Georges-Pierre.
She eyed the people in the painting; the vibrant colours and the tranquillity of the setting. She longed to see such a place again.
“Beautiful,” she whispered.
An hour later, and she was making her way through the dark and damp corridors again, headed for the perimeter. Pushing her way through the doors, she walked across the gravel and mud and over towards the rickety shack that housed their communications centre at the foot of the wall. She pulled the cold and wet canvas sheet to the side, a wave of heat and light suddenly blasting against her face and making her squint and cough. It was a shock to her system after the chilled air outside.
Stepping through and into the smoke filled room, she looked across at the two men who were sitting at the small table, playing cards and looking bored. Neither of them bothered to look up or acknowledge her. They were apathetic, and she could see that they were stuck in auto-pilot, fulfilling the same mundane tasks, and carrying out the same repetitive duties, day in and day out.
“Anything?” she asked after a few moments, feeling obliged to break the oppressive silence and make her presence known.
“Not a murmur,” the older man replied from behind the burning cigarette that was clutched between his teeth, his attention remaining fixed upon the playing cards he was holding in his hand.
Ron was ancient. Even when Tina had first arrived at the base after Al and Tommy had saved her, the man was much older than anyone else there. He had at least twenty years on the next oldest member of the survivors and he looked it. His nicknames had gone from the likes of ‘Grandad’ and ‘Old `un’, to ‘Fossil’ and ‘Dracula’. Despite the fact that he was never seen without a cigarette in his mouth, and never exercised, Ron seemed to be impervious to the ravages of time. His body aged and his features were that of a man in his eighties, but he stubbornly clung to life with a grip that defied his years and his lifestyle. Rumour had it that he was actually one of the undead but had not yet realised it. He was extremely ill tempered and everything was an inconvenience to him. Tina had long since learned to avoid him, but from time to time, communication between the two was unavoidable.
She waited to see if anything else would be said or if Ron would even look at her and offer any kind of enlightenment. She knew that it was futile, and she was not disappointed when the old man continued to ignore her as though he had forgotten that she had even entered the room. She looked over towards the VHF radio that was sitting on the table beside him. Tina could see that it was switched on, and the handset was close by. If there were any news, and despite the inconvenience to him, she was sure that Ron would pass it on.
“Nice talking to you, Ron,” she finally said, and turned to leave.
“It’s only been a couple of hours, Tina,” a voice said after her.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw the face of the other man in the communications room looking back at her. His name was Gary, and he was much younger and more cooperative than Ron. He had been there from the beginning, joining the survivors in the base as a civilian, but learning to become a soldier over the years through necessity. Four years earlier, Tina had assigned a number of the survivors, including Gary, to Ron as apprentices. They all knew that Ron would not last forever, and when he was gone someone would need to take over as the communications expert.
“Thanks, Gary. I’ll check in later.”
She closed the canvas flap and headed for the steps leading back up on to the perimeter wall. Footsteps rang out behind her as she ascended, and she turned to see that Gary had followed her. They stood side by side for a while in silence staring into the great nothingness that surrounded the FOB.
“Ron’s an arsehole,” Gary finally offered. “He’s bloody hard work at times.”
Tina nodded with a slight
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley