by West, Mark
After turning over each box to ensure she has the best use-by date possible, Amy begins shovelling boxes into her bag. When it is full, she checks the locked door situation at the back. The sign reads ‘Pharmacist only’ and there is a small electronic keypad off to one side, suggesting this is where they keep the prescription only medicines – the hard stuff.
Amy removes the jemmy from her bag again and stabs it into the narrow gap between the door and the metal jamb. She pulls back on it, but the door doesn’t budge or show any signs it will. She looks towards the front of the shop, knowing she has overstayed her welcome. She can come back later.
Retracing her steps, Amy moves back through the store, double-checking the shelves for anything missed, and leaves a few minutes later – satisfied.
Following the row of shops for a few hours, Amy manages to find the essential items she has desperately been looking for. Her new bag is now full, packed with clothes, sunnies, shoes, a hairbrush, toiletries and even a hat. It’s been an enjoyable day, Infected-free except for the horde that nearly ate her. But as she rounds a corner on her way to the Mantra for the night, she hears the distinctive moan of an Infected.
A small boy, no older than eight, orange as a pumpkin and with stocky legs, is limping down the footpath in her direction. He spots her within seconds, and despite his limp begins sprinting towards her.
Amy is still holding the jemmy bar and draws it back, striking him in the gut. There is a loud thump, and the child falls to the ground, head cracking on the pavement. Amy mumbles an apology with little remorse. She has learnt to deal with the Infected equally, no matter what age, and knows if she doesn’t, she won’t survive.
Something patters along the street causing Amy to spin. Another child is running towards her, a girl this time, roughly the same age but with bright pink hair.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
Amy pulls free the bar and swings it, hitting the girl across the jaw and splitting her mouth open. The girl tumbles back across the bitumen, grazing her skin as she comes to a silent stop.
Two more kids then emerge from a building across the road. Amy contemplates running, but the kids seem fast: too fast for her. If only she had bullets. She drops her bag, takes a defensive stance and draws back the jemmy bar, bracing for impact.
The first child arrives within seconds, hungry and intimidating. He is much thinner than the last two, with bony cheeks and twiggy arms. But that doesn’t diminish his intensity. Amy fakes a swing, anticipating the child’s movements, and Rambo boots him in the chest. Something cracks and the boy is launched backwards onto the road – alive, but hardly moving.
The girl, larger, taller, pimply faced and seemingly a few years older than the others, dives for Amy. The jemmy bar is brought around and hits her in the arm, causing her to stagger. The girl finds her footing and lunges again, grabbing hold of Amy’s shirt and pulling feverishly.
Amy pulls back, desperate for the child to let go, but her grip is like an iron clamp. The girl is so close, Amy can almost taste the foul, fishy breath from her rotting mouth. She decides to punch the girl in the face. The girl’s head jerks back, but it’s not enough to make her let go.
Fearful of her ferocious jaw, Amy grips a hand behind the girl’s neck while angling the tip of the jemmy bar towards the girl’s face. The child tries to resist, but Amy is much stronger. In one fast motion, she yanks the child’s neck, plunging her eye onto the fork of the jemmy bar, penetrating the socket. She repeats the action, driving the bar deeper and deeper into the brain until finally the child’s grip goes slack.
As the body falls to the ground, one of the other Infected kids stumbles to its feet, eyes red with revenge. Amy stomps towards him and kicks him in the face, shattering his teeth. The throbbing in her back has been agitated again, pissing her off. She needs rest.
It takes a little while for Amy to calm down. When she does, she decides to get changed, tossing her bloodied clothes in a bin. She scans the skyline. In the distance, she spots the Mantra poking up between two buildings. Its sign now missing a letter ‘A’, no doubt fallen off into the city below.
Not far now.
Amy has only taken a few steps when she hears a deep rumble. The sound is low and dull, causing windows to vibrate around her. She runs to a bus shelter, ducking out of sight just as a truck rounds the corner.
