Kenopsia (Book 1 of Pandora's Wake: The Nomad Chronicles)
Voices on the Wind

“We need to be on our way Knut.” a worried-looking nomad said, glancing from the convoy to the nomads who were sweeping the road ahead for the strange grub things.

“This one is dead as well!” Joanas reported over the radio, “I have bagged one for the doctor, to go with the corpse!” Doctor Allmendinger had insisted they take the body of the Spanish UNCAIF soldier with them as far as the hospital in Bex. If this was something new, that people didn’t already know about, it might be important learn more about these things.

Knut had been sceptical of the doctor’s theory at first. She’d posited that somehow these grubs inserted a parasite into their host that was able to take over the host’s motor functions in some way. It sounded like the stuff of old pre-Event movie plots but then, so did the Event itself. Outlandish as her theory sounded, it did seem to explain the evidence they’d found here.

They’d discovered a small stash of body bags in one of the armoured cars and Knut agreed to let her take the body of the Spaniard – but only so far as Bex. If they didn’t have the facilities, then it would become their problem, Knut reasoned.

The nomad before Knut coughed politely, aware that the caravan’s leader hadn’t really been paying attention to him.

“Knut! People are getting worse, we need to get them through to that hospital!”

Knut nodded “I know Dominik, and you are right, yes, but...” he paused for effect, “when we get there we must convince the survivors to let us into their hospital. We will also need to convince them to use some of their precious medical supplies on us – outsiders. We cannot expect them to do that out of the goodness of their hearts!”

Dominik’s mouth dropped open, a look of confusion crossed his face. Knut understood. Dominik hadn’t adapted to this new world where help had to be bartered for. He was a good man, a kind-hearted man. It would never occur to him to ask anyone who needed his help what they could trade for it. Knut loved him for that, but as leader of the caravan, he had to be pragmatic.

“B.. but they have to...” Dominik trailed off.

“No Dominik, they don’t,” Knut smiled ruefully. “It’s not like it was before. These people don’t know when or even if they will see any more medical supplies. They have to keep their own people alive, do you understand?”

Crestfallen, Dominik let out as sigh “I suppose I do – but how does this delay help us? We could roll the vehicles over those bugs and be on our way, it doesn’t help us to clear them?”

Knut nodded. “No, but it will keep us safe as we scavenge what we can from the wreckage – something to barter. Parts. Ammunition, the 50 calibres, one of the vehicles has a working radio. There are things we can salvage that we may be able to trade for the help we need.”

Even as he explained the plan it sounded callous in his ears, but he knew as the months rolled on they would be forced to loot and scavenge from the dead many times if they were to survive.

A look of resigned distaste passed over Dominik’s face.

“Whatever we have to do, but we need to do it as fast as we can. People are getting more sick with each moment we spend here.”

“Agreed!” Knut nodded. “Will you help the scavenger teams? Go with Shamus, Dmitri and the others to collect what we can once we are sure the area is safe from these grubs?” Knut asked, uncertain that Dominik would have the heart to rob the dead, as he would see it.

Dominik stood silently for a moment and then nodded. He seemed to deflate a little as he did and Knut knew then that Dominik was beginning to understand what this new world would be like, and that a little part of Dominik would die. He hated that, but he knew that if the rest of Dominik was to live, then he had to come to terms with how the world was changing.

“We are clear!” Joanas’s voice came over the radio, “Your scavengers can begin.”

“You are sure?” Knut was keenly aware that Joanas had swept the area for threats once before, and didn’t spot the grubs. He was wrestling with the idea of bringing this up when the German seemed to read his mind.

“This time I am sure. I missed them before because I wasn’t looking for bugs!” he sounded angry. “I checked for IEDs near the vehicles, but these were further out, here I only looked for men with guns and for vehicles.” Joanas continued. He was angry, Knut realised, but not at the caravan leader for questioning his thoroughness, at himself for not seeing the grubs, to begin with. To be fair, in the dark, with everything else that he had been watching for, a half a dozen small, dead creatures littering the road would have been easy to overlook.

They would all have to be more careful in future.

“Okay, salvage teams GO!” Knut called into the night. Half a dozen nomads ran for the vehicles to strip them of anything they could. Ammunition, MRE’s - the Meals Ready to Eat issued by the UN’s Counter Alien Incursion Force,- first aid kits, spare weapons, working radios. Anything they could strip quickly.

“Kurt, get on the radio and see if there is any sign of the strike team yet!” Knut slapped the German corporal on the shoulder as he returned from the sweep and clear mission.

“Jawhol!” Kurt nodded, jogging back to the MRAP he had reluctantly left in the hands of one of the other nomads whilst he’d helped his sergeant sweep for live grubs.

“What do you need me to do?” Dominik asked the priest as he clambered into the ruins of the armoured personnel carrier. Father Businger seemed to be pre-occupied and Dominik realised he was staring up at Ember who was trying to free the big 50 calibre machine gun from the mounting.

