Apocalypse Diary of a Survivor [Book 3]

by Matt J. Pike

  When he stopped talking, I think I managed to say, “How?” Being Jonesy, he just laughed again. Then said, “Check this out,” as he led us over to one of the work benches.

  Sure enough, hiding in plain sight, was a scale replica of his planned trebuchet. Once my attention got past everything else assaulting my eyes… once I’d locked in on it, well, I couldn’t look elsewhere.

  It stood about 30cm tall, made of wood. There were two structural A-frames on the sides and connected in the middle was the lever arm, with a counterweight at one end and the sling at the other.

  “Watch this,” he said as he loaded a golf ball into the sling. He pulled a rope, which set the engine into motion, flinging the ball into the wall across the other side of the room.

  It was so cool.

  At that moment, we were all in on mission: trebuchet.

  Jonesy looked at us and beamed, while we fanboyed over the demonstration-sized device.

  After taking in his fair share of praise he said, “We’re going to build one five metres tall. I reckon that’ll be enough to send our bowling balls all the way to Kent Town if we wanted. Well, when I say one, we’re going to start with one. But why build one when you can build three, I say? And why build three when you can build 10? I’m going to put it on wheels and slap a tow ball on the front so we can move it around on the back of Thunderbird 3. Mobile and lethal!”

  It was so exciting. Then we got down to the business of what materials we needed to source to make it all happen.

  *

  Logistics are a thing. It’s a word I pretty much ignored pre-rock. It just seemed like business talk, which had zero to do with my world. However, logistics are a real part of everyday life around the oval. Using our manpower to the best effect, that’s logistics. Crafting how the ash defines our space inside the city walls and how we go about doing that, that’s logistics. And, right now, working out where to source some rather substantial lengths of wood, then transporting them to where we’ll build the trebuchet – that is most definitely logistics.

  Everything is up for grabs in the construction of Trebuchet 1, and it needs to be, because hauling such heavy and large pieces of wood back to the oval may present as many problems as building the thing off site where the wood is.

  I have a spot in mind, by the way. There’s a place down by the Central Markets I know will suit our needs. I remember seeing the sort of wood that’d be perfect in the rubble of an old warehouse. It’s funny the things I take a mental note of these days… and it’s funny how my mind joined those dots while Jonesy was outlining what we need.

  I’m going to take the rest of team trebuchet down there after lunch to see what we can see.

  *

  Random thought for the day

  Some of the crew have been suggesting a rethink of the year – it came up in conversation last night, once we’d run out of momentum on the Norwood theories chat. There are a lot of people here that want 2015AD to become 1AC – After Comet – or something similar. They’re saying it’s the most significant moment in human history, or the start of a new history, which is so profound it should be reflected in the naming of the year itself.

  I see where they’re coming from, but I’m not sold. I like numbers, I like consistency. And 2015 is a big number. That’s a whole lot of successive years humanity avoided wiping itself out, really. That’s something to be proud of, I reckon. Even a humongous chunk of dark rock slamming into us off a long run-up from the outer solar system hasn’t doomed us. Not yet, at least. That’s why I’m going to stick with 2015. Besides, hoping to survive until 2016 seems a whole lot better than hoping to survive until 2… or is it 3? See – too confusing.

  *

  First up, I got trumped on the transportation front for our post lunch mission. Phoenix was overlooked so that Thunderbird 1 could make a debut. Is it weird that I had mixed emotions there? I’m not sure, but I did. I mean, Phoenix has been the workhorse for so long, and an absolute must in our world. While it was exciting to be heading somewhere in a car, on a short trip that had been the result of so much hard work – clearing roads, finding and exhuming cars, repairing one to full function – it just felt a little weird for me at the same time.

  Was it loss? Jealousy? I don’t know, maybe. Jonesy was creating his mayhem of Thunderbirds and soon the team would have access to transport as they wanted it… which left Phoenix and I in a different place. It’s great for everyone yet I didn’t feel great. I can’t believe that was in my head as we drove down to the warehouse – I can’t believe it’s in my head now. Still, I’ll

  get over it. Phoenix still has a big role to play in this city yet. It certainly got me thinking about bowling balls.

  Out at the fallen warehouse site, Jonesy was instantly excited. The wooden beams were long and chunky enough to get his seal of approval. Of course there was the little task of digging them out. It wasn’t cars at the Wellington Hotel level difficult, but still a challenge.

  Two significant beams were poking well out of the general pile of rubble, just begging to be the first volunteers for project: trebuchet.

  We started on the one closest to the front. It took a lot more digging time than we first expected to free it from all the snags hidden under the ash. It wasn’t a clean beam, either. The buried end was still bolted to two other broken pieces of beam, which seemed to hook every impediment under the ash on their way out. Once we had it released though, we started digging for the next one.

  By mid-afternoon we had cleared six decent pieces as well as some significant fragments and, importantly from Jonesy’s perspective, some connecting bolts and washers that hadn’t been sheered to shreds by the tsunami. It was enough to get the boys started at least. It took us two trips to get back with all the wood, which was testing the limits of the roof racks Jonesy had installed.

