What to do now? He wondered whether he should walk back the way he had come, towards Bill. Everything Leroy had lost was replaceable, but what Bill brought was companionship and strength, even if he was on one foot. The man seemed honourable. He had abandoned whatever personal goals he had to help out people he barely knew. Such a trait was unfamiliar amongst the people Leroy had known in the old world. Still, returning to Bill would be admitting he was wrong. Though it probably didn’t matter. Bill was likely gone by now.
In the distance, he spotted an infected hobbling down the main street towards him. Leroy thought he had two options; find a weapon and push on or let the thing approaching finish him off and concede defeat to the thieves who had taken everything. With the thought of turning into one of the infected inconceivable, Leroy began to scan the area around him for something to defend himself with.
As he searched, the grumble of a motorbike floated to him from far away. Leroy forgot the weapon and tried to work out from what direction it was coming. As the sound grew louder, he realised it was coming from the same direction Leroy had driven. Perhaps it was friends of the people who had ambushed him come to finish him off. He ran to the Landcruiser, snatched up a twisted length of metal and stood beside the vehicle, ready for whoever might appear. He wouldn’t go down so easily this time.
It was Bill, of course, with nothing more than the blue jeans and black vest he’d been wearing when Leroy had abandoned him. The bike was big and bold, all chrome and shiny black. The noise was deafening, probably because the world was so silent now. Bill pulled right up next to him, put the kickstand down and leaned the bike onto it. He turned off the engine and Leroy silently cheered.
“Sure beats walking,” Bill said.
Leroy asked, “So what’s your plan?”
Bill looked away up the street. The infected was closer now, perhaps a hundred yards away. “We go see some of my comrades from the motorcycle club. We get their help and then we go and rescue my friends from these assholes.”
“Motorcycle club?”
“Yeah,” Bill nodded. “They’re a good crew. They know how to handle themselves in a fight.”
“What then—after you rescue them?”
“No plans yet. Maybe find a safe place and wait this thing out.”
“How can I refuse?”
Leroy climbed onto the bike and strapped on the spare helmet as Bill rode off.
22
January 11, 2014
6:20 pm
Mole Creek Army Base, Central Tasmania
“What are you? Crazy?” David asked, his red, chubby face wrinkled with disbelief. “Cause you’d have to be bloody crazy to go in there, mister.”
“I’m desperate,” Mac said. “What if my wife’s in there?”
“What if she’s not? It’s a big risk to take. I don’t think you realise what’s inside that fence.”
“Trust me, I have a very good idea.”
“You go in there, you may not get out.”
“Tell me again, in detail, where these people are holed up.”
David looked at Mac for a long moment, and then sighed. “I guess it’s no skin off my nose, though I’d hate to see these little ones lose their daddy.”
“Appreciate the concern. I know I’m risking a lot, but I’m trying to get their mother back.”
Taking a stick from the ground, David found a clear space where the yellow grass had died away, leaving fine grey dirt. He began to mark out a large rectangle shape. “This is the outer perimeter. And in here, you’ve got a number of tents—five, I think there is. You can see two of them from here.” He marked smaller squares in various locations. “Our tent, where the people are, is here. Number three.” He made a cross in one of the squares, three tents from the entrance. “But there were other people in the one next to us, number two.”
“Any others?”
“I’m not sure. The first and the fourth tents are destroyed. They’re basically not erect anymore. But there were people all over the place yesterday. I guess they have to be somewhere.” Mac nodded, understanding.
Smitty loaded up on shotgun shells from the back of Ken’s Nissan Navarra. Mac took the M4, working on the assumption there would be some .223 rounds inside the facility. Ninety percent of the ADF personnel weapon systems, including machine guns, fired the same rounds. There had to be some inside. He tied a sheath to the waist of his pants and from a small case, he took a long-bladed knife and stuck it in the cover.
Mac asked Shelli to sit behind the wheel of the Nissan as a contingency in case anything went wrong. She agreed to the plan but still had to ask. “Sure you have to go in, Mac?”
“Yeah. I need to know, either way. If it’s too chaotic in there, we’ll come straight out.”
She gave him a tight, nervous smile. Mac reached in and squeezed her hand. He stuck his head into the back seat and kissed both the kids, promising he’d be back soon. They wore blank looks, and he worried that if they had to go through any more of this shit, it might do some lasting damage. Mac promised himself that as soon as they found Jess, they had to find somewhere to hole up for a few days, give them a chance to refresh. Put some normalcy back into their lives.
“Drive away if you and the kids are at risk,” he said, stepping from the side of the car. “No heroes.”
“I will. Promise, Mac.”
The kids gave Smitty a flat smile as he winked at them. “Be good.” They nodded.
A dozen infected remained at the entrance. Triple rows of razor wire topped the fence all around the perimeter, meaning they would not be able to climb over it. Mac had another idea. He moved everybody away from the entrance gates then consulted with Smitty.
“Make a commotion further along the fence and draw them away from the gates. Don’t shoot any, though. We don’t want every infected inside coming here.”
