Apocalypse: Diary of a Survivor 4 (Apocalypse Survivors)

by Matt Pike

  That brings me to wood and fuel, both of which are in short supply around here. There’s no real plan that’s going to satisfy our needs that doesn’t involve heading east again. I’ve volunteered myself for a daily pilgrimage inland to stock up on wood. Pretty pleased to have a free roaming mission outside the main group, but perhaps even more pleased that the mission will lead me back to the city fringes again. I still feel a connection and calling there, which no amount of fricken’ frigates will ever satisfy, I don’t think.

  *

  After a feed, Asha, Nate and I went down to check out their boat. It was a little more humbly presented than it was talked about before they found out about the FF, but it’s still a very handy piece of kit. It could hold four people comfortably and completely opens up our world in terms of gathering food. It is a massive new asset at our disposal.

  After that we headed back to the nearest dune and began the task of removing the ash and sifting through the rubble. That was pretty much our afternoon. As we deconstructed the dune, we’d sort the rubble into categories. We were really only on the hunt for bricks or similar chunks of building material, galvanised iron and wood. Besides that, any random piece of potpourri that would be useful around camp was a secondary little easter egg hunt. And it was amazing what had survived alongside the heartier pieces of junk. There were kids’ toys, clothes, kitchen goods, electronics, picture frames - pretty much anything you could imagine. Most of it was utterly useless, but every now and then you’d find a sturdy, but battered, pot or pan or utensil you knew would make life a little easier at camp.

  Then there was the other category of discovery. We pulled three bodies from that first dune… and an arm. Well, bodies is probably not entirely reflecting the state of decay that had left them not far from skeletal structures. One of them was small, too, couldn’t have been more than 10 years old. That was hard to face. Seeing the death in just one small fraction of the western wastelands was a massive reminder of the level of complete destruction that had swept through here.

  It was also a reminder of what we were building our future on top of. This was going to be one of those things that no one was ever going to bring up in conversation, but you knew everyone was thinking it. Everywhere we went out here, everything we did, we would probably always be within a few metres of the corpse of a tsunami victim.

  Even though the tides - and our crew - were starting to bring a new paradise back to this place, paradise was being built on death. This thought hasn’t really left my head from that moment I had it until now, which means I can expect it to be a companion for a while. I’m doing my best to convince myself this is just another part of entropy.

  Anyway, once we’d picked through everything worth taking and sorted that into piles, we began the task of shifting it all back to base. Meanwhile, Steph and Mark saw to the bodies. They transferred them to where the removed ash had been piled up, then buried them in it. Once done, they constructed four crosses from found object junk we didn’t need and topped the pile with them.

  It was a good way to handle things, but I remember looking at that, then remembering all the dune digs ahead of us, and thinking what a haunted graveyard of a landscape we may soon have to live in.

  Once back, the bounty looked pretty good. There were enough bricks and rocks to make a meaningful start on the walls, plus a few sheets of corrugated iron that, when bent back into shape, would make a start on the roof when we were ready. We also had a couple of large pots that would help with cooking.

  Actually, first use of any pots will be as part of the desalination system Nate is developing. It’s one of the highest priorities right now. This is one area where things are pretty grim. We’re going to need a lot more pots - or a lot bigger ones - if we’re going to be able to produce the amount of water needed to keep all of us hydrated. Especially while we’re doing the hard yards pulling apart dunes. It’s not just the pots either; the wood we salvaged from all of this afternoon’s work won’t even come close to sustaining us. Ten times so when you consider the effort it took to obtain it. It’s not enough to see out a day of our needs, and it still has to be dried out to the point it can be burnt.

  All of which led to my mission tomorrow. I’m heading back cityside with a big shopping list. Fuel and wood top the list, but there are also a bunch of other things - from significant elements such as cement and large pots, to details such as cutlery and plates. Not really the type of things you bring with you when you’re bugging-out at a moment’s notice, but, you know, kind of important to making our new world as normal as possible.

  There’s no way I’m going to be able to do that all tomorrow, or the day after, or any time soon really. It’s going to be a case of constantly heading back to top up on the essentials, while filling out the wishlist a bit at a time.

  It just means my tasks back in the city are ongoing. It wasn’t even a conversation I had to steer in the direction, it’s just the logical solution if we’re going to survive this set-up period. Just works out well for me as the city calling is strong.

  I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  *

  March 3, 2015

  I would have loved to take two people with me today, but we’re so tight on numbers and there is so much physical work that needs doing, it was only practical to take one.

  Given we had to spread out our strength and experience, it made sense for me to ask Jessie. I feel he’s definitely drawn to me around camp a little too, so I don’t want him to feel abandoned or alone. Anyway, I like his company; he’s a smart kid with plenty to offer.

  He’s also taken to this whole survival thing. Since back when we were searching for our MIA, something’s switched in him. I can see him starting to watch and learn from other people. He certainly asks me plenty of questions about everything I do and why. I don’t mind it, it’s good to see.

  Anyway, the prime goals were fuel and wood. I knew the most abundant supply of wood was in the parklands, with the spot near the waystation having plenty of dead trees to choose from. It would also give us a chance to make sure the third hovercraft was still there and untampered with.

