With clenched teeth, Darren turned around awkwardly and fired another fist at Shane. The younger man caught it and pushed Darren away.
Charlie, who was much taller than either man, stepped in between the two, using his bulk to separate them. “That’s enough.”
“We’re stronger in numbers,” Tammy said. “Strength in unity. You look like a union man, Shane. Surely you could understand that?”
For the first time, a glimmer of recognition flashed over Shane’s face. “Look, I get that part, but why would you want to go to Port Arthur when the army place is north and an hour closer. That makes no sense.”
It was time for Tammy to lay her cards out. “The thing started in the north, okay? People in Devonport were getting infected before people in Hobart. And I know Hobart has forty percent of the population, but we can avoid it, and Port Arthur is much further to the south and isolated. We run as far south as possible and try to get way from these bloody things.” The sting had gone out of the confrontation, despite Shane’s comment.
Shane said, “Well, we can’t go with you.” He turned and indicated a group of people in his general vicinity, including one or two Tammy had not expected. “We’re going north, to Mole Creek. We all agree that’s our best bet.”
“With what?” Momentarily, Tammy wondered if he might suggest they take the minibus. “Plenty of cars in the lot over there at the hardware store.” Shane began to walk away. “Come on,” he said to the others.
“Please,” Tammy said, reaching out to the girl who had earlier suggested Port Arthur. “Don’t—”
“Leave her alone,” Shane said, his face twisted with annoyance. “Let her make her own choice.”
The group of six left the fuel station awning and walked across the concrete to the parking lot of the hardware store. Tammy turned away. Darren unhitched one of the fuel pumps and started filling the minibus.
“Let them go,” he said.
“They can do whatever they want. It’s a free country.”
But Tammy was disappointed. Even though Shane was a troublemaker, it hurt that they had decided to part ways. In Tammy’s eyes, they had no trust in her. It was a lack of faith in her leadership. This, on the back of her failures as a politician and the dysfunction of her marriage, eroded her confidence.
Darren said, “Can you grab a plastic jerry can from inside the shop? I want to keep a spare.”
Tammy left Darren and walked towards the fuel station store. She feigned a smile at another couple filling their black sedan with supplies. Two kids peered out the back window with mouthfuls of candy. The store was generally in good condition, despite one of the front window panels having been smashed in. But there were no plastic containers for fuel left, no water, batteries, and only a small flashlight. She took a handful of snacks and wandered back to the minibus, peering beyond the wide fuel station undercover area and saw Shane and the others had found two cars already.
She reached Darren, who had just finished filling the minibus. He glanced at her, saying, “That should get us to Port Arthur. No containers?”
Tammy shook her head. “I don’t get that guy. Have I convinced myself Port Arthur is the only place to go? Tell me honestly, what do you think?”
“I’m easy-going. I don’t have a preference, and I think anywhere we go, these things are going to exist.” He looked out from underneath the awning to the hardware carpark. “Port Arthur makes sense for two reasons. One, it’s quite remote; there isn’t a lot of people down there. Two, you have that narrow neck of land from the upper part of Tasmania. That might be a real advantage.”
“When you say it like that… perhaps you should have tried to convince them.”
The two cars circled around and parked at fuel pumps. The younger girl got out of one of the cars and walked around to the bowser. Shane was hidden on the other side of the second vehicle. Tammy had to try one more time. When the girl saw Tammy approach, she looked uncomfortable.
“Listen, Deb, are you sure you won’t stay with us?”
“I’m sorry, Tammy. I get along well with Paul, and he wants to go with Shane and the others.”
“Paul is the reason?” Debra nodded. “Nothing else?”
“I promise if he wasn’t here I’d be sticking with you.” She glanced across at the other car. “Shane gives me the creeps.”
Tammy read her expression. Deb didn’t divert her eyes, and she no longer seemed uncomfortable. That was something. Deb hadn’t lost faith in Tammy.
There were other cars pulling into the fuel station now, including a huge Ford Bronco with a caravan on the back.
