We untangled ourselves as the convoy reached the road; even now, clearing the horde at the college, rotting hands were slapping against the windows as we surged forward. I could see why Tobias had chosen to abandon the dirtbikes; a rider would have been dragged off and eaten alive. A few moments later we cleared the crowd, pulling out onto the main avenue that led to the highway. Tobias was barking orders into the radio as I finally managed to get the Steyr off my back and pull a seatbelt on. In the dark streets rushing by I could see ever more undead, shambling down towards the noise at the college, vainly turning their heads and changing course as we roared past.
I barely had time to catch my breath. We hadn’t been driving more than a few minutes before we hit something. I caught a brief glimpse of the windshield spiderwebbing before the car lurched sharply to the side and flipped over. My world was a jumble of bodies, weapons and broken glass.
I must have hit my head because I blacked out for a moment or two. Someone had dragged me out of the car, and I staggered to my feet, confused and disoriented. Gunfire and zombie screeches rang out around me as I squinted through the glare of headlights, flipped vertically from the car on its side. My bloodstream was soaked in adrenaline and my mind choked with terror; I had no idea what to do or where to go. I caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Flanagan with his Steyr, stock pressed against his shoulder, firing quick sharp shots at rotting ghouls lurching up at us from beyond the headlights. Private Librizzi fumbling to reload, slamming the butt of his gun into a zombie’s head, dropping the rifle and yanking his Browning out, grabbing a zombie by the throat and simply placing the barrel of the handgun against its head, squeezing the trigger, an explosion of rot and ichor. The distant thumping of the APC’s chain gun, hundreds of metres further back down the road, separated from us by the horde. Corpses shuffling and moaning. I’d lost my Steyr somewhere in the mad scramble but I remember lining my Glock up with countless skulls and firing, firing, firing…
A child’s face – living and breathing. I almost squeezed the trigger, stopped myself just in time. Twelve years old, maybe. Hard to tell because he was wearing a diving mask and had a rag wrapped around his mouth. “This way!” he screamed. He had a gore-stained machete in one hand. More gunfire and screaming. Other figures swarmed around us, knocking down zombies with baseball bats and cricket bats and lengths of pipe. All in some kind of protective facial gear – dust masks, surgical masks, motorcycle helmets, even a proper military gas mask.
After that there was some running. I might have collapsed. That’s all I remember. Tiny fragments. I was panicking and terrified and took a knock to the head when the Land Cruiser flipped. That’s all I can remember after wracking my badly bruised brain for a while.
What I remember after that is waking up in what can only be described as a prison cell.
It’s a utility room, really. One wall is lined with long-dead electronic cable boxes. The walls are concrete. There’s a naked electric bulb hanging from the ceiling, also long dead. No window; light comes from a seven-armed candelabra in the middle of the room, crusted to the floor with wax.
There are four of us in here: me, Captain Tobias, Private Librizzi and Justin Tomlinson. When I woke up, Justin and Librizzi were already awake, speaking in low tones. They told me I’d been out for about two hours. For a moment I was embarrassed, thinking I’d passed out from terror and exertion as we fled from the crash. My memories were still foggy. They filled me in.
We’d come up against a traffic block, dozens of cars piled up against a smash, long since zombie-ridden. While attempting to negotiate past it we’d been hit by a swarm of undead, forced to abandon the vehicles. In all the chaos and danger – that panicky fight I only half-remember – some survivors had emerged, trying to lead us to safety. They’d taken us into underground tunnels, where we were ambushed by other figures. Librizzi and Justin disagreed on exactly what went down, and it seemed that they were almost as unsure and discombobulated as I was.
I tried to keep an open mind. I tried to remember what it had been like back in Eucla, when we were looking out for each other, for the people who’d been aboard the lifeboat after we pulled up the rope, and were suspicious of anyone who came down the Eyre Highway. I thought I had a handle on who was eventually going to come through that door.
