Apocalypse 2

by Matt J. Pike

  The next day he went to rendezvous with his mates, but no one showed up. He was alone. It was at that point he said the world started closing in on him too.

  I knew where he was coming from with that. It’s like there’s a slow moving but relentless tsunami heading right for you. You spend your whole life in a fast jog just to keep pace with it, just to stay alive. When you’re doing it, keeping pace with the monster, that’s all you’re doing – going through the motions to stay one step ahead. But it can’t last. You try not to let yourself think about it, but you know you can’t sustain that pace. One stumble, one missed step, one wrong turn and the whole thing comes down around you.

  That was me when Fi died. That was Shane at that moment.

  Three days later Emma… ended it. It was all too much for her.

  On top of everything else! I can’t imagine how Shane survived that mentally.

  Much like me, he shut down for weeks/months. He only left his home to skulk around the other derelict properties nearby, to forage for cans or whatever scraps of food he could find. He got by… just. He just existed as I had just existed.

  Then, one day, he woke up and realised that he could never be himself again if he stayed in Gawler. He had to move. While most people would’ve headed to higher ground above the tsunami line and more obvious supplies, he went lower. It was his point of difference. He figured he’d already proved he could eek out an existence looking for food where no one else was going – it was sustainable and far safer.

  So, he packed up a few supplies and his tent, all of which he towed from his waist on a little makeshift sled, and he made his way (very slowly) down Main North Rd. He wasn’t sure where he was headed, just sure what he was headed away from.

  Nearly 40km and more than a few close calls later he found himself in the city. That was nearly two months ago.

  It was such an amazing story. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him again without thinking about the experiences that made him, well, him. And when I think of what we’d both been through, and to be brought together on that pile of supplies at Woolworths, in such a way that we didn’t kill each other, only to be drawn there again just as a bigger force was about to raid those same supplies. To team up together, to be here, at the oval, trusting someone enough to share a plan, a drink and our stories, man, that seems like destiny.

  Or, it could be the alcohol talking. I was a little bit pissed, still am as I write this.

  Anyways, my candle is nearly out, it’s getting late and a big day awaits tomorrow, no doubt.

  18! Boyhood – I kicked your ass.

  Now I’m a man. That is a really scary thought.

  *

  October 17, 2014

  Shane and I were debating the best option to transfer the remaining food supplies from Woolworths to the oval. If it were as straightforward as just the supplies, we’d have been down there at first light trying to gain access to the lower level. But, right now, the big unknown is when our friends from the East will be back. We certainly don’t want to get caught red-handed mid-Woolies-raid – that would be a mistake we only make once.

  So, we’ve decided to lay low and monitor from afar until we get a better picture of what they’re up to, if/when they do return. The best way we can do that is to head to Woolworths at dusk each day to see if there’s been any evidence of human activity. We figure we have a window of a good hour of light to ourselves at the start and end of each day (they’ll need that for travel time to head home).

  So, just before dusk today we’ll head down. If there’s no activity for, say, a week, we’ll reassess. If we see they’ve been there, we’ll reassess. Meanwhile, securing our current supplies and location is our priority. Oh, and power, we definitely need power. It got nasty cold last night and the thought of cold canned food for another day is too much to take.

  *

  So we located the stadium generators. The room was locked so we felt our best bet was to find the main security room, which Shane had already come across in his travels. We scored a couple of sets of keys that looked like they unlock every door this side of Gawler, and even some two-way radios and the charger kit. They will come in very handy.

  Then I left Shane to do his thing with the generators, while I checked out the groundskeeper’s storage area, which is underneath the eastern stand, below the oval’s surface level. I swiped some heavy duty brooms, another shovel, some buckets and a wheelbarrow. Just a bunch of bits and pieces that will make relocating the ash a little easier.

  *

  We broke for a mid-morning feed then continued working on our plans to secure part of the western stand as home base. The way everything was laid out we decided the Sir Donald Bradman Pavilion made the perfect location. It made up the middle third of the stand in the west and, although it looks like one continuous stand at first glance, the pavilion is actually surprisingly separated on closer inspection. It was by far the easiest part of the ground to isolate and secure. There were walkways down each side, providing a natural barrier, the access problems were at the back, where they’d added on the modern part of the stand and walkways criss-crossed between it and the neighbouring stands. While tsunami waters and maybe ash deposits claimed a couple of the narrower walkways, we still had a number to seal off, as well as the wider corridors on the higher levels. Once we’d completed all that, we will be able to build a little wall around the front of the pavilion to prevent access from all directions.

  *

  Lunch. OK, this is going to be some serious back-breaking work. We’ve barely made a dent in sealing the first corridor after two hours. I had no idea how much ash was required to pile from floor to ceiling! The smaller walkways are fine, but the larger corridors on the upper levels connecting to the adjacent stands are wide and open – you don’t really appreciate how much is required to fill the space until you start trying. Ash just keeps spreading as it’s piled up and we need to wheel in more and more and more. For each metre up we’re piling it, it’s spreading two metres out. It’s thoroughly depressing. It’s going to take days to make it all happen at this rate.

