Steph piped up, ‘I saw cans of spray adhesive when Penny and I were doing the inventory. Could that be sprayed on the metal, then swept over with dirt? Once it’s dried in place, it should be like sandpaper that our boots could grip on.’
Georgie left the room for a moment, then reappeared with a piece of paper and pencil.
‘Let’s get a plan written down then on how we’re going to get this all done, and in what order. If you’re starting again with the heavy machinery, Carriers are going to be attracted here once more. Our guard details and sentry will have to kick off again.’ She paused, as if deciding about whether to bring up a new line of conversation, before continuing. ‘And while we’re at it, we need to sort out a roster about simple shit like cleaning, washing and getting food before it gets out of control. I’ve already done a couple of loads of washing, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be stuck being a maid. If me and Steph are on the front line with those Infected monsters, you guys can do your fair share of mundane bloody cleaning!’ she sighed. ‘I know we’ve got bigger fish to fry, but that’s the kind of shit that pisses off people in the long run when they share a house, yeah?’
Harry and Mark were both stifling a smile. Harry spoke up first, ‘No worries, Georgie. Happy to do it. Actually, I reckon it would weird me out a little having someone else do my washing after all these years living as a bachelor. I normally get down to my last pair of jocks and shirt before I can be arsed doing it though.’
‘Yep, all good. I expected to be doing that stuff as well anyway. Sorry, I guess I’ve just had my head focused on the building projects. How much food have we got left, Harry?’ asked Mark.
Harry got up and opened a few cupboard doors about the kitchen. The numbers of cans had diminished somewhat over the past week. ‘Less than I expected, we’ll have to start rationing stocks a little better unless we can find a steady food source. We’ll need another food run by the time the new construction works are finished.’
‘I wouldn’t mind heading up to my parents’ place soon,’ Georgie said. ‘I can clear out their pantry and they’ve got a chest freezer that’s usually packed with meat.’
Mark felt his mouth start to water at the thought of a flame-grilled steak after the taste deficient canned food they’d been eating.
‘Dad’s also got a few rifles that we could take as well. Mark and I can take the Outback over once the work’s done here and pack everything of use.’
Mark did a slight double take, hearing that Georgie wanted to spend time in his company. ‘We can? Ah ok, sure. No worries. Anyway, first things first – who wants to do what this arvo? We’ve still got six hours of daylight left.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Four days later, Mark and Georgie climbed into the Subaru. Penny swung open the far end of the wide shipping container installed as a gate. Mark turned the key, bringing the motor to life, then drove through the narrow confine, metal creaking below until they re-emerged into the winter sun on the outside of the barricade. He braked on reaching the long driveway to look back on the complex that they had created. It still jarred the mind, seeing their creation within the Australian rural setting. Before, the square of shipping containers had looked merely odd. Now however, their defences couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a fort.
The makeshift fence of bolted star pickets and wire about the top of the containers, transformed the roof into a battlement walkway. Flood lights were attached to each corner of the wall, facing outwards, allowing illumination in case of night attack. Hundreds of star pickets and roughly-hewn stakes were hammered into the preceding three metres of ground to the wall, sharp points facing outwards. And yet, it was the simple holes cut at head height in the outer wall of the containers that gave Mark the creeps. Each window appeared pitch black from the outside, and it took little for the imagination to picture a watching sniper, their rifle tracking his head with every movement.
Mark let his foot off the brake and started down the gravel drive to the highway. At the bottom of the paddock, he passed the series of pits that he had dug with the help of an excavator from the equipment yard. A 3.5 tonne Caterpillar excavator had made light work of the earth-moving exercise, enabling him to drop three pits with sheer edges, twelve feet into the ground in the space of one morning’s work. The speakers had proved more difficult to achieve a workable option. In the end, he’d stripped wiring from throughout the equipment yard’s office and two of the bedrooms in the house. Spliced together, there had been just enough to link a rudimentary switch to a tape recorder and speaker housed in water-tight containers in each pit. A rope with knots tied at regular spaces for hand holds, hung into each pit as a basic means for entry and exit to maintain the speaker set up.
Georgie and Steph had obliged the boys by making the tapes to be played. When Mark had initially heard the recording, his stomach had turned. Both girls had released a blood chilling series of screams that sounded like a poor soul being torn apart. Unfortunately, each had firsthand experience now, and knew just what that level of agony, terror and despair sounded like.
The highway was empty of movement as Mark pulled out to the left, heading back towards Sydney and away from Milton. Georgie’s property was only a twenty-minute drive away, up a single lane road that exited from the Princes Highway further along. Both sat in silence between her directions. Georgie fidgeted in her seat, turning frequently to look behind them for sign of Carriers drawn by the car’s noise. As Mark turned off the highway to follow a narrow road to the west, Georgie spoke up.
‘You and Steph seem to be hitting it off over the last couple of weeks,’ she said, looking away from Mark and out her window.
‘Yeah, I’m not quite sure what you’re talking about, Georgie.’
