Life Goes On | Book 3 | While The Lights Are On [Surviving The Evacuation]

by Tayell, Frank

  “Good to meet you,” she said, inwardly marking him down as one of those types of mercenaries, the kind for whom a battlefield call-sign became an identity as much as a name. The kind running so fast from their past, it would take a hail of bullets to stop them, but, inevitably, eventually, that was how they all met their end. She’d met his type before, but thankfully, not often.

  Tess peered through the cracked and uncovered window next to the door, checking the shadowy, lamp-lit expanse of the car park. “Looks clear,” she said.

  Blaze opened the door. Shovel in hand, he went outside first. Tess grabbed a shovel of her own from the dozen leaning next to the window and followed.

  “You’re not drawing your gun?” Blaze asked.

  “Not until I have to,” Tess said. “For different reasons now than three weeks ago, of course. Then it was to avoid using it, or escalating a situation to the point where it’d have to be used. Now, it’s sound and ammo. Best to keep one down, and the other high. How did you end up in that uniform?”

  “Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong person,” he said, looking up. “And here I am, Down Under, where even the stars are wrong.”

  “Most people complain about the heat,” Tess said. “Met a bloke a few weeks ago who got heatstroke within seconds of getting off the runway. He was from the U.S., but close to the border.”

  “I’ve worked near the equator, I can handle the heat,” Blaze said. “But the different constellations, it’s like being on an alien planet.”

  “Most people don’t say that until they’ve met a bit more of our wildlife,” Tess said. “Do you see those lights? They’ve got an asphalt base rather than cement.”

  To provide the miners with night-time illumination, lamps had been rigged to the tops of wide-based, tapering scaffolding poles. The tallest were at the edge of the wide turning circle where the hanging wires were at most risk of being caught on a digger’s bucket or crane’s cable.

  “Is that important?” Blaze asked.

  “The asphalt must have been left over when they laid the runway-road,” Tess said. “In itself, there’s nothing too odd in that, but where are the road-laying machines? And why didn’t they bring any cement up here?”

  “Because they had all the asphalt, so why bother with the expense of hauling cement, too.”

  “If we didn’t know something illegal was going on, I’d agree with you,” Tess said. “But it’s an interesting detail, suggesting someone in their supply chain would notice when cement was missing, but not the machines and tar used for that runway as long as they were returned after use. It’s the kind of clue I like, the kind that gives a shape to the thinking that occurred before the crime. The kind of detail that leads to an informant, a witness, a suspect, and a conviction.”

  “You’d really investigate tax avoidance on a few kilos of black opal?” Blaze asked.

  “Nowadays? No, but the best yarns spin on the fine details.”

  Though the scaffolding was tall and the base was solid, the light shining downward was still weak. To their use of asphalt rather than cement, she added the dangerously criss-crossing net of overhead wires, and the number of broken bulbs in lamps that cast as much shadow as illumination. If she was looking for more evidence, she’d begin by finding out why they didn’t bring an electrician with them. More immediately, following Stevie and Kyle’s destructive escape, only one working light remained on the broken gate, casting questions on how close in the outback danger might be.

  “I might turn on the bus’s lights,” she said, as they made their way through the construction equipment. “If they still work, they’ll illuminate a bit more of the road. But it might lure the undead, leave them between us and the plane.”

  “How much diesel was in the bulldozer?” Blaze asked, his thoughts clearly on a different topic.

  “You mean will Stevie and Kyle walk back here tonight if they break down?” Tess asked.

  “We don’t want these lights to show them the way,” Blaze said.

  “Fair dinkum,” Tess said. “But it’ll show the way for the plane, too.”

  Small lights had been installed above the doors of the newer cabins, bright enough to read the nameplates, and to see that it was missing on the cabin outside of which a fuel canister had been dropped.

  “Only one fuel can,” Tess said. “When I saw Kyle heading towards me, he had a couple of heavy bags. Reckon the rifle was in one. Bet there was some fuel as well. That’s one question answered. If they don’t crash, they have no reason to return.”

