25
January 11, 2014
6:40 pm
Latrobe, Tasmania
Leroy and Bill rode double on the motorbike all the way into the main street of Latrobe. It was the first time Leroy had been on the back of a bike, and it was exhilarating. He felt split by his decision to go with Bill—on one hand, he had wanted to get back to his house with fresh supplies and hide away from the world. This, Leroy knew, would limit his chances of getting killed, or worse, infected and turning into one of those things. But he had lost his supplies—had lost them, and almost his life. That had been the impetus for his decision to join with Bill. Maybe it had also been that, for once in his life, he wanted to do something for someone else. Be more like Bill, who was selfless towards helping his friends.
The first task on Bill’s plan was to find a store that sold guns and load up on weapons and ammo so either of the two situations they had found themselves in earlier that afternoon would not happen again. Through his motorcycle connections, Bill knew a number of black-market gun contacts. But the last he heard, they were out of town, and Bill said he didn’t want to waste time checking if they were available.
By the time they found a hunting and camping store on Gilbert Street—Wells & Co.—that suggested they had firearms, it was past normal dinner time and darkness had begun its foray across the world. Out front, a pack of infected wandered, so Bill took the motorbike around the back and parked it underneath a small awning that was also protected by a chain link fence.
“Perfect,” Bill said as he looped a small chain through the links to secure the gate.
The back door to the store was locked, so they were forced to kick it in. After a handful of attempts using the heels of their boots, they managed to break the lock and ruin the door jam.
The store was a mess. The place had been ransacked, with boxes and racks pushed onto the floor. Sleeping bags, stretcher beds, and other camping gear were piled about. Leroy was ashamed his fellow Tasmanians would leave the place in such a state.
“Why can’t people take what they need and leave the place in the same condition?” Bill asked. “Idiots.”
A number of infected hovered in a cluster around the front window. Leroy walked to the front of the store, hiding behind one of the point-of-sale display signs, and watched them walking in circles, up and down the pavement. One in particular would walk to a bin, stand over it for a few moments, then turn around and walk back to the window. It would stare inside for a few seconds and then do the same thing again, as if expecting a different result or finding. They must be insane, Leroy thought. Worse, what if they knew? This was what scared him the most. What if they knew what had happened and were powerless to stop it? Being trapped inside one of those bodies and mind was terrifying for Leroy. At least now, he had choices. He could alter his life for the better. As he sat there watching the infected with the insanity, Leroy had a kind of epiphany. He had taken some control of his life by following Bill. And from now on, he would be judged by his decisions. But at least Leroy would make them.
He returned to Bill, who had assembled a scant collection of the store’s last few guns.
“Not much, but they’ll do.”
Leroy had no idea about guns. He’d never even shot one. “I’m not a gun person. You pick what we need,” he said to Bill.
“Take one,” Bill said, handing Leroy a long weapon that looked like a shotgun.
“I’ve never even held a gun before.”
Bill shoved a tattooed arm at him. “You need to get used to them.”
“I’ll probably just shoot myself.”
Bill put the weapon down on the bench and straightened up. Leroy was reminded that if he saw Bill on the street, he’d probably cross it to avoid him. The man had a mean face, a broad, powerful body, and the tattoos were intimidating.
“Okay,” Bill said. “We’ve established that. Good start. Now I want you to think of this. We’re out on the street somewhere. The zombies are about. We—”
“Would we really be on the street, knowing what we know now?”
Bill’s eyes went wide. “Just pretend for now, okay?” Leroy gave a slight nod. “We’re out on the street. I’m in trouble. I’ve lost my gun. I—”
“I don’t think you’d be in trouble. I think—”
“Would you shut the fuck up?” Bill’s mean face looked meaner. “Just let me finish the scenario, okay? It’s not a real scenario. Hopefully it won’t happen. I wanna make a point that you will need this fucking gun sooner or later so it’s in your best interests to know how to handle it.”
“Okay. Fine.”
“You have the gun. I’m in deep shit. Instead of falling on your ass and getting attacked and me having to save you again, you can shoot them easily and finish them off quickly. It’s easier than a knife; you can do it from a distance, and it kills them in one hit.”
“But I might miss.”
“So we practice. Start by holding the fucking thing.”
Leroy took the shotgun from Bill. It was heavier than he thought.
“Is it loaded?”
“No.”
Leroy lifted it up the way he had seen people do in movies and pretended to use the sight to shoot something in the distance. He moved his hands up and down, feeling the weight again. “Does it kick a lot when you fire it?”
“A bit. You’ll be ready for it though.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a go.”
“Good man. That’s a start.”
They collected a shotgun each and a small Ruger pistol. Bill organised the ammunition in a fabric zip-up bag. Leroy had no idea how long it would last.
Bill looked around the store again then peered out the front window, onto the main street. It was almost totally dark; the light in the sky created a silhouette. Bill stood in thought for a moment, as if making a consideration.
“We got two choices, here,” Bill said. “One, we go find the president of my club. See if he’s made it through so far, if anybody else from the club has, and if they can help us.”
