by Matt Pike
Survival made me strong - well, strong enough to keep going. Hopefully it did the same for them. Not sure what else besides Jack lessons I could bring to the table to help anyway. I don’t do religion - I didn’t grow up that way and this is not an ideal time to go for my yellow belt, or whatever you do. So, survival it is for me - nothing else I’ve tried has come close. A very healthy system of beliefs and rituals that, hopefully, give me some key to understanding this world. I guess I’ll deal with the next world later.
As we neared the first, well technically last, fallback point from battle night, it dawned on me the weirdest part of my current fellowship. These rookies I was with - lost and helpless - were the closest people to my age I knew in this world (besides Alyce). Jessie was maybe five years younger, Angie about the same older. Yet, I felt… an age different. And also protective.
I don’t know how they were keeping it together. I don’t even know how I was. I guess we were just all on a quest of understanding and pain. And each step we took on that quest brought us closer to things we knew we wouldn’t want to see, or deal with. At the same time, we were drawn there - little iron filings in the ash, drawn to a magnetic pole of pain.
Angie was doing her best to keep herself together, but she was heading into answers you wouldn’t wish on anybody. This place was the last time she’d had any contact with Marci. We knew whatever answers we’d find here would be life-changingly hard.
I also knew Jonesy was with her when whatever happened, happened. Jonesy was one of the closest people to me in New Adelaide. He was a seriously strange cat (as my friends and I used to say pre-rock). It would be hard to explain him other than to say he was the perfect sort of weird for the end of the world. He was a master mechanic, that’s for sure. A game-changer in that regard. Add in his obsession with ancient weapons and his gift for making concepts come to life, well, it was just… as close as you could get to genius post-rock. Probably the sort that would get you on a police watch list in the past, but this world was his time.
We reached the door of the building. It was hanging open and broken, riddled with bullet holes. I examined the scene not really sure what I was looking for… maybe just processing… and bracing for the worst. I looked at the others. Angie’s expression was one I’ll never forget - some sort of saddened acceptance of soon-to-be pain. Eventually, she nodded. I returned the signal, then did the same with Jessie. Finally I opened the door.
It was dark inside and I flicked on my spotlight. A stairwell greeted us, heading up. The ground was dark and patterned. It took a few seconds to realise it was dried blood. Same things on the bannister and stairs.
“I need someone here to keep an eye out. You can both stay, if you want to.”
They looked at each other. Jessie letting Angie make the call. She froze for a moment before saying. “OK, OK, I’ll come.”
Then she let out a deep breath.
I think the OKs were her way of convincing herself she had it in her to see what probably awaited.
I looked at Jessie and asked him if he was going to be OK on watch duty - he nodded. Then I turned my attention to the stairs.
My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. Blood trailed all the way up to the landing. There were two closed doors, but the blood continued up the next flight as well. I followed. When I turned to face it I saw a body. It was an adult male. Straight away, I thought it was Jonesy, but it wasn’t. Norwood crew, no doubt. There must’ve been some bloody close range shootout here.
I moved past the body without too much thought then did another lap of stairs until I was facing the final flight to the lookout point. The bloody trail remained. I couldn’t tell if it was more or less than lower down and I’m not sure I was ready to analyse it at that point. I was just preparing myself for whatever waited on the other side of the door. And how I’d help Angie deal with it.
The door opened but only slightly - moving back and forward in ways that made it clear the windows in the room had been broken and the air pressure was causing havoc. I turned to look at Angie, just to make sure she was ready. She breathed in heavily again, then nodded.
My concern for her had somewhat blocked my own mind from what I might be facing and how it would affect me. Distraction focus. I eased the door open. Well, I tried to until it hit something. I knew it was a body - something about the thud.
I turned to Angie, but the look in her eyes said no further explanation was required. I focused on the door again, gripped the handle in one hand and the frame in the other, then leaned forward with everything I had. It didn’t budge. It was open far enough to tease a look inside, but not far enough to get my head through the gap.
I took a few steps back then charged, giving the door a nice hip and shoulder bump. I think I rattled more than the door, but I did feel something give on the other side. I repeated the dose and this time something moved beyond. Who knew my very average footy skills would come in handy in the apocalypse. Now I had a gap large enough to squeeze through. There’s not that much of me these days, which helped.
Once through I turned to tell Angie to wait, but it was too late, she was already squeezing herself into the room. I quickly turned my attention to the body near the door, hoping to hide the worst of what she might see.
It was only then I realised it wasn’t Marci… or Jonesy. It was some middle aged guy, greying hair and a chest full of blood and entry wounds. His body, which must’ve been slumped against the door for days, now lay on its side. It was totally unnatural and rather off-putting. I stepped further inside, as I scanned the space for our missing. There was another body by the window, from where our crew would’ve been firing down on the enemy - but, again, not one of ours.
It stunk. I haven’t mentioned that yet… but it seriously stunk. The smell of death had been trapped in there for days. Once we realised our people weren’t there, the odour started ripping at our nostrils with complete ferocity. Our tolerance was only going to be seconds, not minutes.
