Scavengers

By Alessandra Melville

The year is 2088. A virus has killed countless people and the world swelters in a relentless heat wave. In a small, isolated compound in Australia, Olivia Taylor volunteers to search for meat and other humans outside the secure walls of her home. Accompanied by four other teenagers, Olivia sets off from the presence of her changed mother, Grace, and embarks on a trek into the dangerous bush and sun-scorched wilderness outside the Community. As they encounter new lives, face adversaries, find old acquaintances, and run into death, Olivia and her team struggle a triumphant return to their home.
In the latter point of view, Olivia's mother, Mrs Taylor, explains how her family met trouble on their journey in the aftermath of the outbreak. With her two daughters, husband, and the neighboring family, Grace forces herself to swallow heartbreak and pain, and the soldier on for the sake of survival. In the beginning days of the Community's formation, Grace battles with bickering companions, a hardened heart, and a never-ending determination to make it to another day.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: May 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781786934659

Alessandra Melville

Alessandra spent the first twelve years of her life living in China, Singapore, Thailand and Perth before returning back to Sydney, Australia. When she isn't writing or day dreaming up stories, Alessandra likes to explore the outdoors whenever possible, usually with a trusty pooch by her side.

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About the Author

Alessandra spent the first twelve years of her life living in China, Singapore, Thailand and Perth before returning back to Sydney, Australia. When she isn’t writing or day dreaming up stories, Alessandra likes to explore the outdoors whenever possible, usually with a trusty pooch by her side.

Peter and Jacqui, thank you for making my dream come true.

Alessandra Melville

Scavengers

Copyright © Alessandra Melville (2017)

The right of Alessandra Melville to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781786934642 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781786934659 (E-Book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2017)

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Olivia’s Tale

As the cloud of ash dissipated, the remnants of what we were left with came to light. The abundance of nearly week-old flesh filled not only our noses but mouths as well. Squinting through the growing crowd, I noticed not only massive amounts of bones and flesh that once resembled people, but the scavengers seeking nourishment. This weekly ritual was tortuous at best, but without it the, Community would no doubt crumble into chaos. Punishment was one of the first methods of madness that flourished when the sane became desperate.

It is depressing to say not only myself, but what remains of my family have become used to this type of brutality, before I would have keeled over at the sight of roadkill, let alone gauged out eyes of the Community’s meat trader baking in the exhausting heat. Attendance was mandatory, one of the many strictly enforced laws the Community had created to maintain order, well, the closest we could come to order in what remained of society. A husky voice echoed throughout the crowd, it sent shivers of fear racing through my blood.

Welcome Community! It is a glorious Sunday, is it not?

The voice reverberated off the concrete walls. There was no need to look for the face it came from, I knew it all too well. I peeped around the shoulder in front of me, scouring the faces for the one I wished to see, but she was late again.

Now to the judgement at hand, last week’s trial saw Mr Turner found guilty of stealing the Community’s meat, as we can see his body has been devoured by every rodent imaginable.

The voice exclaimed loudly, pleasure and content expressed with every word. Once, the owner of the voice had been a shy, timid mouse of a woman, but recent years had turned everyone into shadows of their former selves.

On trial this Sunday are Mr Turner’s beloved wife and daughter.

The voice boomed with smugness and desire, these weekly punishments had been her brain child, determined to seek her own form of justice.

They knew that Mr Turner had stolen our meat, but yet, they decided not to turn him in. This cannot be taken lightly.

As the voice trailed on, I began to worry. Not for Mr Turner’s family, their fate had been decided long before this judgement. Instead, I fretted for Eloise, my dearest and longest surviving friend. She was late today for the third time this month. I hoped it would go unnoticed. My eyebrows moved closer together and there was a thick bead of sweat making its way down my back. I gulped, knowing the punishment Eloise would receive if anyone realised she wasn’t here. As my mind began to spin, a sharp nail clawed me in the shoulder. I spun around as quickly as my body would allow in such cramped quarters, hand on the knife in my pocket.

Jesus, Olivia, no need for knives.

Eloise’s comforting eyes eased my stress immediately. Her unusual beauty was not only striking, but a curse in itself, she was the centre of every man’s most hidden fantasies and every woman’s worst nightmare. Her caramel skin glowed even in the most haunting of places, her piercing emerald eyes contrasted her liquorice black hair, but yet Eloise was completely unaware of her effect on men and woman alike.

So, fill me in, who’s meeting their maker today?

Eloise’s words slipped out with the greatest of ease, after perhaps nearly a decade of this savagery our youthful naivety was a thing of the past.

The Turner family.

I didn’t bother looking at Eloise as I spoke. My eyes were locked on Isabella Turner. Not yet thirteen, she wasn’t handling the trial well. Her screams sent even the harshest of people running to console her tiny body.

The environment we had found ourselves in was perfect for an abundance of things to grow and prosper, disease, hatred, strength and powerful men. Isabella and her family had none of the strength but all the disease and hatred. As we tuned back in to the proceedings, I realised Mrs Turner was doing the unthinkable, fighting back. The ever-present voice cut out Mrs Turner’s pleas. She chuckled.

Mrs Turner, you’re embarrassing yourself. Do you really wish your daughter to see you this way? She paused to stare into the crowd, searching for a particular face.

Judgement will be much easier if you accept your guilt. Especially on Isabella. She smirked. I felt her dark snake eyes beaming into my own similarly snake-like eyes. Mrs Turner had once been a valued member of the Community. Everyone went to the herbalist, she could ease cramps or stop an infection spreading with leaves she found in the bush. But now, as she knelt on her well-padded knees in front of people she once cured, surely knowing these were her last few minutes, she remained fearless in the face of death.

