Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve

by Baillie, Owen

  The kids talked loud and giggled. Mac had to smile. Glancing back at David and the others, Mac read the expression of relief on their faces. He felt it too. They were finally going to have some safety; most importantly, his kids would have security. Even if Jess wasn’t there, he knew Shelli would opt to stay and the kids could stay with her. After the devastation of Mole Creek, finding this site was a massive pick-me-up. It could have easily been in as bad a condition as the military site. They had gambled their run down here; they had outsmarted the young hoods and made it before them. Mac felt like he could contribute, too. He had skills, experience, weapons, and ammunition.

  Mac noticed a car parked off to the side and five people standing beside it. One stood with his hands on his hips, talking up to the man in the turret. Mac checked on David again and stopped the car in the middle of the road about twenty yards short of the entrance. Why weren’t they opening the gates for the group? An uneasy feeling awoke in Mac.

  “Let’s stretch our legs.”

  Mac climbed out of the car and the kids did the same, bouncing and shouting with excitement. Mac turned back to the others as David waited for Meryl and Shelli. As they approached, Mac read David’s expression as he looked beyond to the gates.

  “Problem?” David asked.

  “Not sure yet.”

  Mac led them towards the discussion. As he passed the hood of the Nissan, he realized the man standing with his hands on his hips could be Jim.

  “Jim?”

  The man turned with a deep scowl. When he recognized Mac, his face broke into a smile and he started forward. They met and shook hands. Mac did the same with Dan.

  “Glad you guys made it here.” Mac assumed the two young girls were Jim’s daughters.

  “You haven’t found your wife yet?” Jim asked.

  Mac shook his head. “No. But I’m hoping she’s in there.” He pointed towards the gates. “Can you believe this place actually exists?”

  “You might have to wait a while to find out,” Jim said. “They won’t let us in.”

  “What?” The uneasy feeling stirred in Mac’s gut. A second man had arrived in the turret and they both looked down at the group, their guns lowered. “What’s the problem?”

  “Apparently they’re not letting anyone else in. Too full or some rubbish.”

  Mac started towards the gates, suppressing his growing anxiety. “Let me give it a go.” He stopped a few yards short of the entrance so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck too much looking up at the men. “How goes it?”

  “All right,” one of the men said. He wore a baseball cap and had a dark moustache.

  “What’s the deal with getting inside this place? My friend tells me you won’t let him in.”

  “I’m sorry,” the man said. “We just follow the rules here. We don’t make ’em.”

  Mac tightened his jaw. “And what are the rules?”

  The second man stepped in front of Baseball Cap. He had thinning blonde hair that was long at the back, like rat tails, and balding on top. “Look, buddy, we can’t let ya in just now. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see what we can do.”

  “What changes tomorrow?”

  He shrugged, spat off the back of the turret into the site. “People leave, you know?”

  Mac turned to Jim whose expression said, Told you so. Mac turned back. “Listen, mate, we’ve been through a hell of a lot just to be standing here right now. We’ve lost people—good people. Our kids need a safe place. Why can’t they use the safety of this place? What gives anyone else more right than them?”

  “We all have, sir,” Baseball Cap said. “And we’d like nothing more than to open those gates and let you in, but the place is full. Hell, we’ll get kicked out if we go against orders.”

  “Orders? Who’s running the joint?” Neither man said anything.

  Mac cursed himself inwardly for what he was about to say next. He hated telling people about his military background, but in this case, it might help, and they needed it. “I know a bit about orders myself, boys. I was a member of the Special Operations Task Group from the 2nd Commando Regiment with four tours of Afghanistan. We’ve got some nifty weapons in the back that could really help.”

  Baseball Cap considered this. He glanced at Rat Tails and then back at Mac. “I really am sorry.”

  Mac cursed under his breath. He felt himself slipping towards the edge of anger. He was losing control of it. Being full was not a good reason to put all their lives in jeopardy. They were just being stubborn about it. He thought about another approach.

