Back to the past

[edwin]

"At last, some decent scoff", George thought as he sat next to the fire and watched over the bubbling venison stew. Watching the figures in the flames he felt secure enough to spoil his night sight as the guards were out.

How different this night in the woods was from life as a librarian, dreaming of life in the wild and in the past. You got used to feeling grubby but a shower would be nice. Glorious summer back then and a nice little reenacting meet with friends. Away from home where he lived alone except for his dog. Camping was great and a bit of a drink in the evening while the sweat from sword fighting and wielding a bow cooled. Beat sweating on a beach somewhere looking at pretty ladies from under half closed eyes.

He never knew what disaster had changed everything in every respect but rumours mentioned EMP, plague even zombies but he had never met one apart from those sad souls whom disaster had robbed of all life except the bare ability to just keep walking until they collapsed. All he did know was the warning of a state of emergency on someone's smart phone, commands and pleas to keep calm and carry on then nothing and cars failing and panic and a coming together of that group that remained when others had fled, desperate to get home.

[edwin]

The coincidence of being with a group of reenactors when the the literal really had hit the fan was something he never could get over. There they were in a wood, near the sea with bows, axes, swords and knives and training in using them, to an extent. Some blunt weapons used for pretend fighting had been sharpened but a surprising number had properly sharp stuff in their packs and cars along with functional sharps. After a raid by some drunk bikers they had organised and even the children were armed.

Most who were old enough to run about had always "played" with assorted weaponry at historical events and took to the strictures that were necessary from the carrying of things that could do harm with almost frightening seriousness. Those that could pull them all had a bow, even a light fifteen pound pull one could ruin someone's day. Being shot with an arrow with a sharpened point in an era with no medical aid was something most people would avoid. Knives were ubiquitous and several had longer swords or hatchets on their belts. Child soldiers might have been illegal in the world before the disaster but were normal now.

[edwin]

"what have we here?" The unexpected loud voice startled us as we sat, carelessly around the fire in the wood we had chosen as our temporary home. Standing on one side of our clearing were several men. Rough doesn't describe how they looked but rougher were the hammers, knives and sticks held in dirty hands. Caught on the hop we realised too late that our gear and weapons were back in our shelters. "Complacent clots!" My brain shouted at me as the ragged band came over to us grabbing a bannock while tipping over the chair in which our oldest member, Granny Shipton, sat. Brutal laughter rang out as we desperately thought what to do.

"Thunk!" With a scream the biggest and the ugliest of the thugs straightened up and grabbed his bum from which an arrow had sprouted. The group turned and stopped lookind at our troop of children lined up at the other side of the clearing. Bows raised and the fielight glinting off arrowheads. A shrill piping voice of an eleven year-old called "Jim's troop loose" and four arrows sped across at our assailants. One in an eye two in legs and one miss that nearly took my ear off. Enraged the unwounded crossed towards the kids. "Bill's troop loose" and all four arrows thudded home bringing the rush to a halt. We, the careless adults, had got to our shelters and grabbed anything sharp. Spinning, I lunged to catch a grimy greybeard clean in the chest who dropped his hatchet and then himself. More a slaughter than a fight the rest died easy but hard. Our brutality inspired by the panic we had felt led to overkill until we called halt.

Lessons learnt to be more vigilant and that we couldn't shield children from the new realities. Recovering from the shock of the night for a time the kids were insufferable at having saved our bacon.