The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown

by Owen Baillie

  “Don’t be silly, Bill,” Juliet said. “You won’t even make it to the car.”

  Bill frowned. “Where I come from, we do the dirty work.” Grimacing, he started hobbling towards her, struggling to put all his weight on his bad ankle. “I just need to walk around for a bit. Get it used to things again.”

  Juliet put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this, Bill. I appreciate your desire to help, but I’m doing it. It’s my job.” He shifted his stance and almost stumbled again. She stepped in front, blocking his way.

  He stood there for a moment. “All right, all right.” He turned and hobbled back to the wall and lowered himself into a sitting position.

  Juliet walked to the entrance doors and peered out at the empty pumps. She unhooked the padlock and pried apart the doors until there was a small gap. She placed the padlock beside the door, and turned to them a final time. She gave them each a smile.

  “Good luck,” Jessica said.

  Then she turned and slipped out through the opening.

  Outside, the air was much cooler. She closed her eyes and took a gentle gust of the wind on her face. It brought the scent of death with it, the decay of the world as they had known it. She started across the wide concrete floor towards the bowser beside which Frank Pinelli’s Mercedes was parked. She kept her pace steady, searching the area beyond the fuel station for signs of the infected, expecting to see some.

  Halfway there, she realized she hadn’t picked up the car keys. “Fuck.”

  She turned around and found Jessica and Meg peering over the central partition of the entrance doors. She caught Jessica’s eye and made a hand signal, indicating she needed the keys. Jessica frowned, and then her forehead smoothed out and she disappeared from the window.

  Juliet glanced around for signs of the infected. Her tummy fluttered, and she felt cold panic working its way over her. Stupid stupid stupid! She’d been so focused on getting to the pump, she’d forgotten the most important thing.

  Jessica appeared in the doorway, holding up the small key ring. Juliet made a throwing motion. Jessica nodded, understanding, and took several steps, then tossed the keys high into the air. Juliet watched them arc, then start to fall, and for a long moment, she thought they were going to come down short and land with a jingle on the hard floor. She stuck out her hand, moving it back and forth to meet the flight. And then they hit her palm with a flat smack and she closed her hand around them. She gave Jess the thumbs up, then turned and started for the pump, scanning both sides of the station.

  Reaching the back of the vehicle, she began to think this thing might go off without a hitch. She slid around the trunk and moved along the side of the car to the bowser, peering between others at the street and scene beyond. It was still clear.

  The fuel cover was still open from her earlier attempt, the cap hanging on its plastic tie. She reached around for the hose with painstaking care, lifting the nozzle off its holder, careful not to knock it against the edges of the bowser, as she must have done so a thousand times before. She took the hose to the car and inserted it into the fuel hole. Every small sound hurt her ears. She felt certain it would alert the infected.

  The next part was going to be the most difficult. She hoped the pump wasn’t a loud clunky thing as most of them were. And would it even work? She slotted it in place, and then held her breath. Pressing the trigger, the pump began to whir and whine—louder than she ever imagined—but after a moment, fuel began to flow, and the numbers started ticking over on the digital board.

  She cringed as it chugged away, holding her breath at the noise. The numbers rotated with painful slowness. Had they always been so slow? She turned towards the office, wondering if they heard the noise inside. All of them were lined up at the door, watching through the window. Jessica gave her the thumbs up signal.

  It was about a quarter of the way through when she heard something from the street. Juliet turned her head slowly, peering between the concrete pylon and bowsers, and saw one of the infected shuffling across the road. It wasn’t looking her way, but its twitching, awkward movement and low grunting noise told her it knew she was there.

  Shit. The tank was about half full. If she stopped pumping now they’d have enough fuel to get by for a time, but what if the next place proved just as difficult to find? What if waiting another minute was the difference between having to do the same thing all over again, the difference between life and death at a later time? She decided to hold on as long as possible.