I doubled over the scarf on my mouth, then set about finding as many clues as possible to what might have happened while taking as few breaths as possible. I must admit, between the smell and the bodies and not finding what we’d expected, well, I did not have my Sherlock Holmes going on. In fact, once I was sure there were no other bodies, I just wanted to get out. I did give them a frisk for weapons though, in a bid for something constructive. But it came to nothing. In fact, there were no weapons in the entire room. Once I realised, I was out of there.
I joined Angie outside. Even then, I knew I’d be washing the smell off my body for days.
While she didn’t smile, I knew she was buoyed by the discovery. As was I. Once I mentioned the weapons situation, between gasps for air, I definitely saw the corner of her mouth lift a little.
We were soon on our way down the stairs again. This time with some context around the blood on the rails. We didn’t say anything, but shared a look revealing we knew that blood was likely from one of ours.
Once we reached Jessie I had an overwhelming need for fresh air. I stepped out the door and spent a good minute catching my breath and my thoughts. Angie joined me and Jessie followed, asking what the hell we saw.
After I collected myself and shuddered out the gross, I told him the general gist of it. Mostly, that the blood on the stairs probably led to where Marci and Jonesy were. He was straight back in the door and looking for clues. Angie followed and I wasn’t far behind.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to realise the blood trail led to the door and, once outside, it disappeared. We checked inside, then out. Analysing the details and hand smears on the blood inside, then going outside - nothing. Back in - more detail. Back out - nothing. Even when I got my face to ash level there was just nothing.
I widened the search, sending the others down each side of the building, while I crossed the road, looking for any signs of life... or blood... or anything. After what must’ve been at least 10 minutes of unrewarded detective wo
rk, I called everyone back.
There was a hollow feeling in the air. We now knew Jonesy and Marci had gotten out of the lookout alive, yet they were MIA and there were no signs of them beyond the door. There was a pulse in this search, but I had no idea where to turn next. I asked the others and got nothing that was a direction worth pursuing. Meanwhile, our light was fading and we had other discoveries to make.
As much as it hurt, I had to move us on to something more productive. If I had something - anything - that made it worthwhile to stay I would’ve. But I didn’t. Instead, our hopes of a meaningful moment would remain MIA. I told the others we’d come back through the area on the way back, but at that moment, we needed the last of the daylight to head to the southern front.
Then I saw the look on Angie’s face. In fact, on both of their faces. Jessie needed to be by the southern front and Angie needed to stay and search. So as much as it made more sense to stay together, there was too much on the line to deny them what could be their one chance to get answers.
Light was already starting to become a factor. We knew we’d have to hustle. We made the walk to the southern front in about 10 minutes, the cleared streets helping us no end. It was probably a good thing for Jessie, too. Unlike Angie, he knew what he’d have to deal with when we reached the site of the trebuchet at Pulteney. There was no point delaying the wait.
There wasn’t much chatter along the way. I let Jessie prepare himself. When the burnt out trebuchet frame was in sight, he let out a long sigh. I asked him if he was OK, he nodded.
As we neared the scene, you could make out the bodies in the monochromatic landscape - shapes in the ash. Well, that’s not entirely a good description - you could make out the remnants of charred people, in the same position as when their life ended. So human, but so not. So someone, but not. Jessie stopped moving forward to take in the scene. I asked him if he was OK again. He nodded and said, “This was where I was when it happened.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just put my arm around his shoulder. What do you say?
Eventually, I asked if he wanted me to go and check the bodies. He shook his head, sniffed back tears, then headed forward. I followed a step or two behind. Between the ash, the bodies and the remnants of fire, it was all lifeless.
The first body he reached was his dad’s - Ashleigh. It was charred with burns and his hair was all but gone. Jessie went in to, well, I don’t even know what Jessie went in to do. I don’t think he did either. He kneeled next to the body, put out his hand to make contact, then paused. That’s when the tears started. He wailed, eventually pressing his face into his dad’s shoulder. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to support him and wear some of his pain but, at the same time, I knew this moment called for space. As hard as it was to watch, something told me this moment - the hardest of moments - was best faced alone.
After what was probably not much more than a minute, but felt like 10, Jessie started to roll the body over to see his dad’s face. He was struggling between tears to get enough momentum so I moved in to help. I put my hand on his shoulder to let him know I was there, then knelt in next to him. Together we got it done. Ashleigh had burns around his ear, neck and the side of his face, but you could still recognise him. Although the expression he left the world on was not one I’d see before - death doing it’s best to add more pain to its power.
Once again, Jessie was wailing, this time moving to touch his dad’s face. Once again, I left him to have some space.
I turned my attention to the rest of the scene. Jacob’s body wasn’t too far away but I didn’t want to disturb the scene before Jessie got there. I knew time was becoming a factor and we had to rendezvous with Angie while there was still time to search for whatever happened to Marci and Jonesy. But there was no rushing Jessie - this time was his. It was not for me to take it away.
I felt a bit useless and wanted to make every second count. All I could think to do was climb our former ash wall defence and see if I could make out the bodies of Diane and David in no-man’s land. I couldn’t help but think how doomed our plan was when I did. We had so much border to defend with so few. Perhaps we were always doomed. I reached the top and looked out over the former battlefield.
