The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown

by Owen Baillie

  29

  As the afternoon crept along and Jim failed to return, Kumiko knew Dan wouldn’t wait much longer. She didn’t want to wait alone, but following him outside the school perimeter was less appealing. No point putting them both at risk. It would be dark soon, and being alone in an unfamiliar place terrified her. That, along with the desperation to see her parents again, and her inability to resolve that issue, made Kumiko restless. She simply didn’t know what to do. If only Jim would return, she’d feel more comfortable with his mature guidance. He was older, more experienced, and had the foresight to recognize what was coming by preparing. The fact he still wasn’t back didn’t mean the worst, but the longer it took, the less his chances of survival. If he was gone, and only she and Dan remained, she wondered how long they would last.

  “I have to leave soon,” Dan said. He was wearing his blue pizza delivery cap again. “It will be dark. I’ll have the cover I need.”

  The brightness of the day had faded into a distant yellow sunset, edging its way below the sketchy mountain range on the horizon. It wasn’t quite dark; the silhouette of birds circling over the football field was still visible. “Can’t you wait a bit longer?” He shrugged. “What about Jim? Something must have happened to him.”

  “There’s nothing we can do for Jim. I have to concentrate on my grandma’s place now.”

  “But it’s stupid to go out there. They’re all around the house. What hope have you got?”

  His expression was solemn. “I have to try.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  Dan considered this. “It won’t. I’ll be careful.” He read her thoughts. “You’re tough. Resourceful. You’ll make it. What would you prefer, the machete, or the shotgun?”

  “Machete. But what if you die, Dan?” She had never been tactful.

  “I won’t.” He let out a long sigh. “She raised me from when I was a baby, and I’ve only ever lived with her. She’s all I’ve got, and as hopeless as it might seem, I need to find out.” Tears welled in his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand. “It’s hard for me to talk about her because it makes me think she’s dead. How could she have survived this?” He shook his head. “Part of me says she is gone, that I’ll only find an empty house. But I have to try, otherwise I’d never forgive myself.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just being selfish. Again.” She massaged her eyes. “Of course you have to check. I’d do the same if it were my parents. They’re out there too, and I’d give anything to be able to help them.”

  He came to her and put his hand on her arm. “I promise that when I get back we’ll go looking for you parents, okay?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, reading the intent in his eyes and the soft, gentle nature of his face. She felt sure his offer was genuine. “Thank you.” He dropped his hands away. “What’s your plan then?”

  Dan took the shotgun from the table. “Go out the back gate. Same one we came in.”

  “Do you need my help?”

  “Yeah. To lock it after I’m gone.”

  “What about coming back?”

  “I’ve thought about that. We’ll have to work out timing. Say, you come back in an hour and open it for me.”

  Kumiko raised her eyebrows. “Sixty minutes? You’re going to take exactly that long?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a guess. I’m just allowing enough time to find her. To be honest, I’m worried she might be injured and I won’t be able to move her. If that’s the case, I’m going to need a bit more time to work it out.”

  As darkness overtook the land, they scratched around the office building and found some old, lost property items in two plastic tubs. Dan took a green backpack and filled it with bottled water and some first aid supplies from the cupboard—a bandage, anti-bacterial cream, pins, and alcohol swabs. Kumiko made him eat some dry biscuits from the boxes of stores Jim had in one of the offices. Dan wolfed them down.

  “When did you last eat properly?” Kumiko asked.

  “Don’t know. But I’m bloody hungry.” He thought about it for a moment. “One day, we’ll sit down to the best steak dinner, with fat, golden chips, lots of salt, and a nice red wine jus.”

  “Oh my God, you’re killing me,” Kumiko said, laughing hard.

  Dan’s face exploded with a smile. “You’re so beautiful when you smile like that.”

  Kumiko made a face of surprise. “Don’t be silly. Let’s go.”

