Apocalypse [Book 3]

by Matt J. Pike

  So much to take in. Mr Jameson is dead, for a start. What happened? Steve’s passing. The words sound as if there was a naturalness to it. Or maybe I’m reading too much into things. On the massive positive side the others are alive! Three people I know are still alive, well at least they were at some point well after rock night. As for Tea Tree Plaza, I’m not sure if that’s good news. Assuming they got there, I wonder if they’re actually on the inside. What if they’re stuck on the far side of the wall I saw? What if they were among the people I passed on my way to the hills a few weeks back, risking their lives to get on the inside?

  I have a feeling this is not good news. It certainly isn’t for me, as now I know I have to return to TTP. I have to know, this is my mission. Before leaving the house I searched around until I found their photo albums, then souvenired the best picture of the Jamesons I could find. Could come in handy.

  There was one more memory from rock night I was drawn to relive before I left for the Firle Hub. So I headed down to the back of the garden by the rear shed. I was looking for the outside garden bench under the grapevines – now just shrivelled clumps of sickly, dusty brown. I positioned myself to best guess where the bench would be and dug into the ash. After fishing around for a minute or two, I hit pay dirt. It was the top of the back rest, sitting only a few centimetres under the surface.

  I lowered myself to sitting on the ash and reached down so my hand was in contact with the wood. Just as looking out over the balcony channelled memories of the rock, sitting there, touching the bench, mainlined memories, my encounter with Alyce.

  What happened on this bench all those months ago, well, it was a significant moment – a connection between two people who didn’t know how many more moments would be left. It was intimate yet distant, passionate but calculated, fulfilment and loss all wrapped into a singular experience. One that I’ll never forget. And sitting on that spot again, I relived it, not as an act of desire but as a connection between people.

  It was the bond that stood out to me. It triggered my thoughts for Fi again and my loneliness in the fog that is this world. It spoke to me, that bench, told me I could cope with anything this evil world could throw my way if I had that bond. Yes, I have it from Fi, I will always have that. I’ll carry those memories like a torch to keep me warm. But the thought that somewhere out there is a person, a possibility, maybe that’s the other torch I need.

  Living to protect the past is one thing, living to find the future is something else – they are both powerful drivers, but only one offers hope. That’s a rare commodity this (probably) September.

  I started to feel that sense of purpose taking shape more and more. I think I nearly smiled, because coming back here, despite not seeing anyone, was probably the best thing I’ve done since I returned from the hills. Reconnecting with the moment, feeling the loss or normal, discovering others survived, aligning where I’d come from and where I could possibly go – synapses were firing in my brain that hadn’t for the longest time. Maybe the fog was starting to lift.

  I did a flyby of the Firle Hub on the way back home. I didn’t have to get too close to realise it was no longer operational. Most of the shopfront windows were broken and a body even lay slumped through one, the legs flopped down into the ash. So obvious was the lack of recent activity, that I took Phoenix into the car park to get a closer look.

  I couldn’t see too far into the supermarket, but what I could see was nothing but broken and empty shelves, with a couple more bodies lying down for good measure. The whole situation just had the smell of the Norwood hubbers about it. It seems they were expanding their reach in search of the supplies they needed to sustain themselves.

  The thought of the Norwood crew being involved was enough to get me paranoid. After one lap up and down the main strip I bailed out and headed home.

  *

  September 24, 2014

  So many things going through my mind at the moment, both good and bad. The world’s constantly changing and I feel, like always, my best chance of survival is to monitor everything that’s happening so I can plan the best route forward.

  For me, the big pieces of the puzzle are the major hubs. Places like Norwood and TTP have the assets. Judging by what I’ve seen at Norwood, Trinity Gardens, Firle and TTP – the big are protecting what’s their’s… and attacking weaker ones to strengthen their position. I could possibly add the Burnside and Mitcham shopping centres to that list, but I haven’t been that far south to confirm, nor am I planning to. All the other major shopping centres would have long been swept away by the tsunami.

