This is week 15 in volume 3 of the Saturday Survival Serial. To learn more about what the Saturday Survival Serial is, click here. To start at week 1, click here.
The group Marian had sent out from South Camp were heading down to White Cloud today. At least, that was the current plan. They had moved quickly to cover more ground. With the new foraging knowledge, they could literally grab a handful of edibles on the run.
Marcus was leading the group of 4 and had been the one to set the pace. He wanted to get in and out of areas quickly without risking missing something. The smallest things can be big opportunities, he reminded himself. They had already gone East, all the way to highway 131 before turning back. The travel was pretty quick, since there were so few of them and they were all able-bodied and had been part of the group that originally came with Marian. Little discussion was needed and few orders given. Everyone simply knew what needed to be done.
The plan was to head down and check bridges further south of White Cloud along highway 37. Marcus hoped they would be able to get into the town of Newaygo, MI where he knew a bridge was from the road map he had found but assumed there would be others close by. If possible, they would take out the smaller bridges and leave the highway 37 bridge as a way to force potential enemies to go where they wanted them to.
Though they were making good time, the likelihood of making it all the way down there on foot today was small. Still, it was a gorgeous day out and they had already covered so much ground, he decided that when they came across the next lake or good stream, they would stop and try to fish up a little fresh meat.
Candy was also in the group, though her personality was anything but sweet. A self declared cynic, skeptic, and pessimist, Candy was extremely reliable and knew her way around just about anything that shot a bullet or arrow. An only child, her Texan father had raised her to be able to defend herself against anything with two or four legs. By the time she was 12, she was competing , and winning. If not for childhood asthma, Candy would have enlisted in the Army. She had little use for feminine ‘distractions’ as she put it. Thankfully, she was on their side.
The other two were Jack and Rick who had joined Marian’s group at the same time. They had met when Jack was raiding a place Rick had scouted out. What could have ended up with one of them dead resulted in the forming of a team instead. Jack, the jokester, had asked Rick if he was there for the dinner special when they first met. Rick was so surprised at the unexpected question, and humor, that he laughed loudly. Rick decided on the spot that anyone who could still crack jokes in this very unhumorous world was alright in his book.
“Alright, we head further South today to White Cloud but if there’s a good fishing spot on the way, we should get something more solid to eat for tonight.” Marcus was happy to see them all open to the idea and saw more than one person licking their lips in anticipation of fresh fish.
They agreed with him quickly and set out at an easy jog.
*************
The sirens sounded in the camp at Plymouth again, calling people to the main area at the Food Commons. Shannon sighed, put her tools down and told the others to do the same. They were right in the middle of the final check to test the sewer system. She had half a mind to ignore the call and keep working. Then again, she had no idea what the consequences would be for not showing. Better safe than sorry.
“What do you think it is this time?” Leslie asked when she joined Shannon.
Shannon shrugged. “Who knows? Hopefully nothing like last time. We’ve all seen enough death to last a lifetime.”
The others gathered up and they began walking. The same as last time, they saw people everywhere, walking and talking about what could be going on. Shannon idly wondered what the population was now. She was shaken from her musings by someone calling her name. She turned and was surprised to see the soldier she’d saved from drowning on the way to this camp. Sergeant Stupid is still around? She stopped walking and waited for him to catch up.
He smiled at her and said, “I wondered if you were still here. Can I walk with you?”
Shannon eyed him warily and said, “Normally I would say it’s a free country but….” she trailed off.
Tully “Tam” Piede stuck his hands in his pockets and fell in step next to her. He didn’t say anything at first, just glanced over at Shannon a couple times. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and was about to tell him to say whatever he wanted already when she glanced more fully at his face and saw….nervousness. She didn’t know what to make of it and decided to find out.
“I thought you’d be long gone by now. Out patrolling or something. Do you live here now?”
Tam nodded and replied, “I did leave, actually. I was gone for about 2 weeks but asked to transfer back and be a civilian instead.”
Shannon didn’t let her surprise show on her face. When she glanced at him again, she could see he was watching her reaction. She shrugged, playing it off.
“Well, everyone has to be somewhere, I guess.”
When he didn’t respond, she stopped walking and turned to face him. “What do you want, Sergeant?”
