The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown

by Owen Baillie

  “If they don’t yet, it won’t be long.”

  Sam stepped out from behind the building, onto another dirt road. The intersection went left, right, or straight ahead. Sam headed straight. High grass and tangled weeds grew taller on both sides of the road. The ground was flat here, running all the way to a chain wire fence in the distance. They were approaching the back of the property, and beyond, were more fields, but no roads in sight.

  They jogged on, feet crunching on the gravel. Juliet dared think they might just make it. She glanced over her shoulder for movement but found only tall grass and slender trees moving gently in the soft breeze. Don’t get cocky. The dogs were still barking.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Meg said. She began to falter, her feet skidding over the gravel.

  Juliet wanted to tell Meg to shut up. She glanced at Jessica, who was facing her own battle. She’d only just recovered from a bout of the flu. And Bill was last. He was just keeping up, the slight limp more pronounced. Juliet wondered what would become of his ankle after this. She put a hand on Jessica’s arm. “You okay?” Jessica nodded, but her faced was flushed and she was panting heavily.

  “Just a little further,” Sam said, slowing down to run beside Meg. “See the fence?” Meg glanced up. “Once we reach that and climb over, we’re safe. They won’t be able to chase us through the fields. They’ll need to go back for their vehicles and try to cut us off on the road.”

  Sam ran backwards for a time, looking out for signs that anybody was chasing them. They had about thirty yards to go for the fence, with a row of spindly trees between them.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Sam said. Simultaneously, more voices sounded behind them, this time perceptibly closer. Meg let out a shriek. Juliet tried to move faster.

  They ran with the sound of labored breathing, their feet scraping over the dirt road, and then whoops and calls of the men chasing behind them.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Sam said.

  Jessica snapped around. “What?”

  “I told you,” Meg cried out. “He’s done this just to—”

  “Shut up, would you?” Sam said. He turned back to Juliet and glanced at Bill, who had somehow managed to keep up. “There’s no foul play here. I took the chance. Believe me, I’m going to get in deep shit for this.”

  “What about us?” Juliet asked. “What’s going to happen?”

  “The best I can think of is that one of you makes a run for it,” Sam said, rubbing a hand hard over his balding scalp. Juliet read the desperation in him. “We can make it seem like I found you all escaping and tried to talk you into coming back.” He glanced at Bill. “Bill and I fight, he strikes me and climbs over the fence. That’s the only plausible way of getting one of you out of here that I can think of right now.”

  “I don’t want to go back there,” Lory said. She slowed to a walk, tugging nervously at the end of her long, golden ponytail.

  “I’m not leaving anyone,” Bill said.

  But as Juliet considered the idea, she knew immediately it was their best bet. It was unlikely any of the women could overpower Sam—none of their captors would believe it anyway, and who knew what they would do to Sam if that happened. Bill, on the other hand, was a big, strong man who had already shown his mettle.

  They passed through the trees, which afforded them a little privacy, and approached the fence. It was about six feet tall, made of crisscrossing wire in a diamond pattern.

  “He’s right,” Juliet said to Bill. “You have to go.”

  “Where? To who?”

  “The police. Or the Army. Go to Mole Creek, they have an army base there.”

  “Mole Creek?” Bill grunted. He examined the fence, probably ascertaining whether he was capable of climbing it, and the field beyond. Then he looked at each of them in turn. “I can’t. What if—”

  “She’s right,” Jessica said, stepping forward. “You’re our best chance.”

  The voices grew closer. Dogs barked, someone screamed the words: GET THOSE FUCKERS. Meg broke down.

  “You’ve got about ten seconds to decide,” Sam said.

  The day had darkened considerably with the inbound clouds. Thunder sounded again, closer this time, making them all glance up at the sky.

  “All right. All right.” Bill glanced around at the girls. “I’m sorry.”

  “Mole Creek,” Jessica said. “My husband’s name is Shane McNamara. He was a Commando. He might have gone there. He’ll know what to do.”

  Bill stared at the fence, as if reconsidering. “You’re going to have to hit me,” Sam said. “Make it look like I tried to stop you, but you fought me off.”

