Chapter One
I wipe the sweat from my forehead before it falls into my eyes and curse the unventilated transport for the hundredth time today. The temperature is ridiculously hot outside but at least three degrees hotter in the BAS machines. I look over to Max to see him struggling with the heat too. Although, he can’t hide the proud expression he’s wearing as he clumsily manoeuvres his transport nearly losing the tenuous grip he has on the supply cylinder. Mickael, Gerla, Tomas and I gave him a crash course on how to use the transports after we docked at the port. If it wasn’t for the three days we had to spend taking the contents of thirteen supply cylinders and making it fit into ten and training Max up we could possibly be out of this concrete-ridden hole and into a cooler climate among something green.
I look down at my hands as they start a slow, sticky decline along the control sticks. Once again I have to lower my supply cylinder and rub my hands on my pants to dry off the sweat that seems to pool there every few minutes. What should be a simple task is made more difficult because the two middle fingers on my left hand are still bandaged after being broken twice on the ship. They stick straight out and are denied the luxury of curling around the control stick. Why don’t these stupid machines have some sort of cruise control? Sadie, my neighbour back home told me about cruise control late one night while I prepared the skins of three rabbits I’d caught and she let down the hem of Max’s pants for the last time. She had read about it in a book about BAS vehicles. At the time I thought for the millionth time about the extravagant and unnecessary luxuries afforded to people in the past but I have a completely different opinion after having suffered the transports for three days straight. My legs ache from simulating an exaggerated walking style to operate the lower half of the transport and my arms are seizing up after having to hold the same position for so long.
You only have to look around at the ruins to see the sorts of machines that were in operation BAS, if they were so smart surely they could see cruise control was essential for these heavy, unventilated machines. When I complained to Vonteuse about the poor design he said the transports weren’t made for any long distance travel, more for moving large items around factories for short periods of time. There was no need for cruise control. I initially thought that was unlikely because the transports were solar powered and if they were in buildings all day they wouldn’t get the power they needed to operate. Vonteuse said that they were probably docked outside when they weren’t used to charge the batteries or maybe they had some sort of artificial sunlight indoors BAS. I decided to drop the subject. Sometimes BAS technology sends my head spinning. Why anyone would want fake sunlight when there is perfectly fine sunlight outside I’ll never know.
I can’t help but think that dumping the whole lot of the cylinders and travelling light is a better idea than this. The Refuge is supposed to be surrounded by an inland lake so I assume it has trees. I know we can put something together once we get there using the resources that are available. At the rate we’re travelling we’ll all be dead from Age Sickness before we even get there. The thought makes me look down at my arms and examine the marks left from my bout of the Sickness. The sores are nearly completely gone, only shadows on my dark skin remain. I have mixed emotions about seeing them disappear. While they are still there I’m reminded of how lucky I am to be alive, to have escaped death when I was right in its clutches. On the other hand, every time I see them I think about how long it will be before I find a fresh sore. I know the others think I have immunity because no one else has ever recovered from Age Sickness the way I did, but I can’t bring myself to completely believe it. I don’t have room in my head to think about it,. I just want to get to The Refuge and set Max up. I refuse to plan any further than that and honestly feel lucky to think I can make it that far.
Mayther moves his transport out in front of the rest of us and turns so we all have a front-on view of his face. After placing his cylinder down rather clumsily, he holds his hands up in the time-out symbol we learnt at training. This is the third break today, it’s no wonder we’re making such poor progress. I drop my cylinder to the ground with more force than is really necessary and slip my feet out of the foot straps before sliding open the clear shield and jumping to the ground. As much as I hate these constant interruptions I can’t help but soak up the cooler air on my wet skin and the opportunity to stretch the muscles in my back, arms and legs. I notice Gerla, Diego and Mickael doing the same.
I step around my transport to see how Max is going. He often has trouble staying in our formation of three, four, three and causes us to stretch out further than is ideal. He’s supposed to be next to me in the middle but Mickael has stepped up to his position leaving Max at the back with Renka and Vonteuse. Max is struggling to get his feet out of the foot straps in his transport. I walk around the side of his transport, about to climb up when the leg flicks out the front quickly then swings around and slams into my back. The air is pushed out of my lungs with a whoosh sound that ends when I crash to the ground. I roll over onto my back and try frantically to suck air in through my mouth. Panic settles in when I realise it is not going to happen and I grab at my throat as if that’s going to magically make air fly into my body. I look left and right appealing for help. This is ironic and almost comical, to think I’m going to die from suffocation. Suddenly Tomas’ face is in front of mine instructing me to focus on his eyes. I look up at him begging him to help me with my whole being.
