They started out into the early morning air, fully equipped and loaded. The ship was waiting, an unimpressive vessel, just a small fishing vessel, but enough for the short voyage to Sydney. Chad hoped, desperately, that he didn’t get seasick. He had never been on a boat before, and until this moment seasickness wasn’t on the list of things he had worried about. The close smell of the area below decks, the mix of salt and old fish, mixed with machine oil, just that smell was enough to almost put him over the edge. He was jammed next to another member of the force, he thought it was Johnny, but it was damned hard to tell them apart in full gear and he didn’t want to turn his head to check the name tag, afraid that would be enough to make him puke.
The boat was moving, swaying just a little underneath him. Every swell, every motion, threatened to make him puke. Wayde was talking, saying something about keeping in close contact with the rest of the team, but Chad just couldn’t absorb it, he was too miserable.
Just as Wayde finished the guy next to Chad whipped off his helmet and puked all over the floor. It was Johnny, an older guy who Chad barely knew. That put Chad over the edge, because of course it did. He didn’t manage to get his helmet off in time and was suddenly looking at a face shield covered in dayglo vomit. The smell set him off even more, and in a moment his stomach was empty, but he was still dry-heaving. The ship finally started moving. Over half the soldiers in her belly had just emptied the contents of their belly in the hold.
The voyage took two agonizing days. Most of that time Chad was too sick to be aware of time. He just lay there, wishing for death. After the initial cast off, they were allowed to go to cabins or above decks. Being above decks was a mercy at first, but as they continued the weather got choppy. Still nice, sunny skies and warm temperatures, but wind and chop on the water. The boat kept making these hopping motions, each time it sent Chad’s stomach to his throat.
Finally, they made it to Sydney harbor. The late afternoon sun was beating down on the blue water, everything was green and alive on the shore, much of the city had fallen back to nature, there were trees everywhere. The ruined buildings were covered with crawling vines, pulling apart now ancient concrete. There was a scar on the landscape, where the scavengers had erected a fence. From their vantage point, they could see where the fence had been pulled down in half a dozen places. Zombies still roamed the ruined city, clumped in both small and large groups.
Never Meet Your Idols
Tamra Duchene was furious. She had just read this week’s script, and once again she got to stay home and support her man. Vivian was supposed to be tough, a woman who stood up to the world, who made sure her voice was heard, at least that was how the part had been billed to Tamra when she was given it. Now here she was, a year and a half later, and all Vivian did was bake and make sure the home was in shape for Jonathan, the brave ship's captain who ferried the scavengers to and from their zombie-infested destinations. She was surprised they hadn’t saddled her with a couple of kids to take care of. They probably hadn’t done it, so she could still parade around in a bikini. The role had no damned meat to it. She was an actress, damnit, and good at her job.
Tamra threw her long blonde hair into a ponytail and threw on some sweats. She was going to have it out with Carter finally. She might be a blonde, but she didn’t have to be relegated to playing one and nothing else for the rest of her damn life. Even here, even in this world with a total of one television channel and only three scripted shows.
She stormed into Carter’s office. He was in a meeting, but she didn’t care… until she realized who the other person was. Naomi Carvery was the last person she expected to see. A genuine hero and one of the leaders of New Hope, one that many people felt was the only true leader in the entire council. That was enough to slow Tamra down a touch. Still, she was one of the top actors in the world, hell, she was one of the only actors able to make a living at it in the world, and in a way, this made it all the more important. Naomi hadn’t made the impact she had on New Hope and the world at large by staying home and supporting her man. She did stuff, changed things.
“Carter, this script is shit. I need something more, Vivian needs something more. She needs to be able to stand on her own two feet, and I am sick of being a fucking Peggy Lee song!”
“Tamra, calm down. We can talk about this later. This meeting is important.”
“Let me talk to her Carter, I think she needs a bit of backstory, a bit of why she’s written that way.” Naomi turned to face Tamra, still sitting.
“Okay, she’s all yours.”
“Thanks, I think we need privacy for this one. Do you mind fetching us a coffee?”
It might have been phrased as a question, but it was clear that Naomi was giving an order. Carter sighed and stood up.
“Thanks, Carter, you’re a good one. I take mine dark and sweet, just like me.” Naomi winked at him.
“Alright, Tamra - coffee?”
“Double double, please. Thanks.”
Carter walked out, casting them a look. He didn’t seem all that happy about being kicked out of his own office.
“Tamra dear, please take a seat.”
She did as she was told.
“Now look, the world has changed. Yes, women need to be seen as strong, but not the way men are. There just aren’t that many people left, and we can have children, they can’t. We don’t need that many of them to get us pregnant, but we need a lot of us. This is virtually the only thing Barbara and I agree on. We need young women to have babies, to make family the priority.”
“That’s… what?” Tamra was having trouble making sense of what she was hearing coming from Naomi.
