by Matt J. Pike
So, pretty flimsy plan, just an idea really. But an idea with logical upside for everyone… and they’re the ideas more likely to end up working (so I am telling myself). Shane was into it as well. I mean, we both need a chop out as the workload will kill us quicker than a duck-only diet, but not only that, if/when shit does ever hit the fan with the Norwood crew, we both knew the more guns in the hands of good guys, the better.
Shane was pretty clued in as to how people tick and he said we needed to spend some time sorting out our systems before we approached them. His thinking is we need to totally and absolutely have processes in place for everything – how we designate tasks, how much work we do, food distribution, storage, access to weaponry, as well as how we assess each of them as worthy of access and free rein to the oval. We are both pretty sure they’ll leap at the chance to come, but we don’t know how many there actually are, what mental state they’re in, how coordinated and loyal they are as a group – all things that factor in to how safe an undertaking this is.
I still remember the looks in their eyes on my visits to TTP, that dead hopelessness I’ll never forget. But, if hope returned, if food returned, if safety and a real home came back to them, would they return? The people behind the dead eyes – they’re still people under there; we both need to believe that for this plan to work.
So, the thinking is, once we’ve sussed our systems and feel as watertight as we can with our own safety and supplies, well, then I head up and establish contact with them. We assume they’ll have a leader, or leaders, who call the shots, I’ll tell them about what we’re offering, and get a feel for their mood and motives from there. If they seem genuinely keen, and I’m feeling a decent sense of trust in their responses, I’ll let them know the location and they can make the walk to the oval to change their lives for the better.
Do I feel safe and at ease? No, not really. But, the logistics of what we’re building, and what we need to do to protect that asset, mean we really don’t have a choice.
Personally, I feel even more pressure. The responsibility of coming up with the plan as well as being the person to call the shots on the watched’s leaders. That’s a lot to have riding on me. But, Shane seems to trust me on that and, at the end of the day, it’s either do this, or face whatever horde will come at us from Norwood on our own. When you boil it back to those two choices, well, there is no choice. Just logic.
Of course, I could just head home with my tail between my legs and half an epic stash of food. But, I don’t think that’s me anymore. This oval represents something now that’s bigger than me. It’s establishing something, a legacy maybe, hope maybe, I don’t know if I can express it properly, only that I absolutely know if I ran back to Trinity Gardens now I would always know it was the wrong decision. More than that though; if the worst happened and I died as a result of some decision I’m making now, whether it’s the watched turning bad, or defending the oval against the Norwood crew, well, I think I’d rather that than wasting away emotionally not chasing a dream.
So, for me, there is no decision to make. While there is plenty of doubt there, and second guessing, there is no question this is the right option. The only option.
Anyways, all this activity and planning has Shane and I back to our best. He’s a problem solver at heart too, and when we’re working together on bigger challenges, it’s actually a pretty sweet combo.
*
October 26, 2014
Crazy morning. I was on the early watch and it was just before 9am when I saw them. Two men – Norwood hubbers, I’m sure – heading down King William St. They moved slowly and they definitely knew to keep their eyes glued on the oval. I shot Shane a heads up on the two-way, then watched them approach though the scope… and prayed I wouldn’t require any more of the gun’s features.
But it was more than them watching for someone like me in a sniper position, they were taking in all the surroundings. They stopped at the bridge and looked down the river to the fallen footbridge, then, as they got closer, they paid attention to the wall we’d put up.
That’s when Shane finally joined me. I figured they were doing some recon on our defences and told Shane as much. He agreed as he watched them through his gun’s scope. Of course, all my doubts on Shane were back in an instant as I watched him out of the corner of my eye. Shane downed his gun for a moment and looked further around the area.
“There’s two more coming in from the uni grounds,” he said.
Sure enough there they were. That’s when the scale of the situation hit home.
We hashed out a quick plan. Shane was going to do some recon around the rest of the oval, while I would keep my eye on the two pairs already in sight. If they crossed onto oval turf I would fire a warning shot. If they continued I would aim for them.
I didn’t want that to be the solution, but, given Shane’s escalation the other day and what the Norwood crew were after, I could see there really wasn’t a choice. Cue: heart racing out of control, sweaty palms and shaking hands.
I watched as the two groups used their own two-way radios to talk to each other. Just watching them – when they’d talk and when they’d listen, I was pretty sure there were others involved. It was a feeling that was confirmed when Shane chimed in on his two-way.
“Another group coming in from North Adelaide, by the Cathedral,” he said.
“Roger,” I replied. “Do you reckon there’s any more?”
“Wouldn’t bet against it,” he said. “If they set one foot on Oval turf, we send them a message.”
It was just overwhelming, that moment. I knew this was a recon, but I also knew one of them would cross the line on to our turf. It just had to happen. They were there to test us out and push boundaries, we were there to keep them at a safe distance. It was a game – how close can we get without being shot at. Fun for all the family.