His face reddened and Shannon realized, to her shock, that he was like a teenager talking to his first girl or something. There was a bead of sweat on his brow as he took a deep breath and replied.
“I’m not a sergeant anymore and I want to know if you would like to meet me for a meal or something. Um….sometime?”
It was Shannon’s turn for her face to get red when Leslie giggled, not even trying to hide the fact that they were all listening in.
Shannon put on a false sense of confidence. “Uh, sure. I guess. Not this week though, too busy with other stuff.”
He nodded, looking relieved and Shannon felt a little chink in her once solid armor. The boyish look of relief on his face was endearing.
They turned the corner to see the parking area in front of the Food Commons filling up with people. In the center was an old iron bucket that had a fire and some sort of metal sticking out of it. Curious about what was happening, she asked a few people. No one had any idea what to think. She looked at Tam questioningly and he said he didn’t know either.
After about 10 minutes, the siren blared for one, 3 second blast to quiet everyone down. The doors of the main Food Commons building opened and out came the mayor, two soldiers, and another man that looked to be a camp resident. They walked up to the center and stood next to the smoking bucket. A megaphone had been given to him and he addressed the crowd gathered.
“Greetings, Residents! Today, we have called you to witness the process for when someone goes through the proper steps for leaving the camp with the intent on not returning. I’m sure you will see, it is far more humane and makes logical sense.
“Considerable resources are used to build these camps and your own hard work keeps them going. It is a group affair, a family affair, and we do not take the use of them lightly. There must be a give and take. We give you the place to live and thrive and you give us the manpower and expertise to ensure the success of our home.
“As I have said before, people may leave the camps if they choose to. No one will stop them so long as they go through the right process and channels.” The mayor gestured to the man standing next to him. “This resident has chosen to leave and has gone through the proper process.
“Because resources are so scarce and the cost of these camps being high, we cannot have people coming when they need something and then just leaving when they get it. The United Nations is not in the business of having revolving doors for those who wish to use our supplies without contributing anything back. We have to be able to tell if the people who come to our camp haven’t been just going from camp to camp and see what they can get from us. From you, and the hard work you all put in to create the supplies and resources we need to rebuild.
“Therefore, it is the policy of the United Nation’s settlement camps that when a person chooses to leave, they are branded with the symbol for the camp they are leaving on the back of their hand.”
There was a collective gasp and almost all eyes snapped to the man standing there stoically. He must have known this prior to the speech being given. The mayor raised his hand to stop the whispering voices that seemed to ring loudly around the parking lot.
“This is done so that should they ever decide they want to come back to a settlement camp, it will be known they have already been at one. The United Nations is here to help but not to be taken advantage of. We must all work together to be successful. Being branded is not a damnation, merely a symbol that shows the history of your choices.”
The mayor stepped back and waved to one of the soldiers. They stepped forward, as did the man who placed his hand on the post that had been stuck in the ground. The soldier put a glove on, reached into the bucket of coals and pulled out the iron rod. At the end of the rod was the shape of a “P” and a line diagonally through it.
The crowd began talking and murmuring, though no one moved or spoke up. It was as if they were too stunned to even think about making a protest at the barbaric practice. Shannon’s eyes were wide as she watched the metal come down and connect with the back of the man’s hand. She could hear the sound even from so far away, making her feel ill. The man cried out only once.
As soon as the brand had been placed, medical staff came in to tend and wrap it. When they had finished, the Mayor spoke again.
“This man did not come with anything he can prove was his. Therefore, he is allowed the clothing on his back and a simple pocket knife, graciously provided by the United Nations. Regardless of what others may say out there, we are not heartless and realize that something like a knife can mean the difference between life and death. He will be escorted two miles away in whichever direction he wishes to go.” The mayor gestured to everyone.
“See how much nicer this is instead of being shot in the middle of the night?”
I love how you show the UN types to be “gracious” in allowing the man leaving to have a knife on his way out the door.
But the untrusting side of me thinks that two miles down the road, Mr. I’m Out of Here will be returning the knife and his life forfeit for his troubles.
I’m sure the UN, for all their kind feelings won’t want any rabble rousers showing back up or telling outsiders what the camps are REALLY like.
Short and sweet.
Hope your water heater issue is all fixed.
Until next week, thank you.