Chapter One

 

Extract from 'A Concise History of the 21st Century' by Aaron Svenson:

 

In retrospect, the outbreak of the Third World War in 2010 was as sadly predictable as that of the first and second had been in the previous century.

This time it wasn't the fault of the European powers. By the beginning of the century, it was clear that attempts to stop nuclear proliferation had failed, and some of the newcomers in the nuclear club were countries run by highly unstable religious fanatics. The dreadful consequences of modern global war were quickly evident after the brief but cataclysmic conflict. The bombs directly resulted in only a fraction of the deaths; the rest came from radiation poisoning, starvation after crops failed, and widespread violence after the breakdown of all semblance of state control.

Virtually every major city in the world was decimated. The few who escaped the bombs, such as Geneva, were still caught by the fall-out. Only a few more remote areas, such as northern Scandinavia, escaped the twin terrors of explosion and radiation. Elsewhere, law and order broke down completely. Violence and starvation claimed as many lives again. The war was never officially ended, it was just forgotten as governments lost control or ran out of bombs.

Local wealthy people quickly raised small private armies to protect themselves. Many of these annihilated each other by making pre-emptive strikes to deal with real or imagined threats. National borders faded from view and gradually a feudal system emerged. Tension eased as the population thinned. It is estimated that in two years the world population halved; over the next ten years it halved again, as much due to a falling birth rate as the spiralling death rate, and continued to fall, until by 2060 it was less than four per cent of what it had been in the year 2000. The few countries which had escaped the worst of the carnage with an intact system of government were forced to close their borders or face being over-run by refugees.

In the wilderness which was now Britain and most countries, there was no law except that imposed by those with private armies, who were now the new Lords of the Manors. Technology was their plaything, something only vaguely remembered by the now downtrodden masses. After all, it was fifty years since the war, and the average life expectancy, except for the lucky few, was well below that age.

The population drop was beginning to slow, but mankind was now back in the Middle Ages. It would be a long time before the climb back to formal civilisation began. ...

 

***** ***** *****

 

Serena Durham surveyed the hot Australian landscape from the rickety old car in which she was travelling and wondered once again if she had done the right thing.

She was twenty years old, and even without make-up she was very lovely. Copper-brown hair framed a face with light blue eyes, an impish nose and full lips covering even white teeth in a sensual mouth. Her body was equally attractive, a lithe figure and firm, full breasts, a trim waist and a gorgeous bottom, all hidden by the shapeless, old and dusty clothes she was wearing. The trouser suit might have been impressive once, but that was a long time ago. It had been her mother's, and possibly her mother's before that. Like most people, she owned very few clothes.

Her father had been a fairly highly ranking officer in the self-styled Earl of Oswestry's army in Shropshire. She had been educated up to the age of fourteen, then went to work in the army kitchens. Her mother had died when she was young, and she was an only child, as most children were: radioactivity had considerably reduced the incidence of pregnancy, and besides, who but the rich could afford several children? With no other close relatives, she and her father were alone.

So when the devastating news came that her father had cancer, and less than a year to live, the blow was even greater. Modern folk, however, lived too much under the shadow of death to grieve for long, and besides, they had to decide what would happen to Serena. Without her father to protect her, the Earldom began to look far less safe. Marriage, despite her beauty, was not on the horizon: there were far more women than men, and many of those men could not afford to marry.

At that point the idea of emigration to Australia looked very attractive. She had an uncle there, and with some small semblance of world communication still in existence, the message had got through that, yes, she would be welcome to join him. In addition, Australia was far more healthy a climate than post-catastrophe Britain: although the main cities had been bombed, the radiation count was far lower. When both your parents die young of radiation-linked diseases, this is a major consideration.

So, as soon as her father had died and been properly buried, she was off. Travel was possible, but horrendously expensive: it was the run by small groups of opportunists who made a fortune from it. Serena's father had arranged the sale of the family house and all their other possessions before he died, and most of the proceeds were swallowed up in getting her to the west coast of Australia. Her last few pieces of gold - now the only international currency - had got her a seat in this doddering old vehicle on its weekly journey across the barren wastelands. It was the equivalent of the old Western stage-coach; two men drove it and guarded her and the other two passengers, both older men, on the last lap of her journey.

It had been a hard journey across England to the coast, then over the ocean. Several times she had been forced to supplement her fare payments with her body. She was not a virgin. On her seventeenth birthday, the Earl had exercised his "droit de signeur" over her, as he did with all the attractive girls within his little kingdom. Her views, and those of her father, on the revival of this ancient custom were irrelevant: they had no real choice in the matter. So she nervously presented herself at his bed-chambers that evening, and he had his fun. Twice since then she had been caught out late at night and raped. Although she knew her attackers, she could do little about it: it was not considered much of a crime in the Earldom unless the girl was injured, and she couldn't complain on that score. She'd also done it voluntarily once or twice with young soldiers she'd met: casual sex no longer carried any social stigma.

For some ten minutes now she had been aware of a cloud of dust on the horizon behind them, and that the elderly car's speed had been increased. She could guess the rest: this was bandit country. (Actually, to be honest, the whole world was bandit country.) But could this ancient rust-trap outrun three men on horses?

In the event, this point became academic. Rounding a bend on the road, they found it blocked by debris strategically placed by the bandits. It wouldn't take long to clear, but by the time the two guards had hauled the foliage out of the way, the raiders were upon them. The guards were armed, but clearly unwilling to make a fight of it. Why should they, when they had nothing valuable of their own to protect, and the bandits might punish any serious resistance? So whilst one bandit covered the two guards, the other two went through the luggage of Serena's two fellow travellers, finding a few items of worth and pocketing them, ignoring the feeble protests of the old men. Serena herself had no valuables, only a small bag of clothing, plus the clothes she stood up in and a last couple of coins hidden in her sandals.

When they had finishing ransacking, the raiders turned their attention to her. She endured their lustful gaze stoically. Then one turned to the other and said,

"Shall we take her?"