So, I guess my mindset changed right there and then. I wasn’t worried about Shane shooting, I was preparing to shoot myself. There was just too much at stake for me not to.
I watched as they communicated on their two-ways, looked around and took notes. I opened comms with Shane again to update him and tell him I thought they were going to cross onto the oval’s grounds. He repeated what he’d said before about warning shot, then shoot to protect, and I think that’s what I needed to hear again to make it all OK, what I was planning.
I wiped the sweat from my hands and tried to get my heart rate under control as best I could with some deep breaths. I was toggling my aim between the two pairs, but trying my best to stay calm, I’d count to 10 looking at one group, then switch to the other.
Then they put down the two-ways and one of the crew at the King William Rd wall made some hand gestures that could only mean advance. It was that group I focused on for the shot as they stepped forward. I aimed in front of them and slightly to the left, waited for them to cross onto oval territory, took one more deep breath for luck, then fired.
The sound echoed around me, deafeningly loud, and it definitely was heard for what it was to the invaders, as they all ducked. I heard another shot in the distance followed by Shane’s voice on the two-way. “That was me. What’s happening there?”
I could see the enemy in comms too, and by the time I’d picked up my two-way to respond to Shane, they were already scrambling from the scene.
“They’re doing a runner,” I said to Shane.
“Same,” he said, before adding a few seconds later. “I’m going to do a lap of the perimeter to see what else I can see.”
I waited for what seemed like hours but was probably closer to 30 minutes for him to return. My adrenalin was in overdrive, even after the raiders had left my sights, and disappeared into the ash of the city and beyond. Really, I could not stop it, I was wired, like I’d had my blood replaced with energy drink!
When Shane did return he scared the crap out of me. I realised I must’ve looked like a crazy at that point and we both had a bit of a laugh at my expense. Shane said he ha
dn’t seen anyone else but there were double tracks that came near the oval edge at both ends, coming in from Jeffcott St on the North Adelaide side and over the Morphett St bridge (and those definitely weren’t mine from the duck hunt).
So, that was their first test, it seemed. They had approached from every possible angle looking for any guide on our numbers, defensive strengths and weaknesses, and whatever else they could find. Shane said the other footprints didn’t approach too close but, like I said, first test.
Next time maybe more numbers, getting in a bit closer, maybe armed, coming at stranger hours, perhaps in camouflage… or who knows, maybe something bigger.. grander than we can imagine right now. It’s a massive concern, but we still have our biggest secrets protected – our numbers and our firepower. So, for the time being, at least, we don’t feel they’ll have the confidence to attack.
So, we either lay in wait or make a move of our own. And today it’s become even clearer than yesterday that recruiting the watched needs to happen and happen fast.
*
Shane and I are going to spend the evening devising the systems we think we need to come across as professional and in control to the watched. This is the most important part, we reckon. If they see us as having our shit together and we can build a strong rapport with whatever their leadership structure is, well, we’ll have to worry less about attacks coming from inside the oval walls. Shane’s super determined on this point, about them buying into us and our way of life, as the key element to the whole thing working. And I get where he’s coming from, it makes total sense. Giving them shelter and food would be one thing, but giving them a structure they can believe in, and see a future in, would give them a greater purpose.
Shane surprises me with his level of thinking sometimes. I mean, that’s impressive stuff. He relates a lot of it back to his days playing high level-football – only amateur leagues, but still high enough. He says that successful teams have a culture that everyone can buy into and once they do the results can be pretty powerful.
And we don’t even need powerful… we just need them not to kill us and take our stuff. The only problem is that this culture of ours, the one we’re hoping they’ll buy into, well, we’re going to be making it up tonight and doing the rest of it on the fly.
So, yeah, there’s that.
Well, I’m off to build a strong culture. In the morning I’m firing Phoenix up and heading to Tea Tree Plaza. Beyond that I don’t know, but I have a feeling things are going to get crazy busy and diary updates might run a bit dry for a while.
*
November 2, 2014
So much to tell.
I headed out at first light to Tea Tree Plaza. I went through Melbourne St North Adelaide, past Medindie and on to North East Rd. I had to stop a couple of times to work out the best way to navigate rubble on the streets, but overall it was a pretty clean run in good weather. What shocked me was the damage. I mean, I know the level of damage, mostly caused by the tsunami, but apart from the city and a few streets around the fringe of the damage near my old house, I hadn’t really delved too deeply into it. This time I passed several kilometres of it – all areas I hadn’t been since rock night. It was bleak. Thank God the path out to North East Rd was relatively easy, as it wouldn’t have been difficult to get lost in all the sameness of destruction.
It really put the scale of things into perspective.
I didn’t really need that perspective.
I didn’t see any randoms on my way to TTP, even above the tsunami line. I chose to think it was too early in the morning for people to be out, rather than the human numbers thinning even further.
