No Future Ch. 73

Whatever it was that had defined Tamara's Jewish identity over the years, it wasn't her religious faith. Nor had it been her need to belong to the Jewish community. Her identity was more intangible. It was the sense of a shared tradition and what had been until recently a shared nationality. She'd never troubled herself about her Jewish heritage when she'd actually lived in Israel. It was only after she'd abandoned the nation of her birth to radioactive dust and vengeful Palestinians that she'd become concerned about what it meant to be Jewish.

So what was she now doing, travelling south to the outskirts of London on a dilapidated horse-drawn coach with eighteen other Jews, most of whom devoutly religious, to a kibbutz that had only recently been founded? What had persuaded her to seek refuge within her national and ethnic identity?

Tamara had made a genuine effort to settle down to life as a care worker in Morecambe, but it could never be something she'd really want to do for the rest of her life. Tamara didn't need reminding that itwasa job and that for a refugee from the Middle East such a thing wasn't easy to find, but she was too easily disgusted by the needs of the elderly and incontinent to feel at ease in the nursing profession. Surely there was more to life than this?

And then Tamara heard that there was.

Many of the exiled Israeli citizens scattered throughout the Republic of England had concluded that there was no future for them in the refugee camps that the English government had grudgingly set up to shelter the unfortunate victims of foreign wars. The English had more than enough to worry about without the additional burden of thousands of stateless Israelis, radioactive Palestinians and famished Jordanians. The only possible course of action was for the tribes of Israel settled amongst the dark satanic mills to build a new Jerusalem in England's grey and drizzly land.

And one such place was Epping Forest. Once upon a time it had been a London park, but the law no longer had the power or authority to protect common land from settlement. The police force was overwhelmed by the rather more immediate problems of famine, plague, fire and civil disorder. The rule of law was no more respected or observed than the institutions of government that still debated great matters within Westminster City's reinforced concrete walls.

Tamara had made her northward journey from Surrey to Lancaster in far less time than it would now take her to return south, but that earlier journey had been paid for by the St. John-Easton estate. In comparison to her current travelling conditions, the journey by maglev train from London to Manchester and then by steam train to the faded seaside town of Morecambe had been one of unparalleled luxury. Tamara felt more grand than she'd ever felt before in the company of those so wealthy that they had no difficulty in affording such an expensive mode of transport. The journey south, however, was by a makeshift wagon that had once been a diesel-powered coach now to be pulled all the way by four sturdy farm horses whose real worth would be proven when set to ploughing the fields at the kibbutz towards which the travellers were headed. The roads on which they would travel were mostly pot-holed and sometimes barely roads at all, but at least this route along England's decaying road network was cost-free. It was far too expensive to use the motorways that were generally for the exclusive use of commercial transport and the relatively wealthy. And even if cost was no obstacle, a vehicle such as the one in which Tamara was travelling would never have been permitted through a tollbooth.

The other travellers on the coach came from all around Lancaster and the Lake District. Like Tamara, they'd heard about the expedition from Tobias who was the driver currently sat on the coach roof and urging the horses on. He'd travelled all the way from Epping Forest to the far North West of England on a mission to find suitable new recruits to the kibbutz. In fact, everyone was suitable as long as they were also Jewish.

Tamara walked from Morecambe to Lancaster on her first free day after she'd heard about Tobias' expedition from a co-worker. It was there that the man in whom she would later place her trust was camped out along with the horses that he'd bought from a local farmer and the coach that he'd requisitioned and re-engineered. Although she'd always been sceptical about living and working in a kibbutz, Tamara recognised that she now felt a real need to reassert her national identity. And after so long in the wilderness, she also wanted to live amongst people of the same culture as herself.

"There's no religious aspect to it," said Tobias. "The only thing we have in common is that we are all Jewish and that we want to preserve our Jewish identity."

Tamara could see that although Tobias wore a skull cap, he sported none of the other symbols of an orthodox Jew. He didn't wear a black suit or a white shirt. Nor did he have long sidelocks.

"What about political affiliation?" Tamara wondered. She would rather associate with goyim than spend time with Likud supporters who still blamed the misfortune that had befallen the Israeli state on anyone and everyone other than the Israeli people. Tamara had little patience for those who would happily blame Arabs, Americans and Europeans, but never questioned the conduct of the Israeli government over the preceding century.

"As I say, all we have in common is our Jewish heritage," said Tobias. "There will always be a variety of opinion about the cause for the Second Diaspora, but unless we make an effort to respect our differences then as a people we'll never recover from this setback."

So Tamara was now gathered together with new companions whose characters were exactly as disparate as the greater scattered Jewish community. Some were men, some were women and some were children. Some were orthodox and conservative. Others had opinions rather closer to Tamara's. But Tobias was right. All the travellers had in common with one another was their Jewish heritage.

Tamara had plenty of opportunity to get to know her companions as the coach trundled south along England's wretched roads. Not one of her companions shared the same opinion on the fate and fortune of the Jewish people with anyone else. By all accounts, the last two decades following the nuclear war had been universally traumatic. Tamara's experience was by no means unique, even though most of the others had lived in England for many more years than her. In fact, by virtue of having emigrated from the Promised Land within only the last decade Tamara had the distinction of being the person on the coach with the most recent connection with the land of their shared heritage.