“Relax, you’re just winded, breathe through your nose”, he says calmly.
I close my mouth and suck air in through my nose with ease. Once the oxygen floods my lungs I open my mouth gasping for air.
“That’s it. Relax and breathe slowly and deeply”, Tomas instructs as he moves his forearm under my shoulder blades and gently lifts me into a sitting position.
My body relaxes with his calming words and my breathing returns to its normal rhythm. Tomas’ hand moves down my back pressing into each rib checking for tenderness. I flinch when he finds his way to my lower left side. He gently traces the outline of the offending rib and sits back on his heels in front of me.
“You’ll have a bruise tomorrow but nothing’s broken”, he says trying not to look directly into my eyes.
I turn away as I thank him for his help and curl my legs under me to lift myself off the ground. Tomas starts to reach out to help me then thinks otherwise and lowers his hand. He turns to leave and I watch him go. Things are very tense between us. After the initial excitement about spotting land, then the packing and planning that followed I avoided him. I want to talk to him about why I can’t let anything more happen between us. I want to tell him that it is more than the sketch of me I discovered. That my mind can’t function around him, it takes all my priorities and puts them out of order. That I can’t trust my body when I’m near him, it reacts to all the traitorous hormones that seem to go on overdrive whenever he is around. And, that we all have to put our energy into getting to The Refuge and finding something to stop Age Sickness. We can’t be selfish; we are here for a reason. But I can’t find the words. Instead we’ve fallen into a stilted formal rhythm of interaction that is extremely uncomfortable.
“Pia, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I got my foot stuck again”, Max calls out from the top of the transport as he climbs down the side.
“I’m fine, Max, don’t worry about it”, I reassure him.
He looks me up and down searching every square inch of my body with his anxious eyes and raises his hands to do a physical inspection too. I glare at him, warning him to stop before he starts. Max is a true believer in my immunity and what it means for everyone. He argues that my safety and health are more important than anything if we are ever going to find a vaccination for Age Sickness. He is overprotective and annoying as a result of this belief. He promised me he wouldn’t be that way when I confronted him with my concerns about it but clearly that was not a promise he could keep. He lowers his hands and settles on asking if I’m s
ure I am all right. I brush his question away with my hand and head to the front of the formation where everyone is gathered.
My mind flashes back to the second day of sorting through the supply cylinders and I almost growl aloud. I had been deep within one cylinder as it lay horizontally on the ground reaching to the very back for a piece of canvas that had lodged at the top. I was stretching my body as far as it could go and using my knee to propel myself further forward. I felt a sudden lurch in the cylinder and rolled over onto my injured hip. It was on its way to recovery after the explosion on the ship but I sensed it would be set back in the process as I continued to roll over and over onto it. I realised that the cylinder was rolling at a pretty fast pace and started to scrunch myself into a ball trying to put all of my body weight into one spot to slow it down. This only resulted in me banging my head several times before I lurched to a dramatic and painful stop. I crawled out of the cylinder groaning and was swarmed by everyone who could run fast enough to meet me at my exit. Their hands roamed my body looking for injuries as tears welled in their eyes and dripped down their cheeks. Gerla was a sobbing mess and even Mickael was hiccupping back cries that tried to break free. I pushed myself up and away from them all looking at them in complete bewilderment. I took in my surroundings and noticed that the cylinder had rolled in the opposite direction to the cliff edge stopping only when it hit one of the boulders that were spattered around the landscape. We had moved all the cylinders and transports away from the docking area and on to a sloping open field area via a steep winding road that connected to the port. It had more space to lay the cylinders horizontally and sort out the most essential supplies. In hindsight it seemed a stupid thing to do given we were working with equipment that rolled so easily. It was pretty funny that I had just gone rolling in a cylinder and I started laughing, I couldn’t help myself. I doubled over in hysterics and after taking a few deep breaths and wiping the moisture away from my eyes I straightened up to see six faces glaring at me in a mixture of anger and bewilderment.