The enormous tow truck’s headlights are blinding, its titanic wheels crushing everything in its path as it rolls past. Normally used for towing heavy vehicles or machinery, this one has been fitted with six canvas-covered cages.
On top of the cages is a man standing guard with a rifle. The man is lanky and wearing a dirty brown long-sleeved top and a baseball cap that obscures most of his face. Amy can’t see the driver behind the tinted glass, but her gut is telling her they aren’t friendly, so she holds her position.
The man thumps the hood of the truck with his gun, signalling the driver to stop. ‘Hold it!’
The truck slows, air hissing noisily from the brakes, and comes to a standstill only metres from Amy. She gasps, wondering if she has been spotted, and shrinks further from view.
The guard is looking back down the road behind the truck. Amy looks and notices another teen sprinting from a building. She is near-naked and no more than sixteen years old. She looks hungry; they all are.
The man raises his rifle and shoots. The gunfire is loud, so loud it bounces off the buildings and seems to reverberate forever. The teen hits the pavement, and everything goes quiet again – too quiet for Amy’s liking. More will be coming, she just hopes it’s not while she is exposed.
‘Haha! Got you!’ the man calls out. He thumps the hood, pleased with himself, and the engine rumbles into life.
The truck moves sluggishly forward, passing Amy at a turtle pace. The canvas doesn’t completely cover the cages, and Amy can see into one at the back. It moves out of view and Amy is forced to commando crawl to the other side of the shelter, pushing past scattered rubbish for a better look. She peeks out again.
There is a woman in the rear cage lying on her side, foetal position, with one hand resting outside the bars, eyes closed. There are blood stains across her face and through her dirty, brown hair. She looks like hell.
Amy’s gut twists in recognition.
Victoria?
Amy scans the rest of the cages, searching for Jackson. But, from what she can see, they are empty. Her attention turns back to Victoria, with her still body and her limp arm that sways with the movement of the truck.
Is she dead?
She steps out from the shelter and begins to follow the truck, careful to stay out of view of the man’s vigilant eye. She needs to know. She needs to find out if Victoria is alive.
The truck begins to gain speed and Amy finds herself jogging. It passes through a couple of backstreets before turning onto the main road and heading north.
A few minutes later, the truck is lost in the distance, powering along the highway.
‘I’ll come for you, Victoria. I will find you again.’
Amy tightens the straps on her bag again and sets off to find a bed for the night.
But first, I must find Jackson.
Chapter 34
Jeep
‘It’s beautiful isn’t it,’ Eden says, peering out into the distance.
‘Sure is.’ William rubs a thumb across his injured hand.
The pair are sitting on the hood of a beat-up Jeep, its sides covered in a spray of mud. They are on a hill just outside of Byron Bay, looking at the sun reflected in the expansive waters of the ocean. The view is astounding – one of the most awe-inspiring moments of William’s life.
‘It’s nice up here,’ Eden admits, giving William a reassuring smile. ‘Quiet.’
William nods, yet he knows they can never be too careful and assume anything. He glances behind; something is always watching.
His eyes follow the line of trees around the small car park. They have shut the gate and secu
red it with a chain they found in the Jeep, hopeful it will deter any unexpected visitors. There is a single bitumen road that winds to the top along the edge of a steep cliff that falls away to jagged rocks: one way in and one way out.
William turns his attention back to Eden and her shimmering eyes. She is smiling, however hours before it had been a different story. Well, more a nightmare than a story. He looks down at his injured hand, now bandaged with a sleeve from his shirt. A spreading line of blood stains the fabric. He had been lucky to escape – they both had.
They had been wandering along the highway when a group of Infected emerged from the trees behind them. At first, it was just a few, but over the next hour, the group grew into frightening numbers. He knew it wouldn’t be long until a runner joined the mob, or one of the hulks.
Ten minutes after picking up the pace in an attempt to expand the distance, a runner bolted from the trees like a maniac, its arms whirling propellers.
