The man confirmed Harry’s words with a slight nod. Harry glanced down at his machete on the floor. ‘Can I pick that up now? Because I’m pretty sure I’ll need it again before too long.’
Another nod. ‘How about we all just keep our stuff sheathed while we’re sharing the place though. I don’t want any miscommunications turning nothing into something.’
‘No worries,’ Harry said, easing the machete back into its sheath. Steph stuck the handle of her small axe through a loop of belt, leaving the blade free at the top. With that, they both backed away.
As they pulled out a trolley each, Steph caught Harry’s eye. ‘Did you see that rifle? That’s got to be military issue,’ she whispered. ‘He’s probably an Australian soldier – maybe that’s someone we could use at the property?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Are you kidding? That bugger nearly made me shit myself!’
‘Come on, Harry, one of the women was in a cop’s uniform as well – they can’t be that dodgy. We’re going to have to take a gamble eventually.’
Harry clenched his jaw. ‘All right, let’s try and talk with them a bit first. I’m not agreeing yet though.’
Steph and Harry split up, quickly moving along the aisles shoving canned food, flour and other baking ingredients and toiletries into their trolleys. Within ten minutes, they were both finished. They met back at the entrance where the shop window provided a little more light.
Steph pulled a few cans of food from her trolley – tossing one to Harry. ‘We’ll sit down and eat here, then offer to them to join us when they walk past. Can’t get less threatening than that, can we?’
Harry nodded in agreement, and parked his arse on the floor while his cousin pulled a few more items out to eat.
Harry was on to his second can of baked beans when the other group walked towards the exit pushing their trolleys. He stopped eating, the plastic spoon heaped with a congealed mass half way to his mouth as he tried to think of something to say.
Steph broke the tense silence, letting him off the hook. ‘Were you guys in Sydney during the evacuations?’
The dark-haired woman stopped at Steph’s question and looked across to the rifleman, who just shrugged. Taking this as assent, she cleared her throat. ‘Yeah, Mark, Penny and I escaped at the same time it was happening, saw the debacle at Port Botany from a distance. We were lucky though, I had access to a boat, so we avoided having to gamble on the government’s bailout plan.’
‘We watched the SCG blood bath on TV, turned my blood cold that did. We’ve been working flat out to fortify our farm since it hap—’
‘What did you see happen at the SCG?’ interrupted Penny. ‘One of my colleagues was evacuating a group of people to that location. Did it get overrun?’ Her face was white, both hands clenched tightly on the handle of the trolley she had been pushing.
‘We only watched for ten minutes or so,’ said Harry. ‘But it didn’t look good. The Infected had broken past the army cordon and were into the crowd on the oval,’ he glanced up at Steph for a moment. ‘We did see one police officer in the crowd, I don’t know if it was your mate or not though.’
‘What did he look like?’ asked Penny.
‘I think he had a close shaved head, pale skin? I couldn’t really be certain – we only saw him for a moment,’ said Harry.
Penny turned to her companions. ‘Jesus, that could have been him.’ She looked back at Harry again. ‘Do you know if he made it to the evacuation chopper? Please tell me he did.’
Harry shook his head slowly. ‘He didn’t make it. But he went down fighting, used his last rounds to save others in the crowd.’
Penny closed her eyes at his words; jaw clenched, looking like she was trying to bring herself under control.
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ continued Harry. ‘He fought to the end, didn’t give an inch.’
The dark-haired woman placed a hand on the cop’s shoulder in consolation. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference us being there, Pen. Sounds like it was a dead end with no way out.’
‘Yeah, that’s twice now I owe you. If you hadn’t got me and Georgie to join you, we would have been in that same crowd,’ added Mark.
Harry held up his tin of beans, trying to change the topic. ‘You guys want to join us for something to eat? We figured it’s one less meal we need to carry home. I’m sure Steph would like to hear some other person’s voice aside from mine for a while.’
