The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown

by Owen Baillie

  She was thin and, with her high cheekbones and lovely blue eyes, should have been wearing a prom dress. It was difficult to read her face due to the lack of light. A voice told Juliet to be wary, despite her apparent incarceration. “I’m Juliet.” She pointed to the others. “This is Jess, Meg, and Bill.” Lory gave a small wave. “How long have you been in here?”

  “Two days.”

  “Why are they doing this?”

  Lory peered at her feet. “Honestly, I’d say for fun.”

  Juliet’s stomach tightened. “Fun?”

  “I’ve been let out a few times. I had to …” Her voice drifted.

  Jessica put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have say anything.”

  “I’m not thinking about it.” She brightened up and made a strange, almost happy face. “I’m trying to work out a plan to escape.”

  “What about Sam?” Meg asked. “He said to do what they say.”

  Lory wiped the tears with the back of her hand then blew out air. “Sam? He hasn’t done anything to stop them.”

  From the yard outside the vault, voices floated to them. Laughing and shouting, followed by three gunshots. Bill went to the wall and peered through the holes.

  Jessica lowered herself down and sat against the wall. “Do they let you out of here at all?”

  “Every six hours or so, I guess. I get to pee and walk around the yard for a bit.”

  “Any supervision?”

  “A couple of men with guns.”

  Meg said, “What’s your plan to escape?” When Lory said nothing, Meg sighed. “So no plans yet.”

  Lory shook her head.

  “What about food?” Juliet asked.

  “Bread and water in the morning.”

  “Any idea what they’re going to do with you?”

  “No. They haven’t spoken to me at all. Just caught me and put me in here.” She began to sob. Juliet pulled her close and put an arm around her.

  “Tell us what happened.”

  There had been three of them—her brother, Murray, his friend, Cameron, and herself. They’d been travelling through Devonport in an early model Commodore sedan, searching for their cousins who were staying in the city, when they became stuck. The car had broken down—something about a fuel pump that had been playing up for weeks—and none of them had any idea how to get it going again. The men appeared and offered the services of two mechanics back at their safe house. Initially, Lory hadn’t wanted to go, but both the boys were keen. The moment they closed the gates, the man with the ponytail shot the boys and Lory was thrown straight into the vault. The sobs turned into real tears. Juliet took her in her arms and hugged her tight.

  A long silence followed. They sat with their backs to the wall, except Bill, who continued to peer out through the holes. Juliet wasn’t aware how sore her legs were until she got off them. As she sat contemplating their circumstances, they began to ache. How long since she’d rested? Since she’d slept properly? Time had twisted into incoherence. The world had been sucked into a maelstrom from which they might never escape. It was all too much, even for her optimistic personality.

  Eventually, Bill turned away from the wall with only the slightest limp, and lowered himself into a squat. It reminded Juliet of her father, who’d been able to hunker down like that for hours, apparently a result of his days in the army.

  “How’s your back?”

  He grunted. “I’ve copped worse.”

  “Ankle?”

  “Surprisingly, it feels much better.”

  “What do you think is going on?”

  He thought about it for so long, Juliet didn’t think he was going to answer. “I’ve seen men like this before. The only strength they have is in numbers. They’ll exploit everyone and everything while that continues. They’re opportunistic, and for some, opportunity is everywhere in the world at this moment. If the government can’t get control, and this thing doesn’t blow over soon, there’s every chance their greed and misdirected loyalty will continue until they end up turning on themselves.”

  “How long might that take?”

  “Months. Years.”

  “What about us?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “While we have a purpose, they’ll probably keep us alive.”

  “We’ve certainly got our purpose,” Meg said. “I wonder how long before the rape starts.”

  Juliet ground her jaw. She wanted to tell Meg to keep her mouth shut unless she had something constructive to say.

  “Just shut up,” Jessica said. “Unless you’ve got something constructive to say.”

  Juliet suppressed a smile. Meg sunk back against the wall. “Well, we can only assume what our purpose might be, but what about yours?”