“I wish you all the best.” She gave Deb a hug. “Take care and travel safe. Don’t let the others make you do anything too dangerous.” Deb smiled. “You never know, we might catch up later on.”
Darren waved her over. They were ready to pull out. Now, there were only five of them, including Darren and Charlie. Tammy hated the smaller numbers but there was nothing she could do about it now.
24
January 11, 2014
6:35 pm
Mole Creek, Tasmania
Mac left the group and ran, stooped, towards the perimeter fence. He planned to take the same approach they had used to reach the second tent, allowing them to avoid contact with the infected by hugging the outer fence. Mac estimated the number of infected on this side of the site had increased significantly due to their exposure. And they were more restless, now moving in lines and clusters in and out of the tents and between the army supply trucks parked randomly across the field. As Mac stopped beside the massive front wheel of one, he squatted and peered underneath the carriage back towards Smitty and the others. Some of the infected had broken away and pursued his friend.
“Keep them movin’, mate.”
There was nobody Mac thought better to be helping them escape. Smitty would lay down his life before letting anything happen to them. Mac silently wished them well and stepped around the front of the big truck then crossed to a series of small supply boxes, which he used as cover. His plan was to check the other tent both David and the man with glasses had mentioned, and conclude if Jess was there or not. He didn’t expect to find her, either, but if he left now without knowing, it would eat away at him until he discovered her fate, or it drove him mad.
Mac zigzagged between objects before reaching the tent without confrontation and slipped along the front until he arrived at the entrance. The canvas opening flapped in the breeze. He poked his head into the darkness and waited for his eyes to adjust.
The smell hit first. Then the images materialized, showing total carnage. Bodies lay strewn across the floor. Two infected fed on the dead with their backs turned to the door. A combination of anger and terror filled Mac. He hoped Jess wasn’t among them, but he had to find out. From the doorway, he couldn’t be sure. He would need to kill the infected to take a proper look.
Mac slipped inside the entrance, careful not to make a noise, and moved through the butchery towards the closest feeder, scanning the faces and bodies of the dead for signs of Jess. He needed to make it silent and quick, so as not to alert the other infected. He took his knife from its sheath and dispatched the first infected with a thrust to the side of the head. The thing crumpled to the floor. Mac leapt over bodies to the second, which had noticed him, and he drove the knife into its neck. It fell backwards over another body and lay still. Mac wiped the knife on the thing’s trousers and re-sheathed it.
He stepped through the dead, a gap between an arm and a torso, another amid an ankle and a head. He examined their faces, looking for Jess, his internal clock racing, knowing if he took too long, there would be an army of them waiting for him.
She wasn’t there. None of the sad faces were his wife’s. Mac stopped in the centre of the room, breathing hard, a white knuckled fist gripping the gun barrel. He did a quick check for any ammo for the M4, but the place was empty. He had to go.
Mac headed for the door, not even checking the situation beyo
nd the tent before he stepped outside into the pale sunlight, the glare momentarily overwhelming as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light. He peered into the distance and saw the third and final tent of the three still standing with the sides torn down and the infected wandering within. There was little point checking it and engaging the infected without ammo in the M4.
Gun in hand, Mac jogged right, confident he could outrun the slow infected all the way to the entrance gate. It had been another fruitless search, and he buried the emerging feelings of failure and abandonment. As for what had happened to Jess, Mac simply couldn’t consider that right now. Once he was back with the kids and going someplace else, he could think about how next to look for her. His fresh failure was too raw.
The infected were all around, but Mac moved between the cover of tents and parked trucks, and when there was nothing for cover, he ran through their broken lines and small gatherings with speed and efficiency, and by the time they realised, Mac had passed. He tried the doors of one truck and found half a dozen .223 shells that he feed into the M4’s magazine. Better than nothing.
Reaching the first tent where he had left Smitty and the others, Mac reconnected on the same path they had likely taken. The distant sound of a shotgun sounded. One, two.