  Led by Dan, they slipped out the back door into the courtyard. The sky was clear, twinkling with stars, like a million diamonds on a blue-black blanket.

  “Stay alert and together,” Dan said. “Who knows what’s out here.”

  Kumiko swished the machete back and forth through the air. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Dan chuckled.

  He guided them with the flashlight from his phone as they crossed the courtyard in careful step. They passed through the gap between the library and upper school building, then climbed a set of red gum timber steps that led to the flat, grassy section. The sounds, still more than forty yards away, drifted to them as they reached the top step. Dan switched off the light. Kumiko’s stomach began to twist into knots. She’d been okay inside, but out here, the reality was confronting.

  They crept quietly across the grass without the light. The silhouette of the trees and houses stood out across the road, but everything below was a jumble of black.

  “There’s not as many tonight,” Dan whispered.

  “How can you tell?”

  “The sound. It’s quieter.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it. Mind you, one is too many.” He grunted. “Run me through the plan again?”

  “Lock the gate after me. Come back in” —he checked his watch— “an hour. Say eight-thirty. Wait in the office, it’s the safest place. Just keep the machete handy and don’t be afraid to use it.”

  Kumiko shifted it in her hand and felt the weight of the handle. “Oh, I won’t.”

  Dan approached the gate and unlocked the bolt slowly. It made a soft squeal. Kumiko took hold as he opened it.

  “Wait,” she said as he stepped through. He stopped and turned back to her. She made out his vague outline in the darkness. “Good luck.”

  He paused a moment, considering what to say. “You too. Get back inside as soon as you can.”

  And then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness. He was right; there didn’t seem to be as many as the night before, but still she heard them hissing and slobbering. She watched the place where Dan had been a moment before. She was finally alone again. She realized now she hated it. Maybe that’s why she’d insisted her parents come over after Brad had bailed on her.

  Kumiko closed the gate and felt for the bolt, then lined up the hole with her finger. It slid in with a squeal, and she snapped the padlock back on.

  She started back across the grassy patch towards the timber stairs, pulled her iPhone out, and set the timer for fifty-five minutes. She only had twenty-six percent of battery charge left. Before she put her phone away, she poked the white light ahead and gauged the remaining route to the steps. Reluctantly, she pressed the button to turn off the light and started back, following the mental image of where she needed to go. She listened for movement in the darkness, her nerves on edge, her legs and arms ready to run or swing the machete and fight if it came to that.

  She reached the stairs and felt her way down, using the timber handrail. As she walked between the buildings and into the courtyard, Kumiko heard a sound. She halted, holding the machete out in front of her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. With her other hand, she reached into her pocket, removed her phone and activated the light.

  There was nothing in the immediate vicinity. She held the beam out, moving it in an arc, pushing the blackness aside. The shadows moved and shifted shape, but nothing sinister appeared. After a time, she realized if she stood there long enough, something would attack her. She hurrie
d across the remainder of the courtyard. At the office building, she opened the door and entered. She turned off her phone, knowing it would be dead soon if she kept using it.

  Jim had mentioned a torch in one of the offices. Kumiko searched for and found it amongst a bunch of old rags and batteries in the supply cupboard. Using its beam, she led herself back to the staff room. She slumped down onto the sofa, turned off the light, and closed her eyes. Alone again, she thought. Her parents were lost. Dan and Jim had left. It was the worst possible outcome for Kumiko. Maybe there was a message in all of it, though. Maybe it was time for her to grow up and learn how to be more independent. She stretched out on the sofa and rested her ankles on the opposite armrest. It felt good to have her feet up. The sofa was comfortable. Her eyes felt full, the lids heavy, threatening to close. She didn’t want to fall asleep.

  But her aching, tired body began to relax. She was so tired, and she found it impossible to fight off. Her eyes slowly shut, and she drifted.

  She came out of a deep sleep when a booming crack sounded nearby. Kumiko sat up with a start, cursing herself for drifting off. She waited for the sound to come again, but it was only the whisper of a gentle breeze rubbing the tree branches against the guttering.

