Spring of this Content

By Andrew Hunt

An unseasonal storm during the Spring time batters the city, breaking communications and power within the metropolis. Nicole Nguyen, the city's Minister for Emergency Services, awakes the following day next to her sparring partner and lover, only to find the streets and businesses abandoned. Together the pair search for food and help amidst a landscape with no modern amenities, nor service from other people. However, something else has come over the city, possessing its inhabitants, making them wander the streets in a daze, groaning with their arms outstretched, trying to grasp anyone they can lay their hands upon.

"Spring of this Content" puts a slight spin on the well-beaten path of the zombie genre, providing a light commentary on politics, social media, the use of technology and the relationships we forge. Nicole must search for solutions within the mystery that shrouds the city, and perhaps come to terms with her own profession and how she relates to others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Hunt
• Release date: Nov 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370354443

Andrew Hunt

Andrew Hunt is a former public servant of two decades, having liaised and collaborated with all levels of Government. He has been instrumental in the implementation of several Government policies, including greening initiatives and working with people with disabilities. He has been an avid writer for over a decade, having had articles published in various outlets covering topics as diverse as automotive, food and travel, videogames and even martial arts. He now turns his energy and passion into being an author, ghostwriter and freelance editor, performing background work for media outlets.

Book preview

Spring of This Content

Copyright 2017 AP Hunt

Published by AP Hunt at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

About the Author

Other books by the Author

Connect with the Author

Acknowledgements

Thanks to friends and family for all their support and help. Thanks to Kristy and Rebecca for their beta-reads of this story, their continued feedback, and for tolerating my constant talking about writing. Thanks also to my wife, Michelle, for her constant support.

Prologue

The technician rummaged around his toolbox, quickly taking inventory of the items he was going to need over the next few hours. He was preparing his gear from the rear of his van in a car park that was outside a telephone exchange and data centre. It was an old building with brick the kind of beige colour that computers wore during the era in which the structure was likely built. The centre was a high-priority secure site, containing myriad locks and doors, and bordered by a fence that appeared nastier than it truly was. Wrought iron spikes pointed upward toward the darkened sky, their sharpness enough to look painful, but ultimately would only cause discomfort for anyone daring to climb over. The only entrance to the compound was a turnstile, which was locked by a magnet, allowing only one person at a time to cross into the yard. These barriers were of no concern to to the technician. His his job required him to regularly visit the data centre, so he was a familiar face to the security staff, and his entry required only a smile and a hello.

He took a moment to glance up at the sky. There was a storm approaching, and it was descending upon the city with a remarkable and surprising ferocity and haste. Edges of dark clouds swirled upward from their base, as though the billows of condensation were harvesting the very air they rode upon.

The technician had seen a number of storms throughout his time in this city, but this one seemed larger than most. Telecommunications needed to be maintained for emergencies, and this data centre and exchange was an important hub in the city’s veins of voice and data. He gathered all his necessary tools into a tool sack and slung the weight over his shoulder, making the items inside clank as they bounced off his hip. He had a job to do, although the plans he had were different to the tasks for which he would normally visit the centre.

He pressed the intercom button to call the security desk, the vibrato monotone from the speaker was familiar in its lack of enthusiasm. Knowing that the security desk could see him via a Closed Circuit TV, he looked up at the camera expectantly, offering a pleasant smile to whoever was viewing him.

Heya! came a lady’s voice through the speaker box, and the turnstile let out a dull, metallic sound to confirm that the magnetic latch had released. The technician pushed through, letting the metal grate catch on the magnetic latch behind him, as he began to trek over to the main building through the compound. As he reached the door to the building it opened automatically, the security guard clearly familiar with the technician from the multiple visits he made to the data centre.

More work? came a voice from the opposite side of the room; a young woman wearing the uniform of a security guard. She was behind a clear layer of perspex that had holes machined into it, as though whichever security guard on duty was a reptilian pet. He knew this guard, a young twenty-something named Justine who had been doing security work for only a few years. She was relatively green, so to speak, compared to the decades that the technician had been working.

Big storm coming, the technician said to Justine, Just gotta be sure it all stays up and working.

The security guard checked her list of appointments for the data centre, perusing the names slowly while tracing her finger down the page. She repeated the motion a couple times, I don’t actually see you on here she said as she searched, releasing each word of the sentence tentatively.

The technician shrugged, I don’t know what to tell you. I was called up and sent here, just like usual. It was a simple tactic for him to get in; feign ignorance and then rely upon the familiarity with the guard to have them bend the rules – just this once. Always just once.

Justine again passed over the list of the names, You know, I think I’ll just let you in and call up the company to check. You know what you’re doing.

The technician smiled to her, welcoming her allowance, Thanks a lot. With the storm coming, I should get this done quickly.

Justine nodded and returned with her own smile, I’m not going to be held accountable for holding up the person who needs to keep the show running. She said, pressing a button on the underside of the desk at which she was sitting, a click sounding from a door to the side of the room as it unlatched.

The technician gathered up his tools and pushed through the door. He liked how this city was still quite relaxed about issues such as security and control. It wasn’t a large city. It had all the bustle of a metropolis, but still the kind of familiarity that is typically found in small country towns. It did give the city an air of awkwardness, as though it was a teenager just finding out about their own identity but not knowing what on earth to do about it except aping what other cities were doing. But in the meantime, the technician’s familiarity with Justine’s familiarity with his situation, although he knew that he might later need to do something about getting the paperwork done to justify why he was on the site without a callout.