‘Yeah, why not?’ Mark sighed. ‘I’m bloody starving anyway. ‘You girls all right with that?’ he asked, turning towards the two women.
The trio joined Harry and Steph on the floor. After introductions were made, and a slow start to conversation, the two groups gradually thawed to each other, each relaying their background and personal experience of the outbreak to date and the horrors that it had entailed.
Steph turned the conversation towards the future, asking what their plans were from here. Georgie described her parent’s farm, north of Milton. The rest of her family had the good fortune of being overseas on holiday, leaving the property empty. Once they arrived there, they would try to make the site defendable in the short term.
Harry described the location of his farmhouse, outlining its strengths, the changes that they’d already achieved, and their plans to make the property impregnable via the construction of the shipping container wall.
‘We’ve got the materials to make it safe until the government gets their shit sorted. As we found out on the drive here today, the infection’s already hit Milton and I’m starting to worry that we’re running out of time.’ Harry paused, looking across at his cousin to check she was still in agreement. She nodded, mouthing, ask them.
Harry took a breath, and continued, ‘What we need, is the right people to join us. Mark, you said that you’re an engineer in the army? I take it you’ve got a heavy vehicle licence then?’
Mark nodded.
‘With your help, we could build the shipping container wall in a couple of days. We’d create our own fortress to keep the Carriers out. No more sleeping with one eye open each night. What do you think? Will the three of you join us?’ asked Harry.
Mark looked at Penny and Georgie. Both looked torn. ‘Thanks for the offer, Harry. It’s tempting, but I think we need to have a private chat first. Give us ten minutes, ok?’
Mark, Penny and Georgie walked away to the rear most aisle for privacy. Mark spoke first. ‘What do you reckon? They sound like they’ve thought it out pretty well. Can your parents’ place match theirs for strength of defence?’ he asked Georgie. She shook her head.
‘I don’t think so. It’s got a good line of sight to see anyone approaching, but the fences are only waist height, built to keep sheep in, not stop a mob of Carriers,’ Georgie said.
‘He’s a doctor too, with emergency department supplies and medicines on hand. That could be just as important for survival as weapons and fences,’ added Penny. ‘I think we should take the offer. If it doesn’t work out, we just leave.’
‘I’m inclined to agree,’ Mark said. ‘Georgie? What’s your call?’
Georgie walked back to the end of the aisle, looking towards Harry and Steph who were now quietly grabbing a last few items into their trolleys. ‘Ok. Let’s do it. Can we agree that this is only a stepping stone towards something else though?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Mark
‘We still need to find out how the infection is spreading across the country, and what the government’s doing. If there is somewhere free of Carriers, surely we should be heading there?’
‘No argument from me,’ Mark said. Penny nodded her agreement.
The trio walked back to the supermarket entrance where Harry and Steph now waited with their trolleys.
‘So, what’s the decision?’
‘You got a deal,’ answered Georgie, holding out her hand. Harry and Steph both smiled, shaking each of their new members’ hands in turn. Things were looking up. Harry grabbed hold of a trolle
y handle and made for the cars to start loading the food. The rest followed close behind. Time was moving, and there was still plenty to achieve.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Mark walked slowly around the farmhouse’s verandah, looking out at the surrounding paddocks and land features. Harry’s appraisal of the place had been honest, but he lacked the eye of an engineer to identify key problems in his suggested use of shipping containers to build a perimeter barrier. He could do it, there was no question that it was a feasible plan. It was just going to be a little more difficult than carting the containers up and dumping them in a square. The farmhouse sat on a slight incline, meaning that the top of the containers would sit on an angle making their top a dangerous structure to fight upon when the need came, and that day would surely come. It was only a matter of time. He would have to dig out footings for each of the containers, providing a level surface on which to dump them.
