Dee Jayne Walker.

The next morning Sophie woke the 'travellers' and ate breakfast with them in the big hall. Lilly had been awake for two hours cleaning and searching the room from top to bottom, and end to end, convinced that it was possible a listening device might be hidden somewhere. She had turned all the tables over and scrutinised every chair. And though she had found nothing was still convinced the effort was worth it My first act of the day had been to hunt down James. I found him sitting under his favourite tree. (the one he used to hide in as a child.) He smiled at me, "I know what you want." He said. I sat down next to him saying, "Normally I think I'd be scolding you, 18 or not I don't really approve of eavesdropping, but I think these are special circumstances." "I learned my lesson a long time ago: like you told me eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves, it took me a year to firgive Leanne. But like you say these are special circumstan...

Other people stopped and chatted to, 'the old one' through the evening, and I found mysef fascinated by how his benign smile seemed to become more and more strained, as the evening progressed. I heard at least two people ask him what the mountains were like, and his answer was beginning to sound increasingly rehearsed. One large room in the old part of the farm, had been made up for the travellers, and as the evening ended, I saw Sophie show them where the bathroom and their room was. Just for a moment I thought I saw James behind the farm house. Part of me thought I should go and find him, eavesdropping is after all a little rude. But another part of me wanted to know what he managed to hear. Lilly was busy whispering to people pointing them up the hill to the cove, where we would sometimes have the gathering in the summer. Some people were reluctant, it was October after all, and night to hoot. But Lilly is a very persuasive person when she wants to be. I dutifully follow...

John stood quietly and I could tell he was reorganising his thoughts. "Which Ism, do you think they are?" He asked. "I'm, not certain," I paused, "I think whoever they are, they planned to survive 'the day'. In a deliberately constructed and provisioned bunker. They undoubtedly think of themselves as 'the government', and no doubt want to take back what they think is theirs." "What do you think we should do about them? "I'm not sure. I think Lilly would talk about alliances and information gathering. It would certainly be a bad idea to antagonise them at this stage." I turned to John as a thought occurred to me, "Have you asked them about the smokers?" "No, it seemed to me that the more ignorant they thought I was, the more I might learn about them." "I think it would be good to ask them, I imagine they might be the source of the carts that come down from the North. Even th...

In the Valley, almost everything new was named by the children, no one planned it, it just happened that way: by the time we reached the community, the three new arrivals were 'the travellers.' John was chatting with the 'old one', whilst the children were monopolising the 'others'. The 'others' seemed a bit uncomfortable with this, but 8 year old Shelly seemed to be on a mission to wear them down,  showing them doll after hand made wooden doll, she kept in her permanently attached bag, with detailed descriptions, of who they were, their names, what they did, what clothes they had, what clothes they were having made, what furniture they had in the big dolls house at home, and hundreds of other details. The adults were all engaged in conversations, some quiet and discreet others quite loud and raucous. There was something of a party atmosphere, but with an odd undertone. Lilly in particular seemed to be standing back trying to appear disinterested in ...

The travellers changed everything, the dispute if anything got worse, and they gave us all sorts of new excuses to argue. But I get ahead of myself. I should tell first, how the travellers came to our valley. One day, whilst John, Michael and Sally were busy looking west, watching Bossman and the smokers, three figures had walked up the valley from the south east. Mark and Chang, who were helping Terry build the wall had seen them first, following the rout of the old overgrown road, through what had always been known as 'the big village'. Mark had run up to the community with the news. And whilst everyone had walked, or in the case of the children run full pelt down to the nearly complete wall, Mark had continued up to Luke's View to find John. And it was everyone, myself included. These were the first people from outside the Valley any of us had ever seen, without the aid of binoculars and a high vantage point. The new visitors acted in a friendly way, waving to us ...

The 'dispute' really began with John's report to the gathering. The main disagreement concerned as Terry called it, 'letting sleeping dogs lie.' "Why risk announcing ourselves to a potential enemy," John and Lilly were the the champions of the opposing view, that an unknown, 'enemy' was far worse than a known one, but both felt caution, and learning as much as possible before any contact with the people of the valley of frequent smoke, was the best strategy. The first expedition really only showed that a group, could journey close, to the valley of frequent smoke and return safely. Though we also learned that the people there, had fortified their valley with a large wooden gate and watchtowers. After the expedition returned, John and Michael had trekked through the hills to the north of our valley, to a mount we all knew as 'the high hill', John felt sure would allow a good view of the gate: he had been correct. The hill was high eno...

June 18th 15AtD Peters Story of the Day. I asked Peter if Luke's story was true? "Oh yes," he said, "Except for the bit about Jerusalem being hit first, I remember the first bomb falling on Tehran. But: there as many think one, as think the other. I don't think anyone really remembers, properly, we all doubt ourselves listening to the others. And it doesn't really matter, in the end, like luke says, 'they destroyed the world to prove the kindness of their gods.' Death cults all of them. 'The Day' made the details seem unimportant." Peter told stories in a different way to Luke. He sort of invited you in as if he was sharing a secret. He was a farmer down to his bones. And his voice was deep and resonant, as a child I remember thinking his voice sounded like it grew out of the earth. I think I asked him, where he was on, 'The Day', but he might have just told me the story. "I don't remember people thinking there w...

June 15th, 15AtD. Lukes story of the day. Luke tells the story of the day best. "Before, 'The Day', for as long I could remember," he would begin, "there had been TV news stories about the Isms." And there, we children would interrupt, at first because we didn't know things,  but later it became a ritual of the story. Three questions: "What's TV?" And, "What's News?" And "What's Isms?" And Luke would dutifully answer, "A, TV was a screen that could show you people telling stories from anywhere in the world, that anyone in the world could watch. The News was hearing what had really happened, sometimes nearby, sometimes far away. Like listening to Peter giving us news about the crops, but a little bit more exciting." There would be giggles and laughs, and Peter would fold his arms and scowl as if to say, 'you may mock, but them crops feed us all.' Luke's face would become more serious...

June, 10th,  15AtD.  I have no idea how to write a 'history'. The books tell me there are sources, Primary, secondary and so on. They also tell how sources can have 'bias', and so we should be wary of who is writing or speaking, and what stories they might like to tell us, which might not be the truth, or perhaps only a part of the truth. I will do the best I can. I might have a bias myself, so I must tell you something about me, so you can decide how truthful my stories are. I was born about a Year before 'The Day'. Sometimes I think I remember something, but they are like shadows, that slip away when I try and grasp them. I remember nothing of my father, not his name, just sometimes perhaps a face, though it might be someone else. Of my mother I remember a little, a sad face, sometimes warmth, but often deep cold. The sound of her voice, often loving, sometimes angry. Playing Patty Cake. But not being able to wake her, stays most in my mind. Leah, t...