he checked the legend for the colors. Orange meant fear. “I’m Nick, this is Wisp. Sorry about all this. We’re doing the best we can.” He saw the immediate change in the man’s demeanor.
“Um, I’m John. What’s this all about?”
Nick wanted to sigh again. “We’re trying to sort out who needs help, who can help, and anybody that wants to move on. We’ve got jobs for folks to earn food...” he changed his tack when Wisp pushed the orange square forward again. “And food for folks who can’t work. What kind of stuff could you do?”
“I dunno.”
“What did you do before?” Nick asked. He didn’t need to say before what.
“I was an accountant,” John said sadly.
“Perfect,” Nick said pulling out his list of wants. “We’re going to need a bit more to the name. We’ve already got six Johns at the settlement. I hear a little accent there...”
“Alabama,” he admitted.
“You okay with Southern John?”
He nodded. Nick wrote out a pass to go to Angus’s office. He had specifically asked for number crunchers. A group of kids was sitting on the floor playing some sort of made-up card game while waiting to be helpful. Nick waved one over. He handed the pass to the young boy. “Take him up to see Angus please.”
Southern John looked baffled as the boy led him away. A thin woman was escorted in next. She sat in the chair but kept her gaze on the floor.
Having learned his lesson, Nick tried to be a bit more friendly. “Hi, I’m Nick, what’s your name?”
She didn’t answer. Wisp placed the orange square next to a black one. That wasn’t good. Black meant crazy. He glanced over to see if Wisp had any suggestions, but only got a shrug.
“You’re safe here,” Nick said softly.
She flinched as if he’d yelled the words. “Safe?” Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked around as if just now realizing where she was.
Wisp slid the black card back and pushed the orange card forward, less crazy, but more afraid.
“What’s your name?”
“Do people still have names?” she asked in a whispery, hoarse voice.
“Yes. Everyone here has a name.”
“Elaine.”
Nick wrote her name on a ticket. “What did you do before?”
A harsh noise turned out to be a sort of laugh. “Before?” She shook her head, then covered her face. “I was in a symphony. Second flute.”
“All right. Elsa will want to talk to you.” Nick added the information to the ticket and beckoned to a child. Elsa and Dieter needed more teachers now that there were a lot more children. They had a want list of people in all fields. Elaine looked even more confused than John had when the child led her away.
The next woman was a weaver. Nick sent her to Claude, to see if she could help out in the Wardrobe. Three men in a row had been sales clerks. Nick sent one to Martin and marked one for Creamery. The third man said his hobby had been fishing so Nick sent him to the Foragers.
The next person bustled over to the table with outstretched hand. “I’m Alan, Micah’s dad. I can’t thank you enough for taking the kids in.”
“Nick,” he said, shaking hands. “Please take a seat.”
Alan looked at Wisp, hand poised but not offered. “You’re the Finder.”
“This is Wisp,” Nick said. “He doesn’t like to be touched.”
Alan withdrew his hand with a nod, seemingly nonjudgmental. He glanced around. “Things have changed.”
“Yes.”
“Barberry Cove is in your debt. I can’t believe you got to Glenn in time. A shot to the stomach like that. We all thought he was dead.” Alan shook his head, emotion brightening his eyes. “And you’ve obviously taken good care of our children. What can we do?”
“Do you speak for everyone?” Nick asked.
“I do.”
“You’ll need to sit down with Angus. The short story is that groups are laying claim to territory. We’ve got a militia on one side and a gang of raiders on another. Angus thought it would be best to be proactive. Claim our own territory, so we can continue to live our lives as we wish.”
“You’re looking for soldiers?” Alan asked. His eyes were wary.
“Asking,” Nick emphasized. “But we also need bakers and farmers and people to wash dishes.”
“But not a saw mill,” Alan said. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “I need to talk to my people. We won’t want to be spread around.”
“Do you want to go back up to Barberry Cove?”
Alan twitched a shoulder in a shrug. “Bad memories up there.”
Wisp placed a green card on the table. Green for good. Nick beckoned to the children, but Micah came over. Nick handed him the ticket. “Take him up to Angus.”
Micah smiled. “Told ya.”