But that was a problem for after the storm. Not now.

Chapter One

The Press Room was full, bubbling away with fervent activity, heads of journalists bobbing up and down and turning to each other to talk. There was a nervous energy in the room, coupled with the typical ravenous noises not dissimilar to that of a pond full of piranhas, each individual turning to review their surrounds, primed to feed. Everyone was waiting for their address from Nicole Nguyen, the Minister in charge of Emergency Services.

There was a storm approaching the city. It was an unusual occurrence at this time of year, with the trees defecating pollen throughout the parks, and flowers springing from any orifice in the pavement that dared to let nature peek out. The approaching storm would likely soon dispatch such petals, blowing them into the various corners around buildings, or simply snapping the stems off at their bases. Many would attribute the pending storm with the omnipresent demon of climate change, and Nicole had read enough comments sections on news sites to understand that the ire was typically fired without consideration for the bigger issues; ie that there was a deadly storm actually approaching.

And arrive it would, and people would know about it even without the need for this press conference.

Nicole smoothed the jacket of her suit slowly, and tucked her long hair behind her ear, getting her presentation correct. Her advisers had instructed her to not have any jewellery visible, but her hair still needed to be maintained. She had to strike that right balance between looking like she was making an effort, but not too much of an effort so as to be seen as focussing on superficial things.

The atmosphere in the room began to grow. Nicole could feel it. She was the veteran of numerous press encounters like this, even for emergency situations similar to this one, but the anomalous nature of the storm’s approach – during springtime – had made the media hungry for a story that didn’t have a benign headline such as, Rain falls on city. Sky to blame. The media wanted something more. They wanted a bigger boogeyman.

Nicole steeled herself for facing the pack, changing her facial expression to one of concern, but not stressed - a leader who could take an onslaught but who still conveyed a vulnerability to the situation at hand. In all likelihood, Nicole knew that the storm would hit, cause some mayhem and then be fixed with an astute pace. Afterward the memory of the grim disaster would fade within a matter of weeks. But the journalists wanted their drama now, and it was something that she would give with typical gravity.

She stepped from behind the curtain and started to walk to the lectern, the sound of snapping shutters hid the sound of her heels on the floor, and flashes filled the air in the room, strobing the walls. The room retained a quiet respect for her as she stood before her podium, and Nicole took a moment to acknowledge the person who would be hand-signing the press conference for members of the audience who had a hearing impairment. She looked about the dozens of faces, most of them familiar and wearing an expectant look. The younger ones had a tinge of worry on their faces, but the older ones had a veneer of stoicism, having likely seen similar events to this one, and who were well versed in the city’s resilience to such potential disasters.

Nicole gripped the lectern with both hands and leaned in a little before starting, Hello everyone. I will not keep you all for very long, as I know you all have families and loved ones to get to. Nicole spoke with an official air. She had groomed this tone over many years of public service, particularly as a serving Minister, able to carry her own confidence when such a tone was required. She could also expertly soften her voice to sound concerned, which could make her more approachable for times she needed to relate to people. That was a voice she knew she would need to reserve for after the storm had passed, and for when the repair effort would begin. But for now, she needed to be an official.

Tropical Cyclone Gerald will be making landfall at around eight o’clock this evening. It has been classified as Category two, with winds up to one hundred and sixty kilometres an hour and gusts up to a hundred and eighty. Emergency services are on standby, and we are making all efforts to ensure that all infrastructure remains operational throughout the course of the storm. Our crews are very courageous and brave and we send our thanks to them. Nicole paused for a moment to allow the signer to catch up to her words. The signer signalled her appreciation to Nicole with a nod and a nervous smile. Replying with her own nod, Nicole continued, We advise all residents to stay indoors and away from windows during this time. Please secure any items that could become potential missiles, and please keep all pets indoors. This storm is a once-in-a-lifetime event, particularly for our state, so we caution everyone to remain off the roads and to stay inside somewhere safe. Stay out of the elements, everyone. Good luck to you all.

Nicole again paused to allow the sign language to catch up.

Now, I know most of you would like to get out of here, but if you have any questions I am happy to address any concerns now. But please understand that my responses will be brief. Nicole sounded grave, adding weight to her words to emphasise the serious nature of the approaching beast. She looked out over the group of faces, and noticed a few rising hands. Nicole nodded to a nearby woman she recognised as Olivia from The Daily Recorder, a small but notable publication that appealed to a younger demographic. At previous conferences, Olivia had been dressed in a formal manner, but Nicole noted her casual attire on this occasion, more suited to comfort than business – which was completely understandable given the subject of the press conference.

Gerald, as you said, is a once-in-a-lifetime storm, Olivia began, Are you certain that the city is properly prepared?

Nicole paused, as if to think about her reply. She already had a reply in her mind, having pre-empted such a question prior to the conference, but she didn’t want to give the impression that she was dismissive.

This storm is a severity of which we haven’t witnessed before in the past fifty years, Nicole said with gravity, A number of personnel are at the ready to set up recovery centres for people displaced by the storm, and emergency crews are on standby for any serious events that occur. I have great faith in the people of our great city and state, and I am sure that everything will be back up and running at a quick pace.

Olivia sat down, and the room erupted into noise as more questions were dealt toward Nicole. Another journalist stood up, a man who was also familiar to Nicole but not only for the professional relationship. Unlike Olivia before him, he was dressed in a more business-like attire – and certainly more dressed than other times that she had seen him. A knowing smile came over her face, Hello Nathan. She said. Nathan was the Political Correspondent for