  Inside the store, the others were waving for her to cut the fuel and get moving. The first infected had reached the other side of the road. Juliet guessed she had about ten seconds. Beyond it, three more were coming her way. Her stomach tightened. Time to go.

  She took the pump out and rammed it back into the bowser. It went in with a clunk and she saw the first infected jerk its head her way as it reached the sidewalk. She screwed the cap on, hand trembling, and leapt for the open driver’s door. She hit her head on the roof but landed in the seat and yanked the door closed. She fumbled with the ring then shoved the key into the ignition. It slipped in first time, and she turned the key, expecting their luck had run out and the car wouldn’t start, leaving her fate to the infected. But it did start, humming into life. The first infected reached the car and banged on the driver’s window. Juliet jumped, but did not scream. She snatched the gear into drive and pushed the handbrake off. The car leapt forward as another one floated into the rearview mirror.

  The wheels chirped as she pulled the car around to meet up with the store entrance. The others were ready, doors open, Jess and Meg standing with bags of supplies. Juliet pressed the trunk button and the lid flew open. She jammed the brake, then stole a glance from where she had just come. Seven or eight more had joined the initial few.

  She slid out of the car and pulled the back door open for Bill. Grimacing, he tottered the final few steps and fell into the backseat. Meg and Jessica tossed their bags into the trunk and slammed it shut. They each made their way to separate sides of the vehicle, but Jessica was closest to the approaching infected. Juliet had a grim premonition of what was about to happen; the infected would get to Jessica before she made it inside the car.

  A shambling man in a tattered shirt did just that. He clawed at Jessica and she fell back against the side of the car, defending herself. Juliet scrambled around the hood.

  “Get away from her!”

  As she reached them, the thing turned to face her and she shoved it away, absently feeling herself losing control. She struck her fists against its chest and drove it back from Jessica. Others were imminent, their slimy faces and claw-like hands ready to do their work.

  Bill appeared, standing between them. “Get in!” Balancing on one good leg, he swung a meaty fist at the closest infected. His knuckles struck it on the bridge of the nose, making a cracking sound. Blood ran from its nose and it fell back into its comrades, scattering their attack.

  Juliet scrambled around the hood towards the driver’s door. Jessica leapt for the passenger as the remaining threat swiped at her. Bill guided her into the car, placing his body in front of hers, and threw another straight fist, knocking down the attacker.

  “In, Bill!” Juliet said as she pulled open the driver’s door and hung on the edge. With Jessica safely inside the car, Bill hobbled towards the door, jabbing the faces of those closing in on him.

  Around them, more infected had joined the cause, sensing the feast that awaited them inside the vehicle. Bill fell into the back seat. Juliet took off even before he had a chance to close the door, sweeping two of the infected aside with a thump. Another climbing on the hood fell off and slipped underneath the front. The car jumped and jived as Juliet ran over it. Several landed on the hood and began to claw the slippery surface. Another half dozen entered the space under the station awning, headed directly for them.

  “Keep going,” Bill yelled.

  The tires chirped as she turned for the driveway. They broke free of the ho
rde. Others had adjusted their line and came for the moving vehicle. She accelerated and they bounced off the bumper bar like bowling pins.

  She braked at the sloping driveway, but the front end of the Mercedes scraped and crunched the road. Juliet was thrown out of her seat. She turned the car up the center of the street between the buildings and storefronts, weaving around parked cars and a tow truck that appeared to have pulled up ready to cart someone’s vehicle away. It cleared briefly, but the way was blocked by a three-car accident, preventing them going any further in that direction.

  “There!” Bill said, pointing to an escape route.

  Juliet skidded sideways into a corresponding street. She almost ran the Mercedes up onto the curb and into a set of tables and chairs outside a café, but saved it at the last moment. They drove another hundred yards past several smaller side streets before another problem greeted them. They were at a dead end. Ahead, the road finished at a high fence with what appeared to be an automobile wrecker on the other side. She pulled up and began to turn around.

