by Matt J. Pike
Since most of the prep jobs are pretty much done, we’re going to put two people on all the night lookouts from now on. We’ll make sure to have three at North/East Tce – the place that seems the most likely attack point at the moment. It’s not the way anyone want to be spending their time and it’s a huge reminder of how deep we are now in this thing, but it is – by far – the best use of our manpower right now.
*
So, it’s started already, in a way. Norwood make a move and we make one to counter. But our move to counter costs us a far greater percentage of our people resources. They’ve started controlling our behaviour and stressing our capabilities. Whether it’s deliberate or not, it’s a big psychological play, and one we can’t win from... we can only hope to limit the damage as best we can.
It looks like what they did to Fullarton all over again.
*
Everyone has taken to wearing their full fatigues now. Actually, we look pretty kickass. I guess it’s our way of making a statement back, or making sure we’re prepared and focused, or staying as a team, or something. Whatever it is, I like it.
*
Hopefully I can sleep tonight. I’m running on empty but I can’t turn my mind off.
***
February 14, 2015
OK, I take back what I said about Alyce yesterday. Her presence calmed me last night. It really helped me switch the thoughts off.
We just fit. And I need something that just fits in my world.
I’m not dumb. I know there’s a very real possibility that things could change for the worse at any moment. That everything I have built here and everyone I currently know in the world, could all be taken from me. And it could all start at any moment.
That’s the one piece of reality I have tried to keep my thoughts ahead of every day post-rock. But today there’s too much reality. Something game-changing, something New Adelaide-shaping is coming.
When I write now, I know that each diary entry could be my last. That’s not easy to process, when I think about it. Everything I know changing – breaking. No sunset ending for my words either – in fact, no ending at all. Just, no more words. That would be a really unjust end to my survival masterpiece, wouldn’t it?
I’ve decided I owe these pages more... just not sure what I can do about it.
Writing has been my gift to me in this world. It has given me space to collect my thoughts and make decisions. That has kept me alive. But it’s become more than that, it’s the thoughts on those I love who are gone. It’s their final legacy in this world. It’s all that’s left of them. And it will be a legacy of me, too.
Sure, everyone’s got to go at some stage. And post-rock that can happen pretty quickly. Part of me is prepared for that and always has been. But if this world I have helped build and the people who helped me build it are gone too, then my words no longer have any meaning. In some strange way, I feel the diary is more important than me. I will go, but these words and everything and everyone they represent, must not – cannot – disappear. The thought that, if the worst happens, these words will probably pass unnoticed through the rest of time, is devastating.
While I’m here, I am both the documenter of events and the custodian of the safety of their collective knowledge. Once I’m gone, so does my ability to control the safe passage of these words and that knowledge into the future. They will be thrown into the whirlpool of fate to see if those who remain wipe each other out altogether or some other group of people, somewhere in this world, find the secret formula for working together to rebuild. Either way, if my existence and this story disappears, then everything that has happened to me in New Adelaide may as well not have. There will be no record of any other it. That thought alone just kills me.
Maybe I’m blathering, but that what’s I feel I’ll be fighting for whenever the hammer falls. These people, this place, sustainability and future, my words and the memories of others they hold, Alyce and home – that priceless feeling of home that everyone would do anything to find in this world.
All worth fighting for.
All worth NOT dying for.
I am so introspective right now. I think my mind is preparing me for the inevitable. Change and pain are coming.
*
Wow, I have just reread what I’ve written – that’s intense. But I think those words are telling me I’m ready. Whatever comes my way, I fight on the side of good and I’m ready.
Ready for war.
***
February 15, 2015
I went and got breakfast in bed for Alyce this morning. I had slept like a champion again – totally not what would’ve happened without her presence. The breakfast thing was both a thanks to her and my way of trying to hold on to the moment as long as I could.
I should probably try to put this connection down in words – Alyce and this feeling of home. It’s actually been hard to find the time... or maybe the need. I’ve been so busy prepping for war and just diving in and experiencing this new feeling – well, I was (and still am) in no shape to put it all into words. But, you know, journal... and with war coming, this may well be my only chance. Hell, I’m on an introspective roll, so why not?
So, we don’t really talk much. It’s strange... or maybe not... it’s like the connection is there without really needing the words to convey it. With Alyce, well us, it’s all about actions. I don’t mean those actions, I mean, just the way we connect.
When she moves her body in next to mine, she does it with everything that is her.... more than that, she does it with total trust. Yeah, that’s the word – trust.
That’s something you don’t bandy around too much in this world. Every connection is usually an ever-evolving mix of mutual benefit, circumstance, risk, reward... and a hundred other factors all swirling around each other like some complex radioactive compound of unstable elements... and if... and that’s a big IF... the entire thing doesn’t explode or shatter or suck the entire universe into a black hole... then the trust starts to form.
That’s how it usually works post-rock. Who knows, maybe that how it’s always worked, but it’s oh-so much more intense at the end of the world.