“At least I didn’t roll off the cliff”, I mumbled when I straightened myself up.
“Tomas, maybe you should check her out and see if she’s hurt”, Mickael directed at Tomas, ignoring my comment.
“Yeah, I think her hip has opened up again”, Diego said pointing at the offending area that was quickly soaking my pants in blood.
“Her fingers should be checked too, she must have rolled onto them the bandage looks a little loose”, Vonteuse offered.
“Are you all right, Pia? You look a bit pale”, Max asked from my side.
I looked down at his concerned face and back up at the others who were talking about me as if I was a specimen, not a person standing in front of them. If any one of them had been in that cylinder it would have been funny. This was exactly the reaction I dreaded. Renka was so right when he said they would want to wrap me up in cotton wool if they thought I had immunity. I was no longer a girl to them, if I ever was just that after they had been inundated with my image that was flashed around the communes for the last ten months publicising me as the eldest person. I was a means for them to survive, a symbol of hope that needed to be protected at all costs. I was the refuge we were sent to find. I could see it all over their faces. All except one. Tomas was looking at me in sympathy, unsure of how to proceed. I stared at him willing him to dare touch me before turning and storming off leaving shouts of concern behind me. Before I found my pack that had spare bandages in it I saw Renka staring out over the cliff’s edge and for the first time I thought I preferred his despondent company to any of the others.
Tomas’ calm voice reassuring Max I was okay brings me back to the present.. I look over at them in warning. The last thing I need is for them to tell the others what has happened. Tomas gives a small nod of acknowledgment indicating he knows what my death stare is all about and edges closer to the group to hear what the delay is. Max walks over to join me and we make our way to the group as well.
“Can’t you see? Look around you, Tomas knows what I’m talking about, it’s not right”, Mayther is saying emphatically.
Gerla, Merva and Diego are looking at our surroundings, turning their bodies in a full circle to understand what Mayther is indicating. I do the same thing, unsure what exactly I’m supposed to be seeing. We’re in the middle of a deserted road that is lined with tall buildings. That isn’t anything unusual, for the past four days travelling through the ruins we’ve stuck to the deserted roads that are surrounded by buildings of various sizes in different states of disrepair. Sometimes we have to head off the road to get around BAS vehicles that are blocking our way. Other times we use the transports to move debris of some sort; both major time-wasters that slow our progress even further. Before I complete a full circle it hits me that I haven’t seen a BAS vehicle or any debris for some time. I stop suddenly and turn back the way we came. The transports and cylinders are blocking some of the view but I see enough to know that there has been nothing blocking our path for as far as the eye can see. Given that the road is pretty straight that is far enough to assume a pattern is taking place. I stand on my toes to see over the heads of the others looking in the direction we’re heading. There is nothing blocking our way that way either. It is completely clear. I spin to my right and lean my head back looking up at the building nearest me. It has the same look as all of the other buildings we’ve passed in the ruins. Tall, almost completely glass, reflecting the sun’s rays, making it so much hotter than it has to be and entirely without character. But the building in front of me has one major difference. The bottom floor is impeccably clean. The many windows are not broken or covered in so much grime they resemble dirt panels, they are shining and blindingly clear. My breath starts to come faster as I realise the situation we are in. Ruins these are called but they no longer resemble what the word implies and I have no idea how long this has been the case. An eerie silence falls around us as we turn back to face the middle of our near perfect circle. Even Renka has found his way into the group and shares the same look of befuddlement and fear that the rest of us have. I glance over at Max who is now so close our shoulders are touching. What does this mean?
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About the Author
The Cargo Trilogy is Katie Mineeff's first foray into writing. She is a primary school teacher and a mother of four. She lives by a stunning lake in Wollongong, NSW Australia. When she's not organising a household of six she spends her time creating imaginative worlds for interesting people to have extraordinary adventures.
Cargo, is the first book in The Cargo Trilogy, followed by Ruin (Book 2) and soon to come Refuge (Book 3).
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The Cargo Trilogy
Cargo (Book 1)
Ruin (Book 2)
Refuge (Book 3) Coming soon!
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