The best part of spending your early morning hours in a graveyard is the peace and quiet. Lots of time to reflect and commune with the departed. It's just light enough now to start making out the headstone details. To my left rests a young boy, died one day before his fifth birthday in 1918. His name was Archibald. I trace his name with the tip of my finger and a wave of sadness washes over me.

When visiting my Dad's final resting place, I often noticed how many children from the early 20th century seem to occupy the graves. So many small victims of a hard and unfair life before the advent of modern medicine. All those lives lost before simple things like vaccines and antibiotics were commonplace and now we're back there again, back where simple things are complicated and the commonplace is rare. Simple things like antibiotics and complicated things like how the hell I'm going to get my hands on some.

"Changing of the guard," Hartt whispers, still peering through his binoculars.

I wriggle away from Archie's grave back to my present day complications and back to the corner of the mausoleum Hartt and I are using for cover. The overgrown junipers that surround it give us nearly complete concealment. It's an ideal vantage point for covertly observing the twin fifteen story Fairview Towers. The Towers are a pair of burnt sienna coloured structures that jut up from the surrounding landscape and are easily one of the tallest structures in the city. In their day, they were a swanky residence for wealthy retirees and anyone else who could stomach the exorbitant rent. Both west and south-facing balconies provided a spectacular view of Osprey Bay if you were above the fifth floor.

Over time things changed, the rent dropped and the residents' demographics shifted to the shifty. Now with the rule of law on extended hiatus, the seedy element has taken full charge of the towers and it is exactly that element that is getting our full attention. These are the people, according to Denton Frost, that are in possession of the antibiotics I desperately need for Kate.

I peer around the opposite corner of the mausoleum with my own optics. "I see them. Fifth floor and tenth floor just like before. So what have we learned so far?" I ask.

"They are paranoid enough to run watches around the clock, and they have a great view from up there," Hartt replies. "They are armed, but I haven't seen anything serious. And lucky for us they seem quite focused on the Pelex facility."

"No wonder Denton has his panties in a knot, from the tenth floor you can likely see everything that is going on at Pelex these days. Would also be a pretty clean shot for anyone with some skill and a decent rifle."

"That's for certain," Hartt says, glassing over toward the sprawling Pelex compound. "I can only make out some of the taller structures at Pelex, check out the observation post, upper deck just west of the yellow building."

"I see it," I reply as I observe a pair of men who in turn are peering through binoculars at the Fairview towers. "I feel like we're part of some sordid affair, spying on them as they spy on each other."

"Would be better to stay out of this relationship, I think. I don't think it's going to end well for anyone," Hartt opines and turns again towards Pelex. "Just what do you think is going on at Pelex?" Hartt asks.

"Fuck if I know," I shrug. "Sure keeping people busy though."

"You notice they had lights all night? Pelex is generating power somehow, maybe biomass like the hospital."

"Yeah, that would be my guess too. Bastards probably have running hot water too."

"Did I tell you Frost has been making a pretty big effort to recruit from our ranks. It's causing some problems for us, for the officers at least and with the CO gone and no word from Brigade some of the enlisted are seriously considering the jump."

"More men for his private army?"

"Something like that. He's promising private quarters, hot meals and pay."

"What is he paying with, money is kind of useless these days."

"They're minting some coins, I've seen copper slugs, and silver, they have a cross on one side and a value on the other."

"A cross? Like that one down there?" I say pointing to the structure looming over the treetops to the northwest of us.

"Yeah. What's the deal with the cross?" Hartt asks.

"I dunno about that, they had that thing erected last year. It's a big ass cross, reminds me of the ones you see when you drive down I-75."

"I'm not familiar with those," Hartt admits.

"Well, trust me, kinda the same deal." I shift position and scan the towers more thoroughly before ducking back around the corner. Sitting back against the smooth, cold masonry of the mausoleum I let out a long sigh.

"What's up?" Hartt asks, opening his thermos. He pours two servings of steaming hot tea into small plastic cups and offers me one.

"I don't know what the hell to do about these towers. I think a frontal assault is out of the question and I doubt we can ninja our way in. Why the hell did I agree to this in the first place."

"You love your wife, that's why."

"Yeah, but it's been two weeks and I'm no closer to a solution. We're not an army. If it wasn't for Freya scrounging up those antibiotics, I'd be screwed."

Hartt snorts a weak, half-heartedly suppressed chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry, it's not funny, but Frost has got to be wondering why Kate hasn't gotten worse, must be driving him mad."

