The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown

by Owen Baillie

  They walked on towards the school gates.

  38

  “We should be covering up,” Dan said, standing in the hallway that led from the staff room to the lost property. “It’s like the golden rule of fighting these things.”

  Jim frowned. “You’re not fighting them, Dan. You’re just going to divert their attention so I can get the generator and fridge out of my car.”

  Dan held out both hands, palms up, and shrugged. “So? That’s what everyone says.” He disappeared down the hallway towards the lost property area. Kumiko followed. In a room with a LOST PROPERTY sign over the door, Dan stood over a pile of old clothes. “Nothing big enough for us. They’re all little kid clothes.”

  Back in the staff room, Jim explained the plan. “I’m thinking out loud here so jump in if you see any holes. The plan is pretty simple—lure the infected away from my car so it gives me time to remove the generator and fridge.”

  “Can you handle it on your own?” Dan asked, playing with the sleeve of the jacket.

  “I got it in, but it was a struggle, and I didn’t have to carry it far.”

  Kumiko knew where this was going. “Why don’t you help Jim? I can distract—”

  “No,” Dan snapped. His jaw was tight. He caught Jim’s eye. “Sorry. That’s not an option.”

  “It’s fine,” Jim said. “I can do the generator alone.”

  “Is there any other way?” Kumiko asked. “Could we wait?”

  “Power’s off.” Dan made a face. “If we don’t get it back on soon, the food will defrost and we’ll lose it all.” Dan ran a hand through his thick hair. “I know it cuts in and out, but we can’t take that risk. At any time, it might be off forever, and we will lose everything.”

  Jim said, “If this place is to be the refuge it needs to be, we need power ongoing. You two distract them; I’ll get the generator.”

  Dan and Kumiko did a sweep of the administration building windows, checking the location of the infected to ensure they wouldn’t be ambushed. Most were congregated in the back section of the school grounds, where Dan and Kumiko had entered two nights ago. But they couldn’t see all the school grounds, and Kumiko sensed that made Dan uneasy.

  “This is still the best way, right?” Kumiko asked as they walked down the hallway towards the junior school classrooms.

  “I hate going out there, but we can’t wait any longer. If we get overwhelmed, just run.” Now he sensed her uncertainty. He stopped, took her hands in his, squeezing gently. “We’ll be fine, all right?” Kumiko gave a slight nod. “Jim needs to get to his car. The infected are hanging around it. If we divert their attention, it should draw them away and give him a chance.”

  There was a light heat in her hands. She was particularly conscious of his skin on hers. It felt nice. She tried to ask a question, but lost the words. There was a moment—not a long one, but enough to know there was more to it. Dan raised his eyebrows. She cleared her throat. “And what about us?”

  He released her hands. She was almost sorry. He stepped away and opened the door to the classroom. “We stay close to the building. Draw the infected away, then get back inside.”

  Kumiko smiled nervously. “Sounds easy.” Dan smiled back, but there wasn’t a lot of confidence in it either.

  He led her through the door into the junior school classroom, where posters, pictures, and big letters of the alphabet covered the walls in an array of bright colors. The smell of chalk and paint was strong, and all the chairs had been turned upside down on the tables.

  Dan reached the outside door and twisted the small, gold lock. He opened it and led Kumiko out into the light, though it was darker now; the build up of storm clouds concealed the sun, making it seem later in the day.

  “It’ll rain soon,” Dan said. As if agreeing, thunder rumbled low in the distance. He insisted they swap weapons. Kumiko took the shotgun, he the machete. “It’s one shell at a time. If you have to fire it, you’re gonna need to reload.”

  Kumiko tightened her hands around the weapon as they walked cautiously down the slope, until they were about twenty yards from the building. It offered them clear visibility of the football field and the upper school playground, but a huge garden bed full of trees and dense foliage blocked most of their view of Jim’s car outside the staffroom. Kumiko wondered if some of the infected might not be hiding amongst it. She saw them poking around Jim’s car.

