by M C Rooney
Maurice thought for a moment on this and could see the truth of it. Plus, the people who were hiding the truth just may as well promote the crazier end of the theorists to muddy up the waters further.
“Was this argument about the moon landing?” asked McKay.
“Yes,” Maurice replied.
“Ha, most conspiracy theorists think that it was a hoax,” replied McKay, “and you actually defend it.”
“It shits me that mankind’s greatest achievement is treated with such contempt,” Maurice replied.
“Agreed,” McKay said, “and they completely miss the point.”
“What point is that?” asked Maurice.
“The question is not ‘did we get there?’, the question is why we never went back.”
“What do you mean?”
McKay sighed. “It doesn’t really matter anymore, but the secret of the moon lies in two areas.”
“What are those?” asked Maurice.
“The first area applies to all conspiracies. In fact, I think it applies to all things in life.”
“And what is that?”
“Always trust the person who is retired,” said McKay.
“I don’t understand.”
“A person who is retired isn’t after your money,” replied McKay, “and they don’t have to play by the book to further their career.”
Maurice still looked a bit confused.
“Basically, they don’t give fat rat’s clacker what people think, and that often leads to the truth.”
Maurice nodded his head. “And the second?”
“The second is to get a telescope powerful enough with computer enhancements to see the real colours of the moon.”
“The moon has colours?” asked Maurice.
“Yes, beautiful colours,” replied McKay. “NASA and the Chinese always provide the public with black-and-white photos and overexpose the crap out of it.”
“Why?”
McKay sighed again. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“That’s the second time you have said that,” replied Maurice. “What is the problem?”
The clown mask that was McKay was silent for a moment then said very quietly, “Tomorrow is a big day.”
“What do you mean?” asked Maurice. His unknown Internet friend sounded a little scary even without looking at that creepy clown mask.
“If trouble happens in your town tomorrow, Maurice,” McKay said, “the brain, kill the brain.”
“What?” Maurice asked in total confusion.
“I can’t talk about it anymore.” McKay said sadly. “Goodbye, my friend, and good luck.” Then the connection was ended.
“The brain,” Maurice repeated quietly. “What did he mean by that?”
Maurice was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice Veronica’s face on his screen. She had automatic access.
“Hello, Earth to Maurice,” she said, waving at him, “this is Veronica, from the planet Neptune.”
Maurice gave a start when he saw her face. Her brown hair, blue eyes, and the kindest smile he had ever seen.
“I’m sorry, Vonnie,” he mumbled. “Just had a strange call, that’s all.”
“Not those bullies again,” she said, as her face crinkled into a cute frown.
“No, just my Internet friend said something odd,” he replied with a smile. Her concern for him always warmed his heart. He just wished he wasn’t so fat and ugly, perhaps then she would consider being his girlfriend.
“About the comets?” she said.
“What comets?” he replied.
“You really spend too much time on the Net,” she said with a laugh.
Maurice was about to say something along the lines of ‘why are you on the Internet then’ when John Carter’s face showed up on the screen. He had automatic access as well.
“Bloody hell, guys, do you see those things?”
“He hasn’t seen them,” replied Veronica.
“What, you’re kidding, right?” John asked.
Maurice opened his mouth to protest when his father knocked on the door and entered the room. Richard Roberts looked at his son as he stood there, holding his daughter’s hand. Hannah was rugged up in her warm camping clothes and looked very excited to be going on an adventure. His father then looked at the computer screen with John’s and Veronica’s faces on it.
“Now, tonight’s lesson shall be a history lesson from the ancient past,” he said with a smile. “We are all going to turn off our computers and meet up with each other outside in the real world. You do realise we all live within a few blocks of each other?” he finished with a laugh.
And soon, all of his friends, including Cheng, and his family, excluding his mother, were gathered in the nearby park and watched as the yellow comets streamed across the sky. Maurice held his little sister in his arms and looked in wonder up into the night. He thought it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.
Tasmanian Midlands
The Tower gave a shudder as a lightning bolt struck its highest peak. McNamara would have to climb up there tomorrow and fix something, as the Tower moved a bit too freely for his liking.
“It’s happening,” he said quietly as he looked into the sky.
“Yes, the time has come,” McLaren replied, laughing. “Soon someone will die, and then it will all begin.”
His laughter bugged McNamara; a lot of people around the world were going to die tomorrow, and McLaren found it funny.
“You do realise that when we die the same thing will happen?”
McNamara would do the stabbing of the eye after McLaren died. He would also stab Molly. Stabbing her would break his heart.
“Yes, I know,” McLaren shot back. “Just be thankful that you are alive now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing,” McLaren replied. He would have been the one tasked with killing McNamara if McCredie had given the order. The poison he needed was sitting under his bedside table.
“Just be glad we live in an isolated area; we should survive the year,” McLaren continued, “but Hobart town will be bedlam tomorrow.”
“Yes, I know,” McNamara said sadly.