  So we’re left with a few significant, resource rich (but deteriorating) major centres with decent populations, a decimation of smaller centres and then the rest – the loners, and possibly the survivalists.

  No one’s really in a great position, whatever the circumstances, apart from the safety-in-numbers factor for the hubs.

  While things have brightened up somewhat since the darkest days post-rock, it’s still cold and dark. And the lack of meaningful sunlight doesn’t just affect mood and viewing distances. Most of the evergreen trees are dead and I haven’t seen too much leaf regrowth on the deciduous trees. This is a real worry because if they don’t get some life by summer how can they survive another winter? And if we lose the trees, what on earth can we use as a food source?

  Maybe the hubbers are all in the wrong spot. They’re in the concrete jungle shopping centres. Sure, they’re barricaded in protecting what they have… but when that runs out what do they do?

  Long term there’s got to be some farm land or something to regenerate to keep us going. Who knows where that is either, judging by what I saw east of the hills – wasteland.

  But I wonder who’s even thinking long term at these larger places. Mouths to feed on a daily basis would put some pressure on each and every day. What happens when they’ve raided everywhere there is to raid then run out of their own stock? What else is there to eat… apart from each other? I just wrote that off-hand, but now that I think about it, it’s really a possibility – a scary one at that.

  Ewww! That’s wrong.

  But, having seen the Norwood people at their worst, I wouldn’t put it past them. Except they wouldn’t kill their own, would they? Not if there was a steady stream of loners wandering about. Man, I’m going to stop thinking about this for now. It’s all guesswork and it doesn’t end in a good places. Besides, it’s making me think of Scott, Alyce and Jodie heading to TTP.

  Change subjects...

  No, that’s not working. I’m starting to obsess. I think I need to head up to TTP again to see what going on out there – to see what’s happened to the Jamesons. The problem is I don’t know the area that well. I’ll need to take Phoenix to get there, but I can’t get too close to people with my prime asset. I’ll have to hide it somewhere far enough away not to be detected and completely out of the eyes of anyone. Research required.

  Meanwhile, I need to start thinking about my own food supplies. Things will be getting tight before I know it. I think I might head back to the city in the next few days to see if I can’t regain access to the food stocks we discovered at Adelaide Central Plaza… or find some other supply.

  While all that’s going on, I need to start thinking ahead about what the world will look like this summer, next winter and beyond. I need to find the strategy, the plan, the game-changer to set me up beyond the day-to-day.

  So yeah, a fair bit happening.

  *

  September 25, 2014

  I’ve decided tomorrow’s the day to head to Tea Tree Plaza again. I’ve spent the morning trying to plan my approach and how to best keep Phoenix out of sight. I’ve been studying the maps I printed out pre-rock, searching for an obvious in point – the area least likely to have people about when I get there. Nothing’s really standing out, but I think the best approach seems to be on the far side of the Hope Valley Reservoir. It’s a mix of residential streets and linear parkways, all within half a kilo
metre of the Plaza.

  I would definitely want to avoid getting too close to the reservoir, or some of the more industrial areas, but I’m hoping to sling off the main road and into long forgotten suburbia, spot a house with no signs of life around it and easy access to the backyard. Then I just need to zoom in, kill the engines, cover Phoenix in a tarp, jump a few fences to lose the trail of breadcrumbs, then it should be smooth sailing. Any signs of life, any sign of trouble and I’ll move a few blocks away and start the process again.

  I’m confident I can pull it off… but nervous. Everything’s going to be unfamiliar and I’ll be on foreign territory. But if I’m disciplined to wait for the right conditions (enough breeze to kick up some ash and cover my tracks) and stay out of trouble, well, it should be fine.

  I have to tell myself that because there’s so much unknown about this whole trip and if I can’t even convince myself that I can park Phoenix in a safe place, then what hope do I have for the rest?