"Oh fuck yeah," I start to chortle as well. "I feel like I owe you and Sabine a candlelit dinner or something for all that you've done. She's really hanging her ass out there sneaking those meds in."

"I think deep down she's a bit of a thrill seeker, I didn't really have to twist her arm."

"Seriously, I owe you both."

"No worries, you'd do the same for me. You might also owe Freya, she's the one who can apparently scrounge up just about anything."

I sip my tea and nod slowly, gazing across the myriad of headstones. I'm indebted to a lot of people it seems. There are few people I would really stick my neck out for, but for Hartt, anything. Anytime.

"Now for the shitty part," Hartt breaks the silence.

"What's that."

"We're stuck here all damn day until we can sneak back out when it's dark."

"Luckily we look like shrubbery," I say, referring to the homemade ghillie suits, a combination of poorly stitched burlap covered with twigs and leaves. Perhaps a bit short of milspec quality, but sufficient for the task at hand.

"You should wear makeup more often," Hartt quips. "Really sets off your eyes."

His face is also smeared with a greasy breakup pattern of face paint and it dons on me just how ridiculous we look and just how ridiculous everything is anymore. I'm hiding in a graveyard, dressed like a forlorn, half-dead spruce, spying on a building full of wannabe gangsters who may or may not have drugs I need to save my wife.

"I need a vacation," I say.

"Shuddup and break out the cards, it's gonna be a long, uncomfortable day."

* * * * *

There are times when you witness something so unreal, so indescribable, so completely out of context with your accepted reality that words fail you and you stare idiotically while your mind goes into some kind of spasm unable to compute the scene that plays out before your eyes. That's where I am right now. Or I'm having some kind of weed flashback, I'm really not sure.

My ears seem to be having a better time of it, the clip-clop, clip-clop is a sensible auditory cue because, of course, horses do that clip-clop thing.

"What... the... ?" I start, but I just give up and sit down on the large rock in my front yard. Heath runs past me out onto the street. "Freya!" he yells, "you got a horsey!"

Indeed she does, and she sits atop the somewhat emaciated chestnut coloured beast with a beaming smile as she guides it up the driveway. Clip-clop, clip-clop. Not far behind is Raven on another horse, similar in colour, but with a flash of white on its muzzle and a little less skinny. He has a more concerned look on his face. I continue to gawk.

"Hi Heath!" Freya says, dismounting the animal in one fluid motion. She moves with the same grace when she spars, like a dancer, but with far deadlier intent. "Yes, two horses actually. Do you like them?"

"Oh yes!" Heath exclaims, looking up at the large animal with wide eyes. "Can I pet him?" he asks. When it comes to horses, Heath is clearly the braver of us, horses freak me out a little and I keep my distance.

"Yes." She replies scooping him up off the ground, "But my horse is a girl horse--a mare--so you may pet her. Raven's horse is a boy."

Raven dismounts his steed and walks over to me and hands me a pair of small radios. "These were shit, no range, I think we were barely passed the highway and we couldn't talk to you anymore."

"Yeah, I noticed that. We need better radios. They eat batteries too, we need more rechargeable ones." I agree. "Umm... not to change the subject, but, uh... horses, really?" I say gesturing toward the animals.

Raven blows out a long breath before speaking, "I told Freya it might not be the greatest idea, but she insisted. I mean, she wouldn't leave without them."

"Where the hell..." I start, but realize that probably doesn't even matter. "Don't they belong to somebody?"

"Oh I'm sure they do, or they did, but look at them. Whoever was in charge of them stopped caring for them long ago. We found them in a field. Freya's had its reigns tangled up in some fencing, it was stuck there, couldn't eat or drink. This one," he says, indicating the male horse, "seemed to just be loitering near the other one."

"So you stole them?"

"Liberated, maybe?"

"How about rescued," Freya chips in.

"Well, that's great. I understand it was the humane thing to do, but no one around here knows how to take care of horses. Hell, I struggle just to keep the chickens alive."

"Actually... both Freya and I have a fair bit of horse experience. We both worked the stables at The Faire. They really aren't that difficult to care for. They need to be re-shod, they're both underweight but otherwise healthy from what I can tell. Shouldn't take much more than food, water and a little TLC to get them back in shape."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it, but we are struggling just to feed ourselves, how do we feed a pair of horses? They must eat a shitload of something."

