Age of Z: A Tale of Survival (10 page)

“Geez, I didn't mean it that way, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, I just–y'know what? Take two. My name's Alexa. Nice to meet you.” And she stuck out her hand.

The other figure hesitated for a moment, but then slowly reached out to shake. “I am Piotr,” he introduced himself. “And your companion...?”

Alexa was about to introduce her friend, but Casey beat her to it. He'd drawn back into a regular stance at Alexa's warning nudge, still looking wary. But when the conversation turned to him, he hesitated only briefly before suddenly rattling off something in another language.

Alexa blinked–that didn't sound like anything
she
knew, other than the 'Casey' she'd heard somewhere in there–but Piotr looked shocked, and some of the rigidity crept slowly out of his body. He responded accordingly in the same language before switching back to English, saying, “It is a pleasant surprise, to find somebody here that speaks Russian. You are, perhaps, the most... interesting... travelers I have met in some time.”

He was markedly more friendly with them after that, portraying a calmness that was refreshing after some of the more cut-throat varieties of people Alexa had gotten used to meeting. As the man turned to draw the boat closer to the dock for their benefit, Alexa hissed under her breath, knowing Casey would hear it anyway, “What did you
do?
He was ice cold until you said... whatever!”

“I gave him a formal greeting,” Casey muttered back, leaning close enough that Alexa could still hear him. “I told him we meant no disrespect and have no intent for aggression.”

Alexa shook her head in disbelief.
Casey,
showing no intent for aggression? And when the clone had said he knew at least five languages via brain downloads, he hadn't mentioned one of them had been
Russian.
She'd figured it'd just be French and Spanish and German and the like. “Nice call,” she muttered back. The ghost of a grin passed over Casey's face, but he said nothing.

Piotr had secured the boat more firmly to the dock by now.

“Get in,” he instructed. “I will take you to the island personally and with all speed.” They obliged, tossing their packs into the bottom of the boat and clambering on afterwards.

Once they were ready, Piotr tossed in the rope as well and climbed in himself with all the ease and fluidity of the water around them, and pushed them away from the mainland docks. He took the controls, and then the craft turned quickly and shot towards the island in the distance with the same surprising speed as before. Alexa looked around, but couldn't figure out how the solar panels hooked into the engine, and finally said, “Hey, uh, Piotr–“

“You may call me Peter,” the man interrupted. “As my friends here do.”

Alexa grinned at him. “Peter it is! So, uh, how are you getting the speed? You're not even using the sails to augment the engine! How is the engine set up? And just how did you manage to get all the way here, anyway? The West Coast would have been much easier to reach from Russia.”

“The engine would take too long to explain in any real detail and as for how we got here... that, also, is a very long story.” Peter answered with a tired sigh.

Alexa looked skeptical, and opened her mouth to argue. But Casey elbowed
her
hard in the ribs, this time and glared at Alexa so hard she could almost feel the burning holes in her face. The message was clear: don't start.

Thankfully, Peter was seated at the front of the boat with his back to them as he directed the craft, and had not witnessed the exchange. Alexa covered up her pained grunt at the elbow to the ribcage with a faint, “
Okay,
” and once she'd recovered her breath, added with more genuine interest, “So, uh, things are going alright where you're from, then?”

Peter glanced over his shoulder for a moment and frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly, “Things are going very well in Russia.” The response sounded clipped, guarded, and just slightly bitter.

Alexa winced. “Ah. Uh. Sorry. Didn't mean to like, pry or anything...”

But Peter shook his head. “My apologies. I did not mean to be curt with you. Russian politics have been...
strained
... of late.” After a moment of hesitation, he added more softly, “Most of my people believe our isolationist policy is to our benefit and live comfortably enough, as though the world is not dying. But not all of us agree that this is right.”

“I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that's why you're hanging around New Avalon?”

“Yes. I, and a few others, have left at the behest of our faction and are hoping to make a difference.” Peter sighed, and glanced back over his shoulder, this time towards the ruined skyline. “Though I fear we may have made the decision a bit too late.”

“Better late than never,” Alexa told him, with a cheer that wasn't entirely forced. Beside her, Casey nodded quietly.

They switched to lighter topics for a short time, as Peter guided the craft closer to the island. Alexa enthusiastically asked about how things worked in his country, which the Russian answered with patience and occasional amusement, and he in turn asked questions about America–what it had been like before, and what it was like now.

Casey, for the most part, remained quiet, although he occasionally volunteered his own opinions or observations on the things he'd seen since being woken. Not that either of them mentioned
that
part.

Then at last they had arrived. Peter carefully shifted the boat up next to the docks that lead up to the town. He helped them out of the boat, handing them their packs carefully, and then leaped up onto the docks after them one last time to say his farewells.

“I have been working in concert with New Avalon and its leaders for several months now, as have my companions,” he told them. “It has been the most agreeable and accepting colony we have found so far, and it suits us. We will be here for some time yet. I do not know how long the two of you intend to remain here, but if you require assistance in the future–perhaps transportation to a safer part of the Coast–do not hesitate to ask.”

“Wow, Peter, that's real nice of you,” Alexa said. “Not that I don't appreciate it, but any reason why?”

Peter shrugged. “Adapting to the new world has been... difficult,” he explained. “It is no wonder; your people are frightened and worn, and most of them distrust us because they believe we abandoned them. It has been a pleasure to meet travelers with a more positive outlook on life.”

Well, that certainly explained the wariness earlier. Peter had probably been expecting ranting or outright rejection from weary, frightened travelers. “Oh. Well, y'know. Anytime!”

