by West, Mark
‘You didn’t think.’
I throw the bag of weed at his stomach. He catches it with surprise.
‘Sorry mate.’
The pump clicks off. I want to be mad at him, I really do, but the guy just saved my life. I just shake my head. ‘We’re only human, I guess.’ I gesture to the truck. ‘Let’s get the hell out of here, before something jumps out.’
Lincoln stares down at the bag. He is about to say something when there is a tinkle of glass from inside the store. We both quickly turn towards the sound. I think I spot something behind a poster stuck to the interior of the front window.
‘Movement,’ I hiss. I hear Lincoln slowly withdraw the nozzle from the filler pipe, place it back on the pump and replace the filler cap.
I spot another shadow inside. Yellow eyes peer back at us from behind a shelf. More glass breaks and something runs across the room, slamming into a stand and disappearing out back.
‘Let’s go.’ Lincoln drops the bag of weed on the ground without hesitation and runs to the driver’s door. ‘Let’s move it, Jackson!’ he barks. Before I know it, I’m sitting in the passenger seat and we are back on the road.
I’m not sure why he left the weed behind. Perhaps it was guilt at what he put us through, or maybe part of his brain was thinking of the consequences of bringing drugs into our small community. Whatever it was, I was proud he left it.
I’m not convinced the people we saw at the service station were Infected. I think they were just scared like us, and may have had other contact with other humans and paid the price. As far as they knew we were just as bad as the Infected, and I totally agree with them. If they had come out who knows how I would have reacted, because the days for trusting another human being were over.
Chapter 31
DECEMBER
It’s December, just over four months since we left the city, and we are still alive. With three others joining us, our group has increased to eight. Noah, a close mate, his new girlfriend Hannah, who I had only met a few times, and Tyler, one of my closest friends, all arrived about ten days after it all began, with news that Canberra is now an infestation of Infected and gangs. They were lucky; they got out. But their story hits us all hard with news that human survival is rapidly declining.
The plague of Infected took them by surprise, like it did us. Tyler and another friend, James, were staying with Noah and Hannah when Infected stormed the house in the early hours of the morning. The first they knew about it was when one of the Infected was at the front door, thumping away loudly and trying to get in. The next moment another came crashing through a window in the living room, going straight for Hannah who was holding back Noah’s two barking dogs. The dogs, Tonka and Mac, fought the man off, but another few got in and tore their bodies apart like bread rolls at lunch. The distraction of the Dobermans gave the friends just enough time to escape. Slipping out the back and running down the street, they found a car that had run off the road. They dived into the car and Noah hit the accelerator, speeding down the street only to stop a few kilometres away in the suburb of Aranda when they hit a tree lying in the middle of the road.
With the Infected growing in numbers around them, they ran into the nearest house, which was, luckily, empty. It was a small place, fenced off from the neighbours and the front had a thick hedge that hid the house from the road.
There they waited, finding the pantry full of food, which they rationed. They lost almost a quarter of the food when the power cut out after three days. Realising the water may be next, they filled the bath and any containers they found. A few hours later they lost running water too.
Over the period of nine days cooped up in the house they all became agitated, hungry and cold. The house had no heating, and they couldn’t light a fire in case the smoke attracted the Infected. They said they argued continuously, mostly over food but also over what they were going to do next.
They thought they could ride it out, but when the food supplies dwindled down to almost nothing they knew they had to act. They had left their phones back at Noah’s house, and with no means of communication, they had no idea what was going on. All they knew was that whatever it was it had gone from bad to worse.
After checking the garage, they discovered the owner of the property had left their car. It was a sporty, red Jeep Wrangler, with canvas sides and boosted suspension that made it look kind of like a transformer. They found the keys inside on a hook and checked the fuel tank to find it was full. In just a few hours they had the jeep loaded with whatever they could scavenge for a long trip down south to my property. They said they picked my place because it was up in the hills and away from any major cities or towns. They had no idea that we were here.
They left Canberra in the early hours of the morning, and soon discovered how bad things had become. It took around four hours to reach the Block.
They don’t speak about much of the trip, but I know something awful happened to James. Talking about it must bring back bad memories for them. All I know, from what Tyler told me, was he was ripped from the car when they stopped to avoid a burning fire. Tyler says that the screaming is now seared in his mind.
The news of the death strangely didn’t affect me. It was like I had come to terms with the fact that all my friends and family were already dead or lost somewhere fighting to survive. Piper and Doug’s death affected us all though, as well as the death of Joseph. Rohan didn’t take the news well, becoming irrational and even taking stupid risks that had him almost killed when a car fell during a tyre change. It took weeks before we saw any kind of humour return to his personality. We were all grieving; it just took him longer to come back to reality.
A few days after my return with Lincoln, we all sat down and conducted a meeting to discuss our next steps and try to move forwards. We agreed to continue building the fence and to attempt to hook up the solar panels, knowing very well we’d lost the only man who knew how. We failed every day, filling up the generator continually with our fuel reserves, until Noah arrived, surprising us all and accomplishing what we couldn’t in just a matter of hours.