“Yes, it’s not Carter’s fault. He actually wanted Vivian to become a scavenger herself, Barbara and I talked him out of it. The fact of the matter is that your uterus and vagina are too important a set of resources to risk out there, and we need women to realize that. You do realize this show is pure propaganda, right? It’s there to help shape attitudes. Vivian is brave, she sacrifices herself for the good of her husband and of society.”
“How the fuck can you of all people believe this? We moved so far, things were getting so much better for us, now you are trying to throw us back to nineteen fifties housewife attitudes?”
“No, probably more like Victorian-era attitudes, maybe even Medieval. We don’t know how many people died, but it was north of ninety percent. I don’t want to create laws restricting women, but I also need them to have babies and to raise those babies - it has to be them because we need someone to be out there risking life and limb to get us the resources we need, and it can’t be the women. I’m sorry, I know this sounds regressive to those of us who were born before the zombies, who have memories from back then, but it’s reality.”
Tamra was more than shocked, she was shaken to her core. Naomi didn’t say that sort of thing in public, in fact, she was one of Tamra’s idols. Tamra had been ten years old when the world fell apart and was one of the few who was from Charlottetown when it changed to New Hope she was already there. Other than having hair that was more blonde than red she embodied the island girl image to a T. Pale skin, freckles, petite but fit. A bit of red hair dye and she could have played Anne of Green Gables perfectly.
Tamra thanked Naomi and muttered something about trying to do better at her role, then hurried out, feeling sick. She almost collided with Carter as he walked back in with coffee. She wasn’t crying, no way. Her eyes were just watering a little bit, nothing else. She never did get her coffee.
A Pleasant Jog
Tyson was running again. It seemed like all he ever did was run. He found a place, got to stay for an hour or two, and then he had to move. Once he managed to stay out of sight for a full night, but by morning the zombies had found him. He had no idea how the hell so many zombies had made it here. Sydney was supposed to be low activity. It was an isolated city on the northern edge of Cape Breton Island, and even before the world died the population had been low.
&n
bsp; His main goal was to stay alive, while he did that he kept his eyes open for any sign of his crew. Two days ago, he had found the remnants of a fire, evidence that at least some of them might still be going. He thought it had been a week. He had a cough that was worrisome. He was spending a lot of time in the dank underside of half dead shells of buildings, dealing with a mix of industrial materials and mold. His teeth felt like they had grown moss, and his face was a constant mass of itches. Water was scarce, he was finding pools of rainfall whenever he could, but he wasn’t getting enough. His arms and legs cramped as he ran, a symptom of dehydration. He was so very, very hungry.
He had to make a decision, and soon. It was either stay in the city and try to find the others, maybe have a chance of rescue - something that felt less and less likely each day, or break into the countryside and see if he could lose the zombies there. There was less cover, but a higher chance of getting clean water, maybe even some food. He had earned decent marks in foraging class, and this environment should be similar.
A road out of town was ahead of him. He could see green growing countryside, something even more wild than the vine festooned buildings surrounding him. The pack of zombies was a few minutes behind him. He decided to go for it, try to find a place he could lose them at, then maybe an abandoned country house. He headed along George St. as fast as he could still manage. He wasn’t going that much faster than the zombies at this point, and every step was agony.
The neighborhood had turned to suburban residential, small houses along the road. Nothing he could use yet. The zombies were still too close. He didn’t seem to be picking up more though, now that he was out of town. He tried to pick up the pace, but his legs wouldn’t do it. He settled for the same loping run he had maintained for the last several hours. He had always hated running in school, but nobody got to opt out. If your legs worked you ran at least five kilometers every day while in school, and a lot more on a pretty regular basis. He was thankful for that now.
Finally, he saw a road that had a steep rise in it, somewhere he could lose his escort if he managed to move fast enough, at least with some luck. He took a left and sprinted, finding a last bit of reserve somewhere deep inside him. He was hours past hitting the wall. Over the rise he saw the best possible case, there were several houses - doors and windows missing of course, but lots of potential hiding places, and a road that curved out of sight quickly. He ran for a small house with the door still partially intact, hanging in the gaping doorframe. He vaulted over it and skidded to a stop.
He turned into the first room he could find, anything to make sure he was out of sight of the doorway before the zombies caught up. Then he hunched down, making sure he was out of sight of the empty window frame. He was lying on broken glass, some of it cut his hands, but he didn’t care at that moment. He was spent, all the pain did was bring the world back into sharp focus. He crouched low for hours, not daring to put his head up to see if he was in the clear.
Finally, the daylight started to fade. One thing about being so dehydrated, his bladder wasn’t forcing him to move. Of course, his thirst did that in the end. He cautiously stood out of his crouch. His back was cramped in a dozen places and the hollow pit of his stomach sent stabbing pain through his entire body. He needed water. There was just a little light left, but enough that he could see the road in front of the house. It was empty, he had managed to give the zombies the slip.
Tyson walked to the back of the house, sure enough, there was a well out there. It was overgrown with vegetation and half fallen in, the access way rusted shut, but it was a well. A well meant there was clean water, if he could just get at it. He went back into the house and found a bunch of old rusty tools, in what had been the garage when this place was a house. He set to work trying to get the access way pried off quietly.
