All The Dark Places

22. Guns And Ammo

    Hannah was barely fourteen, and she had more sense about her than most of the adults Rosalind encountered in her life. The girl was smart, ambitious and so far, reliable. She had been clinging to Rosalind since the last Sunday after-service town meeting, never too far from her when it was possible. Hannah carried a messenger bag with her full of helpful things; a compass, notebooks and pens, twine, measuring tape, duct tape, scissors, that sort of thing. She wrote everything down. They sat in the library of the castle and copied bits from her Kindle into her journal by candle light. The sun was not even up yet.

"I'm writing a book. Some day in the future people will want to know what this was like, and I want to make sure to get it right, so I am taking notes on everything. It's going to be like a novel, but true. You're the main character," she said, her bouncing pony tail making her seem even younger. "This is the biggest event in history you know. Think about it, in two or three generations, most people won't be able to read anymore. Maybe it will be only monks that know how to read, only in places with preserved libraries. People will be too busy farming and surviving to care much about reading. I want to make sure the history is written down so that they can be told our story."

"Our story. Hmm, I had not thought of that," Rosalind admitted.

Hannah was helping her to organize rosters for people to sign up for jobs and to inventory shared resources. Those resources were running dangerously low. Hannah noted this from her notebook, checking off items from the castle pantry. She had a list of local area establishments and private homes that might be willing to trade. She knew the area well, born there, and knew most of the surrounding farming families. She babysat their children and walked their dogs, and she still did, walking out to the farms by herself to watch over toddlers while the parents worked the land and carved out an existence in the new world.

"Dan and Monica Weiss have a goat farm not too far from here; two hour walk. They have the sweetest twin boys, Casey and Cory, just the sweetest little boys ever. Anyway, they have a lot of goats. I mean a lot. They need help though with getting their farm in order before winter. It's overwhelming the two of them. They used to have tractors, you know, before The Crush, but now it's just them. I mentioned the last time I was there that maybe you might want to trade something for a goat or two. They need a lot of stuff. Candles, rope, gardening tools, oil, fishing poles, things like that."

"That was very smart of you, and yes, I think I can round up some things for a trade if they are interested. But, Hannah, you should not be traveling alone. Not now. There has been news of some thugs that are in the area picking off farms and houses. Please, no more solo travel. Understood?"

"If you insist."

"I do insist. If you need to go somewhere out of town, please have your parents arrange someone to go with you."

She became quiet then.

"That's not possible," she said, biting the end of a pencil.

"Why not?"

She hesitated and then blurted out,

"I don't have any parents."

"You what?"

"I've been in foster care for two years. My dad died when I was seven and my mum died two years ago. So, I was staying with a couple who fostered me, but they were in London for a week and I stayed home. So, here I am."

"I'm sorry, Hannah. I didn't know that. You mean you've been alone this whole time?" Rosalind asked, wide-eyed.

"Yeah. It's not so bad. Toby gives me eggs and some things from his garden. He's nice. No one else thinks so, but he's not a bad guy. Ivy taught me how to forage for mushrooms and which ones are poisonous. Toby makes these bread cake things for me. He calls them bannocks. They don't taste like anything, but he says it's decent food, and you can live off that and some meat and veg. I'm not complaining. Not at all."