Mac sprinted alongside the canvas structure, shoving aside several infected he could not avoid, and reached a small clearing at the back of tent three that gave him a view across a wide expanse of field towards and beyond, to the site entrance. It was here Mac spotted commotion ahead, a cluster of the people Mac had left with Smitty, and within them, the infected, breaking up the group as they groped and grabbed for flesh. The shrill sound of screaming floated to Mac. Several people were on the ground either on all fours or lying motionless.
His heart began to race. Where was Smitty? Mac did a recount of those he could see, but Smitty wasn’t among them. At the rear of the group, something moved with the speed and fluidity that put fear into Mac. It was one of them. The fast ones. Mac knew it. Where the fuck was Smitty?
Mac ran, setting the M4 to single-round shots and reminding himself he now had six rounds in it. He would need them all to go head-to-head with this thing. By the time he drew within twenty yards, the group had begun to disperse, those who hadn’t been attacked running towards the entrance. It still looked like a big melee in a football match. Several people lay dead on the ground with the infected fighting over their fresh bodies.
Mac spotted the dangerous one at the back on all fours with several others but could not see what was happening. Closest to him, a woman had managed to climb to her feet with a grisly-faced infected man clinging onto her pink t-shirt. She screamed and tried to break the grip with a wild swinging backward fist. A second infected came at her from the front, and she tried to retreat, but went straight into the grip of the first. Mac approached, turning the shotgun around and slamming the butt of it into the head of the infected. It lost hold and fell away. The front one turned at him, and he did the same and suddenly the woman was free.
“Go,” Mac said. She staggered away.
He thrust the hard, angled end of the M4 repeatedly as he worked his way through the brawl, conscious that he was moving closer to the aggressive type. Others needed his help, and as he freed them, they climbed to their feet when they could and staggered clear of the fight. One of the infected wouldn’t let go and Mac was forced to shoot it in the back of the head. The man underneath was bitten, though, and Mac couldn’t do anything for him.
The shot had alerted the other infected. Some abandoned their task and came for him, as though directed by some unseen force. Mac retreated, unable to handle the remaining infected at once, and fired his second round, blowing the guts out of the closest, a gangly teenage boy with curly hair tied back in a bushy ponytail.
Mac ran wide of the group and spotted the aggressive one as it stood up from its feast. This revealed his prey, and Mac recognised Smitty lying on the ground, unmoving. The coldest terror struck him. Eyes locked on Smitty’s body, Mac staggered a step, disbelief washing over him as he came to a stop.
He knew in that moment Smitty was dead. Rage filled Mac’s every fibre. He let out a primal scream and sprinted towards the pack from twenty yards, knocking the infected clear with his elbows and shoulders. He raised the gun as the thing that had killed Smitty started towards him, its bald head gleaming, sunken eyes dark like the pits of hell. It opened its mouth wider than Mac thought possible, like the old footage of the last Tasmanian Tiger, revealing sharp teeth, and it roared, the sounds chilling Mac’s skin.
He pulled the trigger.
Despite its lightning speed, the thing had no time to avoid the round at five yards. The shot struck it in the chest, opening up a bloody wound and knocking it down. The thing hit the grass on its back, and Mac kept going, adjusting his aim towards its head. With the other infected clawing at his shirt, he reached the monster and put the muzzle to its face. It knew Mac had its measure, cheeks rising and falling as it sucked in air, those burning black eyes taking it all in, as if sizing up Mac to see if he would do it.
But Mac wasn’t there for an assessment. He pressed the gun hard into its nose, forcing the infected to turn its head, and pulled the trigger, putting a red hole in the centre of its forehead. The body twitched and jerked. Breathing hard, Mac turned to face the other infected, swinging the gun around with the practiced efficiency of a man who has handled weapons the way most people handle their car keys. Two infected confronted him and now Mac shot them both in the neck, severing their existence, and they crumpled into the yellowing grass with the other dead.