  Once we were back at the oval, I pulled up around the back of the members stand on the western side of the ground, which was the site we’d designated for the build. It gave us easy access in and out of the grounds and it also kept our new toy away from prying eyes... unless they walked right across the oval! The three of us unloaded everything, then Jonesy went back to the garage to work on Thurderbird 2, while I went to prepare for the night intel hunt. That left Jonah to start work on the trebuchet.

  *

  I think I’m starting to feel it. I am exhausted. Not just from today either… it’s like a rolling tiredness that has been three weeks in the making. I’ve been trying to nap before I go out tonight but I can’t convince my brain to switch off. I’m going to need a me day real soon. I say that and, well, I really need one, but I know I’ll never do it. Not the way things are at the moment. Even today I could’ve rested but I ended up on trebuchet duty. Better busy than bored, I guess. But I do acknowledge my zombie factor is probably at a 6 or 7 right now. If I’m lucky enough to survive whatever war is heading our way, I’ll sleep for a week straight, I think.

  *

  As dusk hit, I headed out to enemy territory with the same team as the other night. We were definitely alert as we crossed no-man’s land, but knowing what we knew from last time certainly eased the sheer step-by-step fear to tolerable levels – especially those final few paces before we reached suburbia in the east. It was still tense, though.

  We followed the same path we took last time and were soon climbing over the ridge of ash that lined Osmond Tce. From there we followed the road north. We walked with Shane and myself on the east side of the terrace and Ye-jun and Kelly on the west. Every now and then we’d stop if we saw something of note on the side of the road. That was mostly around footprint activity heading over the ash ridge that lined the road towards the houses beyond. It was clear Norwood were definitely ploughing the road to whatever their target was and raiding abandoned houses as they went.... just as we expected.

  This, again, was peace of mind for us. We were building a picture of the enemy and when what we were seeing matched that picture, it gave a sort of comfort an
d calm, I guess. You reach for anything positive in those moments – anything to downplay the high-risk nature of what we were doing.

  That calm was offset by the unknown of how far they’d advanced and, ultimately, where they were headed. We were going to get some answers this night … whether we liked them or not was another story. The cocktail of fear and anticipation had the adrenaline in overdrive, that’s for sure. I know my mind couldn’t think of anything but the soon-to-be discovered unknowns. I’m sure it was the same for the others too, we just didn’t talk about it really. We just did what we had to – stay calm.

  I wasn’t even sure what I was barracking for as a preferred option in my mind, really. Little progress on the road would’ve been OK, but told us nothing about their plans, which would also mean more trips back in future. So, while the more they had pushed the road forward would mean the more we would know, it would also add to the dread of how advanced they truly were. Anyway, none of it was a win – it never was with Norwood – just knowledge and a chance to prepare.

  We crossed over the remains of Kensington Rd, where Osmond became Prescott in a transition of the terraces – typical Adelaide street-naming convention right there. All along our way – left and right – we saw footprints and signs of dragging heavy objects over the ash barrier at the side of the walls. The marks were there, but they weren’t fresh.

  Another few hundred metres down, Prescott Tce came to an end. The road was cleared to the left and turned right again shortly after down Stuart Rd, which was the path that would head through to Greenhill Rd. I could feel my heart build into a gallop as we moved forward. We were heading to an answer, a big one.

  Stuart Rd went on for about half a kilometre before it hit Greenhill Rd. As we neared, and knowing we were far from the enemy at Norwood, we started talking a bit – in low tones obviously. We were guessing whether the path through the ash would turn right or left at Greenhill. My money (hell, I could’ve put all my non-existent money on this – because money isn’t really a thing anymore) was on left, as was Ye-jun and Shane’s. Kelly had her imaginary hard-earned on right.

  Sure enough, we got there and the path started off in both directions.

  Now, this threw us. It was a single indicator that made us realise they were far more active and advanced than we could have imagined. What followed was a conversation around which direction to follow the trail. While three of us had our money on a left turn in the direction of the Burnside Shopping Centre, when the track went right as well, we knew it was the path we should follow first.

  For a start, beyond the shops as Fullarton, the only other conceivable reason they were heading right on Greenhill was to track a path back into the city through the south parklands – a spot far less protected for us.

  I was definitely hit with a sinking feeling at that moment. We were far further behind the Norwood game than we realised. So, we headed west down Greenhill – heart rate up another gear.

  Again, it was just under half a kilometre of travel until we’d find our next Norwood indicator. This time, everyone had their money on a left turn at Fullarton Rd, instead of the path continuing straight down Greenhill and a potential flanking manoeuvre towards us.

  And again, we found both directions had been opened up! This was getting far more serious than we first imagined. We stood at the intersection for a minute to take it all in – all the permutations of what we were discovering. There was no decision to vote on a way forward this time. Priority No.1 was finding where they were heading close to our turf.

  We continued west along Greenhill Rd. I’m not sure I can quite put the sickly feeling I had at that moment into words. The fact they were driving their way so close to one of our flanks, was an act of aggression – there’s no other way to look at it. The thought also occurred to me that those footprints we discovered in the ash on our turf about a week ago, well, maybe they were meant to be discovered. Maybe that was a way of ensuring we took our eyes off their real movement. It sickened me on a lot of fronts.

