Survivors of the Sun Read online

  ‘I don’t think you have the wrong shrubs,’ Georgia said as she reached her. ‘In fact, I would have been very surprised if it had still been here.’

  ‘You think someone took it? But, why would someone do that?’

  Georgia did not reply, instead she put her arm through Lola’s and they walked back to the children. Even though there was apparently no one around, she could again sense the eyes watching their every move from the shadows and behind lace curtains. Any one of the hidden watchers could have run out and taken it.

  Finally she said, ‘it’s okay, Lola, we will manage. The bike would have made us a target anyway, and as for the food, we have enough for a couple of days, and that means we have a couple of days to find more.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lola asked as they reached the children. ‘I don’t want to be a burden…,’ her voice was very matter of a fact, but her eyes had the look of a four week old puppy about to be abandoned by the side of the road.

  ‘Of course I am sure,’ Georgia said, ‘it will be nice to have the company, and besides we still have half of that pecan pie left.’

  ‘Well if…,’

  Georgia interrupted her, ‘look, I think its best we just get going, the sooner we get out of here the better.’

  Georgia took Ant from Rebecca’s care and as they walked, she explained to Lola where they were going, and their decision to walk to Bethel. Lola nodded from time to time, and Georgia had the impression that she could have told Lola they were going to swim to Outer Mongolia, and she would have nodded in just the same way.

  She clearly didn’t want to be alone, and for all her bravado, she had to be somewhat traumatized. Georgia could not even begin to imagine how desperately alone Lola must have been feeling, at least she had been with the children and the dogs. It had been very different for Lola.

  Her words at the door earlier this morning, when she had given them some food, had given Georgia an insight into that desperation. She had been trading the only commodity she had, and as Georgia reflected on that, she became even more disgusted with the children’s grandfather. What a total bastard.

  After about fifteen minutes, they came to several large old buildings that looked like warehouses, not the railway station she had been imagining. She came to an abrupt halt. ‘Hang on, I need to check the map.’

  She unzipped Rebecca’s backpack and pulled it out. ‘I was planning the route earlier today,’ she explained to Lola as she examined the map. ‘Okay, we are here. For some reason I thought this mark represented a railway station, not sure why. Anyway, to start with, we should just follow the tracks.

  As she spoke, she traced her finger along the line. ‘That will lead us in a southeasterly direction. If we manage to get down to here, tonight,’ she paused, tapping her finger on the map, ‘then tomorrow we can just cut across country, heading in a more easterly direction.’

  ‘So how long do you think, till we get to your place?’ Lola asked, her head still bent over the map.

  ‘Months,’ Deedee replied, in a very serious voice, ‘and who knows, it might even take a whole year.’

  Rebecca and Jamie burst out laughing, and Georgia was not entirely sure if it was because of Deedee’s comment, or the comical expression on Lola’s face. Lola’s eyes had gone perfectly round and her neatly plucked eyebrows had disappeared under her bangs.

  ‘Not that long I hope,’ Georgia laughed. ‘But still long enough, maybe six or seven weeks. Wouldn’t want it to take much longer, would hate to be travelling across country in fall, or winter.’

  She tucked the map book away, zipped up Rebecca’s bag, and then together they headed down a small alley between the buildings. Badger and Millie ran a little ahead, darting back and forth as they enthusiastically sniffed among the weeds and scattered litter. In the distance, they spotted the railway track and a few moments later they were following it through the outskirts of town, the style of homes ranging from raised ranch style houses, austere colonial revival red brick buildings and the good old classic American bungalow.

  She imagined that normally there would be families sitting outside, trying to keep cool, ice cubes clinking in glasses of freshly made lemonade, as they enjoyed the familiar, neighborly ambiance of the late afternoon. However, they were not doing this today; the porch swings sat empty, blinds drawn.