For example, if I’m realistic about the oval and everyone here, well, that’s what we are – a complex compound. If it wasn’t for the oval, we probably would not have connection in the first place and, even if we did, I can see very few non-oval realities where we are still together. Even Shane... especially Shane, actually. Yeah, even with all we’ve been through, if you ask me if I 100% trust him.... the answer is no. If you ask me if I 100% trust him while the oval is still our home – the answer is yes. That realisation defines so much about my world.
That’s a balance you don’t really think about too much day-to-day – or ever really – because there is too much to be gained by not dwelling on what we could potentially lose if we analyse it too much.
That’s the frame of reference I have for the power and speed of the Alyce connection. When she moves in next to me, she does it with everything she is. Utterly everything. There is no sense of holding back, there is no leading with a few cards and just seeing where the hand leads – it is everything. All in.
Given what she’s been through, she could be forgiven for not having that capability, but the fact that she does, and chooses to share it all with me, well it is utterly powerful. It brings those things out in me, too. Those feelings have been lying dormant under the surface of everything else for a while now... just waiting. No, waiting is not the right word... just dormant generally. They could’ve stayed that way forever when I think about it. Anyway, her trust – that... that’s the power.
You don’t need to talk much when you have that. In fact, I sometimes I think all of the talking in the world is just a protection mechanism. It’s the million syllable code required to refine whatever complex radioactive compound you find yourself in to become the simple stable element you dare, once in a blue moon, to realise you want, maybe need.
This thing
with Alyce – it has started as a simple stable element. It’s started as home. I don’t know how, it just has. As impossible as it is, that’s what we’re dealing with. There is nothing in this world worth more than that.
I am home.
*
I’ve made a decision and it’s been a hard one.
At some point, very soon, New Adelaide will be redefined like never before. All lives will change. Until then, I want to experience every moment I can. Therefore, I am retiring the diary entries.
While I have work to do to prepare for that moment, that is not why I’m stopping.
I want to taste every moment of home between now and war.
If this is to be my last post, well, what a shit and totally unresolved way to end these words... but that’s this world.
If someone ever finds these words, well, thank you for reading them. Maybe you’re someone I know. Maybe you’re a fellow survivor from somewhere else with your own stories to tell. Maybe you’re from a time long from now, looking back and thanking this whole hot mess of humanity that we didn’t ultimately kill ourselves long enough to find a future out the other side – one that created a better world (I hope) and you. If so, you’re welcome. Whatever the case, it’s been a pleasure sharing.
Perhaps imagine I died doing something heroic to save everything we’ve created at this place... or someone I trust... or someone I love.
Also know, I’ve died a complete person. Full of life and completely invested in my world... one I helped create. There is a pride and fulfilment in there I will take with me, I’m sure. Most importantly I died at home.
Anyway, thank you, and goodbye.
***
###
The following is an account of the events in New Adelaide in the late summer of 2015. They are told from my perspective, and wherever possible, from the accounts of others who lived to tell their tales – in an attempt to create the most accurate record of what happened.
*
Life has changed, this world has changed and this is why.
***
February 16, 2015
Three nights after the attempted breech on territory across no-man’s land near the North Tce/East Tce intersection, the Norwood hubbers tried again. They made their move down Bartles Rd. Steph and DC were on watch.
They were first alerted by a faint light in no-man’s land. Shortly after they heard whispered voices. They called it in and back-up was sent. They also fired a flare to expose the enemy. They saw what they believed were at least 8-10 enemies and opened fire – short bursts – when a shot was on.
The Rundle St lookout was also able to engage and joined in the fire. The enemy did a runner before back-up arrived. Both posts claimed a hit – neither were able to be confirmed.
No injuries from our side.
What the dawn did bring, however, was evidence of a breach of the wall – just not where all the action was. A second group – probably similar in size – had climbed the wall a few blocks further south, where East Tce turned residential.
We found it on the morning perimeter check. The trail split off in several directions and activity could be seen as far south as Hutt St before it was lost.
*
It was a scary reminder of the extent of the task ahead of us. Not only the potential size of the enemy we were trying to hold off, but the size of the grounds we were trying to hold. We were stretched thin and the night of February 15 made that clearer than ever before.
*
February 17, 2016
After returning from our morning find, we discussed changing the boundaries we defend. Strategy talks were heated and, while there’s no point singling out who was pushing for what now, it is important to know many reconfigurations of our front were discussed.
In the end, it was decided it didn’t entirely matter. Whether we could defend it fully or not, it was what Norwood thought we could do that would really decide this battle.
Between the two nights of enemy sorties across no-man’s land, our life had changed again. Lookout duty was no longer one of the tasks around the daily running of the oval, it was the main focus of our attention. We had to be in as many places as once as we could, to give Norwood the appearance of as large a force as we could portray. The only way to do that was to be where they were every time they tried to test us and our defences.
