Shannon nearly dropped the rock in surprise. “A million bucks? No way!”
“Oh, yes,” Toppley said. “And there are plenty more, and plenty which are far larger. Possibly larger than any black opal previously discovered.”
“That’s what they were mining here, not coal?” Tess asked. “Meaning most of those machines out there are simply camouflage for any aerial survey.”
“You’re asking my professional opinion?” Toppley asked. “I suspect they intended to explore for coal, but then found a seam of opal. They are working it by hand, sending it back by plane. Everything else here, yes, is camouflage to avoid declaring the find and so paying the tax. There is an ordered professionalism to the operation which speaks of experience. They have conducted this kind of illicit dig before. The runway was the giveaway. It’s far larger than needed to take a crew away for a weekend’s escape to the coast unless that plane was unusually heavy.”
“Wow,” Shannon said, then held out the stone to Toppley. “Here.”
“No, keep it,” Toppley said. “Assuming the commissioner doesn’t want it as evidence? However, I should remind you that the federal government takes tax fraud rather seriously.”
“Not anymore,” Tess said.
“Let’s see that?” Kyle asked, walking over to Shannon. The girl turned away, while Molly stepped forward. So did PZ209 and Toppley.
“Back up, mate,” PZ209 said.
“Everyone has work to do,” Tess said. “And there’s a zombie approaching.”
“So maybe you should share out those guns, Princess,” Stevie said.
“Good idea,” Tess said, unslinging the rifle and holding it out to the career criminal. “Do you remember how to use one of these, Toppley?”
“Oh, I think I can manage,” Toppley said.
“Why are you giving it to her?” Stevie demanded.
“Experience counts for everything, Stevie,” Tess said.
Chapter 10 - Always Have a Plan-C
Humeburn, Queensland
Outside, the sun had sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky above glowing a fiery red that mirrored the land beneath. Growing up, Tess had considered sunsets like that as depicting a world on fire, and many was the airless summer when she’d had no energy for any thought but one: why had her mother chosen such a forsaken place in which to make her home. But then autumn would arrive. The outback turned from a furnace into a warm land filled with mystery and legend, hope and possibility. But here, now, it had been replaced with the very high probability of death.
The approaching zombie was still a kilometre away, lurching towards her at the very edge of where the road met the wilderness. As it stepped off the road, it stumbled, staggering forward a dozen paces until it tripped on the raised tarmac and fell, face first, onto the blacktop. Hand on her holster, Tess watched as it thrashed, kicked, beat, and slapped its way back to its knees, then to its feet. It was too far away to see the details, but surely it had added new damage to its already substantial wounds. How long before they battered themselves to death on the scorching Australian rocks? How long would it take in the humid jungles closer to the equator, or in the frozen tundra of the far north? Days? Weeks?
She undid the clasp on the gate, pushed it open, and stepped out to meet the zombie. When she reached the stalled bus, she stopped, and there she waited, scanning the horizon, making certain no more approached. No, still only one. And still, she waited. Waited until she could see the zombie wore a camouflage jacket. Waited until she saw those were hiking trousers, not military issue. Waited until she could see the caked blood on its face. Waited until the zombie was clear of the stretch of road the plane would need to land. Waited until the zombie was only twenty metres away. Then she drew her pistol and fired.
Again, she checked the horizon, before walking over to the twice-dead creature. The clothing worried her. It was civilian rather than military. Camouflage hadn’t been in fashion for years, but that was another way of saying coats like that could be found in the front of most op-shops and the back of many wardrobes. Regardless, this woman had probably been a soldier. The deliberate uniformity in the boots, trousers, and jacket indicated someone who’d wanted as close an approximation to military attire as could be found. A tourist, a reservist, or perhaps an active-duty soldier who’d raided a house when she’d needed clean kit.
How were the operations to clear the outback of the undead truly going? The lack of satellites, the broken switchboards, the over-powered and illicit broadcasters clogging the radio spectrum with portentous rumour and light music, a hazy command structure, the ever-changing priorities; it all combined to make for an uncertain picture. She knew the bush security operation was on-going, and her experience on Canberra’s walls told her it wasn’t going as well as hoped. It was another issue to raise with Anna.