  At first glance, this part of town gave her an overall impression of neglect, but in reality the houses themselves, were neat and well maintained. The slightly too long parched lawns and dying flowerbeds were what gave that false impression. The lack of rain and the heat was beginning to show its effects, and heavy smoke hung in the air, giving everything a drab grayish tinge. If only there was a breeze to blow it away, to clear the air and take away that smell, the pervasive reminder that all as not as it should be.

  From time to time, they would glimpse someone, but always in the distance, and there was a sense that these people, did not want to be seen. There was a fearful, furtive air about them, like mice scurrying across the kitchen floor, hoping the family cat was asleep.

  Georgia felt very wary, tensely aware that it was impossible, out in the open as they were, to travel undetected. She felt very conscious that their little party consisted of only two women and the children.

  She held the shotgun in her hands, so that it could be seen, hopefully making them appear less vulnerable than they really were. She was ready to use it and although she had the safety on, she had practiced slipping it on and off until she felt confident she could do it easily, in a panic situation.

  She wondered momentarily if perhaps she had made a mistake. It would be so much safer travelling with a man. Perhaps she should have asked if they could accompany Jack, and gone to New Mexico with him. But then hindsight is a wonderful gift. She hadn’t known then, that Nathan wouldn’t be coming back, nor that they would they have to flee for their lives.

  The scenery gradually changed. The many homes now left far behind them. The level landscape stretching to the horizon was a patchwork of wide-open spaces, cultivated fields, and the occasional barn or small building. From time to time, they passed a railway crossing, and here, the roads were overhung by rows of oak trees, looking shady and welcoming, the leaves a soft green, the lack of rain not affecting them yet.

  Weeds were beginning to make an appearance alongside the sleepers, no trains to keep the way clear. Oddly, Georgia found the emergence of these fragile signs of new life comforting. Her unvoiced fear had been that perhaps what had caused everything to stop working, had somehow contaminated the air; that the plants were dying, not because of the lack of rain and the unbearable heat, but because of something more sinister. However, here was evidence that plant life at least had not been affected.

  At first, the children had played. Balancing on the metal rails, which were already beginning to show a powdery film of rust, as they chattered away to each other. But they soon tired of that and dragged their feet. Lola had not spoken very much, and as much as Georgia would have like to have known more about her, where she came from, what her story was, she did not push her to talk.

  At one point they passed a house not too far from the tracks. As they walked by, Lola noticed clothes hanging on a line, round the side of the dwelling. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘they look like they have been hanging there a long time, and I am pretty sure that dress would fit me.’

  Georgia did not feel at all comfortable about this, but Lola insisted, darting round to the washing line, and unpegging the dress. Several garments lay scattered on the ground, a t-shirt, was wrapped round the line, torn where it had caught on a frayed wire. They all looked a little faded. Lola was right, this washing had not just been put out to dry.

  Once they were out of sight of the house, Lola slipped the dress over her t-shirt and tiny shorts. ‘That feels so much better,’ she said as they began walking again.

  As the harsh light of the afternoon softened and yellowed, Georgia began searching for somewhere suitable to spend the night.
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br />   When Lola had asked her where they were going to sleep, it had sounded like the hopeless plea of a small child. Georgia had tried to reassure her that they would find somewhere safe and comfortable, even though she had serious doubts that they would. Here, Deedee interrupted by explaining with almost evil delight that they would probably have to sleep out in the middle of a field. Lola had gone very pale at this. Georgia, hot, tired, and hurting everywhere, was on the point of telling Deedee to shut up, when Jamie spotted a ramshackle barn and the issue was resolved.

  It was far from perfect, there was one wall completely missing and part of the roof had caved in, but it was shelter and at least, they did not have to sleep out in a field. However as the evening progressed and night fell, Georgia could not help but wonder, if they might not have been more comfortable out in the open, ‘in the middle of a field!’

  In the fading twilight, Georgia began pulling out the contents of her backpack. She looked up at Lola. ‘How about you check the caddy for something to eat, aside from the pecan pie, which we should probably keep for breakfast, there should still be some crackers and some bags of smoked meat.’