  “I know how to stay alive, if that’s what you mean. After what happened earlier, they’ll ask for my help as a bit of muscle. If I wanna stay alive, I’ll have to give ’em that.”

  “What about Sam? What’s your take on him? He seems half decent.”

  “He spoke to me as we were brought here,” Bill said. “Told me who was who in the hierarchy—who to be careful of.”

  “So, he’s on our side?”

  “Maybe. It’s too early to tell. Might be a trick—the old good cop, bad cop thing.”

  “What do we do then?”

  “Sit tight. Play by their rules for now. Stay alive.”

  “I’m not dying in this shit hole,” Juliet said.

  “You won’t,” Bill said, standing. “I’ll get you all out of here alive if it’s the last thing I do.”

  41

  The thunder rocked and rumbled as it drew closer. Jim had the generator halfway out of the SUV’s rear compartment. The jabbering infected had almost reached him, their scuffling shoes on the gravel path disclosing their proximity. If he dropped it, the thing would tumble off the end of the car and possibly be damaged. He couldn’t allow that. He slid it back into the compartment until it was resting safely inside. Pain flashed through his lower back again, but he straightened up, sucked in a breath, and turned to face them.

  Another day, another bunch of monsters to fight, Jim thought. An infected girl of about eighteen with long, silky dark hair and limited clothing knocked into his chest, snapping at his shoulder. He shoved it away, giving himself him space, but the others were imminent, their salivating sounds loud and terrifying. Another groped for him. He overbalanced in the tight space and went down, striking the ball of his knee hard on the concrete. Pain shot through his leg. He spied the spear near the other wheel and crawled forward on his knees, wincing at the pain. He was almost there when the girl stood on his hand, his fingers screaming under her weight.

  Groaning, Jim shoved her leg and snatched his hand away, then rolled to his left, and pulled himself to his feet. Looking directly towards the office building, cold fear spread over him as more infected walked in his direction. He felt a sudden certainty that he was going to die, that he couldn’t possibly stop them all. Then more from the first lot were on him, floundering for his skin. He elbowed the closest one aside and bent for the spear.

  Something tightened around his calf muscle, causing him to overbalance. With immense focus, somehow, he stayed on his feet. He twisted around and punched the thing in the face. Screaming, he lunged for the spear, and surprisingly, got his fingertips on it, expecting at any moment to feel teeth sink into one of his legs. He got his hand around the shaft and rolled over, bringing the weapon into position. He came face to face with dark, bulging eyes and a mouth with most of the flesh torn away. It reached forward to chew his face off; Jim held it at bay with his left hand and drove the tip of the spear through its cheek. The eyes froze wide and it shuddered as if electrocuted. Jim turned away. Blood came out in a gush, spurting over his chest and down his arm. He yanked the spear out and pushed the thing off as another one fell on him. Jim swung the spear again and grazed the side of its face. It made a slobbery, throaty sound and wrapped its hands around his neck, closing his windpipe. He c
ouldn’t breathe. He tried to pry its fingers off, but they were like steel pegs. He adjusted his right hand on the spear then grabbed the thing’s hair with his left hand and pulled its head lower. He thrust the spear at its left ear and drove the shaft deep into its brain. The infected man hung there for a moment, then collapsed forward. Using his last ounce of strength, Jim rolled it aside.

  He couldn’t stand; his legs wouldn’t move. There was nothing left in him. A cloud of pain and fatigue enveloped him. He had never felt anything like it before. The easiest thing would be to lie there and let them take him, end it all now. He heard their footfalls—they were close, and he had no time or energy to fight back.

  As he lay there, contemplating death, Jim spied an easier way out, though it would require all his remaining effort. He crawled forward, dragging his body over the rough surface with his elbows, towards the underside of the car. Keep going. His back rubbed on the dirty undercarriage. Hands struck his lower legs. They fell on their knees, groping for him, but he slithered the last little bit out of their reach until his entire body was beneath car’s chassis. On all fours, they slapped and groped at the edges of the undercarriage but couldn’t reach him.

