“That’s what I said.” Einar nodded with the air of someone whose patience was wearing dangerously thin, and Maya relented almost instantly, asking us to follow her.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but somehow, I got the impression that there was, or rather had been, something between her and Einar. Something that had ended sourly. I preferred not to dwell too deeply on my feelings surrounding these findings. My relief at their mutual awkwardness had nothing to do with jealousy, no, of course not. If I were to frequent his bed, it was only natural I didn’t want to share it with anyone else.
I instantly fell in love with Ascu, the erstwhile mountain resort turned Outbreak survivors’ settlement. At first, I couldn’t phantom why. Like most mountain resorts, it was slightly run-down, undecorated, boasting that bleak practicality that goes against true comfort. It was only later that I realised it reminded me of the one and only summer camp my mother could afford to send me to when I was nine. It was since then that I associated bunk beds and communal bathrooms with rare luxury, more than I did the boutique hotels Petr and I used to holiday in.
The three larger buildings we had seen from above were made of pale wooden planks and formed a ‘U’ shape. Smaller huts made of the same material were scattered behind. Betweenthe three buildings was an old well, some tents, and vegetable patches.
“These two were restaurants before.” Maya pointed out two of the larger buildings that were opposite each other. “That one.” She indicated the building forming the bottom of the U. “That has showers and toilets on the first floor and rooms on the second. There’s a water spring over there. The sands and rocks filter the water so it’s safe to drink.”
We entered the building to our left and found a large dining room on the ground floor with long tables and benches. The windows were small, and the wood-panelled room was dark but cosy, especially owing to the central fireplace.
My eyes immediately landed on the bookshelves in the corner opposite the bar.
“Many of them are in English, for tourists,” Maya told us, perhaps noticing the longing in my gaze, and I nearly whooped out loud.
“Kitchen’s through there,” she said, stopping near a swinging door with a round window in it like that in a ship cabin. “And upstairs lives Jean-Luc and his wife, Madeleine. He was the resort manager before.”
She led us to the opposite building, which boasted a large ‘Pizza & Ice Cream’ sign. We walked between the vegetable patches, smelling sharply and pleasantly of dirt.
We entered the building. The downstairs hall looked quite similar to the one we had just seen, except that there were small tables and chairs instead of long tables and benches.
“Einar and his advisers now mainly use this hall to like hold meetings and stuff,” Maya explained. “Einar’s lodgings are upstairs. It used to be the place of the owners of this cafe, but ... they both were infected, and Einardealtwith them and took their place.”
I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck, imagining exactly how Einar haddealtwith them.
“How did he ... become the leader?” I asked cautiously.
“Oh, we like voted,” she replied. “First, we sort of had no leader, but there were too many conflicts, and so we decided there had to be someone whose word would be final. And he did a lot already, he like totally knew what to do from day one, he like improved the fences and said to plant the vegetables and dealt with the infected ... also he got bitten and nothing happened to him so he could like fight them. So yeah, he was like the obvious choice, you know.”
I felt a bit relieved to hear that Einar’s position of power was democratically elected rather than usurped.
Maya led us back out. Behind the last large building were smaller huts that covered the rest of the fenced-in area, grit pathways running between them like veins in the pale green grass. She told us they mostly housed Einar’s advisers and their partners, if they had any.
Finally, she led us to the third large hut where our lodgings would be. She showed us two spacious bathrooms lined with cracked hospital-white tiles on the ground floor. Then she took us upstairs to our new narrow room, made narrower yet by two rows of bunk beds with wooden frames, before telling us to come to the main hall for dinner at sunset and leaving us to our own devices.
Dinner was an illuminating affair. Not only because people’s eyes bore curiously into us from all sides from the moment we entered the dimly lit hall. Not even because the watery hare stew was without a doubt the best meal of our lives, largely owing to the fact that it was the first cooked food we had had in weeks. No, the main reason was Einar’s speech.
He and his advisers sat at a table positioned perpendicular to the rest, like a head table would be at weddings. Once the meal was concluded, he stood up, straightening his broad shoulders. The hall fell silent almost instantly, and all that could be heard was the crackling of the lit fireplace.
“Thank you to everyone who helped make dinner tonight. I don’t know how you all do it, but you continue to amaze me by being able to create a new dish every day with so few simple ingredients available.”
I not only appreciated the fact that he chose to pay respect to the cooks with his first sentence but also marvelled at his delivery. His voice didn’t tremble, and it was strong and steady, with a pleasant cadence. He didn’t rush, taking his time to emphasise the words he deemed important. Yet, somehow, he still gave me the impression of not being a man to enjoy hearing his own voice; as if speaking publicly was a challenge he measured well against, but a challenge nonetheless. It was only when I focused very closely that I realised those subtle signs of reticence intertwined his delivery with a regularity that was so perfect there was something measured about it.Rehearsed.It was then that I became truly impressed with him.
Our presence must have been tricky for him to explain to the resident settlers, but he skated around the topic of our potential usefulness to the colony with the diplomatic ease of a seasoned acrobat, and without yet mentioning what in particular he expected our contributions to be. That way, he avoided the political risk of promising something he himself could not guarantee before a trip to a certain beach in the Northwest.
Unfortunately for me, he chose to focus instead on the one thing he himself had witnessed that could be gained from our presence. Mine, specifically.
“Some of you have spent hours today clearing and burning about fifty infected corpses. And you might want to know whom to thank for the pleasant afternoon.”
Mostly male voices chuckled throughout the hall. I felt the blood drain from my face in anticipation of what was to come, my heart pummelling the inside of my ribcage like a trapped animal trying to escape.
Einar smiled at me encouragingly and apologetically at the same time when he indicated that I should get up. I did, all too aware that my head barely cleared the seated crowd.
“This is Renata. And contrary to her delicate looks, she is the most lethal person currently in this room. With my own eyes, I saw her kill those cannibals single-handedly with nothing but a bow. Did any of you notice anything curious about the way she killed them?”
He slowly scanned the room with a challenging air that was all the more potent for being nearly imperceptible.
“Most of them were headshots?” a young man spoke tentatively with a French accent, and an astonished hum filled the hall.
