Apocalypse Diary of a Survivor [Book 3]

by Matt J. Pike

  Then it was time. We watched as Nate stripped down to his jocks and waded into the water a few metres south of the pylons to drop a crab net. Then he waded north and threw out the other net. He came back, grabbed a rod – his rod – and cast it long, the rig making a small plop right by one of the pylons. He planted the handle into the beach, walked back to us with a big grin and no pants and said, “Game time”.

  Only then did he consider putting his pants back on.

  I think we must’ve all been staring at him in dumb, unsure confusion, because he looked up at us, then the other rods, then said, “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  It was pretty funny really. I’ve never seen a guy own a moment like that, with such conviction, dignity and no pants.

  Now, I’ve been fishing a few times before so I knew how to, at least, not fail like a total newb in the casting department. I managed to execute the move with enough credibility to have Nate shout, “Nice one”, over my shoulder.

  This was definitely his show.

  Ye-jun and Kelly looked like fish out of water (pun apology) with the entire process, but a re-panted Nate was soon helping them through the basics of casting. He didn’t get far before his line went crazy and he scurried over to seal the deal. Seconds later I got a nibble, then another, then snap! I was on.

  A minute later and we had two Tommy Ruffs in the bucket. One that had been kissed by Nate – a display of affection I wasn’t prepared to give mine. But I did empty my lungs again with another whoo-hooo!

  Now, it had already been an emotional day to that point, but this was altogether next level. This moment was the next game-changer for our survival, probably the biggest one of them all. And it was just as I was hoping back when I first hit the beach – Mother Nature was teaming up with us. This was huge. This was earth-shatteringly huge.

  Tears of joy flowed. Again.

  We were out there for about 90 minutes. The results of our work – 11 Tommys, three garfish and a King George whiting, oh, and five crabs from the pots as well.

  That’s at least four different species, thriving in an easily accessible place within our reach every day. That’s just from our first sample point. The possibilities beyond that are enormous.

  *

  Those possibilities became most of the discussion that night. We had set up camp on the beach near the dunes below where Phoenix was parked. We had a fire going and we were eating a freshly caught and cooked dinner. Nate had also gotten his hands on a couple of bottles of wine before we’d left the oval and surprised us with his reveal. They seemed well earned in the circumstances.

  Nate was saying there were plenty of other species we could also catch, with some more ambitious rigging. And if we were able to get our hands on a boat and get out to deeper waters, the options went up exponentially.

  I did question that though. I wondered, given the lack of light, and maybe oxygen in the water, if the fish were gathering near the shore for the warmth, and maybe things were different out deeper. Whether I was right or wrong, it was an experiment I would more than happily be a part of, that’s for sure. And being the seasoned survivalist campaigner I was, I even knew where a boat was.

  It’s the one from which I swiped the windshield for Phoenix back in the pre-oval days. Now, the logistics of getting a fishing boat from 15km inland to beachside, while avoiding the Norwood hubbers, wasn’t even worth contemplating on this night of success and freshly cooked meat, but it certainly got everyone excited... and put a few more cred points in the bank for me.

  And I knew it would be something that ticked over in the back of my mind from now until the day we tried it.

  But a game-changer such as today can get possibilities moving in a million directions. And we were throwing out ideas left, right and centre. One of my favourites came from Kelly. She said we could use the lap pool at the oval, as well as the pool at the tennis centre’s gym next door, as giant breeding spots. Now, that would require some knowledge I doubt we would even possess, but if we could do that (admittedly it’s an Olympic swimming pool sized if) then our world changes forever.

  After the dinner, wine and conversation had ended, I took myself for a little wander along the beachfront. What a day to reflect on. I mean, I’ve had some days in the new world... most of them have been a struggle, some I’ll remember for all the wrong reasons, and others will remain with me for all the right ones. Fi memories aside, as far as I was concerned, this day topped them all – the adventure, the camaraderie, what we achieved, the hope that will feed us as well as the fish going forward. Love aside, that, right there, is as good as a day can get. I was freezing myself on a beach in the dark, sand inappropriately in my crevasses and I was on top of the world.

  ***

  January 23, 2015

  We were up at dawn and, despite the nasty, icy morning sea breeze, spirits were nothing but high. Nate was keen to get the tent down and get on the road, erm ash, as soon as possible, to get the best of the fishing conditions around West Beach.

  We were mobile within 45 minutes, which is pretty impressive, given we had to lug everything up the three-tiered cake. That took us a couple of trips.

  We still had the crabs and a few of the garfish, which we were aiming to add to shortly. Having a bounty to go back to base with, that was our goal. If everyone else got just a taste of what we had yesterday, well, it’s important.

  It’s approximately 2.5km to West Beach, not that we’d necessarily know if we hit it exactly – there’s no jetty (or remains of one) there to mark our location.

  We’d made it just over halfway there, following the edge of the ash along the coast, when Nate asked us to pull Phoenix to a halt. We were at the mouth of the River Torrens and, while hardly an impressive sight, he’d seen something he liked. We made our way down the three-tiered slope to investigate, with fishing kit in hand.

