Diary of a Survivor 4

by Matt Pike

  In the meantime I did have a thought of the day. We had talked this situation up as a giant game of Texas Hold ‘Em poker. Good hand or bad, pile of chips or not, we were all at the final table, playing games that would decide our future - or even our survival - one way or the other.

  The coming winter and food were the flop - the first three open cards everyone had to meld with their hand to make something worth bettering on. Then we had the turn and the river cards - the final communal cards that set the scene for battle.

  The turn - well, that turned out to be a turncoat. Whether it was Zoe and Kent turning on the Fat Man and his crew, or whatever has happened to them since - the turn. The river, well, that was the epic storm that changed our hand in the game completely - a torrent of water - the river.

  The turn card was a turn, and the river card was a river.

  And now, here we are.

  Hmmm.

  *

  The light had well and truly set in for the day when I saw the first signs of the Norwood crew. A jeep drove down from the oval, making its way into the grounds of Government House. A group of four got out - all armed. Two did a sweep of the complex, while the other two continued on in the car until they’d completed a run up and down North Tce. Then they got out and did the same run again, this time on foot.

  As they passed my location, it became very real as to how close I was to both my enemy and the prospect of things going south very quickly. Still, they didn’t really look up.

  I switched between looking at them through the scope on my weapon and with my naked eye. The scope is great for detail. You can pick up so much you wouldn’t get with eyes-on observation at the distance. It’s hard to keep doing it, though, as you find yourself losing perspective on where you are. Toggling between the two gave me the best of both worlds.

  There were plenty of references to redlegs on their chatter and the red markings on their uniforms were quite striking. It’s all a reference to the Norwood football club, nicknamed the redlegs. I can totally see why they’re using it. It does give us a really good visual way to spot the enemy and to distinguish their radio chatter from ours. I couldn’t help but think that could be an advantage come the craziness of battle.

  As for the guards, I got enough from what I saw to know they seemed pretty sure all was quiet. They seemed relaxed, with the initial sweep seemingly more about their process than any real reaction to a perceived threat.

  The biggest worry was the one who had taken up a position in the King William St/North Tce guard tower in their new complex. He wasn’t really looking my way too often, but every now and then, he’d take a step back from the boredom of guarding nothingness and scan the world around him further. I knew he’d be the reason I wouldn’t be able to feel safe or get comfortable all day. Still, it probably wasn’t a bad thing as it kept me alert and on edge.

  I definitely saw his gaze wander past my direction a couple of times. He didn’t double take, didn’t even flinch. It just confirmed I had nestled into a good spot.

  It wasn’t too long after their perimeter sweep that their workers were marched into the Government House grounds. They were divided into three separate crews. One group was dealing with the ash on the grounds, one went inside, while a third spent their time moving objects down from the oval to their new HQ.

  Clearly, the move was imminent.

  The two-ways were really busy for a while around that. But it wasn’t much more than day-to-day logistics.

  I saw both Shane and Trav amongst the crews. Shane was on the team lugging gear from the oval, while I only got the briefest glimpse of Trav as he headed into the complex - on inside detail. That was some mixed emotions, right there. Tears welled up seeing them alive, but my heart broke at their circumstance.

  Each group had a couple of minders watching them from behind the barrel of one weapon or another. For the most part, it was the workers giving full compliance without much instruction. It seemed to me like they knew what was required of them, while also knowing that saying anything about it was a really bad idea.

  The one exception was one of the outside crew’s guards. He was barking out instructions the entire time, not afraid to have his weapon in his hands to emphasise a point. A couple of times I saw him point his gun at people. I felt for the crew under his control and was glad neither Shane or Trav were a part of it.

  I wasn’t sure where that guy fit into the Fat Man’s food chain, but something told me he was a higher rank than most of the others around him. I resisted the temptation to click the trigger as I watched him though the scope.

  I didn’t see any sign of Kent or Zoe. I’m not sure what that meant in the greater picture, but more than a small part of me was expecting them to be there. One of the shipments from the oval was a load of saplings and plants, making me think Kent was still doing what he does best, despite not being able to reach us, for whatever reason. Or maybe I should be worried that he wasn’t there for the important part of the relocation.

  The grounds were huge. While there were still large areas that remained covered in ash, they had cleared a significant amount. It had been used to build up the walls around the place. There was also enough room within the grounds to park a Norwood-sized fleet of vehicles with room to spare. I couldn’t believe how much they’d managed to do in a short space of time.

  I could only imagine the inside was similarly advanced.

  As much as I don’t like the Fat Man, the Norwood crew he leads or what they have done to others in this world, I couldn’t help but admire their industrious capabilities. For every reason they are different to us in how they operate and what they’ll do for survival, their output can never be questioned.

  They build fast. They adjust to changes around them and find a path forward with all the nous we do. Except, there’s more of them. With that comes hands to do the work and people with skills that can be used in this world. They can adapt quicker than us, to a wider set of obstacles. It’s scary.

