The others followed suit, giving his uninjured hand a quick shake before joining Mark in the ute. He turned the engine over, and then left Will standing quietly as they drove away.
* * *
Will put the rifle sling over his shoulder and walked back into the building. He soon found what he was looking for. The sound system in the officer’s mess had broken a couple of weeks earlier. Instead of getting it fixed, one of the men had bought an old school ‘boom-box’ stereo from a pawn shop down the road. When not plugged into the wall, the unit could be run on a handful of D sized batteries. Will eased off the battery compartment cover, and to his surprise found it fully loaded. Releasing the catch, he sprung the CD compartment open, ditched the disc in it and replaced it with something more appropriate. He scooped the stereo under his left arm, hung the rifle sling carefully next to the bite wound, and headed off.
Back on King Street, Will dragged an abandoned restaurant table and chair to the middle of the road. A few of the Infected had already spotted him and were heading his way. He rested the stereo on the table, hit play and cranked the volume to max. The first track of the iconic Gunners album, Appetite for Destruction, buffeted his ears.
A half smile kinked the side of his mouth as the opening guitar riff of “Welcome to the Jungle” blared into the night.
He turned to pick his first target. Will took his time, sighting each shot carefully, waiting until they breached an imagined 30-metre barrier where his accuracy was guaranteed. He turned in a slow circle to ensure he wasn’t attacked prematurely from behind. Within minutes the street towards the university became increasingly dense as the Infected spilled out in search of the noise.
Will changed magazines, counting the rounds as he methodically dropped corpse after infected corpse. With five bullets left, he stopped. He didn’t want to run dry because of an under filled magazine. He sat on the chair and flipped the rifle around, resting the stock on the ground and muzzle under his chin. He glanced up one last time; they were close now, just metres away with a promise of horror in their feral eyes.
Will clenched his own shut and rammed his thumb down on the trigger. His head flipped backwards, the top of his skull missing as his body slumped from the chair. The Infected came onwards, kneeling at his warm body to feed.
* * *
The drive back was uneventful. Mark didn’t try to pass the hospital again, taking a large detour, before cutting back across and up to the university and Quad. A group of the police officers awaited, and helped to ferry the rifles and ammunition inside. Mark headed for the south side of the Quad, climbing the stairs to the top level. He pushed open a window and heard Axl Rose’s angry whine in the distance, punctuated by evenly timed gunshots.
Below, he could see the crowd of Infected begin to thin, heading towards the noise on King Street. He’d done it then.
There was a break in gunfire, then a single shot rang out.
Mark sent a silent thank you for the sacrifice, then turned and left to find Georgie. It was now up to them to make the most of Will’s offering.
Chapter Sixteen
The train slowed as it approached Berry station before shuddering to a stop. Steph peered out the window into the darkness, but failed to identify a platform. Above her, a speaker crackled into life.
‘Last stop, Berry. The track ahead is blocked; therefore, this service will not be continuing to Bomaderry. To exit the train, make your way to the front carriage.’
She swallowed on a throat suddenly dry. After what she’d seen outside on her journey south, Steph had no desire to leave the carriage that had been a cocoon of safety compared to the horrors she’d glimpsed at speed. Sydney had worn a shroud of smoke, buildings going up in flames while the Infected turned the streets into a blood bath. The southern suburbs had been in chaos as the train swept through, unable to stop at stations turned to slaughterhouses, platforms slick with gore as Carriers feasted.
Steph buttoned up the front of her denim jacket and shouldered her backpack. She was the sole occupant of her compartment. Most of the travellers had exited at Wollongong, with the rest disembarking in ones and twos at subsequent stations until Steph was left on her own. She stood closer to the window trying again to see the station, but the reflection of the interior lights made it impossible to penetrate the darkness.
Giving up, she made her way forward, passing through the adjoining carriages until she reached the front. Steph tapped the exit button and the sliding doors drew backwards with a pneumatic hiss of air. The exit only just reached the end of the platform, the rest of the carriages were strung out down the line out of reach. She pulled her jacket tightly around her and stepped out. Steam billowed with every breath in the frigid air as she turned in a circle to take in her surroundings and decide on a course of action.
A second train was abandoned ahead, taking up the rest of the platform. A few weak lights illuminated the station. The centre globe stuttered intermittent flashes of brightness against the side of the first train. Two windows in one carriage were smashed, the door sliding back and forth, prevented from closing by an obstruction on the ground. Steph hesitantly sought a closer view. An amputated forearm lay on the floor in a puddle of blood, the doors to the carriage clamping every few seconds about the wrist before opening once more.
Steph recoiled, her heart racing. The infection had beaten her here. She darted to hide in the shadows of the building for a moment, listening carefully for the presence of anyone else. Silence. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Steph made for the exit. The street in front of the station was dimly lit, with light posts infrequently spaced down the road. A sign pointed her towards the town centre. She knew that at least one of the Infected was roaming the small country town, so finding a secure place behind a locked door was her priority. Steph drew her pocket knife from a pouch on her belt, a Leatherman ‘Super Tool’ that had been gifted by her father on leaving home. She flicked open the serrated blade, and with handle gripped tightly, began to walk along the edge of the road to town. Her eyes glanced furtively about the street as she moved, searching each shadow for movement and danger.