  “Look, my wife is missing. I think she may be inside. Can I take quick look? Just me—I won’t be long.”

  Rat Tails stepped forward and grabbed the railing of the turret. “We can’t let you in today. No matter what you say or do, we’re just not allowed.”

  Mac realized these two men were not going to be able to grant admission. Somebody higher than them was setting the rules. He stepped forward. “Get me someone more senior then. Who’s making these rules? I want to talk to them.”

  Neither man moved. That was it for Mac. “I’ll give you sixty seconds. You can either fetch me someone to talk with about these rules, or I walk to the back of that car,” he pointed a stiff finger at the Nissan, “remove my automatic assault weapon, and unload a few mags into that gate.” He breathed, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “Now get me someone who can open this gate.”

  The men gave each other a look, and Baseball Cap tipped his head inside the facility. Rat Tails disappeared. “Won’t be a few minutes.”

  Mac walked in a circle, glancing at the others, who had moved back to their vehicles in their separate groups. This was not going well. He hadn’t wanted to use his military experience to coax them or threaten the gates with a weapon. The kids had climbed back into the car. Shelli frowned with concern, and David and Meryl talked quietly. Jim stood near Mac. Dan, Jim’s daughters, and the other man leant against the duco in soft conversation.

  A minute later, a man with dark, slicked-back hair appeared on the turret. He wore a business shirt and stood with his hands behind his back. Mac knew his type immediately. Bossy, pompous, overbearing. He’d met numerous warrant officers like that in the military.

  “Are you in charge of this place?” Mac asked.

  The man hesitated. “Nothing official, but yes, I make decisions.”

  “Are you the one who decided not to let any more people in today?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yes. I did. We have a process for new entrants. If we let everyone in without any sort of screening process, the place would go to hell.”

  Mac chuckled. If he didn’t, he’d lose his shit. “In case you haven’t noticed, mate, humanity’s gone to pieces. And don’t you think we need to help each other so the human race doesn’t end up extinct?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  Even Jim laughed at that. “Dramatic? So, we’re not fighting for survival?”

  “We’re fighting, but no, I don’t think so. Not for survival.”

  Mac shook his head. He wasn’t giving up, but this clown was probably the reason bureaucracy was so ineffective. Rules and rules and more rules.

  “Won’t you let us in? Please.” He waved a hand towards the Nissan again, and then over at Jim and his kids. “We have children out here. They need the safety of the place you’ve created.”

  The man raised his eyebrows. He liked the sound of that, Mac thought.

  “How do we know you’re not infected?”

  “I give you my word. None of us are bitten or sick.”

  “The infected don’t always show symptoms immediately. We admitted a lady last week, and she didn’t get sick for two days. Six people were killed because of her. I’m not prepared to take that risk again. You come back tomorrow, and we’ll see how you look, and then the next day, and after that we’ll start to talk.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Mac spat. “Can’t you just let us in and lock us in a corner un
til we’re clear? Better than staying out here.”

  The man seemed to consider this, but then shook his head. Mac walked in a circle, hands on head. He’d just about run out of patience.

  “I suggest you drive up the road a little way and settle into one of the old buildings outside the perimeter. There are others up there doing the same. This sort of thing happens every day.”

  Mac felt his anger stir. He clenched his fists. He was losing control now. He started towards the gate, looking up at the man.

  “Mac?” Jim called out.

  But Mac was too focused on the slick-haired man at the top of the turret. “Sure, mate. I’ll drive up the road with my kids and hope we don’t run into any of the infected. And when one of them gets bitten, I’ll come back down here and make sure you know all about it.” He started banging on the gates with the bottom of his fists. The sound boomed. “NOW OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!”

  “Stand down, sir, or we’ll shoot.”

  “You’ll shoot? I’ll fuckin’ shoot.” He slammed the side of his fist against the door once, twice, three times.