  She rubbed her eyes and swung her legs off the sofa. The thin white light of her phone was still on. She picked it up and checked the timer: six minutes and counting down. Still plenty of time to make it up to the gate, though her battery life was only eight percent.

  Taking the machete off the table, Kumiko hurried through the office to the rear door. You can do this. She turned the brass doorknob and pushed it open with a squeal, then slipped out into the night. Warm air gusted against her face, and with it a rancid smell. She pulled the door closed and ran across the courtyard with one hand poking the torch into the darkness, the other gripping the machete.

  On the other side of the courtyard, she met the dark silhouette of the art room building and ran past it. She danced up the timber steps, heart racing, thinking only that she didn’t want to let Dan down. She imagined him waiting there with his grandmother, trapped on the other side of the gate with the infected.

  At the top of the stairs, she shone the light across the grassy stretch. It didn’t quite reach to the fence, but she saw a figure standing on the other side with its back to her, fingers looped through the chain link. She held the flashlight higher, aiming for more distance, and caught the lower part of Dan’s blue top. It was him.

  Kumiko crouched over as she ran, keeping the knife out in front and shone the torch ahead. The ground was uneven in places and she had to slow her pace to keep her balance. Dan was looking back at something. Kumiko switched the machete to the torch hand and began to fish the keys out of her pocket.

  “Dan,” she called out in a whisper.

  Dan staggered as he turned, and instantly Kumiko knew the thing at the fence was not Dan. It pressed itself against the wire as she poked the light into its ragged, haggard face, all pale, oozing flesh and straggly hair that had once been a woman.

  Where was Dan? She stopped and fumbled the iPhone from her jean shorts. The timer alarm was down to ten seconds. He should have been there. She cancelled it and stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

  The thing at the fence opened its mouth and begged for her flesh in its unnatural voice. Had it killed Dan? She stepped forward and swiped the machete at its face in warning.

  “Get away from here!” It drew close again and she stuck the blade through a hole in the fence and into its shoulder. Blood oozed out of the wound. Kumiko withdrew it and stabbed again, screaming behind gritted teeth. She pulled it out and a patch of blood expanded on the woman’s blue shirt. It was going to take more than that to kill her.

  From the line of houses on the other side of the road, came a voice. Kumiko swung the torch beyond the infected woman and caught the shadowy image of a person on the other side of the street. Relief washed over her. He was alive, but his grandmother wasn’t with him.

  Hearing voices, the infected woman turned for Dan as he stepped onto the road. Kumiko ran to the gate. “Over here!” It turned, torn between the two options, and then chose Dan, gurgling as it went for him. At the gate, Kumiko removed the keys and fumbled with the lock. “Here!” she shouted. “Come here!” The lock clicked open and she slipped it out of the hole. She hooked it around the bolt and rattled the fence. The infected thing turned back.

  Kumiko pulled the gate open and stepped through the entrance. It started towards her. “Come on now. That’s it.” Kumiko’s heart thumped in her chest. She took several more steps forward. The infected woman moved with surprising speed, calling in a whisper for Kumiko’s flesh. On the street, more infected hurried out of the shadows after Dan.

  The infected woman was on her. Kumiko swung the machete. It was a poor attempt though. The blade skidded off the muscle between its shoulder and neck. The thing grunted and fell to one knee. Another infected came out of the shadows—a man with dark skin and bulging eyes. Kumiko stepped back and swung the blade. It was a better shot this time. It struck the neck and dug in, making a squishing sound, and sent a spray of blood over the fence. The thing lost its balance and fell backwards onto the sidewalk.

  “Hurry!”