With her boot, she rolled the body off the road. What Harris Global had been doing at this forgotten mine was another. Not that some eight-figure tax avoidance scheme was pertinent to the current crisis, but they were the third largest mining conglomerate in Australia, and a central strut in the creation of a resource stockpile. Harris Global would have to be warned and watched. But after she’d dealt with the Durham refinery. And that would have to wait until she’d served the last two warrants. And then, maybe, she’d be able to track down the serial killer.
As she neared the bus, she turned her attention to the tall aerial on the roof. Inside, she confirmed the antenna was for the partially broken CB radio. It wasn’t the factory-installed set, but a semi-portable device affixed to the dash with tape. The size of four bricks, and with more, older, tape, holding the casing together, it was a big set and a big aerial. She searched back to when Mick had woken her as they’d approached. They had to have been at least forty kilometres away.
Mulling over the possibilities, and whether their options had increased, she stepped off the bus and walked quickly back to the gate, and to the long row of parked vehicles.
Stevie and Kyle were carrying a single bag each over to the dozer, their free hands clutching long-handled picks. She ignored them since, though they were working slowly, they were actually working, and that would stop if they realised they had an audience. The door to the cabin opened, and PZ209 came out, carrying an armful of rusting shovels. She ignored him, too, and climbed into the first of the grey utility trucks.
Slowly she drove the truck through the gate and down, beyond the bus, parking just beyond the second of the wrecked cars. As she got out, she saw Stevie watching her, though he turned away as she walked back towards the gate.
He would be trouble. But if she could keep him active for a few more hours, then let him fill up on beer and food, he might sleep until dawn. Assuming his snoring wasn’t louder than the generator, and so a lure for the undead, he’d be no trouble until his hangover wore off, sometime tomorrow around eleven. By which time, one way or another, they’d be far away from here. That was the best-case scenario, but once she had the cars in position, she’d have to prepare for the worst.
If Stevie kicked off tonight, she could cuff him. Kyle, too. But they had to be kept quiet, so they’d have to be gagged. Come morning, they might have to run to the dozer, maybe even run as far as the utility trucks. Leaving the pair of men behind would be as certain a death sentence as the noose, especially if they were cuffed. It was out of her hands, of course. As long as Stevie made the sensible choice, he’d live to swindle, steal, bully, and cheat another day. Experience told her she was expecting a miracle; he’d never made the sensible choice.
By the time she returned to the row of parked vehicles, Kyle was carrying another bag to the dozer while Stevie had vanished.
“Think that’s enough blankets and coats, mate,” Tess said. “Can you find Toppley? Tell her all the diesel not needed for the generator should go in the back of the utes. And we’ll want the paint, and some of the clothes and tools down there, too.”
“While you put your feet up?” Kyle asked, his tone resent
fully bitter.
“I’m going to disconnect the CB from the bus. An aerial like that will reach much further than the set on the dozer. We’ll know when Mick’s on his way, and so know when to get moving.”
“Oh. Okay,” he said, mollified.
There was no sign of Stevie, which, no doubt, was the real reason for the man’s ire. Kyle was learning a lesson that was legend in the outback, that Stevie Morsten was the laziest man east of Woomera and west of Dubbo.
She drove the second truck down to the first, climbed onto the roof, and surveyed the horizon, then the mining compound. Had she brought the trucks far enough? Was it too far? The dozer would get them out of the compound, crushing the undead, but it wasn’t built for speed or fuel economy. Would it buy them enough time to decamp to the trucks? Probably. Five minutes. Give or take. Leaving the keys in the ignition would buy them a few more seconds, but was it worth the risk? No. She put them into her pocket, and returned to the bus.
With a protest from her increasingly tired limbs, she pulled herself onto the bus’s roof. The radio aerial was held in place with tape, with at least one entire roll wrapped along the roof, through the door on one side and out the nearly closed window on the other. The wire itself ran through a hole that had been hacked rather than drilled. Altogether, the ultra-crude installation gave a hint as to why the set had been able to transmit but not receive, and so, perhaps, might be a problem they could fix.