We split ourselves into two groups, each working 12-hour shifts.
This was the last full meeting at the war room. And that in itself was three days after our last gathering as a group – the feast on the night Norwood hit Asha’s position.
None of which we knew at the time.
***
February 18, 2015
I was asleep when the alarm sounded around camp. Word had come in that the ash sweeper was active on Greenhill Rd and had started clearing its way into the city. Alyce and I were soon joined by another dozen sleep-deprived comrades on the main oval. We were the day shift – Dianne, David – the ex-Navy couple, plus Ashleigh and his boys, Jacob and Jessie were South Tce watch. Alyce, Ye-jun, Kelly, Laura, Mark, Jan and Nate were East Tce, working under me. We were exhausted. It wasn’t just the 12 hours on the wall that made it tiring, it was the other six hours doing the stuff around camp that still needed to be done either side of the lookout shift. I reckon I’d had about two hours’ sleep when it all hit.
Most of the vehicles had ferried the night shift to the various locations around the front, leaving only Thunderbird 3, as well as Phoenix and her newly completed sisters as options for us at base. Lana, who was heading communications and tactics back at base, came down to see us off and wish
us luck. She did emotions – if I needed any further reminding of how big this all was, Lana emotions were that reminder.
We managed to pile into one car and two hovercraft and headed south down the maze of booby-trap-free streets. Joyce and Kent joined us; they were Lana’s support crew and would ferry back Thunderbird 3 once we were at the front.
As we neared, you couldn’t help be lost in the skies above – fire-red and angry, but with a strange beauty I couldn’t explain.
I drove on autopilot on the streets I knew so well, eyes barely lowering below the horizon. I had one hand on the steering controls and one hand locked with Alyce’s – we both gripped tight.
When we were within about a block of the wall, we pulled the vehicles to a stop and marched the remaining distance on foot. I say marched, it was probably as determined as a march, but may have looked far less confident, coordinated and assured, had anyone been watching.
I was scared shitless. I was a lot of things, actually, my own storm of emotions under the red glow. I could feel it in the others as well. I just had to fake it as best I could, being in command and all.
As we approached, you could hear the sounds of battle – the real sounds – the ones that make the blood drain from your face. There were semi-intermittent rounds of gunfire, but it was more than that. There was the barking out of instructions. You could hear Shane yelling something, then seconds later it was Jonesy – the something in their voices that was a something like I’d never heard before. Then the sound of the trebuchet creaking into action, echoing out into the night. In the distance you could also hear other commands being issued... sounds that rose in pitch and intensity after the trebuchet hulked into life. Then a large distant thud, a short pause, the sounds of more distant instructions, then more gunfire. It just made everything hit home. This was up close and personal and it was real.
And that was all before we turned the last corner to get a clear view of the battle space. Minds already messed with – already in our own battle.
It was utter chaos. Despite thinking I was mentally prepared – after all the weeks in the lead-up and even the hover down as I heard the sound of battle grow louder and louder – nothing could have prepared me for what I faced.
Jonesy, Jonah and Michael were wrestling with the trebuchet. Jonesy was dishing out orders at full Jonesy volu
me as they struggled to raise the counterweight in readiness for another strike. He was covered in sweat and muck, and bleeding from the side of his head, which seeped out under some red cloth he wore as a tourniquet/bandana. Behind them, two people were laying low and firing shots from the top of the wall. It was Marci and Angie – probably the least practiced with weapons of all of us. And now our frontline defence. Beyond our ash perimeter the night glowed red from the flare. What they were firing at, and everything in no-man’s land, remained out of sight to the rest of us.
Then Shane called down from the lookout to Jonesy, “You’re still falling short – a good 20-25m! Also, move it a fraction to the right – like, 3-4 metres. I dunno – one degree maybe.”
Jonesy swore. I jumped in to help lift the counterweight into position, Dianne and David joined me. We had it up and ready in no time. That’s when I started to notice the occasional fssk of gunfire through the air. Not the ever-present sound of firing, the sound of the air tearing apart as a bullet ripped through it – past us.
A window shattered in one of the buildings behind us. I remember taking a second to realise what it all meant, then another to breathe deep and decide to block that thought out of my head altogether, then it was back to the task at hand.
We all helped push the back of the trebuchet a few centimetres around until Jonesy was happy, which he signalled with an ear-crunching “Stop!” Then he shot up the side of the frame, where Jonah passed him up a bucket loaded with nails – it looked heavy. He dumped it into the counterweight box before adding a second and a third load. The box groaned with the added weight. I didn’t want to ask, but I was sure it was carrying more kilos than we had ever tested before.
Jonesy worked his way down to the trigger rope and called everyone to stand clear.
As he was doing that, I wanted to get a better view of what was happening beyond the wall. I realised most of the new arrivals were standing around not knowing what to do. I yelled out, “Whatever Jonesy says, you do. I’ll be back shortly.”