The fence took a few weeks to complete. It was tediously slow, the rocky surface proving difficult beyond imagination. But with the additional numbers we eventually completed it. It ended up being slightly smaller than anticipated, with a mix of temporary fence panels and timber palings. But no one cared, and we were extremely proud of our achievement.
Out the front we built a large set of double gates, wide enough to fit a truck through, and three smaller gates randomly scattered around the yard. There were two timber towers, one to the front and one to the back, that sat about two metres in the air, giving us the advantage of seeing a greater distance than before. With some leftover tin, I constructed a small shelter below each tower for the rainy weather, along with a timber seat I made from some offcuts lying around. We made sure someone was in each tower day and night, just in case they came.
With the property secure and power now running, we needed to make sure our water supply was sufficient to sustain our numbers. Tyler, with the help of Amy, rigged up more downpipes that ran off the house and into a small dam we dug by hand. It took about a week to construct. We lined it with builder’s plastic and then connected up a small pump we took from the hardware store. This allows us to refill the water tanks when required, and to water our crops and any animals we may keep in the future.
About a week into the fence construction, a small group of chickens came wandering up to us while we were eating lunch. We were amazed at how friendly these animals were, and with some quick thinking from Tyler, who threw a tin of corn on the ground, they were captured.
With the seeds collected from the store, we’ve managed to set up two small fields of crops. We’re growing a wide range of vegetables and some fruit, including watermelons and rockmelons. We’ve got a smaller field of wheat outside the fence, and when it’s ready to be harvested we hope we can convert it into loaves of bread with Victoria’s baking sk
ills. Unfortunately, at this point, what we grow isn’t enough to sustain us, but it does offset the canned food and ever-growing pains of hunger.
The infected are still coming. Not many, just a few every couple of days or so. We quickly take care of them, and burn the bodies, burying anything left over in attempt to avoid attracting flies that pester us. We are like soldiers at war; we are always on alert and always ready to fight with the guns we carry everywhere we go. That’s who we have become: guerrilla soldiers who will do anything to survive.
In January, the idea of exploring the surrounding area became a hot topic. We agreed, after weeks of arguing, that we needed to expand our safety zone and prepare for next winter. Unexplored farmhouses and sheds scatter the countryside and we knew these were potential gold mines that could help us achieve our goal of survival.
The plan was to take a small group of two teams, plus a driver. One group would be the guards and the other the foragers. While the foragers would gather as many useful supplies as they could, the guards would ensure the safety of the teams. The driver would never stray from the car and would always be ready to leave.
The first place we raided was a house not far from us, just a few kilometres down the road. It didn’t prove to be much of a challenge. We killed any infected that we saw then gathered what we could and moved on to another place, a little further down the road, where we picked up two milk cows and a horse.
The animals were malnourished. It proved difficult to transport them and eventually we decided it was easier to just walk them home. Unfortunately, the other animals had not been so lucky and had either died or been eaten, with multiple carcasses lying around as evidence.
Everything went to plan over the next month. We collected new equipment, food, animals and seeds without much of an issue. The Infected rarely bothered us around the Block and everyone’s spirits seemed to be lifting. The only issue was that the distance to the properties was expanding rapidly, and more risks were being taken every day.
We were travelling almost an hour for resources by the end of the month, taking only the back roads in attempt to avoid Cooma and any other major towns. We refuelled where we could, siphoning petrol from every vehicle we passed while storing the rest in jerry cans for later use. There seemed to be enough out there for the moment, but each time we refuelled there was talk about it running out. Someone mentioned horseback, but I can’t ride. I figure I’ll have to learn one day.
As our confidence grew, we found we were spending more time on the road than back home where it was safe. It was endless what we could do: taking what we wanted and doing anything we pleased with no one telling us otherwise. It was as if the world was now our oyster, apart from the things out there that would kill us – or to my eyes hunt us down. I could feel them stronger than ever now, a strange gut feeling I got more regularly. Something deep down told me they were coming.
Chapter 32
PRESENT DAY
It is a warm summer day in late January when we spot a large two-storey farmhouse sitting in an open field about an hour from where we live. The place seems old. It has white weatherboards and an old tiled roof that has patches of moss and lichen growing on it. It looks pleasant and reminds me of an old, run-down beach rental that you would find in a small coastal town.
When we enter the house, I notice a blue, beach-themed feature wall covered with flags, oars and pictures of lighthouses. We walk through the main room with caution. The house is clean and seems untouched.
Amy grips a shotgun tightly as she inspects the surroundings. ‘Seems like someone has confused the beach with the country.’ She steps forwards and inspects one of the oars mounted on the wall.
Tyler bustles over, rifle in hand. ‘I like it.’
He is a short, stocky guy, a bit like Rohan but not as solid. He has short, thin brown hair that he parts to one side, and a rounded face covered in patches of stubble that seem to be struggling to form a decent growth. He is wearing a pair of my old man’s ripped blue jeans and a black polo shirt he brought with him. It’s his favourite shirt and has small holes across the tattered collar from years of use.
