The cube from the Pendeltons' backyard disappeared after a week, and it wasn't a day too soon. Harold and Gladys were heartily sick of the almost constant presence of the soldiers taking items from the cube. Although they didn't enter the house, they could be heard and seen coming and going from the backyard almost around the clock.
The Ramseys had moved back to their house across the road. Harold and Gladys spent a lot of time at their place. There was a lot of new things to discuss: the new world government, the new currency, the new guaranteed minimum income. Especially the guaranteed minimum income, which would replace the pensions they were receiving. They knew they'd be getting much less money. They also suspected their savings would become next to worthless after the new currency was introduced.
They all agreed on one thing: they would be continuing their venture in the New World. They would legalize it though, as soon as a Colonial Office was opened in the Port Douglas town hall. They also made plans to recruit more people into their New World settlement.
The Ramseys had a stationary phone, and it started working near the end of January. The Pendeltons did not have any children, but the Ramseys did. One son was in Melbourne, one in Brisbane, and there was also a daughter in Port Darwin. All were married, and all were eager to join their parents in the New World.
That was the good news. But the good news had been brought about by bad news: the Ramseys' children painted a bleak picture of the situation at their end. The big cities had been much more severely affected by the catastrophe than Port Douglas. There was plenty of violence, there were plenty of people going hungry, there was plenty of misery. Port Douglas seemed bucolic by comparison.
But things were getting increasingly grim in Port Douglas, too. By the end of January, both the Pendeltons and the Ramseys had eaten all the food they had. They mounted two exhausting expeditions to the town center which brought meager results: a five-kilo sack of rice, a bag of apples, and a few cans of processed meat that, at another time, they would have considered unfit for consumption.
They were lucky to get that. The store shelves were bare. But the owner had known them for a very long time; they had spent literally tens of thousands of dollars in his store. So he shared his own secret hoard of food with them, charging triple prices.
They were somewhat reassured by the strong army presence in Port Douglas. A full company of soldiers was now permanently stationed there, with armed troops patrolling the streets. There was no trouble, no violence. But there also was no electric power, and no water except for the two wells that had been hastily dug by the soldiers. The army distributed a bucket of water per household every day. It was barely enough water to drink, let alone wash.
At the beginning of February, a convoy of army vehicles appeared in town. It consisted of trucks loaded with military rations and medical field kits. The Ramseys and the Pendeltons both received a week's worth of food rations and a field kit each.
There had been great joy when the army trucks arrived, and not only because of the supplies they'd brought. The column of moving vehicles was like a symbol of normalcy. People greeted the soldiers driving them as if they were liberating the town from a cruel occupation. However, the enthusiasm was short-lived. It quickly became apparent that before things got better, they must first get a good deal worse.
The trucks departed loaded with all the items that had been taken from the cube in the Pendeltons' backyard. The week that followed was especially harsh. The sun beat down from a cloudless sky, and it was unbearably hot. Everyone ate and did as little as they could. Everyone did all they could just to survive till the next day. And the next day. And the next.
"We can't go on like this," Harold said to Dave Ramsey one morning. They had just finished taking stock of their remaining food. They calculated they had five days' worth: with extra discipline, they might make them stretch for a week.
"No," Dave Ramsey agreed. "We can't. Things cannot go on like this, in general. Know what Sean told me?" Sean was Dave's son who lived in Melbourne. He was a doctor like his father.
Harold shrugged.
"Nothing good, I suppose," he said.
"Well, there was some good news, actually. They have water running again, and electricity's on for a couple of hours every day. But there are over a hundred suicides daily, and the number is growing. And more and more people are dying from other causes, too. I've told you he works at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. They're chock-full, they just can't admit any more people. So people are camping on the hospital grounds, and every morning a couple of medical teams run a quick inspection and take away at least half a dozen bodies."
"When is he coming over?"
"As soon as he has the means to. His wife is a nurse, and she wants to leave as soon as possible, as well. They have two children, boy and girl, four and six years old. They're all constantly hungry."