  Where we work together for our single vision of the world, their’s comes from the mind of one man, it would appear. I have always been scared of the Fat Man, Norwood and what they can do. Seeing them rebrand the city in front of me was further sign of that. Knowing we would soon be striking them at the heart of their operations, doubly so.

  I watched that industrial machine work well into the afternoon, with only a short break for food and water for the workers. Then it happened.

  There was a lot of chatter on the two-way about the flag being on the move.

  A fleet of four cars headed down from the oval and pulled up into the new compound. This was definitely a serious contingent of Norwood heavyweights. The gun-wielding guy ushered the workers in the grounds to line up against the outer wall and face away from the action, with his usual subtle persuasion. Seconds later, the crew that had been inside all day, except for their short lunch break, were marched out and lined up next to the other group.

  Once they had everyone where they wanted them, the cars started emptying of people. All heavily armed. Each car seemed to have one of the heavyweights, with the support crew being super military about each action. Some of the underlings aimed their weapons at the workers, while others walked alongside the big players, offering further protection. Once the leaders entered the house, the security-type ones turned their attention back to the fleet.

  It was only then I realised the third of four cars in the line had not unloaded.

  When it was surrounded by the security team a door opened and the Fat Man got out. Well, I couldn’t see his face, to be fair. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, shades, had his collar up and a scarf covering his face, but it was him.

  My heart skipped a beat just seeing him again, let alone trying to work out what he was doing there. Then Zoe emerged from the other side of the car. My heart skipped another beat. In fact there was a brief moment when I wondered whether it would start up again.

  I tried to focus all my energy on observing as many details as I c
ould, and saving the theorising for later. That was not easy.

  Security surrounded the Fat Man and he was escorted into the building. Zoe followed, one of the underlings following very close behind her. I think she might have had his weapon trained on her, but it all happened so fast after the Fat Man move I can’t be sure.

  Then everything went quiet. Those in the yard stayed lined up against the perimeter ash wall, Norwood guns trained on them. Every now and then the loudmouth gun-waving guard would say something, but that aside, nothing happened.

  I was left to catch up on what had happened, what was happening and what that meant for a battle only two days away. Part of me thought the move might’ve just happened right in front of me, but something told me that wasn’t right. Not the way they were treating those in the yard. It didn’t make sense.

  As for Zoe, well, that was a hard call as well. I don’t even know enough about her and her role/station in the Norwood group to know if this was normal behaviour. I mean, I would’ve thought she would’ve mentioned having a direct line of contact with the Fat Man, had she had one, which clearly she did. Why wouldn’t she say that?

  Was she there under duress? I thought probably, based on what I’d seen, but everything happened so fast and I was processing so much, well, I just couldn’t be sure. The hardest piece of the puzzle to put together was why she’d travelled in the same car as the Fat Man. It didn’t add up. At all.

  I’d come down here for information, but in every way this was leaving me with more questions, suspicions and doubts than any answers it provided.

  Just over half an hour passed until the dignitaries exited Government House, under the same overzealous cover as they had entered. The Fat Man was last to return to his car, again surrounded by so many others he was barely visible.

  As he stood over the opened car door, ready to get in, he looked out over the grounds, then beyond. He looked up. He looked at me. Well, I’m sure he didn’t see me, otherwise I wouldn’t be here writing these words now, but it sure felt like he was looking right at me for a good few seconds.

  I looked back at him until he turned his focus to the car. He looked in a lot of discomfort as he entered. Once there, Zoe was ushered into the same car again, sharing the back seat. Then the convoy did a loop of the yard and headed out the grounds and back to the oval.

  Once the last of the cars had disappeared from their view, the workers were herded back to where more hard work awaited, as if nothing had happened.

  The labour continued well into the afternoon, the crews finally marched back to the oval as the light began to fade. Shortly after, the security teams did their final checks of the grounds and the perimeter along North Tce before they, too, returned to the oval.

  I waited on the roof for another 15 minutes or so to be sure, before I made my way down to street level again, and began my return trip to Phoenix. Luckily I felt I knew enough about what was going on at the oval to know I was in no danger on the walk back. It allowed me to concentrate my energy on my thoughts, after one short pitstop.

  There was a lot to process. What I’d seen, where we were headed and how what information I’d gathered could help. What to make of the Zoe thing. What to make of everything, really. That’s not even to factor in the Goodwood crew and how on earth we were really any chance of coordinating something so big and unknown with so little time to organise and so many unknowns yet to face.

  I was soon on my way back through the parklands in darkness, guiding my way with torchlight as I needed it. I heard Ye-jun’s voice as I neared the pick-up point. Asha was with him. As I jumped onto Phoenix, she jumped off and prepared to make the same trip I just had.

  She’d be in for a long and quiet night up there, with plenty of time to think. Hopefully tomorrow would bring more news and details to back our approach on. But I suspected it would be a fruitless exercise.

  As we travelled, I filled Ye-jun in on all the details I’d seen in the city. He returned the favour, giving me details of Steph’s visit to Goodwood.