  “You stay there,” Dan said, walking on. He stopped about fifteen yards away, stuck his index finger and thumb into his mouth, and let out a loud, shrill whistle. “Over here! Come on. This way.”

  Several heads turned. One of the infected started shuffling towards them in a slow, clumsy walk. The aim had been to get them all to leave together, but that didn’t seem to be happening.

  “Aren’t we supposed to go inside?”

  “They haven’t all left yet.”

  Dan stood waiting, making a couple of practice swishes with the blade pointed down. By the time the first one reached him, several more had left Jim’s car; two went up towards the garden full of trees, while two more stayed low. The infected thing staggered towards Dan, making a noise and as though it had a chunk of flesh stuck in its throat. Dan stepped forward, propped himself, and swung the machete. It sliced a wound across the man’s face, but did not stop him. Dan danced backwards, then went again, slicing the base of its neck open like a giant mouth. Blood splashed down the front of its grimy, AC/DC T-shirt. It fell forward to its knees and collapsed face first into the dirt. It tried to stand up as blood pooled in the dirt, but Dan squatted low and jammed the knife into the back of its head. Then he jumped to his feet and waited for the next one, unperturbed.

  He had changed in only a couple of days from a naïve, fun-loving zombie fan, to a man who took the world a lot more seriously.

  Two more infected had almost reached Dan, and now the coppery smell of blood was drawing others away. All of them had left Jim’s white Ford Territory and were headed in their direction.

  “Get in there, Jim.” Dan edged closer in anticipation. “Gonna get busy in a moment.”

  “Move back,” Kumiko shouted. “You’re getting too close. We can go inside now.” She took several steps forward “They’ve all—” On her left, the two infected that had disappeared into the trees appeared—a woman and a man. Kumiko started moving backwards. Footsteps sounded and she turned to find a line shuffling down the slope from the other side of the administration building. In a few moments, their passage back inside would be cut off. “Dan! We have to go!”

  Dan turned. “Oh, fuck.” Kumiko read fear in his wide eyes and open mouth. “You’re gonna have to shoot them.”

  That was it. Their path was cut off. They were coming down the slope faster than she anticipated. Kumiko lifted the gun as the closest infected drew within five feet. She took aim, lining up the thing’s pasty face in the sight, and pulled the trigger. The gun gave a deafening crack, rolling across the field. It bucked in her hands, lifting her off her feet, and she fell back onto her ass in surprise. The shot struck a woman in the shoulder, and she spun before falling sideways. Kumiko scrambled to her feet and pulled a second shell from her pocket. She adjusted her aim right and tightened her grip on the gun. BOOM. It kicked again, but this time she managed to hold on. An infected man took the hit in his face. It opened up a big hole where his nose was, and he fell back onto the grass.

  Kumiko snapped the shotgun open, fumbled another shell out, and slid it into the chamber. As Kumiko snapped it shut, the woman she had shot in the shoulder climbed to her feet. Kumiko stepped over to her and aimed the gun from close range, then pulled the trigger. The woman’s head exploded like a grapefruit.

  “Move back,” Dan said, running towards her. Beyond him, the remaining infected from Jim’s car made their way the final ten yards along the slope.

  Kumiko faced the classroom door. No chance they would make it now. There were too many coming from down the slope. They would have to run, but she wa
s ready for that, full of adrenaline, their lives on the line.

  She started with six shells and had used three. She loaded another, then backpedaled and fired again. This time she was further away and the shot missed everything. Two more.

  Dan reached her, panting. “Come on.” They turned around and ran away from the building towards the playground. It felt wrong to be running the other way, but the number of infected walking down from behind the admin building made it impossible to reach the door. It reminded her of a crowd leaving an Aussie Rules football match at the end of the game. Kumiko felt her heart strike cold with fear.

  “We’re fucked,” Dan said, panic in his voice.

  But Kumiko wasn’t giving up yet. “Not yet. No way.” All the escape routes back to the office building had been blocked. She made a quick assessment from several poor options and decided to keep running to the gymnasium. She took off. “This way.”

