Joshua Gayou - Commune - The Complete Series - A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Box Set (Books 1-4)

A pack of people on motorcycles chasing down a group on foot, one of them badly wounded, didn’t sound to me like an innocent mistake. That wasn’t just the average struggle for limited resources. It sounded to me like a pack of hyenas. I felt a prickle along the sleeves of my shirt and looked down to see goosebumps along my arms.

I also noticed, during Gibs’s story, when Edgar spoke up at the death of Kyle and Jessica. He said, “A needless loss.” Wang, who was reserved and could be very hard to read, frowned in Edgar’s direction. I was a little surprised myself; his tone was just shy of accusatory. Even more surprising, Gibs said nothing to defend himself. He only nodded his agreement.

The rest of the story was finished between all of them with focus jumping from person to person as one filled in any details that the other may have missed. The narrative ended with Jake being handcuffed on the pavement. I wanted to reach out and hit him when I heard that. As stupid as it sounded to me, it was just like something my Jake would do.

“Essentially,” Jake concluded, “You’ve all just been looking for a place to settle.” They all nodded, and a couple of them vocalized agreement. After letting the silence hang just a little longer than what was comfortable, he said, “What are your thoughts on this area?”

Gibs sat up straight on the couch and said, “What, you mean this valley? Are you asking us to move in?”

Rather than answer, Jake took a sip from his glass and waited.

Gibs looked among his other companions and then looked at Jake again. “You don’t even know us, man. Why the hell would you do that?”

“You’re not murderers, I know that. I can sniff out a murderer… none of you fit. I’ve already explained what I’ve seen so far; I don’t think I need to spend a lot of time repeating myself.”

“Right, but ‘not murderers’ is a rather weak basis for such an offer, wouldn’t you agree?” Gibs asked. I found myself agreeing with him.

Jake nodded and said, “Can I top that up for you?” while pointing at Gibs’s glass. Gibs shrugged and held it out for a refill.

“Look,” Jake said as he settled back into his chair, “You’re right. Under normal circumstances, we’d be feeding you all and sending you on your way the next day. But I’m not making this offer because I’m such a nice guy. Or, at least, that’s not the entire reason.”

George was leaning forward now, resting both hands on the head of his cane. It was the most intent I’d seen him through the entire discussion.

“Amanda and I have been working on and adding to a list of things that need to be accomplished over the next several months. There are all kinds of lovely, thoughtful names we can apply to this list but the bottom line is that it defines our expiration date for survival.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and suppressed a shudder. He was drifting into territory that I did my best not to think too much about; the dark things that kept me awake in the late hours of the night.

“The best way to describe this is that we’re in a race right now to get to a point where we’re not relying on any of the supplies of the old world when they run out. We’re already well on our way to that point, actually. Fresh bread, meat, and dairy simply don’t exist anymore unless we make it… which we can’t; anything that was packaged and put on a shelf went bad a long time ago. It won’t be long before gasoline stops working, either. We’ve been working to harvest as much of that as possible, as you’ve seen, and we’ve treated what we have so far with fuel stabilizers. Even so, within a couple of months, give or take, whatever we haven’t pulled out of a tank will have gone inert.”

He took another drink without looking away from them. There was an impression that he was holding eye contact with all four of them at the same time, though that was impossible. They sat motionless and silent.

“After that will be the canned and freeze-dried food, which is currently the majority of our food supply. The dates will vary, there, depending on the food type, but I don’t think we can reasonably rely on more than a year in that case. After that, our only option will be mres and what we can hunt, fish, or farm. The problem with that is there are only three of us here.”

“I’m starting to see the problem,” George said.

“Indeed,” Jake agreed. “For a workable subsistence farm, we’re probably looking at one acre per person if we’re talking about vegetables alone. Add in grains and livestock, which we’ll need to do for dietary diversity, and that number increases to five working acres per person. These are all round numbers, of course, but they work as a good baseline. This is further complicated by the fact that the area we’re in has one of the shortest growing seasons in the whole state; there isn’t really any growing season to speak of at all for tender vegetation. We’re looking mostly at roots and the like.”

“Have you thought of moving to a better climate?” asked Wang.

“Sometimes but not seriously,” Jake said. “For one, it’s hard to beat the area. It’s secluded, hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for, and naturally defended on all sides. You’ll excuse me if I mention the fact that you all had your asses kicked across Colorado looking for something similar.”

This woke me up. It was always an event when Jake decided to curse; I wondered what had brought it out.

Gibs, who had settled back and seemed a little loose around his second glass of whiskey, said, “Kicked a little ass too, fella.”

“Oh, that’s understood,” Jake said and lifted his glass to Gibs, who in turn gave a lazy salute. “And, for another thing, we killed quite a few people to protect this place. We lost a dear friend in doing so. This is Billy’s place. He believed there was a way to make it work here and we have a lot of his initial planning to see it through. We’re not prepared to walk away just yet.”

Gibs nodded at this statement. He got it.

“Anyway, outside of the farming situation, there’re plenty of other things to do. There is a lot of relearning of lost trades and arts that must be accomplished so that we can be ready for the day when all of these leftover products just aren’t viable anymore. Things like metalworking, pottery, building permanent housing without milled lumber. We need to know how to find water; this place has a well, but wells go dry. Aqueducts, animal processing, skinning and tanning, food preservation. On top of that, I need to be looking to our defenses, stockpiling more weapons and ammunition, even preparing for the day when we eventually fire the last bullet. That day is out there on the timeline, and it’ll be here a lot sooner than we’d like if we’re not careful.”

Jake drained the last of his glass and smiled.

“This is an awful lot of work for three people, one of them being a child. Like I said: this isn’t about us playing the role of Charitable Savior. We need help. The three of us on our own can survive… maybe. A community of people can thrive.”

“So… who’s in charge?” asked Edgar. George and Wang looked in his direction; George nodded slightly. Gibs was looking down at his empty glass as though he found it offensive.

Jake looked in his direction as well, and here I have to say that things started to get a little uncomfortable in the room. Jake smiled and nodded; there was no indication that he was annoyed by the question, and I honestly don’t believe that he was, but there was a tangible feeling of measuring in his regard. I’m convinced Edgar felt it too because he began to squirm a bit in his chair.

“That’s a very good question,” Jake said. “A penetrating question. I suspect we’ll have to feel that out as we go. To some degree, the people who live here will determine who is in charge. A man… or woman,” he nodded to me, “can stand up to proclaim themselves King all day long, yet it means nothing if they’re ignored by the subjects. People must consent to follow. You can dominate their choice, of course, but then, you’ll never truly be in charge. You certainly won’t be pretending for very long, either.”