  Another was answered inside the cabin. Curiosity, and a lingering suspicion of Toppley, had her push open the door. On the floor were eleven reinforced metal suitcases. On the desk was a twelfth. She opened it.

  “That’s a lot of rocks,” Blaze said.

  “Toppley undersold it,” Tess said, picking up an uncut opal the size of her fist. “Once cut, polished, these go for about fifteen thousand dollars a carat.”

  Blaze, who’d stepped into the partitioned bedroom, stepped back out again. “How many carats in a rock?” he asked.

  “It’s five per gram, I think,” Tess said.

  “So how many billions of dollars is there in a ton?” he asked. “Come see.”

  She walked over to the door. Inside the bedroom, lying next to an unused bed, was an obelisk. From the kaleidoscopic shimmer as it reflected the overhead light, it was black opal, and it was big. Over a metre long and half a metre in width.

  “Is that the biggest ever?” Blaze asked.

  “It must be,” Tess said. “But I think what was going on here was an issue of supply and demand. They’d found a seam so large it required multiple flights from an air freighter, but the value of black opal stays high because of its rarity. Announce the discovery, the value would plummet. But if they— Shh.”

  Her hand dropped to her holster as she listened. Beyond the bedroom, beyond the main room, from outside the cabin, came a sound.

  Footsteps?

  Glass shattered as a hand punched through the window, shredding skin as it reached through the broken pane. Tearing flesh as it barged face and shoulder into the splintered window.

  “Zombie!” she said, even as a second monster appeared in the doorway. She’d leaned her shovel against the door when she’d entered. Now it was out of reach. The zombie was too close for her to draw and shoot. Instead, she hurled the open metal case from the desk, flinging it towards the doorway. Unlatched, it spilled open as it tumbled through the air. The carrying case, hitting the zombie flat-open, did little damage. The uncut gems did even less, spilling across the floor, but they provided an uneven footing for the zombie’s bunny-patterned, soft-felt slip-ons.

  The monster toppled forward, sprawling, splayed. Arms and legs thrashed as it rolled into the stack of cases even as she grabbed the shovel from by the door. But Blaze beat her to the kill, stabbing his shovel downward in a two-handed thrust. The blade bit deep into the zombie’s neck. The creature bucked, legs jerking upwards as he stamped his boot on the blade, pushing down, decapitating the monster.

  Before the second zombie could come in, Tess went outside, shovel raised, and saw a third creature behind it. Two zombies. One in police uniform. One in close-to-camouflage. Both young enough they should have had more of their life ahead than behind.

  She swung high, a wild swing that missed everything but the doorframe as the arcing blow slammed into the cabin. She forced herself to calm, bringing to mind Broken Hill and the more useful of the stories from Singapore and Vancouver. She stepped back, swinging low, cleaving the shovel’s blade through the zombie’s knee. It toppled forward, hands outstretched, even as the other creature advanced, tripping on the thrashing creature. She swung the shovel up, then down, but it took four blows to finish them both.

  “Grab the fuel, Blaze,” she said, peering into the darkness. The lights around the cabins had been positioned to illuminate nocturnal excursions to the toilet block. They created too many shadows. But were those shadows mo
ving?

  “Back to the cabin, eh?” Blaze asked.

  “Yep,” Tess said, as she finally drew her sidearm.

  Chapter 12 - Dancing Penguins

  Humeburn, Queensland

  “The zombies are out there?” Molly asked.

  “Only three,” Tess said, standing by the cabin’s cracked window, peering outside. “And we only found one fuel can. But one problem at a time. The plan remains the same as before. We’ll head over to the dumper-truck and wait there for dawn. But we’ll eat first, if it’s ready?”

  “It is,” Molly said. “We can bring it with us.”

  “I want to wait here a few minutes,” Tess said, her eyes roaming across the shadows. “If there are more zombies, I want them out in the light where I’ll have a clear shot.”

  “Can you see any?” Toppley asked, coming over as Molly went back to the kitchen.

  “Not yet,” Tess said.

