by Wilde, J. M.
“Maybe you’re right,” I said, throwing the makeup-covered wipe into a small bin in the kitchenette. “We should be safe in there. And we can lend a hand.” Ben opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when something caught his eye to our right. I turned to see a rusted brown station wagon swerve around the corner, veering dangerously close to the RV as it fishtailed. It sped towards the hospital, skidding to a stop next to one of the tanks.
Jo stood up and put a hand on my shoulder as she bent down to watch through the window. I could feel her fingers trembling against my skin, and I placed my hand over hers.
We watched quietly as a middle-aged man with grey hair and a beard stepped out of the driver’s seat. He waved his arms up and down at the soldiers before running around the car and pulling open the passenger door. The soldiers stepped towards him as he helped a younger man out of the car and to his feet. I could see he was injured, his shirt stained with blood.
“He’s been bitten,” Ben said, still looking through the binoculars. “Oh jeez, he’s got two huge chunks of his arm missing. I can see the bone. Ugh.”
I squinted my eyes slightly to get a better look. Both men were dripping with blood, leaving a trail behind them as the shuffled forward.
“I hope they made it there in time,” I thought aloud, watching as the older man held his arm around the younger one as they limped towards the hospital.
The soldiers stopped when they saw the blood and began shouting something at the men. They pointed their guns, and the men froze in their tracks, holding their hands out and showing their open palms in response. I couldn’t hear what the soldiers were yelling, but they weren’t lowering their guns. The two men dropped to their knees in the middle of the road. The younger man clasped his hands together and bowed his head, almost as though he was pleading with the soldiers. The older man took hold of his friend’s wounded arm, pointing to it and shouting something.
“They’re not letting them in,” Ben murmured, bewildered at the scene playing out right before our eyes.
“Why?” Jo asked, her voice quiet. “They said on the news that anyone infected needs medical assistance. They did what they were told. They need help!”
One of the soldiers dipped his chin towards his shoulder, speaking into some sort of communication receiver. A moment later, the soldiers began to fire, the sound of their guns making us all jump in fright. Jo screamed, and I covered her mouth with my hand, not wanting to alert them to our presence. The men’s bodies thrashed violently against the force of the bullets for what felt like an eternity before they finally fell heavily to the ground.
I could feel Jo’s tears falling onto my fingers, and removed my hand so I could wrap her in a hug. I held her tight, whispering for her to stay calm, but I felt just as terrified as she did.
“That was ‘medical assistance’,” Wyatt said through gritted teeth. “There’s no cure. They just kill them.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at the lifeless bodies in the distance. One of the soldiers began to drag them behind the sand bag wall while the other jumped into the station wagon and drove it out of sight.
“Time to leave,” Wyatt said. “We need to find another way out of the city.” He started the engine and began reversing the RV back the way we had come.
Even with everything I had seen, I still held hope that the outbreak would end soon. I thought a vaccine would be distributed, and within a few weeks everything would be back to normal. I wanted more than anything to go back to living my life, to having my trivial little problems. But after seeing those soldiers murder two helpless people, I realised how naive I was being. None of that was going to happen. I may not ever have that life back again. A wave of guilt hit my stomach as I thought of how much I was taking for granted just a day earlier. Safety, food, health, friends, freedom—did I ever take a moment to be grateful for any of it? I’m sure I would have, had I known it could be taken away in an instant.
It was suddenly painfully clear to me that everything about my life and the world had changed.
We were on our own.
No-one was coming to save us.
Chapter Thirteen
We sat in silence as we exited the city, leaving the skyscrapers behind but unable to shake the terrifying things we saw. I could see Ben shifting anxiously in his seat as we entered the outer suburbs. The neighbourhoods were just as worrisome as the city, with devoured bodies strewn across front lawns, burned out and crumpled cars lining the curbs, and zombies haunting the streets.
We saw the occasional car speeding alongside the RV, filled with survivors just like us—although most were headed in the opposite direction, which I didn’t take as a good sign.
Even though the outbreak only hit Melbourne late last night, a bond had already formed between the few of us who had survived. I exchanged knowing glances with the others in the cars as they passed us, their eyes just us worried and weary as my own. None of this bode well for Ben’s parents. I took a deep breath and hoped that, somehow, they had managed to stay alive.
“It’s just here,” said Ben, pointing to a house on the left side of the street. “The white one with the rose bushes.” Wyatt pulled the RV over and for a moment we just sat quietly, scanning the street for any signs of life ... or death. Ben turned to us and nodded, so we each picked up a knife and slowly exited the motorhome.
A cool breeze brushed against my face, and I almost felt peaceful as I closed my eyes to breathe it in. It was late afternoon, and soon the sun would start to set, bringing this—the first day of the apocalypse—to an end. But I had a feeling that the real horror had only just begun. I followed Ben through the gate and past the white picket fence as I admired his childhood home.
A white, two-story weatherboard structure with flower boxes adorning the window sills and a beautiful cottage garden, it was charming. I could envision Ben growing up there; playing on the long front porch, running through sprinklers in the summertime. It appeared to be untouched from the ravages of the outbreak, and I hoped that meant his parents were unharmed. I climbed up the porch steps and waited by the front window while Ben searched his pockets for his keys. Wyatt and Jo stood in front of the house, keeping watch.
