Emma Zeth - The Lucky Prepper - A Gardener's Story of Surviving a Pandemic

‘No,’ I said, standing upright and starting to pace back and forth, ‘I described my strategy of hide, wait and stay safe, I even put some of my experiences with the knockers in my essay.’

‘Knockers?’

‘The people who came knocking on doors asking for food; I hid from them.’ I understood suddenly how this could be construed, it wasn’t exactly altruistic. ‘but….’

‘That might have been it’ she said.

I was disturbed, had I been so selfish that they had thought I would join their little village fiefdom? Encourage others into what seemed remarkably like the medieval system of serfdom?

The wheelbarrow was full and the woman from the shed was coming out, holding a clipboard in one hand and locking up with a large bunch of keys. She glanced at Ruth and then looked at me as I picked up my umbrella, passing it from hand to hand clumsily as I tried to pick up the wheelbarrow. My little act worked… the lady stopped me with a wave of her clipboard. ‘Hold on, the kids have nothing booked for this afternoon, let her take it to your house, it will give her something to do.’ She unlocked the door, walked back inside and picked up the phone. She said a couple of words, scribbled something on her clipboard signed it with a flourish and walked out again. She pulled it out from under the clip and handed it to me… it was a work order.

‘Just sign it when you’re satisfied and give it to her’ she said. ‘I’ve put her down for an extra two hours so feel free to use the entire time’

Ruth made a noise under her breath ‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the form and giving the gatekeeper a big smile. Ruth picked up the wheelbarrow and paced beside me, lagging slightly behind. I was puzzled for a second by the glare she was giving me but hoped that it was for the gatekeepers benefit; I had unwittingly just given her two hours more work, and she might not have understood that I just wanted time to go over what she had told me. The clouds broke and the sun peeped out. I began to hum again. The gatekeeper didn’t suspect a thing as we walked beside her back to the road.

I mulled over what I had just learnt. I didn’t know who to trust and I had been told a great many unpleasant things. I walked home in silence, and when we arrived, she dumped the compost in the garden and made to leave.

‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

‘I need to return the wheelbarrow’ she replied, I could see she was tired, but I’d had time to think and I needed more answers.

‘You have time, take a break’ I said gently. ‘Come inside and join me for lunch’ I hadn’t really planned it, but I couldn’t let her go back, cold and wet and probably hungry.

‘Ok, I’ll have missed lunch and they only give you cold leftovers if you are late.’

We went inside and I took out some eggs, butter, and bread and put the kettle on. Ruth’s face was mostly impassive, but I could see she wasn’t unaffected by the sight of the food.

‘What do they feed you at the hostel?’ I asked curiously.

‘Whatever people don’t want; the leftovers from the shops, stale bread, and old veg they make into soup…’

‘What happens to the food from the allotment?’ I asked as I cracked two eggs into a frying pan.

‘It gets boxed up and goes to the council who distribute it amongst the residents. It’s supposed to be fair, but the best stuff go to the council members and to the military commander, then to employees of the council, then to the shops..’ she trailed off as I added a knob of butter and some salt and pepper to the pan and the smell rose into the air.

‘Perhaps you could butter the bread’ I suggested.

When the eggs were done, I glanced at Ruth, emptied both into her plate, and cooked another for myself. We ate and chatted about life before the outbreak, and then it was time for her to go. As she lifted the wheelbarrow once more, I asked one more question; ‘Are you going to try and escape?’ She looked at me silently but didn’t respond.

It was nearly mid-March, I had been at the settlement camp for just under a month, and I had decided I wanted out. My fern garden was going well, as was my attempts at monitoring the patrols around the town. I had their pattern sussed, and had been working on the fence, loosening some of the boards so they would swing sideways to make a hole. I made sure to have a predictable routine, which involved a lot of time alone; when I left, I didn’t want anyone to miss me. I joined the gym, and went Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, building my running stamina and strength.

I was preparing to attend my first council meeting as an observer. I dithered between work clothes and casual wear, deciding in the end to go for a mix of the two; black trousers and a jumper. I arrived early at the church hall where David was setting out chairs and tables.

‘Hi David’ I said.

‘Hi Zoe, if you wait just a second I’ll grab you a seat.’

He turned and placed a chair at the far end, ‘The meetings are open, but you’re the first person to attend in months. You should be able to see everyone from here.’

I sat, waiting, as people drifted in, they looked at me but didn’t offer greetings, just sitting at their places and murmuring to each other. David handed me an agenda and the meeting started. I watched as they smoothly worked their way down the list, organised and efficient, working out alterations to rubbish collections and library hours, and ending with a discussion of a planned festival. If I hadn’t heard Ruth’s explanation, I might have taken it at face value, but as it was, I could see that they were staying away from certain topics and glancing at me when certain points were raised.

Afterwards there was tea and chocolate biscuits, a very rare treat. I was introduced to a lot of smiling faces, but there was one name I recognised.

‘Zoe, may I introduce you to Dr Peterson,’ said David, ‘He is the director of our medical facilities and chair of the council.’ I looked up at a tall spare man, with grey hair combed sideways.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, ‘I apologise for the mix up with your friend.’

‘Um…’ I was silenced by a wave of grief, ‘that’s ok, it was a genuine mistake.’ I said, ‘Do you know what happened? I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about it.’

He looked at me sharply, ‘As far as I am aware, Frank Tipson had a heart attack in the night and died. What more do you want to know?’ I paused, confused, looking at his cold grey eyes. What did I want to know exactly? I wasn’t sure, but I wanted more details than they seemed willing to provide.

‘Thank you Dr Peterson,’ interjected David, ‘I’ll talk to Zoe.’

I watched as the doctor walked abruptly away, reminded yet again why I didn’t want to stay here.

The next day, at school, I stepped up my research. I explored fully, giving the excuse that I was looking for demonstration science equipment. I found a lot of old prospectuses and some newer paperwork. It looked like the school had actually been a great school, pre-outbreak, but the surviving teachers had protested against Gordon’s ideas. I found the minutes of a set of meetings hidden away in an old computer lab. The staff had written to the council, the letter was signed by at least six people and one of them was the ex-head of science.

I wanted to know what had happened to my predecessor, so I asked the Wendover kids. I waited till lunch time; the Wendover kids tended to go home for lunch, the refugee kids were assigned school cleaning duties. I had searched the science labs for old exercise books and had eventually found a couple belonging to existing students. As we were leaving the classroom, I fumbled my pile of stuff and dropped the two books in front of them. Naturally they picked them up.