  We ate breakfast as we followed the river and hit the waystation not long after the sun had lifted above the horizon.

  It was eerie as we approached. I mean, the chances were extremely low the Norwood crew had traced the bodies of their fallen back to the jail, and further traced our escape route to the waystation, but it was a chance. And with even just a day in our new home, returning back to this turf felt strangely foreign already. We didn’t have a footprint in the city anymore and it seemed losing that had taken away a sense of belonging there at all.

  I didn’t like that feeling.

  It became pretty clear as we neared that we had made a clean getaway. The broken hovercraft was still nestling in its hidey hole underneath the bridge - still covered.

  We parked and gave it a closer inspection, but it was a relief to know our entire escape route and plan had gone unnoticed.

  From a purely packing point of view, it would have made more sense to grab the wood last, but in a world where the enemy are always a factor, we needed to do the risky business first. So, that was the next 90min or so. We walked under the bridge, loaded up with handfuls of fallen tree parts, then loaded them up on Phoenix. We left enough space to ensure easy access to the jerrycans but, that aside, we filled up.

  We weren’t going to run out of supply anytime soon if our first harvest was anything to go by. There was plenty either sticking out of the ash, or fallen on top of it, as the trees that survived the tsunami gave up on life without sun in its wake. Better still, the wood was dry and ready to burn.

  The next step was fuel. I wanted to swing out and around the city to the south. The first target was King William Rd, through Unley Park. My guess was it was under the tsunami line, but close enough to the end that everything there would still be in reasonable enough shape to find a car or two to syphon petrol from. There was also a little side missio
n to try to find some larger cooking pots. While one would definitely help with the actual cooking, we would need as many others as we could get for the desalination experiment Nate was working on. Anyway, I knew there were a bunch of restaurants out that way and it was all well out of earshot of the city, so seemed the perfect place to start.

  Funny thing is, that’s not what we did next. Once we had all the wood loaded and the logical move was to go, I couldn’t. I can’t quite explain what came over me in that moment. Maybe it was a home-calling of sorts, maybe it was some crazy ESP thing or something, whatever it was, it was telling me to head back to the jail.

  As I write this now I realise it was potentially stupidly risky, or just plain stupid. But I had to go. Anyway, I told Jessie that was what I was going to do and gave him the choice to come or stay. He wanted to come. I don’t think it was just to stick together through fear, either. Maybe he had the same home-calling as me, or just a sense of adventure. Not sure, but I liked it, whatever it was.

  So, off we headed. A path we were very familiar with from recent days. This time, though, it was so much different. I know I mentioned it just now, but I feel I have to emphasise it here - everything was different. Just a blink ago, this was our land. Now, it was enemy territory. I’m not sure I can put that sensation into words. I mean, how can you? Home is no longer home. Home is somebody else’s home and you’re a trespasser. It wasn’t even the second part of that which freaked me out the most. Home is no longer home - that was some weird shit to digest. It left me feeling a little sick. Mostly at myself and the circumstances and decisions that let all this get away. Maybe it was the betrayal of others, or others again who just stole what was ours. Hell, I don’t know. Somewhere in all that lurked this feeling that had been with me since we left for the beach and that I knew would be my passenger for a long, long time.

  When I was walking that path back to the jail, well, it was tenfold. We were cautious in every move we made. Beyond everything I, and probably Jessie, was feeling, the danger could’ve been around any corner. Funny that all my thoughts beyond that were around belonging and home.

  Soon enough, we caught our first sight of the jail. We gave each other a silent hi-5. That feeling went to new heights in that moment. It was crazy. And all this over the jail! The jail - that was our halfway house for a few days. I shuddered to think what I’d be like if I even got to within touching distance of the oval again.

  Anyway, the coast looked pretty clear as we neared the walls. It was still tense, though. Extremely. As we reached the point where we were going to climb the wall, we saw a set of tracks. It was really hard to age them, or know conclusively if they were the enemy’s or ours. Either way, heart rates were up in an instant. Our approach had been as stealthy as we could manage - and that was pretty damn stealthy. Anyway, we decided to back up against the wall, stay put and listen. After not hearing a sound for a whole lot of minutes, we decided we could proceed.

  At that point, we just wanted to get in, have our little touch of nostalgia and GTFO. Things looked almost unchanged - just how we left them. That alone made the trip worth it and was a huge relief. But there were footprints. One set. They had entered the same way that we had, which was weird in itself as that was very much the back way to get into the compound. It definitely had Jessie and I exchanging glances.

  There was only one thing to do and that was to follow. The trail led from the courtyard to the main facility entrance. Once inside, it stopped, or had been covered up or something. Or perhaps the person just turned around and left. But, by this point, I was super curious as to who the hell this might have been and why they had come here. I couldn’t help but think it was all too familiar. Like, one-of-ours kind of familiar. But that in itself didn’t make sense, because if someone else from our crew had survived and made it as far as the jail, surely they would’ve headed beachside. So, how the hell have they not made it yet, or how did we not see them on our way?