Several more remained feeding on the fallen with no interest in Mac. Food was abundant. Others were swarming from a distance, and as Mac surveyed them, he spotted one in particular moving quickly towards him, long, black hair trailing behind. It wore tight denim shorts and the muscles in its legs bunched and popped.
“Oh, shit.”
It was another of the aggressive type, and Mac was reminded of the two at Jim’s school. They run in pairs.
He backed away, forcing himself to look down at Smitty as he passed. The glassy eyes of his friend stared at the sky, and Mac choked down a lump in his throat. He thought about taking Smitty’s body, but the thing was getting closer, and Mac had no ammunition left. Every instinct told him to stay and fight for the respect of his mate, but his kids were outside waiting, and if Mac ended up beaten, they would be alone in the world with only Shelli to take care of them. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m sorry, old mate. Sorry I couldn’t save you.” He reached down and closed Smitty’s eyes forevermore. As he stood, he noticed Smitty’s shotgun and scooped it up.
As he had done so effectively before, Mac ran, weaving through the wandering infected with ease, reaching those people who had survived the attack quickly and leading them the fifty or so remaining yards to the entrance. Only four people had survived, which for Mac, was a tragedy. Including Smitty, they had lost half. He wondered what the hell had happened, how it had gone from eight to four in a matter of minutes. But it was not over yet.
At the entrance, a small gathering of infected remained. Mac would need to do some work with the unloaded M4. He handed Smitty’s shotgun to the most able-looking person, a teenage girl who had the strong legs and shoulders of an athlete.
“You know how to swing a bat?” Mac asked.
She cocked an eyebrow. “I play cricket, mate. You bet.”
Behind, a slow trail of the sick had started after them. Mac intended the survivors being on the other side of that fence before they arrived. He ran ahead and slugged the first infected. It fell on its knees, and he gave it another one across the back of the head, feeling the skin and bone sink under the force. Then the girl was at his side, and she wasn’t kidding about her ability to swing a bat, striking a man whose belly stuck from the bottom of his short t-shirt across the head in one swift motion.
“Nice one.”
They made quick work of the
others, and David opened the gates so they could slip through before securing the steel barriers with the chain again. The older man looked around, remembering Smitty, and gave Mac a questioning look. Mac shook his head and looked away.
“I’m sorry to see,” David said.
Mac went to the kids and hugged them both tightly, supressing the picture of Smitty lying on the grass. He couldn’t deal with that yet. But he knew what was coming next.
“Where’s Smitty?” Tyler asked.
Mac explained, his voice gravelly and tired. Ashleigh cried. Tyler scratched the corner of his eyes but did not shed a tear. Then he squeezed his arms around Mac’s waist with surprising intensity.
“Me too, mate,” he said, tousling Tyler’s hair. “Me too.”
It was almost fully dark now, the last of the sun’s glow behind the mountains providing light. It was the kind of light that follows a summer barbecue, where lamb chop bones and leftover ketchup and a dirty barbecue sit as people kick back in cane chairs and reminisce; a time Mac and so many others had taken for granted.
The infected had gathered at the fence again. In the distance, down the road they had used to reach the site, where overhanging trees cast more shadows, Mac watched two more shapes strolling towards them between the abandoned vehicles. He knew from the way they moved they were not human. Soon, as sure as the sun would come up tomorrow, there would be more, and they’d never, ever stop coming for them. Mac looked back into the site for the aggressive infected but could not find it.
“We have to go,” Mac said. David, Meryl and Mac stood together as the kids climbed back into the car. “We’ve got space for one. I can take the girl who helped me clear the infected.”
“We can fit the other three,” David said. “But I’m not sure they want to come.”
Turned out only the girl wanted anything to do with them. She joined David and Meryl, who were happy to follow Mac for now. His plan was to find a lodge out of Mole Creek, where Shelli and Ken had once stayed, and work out their next move from there. But Mac couldn’t shake the thought of the other aggressive type and where it might be.
Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve Page 16