  Lola knelt down by the bag, unzipping the lid. ‘Ew, something stinks to high heaven in here,’ she said suddenly, waving her hand under her nose.

  Georgia dropped the sleeping bags she had been zipping together and went over to her. This they didn’t need.

  Lola held up a plastic bag, the inside had fogged up making it impossible to clearly see the contents. ‘I am guessing it is whatever is in here.’

  Georgia reached out for the bag, taking a quick sniff at its contents. The smell told her all she need to know. The meat had turned. Frustration welled up inside her, how could she have been so stupid?

  For a moment she was so mad at herself that she was unable to speak, then she said, ‘It’s the smoked meat, I thought it was dry enough to store, and with the heat of the last few days the meat must have begun to sweat. I guess putting it in sealed plastic bags was not such a good idea after all.’ She paused as Lola drew out the remaining bags. ‘Are they all the same?’ she asked.

  Lola cautiously took a sniff, wrinkling her nose. ‘Yep, but it has only just turned, perhaps it is still okay for the dogs?’

  Georgia nodded. ‘I think that should be fine, not for Ant though.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘She seems to have a delicate stomach, in the past we have had to rush her twice to the vet, nearly lost her once. But the meat should be fine for Badger and Millie.’ They would save the can of cat food for another day.

  Georgia went back to arranging their sleeping area. She was badly worried now. This was a serious setback as this left only the crackers, cheese, sardines and the salami; barely enough, for the next twenty four hours. She finished zipping the sleeping bags together to make a ground cover, roughly the size of a double bed, and they had the one blanket, the one she had snatched from the fiery bedroom as she escaped with Ant, but that was all. She shrugged her shoulders as she looked at the makeshift bed, it was what it was, and it would just have to do. Right now, the question of food was much more serious.

  Millie and Badger had no issues with the meat, wolfing it down as though they expected someone to snatch it away from them at any moment. Poor Ant was most indignant, she could smell that the others were being fed intoxicating delights, while she was only offered a handful of dried dog biscuits. Eventually she ate them, but it was reluctantly and with long teeth, an expression her Aunt Elsie used to describe someone eating something they really did not like.

  Lola had made cracker sandwiches, slicing the cheese and salami thinly in an attempt to make it spread further.

  Rebecca, her mouth full of crumbs, suddenly asked, ‘so where are we going to get food if the stores don’t have any more?’

  ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full,’ Georgia said automatically, then added, as Rebecca muttered a quick, ‘sorry’, ‘I expect we will have to do what they used to do in the old days, before there were stores.’

  ‘Before there were stores,’ Deedee repeated as though the whole concept was so bizarre that it simply was not possible that there ever was such a time.

  ‘Yeah,’ Rebecca said, ‘like when the pilgrims came here.’

  ‘Or like the Indians, Jamie added, ‘when they hunted and….’

  Georgia interrupted him, ‘you mean the North American Indians…’

  She was about to say more but Deedee, suddenly enthused, sprung to her feet. ‘Oh! Like the Apaches, we already have a bow and we could hunt wild animals for food, and use their skin for clothing, and paint our faces.’

  She was speaking so fast her words were practically tumbling over each other, her eyes shining with delight as she began doing a little war dance, whooping and hooping in circles around them. This was too much for the dogs, the three of them leapt up, jumping around her, with total glee.

  ‘Shush Deedee, sit down,’ Georgia exclaimed, ‘someone could hear us if you continue with that racket.’

  Undaunted, Deedee sat down, her face flushed with excitement while Rebecca and Lola attempted to calm the dogs.

  ‘In effect,’ Georgia said once everyone was settled, ‘that is exactly what I mean, and we are going to have to live off the land. We do have a little gold, and possibly, we can trade that for food; but how successful that will be, I do not know. The one constant that we should be able to rely on, is game, and food we can gather, whether it is fruit we find, or edible plants.’

  ‘Do you think that is possible?’ Lola asked, doubt clear on her face.