Nick stretched his back as the next person was brought over. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter 15
Barter only works if the parties involved want each other’s products. When food becomes the key to survival, other systems must come into play.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
WISP TOOK HIS LUNCH outside. Tilly had been waiting in the back hallway with one of the new lun
ch pails. He appreciated her understanding. After a long morning surrounded by people, he needed to spend some time alone. The storm had blown out mid-morning as expected, but long streamers of cloud still stretched across the sky. He walked up the road towards Barberry Cove heading into a warm, brisk wind. There was an outcrop of stone up a small embankment that had a good view. He’d brought a tarp to sit on and a warm sweater in case the clouds thickened.
When he opened the lunch pail, he was sure Tilly had given him more than his share. Venison stew, with potatoes, new carrots and greens, was tucked into a cone of flatbread. The food was still warm. He ate it gratefully. The little pails were being made by the same people making the new currency. Not all the lids fit properly and each one had a slightly different design. Billy, the head of the machine shop, was teaching kids to make them as a training project. Eventually every member of the Sentinels, Rovers and Watch would need a kit with a plate, bowl, cup, fork, knife and spoon. If Bruno couldn’t find them on his rummaging forays, they would have to be made.
Wisp inspected his pail. It was well made. It was good that Angus asked everyone to take on apprentices. At some point in time, they would no longer be able to forage for goods. Either things would be destroyed by time and weather, or they would exhaust the sources within their territory.
The wind pushed his hair over his shoulder, but the sun peeked out to warm him. He licked gravy off his fingers. Eunice was an excellent cook. Tucked into the bottom of the pail, wrapped in a napkin was a fruit muffin with a sweet cheese center. Mary was experimenting with incorporating some of Creamery’s soft cheese into her baking. She made small batches that were tested by a chosen few. Wisp felt honored. There was a hint of cinnamon and a taste like molasses that he assumed must be the sorghum they’d gotten from Holly Hill. It was delicious, and he would have liked a couple more.
A hawk called. His shadow slid over the rocky ground. Wisp felt the furtive burrowing of his prey. No lunch for him today. The emptiness around him was a balm to aching mental muscles. To live with Angus’s people, Wisp had been forced to learn new skills. Shutting down his senses, or narrowing them tightly enough that he could focus on just one person took a lot of energy. He opened himself to the small lives in the wild, relaxing into the lack of emotion. The arrival of the refugees had felt like being downstream of a dam-break. The maelstrom of emotions had swirled around him, thicker and thicker until he’d nearly drowned. It had taken all of his skills to block it out.
He reached out, feeling the packed emotions of High Meadow uncomfortably close. He blocked that direction turning the other way. A big group of people was at the train station. Much larger than normal, and none of them felt familiar. Angus would want him to check them out. He stretched a little, trying to pick up a sense of the group.
Pain speared through him, so sharp it took his breath away. It wasn’t his pain, he knew that, but it was so severe he couldn’t think. He curled forward, dizzy, breathless, burning in agony. The edges of his vision started going all gray. The pain burst through brighter and hotter until the darkness took over.
Chapter 16
How do we proceed without relying on our experience? For those of us who were adults in the world before Zero Year, we must put aside all that we achieved because it will only fail in the new world.
History of a Changed World, Angus T. Moss
“NICK! NICK! NICK!” Lily called to him as she skipped through the crowded hallway.
He stepped out of the flow of traffic for her to catch up. “What’s up, Lily?”
“Angus says come quick!”
“Thanks,” Nick said as she skipped past him. It couldn’t be too urgent. He’d just left Angus in the cafeteria. He reversed direction and headed back to where he’d last seen him. The cafeteria was chaos. A handful of people were using the new coins, and that had panicked the newcomers. There were groups of them chattering away at the food line. Clusters of people roamed, buzzing from table to table reconnecting with travel companions.
Nick stood in the doorway to scan the room. The noise level had increased to the point where it felt painful. Above the din of voices, he heard pots clanging in the kitchen and the squeals of kids racing between the tables. There was no sign of Angus. He squeezed back out the doorway and wove through the groups of people in the corridor. It was a relief to finally get to Angus’s office and get out of the crush.
“Ah Nicky,” Angus greeted him with a raised hand, but his eyes were on his papers. For once, he was sitting at his desk. “I knew Lily would find you.”
“What happened?”
“The soap people are here.”
“The who?”
“They requested you. About two dozen people and some animals came in on the last train. Martin’s people stopped them, and they said you knew them.”
Nick took a seat in front of the desk. “That must be the settlement from up the North Branch. They’re one of the groups I said might be joining us. They make soap and some pottery. They were outside our borders. When I told them about the Alliance, they said they’d consider moving.”