‘Run!’ Eden shouted, her face panic-stricken.
William gripped his bag and began pumping his legs, following a screaming Eden. The road was long and narrow, just one lane in each direction with trees growing right up to the shoulder – no escape except forward.
‘Where to?’ Eden had panted, keeping the pace.
William was gasping for air and could hardly speak. ‘Just … keep running.’
The pair sprinted for what felt like ages; the runner always less than fifty metres behind them.
‘Look!’ Eden pointed to a blob of colour at the side of the road in the distance. ‘What is it?’
As the pair approached it gradually took the shape of a Jeep.
‘Get in!’ William screamed.
Like most cars William had come across since the infection had arrived, it had clearly been abandoned in a hurry – doors open and keys in the ignition. They dived in and locked the doors behind them.
‘Does it work?’ Eden asked, throwing her bag into the back.
William turned the key, surprised when the dashboard lit up and the engine rumbled into life. ‘Holy shit! It works!’
‘Drive then!’ Eden shouts with urgency.
William’s hands fumbled about with the controls, which reminded him of a video console. He’d seen his father drive enough times but had never paid much attention.
How hard could it be? I just need to find the—
Something slammed into the back of the Jeep. The pair turned in horror, to see an Infected, face hard-pressed on the glass. It lingered at the back window, staring and scowling as it crept towards the front like a spider, its fingers tapping on the glass.
‘Go!’ Eden screamed in terror. She was gripping the seat in a way William thought she might rip it out.
William's hands shook as he held the wheel, one eye on the Infected creeping past his window. He pressed down on the accelerator. The engine roared, but the Jeep didn’t move.
‘The brake!’ Eden pointed towards a long stick in the middle of the console.
He released the brake and pressed his foot back down. The engine revved again and they rolled a little, but the Jeep still didn’t take off.
‘Why aren’t we moving?’
More hands were banging on the Jeep. More faces at the windows. They could be Halloween masks, but William knew they were real. The first of the horde had arrived. It wouldn’t be long before the body of the horde caught up and they were surrounded, making it impossible to leave. They’d be trapped like mice in a barrel.
The Jeep rocked side to side. Fists pounded the windows and doors. Eden was crying and gripping a kitchen knife close to her chest. William’s head was spinning with panic. He pressed his hands against his ears and closed his eyes, trying to recall his father driving.
Keys, brake—
‘That’s it!’ William’s eyes shot open. ‘The gear selector!’
William peered down at the gear selector. A ‘P’ was glowing bright green. He gripped the stick and clicked it backwards to ‘D’ and put his foot back on the accelerator. The Jeep lurched forward, knocking over an Infected with its unexpected lunge and jolting William and Eden. Eden’s knife slipped from her grip and sliced William’s hand.
Eden screamed at the sight of his blood. ‘Your hand!’
William was too hyped on adrenaline to focus on the pain. He knew if he didn’t get them out, a small gash would be nothing.
‘Just see if you can control the bleeding.’
Eden retrieved the knife from the footwell and used it to cut a strip of material from the bottom of her shirt. She wrapped it around his hand.
‘That should hold it,’ she said, keeping the knife away from William.
Blood seeped through the thin cloth as William grabbed the wheel with white knuckles.
‘I’m going to try that again. Hold on!’
He pressed back down on the accelerator, mindful not to push down too hard. The Jeep began to roll forward, the Infected clambering at the sides as if trying to hold it back.
‘We’re moving!’ Eden cheered in delight.
The Jeep came to a slippery stop, the back wheels spinning wildly, mud shooting up the sides.
‘We’re stuck!’ William jerked the wheel, yanking it left and right. ‘It won’t budge!’
Sticky mud continued to flick up the sides, caking the windows in sludge, hiding the Infected.
‘I don’t know what to do!’
Hands streaked the windows in filth as more Infected gathered around the Jeep. They began rocking it, pushing it from side to side as the wheels continued to spin.