"You still had to carry radiation masks after all those years?" commented Aaron whose parents had left Israel long before even the firebombing of Damascus.

"The main worry wasn't radiation," said Tamara. "We were more worried about the Palestinian gangs who'd shoot you as soon as they saw you, unless you were a woman. In that case, you'd be shot only after you were raped."

"Gruesome! How did you cope?"

"We never went anywhere without a gun."

"Rather like now," said Aaron who nodded his head towards the armoury of rifles, baseball bats and pitchforks that Tobias had loaded onto the bus.

"Exactly."

It was indisputable that Tobias' precautions were necessary. Indeed, nobody would have agreed to accompany him on the arduous trek south unless they were well armed. England was a lawless country at the best of times, but the general population displayed so much naked resentment towards immigrants that a coachload of Jews would be easy prey to almost any kind of violent gang. The gangs to be most feared were those associated with the Muslim communities of big cities such as Manchester, Birmingham and Swindon. It was for that reason that the journey deliberately skirted the large conurbations and took a rather circuitous route.

The journey was an opportunity for Tamara to get a view of the English countryside that she'd never seen before. Her previous excursions across the Republic had been at a much faster pace, but now she was able to appreciate the fields and pastures of rural England where rustic labourers were busy tilling the soil. Horses much like the ones pulling the coach were dragging ploughs through the mud. Occasionally, a dog or small child would run out from a village and chase after the coach but generally they were left alone. Sometimes stones would be thrown at the coach by idle youths who didn't have much else to do when they weren't working in the fields or hunting deer or feral cattle in the woods.

At night, Tobias would find a parking spot by the road that was already populated by other travellers' makeshifts carriages and rickshaws. One of the men would take up guard duty. Tamara wasn't too upset when her half-hearted attempt at volunteering for duty was rebuffed. Although it was definitely sexist to assume that a man was better than a woman at scaring off would-be aggressors, the risk from armed gangs was absolutely genuine.

Although there was other traffic on the road, the roads were nothing like as busy as they'd been in an earlier age when people routinely drove to out-of-town shopping centres and sped constantly along the nation's highways and by-ways. Those were the days when fuel was cheaper, incomes were higher and the motorways hadn't yet all been privatised. Nowadays, the traffic was mostly animal- or bicycle-driven, though there sometimes passed the occasional gasoil and battery powered vehicle, mostly hastening as fast as it could from the motorway to a private gated community. On one occasion, a cavalcade of motorbikes and heavily armoured black vehicles came thundering by. At first Tamara wondered whether it was an army convoy of the kind that was so common in Israel when she was a child at the start of the nuclear war, but it was nothing more than a wealthy landlord or Chief Executive Officer returning from his office in a Business Park to a mansion somewhere in the Cheshire countryside. Such vehicles were designed for civilian use but were often accompanied by well-armed motorcycle outriders. It wasn't at all unknown for an armed gang of highwaymen to seize a passing carriage and demand a ransom.

When the coach was flagged down as it passed by the outskirts of Stafford, Tamara naturally feared that it was by a gang of highway robbers. The men were clearly fully tooled up and it was obvious that the travellers wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight against them. Tobias removed his skull-cap and jumped off the coach to address the armed men. Tamara could see through the cracked windscreen glass that the men were mostly young. Only a minority were white-skinned. Some were black and some, Tamara noticed with a thud of dread at the back of her throat, wore head-dresses and sported thick beards. They were almost certainly Muslims, although at least one was a Sikh.

While Tobias was talking to the men his girlfriend, Uma, walked up and down the coach and talked to each passenger individually. She spoke urgently and in a low voice. Tamara noticed that Talman—a Hassidic Jew with a black hat and sidelocks—was especially agitated. Uma didn't engage in further discussion with him and strode swiftly along the bus to the next person.

"What's going on?" asked Tamara when Uma finally got to her.

"We don't think there's anything to worry about," said Uma. "Especially not you, Tammy. There's been a local war between gang-members in Stafford and in Telford in neighbouring Shropshire. Several people have been murdered and these people are simply guarding the town against what they call the Tellies."

"Tellies?"

"Apparently people in Telford watch a lot of television," said Uma. "However, we still have to be careful. You must have noticed that there are several Muslims in the gang. They're of Pakistani origin I think, so they won't have a specific grudge against Israel, but they're young and potentially hot-headed."

"So...?"

"I don't think I have to spell it out," said Uma. "Two or more of them will almost certainly board the bus to search for Tellies. They'll probably be rude and they might ask awkward questions. What you mustn't do, whatever happens, is make apparent to them that we're a coachload of Jews who're travelling south to a kibbutz. And we most certainly mustn't admit to being Israeli. It's all the excuse they need."

Tamara nodded. It was what she expected.

It was ironic that Tamara had joined this expedition in the hope that she would no longer need to deny her Jewish identity, but now found that this was something she still had to do.