  Bill gave a short, uncertain nod. Sam pulled closer to him and grabbed the neck of his shirt between both fists. Bill shoved him away.

  “You’ll need to actually punch me in the face.” When Bill hesitated, Sam said, “It’s okay.”

  But Bill only stood there. The voices were much louder now. Juliet guessed the men were near the building behind the crossroad. “Just imagine I’m lying to you all,” Sam added. “I’ve tricked you into leaving so the ladies are alone and helpless.” He smirked.

  Bill’s fist rose and clipped Sam on the jaw. His head jerked back a little, and his foot faltered.

  “Again,” Sam said. “Each of these women is going to end up with—”

  An upper cut struck Sam in the nose. It was probably only half strength at best, but his head rocked back and his left leg buckled. He went down onto one knee.

  “Much better,” he groaned, eyes closed, fingers holding his nose. “Now get over the fence.”

  Bill started off. “I’m sorry.”

  Sam waved him away.

  In the distance, someone shouted, “THERE THEY ARE.”

  Sam leapt to his feet, blood trickling from his nose. “They’ve seen us,” he said quietly. “Make it seem like you’re trying to escape. Climb the fence!”

  Juliet caught on quickly and leapt for the wire. She understood that if the men didn’t find them in a position of escape, they wouldn’t believe what had happened. Bill hobbled after her. Sam feigned a desperate attempt to stop them as the others—Lory, Meg, and Jessica—all scattered towards the wire. In a moment, they were all fighting for space to climb. The fence protested and shook, bending backwards under their weight. Sam went for the smallest first, Lory, and yanked her off the fence. She shrieked. Sam tried not to let her drop, but she fell to the grass on her ass. Juliet made a poor attempt to climb; Jessica did the same. Sam was able to pull them away from the wire and get himself in between them, but he fell onto one knee. Arms hugging herself, Meg didn’t move. By then, Bill had reached the top. The men in pursuit were close now, calling out, screaming and swearing. A rifle shot cracked.

  “GET DOWN!” Juliet screamed as she dropped for the grass.

  Bill had no choice though; he had swung a thick leg over the other side and was attempting to get the second over. Another shot sounded, and this time it struck one of the metal fence poles with a tink sound.

  Don’t jump, Bill, Juliet thought. If he did, he wouldn’t make it fifty yards with his injured ankle. He didn’t, instead lowering himself with cautious footholds down the wire mesh. All the women stood at the fence watching him, Sam making out as though to stop them. Bill dropped the last few feet and stood on the other side of the fence, facing them. The tiny patches of cheeks where he didn’t have beard were red and he was blowing air.

  Juliet glanced back and saw the men were thirty yards away. There were four of them, big and dirty and mean, with two dogs pulling on their leashes.

  Bill grabbed the wire and pulled his face close, looking from Jessica, to Juliet, and finally Meg. “None of my friends call me Bill. It’s Skoota. Call me Skoota from now on.”

  Juliet smiled, feeling her lower lip tremble.

  “I’ll come back, I promise.” There was a determination in his expression that gave Juliet hope.

  Jessica spoke, but a crack of thun
der silenced her. Skoota shook his head. “Mole Creek Army Base!” Jessica shouted. “Shane McNamara.”

  Skoota started moving away from the fence through the knee-high grass, limping slightly. After a minute or so, he disappeared behind a small batch of trees and didn’t look back.

  44

  “Any way around that tanker?” Mac said, glancing back at the disabled fuel truck as they approached the school entrance.

  “Only if you’ve got a machine to push it out the way,” Smitty said.

  Mac paused, searching for a way around the big fuel truck. He suspected it had been travelling too fast and tipped coming over the hill from a northerly direction. It had left a small gap between its cab and the school fence, but a two-foot deep gutter etched into the dirt stopped a vehicle from getting around. Mac wondered whether a big machine could push the tanker out of the way.

  They reached the double gates where three more bodies lay. All had been infected and were killed with a sharp instrument.

  “Someone’s been doing some handy work,” Smitty said.