‘It reminds me of my mum’s coast house down in Narooma,’ he continues cheerfully, peering at the wall with narrowed eyes. ‘She used to hang up all kinds of stuff like this.’
Noah walks over and stands beside Tyler. He is also wearing clothes that my old man stored at the property. Except unlike Tyler, where they are tight and hug most of his areas uncomfortably, they hang loosely on his thin frame. His hair is dark and spiked at the front with hair gel and his jawline carries a thick beard.
I watch Amy check the main room for another minute while the two boys still gawk at the artwork, then follow Rohan into the dining room next door. Lincoln is close behind us. Noah, Lincoln and I have been voted foragers for this trip and carry limited weapons, keeping our hands free to collect. No one is in the car waiting for us this time, a rule we broke about a week ago after Hannah was surrounded by three Infected while we were inside scavenging. It was a close call; luckily, we pulled it off with no injuries or deaths.
Another rule of thumb when we explore a property is that we make as much noise as possible when we first enter a building, ensuring any Infected inside come out and don’t take us by surprise. I begin yelling when I enter the dining room, banging and hitting anything and everything I can see. I knock over pots, plates, anything that will break and cause a noise. But stop when I see the family photographs.
Everyone seems so calm in the pictures, happy and full of life. They all have smiling faces. I imagine a photo taken today and see images of sad faces with darkened eyes, scars and dirt-encrusted skin. Or perhaps they would be action shots of people running or attacking the Infected, not fluffy rabbits being held by small children and laughing families sitting on a picnic rug eating cake and drinking lemonade.
I pick up one of the frames and inspect the photo more carefully. It’s a family shot and I suspect it’s professionally taken. It shows a man and a woman with two small children: a boy and girl. The kids seem to be around eight or nine years old, but I can’t be sure. The family all have thick, dark hair and are dressed like they are going to church: suits and ties for the males and formal dresses for the females. On the bottom of the frame is something written in green: The Anderson Family.
I hear people calling from upstairs. The family is trapped in the master bedroom, pounding away at the door to be let free. Finding they are trapped, we decide to check the rest of the house before dealing with them.
On my belt I have a hand-crafted machete and a small pocketknife that I found in the shed at home. I feel disappointed when I look at the pocketknife, remembering the hunting knife I lost back in Canberra when we were captured. My machete is crafted from a thick sheet of steel, with two flat bits of timber bound together with string for a handle. To shape the curve of the blade, I used my hand-held grinder then ran a sharpening stone up and down the edge until it was razor-sharp. It isn’t the most attractive weapon, but it is effective. The day after I finished it, I decapitated two Infected that wandered through our paddock. The news of my creation sparked creativity amongst the group. New weapons were created: bats wrapped in barbed wire, double-edged spears and even a hunting bow that sadly broke soon after it was made. There is always the fear of running out of bullets, and, after an ammunition count a few months back, we knew it wouldn’t be long till we needed alternatives.
I approach the thumping door that Tyler and Amy are inspecting. Cracks are beginning to appear in the plasterboard that surrounds the jamb. I watch them grow with every thunderous strike. It won’t be long till they break through.
‘What’s the hold up?’ I ask, after a few minutes.
‘Looks like they are wedged up against the door. I don’t know if we can open it,’ Tyler replies.
‘Any solution?’ I ask, brushing away a stray paint chip that’s landed on my shoulder.
Tyler folds his arm. ‘Hmm …’ He places a
hand on the door for a moment, but retracts it when it shakes violently. ‘Let me think.’ He continues to inspect the surrounds before calling to Rohan who is standing with the rest of the group down the hallway.
‘Oi, Rohan, get over here.’
Rohan raises his chin in acknowledgement and walks casually over, unfazed by the urgency. ‘What’s up?’
Tyler taps him on the chest with his index finger. ‘I got a plan and we need your help.’
He then directs Rohan’s attention to the window at the end of the hallway. ‘You see that window at the end of the room? Do you think you could climb out and around to the bedroom?’
Rohan follows his gaze, inspecting the window before turning back to Tyler. ‘And why would you want me to do that?’
‘We need a distraction, that’s why. And you’re the man for the job.’ Tyler’s jabbing finger is brushed aside. ‘We need you to do it so we can storm the room and kill them.’ Tyler smiles, raising his eyebrows at me and Amy.
Some plan. I roll my eyes.
Rohan inspects the rattling door then walks to the window. We all watch as he examines it closely, touching the timber frame before lifting the sash and poking his head out. His head retreats moments later and he casually strolls back to where Tyler waits for an answer. ‘Well?’
‘Nope,’ he says, unexpectedly. ‘Can’t do it.’
‘What do you mean you can’t?’ Amy asks, pulling a small water bottle from her hip pocket and taking a sip.
‘Just can’t do it.’
‘Can’t do it or it can’t be done?’ I ask, puzzled by his answer.
‘Oh, it can be done,’ he says quickly, and then shrugs his shoulders. ‘But I can’t do it.’
Tyler’s head jerks up. I see a hint of a flame burn in his hazel eyes. ‘And why not?’
‘There’s no way I’m going out there. Knowing my luck, I’ll fall off and break my neck.’