Diary of a Survivor 4

by Matt Pike

  A warm bed, cosy conditions in a room with four sturdy walls and some privacy - this is a temporary post-rock luxury we might not ever see again. That’s if we’re lucky enough to get to the coast before the Norwood crew discover we’re still pretty much under their noses. I mean, this whole thing could end very badly for us at a moment’s notice.

  If that did happen, Alyce and I have our bug-out plan within a plan. If Norwood find us before we leave and everything falls apart, we’re jumping on Phoenix and taking that hovercraft as far as we can go without looking back. Well, I say that, but the best destination I can think of right now is Goodwood. We had a brief encounter with a crew up there once when we were looking for trebuchet ammo and they were kind enough not to shoot at us. That makes them hands down the friendliest people I’ve come across post-rock. Plus, I’m pretty sure the hovercraft freaked them out - I’m still sure they thought we were aliens. Then again, that’s what I thought of them, with their dark clothing, balaclavas and green bandanas.

  Anyway, we’ve got a bag with two weeks’ worth of supplies at the ready, so we can get gone real fast. Not that I’m proud of this plan, but you’ve got to have No.1 on your mind. It’s weird. I don’t think I’ve thought this way once since I discovered the oval, well, certainly not since the early days when it was just Shane and I with an ambitious idea and varying degrees of trust. It’s almost like decay leads to more decay. First it was our borders, then our grounds and home, our people, our way of life - one by one, decay got a hold of everything. It was our own mini apocalypse.

  I guess a bit of decay is natural any time, anywhere. What’s that word… entropy. That happens. It’s an order of the universe that things don’t ever stay as they were. The end of something brings the start of something else and all that. But what we’re facing now - decay after decay - is too rapid to sustain. Even seeing the pace of its unfolding can lead to further decay. It changes the way you think. It leaves you desperate and on edge. I feel it and I hate it. I guess Alyce and I planning for a Plan B exit strategy is a part of that. But what do you do?

  Whatever, darkest thoughts. I need to shake them out. Sometimes they fall out onto the page. I guess it’s a healthy place to leave them. Just (and this is for whatever gods are watching on), we’re in this until we can’t be in this any more. The people of New Adelaide are our home - especially now - moreso than any location is going to be. Except the oval, obviously.

  This is all too much to process right now. How did I end up on this tangent?

  I’m going back into my delightful lull bubble. Alyce looks so spoonable right now.

  *

  Unless something changes during the next hour or so, it looks like our move will be on hold for tomorrow. It does give us an extra day to prepare, some time to haul the trebuchet carcasses back as well as time to figure out what to do with Jonesy, plus more time for Kelly’s leg to grow strong. On the flipside, it gives Norwood another 24 hours to stumble across where we are and potentially sink us once and for all, so there’s that.

  We can’t keep going on like this beyond today. Wherever this day leads, we have to make sure we’re out in the morning. So, we’ll need everything packed and ready and a Plan B to get the gear on the hovercraft without getting heard at the oval. That’s a big day in anyone’s language.

  *

  There’s mixed news on the Jonesy front, too. He’s looking a new man compared to when we got him back here. He’s been cleaned up and is filling himself with fluids. He’s also had a little bit to eat. It was so good to see him this morning. Hell, we even talked - yes, he has his voice back. He was a very thankful man but, like I told him, I know he’d do the same for me.

  The not-so good news is his leg. It’s, well, not really so much a leg anymore. I’m sure that with the right medical care pre-rock he could make the best part of a full recovery. But we have no skills, virtually no equipment and, well, Jonesy’s leg has no chance.

  We got some heads together this morning to talk through all the options. Which was really one option, with the complication of how we tell Jonesy about it. Of course, I drew the short straw. Yep, I had the job of telling a man we were going to cut his leg off. After hearing the news and bracing myself for a good few minutes, I went in to speak to him. There must’ve been something about the look on my face or the fact that I was visiting him for a second time in 20 minutes… anyway, I didn’t even get around to saying it. After we looked at each other, he said, “I know, it’s gotta go.”

  Well, that isn’t entirely accurate. There was a string of swear words on the end of that statement. But, he knew his fate. He also saved me the awkwardness of telling him.

  I told him I was going to get everything ready, when he said something bizarre. “Do I have time to say goodbye?”

  I’m sure I gave him a weird look before I nodded. I figure whatever a survivor wants to do to come to terms with losing a limb is exactly what they should do. I offered him an array of valium and painkillers - he took them all. Then I left him alone to say his goodbyes.

  He is a strange cat, Jonesy. I went outside to where the team was gathered for action - mouth gag, saw and enough assistants to hold a limb each. Then told them we should give him a minute. They all looked as bewildered as I felt - except Nate, who had drawn an even shorter straw than me to be holding the saw.

  Anyway, we could hear him talking to himself through the door - not really what he was saying, just that he was talking. I was happy to give him time - we all were. Until about 10 minutes had passed and we decided enough was enough and made our way in.

