Free Surviving The Evacuation (Book 6): Harvest by Frank Tayell Page A

“But it could take longer than three weeks. If the boat comes, it might bring food, but we’re assuming that they still have food to spare, of course, and they may not. And when we left they had a real problem with fuel. They might only send a sailing boat with a sat-phone.”
    “Thank you,” Hana said. “And as such we must plan as if they don’t exist. And that means we must go out and find more food, more firewood—”
    “There’s plenty of that in the old church,” McInery interrupted. “A pew burns as well as a shelf.”
    “You know my feelings on that, Mrs McInery.” And Nilda noted that Hana didn’t berate her for interrupting. “But perhaps in an emergency we must forego those considerations. As I was saying, we need more clothes, more candles, more wind-up torches, and anything else that will allow us to save our firewood for boiling water. With those rafts, we should start thinking about trips across the river to south London and places that…”
    As Hana spoke, Nilda got a better idea of her leadership style, or rather her lack thereof. She clearly had no interest in power and had fallen into the role with the deaths back in Kirkman House. She acted like a schoolteacher and treated everyone as if they were children. Perhaps because of the horrors surrounding them, people welcomed that regression back to those halcyon days where the greatest danger lay in the playground. As long as Hana was spelling out what had to be done, by whom, and by when, few people took the initiative. Therein lay the danger. Nilda had no intention of formally challenging Hana for leadership. As long as everything was being done that could be done, it didn’t matter whom people considered the group’s highest authority. She threw a glance over at McInery. It almost didn’t matter.
    “And that brings us to Kent,” Hana finished. “If there is fruit still on those trees and—”
    “And why should there be?” it was Graham, again.
    “Because,” Chester snapped before Hana had a chance to remonstrate, “it was called the Garden of England for a reason. Sorry,” he added. “I forgot I was meant to wait for my turn.”
    “Yes. Um, Well, Kent.” Hana looked down again. “I’ve made a list of farms I know of, and which are close to the coast. We have enough diesel for the boat to make about three hundred miles whilst leaving enough for a car to get to Wales, and a small reserve in case we need to abandon this castle. I propose we send a small group down to Kent to find some suitable farms. Once we know how much food is there, we can devise a safe way to bring it back. Obviously, this should happen immediately.”
    “We’ll need better weapons than we have here if we want everyone who leaves to come back,” McInery said. “Swords and spears are a recipe for death. I’ll take one of those rafts upriver to Westminster. When the government was finally overrun, the few who escaped wouldn’t have been able to take all their weapons and munitions with them. With those, we could collect all the food we need and do it safely.”
    Nilda looked over at Tuck. Her and Jay’s hands were moving in an intense back and forth conversation.
    “Yes, um…” Hana stammered, looking down at her ledgers again as if one of those might find a clue as to how she should respond.
    “Tuck’ll go too,” Jay said, loudly. “She says you’ll need someone with you who knows about guns.”
    “And if she’s going upriver,” Chester said, speaking before McInery could reply, “and since Nilda’s not going to be doing any running for a couple of days, I’ll go down to Kent.”
    “What about Anglesey?” Graham asked.
    “You heard what Hana said,” Chester answered. “Without that food you’ll starve before I get back. I’m more used to travelling around the wasteland than most, and Anglesey can wait until this is done. Of course, you can always go to Wales yourself. Just head north for a hundred miles, then take a left. When