  ‘Yes, I do think it is possible, it won’t be easy that’s for sure, but I think as long as we don’t panic, concentrate on being hunters and gathers and keeping to forested areas, I think we could manage, and it is only until we reach Bethel. Once we are there, everything will be okay.’

  ‘What about bars?’ Lola asked suddenly.

  Bars? What did bars have to do with food? Was she a drinker? An alcoholic even, was this going to be another problem?

  Looking levelly at Lola she asked, ‘why are you asking about bars?’ Or did she mean some other type of bars, like fruit bars or…

  ‘Only seeing as how we are going to go through the forests there are bound to be bars everywhere.’

  Suddenly Rebecca giggled, ‘I think she means bears.’

  Lola nodded. ‘Yes, that’s what I said, bars, the woods are full of them, and they are really dangerous.’ she looked at Georgia quizzically. ‘What did you think I meant.’

  Georgia laughed. ‘Oh never mind, it is your accent, and I will get used to it.’

  ‘I don’t have an accent.’ Lola smiled broadly at her. ‘You do.’

  Georgia ate a second cracker, and then feigned a lack of appetite, letting the children and Lola finish off the rest. She was so hungry, she felt as though she could have eaten all of it, including the pitiful stores that had been packed up for later.

  The light was failing rapidly now. They finished off the meal and drank deeply from their water bottles. Water was something else they would have to start worrying about before too long, but for now, they were good with what they had.

  The night air was damp and filled with bugs. Bugs that bit, and scuttled, and whined incessantly just out of slapping range. All night long, there were unidentifiable rustling and scuttling sounds around them.

  Once, Lola let out a piercing scream, declaring loudly that a spotter had just run across her. This created a great deal of commotion. Hearts racing and half-asleep, they all scrambled from the makeshift bed, stumbling and crashing about in the shafts of moonlight, the dogs picking up their fear and whimpering nervously.

  In the half-light, with Lola warning her to be careful, Georgia had nervously taken the shotgun and carefully explored the landscape of the blanket, with its myriads of folds and furrows looking for this ‘spotter’ creature. Lola’s, near incoherent, description, ‘huge with hairy legs and could bite’, surely not that huge, had led her to believ
e it was something vicious, possibly something like a wolverine, but with spots.

  She had never seen one, but she had heard of them, how bloodthirsty and savage they could be. The children stood huddled together behind her as she methodically checked through all the bedding. What hell creature was this that had them all so afraid? She nervously lifted up the folds, having no idea what to expect. America had creatures that she had never heard of before, and some of them were poisonous. Was this something that would leap at her throat?

  Suddenly Lola screamed, ‘there it is, kill it.’

  Georgia had nearly screamed herself, and with a quailing heart, she had stared at the place where Lola was pointing. At first, she had not seen anything, and that was not entirely because of the lack of illumination, it was because she had been searching for something somewhat larger.

  The hell creature turned out to be a spider, about the size of a thumbnail. She had smiled to herself as she carried the blanket outside. It did have hairy legs, and it could bite, but it certainly was not huge, not what she would call huge anyway. She hated to think what Lola’s reaction would be to a good ol’ Australian Huntsman! Now that was a spider.

  She flicked out the blanket a couple of times and then, when she was sure the spider had been catapulted to safety she brought the blanket back inside. Georgia guessed that ‘spotter’ was how they said spider down south. She then shook out the rest of the bedding and once everyone was convinced that the bedding was both spider and spotter free, they attempted to go back to sleep.

  It seemed very unfair to Georgia that the others fell asleep so readily. As they slept, she cuddled Ant in the crook of her arm, the gentle sound of even breathing surrounding her as she stared into the darkness. So far, the dogs seemed to be handling everything well, becoming almost clingy in their determination not to let the group out of their sight. She wished Ant was not so tiny, wished that she didn’t have to be carried, but even if they could persuade her to walk with the other dogs, her little legs would never keep up. She leaned down and kissed Ant’s nose, getting a quick lick in return. The sort that said, great, lovely that you kissed me, now let me sleep.