  He stormed off towards the Nissan, hearing the faint words of one of the men in the turret suggesting he might be infected after all. Jim said something, but Mac didn’t catch it. The rage he mostly kept buried deep inside had snuck through the walls he usually kept around it. Leaving Jess and not knowing where she was or even if she was alive, having to kill his mother, his father dying, Dutch, Robbo, and Smitty going the same way, the constant fear of losing the kids. It had compounded, day after day, looking for a way out, and now, the crack had appeared, and it rushed forth like a dam bursting.

  Mac passed the kids sitting in the backseat. Both had expressions of fear, their tiny brows furrowed, Ashleigh’s eyes glassy. Mac reached the trunk and yanked it open, knocking his hand on the lip. Pain shot up his arm, but it couldn’t overcome the anger. Instead, he smashed his fist on the underside. The metal clunked. He tossed items aside, looking for the M4.

  Jim had crept closer and said something, but Mac wasn’t listening. He ripped a bag out of the trunk and tossed it on the ground. But still, he couldn’t locate the automatic weapon. He stood there a moment, trying not to let the rage take him to a new level.

  Just as he lifted one of Ashleigh’s soft toys out of the way, he remembered the M4 was between the front seats. He left the trunk and went to the driver’s door and yanked it open. He snatched out the M4 and tightened his grip. A softer noise, somehow familiar, sounded. This one he did hear. He looked into the back seat and saw Ashleigh crying. Shelli was there too, moving towards him.

  “Mac?” The lines in her forehead and eyes made an expression Mac had never seen before. “It’s all right, Mac. We’re not under threat, yet.” His anger stalled. “We’re still kickin’. We can get by from here.”

  Mac felt his grip on the M4 loosen. “What then, Shell? Do we fight? Stay and wait? Leave? I’m all out of rational answers.”

  “We have to be sensible about this. They’re not saying no, we can’t ever come in, but they wanna be sure. I can sort of understand that.”

  Turning toward the gates, Mac saw the three men still standing atop the turret. “So, what? We just wait it out like he said?”

  Shelli shrugged. “You going to shoot down the door and compromise all those people inside? They’ll never let us in. I’m not sure that’s in anyone’s best interests, Mac.”

  His anger still bubbled, but Mac knew Shelli was right. This wasn’t the way. He put the automatic weapon back between the front seats and gently closed the door. He caught Jim’s gaze and saw relief in his eyes. Ashleigh and Tyler leapt out of the backseat and crunched him with hugs.

  “I’m sorry, kids,” he said while Ashleigh sobbed. “Find out where this building is, can you, Jim?”

  Jim nodded.

  “Come on, kids, back in the car. Another five minutes, and we’ll stop for a bit.” He adjusted his grip on expectations. If they could just get through a day or two, they’d be safe. And it didn’t appear to have too many infected about the place.

  Jim finished speaking to the men on the turret and convened with Mac, David, Shelli, and Meryl.

  “Two minutes’ drive up that way,” he said, pointing into heavy scrub.

  Mac looked across all their faces. “I’m sorry about that. I was… out of line. It got the better of me.”

  David waved a hand. “If it were me in your shoes, I’d have lost my shit a long time ago.”

  With a thin smile, Mac said, “It won’t happen again.”

  They climbed in and Mac fell into the driver’s seat. Suddenly, he felt a wave of weariness, as if his explosion had tipped him over the edge. He sat for a moment, gathering himself, then turned the 4x4 on and reversed out onto the road.

  He led the others away from the gate and took the first road about fifty yards from where they had parked. It was a smaller, narrower laneway with trees overhanging the thin layer of bitumen.

  They turned down the road in a mini convoy. Mac followed the winding laneway for a minute or so, and as they turned a particularly sharp curve, a throng of infected appeared in the middle of the road like a herd of cows on a paddock trail. Mac planted the anchors. The kids in the back lurched forward until their belts tightened.