Except the person that eventually came through was a kid. And another kid, and another.
Tobias was still unconscious. That nevertheless left three grown men (well, one grown man and two guys in their late teens) to take on three children, none of whom I thought was older than thirteen. The difference was that the three kids were holding an M4 assault rifle and two Steyr Augs, all three weapons almost certainly taken from us in the first place.
I should reiterate: this room was about the size of the average bedroom. You might think you can successfully lunge at a 12-year-old with a gun from less than a metre. But before you do that, think about what three magazines of 7.62mm ammo – that’s 90 rounds – can do at point-blank range, fully automatic, to your internal organs.
None of us made the lunge.
“Why did you put us in here?” I asked, the first one of us to speak.
“What are you doing here?” the one with the M4 asked. I wasn’t sure if I’d seen him last night; he had curly red hair and freckles all over his face. Maybe he’d been the one under the gas mask.
“What? What do you mean?”
“You came into the city a few days ago and set up in that school,” the kid asked. “What are you doing here?”
“I...” I was confused. “Could I speak to who’s in charge here?”
“I’m in charge here,” the kid said. “Answer the question. What are you doing here?”
Before I could reply, Librizzi spoke up. “We’re from Jagungal. You must have heard of Jagungal, right? If you’ve been surviving here this long?”
The kid snorted. “The magic kingdom with the alien spaceship? Yeah, I’ve heard of that. Where are you from?”
“Well… from there,” Justin said.
The kid’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you from? Stop fucking with us.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I said. “We’re from Jagungal. There really are a thousand people there, safe and sound. And, yes, an alien spaceship. It’s true.”
The kid stared at us with what I can only describe as contempt. “Alright. Fine. You’re from the magic spaceship land. What are you doing here?”
I glanced at the others. “We’re here to get something back, from some people who took it from us. You knew we were here. You must know about them as well?”
“We know about a lot of people. And there’s a lot of people in this city. More than you’d think.”
Might as well tell him. “The guys in the ASIO building. On the north-east shore of the lake.”
The kid shrugged. “They’ve been there for a while. More of them lately, though. Came in on a chopper.”
“That’s our chopper,” I said. “They stole it.”
“You came all the way here just to get a helicopter back?”
“No. It’s what was in in it.”
“Look,” Justin broke in. “We’re glad you rescued us. We really are. Thank you. But you don’t need to hold us in here. We don’t mean you any harm. You don’t need...”
“I’ll be the judge of what we need,” the kid said.
“Why don’t you believe in Jagungal?” Librizzi asked.
“Oh, I believe in it,” the kid said. “I believe there’s something up there. I just don’t think it’s what you hear on the radio. I think it’s a trap.”
“Look, mate,” Librizzi said, “we’re not your enemies. We’re not here to hurt you. Why did you save us last night if you were only going to throw us in here?”
“Because yesterday we had two guns,” the kid said. “Now we have twelve. Good ones, too.”
He didn’t say anything more. There was a grimness to him, a stone face. I feel older than my years, given what I’ve been throu
gh this year. In an alternate universe, I’d be stumbling my way through university right now, still living with Dad, still not knowing how to drive. I’ve grown. But whatever I’d been through, this kid must have been through worse, because he seemed older. I couldn’t help but think of the kid Matt had killed after he shot his knee out, up in that field in New South Wales. Some young, scrappy survivor. Childhood’s end.
“Are you all kids?” I asked suddenly. “How many of you are there?”
“None of your business,” the redhead kid said.
“Why are you here?” Justin asked. “What do you want from us?”
“To find out where you’re from,” he said. “And I believe you. Jagungal. So we’re going to go think about that for a while.”
They backed out slowly, the key turning in the lock behind them. We were left once again in a dark little room with the candelabra flickering between us.
“How’s the captain?” I said.
“No fucking idea,” Librizzi said. “He obviously took a knock to the head, but I dunno how bad it is. But he’s breathing. And he was mumbling a bit before.”