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw movement from inside the house.
Stepping up to the window, I cupped my hands over the glass to take a closer look inside. My heart sank deep into my chest when I saw them.
There, in the middle of the living room, I saw a man’s body. His arms were motionless by his sides and his head faced the window, his sad, frightened eyes staring into nothingness. An infected woman crouched over him, her blood-soaked hands clawing into his stomach as she fed on his intestines. The sound of Ben’s jingling keys unlocking the screen door snapped me out of my horrified stare.
“Stop!” I whispered as loud as I could, making it sound more like a desperate screech. “Don’t unlock the door!”
“What?” he asked, freezing in place. “Why?”
I didn’t know what to say. I just stared at him, my bottom lip quivering as I tried to hold back the tears. His shoulders stiffened and his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he walked towards the window. I put my hand on his arm as he tried to look through the window, trying to stop him.
“No,” he said, shrugging my hand away. “Whatever it is, I need to see.”
Watching him peer through the window, searching the inside of his house, all I could do was wait for his heart to break. His eyes locked onto his parents, and he gasped.
“Dad!” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “No,” he whispered, his voice choked by devastation. He let out a low moan before looking through the window again. “Where’s my mum?”
Confused, I turned back to the window and looked inside. She was gone. He didn’t see what she had become. “Ben ...” I started, but I didn’t know where to begin. “She—your mum—she was ...”
Before I could explain, something threw itself against the window, mak
ing us both jump back in fright.
“Mum!” Ben yelled, falling to his knees. “No! No, no, no, no, no.” He couldn’t contain his tears anymore, and they streamed down his face as he stared helplessly at the monster that was once his mother. Her fingers had been gnawed on, she had chewed her own fingertips off during her feast. Blood smeared onto the glass as she tried to bite through it, her lips and teeth covered in her husband’s flesh. I could see from the festering laceration on her hand that she had been bitten. Red, raw and inflamed, it had already started to rot.
Wyatt and Jo ran onto the porch at the sound of Ben’s wails, and together we sat with him on the porch, crying silently for our friend and his doomed mother and father.
After what felt like hours, I turned to face the garden, unable to bear the sight of the infected woman or her shattered son any longer. My breath caught in my throat as I heard moaning from out on the street.
Peeking over the porch fence, I saw three zombies shuffling past the house. I held my arm out to warn Jo and Wyatt, and they slowly turned around, following my gaze. Wyatt put his hand on Ben’s shoulder, signalling for him to stay down. We sat on the porch, barely breathing as we watched the zombies continue slowly down the street.
“We need to go,” I mouthed to Wyatt, and he nodded in response.
“Ben, mate,” he said softly as he tried to look into Ben’s eyes. “I’m really sorry, but we need to go. It’s not safe for us here.”
Ben kept his gaze on his mother, but nodded in agreement. Wyatt helped him to his feet, but he pulled away and stood up unassisted. He moved closer to the window, standing face-to-face with his mother. She growled at him as she pushed her palms onto the glass, trying to break through. Ben held his hand up to hers, tears spilling onto his trembling lips as he looked into her dead eyes. “I’m so sorry, Mum,” he sniffed. “I love you so much. Goodbye.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled a long, shaky breath before stepping back from the window and turning away. Wyatt and I followed behind as Ben walked ahead of us and headed for the RV, wiping his tears on his arm.
No-one said a word as we buckled our seat belts and drove away. Ben took one last look at his home before breaking down again, resting his head in his hands. Jo and I sat side by side at the dining table, holding each other as we wept quietly for our friend.
With very few cars on the road, it didn’t take long for us to make it out of Melbourne. Heaviness filled the RV, each of us lost deep in our own thoughts as we watched the last of the suburbs fly by our windows.
As I slowly began to drift into sleep, I felt my heart ache for everything, and everyone, we were leaving behind.
What lay ahead for us remained to be seen, but as Melbourne lay in ruins behind us, I hoped it would be better than what we found today.
Chapter Fourteen
I gazed out the window, staring thoughtfully up at the clouds as we barrelled down the highway. The sun had begun to set over the vast expanse of fields and farmland, casting everything in a warm glow.
I tried to get some rest, but my nerves were too high-strung and any time I drifted off, fierce nightmares would jolt me awake. All I saw when I closed my eyes were the rancid, gruesome faces of the infected. I couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly this had all happened. A mere twenty-four hours ago, those rabid monsters were normal human beings going about their lives; going to work, worrying about paying bills, picking their children up from school. Their lives changed in an instant. The entire country changed in an instant. And for all I knew, the same nightmare could be spreading all over the world.
Ben unbuckled his seatbelt and walked over to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Eva,” he whispered, trying not to wake Jo. He held one of our many first aid kits in his hands. “Here, let me look at your cut.” He turned on one of the ceiling lights above me while I started unwrapping the bandage from around my arm.