  “Your logic was flawed,” Toppley said. “Earlier, when you said the bulldozer would lure away the undead. It would only lure away those it was travelling towards. Those travelling towards it, towards here, would continue on until they came within sight and sound of us.”

  “That’s just what I was thinking,” Tess said. “It isn’t war, but it’s not a rescue effort, either. But I don’t know what it is.”

  “It reminds me of Selayar Island,” Toppley said.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Indonesia,” Toppley said. “But the reminiscence stems from the similarity in our situation rather than the geography. I’d arrived by flying boat, just myself and the pilot, meeting a rather skittish group of customers I’d traded with only a handful of times, and usually through an intermediary. We’d unloaded the cargo when an RPG hit the plane. My pilot was dead. My seaplane was sinking. I was stranded. The cargo was ashore, and my customers assumed I was double-crossing them, while I was absolutely certain one of them had to have been involved. Taking fire from all sides, my burning wreck of a plane sent smoke up into the sky, a beacon for their maritime security agency.”

  “I thought you were a jewel thief,” Michaela said, having quietly walked over with two bowls in her hand.

  “You move as quiet as a cat,” Toppley said.

  “It’s something every teacher learns,” Michaela said. “But why were they shooting at you?”

  “She wasn’t a jewel thief,” Tess said.

  “Technically, I was,” Toppley said. “When I was twenty I was charged and awaiting sentence for a theft from a jewellers. I was innocent, but a friend had stashed half of what she stole in my room. She denied it. The police believed her, not me. Awaiting trial, I took the other half of my light-fingered former friend’s ill-gotten jewels, and fled the country. Afterwards, I worked as a facilitator across the Pacific.”

  “Facilitating what?” Michaela asked.

  “She was an arms dealer,” Tess said.

  “And medicine, and other essentials,” Toppley said. “But yes, I sold guns, usually trading them for raw gems, which I’d resell to a processor, avoiding the hassle of laundering cash. Hence the reputation of being a jewel thief. It suited the journalists covering the story. Far more romantic than bulk-selling AKs and RPGs. Life is never quite as simple as fiction. The good are never quite as kind, the bad are rarely as evil.”

  “But sometimes they are,” Michaela said.

  Tess ate her bowl, watching the ruined gate. Previously, she’d identified the fence as the weak point, but now the broken gate offered the undead a far easier entry point. Assuming these new arrivals came from the outback. They could have crossed the creek. The undead who’d fallen to the bottom wouldn’t climb out, but how far did the creek extend? Were there other bridges? Had the gates on either side broken?

  “We’re ready and packed,” Michaela said, once more coming over, speaking low, her words a barely audible whisper.

  “Get everyone close to the door,” Tess said. “But no one’s going out there yet. There’s movement among the shadows.”

  “Zombies?” Michaela asked.

  “One or two,” Tess said. “And I think they’re heading to the generator because they’re not crossing the open car park to come here. I want to give it another minute before I’m sure.”

  With a clink and clatter, a rustle and shuffle, bags were gathered and everyone came to stand close to the door.

  “Okay, quiet now,” Tess whispered. “I’ll give a ten-count before we open the door. Teegan, Blaze, tell me what you think? Behind the dumper, are those shadows moving?”

  “Probably,” Blaze said.

  “Definitely,” Toppley said.

  “We’ll give it another minute,” Tess said.

  Blaze leaned forward again. “Why did the penguin dance in the desert?” he murmured to himself, though just loud enough to be heard.

  “Because she was scared,” Shannon said instantly.

  “You know?” Blaze asked, clearly surprised.

  It was such an odd exchange that Tess turned to look at the mercenary, then the teenager. “You lost me,” she said. “How would a penguin end up in a desert?”

  “It’s a song,” Blaze said. “About how fear can immobilise you. If we’re going out there, let’s do it.”

  “I thought I recognised you,” Michaela said, turning to Blaze. “You’re—”

  But before Michaela could finish, blood arced from her back, spraying over Molly and her daughter.

  “Down!” Tess yelled, pushing Shannon and Molly to the hard floor even as Michaela collapsed.