  As for the rest, well, I’m going to have to tread carefully at the very least. I’ll make sure I’m at least a few streets back from the shopping centre when I park. I still don’t know what I’ll do when I see someone. Do I call out? Do I say high? In the end, I’m there to find out information so making contact is pretty much the point of it all. But the person has to give off the right vibe.

  As for weapons, I’m not sure how to arm myself. I feel safest with the crossbow, but there’s no hiding that thing, and once people see it, the dynamics will change. I could take the gun; it’s easier to conceal, which is a benefit, but I have no ammo at all. So it’ll be there for bluff purposes only. Am I crazy enough to pull that off? Maybe.

  Actually, I am, I definitely am. I’ve just got to remember, when I go out there, I’m not me. I’m playing a character, a role – I’m a loner, a survivor, I’m armed, I’m on a mission and I’m not to be messed with. I’m a shadowy face under a hood. I’m the guy you’ll choose to say as little to as possible. You’ll just answer my questions so I can be on my way. And that’s just the way I like it.

  *

  I’ve been thinking of Fi all afternoon. I mean, I always do, she’s always there. But it’s really strong today, right to the core stuff. I think it’s being triggered by what I’m doing tomorrow. I’m heading to track down people I know, but it’s Alyce, I know it. The fact that she and I shared a physical connection, and the feeling that I would want or need that again, well, it’s bringing some pretty raw emotions to the surface again.

  I’ve been staring at a photo – a selfie Fi and I took just for laughs one afternoon. I printed it out on photostock and framed it. God I love that photo. There’s something about the look in her eye – it sparkles – shining in the way that can only happen when you don’t have a care in the world. And her smile – broad and genuine. She’s stunning. Absolutely stunning. Our heads are leaning together and I’m grinning like an idiot. I’m the cat that got the cream. Because of her.

  I laughed for bit, then I cried for a lot.

  Stupid nostalgia. I used to think it was just a word – something you’d say when you saw an old picture or movie – anything black and white or analogue really. Now though, I get it. I understand what the word really means. Nostalgia isn’t the sepia photo or the 4x3 black and white TV rerun… it’s not even the photo of Fi.

  It’s the emotion it brings up every time you look at it. It’s what it reminds you of. It’s what you miss – what you used to touch and smell and breath. It’s what you took for granted. Most of all, it’s the knowledge that there’s no more. It’s something you love, transforming from liveable experience to museum piece, roped off by time and slowly collecting dust as the neurons in your brain desperately try to fire in the right combination to remember everything – every little detail, like you’re experiencing again. But you know you never will.

  The bittersweet knowledge that you had happiness but that was only a moment in time. And now that moment is gone.

  Stupid nostalgia.

  *

  That’s me done for the day. I’m exhausted from thinking and need sleep. I’m going to head off pretty early in the morning, if the wind is right. It’ll be easier to hide Phoenix with less people up and about. I was thinking about doing a little house-to-house raiding if I don’t have any luck with the Jamesons but I’ve decided against it. I’ll save that for the upcoming city trip.

  *

  September 26, 2014

  No-go today, I’m afraid. The conditions are just way too still. It’s really annoying because I was pumped for it.

  So I’ve just been thinking and planning again. I’ve decided to take the gun with me as well as a knife. I’m going to leave the crossbow at home though. I figure it’s just too obvious… too threatening. It’s a risk, but hell, everything’s a risk.

  *

  September 27, 2014

  Well, that was definitely an interesting expedition.

  The morning weather was perfect – reasonable visibility and enough breeze around to quickly settle tracks. It was game day.

  I headed up Glynburn Rd to Lower North East Rd. Once I was close to the reservoir I pulled Phoenix through the side streets and parks until I reached Grand Junction Rd. I found a quiet street in behind the aged-care place that looked dead (no offence to the former residents). I ran Phoenix for a lap until I found a house that looked ideal. To be fair, there were a few that would’ve done the trick, but the place I selected was a big winner. There were no signs of life anywhere along the street. The house had broken windows and a carport down the side, but I could see far enough around that I’d get access to the backyard. The fences were high too, which made me feel safer about leaving Phoenix alone.