  Mac checked the mirror to see if David driving the sedan, and then Jim, in his trusty Ford Territory, had braked safely. They had, but what Mac saw beyond Jim’s vehicle prickled the fine hairs on the back of his neck. Pulling in behind was a blue sedan with white stripes, a second vehicle following closely. It was the young men from the hunting and camping store. Mac and the others had nowhere to go.

  44

  January 12, 2014

  7:29 pm

  Arthur Highway, Port Arthur, Tasmania

  As Tammy passed the two-mile sign for Port Arthur Historic Site, she pushed herself to go faster. She refused to give up on the hope that the historic site was where people had set up a refuge and not the town of Port Arthur itself. Otherwise, she didn’t know whether she’d make it the extra few miles.

  She glanced back and saw the single infected that had started following her at Eaglehawk Neck had grown into countless. She didn’t know exactly how many but suspected it had to be more than two hundred. And whilst Tammy couldn’t be sure, they appeared to be working in a kind of pack. She had hoped the winds of luck would blow her way and she’d get there without them catching up.

  When the first few had joined the original infected, she had quickened her speed and begun to outpace them, but the miles had diminished at the pace of a sloth and despite her base fitness, her legs had grown weary. So, Tammy had slowed down until she was just out of reach.

  At first, she had thought that if this place was widely known, somebody would drive on by and pick her up, but there had been no passing cars. There had been a single parked car at a place called Mason’s Cottages, but it had been locked. Tammy had considered breaking a window but couldn’t see any keys. She’d found a second at the Norfolk Bay Convict Bed & Breakfast. This one was open but no keys. Each time she stopped, she was conscious of the time she spent fossicking around as the number of infected continued to grow. Each time she finished, she forced herself to jog for a bit, just to increase the gap again.

  She had come to the tiny town of Taranna facing a swarm of infected all over the road and a dozen more planted outside the general store. It forced Tammy to divert her course off the blacktop and walk through the scrub for a time until she had passed them. She spied an old drinking tap hanging off the back of a broken tin shed and, after running the water for over a minute, it cleared from brown and she gulped down clear Tasmanian water. When she reconnected with the road, her breath caught in her throat when she saw the two groups had converged and now a much larger number walked in her footsteps. This had further strengthened her theory that they were working as a pack.

  She hurried then, glancing over her shoulder often as she passed through long stretches of the Arthur Highway w
ith its wide, dry grass paddocks and rolling hills sketching the blue horizon. A distant farmhouse stood on a hill, peering across the valley from its faded brown boards. It looked as though it had seen better days, holes in the roof, part of the front veranda collapsed. Would anybody be there? Tammy wondered. She doubted it and couldn’t justify going off course for potentially no reward.

  The heat had disappeared and a south-westerly breeze blew, whipping the ends of her grey-blonde hair about. The stench of the infected sullied every breath. She thought about Shane and the others who had left her. Since the breakdown of society had begun, Tammy had consistently tried to support the people around her. It was, after all, her purpose in life to serve the people. Now though, it seemed to have all been in vain. They had all left, including her damn husband. She was completely alone. For most, it would have gotten the better of them, but not Tammy. She prided herself on her resilience and would strive to help people again.

  To ease the burden on her feet, Tammy walked on the highway shoulder in the stumpy shadows of wispy grass, the squelch of her shoes on the fine gravel loud in the countryside silence. Before the sun had almost completed its descent, she had passed two more abandoned gas stations, both inhabited by more than one infected. She had considered using the screwdriver to kill the two that stood outside the gas station store, but her risk-averse character had gotten the better of her. More water would have to wait.

  Tammy felt a burst of hope when she saw the first glistening smile of the sea in the faint light of dusk. It came to a point right up to the edge of the road, but quickly widened. Named Long Bay, it appeared calm and pleasant, and in another eight or so miles it opened out into the Southern Ocean. Next stop was Antarctica. She knew from here, it was probably only about three miles to the Port Arthur Historical Site.