As the sun bore down, judgement continued. I craned my neck towards the hazy sky. Even through the thick layer of cloud, the sun still managed to burn everyone’s skin. As the morning turned to afternoon, whilst blisters formed on my sunburnt back, the Turner family’s punishment had been decided.

Your mum is getting worse, Olivia.

Eloise gave me a sympathetic look. She knew my mother when she had been kind and gentle, the type of mother you take for granted. Now, part dictator, part sociopath, I barely remembered the days of goodnight kisses and tea parties.

Mrs Gemma Turner, bow your head in shame. You have been found guilty of enabling a thief and lying to the Community. You have been sentenced to exile. May you wander through this doomed world alone, kept company by only your thoughts.

My mother took great pride in speaking these words. The whole crowd became immediately anxious. Exile? Nobody had been exiled in close to three years, death would have been sweeter than exile. Mrs Turner kept her eyes focused on Isabella, cooing, It’s okay, Belle. But the young girl screeched and clawed at her chains, desperate for her mother’s touch. With one swift motion, Mrs Turner’s body was hauled off the rickety platform and dragged writhing through the crowd, and as the Community gates slowly opened with great difficulty, Mrs Turner yelled one last time to her daughter.

Now, back to dear little Isabella.

Mother flicked her head sharply back, ignoring the crowd’s anger and cries for mercy. She caressed Isabella’s tear-soaked cheek, kneeling down to eye level. I saw a glimpse of the woman I once knew and loved.

No meat for one year. If I find you scavenging or begging others for even rat meat, I will personally remove each and every one of your fingers.

Isabella would be lucky to make it one month without any meat, in this sweltering heat, berries and rice barely filled a baby. It would be a slow and painful death for Isabella, if she was brave enough, she would end her own suffering with a swift slice of her wrists. Sadly, this wasn’t the harshest punishment Mother had given out lately. The rising temperatures and the dwindling stockpile of food had turned her barbaric. Before the Community was born, every woman here would have broken down, bargained with every chip they had to free Mrs Turner and Isabella, now, we stand here in anger, but knowing all pleads would go unnoticed.

Please, take her away now.

With a flick of her hand, Isabella was too dragged off the platform, into the arms of nobody. She truly was on her own now, just like the rest of us.

My knees and ankles creaked, my patience was wearing thin, and I so desperately wanted to shriek as loud as my body would allow, to escape this madness. Surely the outside of these walls held more than the inside ever would.

One more thing for today, Community. As you all should be aware, it is June 1st. We are running out of food. It is time for a scavenge run.

What do you think?

Eloise’s eyes lit up. Every teenager in the Community was eager to prove themselves with the scavenge run. Eloise and I had missed out the last two years, but I was determined this was my year.

All eligible youths report to myself and Mr Garner after proceedings today.

Mother’s voice trailed off, even the heat was weakening her temper.

Let’s do this.

It’s not like it happened suddenly or without warning. For years, decades in fact, great minds had been preaching the affects to anyone who would listen. My father had been one of those great minds. But their words fell on deaf ears. I was ten when it turned from a future issue, to a reality. My winter birthday was spent frantically seeking relief from the sun. A heat wave had randomly hit, and it never ended.

As I trudged towards the main hall, I distinctly remember my tenth birthday. The happiness practically radiated from my mother, her little girl, all grown up. We danced, sung, played in the sprinklers and ate cake until we were bursting at the seams. It was the last time I felt true, child-like excitement. As we gathered in the main hall, it became apparent that our numbers were seriously falling, last June saw nearly twenty youths volunteer for the run, now we barely made double digits.

Is everyone dying or something? Eloise joked.

It’s like there is a disease killing people? I smirked back, even in the most horrible of circumstances, we had to find a moment to laugh.

Looking around the hall, I saw once beautiful girls with scars covering most of their limbs, boys so hard not even the love of a woman could soften them, and I was so glad to have Eloise. She still resembled the girl whom I had spent countless afternoons playing hopscotch and watching cartoons, her constant grin hid her own haunted past. A thunderous clap broke my thoughts.

Children! Your Community needs you. Mr Garner bore a striking resemblance to an ogre, his head far too large for his body, wider than he was tall. He was my mother’s right hand man.

Now this year we will be sending five of you, we need meat, any perishable items, clean medical supplies and for the first-time, new members, Mr Garner boomed in his monotone voice.

Whispers whistled through the crowd, the community had never taken in new members. We are more likely to banish than expand.

Mrs Taylor will explain more. Mr Garner stood aside, my mother appeared, looking more annoyed than usual.

Calm down, silly children. She held up her hand to order silence.

This should be interesting. Eloise and I locked eyes, and for the first time in years, I felt a rush of excitement.

We are in need of strong men and women who can contribute to our wonderful Community, our numbers are dangerously low. If we wish to survive, this is our only option, she spoke methodically, as though she had rehearsed. There were still pieces of my mother left somewhere deep inside.

Those who participated last year, will not scavenge again. It was a disaster. All those who volunteered failed miserably. She scowled at them. I glimpsed towards the five boys and girls responsible. Their cheeks couldn’t get any redder, the sun had left everyone constantly a slight tomato shade. They sunk deep into each other, more scared than embarrassed. Their scavenge run had only returned a day’s worth of meat and a decent amount of bananas.

So, volunteers? Mother quipped, smiling a smile so vile it turned my stomach. Without hesitation, I shot my hand straight up,

I want to go. I watched as her face went from leader to worried mother.

So do I, Eloise cheered, her long arm stretched far higher than mine. The blood rushed quickly through my head, my heart beat so loudly it was almost deafening, I didn’t notice three others had also volunteered.

Right. All volunteers follow me. Mother clicked her fingers, pointing