  He was safe for now.

  Jim lay there breathing hard, unable to believe he was still alive. The moments spun and twisted through his mind. He had survived solely on instinct and luck.

  Suddenly the infected moved away from the car. Their groping hands retracted and they drew themselves up off the ground, clearing his way to leave. But something else moved in. Jim spotted a pair of boots crossing the car park towards them. The movement was too controlled to be one of them. Too—

  And then it hit him. He knew the owner of those boots; Jim had seen him the night he had saved Dan and Kumiko. It went to the rear of the car. Jim rotated himself. The thing dropped to one knee, its twisted expression filled with intelligence. Its black, sunken eyes glared at him, and it gave a low growl, chilling Jim’s skin.

  It took hold of his foot and began to drag Jim out.

  42

  Dan leapt down off the playground and landed beside Kumiko with dizzying speed. He squatted beside her. “Your foot is caught.”

  Kumiko tried to lift her leg and pain flashed through her left arch. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, shit that hurts.”

  Dan stood, pulling her up with him, and trying to extract her jammed sneaker. Kumiko tried to turn and see what was happening, but he was supporting her in a way that sheltered her from the view.

  “Hurry!”

  “I’m trying!”

  Dan jerked her upwards and the pressure on her foot disappeared. It slipped out from between the boards of the playground’s climbing wall and they staggered backwards. An infected crashed into Dan’s back. He grunted and knocked Kumiko onto the soft bark again. Dan tumbled forward into a heap.

  “Up!” Dan yelled, scrambling to his feet.

  Kumiko pushed onto one knee as the infected rushed at them. With their hissing voices and hideous, bulging eyes, they came at her, groping, clawing, desperate for her flesh. She read the hunger in their eyes and knew it was seconds between life and death.

  Dizziness washed over her. She tried to stand, but her jelly legs betrayed her. Dan yanked her by the arm and she cried out, but it did the trick. He shoved her towards the wooden climbing wall that led to the small platform that might save their lives.

  “CLIMB FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

  She wanted to vomit. She held it down though, lifted her leg, and stuck her throbbing foot into a third-level slat. She stretched for one of the bars but her hand fell short. She felt Dan’s hands cup her ass, and he propelled her up the climbing wall. She leapt onto the platform and locked her fingers around the railing, swaying as she caught sight of the endless infected around the base of the playground. Dan lobbed the machete up to her. It clattered onto the wooden platform. Kumiko bent down and picked it up as Dan took hold of the chain and began to pull himself up the wall.

  Their leering, gruesome faces were all around him, tugging the pockets of his jacket and groping for his thick, reddish hair. Hands clawed at his legs. He wasn’t climbing; he was swinging his fists and kicking his legs to fend them off. Kumiko stood frozen, waiting for him to move, but after several seconds, she realized he couldn’t.

  She lay the machete down and snatched up the rifle. She picked out the closest infected without risking Dan and fired. The kick knocked her back, but the shot struck the infected man in the neck and knocked him to the soft ground. She snatched the last shell from her pocket and loaded it, then turned to the other side of Dan, got down on her knees, and chose another attacker. The shotgun boomed and the woman went sprawling with a messy hole in her face. Others fell on her and began feeding.

  Kumiko dropped the shotgun and stuck her hand out as far as it would go. Dan tried to grab hold but the distance was too great. A long, red-stained arm curled around Dan’s neck, choking him. His eyes bulged, and the terror in his face was as stark as anything she had ever seen in her life. Tears came to her eyes. He was on the fringe of death, hovering over the fires of Hell. He began to slide down the chain. She grabbed the machete, leant over the edge of the platform, and swiped at the closest infected. The long blade dug deep into a pale, bony shoulder. The thing turned almost irritably, and she cut a long gash across its face. It fell away and two of its brothers dove onto it. She did the same thing again, and this time three of the infected dropped off. Dan broke free and started to climb, but another infected latched onto his left leg, halting his progress halfway up the wall. His strained face looked beaten. He was holding on but couldn’t climb any higher, and Kumiko knew it was only a matter of moments before one of the infected bit him.