  Nate put me in charge of getting Ye-jun and Kelly ready to go with the same set-up as yesterday, while he rigged up a couple of squid jags on hand lines. After that he turned his attention to his rod, which he re-rigged on the off chance of catching some bigger fish. We cast in to where the water from the river ambled into the gulf.

  If yesterday was good fishing, today was a fish storm frenzy. We were on as soon as we hit the water. Bites and hooks all over the place. Wow, just, wow!

  Nate just left us to our thing, unless we hit trouble with snags or fish-swallowed hooks or such. That aside, he had his double team squid rigs working overtime. He was in the zone, and he let us know all about every catch, too. Not that the plumes of ink shooting out from his location left us in any doubt how he was going. He even had his line bent over a few times on some bigger fish – caught himself a couple of snook, which made our work look a bit miniscule.

  We just nailed fishing for nearly two hours. Absolutely nailed it. Like, yesterday was just the entree, today was mains and dessert. We called it done after things slowed down mid-morning some time. The results: 32 Tommys, 9 squid, 8 salmon, 5 whiting, 3 garfish, 2 snook. All that in not much more time than yesterday.

  The bucket had long since reached capacity. Even after Nate had filleted everything, we still needed to find every spare nook on Phoenix to store our load for the return leg.

  So, we never made it to West Beach. Still, we knew we’d be back and we’d have kilometres of coastline to fish and explore. We’d achieved everything we wanted to on this trip. True, we hadn’t managed to scrounge any food from the shopping centre wrecks, if you could call them wrecks, but that didn’t matter. Even if we had, all those sites represented the last of the old – a short-term gain, but no real solution.

  In the last 24 hours we had found a solution – a real one. As if all the feelings the trip had given us already, the best one was right there. We were packing up, knowing we’d hit paydirt and we were soon to return to the oval with a hovercraft full of fish and hope. Not only do we get to have that feeling ourselves, we get it pass it on.

  We left the beach and headed h
ome, my mind full of positives and plans. And I knew next time I returned and breathed in that sweet salty air, my thoughts would have a new memory to recall along with the others. It would be another happy memory – and a post-rock one.

  We set our course east, hoping to intersect with the Brickworks then follow the flags home. It was a free hit confirmation of our navigation system, really. We knew now, given how close we’d come to everything else, even if we missed it slightly, we’d end up pretty close to the right path home.

  And sure enough, this time we nailed it. Well, we didn’t actually hit our target directly, but we got close enough that the stumpy chimney stack appeared off to left within our 400m bubble. Not a bad effort for our longest ever single leg of travel.

  It was good to see the stumpy stack again. Seems weird to write it, but it was really like he was the gateway back to home. Since he’s the last recognisable landmark we saw before seaside, that’s probably not a bad way to think of him.

  We asked him how he was doing on the way through, to be polite. He’s not that talkative, to be honest, maybe that’s just because he doesn’t have a bag of fish to gloat about.

  Anyway, once we’d exchanged those pleasantries with grumpy stumpy stack, it was just a case of follow the flags home – past robot fingers, through the parklands, along the riverbank, through the golf course, then finally – home!

  *

  It didn’t take long for word to filter through camp that we were back – I guess the volume of Phoenix’s fans tends to grab attention anyway. Word spread fast and we had more than half the community there to greet us when we parked.

  There were a lot of eager faces watching on, and while I’m sure they wanted to know all about our adventures out west, they really only wanted to know one thing. It felt like the decent thing to do was leave the announcement to Nate, so we gave him a nod to say the floor was his.

  He didn’t need much encouragement really. I think he already had his hand on the tail of one of the snook in preparation (why not, they are big fish). He hoisted it in the air to wild celebration from everyone.

  The commotion brought some of the stragglers over to our location as well. By that time, everyone who wasn’t on lookout duty was gathered around us. Nate starting reeling off all the catch numbers of each species as the rest of us started unloading the fish.

  The buzz in the air was amazing, but it was the look on people’s faces that’ll stay with me the most. It was every bit of hope we had down at the beach with the added I-must-eat-fish-now twist. There’s a look you can see in a person’s eyes when they realise they’re about to taste something they may have thought they’d never try again. It’s a strong, strong expression – a one-tracked desire that no poker face can cover.

  Nate continued on, telling everyone how we were only scratching the surface, which we were. The fish were taken to the kitchens and plans started being made for an evening feast of the expedition’s catch. We’ll also be discussing what to do with the new food source asset at our disposal.

  The crowd started to filter off after the food was gone. Actually, more to the point, after Nate was gone. He took the fishing gear off to be cleaned for next time, and most of the community followed him with questions. He seemed to take to centre stage like a fish to water (sorry again), I was pleased for him.

  That left Ye-jun, Kelly and myself to unload Phoenix in relative peace and quiet. There were a few people still hanging around, asking about what it was like out there etc. I left the talking to the others. I was exhausted – certainly physically, definitely emotionally. It had been a draining day and a half in the wild west and, while I couldn’t wait to get back to do it all again, or find some other mission on the way to our new food source, right now I just wanted some me time.