“Alright,” I said. “OK. This could be worse. We could have been eaten alive. I’ll talk to Matt, he’ll send a second team down, we’ll be fine.”
I closed my eyes, sank into the trance, and spoke to Matt. He swore about the situation, and asked me where we were, which – somehow – was the first realisation I had that I had no idea. I think we might be underground somewhere, I said. Does that help? Canberra doesn’t have a subway.
Matt snorted. So? You could be in one of a thousand basements or utility rooms or fucking whatever. You could be in some secret bunker under Parliament House for all we know. We can send another team down, but if you don’t know where you are…
I’ll try to get it out of him the next time he shows up, I said.
Aaron. We can’t send people down if they don’t know where they’re going. We can try to secure one of the fallback points, but... even if we do, that doesn’t help you.
Well, not a bad idea, I said. If we can pull this clusterfuck out of the fire, we’ll need a new base anyway.
Know if there’s any other survivors apart from you four?
No, I said. There might be. I don’t know. He said they had ten more guns now…but that doesn’t mean the guys who had them are still alive.
All right, Matt said. Sit tight and we’ll get you out of there. I’ll talk to Sanders and see what I can do. Just hang in there, and for God’s sake, try to get a location.
Yeah, I said. Thanks.
I signed off, and came back into the wispy candlelight and bare concrete walls. Explained the situation to the others, and looked at Captain Tobias for a while. Justin had rolled his jacket up under Tobias’ head, and he seemed to be breathing OK.
I’m still worried. It’s not good to be unconscious for that long. Unless it wasn’t a knock to the head. He’s barely been sleeping over the past few days, not that he ever gets enough anyway. Maybe after the adrenaline and stress of the crash his body just shut itself down for a bit.
That conversation I had with Matt felt odd. A role reversal. All those times up in New England when he was stuck there, locked away, totally at somebody else’s mercy. And all I could do was sit in Jagungal offering empty platitudes of reassurance. I guess I’m earning my stripes now.
November 18
Tobias woke up this morning, but he said his vision was still blurry and he felt nauseous when he sat up. He was angry – that cold, restrained anger I’d only seen in him a few times before. “How many of them are there?”
“We don’t know,” I said.
“They said they have twelve guns now, though,” Private Librizzi said.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Justin said.
“Wait and see,” Tobias said. In the flickering candelight, I could see that his eyes were still having trouble focusing.
The kids brought us some bottled water and canned vegetables later in the day. Three of them, not the same three we’d spoken to before, all of them with Steyr Augs. One of them was mine – I could tell from the scratches on the stock and the scope. “I want to talk to who’s in charge,” Tobias coughed. The kids ignored him. “My name is Captain Jonathan Tobias and I want...”
They shut the door.
“Fucking kids,” Justin said, as I grabbed a can of chickpeas and peeled the lid off.
“Don’t underestimate them,” Tobias said, settling back down onto the folded jacket, closing his eyes. “They’ve been here all year, they’re still alive, they can’t...you know, I mean, they can’t be too…” He was mumbling, drifting off again.
“Is that normal?” I whispered to the others. “I mean, I’ve been knocked out my fair share of times, but I usually just woke up a bit later...”
“Just concussion, if we’re lucky,” Librizzi said. “Worst case scenario he has a mild brain injury.”
“I think the worst case scenario might be a bit worse than that,” I said.
“Uh, yeah, it might be,” Librizzi said, “but I didn’t know if you’d know that and I didn’t want to freak you out. Hey, Captain? Drink up.” He cradled a hand under Tobias’ head and dribbled some water from a plastic bottle into his lips.
Tobias stirred slightly. “Ah, shit,” he murmured, and drank the water without opening his eyes. A moment later he was lying still again. Asleep? Unconscious? Something in between?
