by M C Rooney
Bong closed his eyes and contemplated the Universe again. What that young man, Tom, had said had thrown him a little. He couldn’t prove anything that he believed. It all could be just a coincidence.
But Bong had always noticed the way life would drop hints to him that there was something more. His dreams were almost all random events of nothingness, but occasionally, seemed to point him in a certain direction or give him advice on relationships. Up until he met Frizel, of course; she was perfect for him. He would think about a person, and then, in the next few minutes, that person would show up. Or he would think of someone he hadn’t seen in years, and on that day, news about them would come to him. Coincidence maybe, but the amount of times it had happened made it more than that in his mind. He noticed when you were angry or fearful, the number of bad things would increase.
‘It comes in threes,’ the elders would say.
His mother, who had lived through and survived the Collapse, had told him often, ‘Why don’t you knock it off with them negative waves. Always with the negative waves,’ she would say.
He had seen people have the same bad relationships over and over again. How was it possible that they kept meeting the same type of person in a different body? Or, on the other side of the coin, whenever he was at peace and happy, life would seem to travel along in a much less stressful state. Was this a coincidence? He knew many people who noticed the same thing, so it wasn’t just him.
When his dear mother did eventually die, he was lying on his bedroll crying, and suddenly, it had felt like someone put a blanket around his shoulder, and a feeling of peace overcame him. He knew it wasn’t his own mind. Well, if it was, he wished he could do that every day because that feeling of peace was pure bliss. Maybe he was hoping there was some point to all this, but in his heart, he felt he wasn’t alone. The departed did care about him, and with that thought, he focused on what was needed today.
Relaxing the muscles on his body, he then focused on his mind, his thoughts; he reached deep within himself and heard the word … Death. Bong’s eyes immediately opened.
“What do you mean death?” he muttered to himself.
He looked down at his body and pinched his skin and felt a twinge of pain.
“Well, I’m not dead,” he said. “Frizel, Freebird?” he cried out.
“What?” he heard Frizel reply.
“Are you dead?” he yelled.
“I bloody well hope not,” she replied. “Because if I am, the afterlife looks as shitty as this one.”
Bong stood up and looked around his surroundings. He’d definitely heard the word death. It was then he noticed the sound of horses and turned to look northwards up the road. Frizel had come out of their home and joined him. There were two horses trotting down the road, but only one rider.
“Is that the young girl who had lunch with us?” asked Frizel.
“Yes, it is, my love,” he replied sadly, for he had just noticed a body hanging over the other horse.
“Oh no,” Frizel said.
Bong watched as the girl called Renee rode up to them. Her face was covered in tears.
“He just fell,” she said, trembling. “I couldn’t help him.” Then she started to cry again.
“I’m so sorry,” Frizel said as she watched the girl dismount and then gently held her in her arms. “I’m so sorry, my friend.”
Bong went to the other horse and lifted the body down. Locke’s hat fell to the ground.
A part of his mind wondered where Tom was, but he had to deal with what was in front of him right now. There was a hill nearby, he remembered, with a great view of the valley below. No man could ask for a better resting place. But why, he asked the Universe, why did people have to die so young?
The Universe did not reply.
The Tasmanian Midlands
Molly rode on one of these so-called horses and shifted about uncomfortably. How people rode on these things all day was beyond her; her bum was sore after only an hour’s ride.
“I’m so sorry about everything,” said Todd Abercrombie, who had decided to ride alongside of her with the Lieutenant Grumpy by the name of Doyle. He seemed like a nice man, Todd Abercrombie, even though he looked exactly like his uncle.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied.
“Nevertheless, I feel we have put you in an awkward position; the threats on the lives of your friends …”
Molly glanced at Todd. He seemed genuinely upset by what had happened over the last few days. But then again, he was the governor’s nephew so she decided to say nothing.
“I understand your hesitancy,” Todd continued, “and in some way of offering my apologies, I have arranged for your friends to be freed for the moment.”
Molly looked at Todd in shock.
“Edward wouldn’t allow it,” she replied, looking at the tall man who rode in front of them, leading this expedition.
“Ned doesn’t rule the east, his father does, and I managed to obtain one favour,” Todd replied.
Not waiting for her reply, Todd turned his head and nodded to Doyle, who then gave a shrill whistle, and before she knew it, three people on horses rode up and slowed down next to her.
“There you are,” Michelle said with a smile.
“I’m so sorry about everything,” Molly said as tears welled in her eyes. “I almost got you killed.”
Roland and Jeremy shared a confused look.
“What do you mean?” Roland, who had decided to cut his long black ponytail off, said.
“You saved our lives,” said Jeremy, who was still wearing his purple robe, or perhaps this was a different robe, as he had an unhealthy addiction to that colour.
“The suit and its power,” she replied.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jeremy said. “All these events are beyond our control.”
“Even those in charge,” Roland said with a pointed look at the governor’s nephew.
Todd looked back at Roland. “‘From blind obedience he must not swerve’,” he quoted.
“What is that from?” asked Jeremy. “It had the sound of a poem.”