We were losing light and it would’ve been a stretch with the weather as it was today to see the bodies in full daylight, but it was all I could think to do. When I got to the top, I turned back to see Jessie kneeling over his brother. A fresh howl of grief followed seconds later. Then I left him to his moment and turned to the vague sea of ash and death on the other side of the wall.
As predicted my side mission was a waste of time. But I didn’t know which side of death was better at that moment. Jessie staring it in the eyes. Or Dianne and David, silently laying in their forever position in no-man’s land. If I wasn’t thinking of them in that moment as I searched into the darkening beige, I knew no one in this world would be.
Heartache or silent anonymity? That’s all I could think about. But part of me already knew my answer. As hard as it was to see and hear, Jessie’s wails and heartache would win every time. Life should always win. Memories - that’s all we have. It might be messed up, but in that moment I remember thinking, Ashleigh and Jacob had this love - this raw love - that would be taken beyond this moment. They would stay alive in Jessie as long as he was capable of memories. And while he might not be thinking any of those things while he embraced his brother, I knew the power of that thought. It had gotten me through so much. It was doing so again now.
I knew these moments had the power to break me, though. If I didn’t line up those thoughts in the right way, this whole world could unravel pretty fast. At that moment, I made a promise to take Jessie under my wing. Whatever I’ve learnt to get me this far through what I’ve faced, well, some of it might help him too. We’ve only got each other here. That’s not just about surviving and thriving - it’s also about finding purpose when all the purposes you thought gave you the resolution to stay alive are taken away.
I knew Jessie would have to rebuild himself when the grief started to lose its choking grip. I wanted to be there for him - that would be the biggest battle of his survival. Same went for Angie. I thought of her alone in the darkening ash, searching for Marci. It was time.
I climbed down and walked to within a few metres of Jessie and Jacob. Jessie looked up at me through red eyes and I nodded to him. His kissed his brother on the forehead then walked towards me. I opened my arms and he threw himself in, burying tears into my shoulder. I kissed him on the head and just let him let it all out.
When his soul had given all the weeping it was capable of, I whispered, “You ready?”
He sniffed in some tears and nodded.
With that, we left. We couldn’t give the bodies the respect they deserved with a burial - things were too tense in the CBD and we didn’t want Norwood getting a sniff we were still active. Their memories would get an appropriate send-off when the time was right, but their bodies would be left to the conditions.
It was another quiet and brisk trip back to the last fallback position. The light was really getting dim at that point, but I didn’t want to use the torches until it was virtually dark. When we returned, there was no sign of Angie.
We looked back in the building, called out (quietly), even climbed the stairs again - nothing.
Not ideal. In fact, slightly worrying.
The light was running very thin by now. I wasn’t really sure what the best way to track her down was. Part of me wanted to stay there, knowing she’d return - if she could - but part of me was feeling something wasn’t right and wanted to go out after her - without raising Jessie’s suspicions. We could’ve covered more ground if we split up, but I really didn’t want to do that.
I decided we’d go for a lap of the block first. It would give us a quick loop, hopefully allow us to spread our eyes and ears as far as possible, yet leave us close enough to the rendezvous point we’d hear if she returned.
W
e were nearly at the other end of the buildings when we heard weeping. It was Angie.
We tracked her down within a minute. She was in the remains of a door frame, half the facade of the building above gone - leaving the floors of office space exposed. She was knelt over a body - it was Marci. She had been shot, several times, and there were bullet marks in the building frame behind her. The picture of the two of them - the stance and everything - was the spitting image of Jessie and his brother from a few minutes earlier. I put my arm around his shoulder as we approached.
Angie looked up through puffy red eyes, tears collecting the muck in the air to create a sad brown mask across her face. We both moved in to embrace her. As her crying escalated, we just held on tighter.
We couldn’t have been there that long, but the next time I looked up we were almost in darkness. My thoughts turned to Jonesy. If Marci fell here, there was a fair chance he wasn’t far away. I kissed Angie and Jessie on the head, flicked on my torch and headed in through the door.
To my left the building descended into rubble, but things weren’t so bad on the right. It was all tsunami damage, but there were bullet holes as well. Something went down here, presumably after Marci had fallen.
So now it was my turn to grieve. Not that I’m comparing my relationship with Jonesy to the others. We weren’t family, or best friends, but we were survival tight - and that’s about as tight as tight can get. With the emotions already in overdrive, well, like I said, it hit me.
I scanned the space. It was some sort of waiting room for whatever business this was pre-rock. This seemed the most intact part of the building, yet big chunks of the ceiling were missing - you could see straight through to the plumbing and cabling and, in a couple of spots, through to the floors above. This place wasn’t safe and I was glad I wasn’t hanging around long. I looked behind the counter, back through to a kitchen area, then down a corridor and through five offices - nothing. No signs of a fight, either. I pulled back out to the lobby and tried to imagine the scene from Jonesy’s perspective. He’s seen Marci get shot at the door and, judging by the amount of bullet holes, there were either a lot of people after him or a few with some serious weaponry.