“Okay,” he nodded as he inspected it, “it’s not too bad.” He carefully wiped my wound with a cleaning pad from the kit, making me flinch. It stung, but it already felt better than before. “It’s only about a centimeter deep, so it won’t need stitches or anything. I’ll just clean it and put a fresh bandage on it.”
I watched him as he took such gentle care of my arm. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, but I was in awe of his composure. The day my parents died, I was a mess. I couldn’t even speak, and here he was taking care of my injury. “How are you?” I instantly regretted asking such an inane question. I shook my head. “Sorry, I mean—”
“It’s okay,” he said, keeping his eyes on my arm as he rolled the bandage around it. “I don’t know, I kinda feel ... numb.” He clipped the bandage into place, sat back and sighed. “How did you get through this when ...” He stopped and bowed his head, unable to finish his sentence.
I knew what he was going through all too well. Months went by before I could physically say that my parents had died, as though somehow it wouldn’t be real until I uttered those agonizing words.
“To be honest,” I started, staring absentmindedly at the dining table, “I’m not sure how I got through it. I just did. It hurt like hell, and it always will, but I’ve learned to live with it. I don’t understand why it happened, and I wish it didn’t, but it did. I learned to accept that over time.”
It had been so long since I spoke about the death of my parents that just hearing those words come out of my mouth made me realise how far I had come since it happened. My heart ached for Ben, knowing he was only at the very beginning of such a harrowing time. I reached out and took his hand. “I know it feels like the whole world is crumbling around you right now. And I guess in a way it is, with everything else that’s happening. But you know what? It’s okay. It’s okay that you feel numb. It’s okay that you feel like shit. Feel it. Then, once you’ve had enough of feeling that way, you’ll start to move forward. But right now, feel however you want to feel.” I took a breath, surprised at the speech I had just given. I hoped desperately that I had helped ease his pain, even just a little.
Ben looked up at me with tears in his eyes and hugged me tight. Seeing the heartbreak in his eyes, I finally knew what it felt like to be on the other end of this exchange. The only difference being he would never see relief in my eyes, I had already survived that tragedy; it didn’t scare me anymore.
Ben pressed his palms into his eyes before sliding out of the booth and standing up. “Thanks, Eva,”
“Anytime,” I replied, giving him a slight smile. “We’re all here for you,”
He packed up the first aid kit and climbed back into the driver’s cabin, and I looked over at Jo as she slept. It occurred to me that the three human beings in the RV with me were now all I had in the world. A new fear loomed over me: losing one of our little tribe.
“It’s us against the world now,” I muttered to myself, sucking in a deep breath.
A moment later, I noticed the RV start to slow down. Turning to look out the window, I could see we had turned off the highway and were driving through a small town, so I unbuckled my belt and stepped towards Wyatt and Ben.
“Petrol,” Wyatt explained as I leaned against the back of the driver’s seat, as though he knew what I was thinking.
“Better wake Jo,” Ben said. “We’ll run in and grab more food and anything else we find while Wyatt fills it up.”
“Is it safe?” I asked, peering through the windshield for any signs of danger.
A wide main street, a strip of stores and a few houses scattered around the area was all that made up this tiny town. But even with its distance from Melbourne, it was clear it had not escaped the wrath of the infection. Countless devoured corpses were strewn along the road and sidewalks, and a few shop windows had been smashed. The havoc looked recent. “Where is everyone?”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of us. “Dunno. Let’s get this done as fast as we can. This place is giving me the creeps.”
I leaned over and lightly tapped Jo’s shoulder, start
ling her awake. The RV rolled into the town petrol station and we scanned the area suspiciously for any movement. Squinting to see through the broken windows of the station store, I couldn’t see anyone inside. Wyatt switched the engine off and we sat in silence, listening closely.
“Let’s go,” Wyatt said as he opened his door and stepped outside.
In a hurry, we each took a knife and jumped out of the motorhome and ran over to the store, peering through the windows to make sure it was safe to go inside.
“I think I see a crowbar behind the counter,” Jo said as we stepped through the broken glass door, the shards cracking under our shoes.
Ben made a bee-line straight to the snack food aisle, ripping open a packet of potato chips, and Jo ran behind the counter to get the crowbar.
“Just grab whatever you can carry,” I said. I picked up an empty milk crate, put my knife inside it and started packing it with bottles of water and snack foods. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in hiding for.”
Even though we had many packets of dehydrated meals packed away in the RV, I knew we could never have enough food. While potato chips and chocolate bars weren’t the healthiest options, they would at least bring a bit of normalcy to our lives while we drove to Cairns.
Holding the full crate, I turned to leave the store, only to see Jo standing frozen behind the cash register. A chill ran down my spine when I saw the terrified look on her face. All the colour had drained from her cheeks and she was clutching the crowbar so tight that her knuckles had turned white. Her wide eyes were trained on something behind me, out the window.
“Jo?” I asked, following her gaze.
I saw Wyatt standing by the motorhome, holding the petrol hose as he filled it up. I shifted my gaze behind him and gasped. Three zombies were lurking up behind him.
“Wyatt!” I screamed, dropping the crate and sending bottles of water exploding onto the linoleum floor. “Run!”