  It also started to make me paranoid. It felt like the game, or however you describe the shifting sands (or is that ash?) of Adelaide’s borders, was not controlled by us anymore. Not that we controlled it as such, we never really wanted to, just to have our patch and be left alone was enough. But that was not what was happening. We were being played by forces bigger than us. For some reason, all the new information and thought processes fired through my mind and came out with me feeling like I was being watched. I asked Shane if he felt the same – he nodded.

  Anyway, it wasn’t long until we reached the limits of their progress along Greenhill – not even 200m. We gathered at the end of the cleared road and took a moment to share thoughts. It was decided if they were coming for us, as it looked like they were, we’d know soon enough. They had nearly cleared through to Beaumont Rd, which cuts back through to East Tce. Another 200m or so further along was Glen Osmond Rd – the other obvious entry point for them to flank.

  Without knowing their rate of progress, though, it was hard to know exactly how long we had, should this path forward mean what we think it means. We knew we would be back to this spot tomorrow night though.

  We made our way back to the Greenhill Rd/Fullarton Rd intersection. Kelly noticed what the rest of us hadn’t in our paranoid state on the way down minutes earlier – there were no footprint or drag marks in the ash by the side of the roads. That was a curious observation, given it was the pattern everywhere else we’d followed the road and, frustratingly, it also made it impossible to give any estimate as to when this ash was cleared.

  Once we hit the intersection again we turned south to follow the road towards the Fullarton shops. We made it about 400m south before, once again, the cleared road forward stopped. We found this pretty puzzling as well. Which way were they digging – both? What was their current goal? We gathered together to plan our next move – that’s when it happened.

  Something zwipped through the air right by us, followed by another, then another. Shane yelled, “Duck” and we dropped for cover behind the pile of ash that was the dead end of the road. The sound of another half a dozen projectiles flying through the air resonated around us before things went quiet again. I was pretty sure it was the sound of arrows and let the others know. In the distance, further south, we could hear voices – only a couple at first, but soon a third and then more. We were busted by a totally unknown enemy. Maybe they thought we were the Norwood crew – maybe not – but it didn’t really matter in the moment. We just knew we had to get out of there before four people became, well, who knew.

  We had guns at the ready but stayed behind cover.

  Shane was halfway through talking us through a plan, which involved him shooting off some covering fire, while we ran… anyway, it didn’t matter because the Fullarton hubbers – or whoever these people were – let off a flare. Just then, the sounds of a load more people came echoing down the road towards us. The sky, the ash, the broken buildings around us and, worse, our position, lit-up like a sea of fire. Shane gave us the short version of his plan, “Fuck it – run!”

  As we popped our heads back into view, the fwisking noise of arrows started up again. Shane fired off a few rounds in the general direction of the enemy before he followed the rest of us.

  There were screams from the Fullarton crew – some through fear at the gunfire, some barking out instructions to gather together and chase.

  I just put my head down and ran. Kelly was just ahead of me, but not for long. And while I was busy passing her, Ye-jun whooshed by me on the other side. Around us, arrows tore through the air. I had no idea where Shane was, but I was too scared to turn and look. All I could think about was getting out of range of the arrows, then up to the corner of Greenhill Rd before disappearing into the night.

  Ahead of me Ye-jun hit the ground and tumbled over the broken asphalt, then writhed in pain. I raced over to see what was happening. He’d taken an arrow in the side, just above the hip. The shaft had snapped a
s he rolled and was half dangling.

  “You alright?” I said, just as Kelly joined us.

  He was in a lot of pain, but just took some short deep breaths and nodded.

  Behind us we heard gunfire. I looked up to see Shane still running towards us but shooting back over his shoulder as he went. It certainly slowed the rate of arrows heading in our direction.

  I looked around to find the easiest place to seek shelter – there were none. We had lost the cover of darkness, the ash bordering the roads made our only

  way out (with an injured man) the straight, long and totally visible way we came.

  “Not far ‘til we’re out of range of the arrows,” I said as I turned back to Ye-jun, then gestured towards the broken arrow. “What do you wanna do?”

  He reached into his pocket and fished out a knife, handed it to me, nodded, then grabbed the fraction of the arrow shaft still sticking proudly out of his body.

  He breathed in short, anticipating-pain bursts as I moved my focus onto the arrow. I tried to block out Ye-jun, his noises and the fact that any part of this thing was connected to parts inside his body. I moved the blade to the weakest part of the shaft and tried to cut as sure, steady and fast as I could. The limp piece fell away in my hand. Ye-jun did his best not to scream.

  Shane unloaded a couple more rounds before he caught up to us. “We’ve got to go now!”

  I offered my arm and Ye-jun took it. Kelly positioned herself under his other arm. Ye-jun braced himself and made the move to standing. Shane fired off the last of his magazine then reloaded.

  Ye-jun could hardly put any weight through his left side. He winced with every step as we hobbled clear of arrow range. Shane walked backward behind us and unloaded his second clip. He was trying to leave some space between each shot, to stretch the ammo out as long as possible. It had the desired results – the arrows didn’t come as frequently… or accurately.