  43

  Within an hour of their captors leaving the group in the vault, the questions and general discussion had died down to the occasional word. Each member found a place on the dirty metal floor—except Bill, who stood by the exterior, looking out through the small holes—and had fallen into their own thoughts. Juliet sat with her head resting back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. She listened to the distant sounds outside the vault: voices rising to shouts, gunshots, followed by the rumble of motorbikes disappearing into the distance. The thought of what might happen to them twisted her stomach in knots, not only concern for her safety, but that of the others, too. Even Meg, who had a way of consistently saying the wrong thing and upsetting one of them. The woman had not spoken since Jessica had cast blame at her for their capture. Juliet considered it a harsh judgment. They had all had the chance to demand Juliet turn back.

  When the door opened with a squeal, Juliet jumped. A man stepped through the doorway, and although his features were cast in shadow, she recognized from the outline it was Sam.

  “Quickly,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “We have to go.”

  “Where?” Jessica asked, springing to her feet. The open door cast half her body in sunlight, the other in shadow.

  “Out of here,” Sam said, as if they should know. “Out of here.”

  Meg stepped forward, her reluctance to speak disappearing. “Hang on. The last decision we made was the wrong one. How do we know this isn’t the same?”

  “I’m kind of with her on this,” Juliet said. “We don’t want to piss these guys off.”

  Sam snatched a glance back through the door. “Listen, we don’t have time for a committee meeting. Some of the key people have left to go raiding. Now’s our chance.”

  “Our chance?” Jessica asked.

  “Yeah. I’m leaving too. These people are fucking crazy. I only hooked up with them because I was desperate.”

  Juliet stepped towards the doorway. “What are our chances of escape?”

  Sam held his hand out flat and tipped it both ways, indicating the odds were fifty-fifty. “But if we don’t hurry, those odds will drop against us very quickly.”

  Juliet glanced at Jessica and Meg, who were both looking back at her. Stepping out from behin
d Meg, Lory said, “Why didn’t you help me escape?”

  Sam hesitated. “I … guess I didn’t think we had as good a shot as we do now with more of us.”

  “You let them … do things to me,” Lory said.

  Sam’s face bunched into one of pain. Stiff fingers massaged his forehead. “I’m sorry. I regret not doing more. I can’t imagine what you went through.” Lory’s lips remained pursed. She wasn’t going to forgive so easily.

  Bill appeared out of the shadows. “If you’re messing us around, mate, I’ll take you apart, understand?” Sam’s expression softened, but he nodded.

  Juliet peered around at everyone. “We’re all happy to go?” Jessica was, so too Bill and Lory. Meg stood stony faced in brief light. “Meg?” She gestured agreement. Juliet turned to Sam and with a sigh, said, “Lead the way.”

  Outside, the sky had begun to cloud over. The faint rumble of thunder told them a storm might be in the cards.

  Sam led them away from the vault along a dusty road, between a slew of junk cars and rusted, paint-chipped machinery. They worked their way around the back of a long brick building. It smelt of heat, dirt, and rusted metal. A broken concrete pathway ran parallel to the building, and a pile of old fence palings lay nearby. Sam warned them to watch their footing as he stepped over a black piping as thick as a python. It appeared from the wall and disappeared into long grass. He stopped at the end of the building and peered around the corner. The others pulled up behind him. Bill was limping.

  “What about our car?” Meg asked, breathing hard.

  “Your car?” Sam asked, glancing at Juliet. “I don’t think there’s any chance we’ll be able to get that back.”

  “But what will we do when we get out of here? There’s infected people everywhere.”

  In the distance, their pursuit was announced by the sound of voices and barking dogs. Shouting followed, then a single gunshot.

  “You think they know?” Juliet asked Sam.