Peter chuckled. “It has been good to meet you, Alexa,” he said, and then said something to Casey in Russian. Casey responded in kind, and Peter nodded before leaping back to his boat, with ease. The boat turned in the water and moved off to return to patrolling a moment later, leaving them standing alone.

“Okay,” Alexa said, “That was pretty cool. Now I really can't wait to talk to my friend here, I've got a lot more questions for him then I first thought.” She shouldered her pack and gestured for Casey to follow after her.

Once upon a time the island had hosted numerous robust trees, part of the island had even been a nature reserve. But both those days and those trees were long gone now, chopped down to provide lumber for New Avalon's various construction projects. It made the island look a bit barren and dead, and Alexa almost wondered if it would have been preferable to try to preserve at least some of them.

It also meant there was absolutely zero obstacles to obscure the docks or anyone who might want to use them, meaning the guards were waiting for them when they finally approached. There were eight of them on the ground that stood on either side of the gate.

Several more were up on the reinforced walls, behind strong, tall stone partitions. All but two were armed with various models of bows and crossbows, and the last two more impressively with hunting rifles, all of which were trained on Alexa and Casey as they approached.

There were also two dogs, large well-muscled specimens of indeterminate breed, each one standing next to its master with the air of well-trained police animals. None of them made a noise, just waited as the two travelers approached.

Alexa was aware of the low rumbling noise in Casey's throat very suddenly, and realized her companion was tensing up again, looking like he was preparing for a fight.

“Woah,
Casey,
” she hissed as warning, reminding him who he was supposed to be at the moment, “Relax, everything's okay! They just guard the place, make sure no zombies get in. They just have to make sure we're not zoms or zoms-in-waiting. Just stay calm and do what they tell you, alright?”

Casey did not look happy with this order, and clearly did not enjoy having the weapons trained on them like this. Or rather, Alexa realized after a moment, he didn't seem to like that they were trained on
her,
which she supposed made sense; Casey was tougher than her and might survive getting shot by everything here, after all, but she would be turned into swiss cheese pretty fast.

It might have worried him, but it was misplaced. She'd just have to show Casey it was okay before he did something too rash.

Grinning with as much cheer and charm as she could muster, Alexa stepped forward into speaking range, holding up her hands slowly to show she was unarmed.

“Hey guys,” she said, being very careful to accentuate the fact that she could speak as well, “Just a couple travelers stopping in for some trade and a chance to rest safely. No dead heads here.”

The guards nodded to show they heard her, but did not lower the weapons just yet. “Your friend?”

“Go ahead and introduce yourself, Casey,” Alexa told him–stressing the name again between them, just to be safe–and then to the guards she added for Casey's benefit, “I found him running it solo down south, figured he could probably use the rest, but he, uh, hasn't been around people for a while. Bit jumpy.”

Well, it was mostly true, anyway, and it wouldn't be the first time newbies had been shocked and nervous about New Avalon's security. Sure enough, one of the guards nodded, and said sternly but not unkindly, “Just give us yer name, okay, kid?”

Casey grit his teeth and glared at the guards a little distrustfully, but after a moment said, “My name is Casey. I'm not a zom.”

This seemed to be enough for the guards to lower their weapons, although the bowmen kept arrows nocked if not drawn, just to be safe. “You can come forward to be searched,” the lead guard told them, gesturing with one hand as he set aside his rifle.

“Searched?” Casey questioned, still sounding distrustful.

“They just have to make sure we weren't bitten,” Alexa assured him hastily. “Or that we're not carrying anything that could infect people. They don't want to let anybody in that could turn while inside the walls. One zombie on the inside could ruin everything they've worked for.”

Alexa stepped forward and handed over her pack, and then dutifully obeyed the instructions of the guards, shrugging off her jacket so they could check her for tell-tale bites or bloodstains. They worked quickly and efficiently to look her over, while another guard looked quickly through her supplies and trade goods and then set it down for the guard dog to examine.

Nothing was found on Alexa or in the pack, and just as quickly the guards handed her her jacket and repacked her possessions, returning them without any attempts at bribery or theft. New Avalon ran a tight ship with its guards, who were extremely well-trained, disciplined, and hand-picked by the head of security.

A breakdown in security would put the entire island at risk, and New Avalon's leaders were determined to prevent it from even becoming a problem to begin with.

Casey still hadn't come forward for his own search, and did not seem pleased with the precautions. Alexa winced a little inwardly. She'd been wondering how Casey would react tor people that weren't her, and had hoped after meeting Peter that he'd handle it okay.

Apparently being trained to be a living weapon, followed by three years of isolation in a pod and then a month of survival training, were not really things that helped one develop good social skills. Casey was not comfortable with the situation, and when he got uncomfortable he also had a tendency to get violent.

“Casey,” she said, “It's
fine.
Seriously. Just takes a few seconds. Relax, we've got nothing to hide, remember?”

It was a subtle reminder to
not
cause trouble because if they did people would start looking closer, and if they started looking closer at Casey... well, it could be bad.

Casey got the message, clearly, because although he grit his teeth and his frown was so deep it was almost scary, he grudgingly came forward and handed over his pack. Just like Alexa, the search was over quickly, but even so Casey was tense the entire time and clearly was not fond of people being this close to him or touching him.

“There ya go, kid,” the same guard as before said–again, not unkindly–as he handed the bag back. The men seemed to think Casey was one of the more shell-shocked zom survivors, dazed or frightened by too much human contact, and were at least attempting to make things easier on him.

It wouldn't be the first time they'd met civilians so unused to people or kindness after surviving that they didn't know how to handle it, after all. “Doing just fine. Just the dog test and yer done.”