  We took a much needed break at one stage to eat and rehydrate. We chatted through some plan B options – any shortcut to save us time. The problem being, we needed material other than ash to help us and there wasn’t anything nearby that was strong enough, big enough or easy enough to move. Nothing resembling a solution really came to either of us.

  We decided to switch our focus to some of the smaller walkways on the lower levels and managed to finish four of them in the afternoon. It was great to actually finish a task – but there really is nothing to celebrate until all the corridors are blocked off.

  *

  No activity around the Woolworths tonight. It’s got to be coming soon, surely. While we were out we hovered up the Coles site as well. The place was a mess. The store was part of a larger shopping centre – Rundle Place or something, it sat on the lower ground level right near the main entrance. So, the tsunami waters had ploughed through the front doors sweeping everything not bolted down into the supermarket below.

  It was really difficult to see what was going on down there – it was just a mess of piled-up brown debris and twisted shapes. There was a small gap between ground level – where we stood – and the debris pile in Coles below us.

  So, everything near the atrium dumping point was a write-off at the very least. I did have some hope that in the aisles further away there could be some significant pockets of food (similar to what I saw downstairs at Woolworths) but that was just a hope and the access looked dangerous. Clearly, Woolies’ lower lever was a higher priority, but I knew not all was lost here either. Little discoveries like that give you hope too. It all adds to the list of potential finds. Right now, there are guaranteed yes spots, maybe spots and no spots. So, even if it’s just a maybe spot, it’s important… psychologically if nothing else.

  Right now, my life is only really guaranteed to extend as long as it takes for me to e
at half of the food supplies. That’s all the stuff we have from Woolies, plus whatever we can take from downstairs. It’s really not that much when I think about it. So, to be truthful, I don’t think about it, not in isolation. Instead I think about all the entirety of food supplies – the guaranteed yes, combined with the potential maybes. This is a lot easier calculation to deal with, mostly because there is so much guess work in the potential maybe category that it’s impossible to measure. I’m OK with that… really… because if I concentrate on the finite maths of the guaranteed yes section, well, it’d feel like the tsunami closing in on me again.

  *

  Whatever the case, at least we have power now. Game changer. Shane has the generators feeding electricity into the western stand. We’re trying to limit what we use for now to make sure we don’t beam too much light into the outside world, but it’s also good to feel a little more normal again. Power is a luxury item and it’s good to bathe in her sweet luxury again.

  That evening we discussed a few ideas to save us time on the ash piling. We figured our best bet is to take a pile of chairs from one of the function rooms and use them as a filler to create a structure for our wall, then pile the ash in and around. So, we’re going to see how high we can stack things tomorrow. It’s pretty embarrassing that we didn’t think about it during the day. I guess we were focused on looking for something bigger, but the chairs could work well and there’s no shortage of supply.

  *

  Oh, I’ve set up a little shrine for Fi in my quarters. I’ve got a copy of the photo of us surrounded by a few candles. So, starting tonight I should be able to get back into my ‘tell Fi everything’ routine.

  *

  October 21, 2014

  It’s been a few days since I last wrote. I have just been so exhausted at the end of each day I can barely bring myself to sit down and write – more to the point, I can barely use my arms. Anyways, after four days of mind-numbing, body torturing physical labour, we have successfully isolated the Sir Donald Bradman Pavilion from the rest of the Western Stand. It definitely felt like we weren’t going to get there at times, but the feeling of satisfaction as we kicked back with a beer last night and admired our secure home base was one money can’t buy. Actually, what can money buy these days?

  There’s still a lot of work ahead… like, seriously, more than I want to think about… but it was a great way to end our first week. That milestone brought with it at least one significant formality – to decide if we want to stay in our partnership or not. In the end, it wasn’t really a decision at all. We both knew we were looking at something big here. I can’t quite explain it, but there’s a feeling like, whatever is happening here, between the two of us and the oval, is something… well, more. More than just survival, more than planting a flag pole, more than finding a place – again, words are failing me. But I just know I’m compelled to stay with this project for no other reason than I just need to know what we turn it into.

  That’s still not quite cutting it… destiny… or something. Look, I’m meant to be here, I just feel it!

  So, that means the relocation is about to become permanent. I’m heading home (well, old home) this afternoon to collect everything worth transferring to the city. Well, in truth, I’ll be leaving enough behind that I’ll have a fully functioning Plan B if everything goes pair-shaped, but there’s still plenty I can bring to the oval to make life more comfortable. Not the least of which is some entertainment. Seriously, I know I said I was cutting back, but that was when I was living in a house. This place is, well, a bit soulless in the evenings and when I’m not hanging out with Shane, chatting with Fi or writing in the diary there is absolutely nothing to do… at all!

  Nothing a game console, some books, music and DVDs couldn’t fix.

  Note to self: I must cruise by JB Hifi soon to expand my collection of everything listed above. Hopefully, I can get access to the one in the city – it’s downstairs, though, so fingers crossed.