  They had gone back to find out how Maria and her team had gone with recruiting other groups. Their response seemed a little more like hope than assuredness. Then it was down to the logistics around how to get the entire Goodwood crew into the city for dawn on battle day.

  Again, they have their concerns. Not only with the logistics of getting their entire population to the city by dawn, but facing the threat of their badlands without some fancy hovercraft transport to get them through. Then there’s the fact that now they have told the other groups around them, they have left themselves completely open to attack while they’re gone.

  In their way, they have risked it all as well. That’s what’s dawning on them now. By following us and making their move with the other groups as we’d asked of them, they had essentially pushed all their chips onto the table. Except, they hadn’t. There’s still a chance they could not come. Even if the long-term effects of that play might doom them, the short-term risk we are asking is a lot. Maybe it’s too much. I guess we just have to hope they reach the tipping point, where they get too far down the line for any other way forward to make sense, despite what any other group may, or may not, do to them while they’re away.

  The funny thing is, I’m not sure we are there either. I mean, there is still a chance, when we talk through all the new information we’ve gathered today, it all becomes too hard to push forward on this, even though we’ve committed. I mean, I still have massive doubts, so everyone else must be feeling the same.

  There’s a lot of hope in all this. Hope for a shared future, without much communication or little in the way of guarantees, yet so much risk on the line. We’re expecting others to reach this point of commitment, like, 100 percent total commitment to a situation when we can’t even say that about ourselves.

  The event horizon - that’s what they call it. It’s like this point-of-no-return moment. Maybe the storm has brought us to the edge of it, but I’m not sure if we’re actually there, beyond the words. That is to say nothing of our connections, or beyond that.

  I guess we’ll only know whether other groups truly reach their event horizon when they’re standing with us at the Central Markets, staring at the sunrise, two days from now.

  That really is a scary thought.

  *

  It was a big night by the fire tonight. We had a whole lot of new information to absorb and we really had to decide whether we were far enough into this thing to reach our critical mass. Sure, we’ve been here before, in a way. In many ways, really, and at many times. But this was it for us.

  I mean, we’d committed to this fight, but now we had so much more knowledge. It was definitely up for discussion.

  There was no going back after tonight. One way or another, we had to put all our chips out there. If we pushed them in on being a part of this Zoe and Kent plan to reunite the city, then tomorrow would be preparing and positioning ourselves to attack. If not, our scramble Plan B rebuild would have to come together pretty fast.

  We thought of it all - every angle we could imagine, every betrayal we could foresee, every contingency for every outcome we could imagine, all the risks, all the prices we might pay. We thought of them all. We argued, we strategised, we put it all on the line in that conversation. I mean everything. This was the very essence of what it was to be a survivor in this world. The totality of facing the end, or committing yourself to a decision that would lead others you love to their own demise. Mortality. Death. Absolutes.

  In the end, there was too much driving us to the city. Despite the risks, the doubts, the lack of clarity or any guarantees for support, this was our moment to change the city. The DNA that made this group of people who we are, had no choice. The gains were so much bigger than what we were risking.

  And we were risking our very souls.

  This was who we were. This was the world we wanted. That was the price we were willing to pay to get there.

  We stood in a circle as we made our commitment
to each other - again - absolutely. We looked each other in the eye, pushed our chips into the centre of the table and crossed the event horizon.

  We were in.

  We were going to war.

  *

  The weight of it all hit home as I lay in bed with Alyce later. This could be our last night together. I’m not sure either of us knew how to fully process that. We certainly didn’t do it with many words. Just the connection of bodies spoke more than anything we could say could ever get near to in a moment like this. We just held each other tight as our thoughts, doubts and fears danced around us. While we were touching, they couldn’t get to us. Nothing could - not in that moment.

  One thing this messed up world has taught me is how to love. I doubt I would’ve found that in a world where the rock didn’t hit. Not like this. This was its own power - a tangible force of nature. Strong enough to push every dark thought away as they gathered together in a whirlwind around us.

  Love.

  I have known love.

  True love.

  I’m not sure if that’s going to make me invincible when shit hits the fan in just over 24 hours from now, but damn, it sure felt like it would in that moment with Alyce.

  And if I don’t get so lucky, you know, if it’s my time, well, I have this moment, I have this love. From where I sit, that’s a fair price to pay. It’s an even deal in the life of a survivor. Better than that, really, it’s a win.

  I mean, we’ve all got to go at some point. That’s not really a negotiable. What is, is the things you do with the cards you’re dealt. God knows, I’ve had my share of shit ones during the last year. Yet I could lay there next to Alyce and weigh-up my whole experience as a win.

  Love.

  Hell, it’s even more than that. I have survived my ass off. Seriously, everything went through my head as I lay there. It wasn’t all about tomorrow, it was where I had come from and what I had done. Phoenix, the oval, all these amazing people I now trust as family. That’s some seriously master-level surviving right there. It was enough to bring a smile to my face and get my eyes a little moist, wrapped in Alyce’s body in the darkness.