From the compound, a bag in both hands, Kyle was jogging towards her. Predictably, Stevie was nowhere to be seen.
“Good on ya,” she called out. “Dump those in the ute, then give me a hand up here.”
Removing the aerial wouldn’t be difficult, but she’d need to unplug the wires first. She walked over to the edge of the bus, lowered herself down, her muscles pinching with the effort.
“And once I’ve found the serial killer, then I’ll take a day off,” she said, stepping back inside. “Wait, no. No, I won’t, will I? I forgot about all that digging Toppley said was going on up in Darwin. I’ll have to look into that, too.” She disconnected the aerial, turned around, and found herself staring at the barrel of a gun.
Her own assault rifle.
Held by Kyle. Outside, on the road, five metres away.
Not just held, he was pulling the trigger.
Couldn’t find the safety, she thought, diving backwards even as he finally found the release. The gun roared. The shot went high. The bullet smashed through the glass windscreen.
Tess’s dive had taken her backward, into the long aisle which ran the length of the bus. With a kick and a squirm, she got to her knees, and got her sidearm into her hand just as Kyle found the automatic rifle’s selector switch. A burst sprayed the cracked window, shattering the glass. Bullets pierced the chassis, ricocheted off the bodywork, punctured the roof and shredded the seats. Tess crouched in the aisle, gun in hand. When the maelstrom ceased, she reared up, ready to take a shot. But she didn’t see Kyle. She did see the bulldozer as it smashed into the gate, the massive blade crushing the reinforced wire, ripping the pillars from the concrete. Movement, far closer and to her right, caused her to swing and turn. Kyle had run off the road, into the outback, and he still had the rifle.
Tess fired, but was sure she’d missed even before another burst ripped into the bus. Again, the shots went high. Kyle had misremembered or underestimated how high from the ground the bus’s floor was. But that didn’t stop her hugging it as bullets ripped through metal, raining glass down as the windows shattered.
When the gunfire ceased, she swung up, ready to fire, but again Kyle had vanished. Now it was movement to her left which caught her attention; which made her turn; which made her eyes widen in shocked horror. The dozer was still coming straight towards the bus.
She’d assumed Kyle, and presumably Stevie, wanted to kill her, take the keys, and drive off in one of the utes, but the bulldozer wasn’t slowing. If anything, it was accelerating, and it was only metres away.
The window behind her shattered as Kyle fired again. He wasn’t trying to kill her, though he’d no doubt rejoice in such a happy accident; he wanted to trap her inside until Stevie did the deed with the dozer’s plough. Shooting at that foot-thick steel was only a waste of bullets and time, and she was low on both.
In a crouch, she sprinted to the rear of the bus, just as the plough carved into the cab. The frame buckled. The bus spun, pivoting and turning even as Tess launched herself through the shattered rear window. She landed hard on the dry, packed soil, and rolled harder, yelling with pain and fury as the dozer continued on, pushing the crushed bus off the road. But still the bulldozer didn’t stop. She looked for Kyle, but couldn’t see him, and he wasn’t shooting. He must have jumped onto the tracked vehicle, which was grinding its way down the runway-road. The monstrous machine slammed into the abandoned car, flipping it onto its back before the plough smashed into the pair of utility trucks.
Tess raised her gun, and fired at the dozer’s cab, wasting a bullet on a shot she knew would miss. The dozer rumbled on, down the runway road, turning sharp right, shoving the cars before it as it swung onto the dirt.
Where were Stevie and Kyle going? Did they know? But one by one the cars spun beyond the plough, and the dozer picked up speed, driving west across the outback. Tess lowered her gun, and made her way back to the bus. The aerial was broken, and the radio was ruined. The utes were obviously wrecked. As was the gate, with the left-most support-post completely ripped from the ground and the right-hand gate now hanging by only one hinge.