  “They’re behind us,” Jessica said, twisting towards the back window. “And there’s a lot of them.”

  “Where are they coming from?” Juliet screamed.

  She turned the Mercedes back around to face the way they had come. Jessica was right. There were a lot of infected. They seemed to be coming out of the buildings, as though drawn to the sound of the car. She flexed her hands around the wheel as she summoned the courage to drive through the wall of infected.

  From the left side of the street, a car exploded out of a laneway and rammed through the approaching mob. Their bodies crashed off the heavy SUV, sending them flying into the air.

  A shaggy-haired man with a beard poked his head out of the driver’s window and screamed. “Follow me!” The big vehicle spun its tires as it turned back the way it had come.

  Juliet slammed the accelerator as the other vehicle disappeared back down the narrow laneway. Some of the infected began to recover, slapping and banging on the side of the car as they passed. And then they were through, racing up another laneway towards the big truck in front, safe for who knew how much longer.

  33

  They were up early, putting supplies together for the Mole Creek Army Base. Ken had packed his Nissan Navarra Crew Cab and hardtop-covered truck bed with all sorts of supplies. He had the car fridge hooked up to the battery to keep things cold, and numerous sleeping bags and soft beds. Mac hooked up his 8 x 4 trailer to Ken’s car and filled it with all the items from a list they had made sitting around the kitchen table—camping gear, packs of bottled water, ropes, torches, clothes, and two shotguns.

  Holly still hadn’t returned. Tyler stood on the back porch right after he woke and called her name for a time. They were ready to go when Mac climb out of the car and went to him. He squatted beside Tyler as he kept calling, waiting for the kid to make the realization.

  “I think she’s gone, buddy.”

  Tyler walked to the end of the back verandah. “No, she’s not. HOLLY!”

  Mac knew the kid had a stubborn streak. He was the kind that would argue a punishment until a weak parent gave up, knowing if he kept on about it, he’d eventually get his way. Mac didn’t think that was going to work this time, though.

  “You know what I think?”

  Tyler kept walking the verandah. At first, he wouldn’t look at Mac, and then after a time, he caught his eye. For Mac, that was the signal. “I think she knew something bad was happening and took off.” Tyler considered this. “Dogs are smart, champ. They know how to survive. Before they were people’s pets, they lived on their own. They know how to find food and water.”

  “But can’t we just wait a bit longer?”

  “People are waiting for us, Ty. Mom might be waiting for us. I think we’ve given her long enough.” Tyler’s expression folded, and his gaze fell to the verandah. Mac put his arms out, but Tyler shook his head.

  “Then promise me one day we can come back and check for her again.”

  “Geez, Ty—”

  “Promise me, Dad, or I’m not coming.” He sat down on the wooden floor, legs and arms crossed.

  He could pick the kid up and carry him to the car kicking and screaming, but Mac thought he’d had enough in the last few days. It might tip him over the edge. Maybe Tyler was saying he wouldn’t accept any more loss. If Mac forced him to come along now without conceding anything, who knew what it would do to him. And if Jessica— he wouldn’t think about that yet.

  “All right, mate. I promise we’ll come back at some point and see if she’s around.”

  Tyler considered this for a moment, then stood, nodding. “Thanks, Dad.”

  They left the verandah and headed towards the idling cars along the side of the house. Tyler climbed into his booster seat and Mac took the wheel.

  He gave Ken a wave and eased Dave-O’s V8 Commodore down the driveway, away from his and Jessica’s home of five years. In the rearview mirror, he took a final drink of the cozy old house, the full-length decking, and abundance of beautiful grey gum trees spread across the property. He loved the place. So much of their life had been lived out here. They’d scraped and saved to buy it—given up so many things to be able to afford the mortgage. Now, it seemed as though none of that mattered. There might be nothing left the next day. And so many people were in the same situation. What counted now was their lives—the safety of his family and friends. That’s what they were fighting for, the right to exist, and maybe one day live the old life again.