To the left sprawled open parks and a large sports oval. Along the right of the street stood a row of huge trees, whose thick canopy blocked any moonlight from penetrating the inky depths about their trunks. A figure stumbled onto the road in the distance, silhouetted against the light of the main street. Steph flattened herself against a tree and froze, watching intently, hoping that she would be lost in the surrounding gloom.
A scream tore through the night.
The figure ahead stopped, head cocked to the side briefly before turning and heading in the direction of the cry.
Steph fought to contain a rising wave of panic. If Carriers roamed the main street, that prevented her from seeking accommodation within any of the hotels. It was only 10pm and she still had to make it through the rest of the night. Carriers were only part of her concern. The temperature was plummeting – her face was numb from the wind already, she needed some sort of shelter before she became hypothermic.
An idea sprouted a tiny kernel of hope, causing Steph to turn back and head towards the oval once more. Sure enough, at one end lay a children’s playground. A raised fort was suspended six feet above the ground, accessible only via a cargo net ladder or monkey bars. From what she’d seen of the Infected so far, they weren’t capable of coordinated movement or thought, and the simple obstacle of the cargo netting could possibly be enough to keep them away. Also, the fort had a roof to provide shelter from rain if the weather turned nasty through the night.
Steph pushed her pack up and through one entrance, then climbed the cargo net herself. From her pack she pulled out a thick, feather down sleeping bag and climbed inside ‒ fully clothed, boots and all. If she needed to escape in a hurry, she wanted to be able to run immediately. She found the corner most sheltered from the wind, and sat on the floor, back against the wooden panels. Steph knuckled silent tears from her eyes the
n pulled the hood of the sleeping bag over her head feeling cold, frightened, and most of all, alone.
The mobile phone in her pocket began to vibrate. Her nerves were strung like razor wire and it startled her badly. Steph fumbled the phone out, finding the displayed number unfamiliar.
‘Hello?’ she whispered into the receiver.
Chapter Seventeen
Harry scanned the street margins ahead as he entered the small town in the early hours of the morning. His parents had come through with Steph’s mobile phone number a few hours prior. He’d called straight through and found out her location. The conversation had been short as she had little battery left on her phone. Harry had driven as fast as he’d dared on the pitch-black highway, his headlights on high beam, eyes desperately scanning for yet another stalled car to avoid. He’d narrowly avoided joining a pile-up of cars abandoned on the approach to Nowra while exiting a blind corner at speed. He had stamped on his brake pedal, ramming it to the floor in a vain attempt to stop faster. The ABS braking system had taken over, bringing the car to a shuddering halt mere centimetres from the mangled wreck in front.
After his nerves had recovered, he’d driven around the accident site. It was made up of five cars; the front two appeared to have had a head-on crash, the others had likely slammed into the rear on exiting the corner as Harry had so nearly done. Behind the wheel of the first car, the driver thrashed against the smashed window frame, a wordless howl of rage screamed at Harry as he drove around. Whether he had been infected prior to the crash or attacked afterwards while trapped would remain a mystery. But it confirmed that cases of infection were steadily progressing away from Sydney.
Harry slowed his speed as he entered Berry. The town centre clustered either side of the highway, made of quaint shops to service holidaymakers. Cafes, antique shops and the occasional restaurant lined the street, however the scene was no longer peaceful. Harry passed a slumped figure in front of a smashed show window, a pool a dark blood oozing into the shadows. As he passed, the legs began to twitch, then the body pushed itself to standing, another recruit of the Infected.
The Great Southern Hotel was on fire, flames licking the wall behind the bar, grey smoke sifting out from beneath the eaves to join the clouds above. Harry weaved in amongst a number of abandoned cars on the main road, picking up speed again. The number of Carriers had increased, and he now had four figures lurching in his wake.
Following the voice prompt of his car navigator, he turned down Alexandra Street to the train station. He slowed as he came to an oval, searching for the children’s playground. Harry pulled off the road, allowing his headlights to play across the park as he turned the car in a circle. Finally, he spotted the kids’ fort ahead, fifty or so metres off the road with a head peering over the edge of its window at him. Harry cut the engine, left the lights on and jogged over.
‘Steph?’ he whispered, ‘Are you here?’
A backpack thumped to the ground, followed immediately by its owner, who landed with a feline economy of movement beside it.
‘Harry? Is that you?’
Neither cousin had met before.
‘Yeah, let’s get out of here, this town is starting to crawl with Infected,’ he said, grabbing an arm strap of the pack, he headed for the car with Steph close behind. Harry avoided the main street this time, taking a back route and headed for home.
Chapter Eighteen
Penny ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket. She was standing outside on the grass of the Quad, her hands balled into fists to stop them shaking. She took five deep breaths, her eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to stop any tears from breaking free. Penny had taken a gamble, she’d asked her husband to leave Sydney, to head south and not wait for her. Sydney was only getting worse, the numbers of Infected rising exponentially. She was worried that if they didn’t leave now, they might not make it out of the suburbs, or run an ever-greater risk of their home being broken into and attacked.