  There was Jonesy, propped up on the bed, looking at his leg for the last time attached to his body, deep in a one-way conversation. “Two weeks later we were in the preliminary final, do you remember? The Dolphins…. ex private school twats. Anyway you were on fire that day, remember? We didn’t really see much of it until the second quarter, but you dobbed two in two minutes to get us back within a goal, then scored another one before half-time to put us eight points clear. Must’ve been 55m out from goal and you roosted it. I just watched it sail right through the middle, halfway up the goalpost.”

  On he went, reminiscing with his limb about all the magnificent goals it had kicked in his amatuer football career. They lost that preliminary final, by the way. The leg didn’t seem to care about that as much as Jonesy. But as luck would have it, they got sweet revenge on the Dolphins in the grand final the very next season. Jonesy’s leg played a starring role, with five goals, including a pearler from the boundary line.

  As funny as that man is, and as much as everyone was enjoying the moment, once he’d run out of anecdotes a cold sorrow fell across the room. This was it.

  So, I’m going to skip over what happened next as it is seared into my mind as the most horrific thing I have ever seen. It was blood and violent pain all wrapped up in clumsy surgery and heartache. I positioned myself near Jonesy’s face. I wanted to be the voice there for him to ease the pain. That meant being the recipient of a barrage of swear words and the spittle that flew through the air with them, but that’s OK.

  Once the limb had been separated and the wound cauterised, he asked to see his former body part. The pain had taken most of his energy and all he could muster was a whimper. After he was done, the amateur surgery crew filed out of the room, leg in tow. Everyone stopped by Jonesy on the way out to praise his bravery. No other words were said.

  *

  Things were pretty quite after that. I knew there was no way to lift spirits, so the only solution was to keep everyone busy. And this was the day to stay busy.

  It was still early. Steph was already at the lookout. I sent Alyce out to join her. Given last night’s activity, we needed to be updated if there were any changes, and the only comms available to us right now was running messages.

  Laura and Eliza were going to stay with Jonesy and Kelly, while the rest of us were going to get the trebuchet parts back to the jail. With the extra numbers we should have plenty of time
before lunch and we’re going to need it. I’ve told them we’re leaving at dawn if conditions don’t change this afternoon.

  The only way we think we can make that happen is to haul all the supplies that won’t fit in one load on the hovercraft all the way down to the brewery. That way, when we start the engines, and leave the jail behind, we have everything either on board or waiting for us. That’s at least 1.5km, with everything we have, including trebuchet beams, in one afternoon.

  *

  It’s lunch. My arms are like jelly. Even picking up my food is a challenge. The good news is this is an early lunch. We managed to get everything back here by mid morning. So, a quick refuel and we began the task of humping our entire list of possessions down to the waypoint.

  Still, the reason we made good ground was repurposing the mail cart to help take the weight of the large slabs of wood. It still required people power so we didn’t crush the cart, but it lightened the load substantially and allowed us to take advantage of the wheels. Not that we’d cleared the roads all the way to the jail, but we had beaten a flat path in the ash on our main pathway.

  Nate and Mark are hiding the evidence of the path as we speak. Just the section between the hospital and Jail Rd (justifiable spelling change) - we doubt anyone will explore this far if they don’t see any signs of life.

  On the enemy front, they are really ramping up their activity today. Groups going out on foot and in cars - again the main focus seems to be the battle zone. Nothing headed our way yet, but we know it’s a matter of time.

  Also, the weather is closing in a little bit and the wind is noticeably stronger than it was this morning. None of which adds up to the cover we need to fire the hovercraft up and leave feeling secure we’ll go unnoticed but, between the weather changing and the activity at the oval, it’s getting closer.

  *

  Well, that escalated.

  It was slow going in the afternoon. That 1.5km stretch to the waypoint was a large mountain to climb. It wasn’t just the distance, it was the fact we were walking through virgin ash. I mean, once we were a few hundred metres west of the jail, we were tracking through ash untouched from the day it started snowing down after rock night.

  That meant the first run took the best part of an hour, and that was just with some of the lighter supplies that could fit in backpacks or tent bags. The thought of escorting a beam of wood seemed impossible at that point. Six of us took the trip. We were exhausted by the time we reached the waypoint, but buoyed when we realised how perfect a spot it was. There was a bridge across Port Road where the water from the River Torrens was running underneath once more. Well, it was more of a creek than a river, but it did stretch out as far west as we could see, pointing straight to our new home. Once down the embankment beyond the bridge, there were flat plains of ash either side of the river. Plenty of space to set up camp for a few days while we transported everything down to the coast. Best of all, the embankment formed a barrier between us and the world to the east - perfect protection to hide our noise.

  We dropped our gear and began the slog back. Far quicker this time without gear and the beginnings of a trench/path forming in the landscape.

  The second trip took about half the time and allowed us to drop the rest of the supplies not capable of a trip with the hovercraft.

  But that’s when the enormity of what still lay before us became clear. We still had the heavy lifting to do. There were 12 large beams from the trebuchets and eight smaller ones. There was no way the mail cart was going to be any help through the untouched ash, so we were going to have to haul it all by hand.

  The big beams were the most important. At the very least it was going to take three people per trip per beam. The only way we were going to get it done was to use everyone who could walk. Nate and Mark had done a decent enough job of covering our tracks from any view near the hospital, so I called them back, as well as Steph and Alyce.