"But how are they going to get here? The only vehicles that are running belong to the military and the police."
"The trains are supposed to be running soon."
"The trains? They won't get further than Townsville. And that's a long way from here."
"We'll think of something. I've been talking to the secretary of the Cairns Riding Club. I'd treated him for an embarrassing little ailment a long while ago, but he's grateful for to this day. For the treatment - and for my discretion."
"Ah. He'd been naughty, had he?"
"I would say so. Can't say more. Have to keep that kind stuff confidential."
"Of course. Well, what did this grateful secretary of yours have to say?"
"They're putting all those horses they have in their stables to good use. They've even started a coach service, can you believe it? It's like we're back in the eighteenth century. He was pretty pleased about that, actually. Said they were making stacks of money. I wonder what he'll do with all that money when they introduce the new currency."
"Is that someone knocking on your front door?"
"I'll let Susan handle it. So what are we eating today? Green peas or corn? Peas would be better, but we've only got three cans left. And there are five of corn."
"Let's go with corn. It's more filling."
"Maybe that's exactly why we should leave it for later."
Harold sighed.
"I suppose you're right," he said.
When they left the pantry to carry the day's food into the kitchen, an excited Susan Ramsey pounced on them waving a handbill.
"You won't believe what's happening," she said.
"First things first," said Dave. "Who was that?"
"The soldiers delivering the water. They said it's the last delivery we get," his wife said, looking mischievous.
"And that makes you happy?"
"Yes. Because we're going to have water running again within the next twelve hours. So they said. And power will be back on any day."
"That is very good news," said Harold with deep feeling. "Where's Gladys? I have to tell her."
"She already knows. She's gone back to your house to fetch a couple of implant kits and hiber beds."
"What? She's going to get us arrested!"
"We've decided - me and Gladys have decided to reincarnate ourselves in the New World. We'll hide the implants in our hair. Sorry you can't do the same," said Susan Ramsey, looking at her husband's bald pate.
"No, no, no," said Harold. "We're going to do exactly what we've agreed to do. Wait till they open a Colonial Office, buy licenses to colonize, and return to the New World only then."
"He's right," Dave Ramsey said to his wife. "Off you go, Harold. Sorry I won't accompany you, but we'll get going on the food in the meantime. As you know, it's a long and complicated process."
Harold nodded. Preparing a meal involved lighting a fire in the Ramseys' backyard. The rice took forever to cook even when they'd soaked it in water beforehand.
"All right," he said. "I'll be back soon. As so will Gladys."
He left the Ramseys' house and as he was crossing the road, he saw there was activity down the street. He stopped to have a good look when he saw it was centered around the renters' house.
Soldiers were carrying stretchers out of the house. And the bodies on the stretchers were encased in body bags.
He felt his heart miss a beat. They were dead! They were dead for real! Dave and himself hadn't just killed the renters in the New World. They had killed the originals on Earth, too!
He was aghast at this. Gladys hadn't been killed by the renters; it was only her second self that had died in the New World. He had to find what had happened to the renters.
He walked up to the soldiers, who were rather unceremoniously dumping the body bags onto the two handcarts parked in front of the renters' house. There was a solitary soldier standing nearby, monitoring the loading of the carts. He had a a couple of chevrons on his sleeve and looked tired and angry and slightly sick, as if he was about to throw up.
"Excuse me, corporal," said Harold. "I live just a few houses down the street. Can you tell me what happened here?"
The soldier looked at him angrily.
"The people who lived in that house are dead," he said. "Have been dead for some time."
"Oh God," Harold said. "Oh my God. If we had only known - "
"What are you talking about?" the corporal asked sharply.
Harold recovered quickly.
"We're neighbors," he said. "We could have helped them, but we didn't know. We had no idea they were sick. Really. We - "
"Relax, grandpa," said the corporal. "Don't worry about all that. They overdosed on drugs. Bunch of fucking junkies."
"I see," Harold said.
He turned away and began walking home, head hung low.
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