Launceston would also be bedlam tomorrow, McLaren thought with a smile. He hoped his son Sev was safe and secure by now. He was a very competent soldier, but sometimes his nerves could get him into a lot of trouble. He knew he should have put Erikson in charge, but he had to show some confidence in his son. After all, once McLaren ruled Tasmania, Sev would be his heir.
And the following day was bedlam. In fact, it was much more than that; it was the bloodiest day in all of mankind’s recorded history. Knowing this took McNamara to the edge of insanity, and he lost all memory of the past and became known simply as the Professor. He was part of the destruction of the world, and it almost broke him. Little did he know that at the end of his life, he would become the architect of the rebirth of this land.
West Coast, Tasmania – Six Years Later
The huge man, who had just been hunting for miles for the day’s food, stopped on the small hill that overlooked his old hometown. He was wearing his usual baggy trousers, which had survived the last six years, but went shirtless for hunting, as it felt strangely right for him to do so.
“Where is she?” he murmured to himself as he scanned the town. He could see the bodies lying on the street outside the school, so small in shape because most of them were children.
A heart attack, he remembered in anguish for the thousandth time. The principal had a heart attack at the school and died. But he didn’t just die, he rose back to his feet and started attacking people who were helping him, and those people who were bitten had then attacked the schoolchildren. And what did brave Maurice do? He grabbed Veronica and headed straight out of the classroom with John and Craig. The thought of his little sister never crossed his mind until he had Veronica safe. “You fucking left her, you useless piece of shit,” he said as tears fell from his eyes. He was so asham
ed of himself. Six years had not changed that feeling one bit.
By the time he remembered his sister, it was too late to go back in the school, as the police, emergency services, and the children’s parents were all crammed in there, looking for their kids. Oh, and they found the kids all right, and they were bitten in turn. His own father had done what Maurice should have done and went in looking for Hannah. He never came out. All of the towns finest were infected within fifteen minutes, and this was a tragedy from which they had never recovered.
And what did I contribute to the plague? he thought with a loud sob. Oh, yes, he was the one who told the surviving authorities that the only way of stopping them was to blow their brains out. So for the next half an hour most of the adults who were infected were shot in the head by the surviving policemen until their bullets ran out and they were overrun themselves and joined the horde of the dead.
They didn’t kill the children, though, Maurice remembered in sadness and pain; nobody could kill the children. So we all fled. We all left the town on foot and never came back. Some managed to drive out with their cars, running a few people over on their way, who were in turn eaten by the following dead. The speed of which the plague spread overwhelmed everybody, and they just ran for their lives with just the clothes on their back.
But as soon as they thought they were safe, some of the dead ran after them as well—literally ran—so they were then involved in a retreating pitched battle, with their dead former friends, using branches as clubs or any sort of sharp object that could be found and used to smash their heads in. Anyone bitten, though, would soon join the enemy and start fighting against them as well. This battle went on for about an hour, until finally, those following them were all killed. In the end, Veronica had to half carry him out as he was getting very close to having the heart attack Doctor Baker had warned him about. Doctor Baker himself was, of course, one of the first people to be eaten alive by the dead.
People stayed together as they fled inland. He saw his mother ahead of him, being dragged along by her boyfriend, Barry, and he called out to her, wanting to tell her about Hannah, but she ignored him and kept walking. Maurice was too fat to keep up with her anyway, and besides, Veronica, Craig, and John were the only ones he really cared about, he thought, lying to himself. Maurice was so relieved when he saw that the Cheng kids had made it out. His best friend, John, who had disappeared in the confusion, had made it out safely as well, and he was so happy to see him that he almost cried, even though he was, unfortunately, dragging his girlfriend, Freda, along with him. When the danger had finally passed, a lot of people, including the ones who were meant to be in charge, kept walking inland in the hope of finding some sort of rescue. They never returned.
So a population of eight hundred was reduced to less than two hundred in under an hour. They were leaderless and homeless, until luckily, somebody remembered a retreat that was hidden in the nearby mountains.
In the coming months, though, somebody did step up to lead what was left of the community, and as is the case in most world-changing events, it was the thugs who rose to the top. And who were the biggest thugs of the survivors? His beloved Uncle Ken, his sons, Warren and Scott Martin, and five of the biggest bogans in the community, that’s who. They had beaten up anybody who had shown any dissent, some had even disappeared suspiciously, and for the last six years, nobody had been able to do anything about it. He hated the Martins almost as much as he hated himself.
“I knew you would be here,” a voice said behind him.
“Just paying for my sins,” he replied calmly. He knew that voice so well. “I’m standing upwind this time.”
A couple of times, some of the dead children from below had caught his scent and started looking for him before he had a chance to disappear.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Veronica replied. “God only knows why that happened. If you hadn’t told the police about how to stop them, we would all be dead by now.”
I only knew because McKay told me, he wanted to say. Somehow, that man had known what was going to happen. That’s why he had always tried to sell Maurice some sort of weapon. Maurice wished he had bought it now.