"Freya and I will worry about that, once the surrounding fields get growing, they can graze freely. If there is some corn and soya beans that come up again, we'll cultivate that as best we can. Now that we have the horses though, we can scavenge much farther, find more stuff. Once the horses are healthy that is, and we'll go check out the co-ops, if we get lucky, could be lots of feed stock in there."

"You guys have really thought about this haven't you?"

"It was a long ride back here," Raven says.

"You know, some people are gonna look at these horses and they might start thinking like 'hey look, there's a thousand pounds of meat standing right there' -- you know what I mean?"

"NO ONE IS EATING THESE HORSES!" Freya barks as she spins around and marches over stabbing her finger at my chest. I didn't realize she was listening. We are toe-to-toe and despite looking down on her, I suddenly feel very small. She says again, slowly, quietly and with emphasis on every word, "No one... is eating... these horses."

"Okay." I say sheepishly, and add, "I wouldn't eat them... I mean I wasn't suggesting... I just meant--"

She walks away before I finish, gathers Heath and the horses and disappears around the back of the house.

"See what I mean?" Raven says.

"Jesus! She's scares me a little."

"A little?"

"You know, we do have to bring this up at the meeting tonight."

"I know."

"Expect a mixed response."

"Expect Freya to quash any motions to do anything other than love and care for those horses."

"I kinda hope someone mentions eating them, just to see her response."

"You just want off the shit-list."

"Exactly."

* * * * *

The meeting is a complete yawner, nobody even makes a glue joke about the horses and I get a couple of searing sideways glances from Freya in the process. Margot Daltry instantly volunteers her fenced in yard as a corral which is perfect because her property abuts the surrounding fields. Margot apparently grew up on a farm and is perfectly capable of tending horses despite her arthritis (her words).

When all is said and done the meeting breaks up, people head home and call it a night. A handful of us hangout for a bit by the stove. Jake opens the stove door and feeds it another bundle of pallet wood.

"Might as well put on another pot of tea," I advise. "Looks like we have some details to work out."

Ari plops a chair down next to mine. "We have some problems, yes?" he says, lighting his pipe.

"Hell yes we have problems," Jake replies pulling a flask from his pocket and taking a hit. "Half the fucking neighbourhood has flooded basements, people are running low on food and someone took a pot-shot at one of the patrols the other night. People don't want to stay here any longer, not when they here about the deal Frost is offering."

"I can't see that old high school being a better place to call home than here," I reply.

"It's dry and has heat and light from what I understand," Ari says. "And your friend has some labour-for-food exchange I've heard."

"He's not my friend Ari," I correct him.

"He might be good friend to make then," Ari replies.

"Moving on," I say, steering the conversation back on course. I'm already over my head with the last deal I struck with Frost. "What do we need to make things better for people here?"

"Power." Jake says. "Bare minimum, we need power, better security and more food."

"We need a bunch of solar panels and some of those small scale wind mills." Hartt adds.

"I can get those," Freya speaks up. "If you can build me a wagon for the horses, I can get plenty of those."

"Really?" I say.

"Yeah, the National Park they had all kinds of renewable power equipment. Should be able to get lots of equipment from there, unless someone else got there first. From what Raven and I have seen, we're not the only people scavenging these days." Freya says.

"What about distribution?" Hartt asks. "Do we try to generate all the power centrally and sent it house to house?"

"Not sure if that would work. Solar at least will be direct current, we need inverters and batteries, lots of batteries and someone who knows how to put all that together."

"I know a guy," Jake says. "But you aren't gonna like it."

"Who?" I ask.

"You up for a hike to Radio Hill?"

"Aw fuck, not that asshole."

"He was a lineman before the shit went south, he knows his stuff. We need to go see him about the radios anyway and we have to get this flooding issue under now, otherwise everybody will be leaving. Except you I guess, but you might change your mind when you run out of propane."

I don't acknowledge it, but deep down I know Jake is right and I have burned through at least half my propane running my generator at intervals to pump out my sump and keep the basement dry. I have literally become the boy with his finger in the hole in the dike.

"You have to do something," Ari adds quietly. "Two families left last week, three more since this morning. I don't want to see people leave either, but living here without power, heat, basements flooding--it's too much. Nobody wants to suffer if there is an alternative. The ones who remain are looking to you to fix it."

"Fine, let's do it, you can do the talking, I can't stand that slob."

We wrap up the evening with a few hands of Euchre. Ari and I decimate Hartt and Jake to the point where Hartt is cussing worse than Jake which tells me it's definitely time to call it a night. So we do.