  On the other side of the fence, the infected were spread across the site. Directly ahead, on the other side of the football field, a white Ford Territory sat parked outside the office building with a handful of infected gathered around it. The football field looked like a scene from a carnival, infected wandering towards the far left, where the bulk of them had congregated, near the playground area. It was chaos on an unprecedented scale.

  Mac said, “What have we got?”

  “Civilians at nine o’clock,” Smitty said.

  “And twelve,” Dutch said. “Under that white SUV parked near the building.”

  Mac narrowed his gaze. “Good eyes, Dutch. Smitty, what do you have?”

  “A female standing atop the playground equipment. Possibly something or someone down below mixed up in the pack of infected.”

  Lightning flashed in the clouds not far from the school. Mac counted silently. He reached two as the thunder cracked. “All right. You two take the playground, I’ll get the car.”

  They slipped over the six-foot wire fence without pause and jogged up the bank to the oval. Here, Mac started north, and the other two headed west towards the playground.

  “Good luck,” Mac said as they parted. Dutch and Smitty gave him a wave, and he watched them jog away, as he’d done so many times before.

  Mac hurried along the edge of the football field towards the white vehicle parked on the slope outside the office building. He stayed clear of the infected as they shuffled towards him, moving out of their reach or hurrying past. They didn’t have the agility to turn and follow him quickly enough. He could have shot them, but he had limited ammo and the noise would draw more. One tried to get cozy, and he used the butt of the shotgun to smash its face in.

  As he crossed the field and started up the gentle slope, Mac spotted the man Dutch had identified wriggling underneath the SUV. An infected stood at the trunk, trying to drag him out. He wasn’t like the others; its well-muscled upper body rippled as it squatted down and reached underneath for the man’s foot. It reminded Mac of the thing they’d witnessed at the bus crash.

  He stopped about thirty yards away. The infected man still hadn’t noticed him. Mac lifted the shotgun and took aim as the thing turned its head and spotted him. It released the other man’s leg and leapt around the side of the car as Mac fired. The shot struck its shoulder, and it disappeared behind the other side of the car.

  Mac ran forward, staring down the barrel of the shotgun. “Come out,” he signaled to the man beneath the SUV. He started to slide out on his belly. Mac hunched down and peered beneath the vehicle, searching for a sign of the infected.

  “Is it gone?” the man asked, climbing to his feet.

  “I don’t know,” Mac said. “Did it get you?”

  The man shook his head, examining himself. “No.”

  “What’s your name?” Mac stepped around the car, searching the space with the shotgun.

  “Jim. Jim Bennets.”

  “Jim, my name’s Mac—”

  It came from behind the back wheel, springing up at him in a blur. Jesus Christ it’s like lightning, Mac thought. He managed to swing the gun around and get a shot off, but it missed a vital spot and struck the thing in the upper arm. It screeched as it knocked the shotgun from Mac’s grip then thrust its hands out and struck Mac in the chest, knocking him backwards.

  Mac sailed through the air and landed on his back, expunging the air from his lungs. He scrunched his face at the pain and rolled over, urging himself to move. Scrambling to his feet, a boot connected with his ribs and he went down again, this time on his left knee. What the fuck was this thing? It had come from nowhere, like a mutant, steroid version of the infected. It grabbed a hunk of Mac’s short blonde hair and yanked his head back.

  From the corner of his eyes, he saw it staring down at him. It wasn’t that its eyes were sunk deep into its head, but they were jet black. It snarled, revealing teeth that appeared to be almost sharpened to a point in places. But it was the expression that surprised Mac; there was an intelligence behind it he hadn’t seen in these things before.

  In the distance, gunfire sounded, and the thing snapped its head around in that direction.

  Mac noticed movement from the corner of his eye. A shadow fell over them, and something struck the monster. It let go of Mac and collapsed to the ground. Mac rolled away, thinking about how he was going to snatch up the shotgun.

  As he spun, he saw it had Jim by the throat, holding him off the ground like a superhero might in an action movie.