  Dan was almost across the road. Kumiko started towards him, but reaching the curb, something grabbed her from behind. She spun, shining the torch into its eyes, and saw the woman with her stringy blonde hair. She reached out a gruesome, mangled hand and grabbed for Kumiko’s throat. The woman’s grip was tight, making it difficult to breathe. As Kumiko shoved the woman away, the torch slipped out of her hand and fell into the grass, its light angled upwards. Kumiko stepped back, opening up the space, and swung the machete, turning away as it caught the side of the woman’s head. Blood splattered across her chest. The thing screeched and crumpled to the ground but immediately started crawling for her. It grabbed for Kumiko’s ankles, mouth open, looking for one last meal. With two hands, Kumiko raised the machete high and brought it down against the woman’s neck. The blade dived into the flesh, splattering dark matter over the sidewalk. A terrible rage overcame Kumiko, and she kept going until the head began to separate.

  Dan reached her, his face stern, blood smeared over his jacket and neck. “Where is she?” Kumiko asked.

  “No idea. I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find her.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  A pack of infected closed in, a policeman in the lead, his grubby face and drooping eyes brimming with eagerness. The policeman got a hand onto Dan’s shoulder. Kumiko leapt forward and swiped the machete across the policeman’s face. The blade opened up a dark wound and he fell back into the group, allowing Dan to slip through the open gate. Kumiko retreated as an obese man in brown pajamas groped her arm. She hacked downwards and chopped into it. He let go and fell to the grass.

  Dan grabbed her top and snatched her back through the gate, the torch bobbing around like a strobe light at a disco. Then he slammed the gate shut, grabbed the padlock, and slipped it through the hole. The lock clicked shut as the pack hit the fence with a crunch. The entire thing shuddered under their weight. Kumiko stepped back, panting, unable to believe they had made it.

  30

  Jim stood up from the fold-out chair and stretched, enjoying the relief in his lower back. He’d been in the chair most of the night, finding brief periods of sleep between the worry of how he would escape the garage and looking through old stuff he’d found in the shelves. The stifling heat hadn’t helped, nor had the sound of the infected moseying around the yard and brushing against the garage walls. They sensed his presence, and now they weren’t going to leave until they got a piece of him. He’d taken to wearing an old pair of ear muffs hanging on a sheet of pegboard against the wall. He used to wear them while cutting his lawn, but they’d lost the foam inserts and didn’t suppress the mower’s engine. Still, they drowned out the general babbling of the infected, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He had waited,
hoping they might leave, but each time he checked, there were more. The simple fact was, if he had tried to leave the garage at any point, he’d have surely been overcome by the infected.

  Amongst all the stuff, Jim had found a shoebox full of old photos. Alesia had taken most of their albums, but he had fought for a small pile that contained his favorite memories. A photo of Steph on her eighth birthday had twisted the knots of sentimentality around his heart. There were others of their Queensland holidays—pictures of the four of them standing outside SeaWorld and Dreamworld, taking the big rides and having their photos snapped by the automatic cameras, their faces twisted with fear. How they had loved those trips—the kids, anyway. Jim remembered a fair bit of arguing with Alesia, especially in recent years when their marriage had been at its frailest. But there had been some good memories. Often, after eating at the resort, they would curl up on a sun lounge and drink wine while the kids slept. They had chatted about their lost dreams and future ambitions, and sometimes, things had been perfect.

  Despite the arguments, he missed her. Staying in the house they had shared for so many years was a blessing and a curse. Often, he would imagine her standing at the bench preparing a meal, or smell her scent in the bedroom. He wondered if it would ever stop hurting. Why had she left? Jim thought he knew why. They saw the world differently now. She wanted more from him—more attention, more interaction. But he was always thinking about what he had to do next and where he was going, never about her. They had discussed it a number of times, but knowing your faults, knowing you are the cause of something, is the easy part. Changing is the hardest part. Having the strength of character to modify your behavior, to force yourself every minute of every day to be aware of what you’re doing, and then do it differently, was the real battle. In this case, Jim had failed, and he was left to suffer in the aftermath.