  That’s when I saw Alyce. She was standing back from everyone else, just observing. She gave me a little wave and a smile and I reciprocated. We kind of just gravitated towards each other from there.

  “Looks like it all went well,” she said.

  “Very,” I replied with a smile.

  Then there was an awkward moment. It didn’t help that my mind just wanted to be somewhere else.

  “Well,” she said before a pause. “Nice job.”

  We shared another smile, I thanked her, then she headed off again.

  *

  I have just bathed. It’s amazing how much gross I just removed from my body. Crevasses also much more pleased at being sand free.

  I’m going to dedicate my afternoon to nothing. Nothing beats a well-earned nothing.

  *

  So, there have been a few changes around camp in recent times. Losing Brian, Nick and Craig in the battle of the oval was significant and devastating. They were all huge contributors in their limited time here and, with such a small population to begin with, it left a major hole.

  While Shane and I had only known them for a while, the others had been surviving together since the early days. The Watched, as I called them. They had known their fair share of pain before the battle, but this was different. This was loss around hope. It really sucks when I spend any time thinking about it, because they had battled as outcasts for almost every day post-rock. Then Shane, myself and the oval gave them a purpose and hope. And for Brian, Nick and Craig, they barely tasted that before they died – months of desperate struggle, a brief moment of sunshine, then death.

  I tell myself at least they got that experience before the end. That somehow, those oval moments made their overall story a positive one in this world. But I think I tell myself that to ease my thoughts at what was ultimately another cruel trick from the end of the world.

  Whatever the case, it brought change. Lana and Shane have filled the leadership breech caused by Brian’s loss. They worked closely with him anyway and both are very inclusive of group ideas – one of his best qualities. Lana’s a pretty smart operator. While she seems to be somewhat of an obsessive over thinker, she has really adopted Brian’s inclusive leadership style. So she can source an idea from anyone, anywhere within the group, which is great. She seems to have a really good radar for what ideas to adopt and what to let go. Brian would’ve been proud.

  I trust her, which I guess is as good a compliment as I can give. Not just trust her as a person, trust in the decisions she makes and why. She’s a big-picture thinker about this place and what it can become.

  She’s the total opposite of Shane’s somewhat anti-leadership type leadership. She’s all attention to detail and process, while Shane seems boisterous and buddy-buddy – just your typical Aussie bloke persona. For total opposites, I think the pair of them work well together, actually. Maybe Shane would be a little more stressed if Lana wasn’t there compulsively dotting the Is and crossing the Ts (as Grandad used to say) on everything.

  Lana will roll her eyes at Shane’s disinterest in some significant parts of running the place. I’m pretty sure he hams it up to get a rise out of her. But I think she secretly likes it, because it’s her space to be in total control, and she knows she does a good job. The pair are quite comical to watch at times.

  I’m not sure I’m quite explaining them right. Nor do I really know how to sum them up as a leadership duo, other than they just work. In their own semi-functional way they just work. And in their own way they represent what this place is all about.

  Anyway, their leadership has not been a formal change as such, it just seemed to naturally evolve with those two at the helm. Behind them, the next tier of leadership seems to be Ye-Jun and I. Again, it’s nothing formal, just how it evolved.

  It works well. It’s also one former Watched and one original oval in each tier – it’s just a merging of decision makers from two groups.

  *

  It’s the evening meal where most things are discussed and planned. Everyone has a chance to speak up. And there really hasn’t been that much to fight about yet. I mean, our manpower and machinery resources are limited and we’ve really had some absolute core things we must to d
o survive – particularly around our defences.

  I’m sure that could change with a bit of smooth sailing under our belts, but we are a long way from smooth sailing. There are a lot of unknowns out there and our presence continues to become more and more obvious as the visibility lifts and our defensive walls expand. Oh, and we did blow the siren three times post battle – that sound would’ve carried for miles – and every single person in the greater Adelaide area would have known exactly where it came from. That siren is one of the most recognisable sounds in the city.

  Anyway, we pretty much live on DEFCON 4 levels of alert at all times, and so plan and act accordingly. It’s a good way to be I think – keeps us focused in one direction and strong.

  I’m not sure I can picture a world where I/we can get complacent. I’d like to one day though, but even thinking about that makes me realise there will be more pain before there’s relief... and that’s not a space I want to think in. So, it’s a case of focusing on doing everything we can to limit whatever future damage there may be.

  *

  While our losses were significant, the post-rock world has delivered more people to the oval. Alyce and Duncan, who arrived shortly after the battle, were the first of 15 new people who rolled in, in dribs and drabs over the few days after. While Alyce and Duncan were drawn there by my directions, the others were attracted by the sound of the sirens.

  First we had a dad and his two boys, then a young couple, then a group of three in their early twenties, an older couple, a lone female and two lone men. All drawn to the sound through desperation and hope.

  It seems fitting, really. That’s how this place started. That’s who the Watched were before they joined – it’s really part of the DNA of the unofficial citizenship of our kingdom.

  And while trust for the newbies is given over time, when they see what’s on offer and what’s happening here going forward, their decision is made in a second. All have come here seeking change and something to believe in, and those things are strong motivators when linked to personal survival.