November 19
Again just three kids, again tossing us food and water. A bucket to piss in. I’d hate to have to shit in it but so far none of us have because you need to actually eat food to fucking process it, and all we’re being given is a few cans between us each day.
Tobias was better today. He tried standing up in the morning but threw up into the piss bucket and went back to sleep for a while. In the afternoon he seemed much more himself and walked back and forth across the room a dozen times, trying to steady his step in the wavering candlelight. “How long have we been in here?” he asked.
“Over 48 hours, by my watch,” Librizzi said. “We think they’re all kids but we don’t know how many of them there are. We’ve seen at least six different ones. Oldest one is a redhead, maybe 13 or 14, looks like their leader. They’ve got our rifles and they never open the door without at least three on us.”
“Well,” Tobias said, easing himself back down to the floor, “they must think we have some value. And they must be set up pretty well. To still be alive after nearly a whole year, after a heavy winter, and to be giving food to prisoners? They must be doing OK.” He looked at me, and I noted with some worry how unfocused his gaze still was – he seemed to have trouble concentrating on one spot. “Aaron, have you talked to Matt?”
“Yeah,” I said. “First thing. But Captain Sanders says he can’t send a team to rescue us if he doesn’t know where we are. They’re prepping another team to take the Lodge, but they’re waiting. I mean, Jagungal’s less than a day away – they can come on in without attracting a big crowd of zombies first.”
“Right,” Tobias nodded. “Yes. Right.”
“Are you OK, Captain?” Justin asked.
“Fine,” Tobias said. “Just a bad concussion. I’ve had worse playing footy. But, look – concussion can come and go, so – I’m not relieving myself of command, exactly, but if I order you to do anything stupid, then don’t do it, OK?”
“Uh... OK,” I said. “ So what’s our plan?”
Tobias shook his head. “You say they’ve had three rifles every time? We can’t rush them. Best bet at the moment is to wait and see what they want. Tell them the truth, tell them about Jagungal. They might be suspicious – they should be, after what they’ve probably been through – but we shouldn’t make enemies of them. I’m not gonna say something like ‘they’re just kids,’ but they are just survivors. Good people, probably, just… hard. Keep talking to them about Jagungal, be reasonable, be fair. We can talk our way out of this...”
He was ly
ing back down, and seemed to be talking his way back to sleep. A moment later he was motionless again.
I glanced at Librizzi. “He’s OK,” he said. “He’s just exhausted. Just needs rest.”
I wasn’t sure whether he was telling the truth or hiding it from me, and I was too exhausted and miserable to find out. I’d spent months up in Jagungal doing nothing but honing my telepathic skills and weapons training, when I should have been learning as much first aid as I could. We have six doctors in Jagungal now, ranging from university medical students to surgeons, and all the time in the world. I could have been talking to them. I could have been learning about the human body, learning about problems, learning about oxygen and blood flow and exactly what it is that keeps us alive. But I’d been so focused on the combat, on the weapons drills, on learning to be more like Tobias and Blake and, yes, Matt. I still don’t even know how to fix a fucking car engine. It was too easy up there. Too cloistered.
How did you deal with this? I asked Matt later. How did you... how did you not go insane?
I nearly did, Matt said. You stopped me. You and the Endeavour.
That was later, I said. When he was torturing you. These few days, just... Jesus, you can’t get out, you can’t breathe, you can’t do anything. They could walk in here any second and kill us. I can’t cope with this, Matt, I can’t!
He didn’t seem very sympathetic. It’s no different to Kalgoorlie, he pointed out.
I looked down at the number tattooed onto my hand, 553, that ugly little black scratching, in the gloom of the candles. He wasn’t wrong. If anything this was better than Kalgoorlie. These kids had just taken us because we were there; they were trying to figure out what to do with us. At Kalgoorlie it had been clear that we were disposable labour and as soon as we faltered we’d get a bullet in the head.
End Times Box Set [Books 1-6] Page 163