“It is, actually,” replied Todd, “and was written by the Mayor of Hobart. A Lily Dayton.”
“Dayton,” Roland said, surprised. “Is that the person who was supposed to have defeated one hundred thousand zombies?”
“No, I believe it is his daughter,” replied Doyle confidently.
Everybody looked at the lieutenant with surprise. Not only had he spoken directly to them, but he didn’t seem to be gnashing his teeth.
“How do you know this?” asked Todd, who was just as surprised by his knowledge.
“I have been a soldier all my life, sir,” he replied, looking to the governor’s nephew. “When a story like that reaches my ears, I have to know whether it was true or not.”
“And so …?” Todd prompted.
“So I asked many of the travellers who came from the south whether they had heard of this story,” he said “All of them had. Every one of them talked about it as a fact. Some man had led all of the red zombies out of the capital and destroyed every last one of them, and Lily Dayton was, in fact, his daughter, who had removed all of the pale zombies years later.”
Everybody was looking at him in fascination now, especially Roland, who was hanging on his every word. Molly was listening intently as well, but it was just that she couldn’t believe he was being so civil. Michelle was glaring at him, though, which was reasonable, due to the fact that he had held a sword against her throat a few days earlier.
“Then, one day,” he continued, “I talked to a large group of travellers who rode through one of our eastern towns on a quest to see parts of our island home. I asked them the same question. Was the Dayton story true? Three of them, two brothers and a cousin, confirmed it was true, and they said that they were even part of the battle. They told me every part of the fight, right until the sad ending. The detail they provided was so thorough that I could not disbelieve their story.”
Eve
rybody looked at Doyle in silence as they took the story in. A small group of men and women had defeated a massive horde of the undead.
“How did he do it?” Roland asked.
“How is that possible?” exclaimed Jeremy.
“What sad ending?” Todd asked, but he was interrupted, as Edward had ridden back to join the party. His horse pranced as it ran, like its owner, Molly thought with a touch of anger.
“I see you have released the hostages, Cousin,” Edward said in his emotionless voice.
Molly had noticed that Doyle’s face had gone back to its usual scowl as soon as Edward joined them. A lifelong soldier, who was obviously very competent at his job, had a young man stationed above him purely because of his connection to the governor. That had to chafe a bit. Molly felt like she understood the lieutenant a little bit more now.
“Yes, Ned,” he replied. “I thought it was only fair that Molly’s worries be put to rest after the way we have treated them all.”
“Of course, of course,” Edward replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Molly,” he said as he turned to face her, “we will be camping tonight to rest before we engage the enemy tomorrow. I would be honoured if you would dine with me this evening.”
I would rather poke my eyes out with a burnt stick, she thought, but looking over at her friends, she knew she had to ensure their safety, and if that meant keeping this oddball as happy as possible, then so be it.
“I would be delighted,” she said with a forced smile.
The Westerner’s Camp
“So how come you’re not sick?” Hockey said in a wheezing voice as he lay on the ground in his tent. He had passed out soon after the sickness first came and only recently regained consciousness. For the first time that Carter could ever remember, his friend looked fragile and old. Carter wasn’t used to it, and didn’t like it one bit.
“Germs don’t like me,” replied Carter with a grin as he squatted beside him. “My body kills them, not the other way around.”
“And what’s with all the head coverings?” Hockey asked, then started to violently cough half of his lungs up.
Carter passed him a cup of water to drink when he stopped coughing and reached up and touched the scarf that covered his entire head and wrapped around his lower face.
“Orders of your son,” he replied, “and please don’t ask where I got it from.”
“And your fur jacket?”
“It’s hemp, actually.”
“The women always had more clothes than us,” Hockey replied with a smile he only shared with his friend. “And how is Buzz doing?” he continued.
“He’s separated most of the people into the healthy and the sick. But some people have decided to remain with the ill to look after them,” replied Carter.
“Just like you, ya dopey bugger,” replied Hockey.
“Someone had to look after you, didn’t they?” Carter said. “And your boy is too busy at the moment.”
“How many deaths have there been?” asked Hockey.
“The three thousand people we had after the Martins left has now been reduced to two thousand in the healthy camp,” Carter said with a grimace.
“Has he been challenged yet?” Hockey asked anxiously.
“No,” replied Carter, “but if he is to be challenged, then I will arrange for it tonight.”
“The Circle?” he asked with a big sigh.
“The Circle,” Carter replied with a sad look. “It has to be done.”
Hockey looked at his friend and gave a nod of permission.
“Do you think there will be any challengers?” Hockey asked.
“Your boy is well-respected,” Carter said as he looked at the ground. “He would be a good leader. But some people love the power of the suit and will challenge based on that love, not on what is best for our people.”
“Your son,” Hockey said quietly.
“Yes, I think so,” replied Carter, still looking at the ground. “I have heard no whispers of any other challengers, except for a young man called Wayne Jackman, but he went with Sam Follett in search of your eldest son.”