  Mac tore across the concrete towards the shotgun as more gunfire sounded from the other end of the school. The thing turned towards him, sensing what was coming, and growled. Two steps, Mac thought. In the time it took him to reach down and sweep up the gun, the thing had tossed Jim away and sprung for Mac. Its lightning speed shocked him, but he scooped up the shotgun and swung around to face the oncoming attack.

  BOOM!

  The shot took the thing in the side of the head and swept it backwards like an invisible hand. It skidded along the concrete on its ass and then lay back, striking its head with a clunk. Mac crept forward, still holding the shotgun at the ready as the monster came to terms with the missing part of its head. Remarkably, it was still alive.

  He tried to stand. Mac put the heel of his boot on its shoulder and pushed it back down. The black eyes peered back at him. Its hideous mouth opened, revealing rotted flesh. After a moment, it stopped, jaw clenched tight, teeth mashing together, face reddening in anger.

  It knows I’ve won, Mac thought, and it hates me for it. Mac pumped another round into the chamber. Jim stumbled to his side. Mac saw terror on the older man’s face.

  “Finish it, please,” Jim said.

  Mac raised the shotgun and aimed the barrel at the thing’s gleaming skull. It began to writhe, trying to move away. Mac pressed his boot down harder.

  “Nighty night, motherfucker.” Mac pulled the trigger and its head exploded in a cloud of blood and brains. The body relaxed. He exchanged a relieved glance with Jim.

  “Help us, please,” Jim said. “This place is all we’ve got. It’s all I’ve got. There’s power, water, toilets, and some leftover food. Survivors are going to need somewhere like this. If we can clear out these bastards, we can make this place a refuge for people. We can survive.”

  “Slow down a moment. Let me think.” Gunfire sounded. Smitty and Dutch were busy. “I have to check on my friends.”

  “Wait. Just help me get this inside before any more of those things come.” He stood at the trunk and Mac joined him.

  Together, they lifted the generator out easily. Mac rested the shotgun on top of the generator, and Jim guided them across the grass and up the steps to the staff room doors. As they lowered it onto the decking, an infected woman sauntered around the corner. Mac took the shotgun and shot her in the head. A bloody streamer flew from her skull and she fell backwards into a bus
h.

  Jim stood staring at where the woman had been. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  They got the generator through the doors and laid it on the floor in the corner.

  “Lock it up,” Mac said. “All the doors and windows. Make sure it’s secure. I’ll be back soon.”

  As he crossed the decking and leapt down onto the pathway, the first drops of rain began. Mac took off towards the playground.

  45

  There were three men. Two of them split from the third and headed across the oval in Dan and Kumiko’s direction. They were carrying rifles or shotguns—she didn’t know, but at the sight of them, she felt awash with relief.

  Dan was still stuck halfway up the climbing wall. He began to kick at them, clearing a small space, but every time one fell back, another pushed its way forward to fill the empty space. There must have been forty or fifty of them milling around the playground.

  Kumiko kept switching from Dan to the new arrivals. The men drew closer, firing as they ran. The infected were dropping all around them. It provided a distraction to the ones attacking Dan. He managed to climb a few slats higher and was close enough for Kumiko to help.

  Hands and fingers groped for his feet. On her knees, she slashed at them and caught a few on the wrists and arms. Dan climbed the remaining foot and fell onto the platform in a heap.

  “Oh my God,” Kumiko said, throwing her arms around him. “I thought you were dead.” She was genuinely glad he was safe. Through their trials of the last few days, their relationship had grown only the way it can when lives are at risk.

  Dan reciprocated. “So did I.” They broke the embrace and passed a strange glance at each other. “Thank you. I’d probably be on the ground down there being eaten alive if you hadn’t done that.”

  Kumiko managed a thin smile. “You saved me first.”

  They climbed to their feet and peered out across the playground towards the football field. Still the infected beneath the playground called for them in their slobbery, hissing voices. But they couldn’t reach them, nor could they climb up to them. Their hands slapped against the posts and they assembled at the base of the climbing wall and the ladder on the other side. For now, Dan and Kumiko were safe.