  It was a scary move, but one we had to take. From that moment, we had closed our link with the city. At that point we entered our own little no-man’s land. Out of one world, but not in the next. There was an eerie vibe throughout the group.

  So, nine people on beam duty, with four long return trips ahead of us. Steph and Alyce maintained lookout back at base, while prepping the injured to leave, packing the last of our belongings and trying to hide every trace of our presence at the jail. Steph put up a fight about leaving, but the time had come. She argued hard that we needed eyes-on, but I also knew her argument gave her a chance to see if she could find Shane. At some point we had to call it. This was that point.

  We were already physically drained when we headed out on the first trip with the large beams. Thinking back now, I don’t know where we found the strength. That was everyone working together in extreme circumstances for their collective survival. Equally amazing was the change in spirits. With each step, a little piece of the eerie feeling fell away, replaced with hope. At least that’s what I felt. This was it. Like it or not, we were heading to a new beginning and a new world. These were our first steps into that future. Maybe it was something in all that which gave us the inner reserves to do what we did. I’m not sure, but now I think about it, it’s the closest I can come to an explanation.

  The only respite was the long haul back without a load. Nobody spoke much. I think it was a mix between exhaustion, focusing on the next haul and praying things would work out to plan and we could disappear off the grid without a trace. It was tense. The sun was reaching late afternoon and the weather was continuing to close in. Light was low, time was running out and the X-factor of the Norwood crew loomed large.

  There was an afternoon snack and drink stop waiting for us when we returned. After a 10-minute pitstop we were on the road again. Man, lifting that beam took every piece of willpower I had. Once in place though, gravity kept it there until the slug back to the waypoint was complete.

  It was about this time things started going pear-shaped at the jail. Steph spotted a couple of the Norwood crew walking the train tracks past the hospital. She stayed on them, hoping they would get bored and turn back or switch direction. After advancing almost to the west side of the hospital precinct, they did just that, until, that was, one of them caught sight of something of interest in the ash. Some footprints we’d missed, no doubt. They looked at the evidence, pondered their options, then headed west directly for the jail.

  At this point, we’d made the drop and had turned for the compound once more. As we did, some light rain started to fall. Oh for some two-way radios, but we didn’t own the command centre anymore. And our handheld units were long since out of battery.

  All of which put some pressure on Steph and Alyce. Engaging with the enemy was a last resort. Getting discovered was a worst case scenario, but there was a whole grey area around letting these two gather evidence of suspicion and leave. All of which must’ve been playing on their minds as they watched the enemy approach.

  Curiosity, and probably more signs of life, kept dragging the pair closer to the jail. It was nothing but open space between the hospital site and our location - they must not have realised they were totally exposed and under watch as they neared, since they didn’t draw weapons. Steph reckons she could hear them talking about the signs of activity they were seeing and their general agreement that someone was here in the not-too-distant past.

  Steph had substituted her rifle for a pistol by that point. It was one of the ones we had with a muzzle fitted. This was definitely an engage quietly situation. Just before the raiders got so close to the wall they went out of sight, Steph saw their demeanor change. One drew a pistol and both went silent. She wasn’t sure if they’d seen something specific or just started to register the potential danger they could’ve been in.

  By this time, Alyce had warned Jonesy and Kelly of the situation and all went quiet within the compound. There, the four of them waited in silence. Following whatever audible clues came their way as to where the enemy was. Knowing the nine of
us were returning soon, totally unprepared.

  Steph followed the sounds as best she could along the internal perimeter. Once they’d reached halfway around, curiosity got the better of them and they started to climb the ramp of tsunami debris that would give them a view over the edge. It was a fateful decision. Had they continued their circle of the compound, they would’ve seen the hovercraft and things may have played out differently. Instead, they climbed right into the courtyard area of their enemy’s compound.

  Steph pulled back at that point, knowing the others were well out of sight.

  The compound was as close to clean up as it was going to get, but there’s no way they didn’t suspect something had happened there recently. From that point it was kill or be killed.

  Steph waited behind a nook inside the entry to the main section of the building, a space they would be drawn to eventually. Sure enough, a handful of minutes before we returned, the two stepped into her line of sight, no idea she was in hiding behind them. The woman with the gun was downed first, the guy soon followed, before he fully processed what had happened to his comrade. Another two rounds were used as insurance to make sure the job was done.

  By the time we made it back there, Alyce was consoling Steph, the bodies remained in a pool of blood and we had ourselves a situation.

  Not the way you want to snap out of your exhaustion coma.

  It fell down to two options. You did a runner there and then, leaving the bodies to be discovered whenever Norwood tracked them down, or you moved the crime scene somewhere else. It soon became clear Option A wasn’t really an option. When these people didn’t show back at the oval at dusk, they’d send out a search party. Whether that was tonight or first light, they would soon track them to the jail and it wouldn’t take a detective to see our tracks heading to the waystation. That would be a disaster, as there’s no way we could get anywhere near all of our supplies to the coast before that happened. So, the choice became misdirection.