“You shouldn’t be here, Veronica,” Maurice told her, as he continued looking over at the town. He had given up calling her Vonnie ever since she had turned up pregnant by another man.
“I always worry when you go hunting,” Veronica replied. “You’ve been gone for days.”
“I’m okay, Von—Veronica,” he replied. “You know I love hunting. I think it may be something I am actually good at.”
He had a few rabbits tied to his belt. He wasn’t good with the bow yet, but he had learned to set up a few good traps.
“Nevertheless, it is dangerous,” she replied. “We are new to all this. Who would look after me if you died?”
Why did she say such things?
“I’m sure you have someone to look after you,” Maurice replied, trying as hard as he could to stop the hurt from showing in his voice, and failing.
“I have nobody to look after me,” she replied. “My parents died that day as well.”
Maurice finally looked at her, as he could hear the grief in her voice. He had always loved Veronica, but she never returned his love, and what business was it of his if she found some comfort in some other man’s bed? It hurt him, but she wasn’t his and that was that.
“I hope that man will look after you, Veronica,” he said as he pointed at her swollen belly.
“Oh, I doubt that,” she replied quietly and looked away.
She had never told him who the father of her soon-to-be baby was, and he never asked. A part of him was curious as to whom she had chosen, but another part of him wanted to kill the bastard out of pure envy and jealousy.
“Have the Martins and their friends been behaving?” he asked and was surprised as Veronica flinched with fright. “Veronica, what’s wrong?”
“Everything is wrong, Maurice,” she replied, in tears. “They don’t contribute anything to our society, the food we grow or catch they take as their own back to their bloody homestead, and nobody can stand against them. Except maybe …”
“Except maybe who?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, “but poor Craig took another beating today.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Maurice said in exasperation. “I keep telling him to stay away from those racist shits, but he never listens.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Veronica replied. “He was just defending his brother and sister. The Martins hate his family. They even say the plague may have been a Chinese conspiracy.”
“Idiots!” Maurice snapped. “We all saw the reports on the television and Internet; the virus was worldwide.”
“Your uncle believes that was a fabricated story from the Chinese-owned media.”
“Well, if that was the case, then where is the Chinese army?”
“Conquering the mainland,” she replied.
“Jesus,” Maurice said in disgust. “People don’t believe in that shit, do they?”
“People are scared of the Martins,” Veronica replied with a shiver. “They just nod their heads and agree.”
“People should fight back,” he snapped and immediately felt bad that he had shouted at the one woman he loved the most. He had such a bad temper now. He almost had trouble controlling it. “I’m sorry, Veronica. Perhaps we should just leave them,” Maurice said more softly, “break away and form our own society.”
“I wish I could, Maurice,” Veronica replied, more tears flowing, “but some of us have babies now. John is a father now, with his son, Frank.” She didn’t mention Freda; nobody mentioned that woman if they could help it. “Plus, this land is the best for farming for miles and miles,” she finished.
“And you can’t travel for months,” Maurice replied quietly. “And all the horses have disappeared.”
“Yes,” Veronica said, looking at him with a tear-stained face as she held her arm
s around her stomach.
Maurice desperately wanted to comfort her, to hold her and tell her everything would be all right, but the baby in her belly, the baby from another man, stayed his hands.
“You can’t come looking for me when I’m hunting,” he said instead. “It is dangerous with the dead men out here, but it’s doubly dangerous for a pregnant woman to walk so far.”
“Promise me you will look after me, then,” she replied.
Why does she torment me so?
“Veronica,” he said softly.
“Promise me, Maurice,” she insisted, staring at him with scared eyes.
Maurice sighed. “I promise, Vonnie,” he replied and didn’t notice that he had called her by her pet name again. “C’mon, let me take you home.”
And as he walked her home, he looked over his shoulder at his old hometown. He thought he could see Hannah lying on the street. It was hard to tell now. Her skin was getting very pale.
“Bastards, bloody bastards,” Karen Cheng cursed as she wrapped a bandage around her eldest brother’s head.
“How long do we have to take this shit for?” raged her youngest brother, Ben, who was just eighteen years of age.
“We should leave,” Karen said. “We grow things, and they just take.”
The land where their small community lived was beautiful, and they could grow vegetables and fruit with ease. The mansion it surrounded was even more beautiful.
“We’ll die if we leave,” piped up Freda as she breastfed her newborn baby, Frank.
“We don’t know that,” replied John, as he looked fondly at his new baby son.
“Yes, we do, you stupid cunt,” replied Freda with her usual charm. “We only have a few sheep, goats and cows left. Nobody has seen any other animals for years. Your mate Maurice goes for days and only finds a few rabbits and kangaroos for us. Those dead cunts have eaten everything for miles. Perhaps the whole bloody state,” and then she proceeded to scowl at everybody in the tent, or maybe she was just looking about, as it was so hard to tell the difference with her.
“Maurice goes and stares at the school mostly,” John said softly.