  We checked each room in the main part of the building in turn. On the top level, where the roof had been ripped away, we hit paydirt. On the western-most room, in a gap between the top of the broken wall and the open air where the roof once was, stood a box. There was never a box there.

  Even from our angle we could see some green sticking out of the top. We raced over and carefully lowered it down.

  It was full of seedlings in little pots.

  There was a note written on a folded-up piece of A4 paper, wedged in between two rows of pots. It read: These will thrive in your environment. Stay strong. Things won't be like this forever. K, S & T.

  Tears rolled as I read it. Both for me and Jessie. We hugged with excitement. I just came back to this place on a curious whim and now we had received the most amazing piece of information.

  K, well, that just had to be Kent. There weren't any other Ks, and he was the botanist anyway. S - Shane, surely. Asha was the only one to return when those two, Trent and Trav went in to save Lana. Which leaves the T - either Trent or Trav, obviously. But, how are they alive? I mean, Kent just went AWOL mid battle without a trace. I'm now almost willing to bet he left to be with his plants. Our war didn't matter as much as his plants. Nothing did for Kent.

  As for the others, no idea. Are they part of the Norwood crew now? Injured? Prisoners? There's really not much to go by, other than they are alive. But alive is a very, very good start.

  I wanted to get back and tell everybody, but we still had some other details to take care of. Firstly, we couldn't leave without responding. First step was to trawl the abandoned office space downstairs to find a pen and some paper. Sure, it's a pretty basic communication tool, but not really anything you think to keep on you in the apocalypse.

  I had to make my response brief and cryptic, in case someone else found it, despite the fact the message had been planted in the most inert and obscure corner of the jail. But, we did find it, so someone else might. Anyway, careful words were required.

  Move in progress. Successful so far. Finding our way. Your gift/news will warm hearts. Will stay in touch.

  It was a little difficult to know what else to write without giving away our numbers, location or, well, anything else. I figured if they were anything like me, just the knowledge that there is life on the other side will bring happiness.

  Once the note was placed where our gift had been, we made our exit. Part of me had gone back to the jail with an eye to get up to the hospital and look over the oval for a while, just to see what I could see. But the message made it all redundant.

  We had news of three more survivors - more than a week of spying from that distance would've ever told me.

  There was so much to download from that message as we headed back. Unless this was the first step in some long-winded plot to bait us into coming back, one of our crew managed to get to the jail in secret. So, not prisoner? Was it Kent? It seems the most likely. Does that mean the others are in the same position as him? And what does “things won't be like this forever” mean? I mean, that's not a random throwaway line, that comes with meaning. Something must be happening oval-side to compel him to write that, but what?

  We gave ourselves more questions than answers. One thing's for sure though, those 14 words are beautiful, mysterious and full of hope for the future.

  As much as I wanted to head straight back to the coast, we needed petrol, and stat. Not that the stocks are fumes thin, but it's not a comfortable feeling being down to your last jerrycan of juice. I mean, you never know what's around the corner. So, loading up while we were here was the only way to go.

  We started out towards the beach, then hooked south after a couple of minutes, and kept on that course until we were pretty sure we'd passed far enough that we were further south than the southern end of the parklands, then headed east. Basically, it was a massive detour to avoid getting heard in the city.

  With each block we travelled east and uphill, the landscape seemed to change. The scale of damage noticeably less each minute.

&nb
sp; By the time we were level with what we thought was in line with the western edge of the parklands again, whole buildings had survived. Soon after, we crossed over the remains of a grandstand. That was our first solid marker - we knew we were riding over the showgrounds. It was also pretty close to where we'd thought we'd be, which was a win.

  Soon after we were at Goodwood Rd. It was still recognisable. Maybe that was because of the showgrounds perspective, but you could see the space for the road and there were still buildings on its sides.

  By the time we'd reached King William Rd, things were starting to reach a level of normal. It was more common for a property to be mostly intact than not, which meant there was good definition in the streets and roads. We turned south again.

  It wasn't too far until we reached our target location. A strip of shops, restaurants and cafes. I remember Sunday morning brunches there with the family when I was younger. Anyway, not only was it probably the closest most likely spot to find a car to syphon, those restaurants also gave me a chance to find some gear for the desal kit.

  There was no shortage of potential car finds pressed up against buildings or whatever random spot the tsunami waters took them to. This area looked pretty much untouched since rock night, so conditions were more like what I was used to in the beginning. It was back to lumps and moguls in the ash to guide us. I felt like such an apocalypse pro cruising up King William Rd. I could tell which ash mounds were hiding cars and which were just wind-shaped bumps in the ash. As we went, I was giving Jessie all the signs to look for. That felt good, not only passing on the knowledge to someone who was keen to learn, but also knowing it was helping him in other ways. Something new to sink his time into was just what he needed to start rebuilding who he was.

  Anyway, I figured the fuel would be an easy enough get, so I wanted to make the first stop the restaurant strip. If we could score some big pots on this trip, that’d be a massive bonus.

  We hit the first part of the stretch of restaurants. An Italian place beckoned - Parisi’s. All the windows were smashed and the ash had flowed in and over everything. After pulling up near the verandah out front, we climbed carefully through the broken glass and down the ramp of ash on the other side.