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Confederate States of Australia – A New Home

July 15th, 2008 - 9:11am

     For three days after the meeting, Yakov barely saw his father. He was so busy he barely saw anyone. As Yakov made his way toward the Meeting Point for all beginning the Rite, he mind wandered. Would he find anything? In which direction should he head? Did it even matter?

     At the Meeting Point, the crowd still argued. They sounded like squawking birds to Yakov; he knew the arguments and didn’t care to get involved. He was going, regardless of the outcome. The others about to embark on the Rite were nervous; they gazed at the ground, shifting their heavy packs and shuffling their feet. Yakov knew the odds of finding what they sought, and had resolved to find it anyway. The wind picked up and whipped through the crowd, causing Yakov to pull his coat tight; even the Earth was concerned.

     Goodbyes were short and without ceremony. The mood was somber and, in response, the heavens opened with a steady downpour. Yakov headed inland hoping he may escape the rain. For two days he and another traveled before parting ways. The rain persisted; days passed. Since separating from his companion Yakov had seen no signs of inhabitation. Soaked to the core, he decided to camp for a day to take stock — he needed to start rationing to survive. Basic training for those undergoing the Rite had been forgone in haste; Yakov had not been taught how to ration or even how to weild his father’s gun, despite having just six bullets.

     Sheltered in a house with partly intact but blackened walls, Yakov camped for two nights. On the third morning the rain stopped and morning light shining through the windows woke him. Spirits high, Yakov walked with a spring in his step for the next week; gaps between houses grew as he made his way to the edge of suburbia and into the badlands. Tired but resolute, Yakov pressed on. Approaching the top of a hill one afternoon, Yakov heard a sound he would later describe as the town’s attack warning siren, crossed with gas being passed. Further down, Yakov recognised the source of the strange noise as a cow, he had never seen one in person. There were dozens of them beside a small group of ramshackle houses.

     Nearing the complex, Yakov was startled by a voice from behind a cow.
     “Hello?” The voice was feminine but gruff.
     “Uh, hi,” Yakov replied, voice crackling from misuse, “where am I?”
     “My name’s Jane, thanks for asking.” Yakov was smitten instantly. Jane was short and her cheekbones were gaunt; auburn hair fell around her face, just like his mother’s.

     Yakov was tolerated by the commune; because he showed aptitude for repairing machinery, some even welcomed him as time passed. Soon, Yakov realised the commune’s isolation was not it’s best asset, they grew their own food! Weeks later, Yakov overstepped his bounds and asked to sleep in Jane’s room. Once notified, the community leaders demanded he leave there and then.

     He had failed; the journey home was long.

Tags: confederate states of australia, part 3