I slipped in and around the street near TTP until I found my favourite car park, then followed my same ritual to hide Phoenix and finish the journey on foot. Got that down to a fine art these days.
When I first arrived at the site, there were no watched to be seen anywhere. There were guards in position on the wall though. I decided to hang back from the corner a little, somewhat out of sight, and observe. Not that I had much choice.
Within about 20 minutes two of the watched shuffled over from the hospital site to the corner. They wandered to the spot I had seen them at before – near the old McDonald’s. And there they stood. They didn’t talk to each other, they didn’t talk to the guards watching them, they just stood there, existing. It was quite bizarre really.
I gave it a few minutes more to see if anything else would happen – it didn’t. Then I got myself back into mysterious stranger mode and made my way over. I had barely made it to the middle of the street and all eyes were on me… and a gun from the wall.
It made me realise how different I was to everyone in this place, and that whatever odd little ecosystem they had going on here, well, I didn’t belong. And I really did look different. I mean, I’m thin, but I’m getting-my-calories thin, the watched were just skin-vacuum-sealed-over-bone thin. Standing up seemed a chore to them.
As I neared the closest of the watched pair, the guard was already on to me. Whether he recognised me from a few weeks ago, or just smelled a situation he didn’t like, I’m not sure. “What are you doing here? What do you want?” he said.
I did my best to ignore him and moved close enough to the first watched so that I was not threateningly close yet could speak without the guards overhearing. I had a backpack stacked with canned food. I unzipped it and raised one of the cans, again not far enough for the guards to see, and said something like, “We have food, lots of food.”
I could hear the guard barking at me, clearly not pleased with my presence, but I ignored him and said something I’d never thought I’d say in my life. “Take me to your leader.”
The watched guy switched his gaze between me and the bag. For the first time I saw some emotion in one of them. Not just one emotion either – doubt, desire, distrust. He signalled his mate over and stared at me, trying to get a read on my intentions, no doubt. I just locked eyes with him and nodded.
His buddy moved up next to him and they whispered to each other, while I waited and the guard on the wall increased his pitch and volume to show his displeasure. I tried not to look at the guard as I could feel that gun on me, but positioned myself so that he was in my peripheral vision to the side of the watched.
The watched I had approached first, walked by and whispered, “Follow me”, as he did. I gave the guards a quick glance as I turned; the gun was still tracking me. I gave them a mysterious stranger stare, then towed in behind the watched.
I followed him through the hospital car park and to the front entrance. I was soon through the broken doors and into another world, a dank, depressing world. It was broken furniture, darkness and cold. I passed a dozen or so watched as I travelled deeper into the hospital, most of them huddled around a fire. They stared at me without speaking.
Uneasy only begins to sum up my thoughts at that moment. Pity was the other, I mean the whole place smelled of… not sure… death, maybe. These people weren’t living they were extending their dying time. I walked in silence, trying to take in as much of the place as I could, every sense that hit me, every observation I could make – it didn’t matter what, I figured, it would all add up to an overall feel for the place… should I get out alive.
I was taken to a room beyond the main area, where three people huddled around another fire. I was told to wait by the entrance while my chaperone went over to chat to the three. They stood, talked in whispers I couldn’t hear, then summoned me over, while the chaperone left.
The three looked as equally frail as the others in the front room, but it was obvious I had dealt my way to the main decision making table of the watched. The guy in the middle looked me up and down, then said, “You have food?”
I recognised him straight away. He was the guy I first showed the photo of the Jamesons to a few weeks back. I think he recognised me too.
I nodded, took off my backpack, unzipped it and opened it wide to show them the contents, then pushed it towards the
m. “There’s a can opener in there too,” I said as they started rifling through the contents.
“It’s not even the tip of the iceberg,” I said.
“Who are you?” the woman to his right asked.
I studied them. This was my moment to make the call. Can they be trusted with more information? They were sizing me up at the same time, in the moments they could take their eyes off the cache of cans.
I made the call, with little more to go on than a vibe really. Well, in part the vibe – the body language, tone of voice and look in their eyes, but in equal part the fact they had a command structure. That made the potential task ahead a far easier one for Shane and I, something we had talked through and hoped for from them.
I told them we had a place with a large supply of food and we needed people to join our community and help protect our assets. We wanted them basically.
They huddled together and talked in a low whisper before asking me to leave the room, while they discussed things. I nodded to them and obliged. After a minute or so, I was asked back in. They shot me a bunch of questions, about the supplies, location and why they were needed. I answered everything as honestly as possible, except the location, which I told them I couldn’t reveal for now.
I tried to emphasise the idea of a community being built, which is as Shane and I discussed the night before. Who knows, maybe that’s what we’d been building towards all along without realising, which is interesting. There was no question I had them at food, but all the talk of community and belonging was what made the difference I reckon. Enough to start it on the right foot, like, the potential connection is more than a need on both sides… there’s something bigger.