Looking Out Over the City
Clyde looked down at the city. Strangers had come, they always came.
His sons had been right to cut the fence, the strangers would learn not to come.
Shorefall
Chad stepped on shore, bow at the ready. There were dozens of zombies in sight, none in effective range yet, but that would change fast. They were closing, shambling in towards them. He fixed one in his sights, signaled to the others that it was his. The rest of the team did the same, and as the zombies got in range arrows flew out towards them. The zombies dropped rapidly. Not every shot hit, but most did. The team was well trained and well disciplined. They picked off the last few almost instantly.
The shore secure, it was time to set up a safe perimeter. Wayde went first, followed by half a dozen men hauling lengths of fence. They were going to use some of the buildings as a wall, with the lengths of fence filling in the gaps. They found a good site in a few minutes, picking of an astonishingly large number of zombies as they worked.
Now that Chad was on land he felt better, still weak and ill, but recovering. The voyage had been one of the most brutal experiences of his life. Apparently, he wasn’t great with ocean travel. He helped set up a fenced corridor between the base camp and the dock, then he helped haul gear up the corridor. The way they laid out their camp meant that somebody could see every section of fence at all times, after all something had caused the one the scavengers were using to fail. Chad was happy he had an early watch. It meant he waited longer until he got to eat, his stomach probably wouldn’t have held food that soon after making landfall anyway. First though, they had to fetch as many arrows as they could.
Chad had only fired two, and he was able to find them fairly quickly. They had his signature tag on them. Both of them were intact, he had more ammo to work with.
Watch was uneventful. He felled five zombies, each one with a single shot. They let them get almost to the fence before dropping them when the numbers were small like this. Finally, his shift was done, and he got to eat. His stomach had settled enough to handle the food, and nothing in his life had ever tasted as good as the bland stew they were eating.
This was likely to be the last cooked meal they had while on mission, so Chad savored every bite. He wanted to bolt it all, but his stomach was still too delicate for that, so instead he sipped it from his spoon slowly. Finally, he finished and retreated to his tent, completely exhausted.
Girl Power and the Zombie Apocalypse
After Tamra got herself together she decided to do something about it. Maybe Naomi was right, maybe they would have a better chance of surviving if women just bowed down and decided that they were a walking baby incubator, but who the fuck decided that the human race should survive if they were going to act like it was still the 1800’s?
She knew people in the salvage operations, a lot of them. There had to be a way she could get to Sydney, prove that women were more than decorations and wombs.
She grabbed her jacket and headed out into the city. New Hope had been a very small city before the zombies, back when it was called Charlottetown. Now it was a bustling metropolis, the largest, most important city in the world. The downtown core had electricity most of the time. The crowds were thick, wall to wall humanity. Tamra headed for the docks, time to call in a few of her contacts. She had her hair tied back, a ponytail, sunglasses, and a ball cap. Without that she couldn’t walk anywhere in New Hope, it was constant requests for autographs, getting stopped every thirty seconds. Sometimes she wished she had never become an actress.
The part of the docks she was heading for was much less populated, a run-down part of town that most of her peers avoided at all costs. She wasn’t afraid though, her family was well enough known down here, and nobody was going to risk crossing her brother.
She got to Billy’s office in the early afternoon. He was in a meeting with one of his people, it looked like a pretty intense meeting. Tamra felt bad for the guy sitting in the hot seat. Billy might be good to her, but he wasn’t a nice guy, not at all. Finally, the door opened, and the young man Billy was talking to came flying out, landing in a heap on the floor.
“Fuck you,
you little shit. I find out you’re shorting me again you are dead, fucking dead! Oh, hey Tamra - just give me a sec, I think I broke a chair.”
“No worries, I don’t mind the couch.”
They went into Billy’s office, light filtering through windows long gone yellow with filth. The place was a relic of the past, a hundred years old at least, and it looked it.
“Hey sis, how’s show business?”
“Fucking bullshit is how it is. They want me to be the good little wifey, stay at home and look pretty while the big strong man saves the world.”
“Fuck ‘em. You don’t need ‘em, you can always come down here and work with me.”
“You know I can’t do that, your guys wouldn’t get any work done, they’d be too busy staring at my ass all day.”
“You make a good point. These guys are fuckin’ animals. What can I do for you?”
“I need to make it over to Sydney. Show those fuckers how tough a woman can be.”
“That’s a pretty fuckin’ stupid idea. Nothin’ over there but zombies and wrecked buildings. What’s getting eaten going to show them?”
“The reclaimers are over there right now, trying to take the place back. They don’t know shit Billy, you know that. They think they’re tough, but they haven’t lived the life we have. They think being soldier boys is going to get shit done.”
“Okay, but what the fuck do I do if you get eaten? Fuckin Tony will kill me.”
“You let me worry about Tony, I’ll make sure he gives his blessing before I head over. The important thing is, can you get me there?”
Resource Economies Page 2