“You think they made it?”
Bill thought about it for a moment. “I dunno. I hope so.”
“What’s the other option?”
“Look around.” Bill motioned with his hand. “We’ve got everything we need to settle down for the night. Sleeping bags, stretchers, even a gas stove. If we can get some canned food from the IGA next store, we’ll be set. I don’t fancy going out now, anyway.”
Planning wasn’t one of Leroy’s strengths. He had a habit of just rolling from one day to the next. He hadn’t put options together the way Bill had. Now, he looked around and spotted amongst the trashed store the possibility Bill had suggested. The man was right. They could camp there for the night and start afresh in the morning.
“I gotta say I like that idea,” Leroy said. “I’m not keen on venturing out too far again tonight after what we’ve been through today.”
“Settled then. Let’s clean this place a bit and see what we can find next door.”
Next to the gun shop was a super IGA grocery store. It appeared to be owned by the same people who owned the hunting store. Above the IGA sign was the same name—Wells & Co. Despite the earlier record of failures, their luck improved because the IGA fridges and freezers were still cold, as though someone had kept the power or back up generator running until recently. A small amount of meat that hadn’t yet expired and a host of other foods that would perish in another day or so awaited them. Leroy loaded up a trolley and started to collect for a second when Bill stopped him.
“We don’t need all that. We only need enough for tonight.”
“We’re going to need supplies beyond tomorrow,” Leroy said.
“If we end up back here after getting the girls out, we can get some more.”
That didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Leroy. In his experience, you took it when you had the chance. “What if someone else takes it all?”
Bill shrugged. “Maybe they will. Ma
ybe they won’t. Others are gonna need it as much as us.”
Leroy reluctantly conceded.
The main grocery store connected with a small liquor shop. The fridges were not cold and, while Bill considered putting a carton of beer in the cooler grocery store fridge, Leroy instead collected two bags of melted ice from the IGA freezer.
Using the back door of the IGA, they rolled the trolley over the bumpy concrete driveway. In the distance, two infected wandered in the car park. They did not see Leroy pushing the trolley nor Bill walking behind him, carrying the shotgun. Leroy considered their luck was still steady.
They cleared the floor and erected a small gas cooker and bottle near the open back door. Leroy made two stretchers and unfurled a couple of sleeping bags. He used a bunch of soft jackets for pillows.
As fat sausages popped and sizzled on the cooker, Bill turned them with a brand new set of cooking tongs while they both drank a Great Northern beer, which had spent about fifteen minutes embedded in the icy water. It wasn’t as cold as Leroy normally liked his beer, but it was liquid gold in the context. Bill disappeared behind one of the display racks for a moment.
When he returned, tucking in his t-shirt, Leroy said, “Everything okay?”
“Fine. I used to watch you on television,” Bill said. “Shit, you could hit a cricket ball.”
Leroy used to love hearing such things. It would stroke his ego; remind him of what a good player he was, even years after he retired. Even a month ago he might have felt that way. But now, it didn’t do much for him.
“You seemed like a bit of a dick, though.”
“I was.”
Bill laughed. “You make the Aussie team?” Leroy nodded. “That must have been a thrill.”
“Looking back, I really didn’t appreciate it. I thought I was owed something for all the effort I’d put in. All the training. Truth is, every other player had done the same, if not more.” He took a swallow of beer. “Played a couple of tour matches in England. Didn’t make the Ashes squad, but those beautiful grounds in the country were something to remember.”
“Saw you hit a hundred at the MCG one day. Sheffield Shield match.” He waved a hand. “Or whatever they call it these days. Man, you couldn’t miss.”
Leroy remembered. He remembered all his good innings. “You know I didn’t even want to play cricket growing up?” Bill’s forehead flexed. “Yeah. I wanted to play golf. But my father hated it.”
The first sausages were ready. Bill opened a loaf of frozen bread that had partly defrosted and laid several slices on the hot stove for a moment. When they had softened up, he took two and slapped a thick layer of butter on both pieces. Leroy didn’t usually eat butter on his bread but didn’t complain. Bill laid the sausages diagonally and they both heaped tomato ketchup on them, then ate in silence.
When he was done, Bill said, “I know I’m hungry, but those things are just food of the gods.” He screwed the top of another beer and swallowed. “When did you finish cricket?”
“About five years ago.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-seven.” The look on Bill’s face showed surprise. “Young, I know. And I say this with more humility than I’ve ever had in my life, but I don’t think it was because I wasn’t good enough.”
Bill settled into one of the camping chairs. It creaked under his weight. “What then?”
“I was probably selfish. Not really a team player. I was in it for myself rather than the team. If I didn’t get a score I’d be shitty, that sort of thing. I think they knew I could play, but I unbalanced the team.” He made another sausage in bread as he talked. “I was just so desperate to succeed, I could only focus on that. I had some good mates in the team, but I drove them away. Story of my life, really.”