  It was a large, square brick building perched against the edge of the school property. They ran, holding their weapons at the ready, Kumiko glancing over her shoulder to check the progress of the infected, who were slow to respond.

  Gravel crunched under their feet as they ran beside the gymnasium. A high fence on the right led to bushland, where dozens more hungry infected stood waiting, negating their chance to use it as an escape. They reached the back of the gym where a smaller, empty parking lot sat. Beyond, another tall gate, like the entrance at the other end of the site, sat locked. Kumiko stopped, breathing harder, searching for a place to hide. There was nothing. She waved Dan on and ran parallel to the building, adrenaline pulsing through her. Above them, more thunder rumbled.

  Another fence running at right angles forced them to turn left. Four portable classrooms, used for temporary relocation while other buildings were redeveloped, lay ahead. Dan stopped at one and peered in through the glass door. He tried the handle but it was locked. Kumiko ran to the next one and did the same, but the result was identical.

  “Running out of options,” Dan said between breaths. He stood with his hands on his hips, the skin around his beard flushed. “Haven’t been to the gym in a long time.”

  The creepy sounds of the hungry pack drifted to them. “We don’t stop. Keep going.”

  As they took off, several infected appeared around the corner, their bloody grins and groping hands calling for flesh. Kumiko led Dan around the other side of the building. On their left were two basketball courts, and beyond, the football field. But there were infected everywhere, blocking their route in every direction. Kumiko had developed the beginning of a stich in her side, and she was breathing much harder now. Dan was panting, his face a grim expression. She was about to concede they were out of options when a narrow gap opened up.

  “The playground!” She guided Dan in that direction, zombies all around them.

  He ran towards the large timber structure, leapt up a set of wooden slats, and used a chain to pull himself up onto a platform about head-height off the ground. It was the only section of the playground not yet crowded by the infected.

  Kumiko tossed the shotgun up to him, then placed her foot between the wooden climbing boards and took the chain in her hands. Stretching out her arms, she pulled, feeling the muscles in her back tense.

  She made it three steps before she started to lose her grip. Dan reached out for her.

  “Give me your hand!”

  But her fingers slipped off the chain and she swung wide, her foot twisting as it became stuck between the grooves of the climbing wall. With her weight on one hand, Kumiko couldn’t hold on. The chain slipped free. She fell back and landed on the bark below.

  39

  Jim waited until, one by one, the infected began to leave his car. He watched them wander towards Dan and Kumiko in their sickly distorted walk, jerking and blabbering. Jim thought if he ever turned into one of them and he had any element of sanity, he’d kill himself first.

  He opened the door and walked quickly down the steps and onto the gravel path, scanning the lot to make sure none remained. The generator was first objective, then he’d worry about the fridge. In his right hand was the spear he’d used at home, in his left the car keys. The spear was starting to feel like his weapon. He felt a little better after the garage incident and getting in the entrance to the school. He was kidding himself that luck hadn’t played a part, but he felt more confident of handling himself in a tight situation.

  Reaching the vehicle, Jim put the spear down and pressed the button on the remote, unlocking the doors and trunk. He slipped the keys into his pocket, pressed the trunk button and lifted the lid. The generator looked imposing, heavy, and he wondered again if he shouldn’t have used Dan’s help.

  A crack of thunder sounded in a southerly direction. As he took a moment to consider the best approach, Jim spotted a lone infected person shambling down the slope from the rear side of the school. It was heading in his direction. He cursed, knowing he would have to deal with it before removing the generator. There was no other way.