  Which reminds me… Woolworths (just next door to the place of my entertainment dream shopping spree) and the fact that we STILL haven’t had any visitors yet. There is absolutely no way I thought it’d take this long for them to respond. It’s a fact that is starting to freak me out enough to annoy Shane. He says I’m being overly paranoid and that we may have actually scared the rest of them off. Well, I’m not buying that for a second. Whoever they are and wherever they come from, they know we are sitting on something worth killing for – you don’t just let that go without a fight, not when resources are this precious.

  Maybe they are already back. Maybe they’ve been trying to monitor us like we’ve been trying to monitor them. Maybe they’re staying off the roads and spying on our movements from the shadows. Maybe… maybe Shane’s right and I am a little paranoid, but it’s funny how your mind plays tricks on you when things don’t pan out as your logic tells you they will.

  Whatever the case, I’m still going to be as low key as possible on the way home today. I feel a little exposed as I’m leaving later in the day than I’d prefer, but it is what it is. I think I can follow the riverbank from the front of the stadium up to the zoo, then through the Botanic Gardens before heading out of the city and towards home. It’s a step further away from North Tce and any potential run-ins with potential angry, vengeful, hungry, violent mobs (see, totally not paranoid above).

  Part of me is also clinging to the idea that the Jamesons will be there when I get home. I mean, I’m not holding my breath or anything, but, seriously, how much of a game-changer would that be?

  Will report back this evening.

  *

  The good news and bad – there was no sign of any activity at the house. No sign of Norwood hubbers, no sign of randoms, no sign of the Jamesons. Everything was just as I left it, except for the ash, which had already crept up a few centimetres over the bottom of the doors. The windy days still tend to push the remaining loose surface stuff around, so I knew I’d have to return here at least once a month just to make sure I’m not blocked out forever.

  Having said that, the human tracks in the streets near the house were definitely up. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t been there for a number of days and I noticed a whole lot at once, but maybe it was the Norwood hubbers starting to become more active and desperate again.

  I tried my best to not let it all add to my feelings of paranoia. Seriously, I tried to just act as an adult survivor, make a mental note of it as something I’d observed, then moved on. But I didn’t really move on, not entirely. I couldn’t help but think that all of these ‘observations’ were signs of an increasingly desperate and hungry hub, and that it was inevitable that, at some point soon, their paths and mine would cross.

  I really had to let those thoughts go. True as they might (or might not) be, I needed to be cautious, not paranoid.

  It was weird going into the old house again. It had only been a week but already something had changed. Sure, it was grimy after that long without a clean, but it was more than that, like the house and I used to be connected… used to be. I never thought about it at the time, I just belonged in the space, almost on a DNA level. But looking around there today, I felt a step removed. Not like I was in someone else’s place, but it was at the very least a forced arrangement. Sitting at the table didn’t seem right, same with the couch, none of it felt natural.

  So, the oval seemed so soulless in the evenings, when it was just me and my surroundings, yet my house no longer felt like my home. That was a bit of a disturbing concept. It was as if I didn’t truly belong anywhere.

  I gathered together as many things as I could think of that were more important to life at the oval, yet left enough to still make the old home a functioning one. Jerry cans, spare parts for Phoenix, spare can openers and torches, tools, extra gaffer tape, the hydroponic kit, a few changes of clothes, bedding, four refillable tanks of water (full), a game console and as many games, DVDs and CDs as I could get my hands on.

  It took me a good two
hours to load everything onto Phoenix. I then had to set up another note for the Jamesons – directing them to Adelaide Oval. Man, if they do actually try to track me down and go from park, to house to oval – they’re probably going to be really annoyed at me by the time we meet! Anyway, I’ve set up a nice little feed for them on the kitchen table and another note, written in a code only we’d understand, sending them to the oval.

  *

  I said my goodbyes to Mum, Dad and Fi, then to the house, before I hovered back to town. Hopefully I had taken some of the essence of that place with me, some of the stuff that would start to turn the oval into a home. Home DNA.

  I took the same route back as I did out, giving any potential danger spots a wide berth. I unpacked my stuff and started setting up my quarters to feel a little more homely.

  I bumped into Shane about an hour later. He’d also done a dash home to collect supplies. He’d since been back at the oval, noodling around to see what he could see. Well, he’d done more than that, he’d managed to dig himself down from the ash above the playing surface, through the race to the away team footy change rooms. Not that impressive on its own, but there was a whole different world down there beyond the ash fallout and the change rooms. We’ve looted stuff from there before, but having another way into the bowels of the stadium is very handy. More access points equals less chance of getting trapped. We have ourselves some sneaky ways to move through the stadium, which could be very handy if we have any unfriendly visitors.

  *

  October 23, 2014

  It happened.

  About a week later than I thought, but it happened. On our evening visit to Woolies last night’s we saw signs of activity – lots of signs. Even though I’d been preparing for this in glass-half-empty fashion for a few days, nothing prepared me for the dread that washed over me. In part at the thought of immediate danger, but more so at the knowledge that this abandoned, colourless, disintegrating city paradise was no longer a playground for two – the enemy had come back to us… this was real… and permanent.