Her husband, David, had been angry, refusing at first, but she’d laid the unfair guilt of their son’s life in his hands, saying that if he stayed and waited he might just be guaranteeing their son’s death. The plan had been for Penny to wait for the evacuation, then join them at some point further south. David wasn’t aware that a strategy for their evacuation hadn’t been confirmed, but she needed them as far away from the risk as possible.
Feeling under control once more, Penny forced her family worries to the side. When confronted with dangerous matters in her line of work, she had always used visualisation to separate competing tasks for her attention. When thoughts of her family threatened her concentration, she pictured placing them in a box that was then gently pushed to a recess of her mind, freeing her attention for the immediate threat. She had found the technique effective, however, she walked away with unease that she was becoming more adept at compartmentalising her life. There were so many things about her now that her husband didn’t know or truly understand.
Penny checked her watch – the news update was due in a few minutes. She jogged back to the Great Hall to join the group. Survivors were huddled to the front of the stage, standing shoulder to shoulder. A biting cold chilled the air, as the gas supply had failed overnight. Electricity was still working, but it was unclear for how long that would survive. On the TV, a reporter announced a cross to a press conference chaired by the NSW State Premier.
The Premier looked as though he’d aged a decade. Grey rings hung under his eyes and his suit looked like he hadn’t taken it off in days. Penny took satisfaction in his appearance, that it looked as though he actually felt some weight of responsibility. She hoped he felt like a failure, because at the moment, it seemed like the whole state had been abandoned.
The Premier gripped the podium tightly with both hands and raised his eyes to the camera. ‘It is with a heavy heart that I bring the following news to the people of Sydney. A decision has been reached, under advice from the state police, military and Federal Government, that our city has been lost to the advancing infection.’
There was dead silence in the Great Hall.
‘All non-infected citizens are now advised to make plans to evacuate Sydney. People on the city’s fringes are encouraged to head either south, or inland. Inhabitants of the inner suburbs are likely presented with greater risk on leaving their homes. Evacuation points will be available from major sports grounds where the Air Force will be conducting airlifts. Other evacuation points will be via ferry terminals and ports. The responsibility to access these evacuation sites will fall to the individual, however, please note that once accessed, these will be safe locations, defended by the Australian Army. A list of evacuation points will be displayed at the completion of this address, and I advise you to make your way promptly to your nearest site.
‘Although this marks the darkest day in our State’s history, mark my words,’ said the Premier; his gaze was unwavering, expression furious, ‘Our city will be retaken. We will come home.’
His eyes drilled into the camera for a few moments longer, then he stepped away and disappeared from sight. A list of evacuation locations began to slowly roll down the screen. As the options began to cycle through once more, Novak took the stage next to the TV.
‘I think our best option is the Sydney Cricket Ground.’ When a voice from the crowd tried to interrupt, he held up a hand for silence. ‘Not only is the SCG the closest option, it’s a straight route along Cleveland Street. Once we get there, it should be an easily defendable site. Our challenge will be traversing the four kilometres that separates us, intact.’
Novak’s gaze travelled the survivors. ‘I want our group ready to leave within the hour. We have twenty rifles, each with two magazines of ammunition. I want volunteers to carry one – however, you must realise that you will be expected to use it in defence of the larger group. Mark and I will be running dry fire training in the Quad courtyard in ten minutes. Everyone else, find something you can use as a hand weapon to take with you.�
�
Novak jumped off the stage and walked outside to prepare for the training session. The spell was broken; the small crowd in the hall broke up, some following Novak outside, others going for their belongings to prepare. Penny found her mouth was dry as her adrenaline surged. It was finally happening, they would be facing the Infected once more, but this time to reach safety.
Penny’s phone began ringing. It was a video call from her son, she walked to the side of the hall to take it.
‘Hey Mum, we’re on our way. Dad had the car packed already, we were just waiting for you to get home. Where are you going to meet us?’ Ben looked worried. At only twelve years of age, he looked very young, his face was pale and eyes wide with concern.
‘We’re getting evacuated to the SCG, so once I know where we get taken from there, we can make some concrete plans, ok?’
Her son nodded, she could see he was sitting in the front passenger seat of their car. The screen shot started to shake, as David began driving.
‘Just make sure you guys don’t stop for anything ok? Just keep going and drive around any Carrier that you come across,’ Penny said.
‘Don’t worry, Mum. Dad’s got the axe and your big chef’s knife, we can take on anything,’ her son boasted. Penny’s brow wrinkled in concern. Her husband’s voice came in from outside the edge of the screen,
‘Pen, it’s ok – I’m not planning on using them, I just felt more comfortable having something like that with us,’ he said.
‘Hey Dad, maybe we should go back and try a different way?’ Her son’s voice was shaking.
‘Ah, fuck,’ she heard her husband mutter.
‘What’s going on, David? Is the road blocked or something?’ Penny asked.
Plague War: Outbreak Page 10