  He let go of the trunk lid, scooped up the spear and prepared himself as the thing stumbled the final few yards towards him. It was a man wearing a ripped white business shirt, with dark silky hair and lesions on his face. His lips and eyes were blistered, the latter a deep red, bulging and rimmed with purple bruises. He imagined this man had attacked Steph and Lily, putting its grimy hands around their small throats, and with that, Jim raised the weapon and ran at it, throwing his weight behind the attack. He thrust the spear at the side of the man’s head, as its grimy hands reached out for Jim’s shirt. The tip of the spear broke the skin and dug deep through the hard flesh in front of the ear. It made a squishing noise, and Jim watched the infected man’s eyes roll back as blood seeped from the wound and down the side of the man’s face. He lowered him to the ground, trying to make the kill as inconspicuous as possible. It was easier, he thought, when you’re angry. Much easier. He withdrew the spear with a wet squeeze, wiped it on the side of his pants, and placed it on the ground beside the car.

  Reaching into the back of the vehicle, Jim got his hands underneath the generator’s steel casing. With his upper body, he lifted the end slightly and dragged it backwards. Pain flashed through his lower back. He stopped, back stiff, worried if he moved any more, he’d suffer a back injury. But there was no time. He inched backwards, dragging the generator to the end of the lip of the compartment. He drew it slightly over the edge, then tried to get a better grip to lift it onto the ground in one motion. Fresh pain shot through his lower back again. Jim didn’t know how he was going to get it inside.

  Movement caught his eye. He saw them coming towards him through the side windows, a mob of infected lumbering along the gravel from the same direction as the one he’d killed. They would be on him in twenty seconds. In the distance, he heard a female scream. Kumiko. She was in trouble. What did he do? Ten seconds. Think, Jim.

  40

  It might be the end, Juliet thought as Ponytail’s rough hands marched her along with Jessica, Meg, and Bill towards a large steel vault standing alone near the back of the complex. Around them, red-brick buildings—perhaps warehouses, or an old manufacturing facility—stood tall and menacing.

  “Are you happy now, you stupid bitch?” Jessica said, shrugging her captor off. The man holding her hands shoved again, and Jessica stumbled. Meg, at whom the question was directed, turned her head the other way and stayed silent. “You insisted Juliet follow these assholes into this place.” Meg burst into tears. Jessica cursed under her breath, twisting her mouth in disgust, and turned the other way.

  Juliet waited to catch Jessica’s gaze, frowned, and shook her head. There was no use condemning Meg for their bad luck. She was driving the car and any of them could have demanded she not follow the truck and she probably would have still done it. At that point, they had no other options.

  Bill trudged along last, guided by the man with the receding hairline. This man wore a watchful expression, as opposed to the other men,
who were grinning and muttering jokes, searching for the best opportunity to inflict harm.

  The vault’s heavy gate creaked open, revealing a gloomy, spacious cavern filled with arrows of light speared through many small holes. The man holding Juliet shoved her, and she went stumbling, just managing to stay on her feet. It was stuffy, warm. Meg followed, and then Jess was pushed hard to the ground, striking her knee. Bill shuffled forward and helped her up. One of the men swung a foot at him, but his agility surprised Juliet, and he avoided the boot. The man laughed, then turned away as the others, except the one who’d supervised, started back. He stepped into the doorway and caught Juliet’s eyes.

  When they were out of earshot, he spoke in a clear, low voice. “Don’t talk back and just do what they say. Most importantly, give them what they want.”

  At first, nobody spoke. Then Jessica said, “What do they want?”

  The man glanced around at the others. “Your supplies, first.”

  “We—” Jessica started.

  “Don’t,” the man said, putting up a hand. He glanced back. The men were further away now. “Don’t fight it. I’ve seen them do nasty things to those who have.”

  “Why are you telling us this?”

  Someone called out. The man put a hand on the door. “Just do as I say, please.” The gate squeaked shut.

  Juliet stuck a hand out and stopped it. “What’s your name?” Juliet asked.

  He hesitated, and then said, “Sam.” Then he was gone.

  Meg was still crying. From the shadows, something moved, and a soft voice said, “They got you too.” Bill stepped in front of Juliet. “It’s all right. I won’t hurt you.”

  A woman. She sounded young, but not afraid. Juliet said, “Come out into the light.”

  She did, stepping forward until they saw strips of her face in the circular holes of light. Her skin was dirty, her matted hair long and golden. “I’m Lory.”