The equipment yard held the required digging equipment. Mark came to a halt and shoved his fists deep into his jeans pockets as he stared towards the highway and heavy machinery yard. He’d built similar fortifications in Afghanistan with the Americans as they pushed into Taliban-held territory. Their building blocks had been slightly different, wire cages lined with thick cotton that they filled with rubble and sand, but the concept was the same. The makeshift forts could be built extremely quickly. In this case, he thought he could have it up within a few days. Two days to dig the footings, then one more to cart the containers up. They would just have to hope they were far away enough from town that each Carrier stumbling though Milton didn’t get drawn straight to them. It was gamble they’d have to take.
‘What do you think? Still interested in joining us?’ asked Harry.
‘Yeah, I’ll get it done. It’ll just take a little longer than expected. All the noise is going to drag any Carrier in hearing distance on to us though,’ warned Mark.
‘I’d rather take that risk now than when we have a swarm of those bastards move through town.’
‘True. Your current fence should make it easier to manage small numbers of the bastards. We’ll need to come to an agreement on how we take out any dead fuck that stumbles our way. How about we head in and make a plan of attack.’
Tomorrow would see the real work begin.
* * *
Mark had made good progress gouging a strip of soil from the incline to create a flat base for the shipping containers. Based on speed, he’d chosen a Bobcat skid-steer loader/excavator from the equipment yard. It might not have been ideal for the job, but it moved fast. A level base was now prepared at the front and sides of the property, only the rear platform needed completion. After a quick tutorial, Mark had passed over the bobcat to Harry to complete the job while he started to move the first of the shipping containers into position.
Steph and Penny were creating an inventory of everything at hand on the property, a list of all equipment, tools, materials, food and their location. On completion of the barrier protection about the farmhouse, the next item on the agenda for the team would be scouting for required supplies and materials, but first they needed to have a clear idea of what was already on site.
Steph flinched as a high-pitched whistle sounded from the lookout on the roof. She ran out of the shed towards the house, picking up her new weapon from where it stood propped against the doorframe as she went. It was her turn to dispose of the latest ghoul attacking their property. She looked up to Georgie sitting on the apex of the corrugated iron roof. Georgie held up one finger, indicating number of approaching Carriers, then pointed towards the western fence line. The noise created by the heavy machinery had proved a bigger draw card than they had planned for.
The prevalence of the infection in Milton was only beginning, and yet, they’d had to deal with between five and ten lurching corpses per day. Taking turns, each of the group aside from Mark, had completed shifts upon the farmhouse roof as a sentinel, watching for approaching danger. Mark’s value as an earthmover had trumped his need to gain a sore arse sitting on the roof.
Initially, when a Carrier had been sighted, everyone had downed tools and approached the threat as a group. The barbed wire fence had proved an effective barrier, allowing relative safety as long as they stayed out of arms reach. Soon, their strategy changed to allow continuous work on the main barrier. For attacks by lone Carriers, only a pair was sent to meet the walking corpse at the fence line; one to engage the enemy, the other as back-up if anything went wrong. The 0.22 was used on each occasion for a close-range headshot, saving the Austeyr ammunition for a later date. They left the bodies where they fell, delaying disposal until the barrier work was completed.
The previous night, Penny had raised a concern about their small ammunition supply. She wanted bullets to be conserved for situations of higher threat, such as the feared confrontation by a Sydney-style swarm of the Infected. The group had spent the next hour discussing possible alternatives that would provide the greatest degree of safety.
Steph now held the prototype of their collective creativity. The end had been removed from a long-handled pick and a hole drilled into the wood to snuggly fit the width of an M9 bayonet handle, three of which Mark had acquired from the Sydney University Regiment weapons store. A loop of metal at the base of the blade served as a fastening point to the end of the pick handle with a washer and screw. Mark had then wound fencing wire around the outside of the shaft housing the bayonet handle, to prevent it from splitting. They had created a mean, short-handled stabbing spear, strong enough to puncture a skull from short range.
Mark had trialled it earlier in the morning with good effect.
Now it was her turn.