Eden spun frantically in her seat. ‘There are too many!’
William was relentless on the accelerator. The engine roaring, yet they barely moved, always slipping back due to the angle of the verge. But William did not want to stop. He wouldn’t give up because if he did, it was all over.
Searching for a solution, his eyes fell upon a small button to the right of the steering wheel and partially hidden by it. On it was a drawing of four wheels with lines behind and 4x4 below. He had seen this logo on his video games.
He lifted his foot off the accelerator. Eden shot him a wild look.
‘What are you doing?’
William pressed the button. ‘Trust me!’ He clung back onto the wheel. ‘Hold on!’
Eden grabbed his leg and squeezed.
‘Get us out of here, Will!’
He jammed his foot back down on the accelerator. The engine revved and the wheels spun. Then something clicked and the wheels gripped, shooting the Jeep out onto the road. The pair were thrown back in their seats. But William didn’t ease off. He kept his foot hard to the floor until they were safe.
‘Do you think we will get there tomorrow, Will?’ Eden asks, watching out across the ocean.
William opens his eyes, putting the last few hours to the back of his brain. He never wants to remember the panic he felt ever again.
‘We should. Tank’s half full. It can’t be more than a two-hour drive.’
He moves his hand to his leg, feeling the bruise from Eden’s grip.
‘Sorry, Will.’ Eden is staring down at his leg. ‘Does it hurt?’
William moves his hand away and shakes his head, giving her a reassuring smile.
‘Nah. It’s nothing. Honest.’
Eden smiles sheepishly and leans her head against his shoulder.
‘I’d be dead without you. You saved us.’ She tilts her head up and kisses him on the check. ‘I owe you.’
William’s face burns. ‘Nah, it was nothing,’ he says, embarrassed. ‘Just doing what anyone would do.’
‘Anyone else would leave,’ Eden interjects, turning to face him. ‘And they have before. But not you. You’re different.’
The pair stare at each other before William breaks eye contact. ‘It’s getting late. Perhaps we should move into the Jeep?’
Eden winks at him. ‘Well, that was fast.’ She giggles.
William realises what he just said. ‘Oh, wait … n
o. I didn’t mean—’
‘Get a grip, William.’
She slides off the mud encrusted bonnet. They are both filthy and haven’t had the luxury of a shower in weeks.
‘Not until at least the third date,’ Eden adds with a wink. She opens the back door and slips inside.
William’s jaw is set on open. He uses every bit of strength to get it shut, then follows her inside.
What will tomorrow bring?
He shakes the thought away. He needs to get through tonight.
Chapter 35
Pink caterpillar
Victoria’s head knocks against the side of the steel cage. She opens her eyes groggily and groans, rolling onto her back. Her eyes blur in and out of focus until they take in the mesh of the cage.
Where the hell am I?
She crouches onto her knees in a panic, running her hands up and down the metal grill. Canvas covers the top and sides, obscuring her view except for the back. She crawls to the rear of the cage and gazes out at the tall buildings shrinking away in the distance. Someone calls out above her.
Through a rip in the canvas, Victoria spots a figure swaying with the motion of the truck. She quickly scans the cage for a weapon, but all she can see is a bottle of water.
‘Wakey, wakey.’
The figure above her is peering down. Victoria clutches the cage in terror. Her head is foggy, and a pain is lodged behind her eyes, pressing them forward. The man’s voice is cold and certainly not friendly. It sends a chill through her.
‘Who are you? Where am I?’ She has so many questions.
The man chortles. ‘Almost home darling.’
‘Let me go!’ Her voice crackles in her throat.
There is more derogatory laughter. ‘Good luck with that.’ He stomps his foot then turns and walks away.
Victoria opens the water and takes a sip, hands now trembling with fear. There is a loud hiss and the vehicle begins to slow down. The next moment it rounds a corner and she is thrown unexpectedly against the side of the cage.