Smitty approached the fence, stirring the interest of the infected, and slowly coaxed them along until he was about twenty-five yards away. All except one had left. That was good enough for Mac.
He withdrew the chain holding the two sides of the gate together and opened one edge. The infected came at him. Mac used the butt of the M4 to smash it in the nose and it fell into the dust. He called for Smitty, who sprinted along the perimeter and reached the gate, where he closed both and looped the chain through.
Inside, dry grass crunched underfoot as they moved along the eastern side, hugging the perimeter. They saw plenty of infected, who were too preoccupied with feeding on the dead or fighting amongst themselves to notice Mac and Smitty.
The plan as Mac had described it was to cut left into tent number three—the one from which David and Meryl had come. Looking at the magnitude of infected floating between the buildings, he wondered how the couple had managed to avoid getting caught and killed.
They reached the first tent, where Mac and Smitty pulled in with their backs to the canvas wall. They were on the back side where the thin outline of a door greeted them. It looked secure, as though it hadn’t been used before.
In a soft voice, Mac said, “Is anybody inside?” He waited. No response. He tried again, this time louder. “Can anybody inside the tent hear us? We’re armed military personnel.”
Nothing. “We have to get around to the front.”
“We’ll be seen.”
“Maybe.”
Mac led the way, crouched over, to the corner that was exposed to the bulk of the infected. He peered around the edge, expecting to find a mass of them.
“Clear,” Mac said. “With me.”
Mac maneuvered around to the front of the tent where a set of wide flaps, secured in the middle, greeted them. He tried to open one of them, but they had been fastened from the inside. He worked his way down the length of the join but couldn’t find a place where he could open it. No surprise. He would have done the same thing.
“Hey in there!” Mac called. “Let us in. We’re here to help.”
A muffled voice sounded from inside the ten
t. “We can’t hear you,” Mac said. “Open up.”
“Who’s there?”
“Special Operations,” Mac said, making a face that told Smitty he didn’t know what else to say.
“Are you infected?”
“We are not infected.”
Movement and noise started from behind the tent flaps, and then the face of a middle-aged man, thinning hair, narrow face, and glasses appeared. He looked Mac and Smitty over, then at their shotguns and beyond them to the clear space.
“Where are the zombies?”
Mac shrugged. “It’s clear for now.”
The man began untying the flap. When he’d finished, a gap opened up wide enough for Smitty and Mac to slip through.
The air inside the tent was stifling, like an indoor swimming pool centre. As Mac’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw a number of people huddled in different areas. The tent appeared to be primarily medical, containing several beds and numerous steel cabinets plastered with the universal Red Cross on a white background. The people stared at him with hopeful looks. He scanned the faces, looking for a match with Jess. Immediately, he could not find her, and a knot of panic began to form in his gut. The second thing Mac noticed was that nobody appeared to be ill. He finished a second scan of the area by walking between the tables and beds and to the far corner where one of the groups of people sat, then approached the man who had let them in.
“I’m looking for a woman named Jessica. About so high,” he held his hand up at a five and a half feet, “slim build, with blonde hair.”
He shook his head. “No, I don’t recall anyone named Jessica looking like that.”
“What about Jess?” He was stretching it.
The man shook his head again. “Sorry.”
The knot in his gut tightened. Mac thought about Tyler asking him to bring his Mom out of there.
“There’s another tent,” the man said.
At first, Mac didn’t register what he had said. “A what?”
“There’s more people in one of the other tents. She might be there.”
Another tent. David had said there were five tents, but two were trashed. There was hope.
A noise sounded from the front section of the enclosure. A short scream came from one of the ladies. She was babbling—Mac couldn’t make it out. A teenage kid with fine orange hair and a face full of pimples came directly to Mac.
“They’re back.”
The infected. “How many?”
“Heaps.”
Mac made his way between the twenty or so people towards the front entrance, as people moved in a huddle to the centre of the tent. Another man pulled the flap back a few inches so Mac could see out into the open.
The infected were everywhere, like a crowd at a music festival. It amazed him that only a handful of minutes before, he and Smitty had made their way through the area without much trouble. He wondered what had drawn them away and then back to this tent. Could it be that they moved in a large group? He recalled the way they had moved back at the school in Latrobe, and thought there was more to it for consideration later. Mac stepped into the tent. They would need to use the back flap he and Smitty had discovered earlier.
“What are you worried about?” one of the men asked. “You’ve got guns. Shoot your way out.”
Eyeing the man, Smitty cleared his throat. Mac said, “We start shooting those things unnecessarily you’ll have every infected thing in the place at our doorstep. How does that suit you?” The man said nothing. “We need to get these people out before this place becomes a smorgasbord.”
“I’ll try and get that flap at the back open,” Smitty said.
Smitty disappeared as Mac waved everybody together. “Gather around, people,” he said a low voice. “The choice is yours, of course, but we’re leaving this tent. If you’d like to come with us, we’re happy for you to come along. Once we’re outside the facility though, you’re on your own. If you’d like to stay here, it’s your call, but I think it’s only a matter of time—”
“Is it any better out there?” the thin-faced man with glasses asked.