Steph gripped the handle tightly in damp hands, concentrating on slow deep breaths to distract herself from what was about to happen. Penny was her back-up, ready with the loaded 0.22 rifle. Neither said anything to the other as they headed towards the western fence. There wasn’t much point in fake assurances, it would either go well, or it wouldn’t.
Calf-height grass in the paddock, sodden from rain during the night soaked through Steph’s jeans and runners within twenty metres. The sky above was clear and brittle with mid-winter cold. Plumes of steam burst forth from each woman’s mouth with every breath and despite the freezing temperature, a trickle of nervous sweat oozed from Steph’s armpits. She sought to distract herself from what was about to happen. It wasn’t her first killing duty, far from it. The execution had become easier as practice grew; however, the anticipation became harder as personal experience replaced imagination.
Mark was unloading the first container at the front of the house. She’d found her eyes drawn to him often over the past days when she thought no one else was looking. Not exactly ideal timing with what was happening, and also, there seemed to be some sort of history between him and Georgie that she was yet to clarify. Reluctantly, Steph drew her focus back to the task at hand.
A woman carrying the infection had tangled herself upon the fence as her stunted brain drove her towards the sound of the machinery. Wicked spikes of sharpened wire had torn long rents through her t-shirt, and ribbons of dry brown flesh hung free of her neck, breasts and arms. One eye was punctured, a grotesque, dried jelly smeared down her cheek from the deflated globe. Suddenly the Carrier noted their arrival. Her head swung around, the remaining bloodshot eye fixing on Steph as she waded forward through the grass. The ghoul’s efforts to cross the wire re-doubled, feet stamping up and down, arms flailing. One foot caught purchase on a loop of wire half way up the fence, propelling the body upwards to rip free and topple into Penny and Steph’s side of the paddock. It landed face down, before rising like a drunk to stand.
Instead of being afraid, Steph found her dominant emotion to be anger; anger that this creature sought to invade the safe space they were creating to spread nothing but terror and disease. She strode forward to meet it, weapon raised.
‘Screw this, I’ll shoot it. Save the spear for the next one,’ Penny said
from behind her shoulder.
‘Let me try first, Pen,’ muttered Steph through gritted teeth.
The haft of the makeshift spear felt reassuringly heavy as she took a double-handed grip. The creature started forward, letting out a snarl of rage. Thoughts of her pre-rehearsed strategy of a thrust into the eye or under the chin evaporated. She swung her weapon in a vicious arc, slicing the bayonet blade like a long-handled sword through the middle of the corpse’s neck. The point of the knife nicked the vertebrae at the back, before carrying on through in a clean sweep to burst out the other side. The head lolled to the side, hanging backwards over its shoulder, held only in place by the dried sinew between the cervical vertebrae of the spine. Over balanced by the wound and displaced head, the ghoul fell backwards, arms and legs now out of control of the infection-ravaged brain.
Steph moved closer, standing over the Carrier’s body to look down at the one part still functioning, the head. The remaining eye stared unblinking at her, lips pulled back in a voiceless snarl as the teeth snapped impotently. Steph slid the bayonet point between its teeth, then leant down hard onto the base of the pick handle, driving the knife down and through the brain stem, into the grass beneath.
The Carrier’s features slackened as its brain was destroyed, the mouth closing about the blade as the jaw muscles relaxed. Steph braced her boot against the forehead and pulled the long knife free, causing the lips to pucker upwards with the blades movement in an obscene kiss.
Stepping back from the corpse, the adrenaline that had coursed through her veins moments prior washed away, leaving her feeling strangely lightheaded, shaky and unbelievably tired. She stabbed the point of her makeshift spear into the turf and squatted before her knees unhinged against her will. Steph felt a reassuring hand grip her shoulder, and looked up to find Penny standing at her side, staring down at her with an expression of awe.
‘That was amazing. When it starts hitting the fan for real, I want you by my side... Just saying,’ she said, before offering a hand to help Steph back to her feet.
Plague War: Outbreak Page 17