  Along the fence a bunch of dead trees provided the perfect spot to conceal her. I eased into them and killed the engines. It’s amazing how dead quiet things get after that – hovercraft aren’t the quietest mode of transport, well, mine, at least. I tied the tarp up to a couple of trees then angled it out and over her, grabbed some of the looser ash and covered as much of the tarp as I could. I mean it still looked like a tarp, but you couldn’t make out Phoenix underneath and the whole thing seemed like it’d been there for a while.

  After collecting my things, I moved along the tree line to the back fence and jumped over. I remember turning back to study the scene I’d just left. Phoenix was hidden, there were no obvious footprints and even Phoenix’s marks in the ash were minimal and soon to be covered completely. I donned my ash boots and left, confident the yard appeared so unremarkable Phoenix would be there when I returned.

  I stayed close to the fence line as I made my way out of the other property and onto the street beyond. The next challenge was to work out where to start walking on the road. It’s a little thing – a details things – but I knew wherever I made my first obvious footprint would be the spot that anyone could trace me back to. I definitely wanted the location to be as far away from my trail as possible.

  Lucky for me the property I was leaving had a nice high fence at the front. I was able to climb up and walk from one side to the other. The place next door had a hedge sitting over the ash line. I walked along the top as best I could; with each step I was sinking down to the ash level, but I was also hiding my movements. About halfway along the hedge a gumtree was growing between the footpath and the roadside. I was able to reach up to one of the thicker branches and climb on. From there I worked my way to the trunk then lowered to the ground.

  That’s when I started walking on open ash for the first time, making an obvious path that, if anyone followed would lead to a tree, then nothing. Sure, I might have been thinking about everything a little too much, but the risks of losing Phoenix were catastrophic, I couldn’t take any chances.

  I think the journey to Tea Tree Plaza was about 500-600 metres. I didn’t see too many signs of activity until I crossed the O-Bahn bus line – about half way. At that point the number and depth of the tracks in the ash had built up, including a main tren
ch that took me directly to the shopping centre. It was clearly a reasonably well-travelled area still. I decided to take off the ash boots and use the trench – when in Rome.

  Before I knew it, the path had taken me past the Modbury Hospital and the ash walls of the TTP fortress appeared. It was pretty quiet. As I neared I saw a couple of people standing guard on top of the wall, silhouetted in the morning haze. One of them had a rifle, the other a bow and arrow. In front of them, outside the compound, there were a few – maybe a dozen – people milling around.

  It was pretty tense but at the same time I didn’t feel like things were totally on edge. The group being watched weren’t even really paying attention to those guarding them. No, the entire scene was more strange than scary. It was enough to encourage me to get closer at least. I was still cautious though.

  I was within 50 or so metres of the group when they noticed me. They just looked up, one person at first, then all. But nobody went for weapons, they didn’t really change behaviour in any way, they just watched. I was definitely feeling uneasy but not threatened… at least not directly.

  The guard on the wall raised his gun at me. I instinctively stopped and put my hands above my head in submission. My heart was racing and I realised cool personas are more easily imagined than maintained. I stood frozen to the spot, but trying as hard as I could to appear nonchalant about it. After a couple of seconds he took his sights off me. I waited a few seconds more to collect myself, before nodding at him and continuing forward.

  I got to within about 10 metres of the watched folk and about 20 of the wall and stopped again. There were a lot of sets of eyes on me and all my planned bravery was teetering on the edge. I swallowed back my nerves and approached the closest of the watched.

  It was just so insane. So many thoughts flashing through my mind, not the least of which was why had I put myself into a situation I had so little control over? What if that guy had just pulled the trigger? I’m the loner out here. I’m the one without support, I’m the one with everything to lose.