“General Yoon was right,” Tess said to herself. “They’re as good as a tank.”
Chapter 11 - Inedible Carats
Humeburn, Queensland
Back in the cabin, with PZ209 standing guard by the door, Michaela held a light, while Tess carefully cleaned the blood from Toppley’s head wound.
“Your skull’s not broken,” Tess said. “But your scalp is gashed. You need stitches, but I was never any good at those, so I’ll glue it instead.”
“I can sew,” Michaela said.
“Are you sure?” Tess asked, sorting through the comprehensive, though small, med-kit Mick had left her.
“I make my own dresses,” Michaela said. “And I stitched a cut in my leg a year ago when I was out hiking.” She rolled up her leg to reveal a nearly straight white scar.
“Then have at it,” Toppley said. “After all, the worst that can happen is only death.”
“This will hurt, Toppley,” Tess said. “Can you stay still, or do you want me to hold you?”
“Teegan, please,” Toppley said. “And I have truly been through far, far worse.”
“Teegan,” Tess said. “What happened?”
“An old woman’s forgetfulness,” Toppley said. “I forgot men like Kyle can’t be trusted. I forgot to keep facing him. I forgot… Ow.”
“Sorry,” Michaela said.
“No worries,” Toppley said with a sigh. “He asked to see the gems. Said he knew they weren’t worth anything now, but that he’d never had much and wanted a token. A reminder that life could be different. He spun quite a sad tale about desperate poverty, and how he wanted no more to do with Stevie. I took him to the cabin where I’d found the opal.”
“Was it the office with the med bay and the dead body?” Tess asked. “I never searched it properly.”
“No, the cabin next door,” Toppley said. “It was a one-person dormitory cabin, yet with no nameplate. Everyone else had a printed nametag. Who wouldn’t? Someone important enough not to require one.”
“And someone who wanted no record of ever being here,” Tess said. “It was a bedroom?”
“And living room, much like the others,” Toppley said. “Except with a better standard of furniture. Kyle hit me when my back was turned, and took the rifle and ammunition. He must have assumed I was dead or he wouldn’t have left me alive.”
“That’s where I found her,” Michaela said.
“Where do we stand
now?” PZ209 asked. “It’s dark out there. The sun has properly set.”
“The utes are completely wrecked,” Tess said. “The gate’s gone. But so are two of our biggest problems. All I wanted from the bus was the aerial since the bus’s CB didn’t work properly. If we can speak to Mick before he lands, those extra few minutes will help, but we can cope without them. We’ll hear the plane not long after he gets into radio range. Besides, the construction machines will have a decent radio set. Teegan, you inspected those. Which is the safest?”
“For driving?”
“For sleeping in tonight, and maybe driving tomorrow,” Tess said.
“We’re still sleeping outdoors?” Molly asked.
“Nothing’s changed about the undead,” Tess said. “Although any zombies that were drifting through the outback will now be heading after the dozer.”
“We want the… the dumper truck near the crane,” Toppley said, wincing as Michaela sewed. “Other than an excavator at the other end of the lot, it’s the only machine with fuel. The dozer had barely a splash. I hadn’t topped her up.”
“That’s a fittingly poetic fate for the pair of them,” Tess said. “They’ll end up without fuel in the middle of the outback in the middle of the night. What about the generator, did you fill that up?”
“I did. We’ll have power until dawn,” Toppley said. “Assuming electricity is only being used here, of course, and not somewhere else on the site.”
“And where’s the rest?” Tess asked.
“Of the fuel?” Toppley asked. “Outside the office. Unless Kyle took it.”
“I’ll move them now,” Tess said.
“I’ll move them,” PZ209 said, pointing at the gun at her belt. “You can watch my back.”
Tess kept emotion from her face. She barely trusted Michaela, and certainly not this mercenary. “Good on ya,” she said. “But what’s your name, mate? I can’t keep calling you PZ209.”
He seemed to weigh his options before choosing his answer. “Blaze,” he said.
Life Goes On | Book 3 | While The Lights Are On [Surviving The Evacuation] Page 11