Mother Gum pulled her shawl higher around her shoulders as she reclined in her seat, a biscuit perched on the edge of her own saucer. “Where did you come from, darlings?”
“Evandale. And that’s actually part of the reason why we stopped here…” Briefly, Clare told Mother Gum about the thanites, the medical nanobot invention that had been designed to treat disease but had gone rogue. How it had lived in the air and, upon activation, had infected human hosts and indiscriminately grown stem cells that caused drastic mutations.
She finished by saying, “There are scientists who think they can treat it. They think that destructing the thanites will kill the hollows. If you have a radio, I can give you the frequency to listen for updates.”
“I’d like that.” Mother Gum had listened patiently to the story, though Clare wasn’t sure how much she had understood. The gentle, unchanging smile reminded Clare of the way her aunt Marnie had smiled when Clare talked about technology. She liked being part of the conversation, but the intricacies were beyond her.
Clare cleared her throat. Even though the house held an intimate atmosphere with just her, Dorran, Mother Gum, and the cat, she couldn’t shake the memory of the surly children outside, who appeared almost too tall and thin. “I hope it’s okay to ask, but… has anyone here… changed at all? Started to grow things, I mean?”
She recalled the blank stares that seemed to hold echoes of the hollows’ incomprehension. Their arms held limply at their sides. Their sullen features. The infection might not have been severe enough to strip their humanity immediately, but Beth was proof that it would continue to degrade a person with each passing day. She didn’t want to imagine the sweet Mother Gum being torn apart by the brood she loved.
Mother Gum only chuckled, though. “Oh, don’t you worry, my pretty. My children aren’t like those monsters outside. They don’t like strangers, and they don’t like letting new people into our home, but they’re all good souls deep down.”
“But…” Clare took a gulp of the tea to buy herself seconds. “But if they’re changing at all…”
“You worry so much.” Mother Gum reached across the table and patted Clare’s hand. “You’re a sweet girl. But my children are all right. I only had eight to begin with. They were all away, working in the farms or hunting in the forest, on the day it happened. Some were more than an hour away. When they returned late that night, they told me about the things they had seen. And I said, ‘We need to close the gate, and we won’t be going back out for a while.’ The others—the ones I didn’t bring into the world myself—they came later. Visitors who were trying to run from the outside, who were lost and scared, and who just needed a place to stay. It is so hard to turn anyone away.”
“Oh.” Clare let herself relax again. The thanites’ density had been controlled by how many people lived in an area. Cities had been swarmed with them; rural areas, not so much. Eight people spread across kilometres would still have gotten a dose of the thanites—but probably not much more than Clare herself had.
“Our fence keeps us safe,” Mother Gum continued. “And my children know how to kill the strange ones before they grow close. They only really come at night. It is secure here. A good home.”
“Are you doing okay for food?” Clare asked.
“Oh, yes, yes. We have a garden behind the shed. We eat well.”
“Good.”
“What about you, my lovely? Where are you heading?”
“Home.” She and Dorran had made a point of keeping Winterbourne’s location a secret. Even though they wanted to open it up to outsiders once it was stabilised, they couldn’t risk raids or hungry visitors before the garden was established and the defences were in place. “Another couple of days from here.”
“Do you need any bits and bobs for the trip?” The watery eyes blinked dozily.
“Oh…” They had come with the hope of finding fuel, but seeing how basic Mother Gum’s home was, Clare didn’t feel comfortable asking. She swallowed. “We’re all right. I mean, if you know anywhere nearby that might have petrol, that would be a big help—”
“Don’t worry about that, my sweet. We have petrol here. Take a few cartons.”
“Are you sure?” She looked between Dorran and Mother Gum. “You probably need it yourself—”
“Not since we can’t travel to the farms.” Mother Gum flapped a hand to wave away her concerns. “There’s nothing we need fuel for except the tractors. You’ll be able to use it, and this way, it won’t go bad.”
“Oh. Thank you so much. It would really be a huge help.” Clare felt strangely giddy. She grinned at Dorran, but his smile was brief.
“Henry will take you.” Mother Gum twisted in her seat to face the door. “Henry?”
One of the gormless young adults appeared in the doorway. His hair hung to his shoulders, greasy and limp, and he didn’t return any of their smiles.
“He’s a sweet boy,” Mother Gum said to Clare. “Henry, take our new friends to the shed and fetch them some fuel. You know where it is.”
He turned and disappeared outside without waiting for them.
“Thank you so much,” Clare repeated, standing. The chair’s awkward height had cut off part of the circulation to her legs, and she had to catch herself on the table’s edge. Dorran gave the orange cat a wide berth as he accompanied Clare to the door.
“I’ll pack you some biscuits for the rest of your drive,” Mother Gum said. She folded her hands in front of herself, beaming. “Make sure you pick them up before you leave.”
Chapter Six
Henry had nearly disappeared around the building’s corner, and Clare hurried to catch up with him. More faces watched her from the weed-choked yard.
What an odd family. How did so many people end up living here? She supposed, in the silent world, any kind of safe home would be highly sought after. And Mother Gum was very sweet. The idea of joining the family could be tempting for someone who didn’t have one of their own.
Henry led Clare and Dorran towards the third building in the compound: the roughly built wooden barn. He shoved the door, forcing it open, and stepped back for Clare and Dorran to enter.
“Clare,” Dorran said.
Having already stepped over the threshold, she turned to face him. He looked conflicted. Henry waited, frowning slightly, and after a second, Dorran also stepped inside.
“Is something wrong?” Clare whispered.
He shook his head.
Clare had enjoyed talking with Mother Gum, but now, all of the earlier anxiety returned. Something was bothering Dorran, and she knew better than to doubt his instincts. She kept close to his side as Henry stepped around them, moving towards the back wall.
A thick, unpleasant scent filled the shed. A mix of spilt oil, decaying hay, and rotting food, Clare thought. She pressed her sleeve over her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. It was strong enough to make her dizzy. There was no light in the shed. She relied on the hazy glow from the open door to see the contents. Beams and benches, sack cloths, barrels, machines. Nests of shadow and dust. Henry didn’t seem bothered, at least. He stopped at the back wall and pointed towards metal cans stacked on a shelf.