  “Cheer up, buddy,” Smitty said, reading his thoughts. “You’ll be back here one day. With Jess and the kids. This thing won’t go on forever.”

  It was as much the uncertainty of not knowing if Jessica was safe. Mac never realized how much he took for granted, knowing his wife and kids were unharmed. He imagined this was what it had been like for Jess when he was on rotation in the Middle East, and he found a new appreciation for her strength to not let the worry unravel her.

  At the end of the driveway, Mac turned the car onto Frankford Road, with Ken and Shelli right behind, their white Nissan Navarra and Mac’s trailer in tow. He slipped on his scratched and battered pair of sunglasses, switched on the walkie-talkie, and put it up to his mouth.

  “Ken, this is Mac, do you read me? Over.”

  The device hissed and then flashed on. “Got you, Mac, loud and clear.”

  “Just leave the thing on the dash in case we need it. Over.”

  “Right-o, Mac. Will do.”

  He considered giving Ken a rundown on radio protocol, but figured they would get by.

  They headed north—back towards Devonport—the air shimmering with heat above the fields on either side of the highway. Frankford Road going south and Birralee Road beyond was the quickest way, but it was locked up with some kind of accident. Ken had been scanning his CB radio for days and picked up all sorts of handy information. Frankford Road through the forest reserve was mostly clear. Smitty thought he saw something odd wandering in the scrub off the edge of the road, but he couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t until just past the intersection of Hermitage Lane that they spotted the first of the infected poking about a front yard. These were still remote houses, fifteen minutes from Latrobe and the turnoff towards Mole Creek.

  Mac was scanning a line of huge stringybark gum trees when a loud blast rocked the sky in the distance towards Devonport.

  “More bombing,” Dutch said.

  Mac wondered what it was like closer to the city, where the numbers of dead would be vastly greater than anything they had seen on the outskirts. He shuddered at the idea. If they were still bombing though, it meant the military was probably still functioning in some capacity. That gave him hope. The safety zone at Mole Creek would tell them more, too.

  The radio crackled. “Mac, it’s Ken, was that a bomb of some kind?”

  Mac picked up the small handheld. “We think so, mate. They’re still clearing Devonport.”

  “Why haven’t we s
een more military personnel?”

  “You’ve got hundreds of thousands of people spread across this place and a fairly small number of enlisted military personnel, compared to what’s on the mainland,” Mac said. “Getting soldiers into more remote pockets of the state was always going to be difficult.”

  “You think they’ll send more from the mainland?”

  Mac thought about it. “Depends on how bad it is over there.”

  Soon, they approached the intersection of the Bass Highway, where, on the right corner, sat the Mersey Community Hospital. The stench was overwhelming, and he pushed the button to close the window. Hordes of the infected wandered about the smoky ruins. Mac glanced at it, pushing away thoughts of Jessica and her fate. He started to turn the wheel left, when Smitty began shouting.

  “Straight, go straight!”

  Mac corrected the wheel and went through the roundabout, glancing left down the Bass Highway as he passed. A throng of infected were spread over the road, investigating a car that had slammed into a telephone pole and a small truck that had overturned onto its side.

  “Hands over your ears, kids,” Dutch said. Tyler and Ashleigh slapped their hands over their ears. Dutch leant out the window with the M4 and took aim. The gun roared twice. The heads of several infected exploded and they collapsed onto the blacktop.

  “Stop!” Mac shouted. Dutch pulled the shotgun inside the car and glared at Mac as though he had disrespected a member of his family. “Save it for later, Dutch. You’ll get your chance.” With a stiff expression, Dutch sat back and rested the gun across his lap.

  They crossed into Moriarty Road and through a busy section of Latrobe. They saw more infected, and they seemed to be in smaller groups, wandering along the curb, spread along the edges of the road, and in the front yards of properties. Mac wondered why they were in some and not others. A thought struck him—what if there were people inside and the infected were waiting for them? It was a grim but distinct possibility.