  As Tess rolled to her knees, and over to Michaela, her memory replayed the sounds her brain had been slow to process. She’d not heard the shot, but she had heard the sound of a bullet ripping through the wood, smashing into Michaela’s chest. Even as Tess reached down in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding, she knew it was too late. Michaela was dead.

  Another bullet slammed through the cabin’s thin walls. Splinters flew as a third smashed into the frame, causing the door to swing open.

  “Shut that!” Tess yelled as a trio of bullets flew through the open door before Blaze kicked it closed, but another trio of bullets caused it to swing open again. Blaze pushed a shovel into the gap between door and floor, wedging it closed. The next shot, a single, came four feet to the right, and one foot above the ground, missing Molly, now clutching Shannon, by less than a hand’s width.

  “Back behind the counter!” Tess yelled. “Go.”

  “It’s Morsten?” Blaze asked, as they took cover.

  “We’d have heard the engine if the bulldozer had returned,” Toppley said.

  “I saw a shadow by the dumper,” Tess said. “But I was expecting a zombie moving towards us or towards the sound of the generator. It must have been Kyle. Either Stevie left him behind, or the dozer broke down a few clicks away.”

  “So why is he shooting?” Molly asked.

  “Because that dumper is the only way out of here other than the plane, and I’ve got the keys,” Tess said.

  “How much ammunition does he have?” Toppley asked.

  “Hard to be certain, but he’s got at least a magazine left.”

  A bullet slammed into one of the uncovered windows, spraying glass across the floor.

  “I’ll cut the lights,” Blaze said.

  “Not yet,” Tess said.

  “There’s only one possible course of action,” Toppley said. “Surely you see that?”

  “I want to be certain there’s no alternative,” Tess said.

  “An alternative to what?” Molly asked.

  “Finishing it,” Tess said. “He’s got the assault rifle, and I’ve got a pistol. The dumper is as good as armour, but he can’t get a bead on us while we’re back here. His only escape is in that dumper, or aboard the plane, but in both cases, he needs us dead. Both for the keys, and to avoid witnesses.”

  “We can give him the keys,” Molly said.

  “Yep, and if he asks for them, I probably would,” Tess said. “But he
must know that if we get out of here, he’ll be reported. Within a few weeks, we’ll have a description of him in every settlement across the country. If Mick arrives and we’re all dead, he can create a new life elsewhere. Once he’s sure we’re pinned down, he might try to burn us out, or he might wait for the zombies to come in. Either way, he’ll have to kill us before dawn so we don’t want to give him time to prepare.”

  “It reminds me of Cambodia,” Toppley said. “I’ll tell you that story later, but the conclusion to draw is that Kyle killed Morsten. Your pilot would, on finding the bodies, notice that Morsten’s was missing. Your former nemesis would get the blame. It will be his description that goes up across the outback.”

  The door shook as a bullet slammed through it.

  “Teegan, will the generator last until dawn?” Tess asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Blaze, get ready to cut the lights. Teegan, you’ll need this.” She handed the old crook the handgun and the spare magazines.

  “What are you going to do?” Molly asked.

  “I’m ending this. Teegan, fire a few shots at him. He was by the dumper. Say ten shots, spread over three minutes, then wait a minute. Fire one more every minute. When he stops firing, that’s when I’ve made my move. Everyone else, keep quiet. Kyle!” she yelled. “Kyle. What do you want?”

  A bullet came in reply, but only one, into and through the wooden walls.

  Tess crawled across the rough boards, over to the selection of tools rejected as weapons earlier in the evening. A short-handled pick designed to be swung one-handed had a point on one tip, a chisel-blade on the other, and rust coating everything between. To that she added a chisel and a hammer.

  “Are you sure about this?” Molly whispered.

  “No worries,” Tess said. “He’s a young fool, and I’m an old cop. I’ll head out the back, and make my way around to the vehicles. It’ll be over in minutes.”

  Another shot came through the walls.

  “When you’re ready,” Toppley said, crawling away from the bar towards the front door while Tess moved towards the rear wall.