“You’d better go down and talk to them.”
Nick hoisted himself out of the chair. “Have you seen Wisp?”
“Tilly gave him a lunch and said he was headed outside.”
Nick glanced at the big clock on the wall. “That was two hours ago.”
“Ask Martin. Maybe he conscripted him for some mission.” Angus held up his radio. “Can I tell them you’re on the way?”
“Is is going to stay like this?” Nick asked with a head bob towards the bustling hallway.
Angus slumped back into his chair. “I hope not. I hope we can get people settled soon. We need to have everyone housed and preferably producing food before the weather turns.”
Nick took a deep breath and gave Angus a salute. “Tell them I’m on my way.”
AFTER THE TRIP TO THE train station, a long discussion with the Soapmakers and a trip back to consult with Angus and the committees, Nick was daydreaming about cell phones. He sat down in the discussion circle with a handful of notes. Once again not all of the committees were represented at this impromptu meeting. This time Bruno, Kyle and Lottie had joined Martin, Tilly and Claude. Angus interrupted a conversation on herbs to ask Nick to report on his talks with the soap people.
“They are going to need grazing area for their sheep, at least one field for their plants, a workshop for the soap makers and a kiln for the potters.”
“The kiln might have to wait,” Angus said. “What are they growing?”
“They brought a couple of crates of special bricks for building the kiln. Just need a place to set it up. They were pretty adamant about it.” Nick looked back at his notes. “They are growing...oilseed plants.”
“Are they edible?” Tilly asked.
“I don’t know,” Nick grumbled. “They use them for the soap.”
“If they have edible oils, we could use them in the kitchen,” Tilly said pointedly.
Nick knew she was going to start off on a tangent, and he didn’t want to let her take over the discussion. But Bruno beat him to it.
“They might like the college grounds,” Bruno suggested.
“College?” Angus perked up immediately.
“Is there a science building?” Kyle asked.
Bruno shrugged beefy shoulders. “It’s a college. Road looks like it’s been maintained, so we didn’t go in.”
Angus shifted all the papers off his lap before going over to the live wall where he called up the map in progress. “Where is it?”
Bruno squinted at the image. Angus enlarged it. Bruno traced a thick finger along a road to an area that was painted in as woods. “Somewhere along here. Maybe an hour southwest of here.”
“Between us and Creamery,” Angus said slowly as he tapped the map.
“If there’s a dorm, that would work for our barracks,” Martin said. “Good central location, and they probably have kitchen facilities.”
/> “Lots of ifs,” Nick said, trying to bring the discussion back on track. “The soapmakers are worried about how much we’re going to want from them for protection. They came down because there was an incident and two of their women were attacked.”
“Where are they now?” Tilly asked. “Do they need a doctor?”
“I sent them over to the old playground behind the firehouse.” He pointed, and Angus reoriented the map to the area around the train station. The playground was a green smear in a neighborhood only half-delineated. “They said no to a doctor, I already offered, Tilly. They’ve got about a dozen sheep that were not very happy about the train and wanted to get them settled right off.”
“We need to get them under cover for the night,” Tilly said, writing in her ever-present notebook. “Do we have anything down that way that’s suitable?”
“Sheep?” Claude asked. “Are they shearing them?”
Nick shrugged. “I didn’t ask. But I think I remember them saying something about lanolin for lotions. We could ask them to stay in the shelter cubbies at the station while we find a place for them.”
“You did tell them that we don’t charge for protection,” Angus said firmly.
“Yes we do,” Tilly spoke over him. “They can pay us with soaps and lotions just like Creamery pays in cheese, and Holly Hill pays in grain.”
Angus tipped his head in partial concession. “Did they bring any trade items with them?”
Nick consulted his notes. “They said they don’t want to give up any sheep for slaughter because they’re too valuable for the wool.” He glanced over to Claude, hoping that answered his previous question. “But they’ve got their latest batches of soap and a crate full of pottery.”
Lottie pointedly examined her chapped hands. “I’d really like to try some of their lanolin. I think most of the Growers Committee could use some.”
Angus held up a hand, his blue eyes out of focus. Nick sat back to wait. He knew that Angus was sorting it all out in his head. “Martin, please send a contact team to the college. Once we find out what’s going on there, we will know our options. Claude, please talk to the soapmakers about their wool. I think we’d all like warm clothes for this winter. Nick, let them know that we will be happy to feed them at the train station until we sort out a placement for them. And let them know about the college possibility.”