“It’s stuck!” she called down. “The impact has buckled part of the housing. I don’t think it’s damaged the weapon, but if I can get it out one of you gun-bunnies can have a look and tell me!”

Father Businger wasn’t entirely sure what a “Gun-Bunny” was. Ember had taken to using the term for anyone that seemed to know what they were doing around firearms. He assumed it was some slang term she had picked up in her native England. Or perhaps from the endless American movies and TV that had washed over most of the western world before the Event.

“Can I help?” Dominik asked, drawing closer,

“Pass me a five-pound mash out of my tool box!” Ember called, reaching down and waggling her fingers expectantly.

“A what?” Father Businger asked.

“I know!” Dominik smiled, kneeling down he lifted what looked like a small sledgehammer with a foreshortened handle from Embers tool box and lifted it up to her.

“Here!” he said.

“Chears M’dears!” she called down. “Now stand back while I introduce Mister Happy hammer to Mister Stubborn weapon housing!”

There were three solid sounding bangs of metal on metal before Ember handed the hammer back down.

“That should do it. I can get at it with the spanner now! You boys want to get the radio out the front while I rescue your boomstick?”

“Will do,” Dominik answered, his English was almost flawless. Although he was Austrian he had learned English as a child in school and had spent several years at university in Durham, in England. It had loaned his English a very faint north-east accent that was actually more pronounced than his Austrian one. A fact that always made Ember giggle a little. She had been trying to get him to say “Whey Aye man, Canny like” for the last two weeks, but he was having none of it.

Taking a look at the radio housing Dominik nodded. “Father can you pass me another adjustable spanner from Ember’s toolkit?” he asked as he flicked a few switches absently to see if the set still worked.

“Roger that 3-7 we have air assets moving in on your position now, ETA...” startled, Dominik jumped back, his eyes wide and mouth agape as the radio seemed to spring briefly to life, the rest of the message was drowned out by static. The message had been faint and hard to make out, but it had been in English and sounded like an UNCAIF transmission.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yes!” Father Businger offered weakly, “Yes, I did.”

“Go and get Knut!” Dominik suggested.

“Yes, yes of course!”

“Still nothing, sir!” Kurt called to Knut, leaning out of the MRAP’s open door. He’d been trying to raise the strike team that they’d sent to take care of the source of the alien spores, but was getting nothing.

Knut nodded,

“They may still be under radio silence.” he hoped he was right. The two groups had been separated now for longer than he liked, but he had no way of knowing how long it would take the strike team to replace and destroy their target.

“KNUT!” Father Businger called, “You have to come and hear this!” The clergyman was leaning out of the back of the armoured personnel carrier and waving a torch. Whatever he wanted Knut to hear, it seemed to have excited him.

“What is it?” Knut asked breathlessly as he reached the APC, above him, he could see Embers boots dangling as she emitted a long string of expletives and grunts.

“The radio!” Father Businger pointed, “Dominik was trying to get it from its housing and we heard a transmission!”

“Other survivors?” Knut asked

“It sounded military!” Dominik said as he fiddled with the radio, trying to re-capture the transmission, “And it was in English. Very faint, but it was there. Something about an air strike, or airlift?”

“Where?” Knut asked, excitedly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, it didn’t say – or if it did, then I couldn’t hear it over the static. There was a lot of static.”

“Why didn’t Kurt hear it in the MRAP?” Knut asked.

“It was on a UN channel!” Father Businger explained. “We are using civilian channels now, we monitor the military ones when we can, but we didn’t want to clog them with our chatter. If he is still trying to raise the strike team, then he won’t be tuned to the UN frequencies and wouldn’t have heard it.”

“I can’t get it back!” Dominik cursed, “I don’t understand... wait. I think..”

“...ul back 3-7, we have you covered from the air, Cas-evac is now air bound with your casualties, withdraw to co-ords...” the static again.

“Mein Gott!” Dominik gasped “There is someone still fighting close enough that we can just about hear them! Do I call them?”

“NO!” Father Businger barked, a little more sharply than he had intended. “No, not yet. They are heavily engaged, or so it sounds. Keep track of the frequency. We will monitor it for now and call them once things seem a little less... exciting for them.”

“Agreed!” Knut nodded, “Now we know they are out there we can call them later as long as we know the frequency. Right now we need to get as much as we can out of these vehicles and get back on the road. We must hope something we replace is worth trading for the medical help we need.”

“How about this little Beauty?” Ember asked, her grease stained face split with a slightly self – satisfied smile. In her arms, she cradled the APC’s 50 calibre.

“Do we have any ammunition for it?” Knut began to sound excited again.

“Oh yes, we do” Father Businger pointed to the belt and boxes of 50 calibre ammunition he had retrieved earlier.

“That might just do it!” Knut grinned.