“Outside the tent? Or the world beyond?”
“Both,” a middle-aged lady with dark-red hair said.
“There’s risk everywhere you go. I’m not sure there’s any place safe right now. But I don’t think staying here is the right option, either. If you can find yourself a vehicle and get someplace where it isn’t so populated, you’ve got a chance.”
Smitty appeared. “We’re good to go.”
“All right,” Mac said. “We’ve got an exit point at the rear of the tent for those interested.” Mac turned to the man with glasses. “I suggest you loop up the front flaps again so nothing can get it in and close up this door after we’re through. Maybe even turn a table over and use it to blockade the exits.”
They assembled in the back corner where Smitty had opened the flap. “Wait out until I give the all clear,” Mac said. Smitty nodded.
Mac slipped through the opening and out onto the short grass. The back end of the tent had been a good choice; the field there was clear of bodies and free of infected.
He lifted the flap of fabric and poked his head back inside. “On me.”
People began filing out of the tent. Mac ushered them to a point about four yards from the structure, where they stood in a growing circle. Even soft words sounded loud and Mac had to hush some of them.
When the ones who were leaving were all out, Mac pulled Smitty aside. “I want you to take these people to the gates. If the infected are still hanging around, shoot them.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to check that other tent. Just to make sure.”
“I’ll come with—”
Mac put out a hand. “No, mate. This one’s on me. You’ve done enough. Get them out safely, and I’ll meet you there soon.”
“Ack.” Smitty turned away, then back. “Hey, Mac, I heard one of the ladies mention that a group had gone to Port Arthur. Something going on down there. If you don’t find her, maybe Jess is down that way.”
“Maybe.” But Mac wasn’t holding out hope.
A cry came from within the group. One of the kids lay on the ground and another boy stood over him, reaching down to grab the scruff of his shirt. One of the ladies told them to stop fighting. The scuffle continued until an older man grabbed one of the kids by the collar and dragged him off.
When Mac looked up beyond the front of the tent, several infected had been alerted to the sound and had started shuffling their way, their rotted faces alive with eagerness.
“Move,” he said to Smitty.
Smitty launched into action, raising his shotgun slightly as if to give them encouragement that he had control of the situation. “Follow me, people. Let’s be quick on our feet.”
“Hey,” Mac called out as Smitty started off. His friend turned back. “Thanks, mate.” Smitty nodded, then turned and jogged away.
23
January 11, 2014
7:22 pm
Just outside Derwent Bridge, Tasmania
Two other vehicles were parked at the pumps in the fuel station as Darren turned off the minibus’s engine. The others were already climbing out. Charlie gave Tammy an ominous look as he followed them. Tammy was expecting the worst. But even if Shane took some of them with him, she would still have Darren and the minibus. Hopefully Charlie too. The three of them could make it to Port Arthur. Still, surely he wasn’t crazy enough to leave the group. There was always strength in numbers.
There were eight pumps in total and not an infected in sight. Again, like most of the fuel stations near a town of any size, it was owned by one of the multi-national oil companies and adorned in their green, white, and yellow colours with a large BP sign. The sliding glass doors had been opened and some people were stocking up on supplies inside the store. Others were checking their loads, filling their vehicles with water or putting air in their tyres.
A man with greying
hair and jowls under his chin approached, leaving behind a station wagon with a trailer and a wire cage stuffed to capacity.
“Howdy.” The man wore long brown shorts, a plain polo shirt and a worn blue peaked cap.
“G’day,” Darren said.
The man looked at Tammy. “Aren’t you—”
“Yes. Well, I was, anyway.” She smiled. “Where are you headed?” She was hoping he’d say south to Port Arthur. Another person to reinforce their decision wouldn’t go astray.
“Northeast. To Mole Creek. You?”
She glanced at Darren. “We’re going to check out Port Arthur.” Shane had wandered closer to listen in on the conversation.
“Port Arthur? Haven’t heard of that one yet. That’s a good drive. We heard the military made a huge quarantine area at Mole Creek. They got tents and food and most importantly, big fences.”
“The north is where the virus came to Tasmania. I—”
“Not all of us think like that, mister.” Shane stepped forward. “I agree with you. Mole Creek is the place to go.”
The man looked uncomfortable. “Well, each to their own, I guess.” He glanced at Tammy. “Maybe Port Arthur is the hidden gem.”
“Nah, I don’t believe that for a second. This silly bitch,” he waved a hand at Tammy, “has brainwashed the group. Same as she did when she wasn’t a commoner.”
“Hey,” Darren pointed a finger at him. “Watch your goddamn mouth.”
Shane made a pained face. “Or what? You’re just a sheep, mate. Doing whatever she says. Looking for some post-apocalyptic action, are we?” The friendly man who had come over for some polite conversation stepped away. Darren leapt forward and made a long looping punch. Shane stepped sideways easily, and the fist missed its mark. “Siddown, you old git.”
Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve Page 15