Hockey trusted Carter’s information. He was always good in finding out hidden rivals. “I’m starting to think those suits are not worth the trouble.”
“Agreed,” replied Carter, “but with two others out there, he has to keep one of them.”
“Maybe,” replied Hockey. “Or maybe not.”
Carter looked at his old friend. He had wondered whether the power the suit held outweighed the trouble it caused. He was still unsure, and so, it seemed, was Hockey. “I’m glad I’m not a leader,” he said.
“Perhaps we should vote for our leaders, like the old days.”
“We are too violent,” replied Carter. “Our culture is based on the strongest—”
“Not the smartest,” Hockey finished the sentence for him.
It was Hockey’s moment to look ashamed.
“My rule of our people was too long,” he said.
“Martin and his sons started the violence, not you, mate,” replied Carter.
“Yes, they did,” replied Hockey softly. “But after I deposed them, I should have led our people away from violence; instead, I continued his legacy.”
“You kept us together in dark times,” said Carter, as loyal as ever.
“Yes, I did,” replied Hockey as his eyes became heavy. “I kept us together, but I maintained the dark times until my wife and daughters eventually left me for that hippy village. Only Buzz remained with me.”
And Rod, but Carter kept those thoughts to himself.
“Maybe Buzz will lead us out of the darkness.”
“Maybe,” replied Hockey, “but first he … has to do something he doesn’t … really like to do.”
“Kill one of his own,” Carter said sadly, and most likely it would be one of Carter’s sons.
Carter looked over at his friend and saw that he had fallen asleep and was now muttering his wife’s name. She had hurt him badly, but Carter knew he still loved her deeply.
“Rest up, old mate,” he said. “I still think you may be needed just yet.”
Carter walked out of the tent to the squalor that was the diseased camp that had been set up to the east of the tower. What a nightmare, he thought as he saw dead bodies being piled up for burning. What a bloody nightmare. He was glad when he finally reached the edge of the camp. Looking for someone he knew in the healthy camp, he thought he saw Fergus sitting on the ground, looking in his direction. It was so hard to tell who was whom now with everyone wearing jackets and those bloody scarves.
“Dad,” Fergus called out as he stood up.
“Yeah, it’s me, boy,” he said and waved back. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of me, Carter suddenly realised, and felt a catch in his throat.
“Fergus, I want you to deliver a message to Buzz.”
“Sure, Dad, what is it?” Fergus replied.
“The Circle,” he said. “It’s time for the Circle tonight.”
“Are you sure the time is right with all the illness going around?” his son said.
“Yes, my boy,” Carter replied. “It has to be done, and the sooner it’s over, the better for all of us. Besides, you have no choice now anyway.”
“Why is that, Dad?” he replied.
“Because I just shouted it across the two camps, and everybody heard,” he said with a smile underneath his scarf.
“Oh, yeah.” Carter was sure Fergus was smiling back. “Might not be any need to pass the message now.” But he waved and went running towards where Buzz had his tent. No doubt it was close to the tower and that Mad Professor.
Carter walked back to the tent to look after Hockey with the heavy realisation that tomorrow, one of them would have one less son.
Frank Carter had just returned from hunting kangaroo, which were numerous in this part of the island, when he saw his closest brother, Fred, running towards him. At least he thought it was Fred; it
was so hard to tell with everybody’s bodies and head now covered. He had to admit, though, that he did like having warm clothes to wear. He suffered from an aching pain in his bones whenever the weather got too cold. The paint they wore did help, but nothing could beat a good fur jacket like the one he now wore.
“More meat,” Fred said.
Frank grunted; the camp seemed to have extra amounts of meat today, due to the skin being removed and made into clothing.
“Either this or the hemp clothing,” he replied with a shrug. “Now what has you running like our mother has just returned from the grave?”
“The Circle has been called for tonight,” Fred said and looked at his brother intensely.
Frank froze for a moment in shock, and he had to admit, at least to himself, a moment of fear.
“How do you know this?” he asked. “Has Buzz announced it?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” Fred replied. “Our father did.”
“What?” Frank was confused. “He’s still alive?”
“Yes, and he shouted the challenge across the two camps to Fergus. Everybody heard it.”
Frank thought about this for a moment. His father was not a fool. He would have not announced without Hockey’s approval, which meant the old leader was still alive, but barely.
“And what about Wayne Jackman?” Frank asked. That vicious young bastard was the only other person he knew who openly talked about wanting to become leader.
“He still hasn’t returned,” Fred replied. “So I think it will be only you who will challenge tonight, as Buzz is well liked. And if you have the suit, only Sam or Wayne will be able to stand against you.”
“Wayne!” Frank said in surprise. “You think he will try to steal Rodent’s suit from Sam?”
“I have no doubt he will,” replied Fred, “but Sam has his brother to watch his back.”
“Sam.” Frank cursed the name. “Yes, I would love the opportunity to kill that smug cunt.”
“But first things first,” said his brother.
“Yes,” Frank replied, looking at Fred. “I will be honest with you in saying that I cannot defeat Buzz with the sword alone.”