He drank more beer and enjoyed the taste almost as much as the sausage in bread. Bill watched him, waiting. “I found after cricket finished, I had nothing. I was angry and resentful. Probably became even more selfish. My wife ended up leaving me. Didn’t really have many friends. Those I had were really from cricket and they drifted away. That’s why when the world ended, I’m here all alone.”
“Sorry to hear.”
“As I said, probably self-inflicted.”
“All I know—it’s what my mother and father taught me when I was a kid, and I’ve never forgotten it—is to treat people the way you want to be treated. Treat them well, even when it’s hard to do so, and it’ll come back to you.”
“Sort of like karma?”
“I guess. In a way.”
“Good advice, I think. If I had done that, I don’t think I’d be in this situation now.” And Leroy believed that. He had not treated people well. Of that, Leroy was sure. “What about you, Bill? You look like you’ve been around.”
“I have, believe me.”
“Family?”
“Got a brother. But I don’t see him or his family.”
This struck Leroy. “That’s… sad.”
“I wasn’t a good brother when he was young. Or husband. Got into some pretty bad shit. My wife put up with a lot, but it got too much. I don’t blame her for leaving.”
“Why don’t you see your brother?”
“I just don’t contact him.”
“You don’t want to?”
“Shit, no. Of course I do. I’m just…” Leroy raised his eyebrows. Bill sunk his head and took another swig. When he looked up at Leroy, there was a resolve in his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I’m afraid, mate.”
Bill didn’t strike Leroy as someone who was often afraid. It did not make any sense to him. “Afraid?”
“Afraid he won’t want me. Afraid his wife and kids will reject me.”
“But you don’t know that will happen. Isn’t it worse to worry about it? Maybe they’ll want to see you. Maybe you’ve been worrying about nothing.”
Bill thought about this and took two mouthfuls of beer before he responded. “Maybe. When you put it like that.”
Leroy did something he hadn’t done for a long time. He raised his bottle of beer towards Bill. “Here’s to us making better decisions from now on.”
Bill gave a slight smile. “To us.” They clinked the bottles and both took a long swallow.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“We get moving early. Go over to see the pres and find out what they’re doing. Recruit as many of the boys as we can.”
“Are they really going to help, though? They don’t know these women. You think they’re going to risk their lives for people they don’t even know?”
“You’re helping.” Leroy nodded, and Bill continued. “And they will, too. I’ll stake my life on it. They’re mostly good people, you know. It’s like any group. There’s good and bad in all. They do heaps of charity work for the kids and disabled people. The president is a great bloke. He’ll help anyone, even if you don’t wear a club jacket, but if you do, he’ll give his life for you.”
“Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
“Once he finds out about what’s happened to these ladies, he’ll call everyone who can to help. We’ll stitch up these fuckers, and once we get them free we can decide what to do next.”
Leroy didn’t want to think about what might happen after they’d helped the ladies. For the first time, he felt a part of something that wasn’t all about him. It felt good. He just hoped things wouldn’t change too much afterwards.
26
January 11, 2014
8:21 pm
Latrobe, Tasmania
The latch on the rusty tank door squealed as the bolt withdrew. For Juliet, it felt like déjà vu; another day, another visitor who wouldn’t help them. This time, though, Sam’s face appeared in the opening.
“Sam?” Juliet said. The others were up on their feet. “What are you doing here?” She expected by now he might not be in such good physical condition.
His face was still bruised and puffy, but he managed a slender smile. He stepped inside the tank, a
nd his features were swallowed by the dimness. Juliet looked out to see if anybody was with him. At first she thought he was alone, and then she noticed another man standing over near the tree, looking towards the tank.
In a whisper, Sam said, “There’s been a huge row. The whole lot of them have split in two groups. Those supporting Johnny—the one you call Red Bandana, and those for Todd—or Ponytail.”
“Which side are you on?” Meg asked.
“I didn’t want to choose, but I had to go with Red Bandana.”
Juliet said, “Good choice.”
“I came to tell you Red and the guys with him have a plan. Just be ready to go.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I can’t say yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t. Just trust me.”
“Trust you?”
“Please. Just trust me. I’ve been with them, and they’re not so bad when it comes down to it.”
Juliet was speechless. Had Sam forgotten everything that had happened? Had he forgotten the fact they were being imprisoned. She found her words again. “I’m shocked you’d say that, Sam. I thought more of you. All the things they’ve done to us—to you.”
“Yeah, but Red Bandana didn’t actually do it.”
“He let it happen.” Juliet’s voice had a rough edge now. “He watched you get beaten. He threw us in here. He could let us out if he really wanted.”
“No. Not now. Ponytail would kill you.”
“Then why doesn’t he come and do it?”
“Because Red Bandana’s crew has the back half of the lot—this half, where the tank is. And I can tell you he orchestrated it so we would have this section specifically to keep you lot safe.”
“We?”
“Huh?”
“You said we, Sam, as though you’re one of them.”
“We?” He took a moment to consider this. “I just meant we as in the group of people fighting against the other side.”
“Tell us the plan, Sam, or we’re not going to follow anything when whatever time comes.”
Invasion of the Dead (Book 5): Resolve Page 17