‘Come one, Mark. You’re not blind or stupid. She’s a good-looking girl, and she’s obviously sweet on you.’
‘Well, nothing’s happened, if that’s what you’re asking. And if it had done, you’ve already made it clear that you’d finished with me, so I kind of fail to see where you’re going with this,’ he replied, a level or irritation entering his voice.
‘Fair enough. As you said, you’re a free man and all. I wouldn’t be the first person to realise what they wanted after it was lost though,’ said Georgie quietly.
‘You realised what?’ asked Mark, his attention taken away from the road by the last sentence.
‘Nothing,’ replied Georgie with a sigh. ‘Take a right onto that road – we’re here.’
Mark had to brake heavily to avoid overshooting the entrance. He pulled to a halt and Georgie jumped out of the passenger door to swing open the gate across the driveway. Mark drove through, then waited for her to close the gate once more and climb back in. He almost launched back into their conversation, but pulled himself up short. He’d blown it the last time he’d tried to force the issue, better to let her take the lead on this round.
Her parents’ farm lay on the edge of the MacDonald state forest, consisting of sixty acres of mixed paddock and native bush. Mark followed the gravel road deeper into the property. Paddocks of grass lay to either side of the drive, dotted with heavily-fleeced merino sheep awaiting a spring shearing. Two hundred metres in, they crossed a simple bridge constructed from railway sleepers over a creek. Mark’s eyes followed its path to the right, seeing where the creek had been dammed to provide an accessible water source for the sheep. Georgie tracked his gaze to the dam and her features softened at the sight.
‘My dad taught me to fish in that dam when I was a kid. He filled it with trout especially for us. I used to love lying back in the grass at the edge, not really caring if I caught anything or not. I bet there’s some monster sized rainbow trout in there nowadays for anyone keen.’
‘I didn’t know you could fish,’ said Mark with mild surprise.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mark,’ she said. ‘Too much time away was the problem – not that we have that hassle anymore.’
The road w
ound up a slope to the left, passing through a band of eucalypts before opening out once more. And then there it was. The house was beautiful; no wonder Georgie had always talked of it so fondly. As one of the earlier homesteads in the area, the exterior walls consisted of sandstone that had weathered over the intervening century, softening angles and corners. The single-level house was roofed with silver corrugated iron that thundered during a downpour, making the whole building come alive with the noise of the rain. A small garden extended from the front of the building, consisting of petite box hedges enclosing a rectangle with an ancient Frangipani tree as a centre feature. The tree extended naked silver branches to the sky, all leaves dropped for the winter months. The gravel driveway terminated at the door of a three-car garage that stood off to the left of the house as a separate building.
Georgie got out and typed a code into an electronic pad, causing the door to roll upwards. Mark parked the car and cut the engine, then Georgie quickly closed the door again behind the vehicle. Along the back wall of the garage were numerous inbuilt cupboards and he spotted a chest freezer at the far-left corner. A door was sited at the right, leading to the back of the house. He exited the car, walked outside and silently did a lap of the house looking for any danger, finishing at the front. Georgie’s light footsteps crunched on the gravel behind him and he turned to acknowledge her.
‘This place is amazing. Is it heritage listed?’
‘Yeah, although my dad reckons that’s more of a curse than benefit. It’s been in the family for generations.’
‘I can see why you love the place,’ he said. Something caught his eye down the slope in the distance, a moving figure closing in on an unaware sheep. ‘Shall we head inside?’ he added, ushering Georgie towards the front door quickly. She turned to see what threat had prompted his sudden haste as a high-pitched animal scream emanated from the lower paddock. They both looked back, seeing a man rise from the grass where the sheep had kicked him. The animal in question bolted away, blood streaming from a neck wound. The Carrier merely stumbled onwards, giving up on its prey to continue aimlessly forward.
Georgie hurriedly lifted a plant pot at the side of the path, uncovering a key to unlock the door. Mark followed her into the front hallway. The house was musty from prolonged closure while her parents were away overseas. Georgie pulled close the blinds in each room, trying to prevent accidental attraction of any further Carriers by their movements in the house. Although the heritage listing had prevented her parents altering the outside facade of the house, the interior was a different matter. Modern fittings and cool white walls lightened the rooms. Georgie gave him a quick tour, past the open-plan kitchen and living areas, four bedrooms and study.
‘Did you grow up here?’ Mark asked.
‘Until I was twelve, then my parents moved to Sydney. We still came here for school holidays, which was fine by me. The surf isn’t that far away, I spent most summers down the road at Mollymook beach.’
‘Sounds nice. So where’s the stuff that we need to pack into the car?’
Georgie led him back to the garage and unlocked one of the rear cupboards to reveal a gun safe. She typed in a code and the door clicked open revealing three 0.22 rifles and ammunition. Mark pulled each out in turn, running through a quick inspection of the firearms.
‘They’re in pretty good condition. Did your dad use them much?’
‘Only to knock off a few rabbits here and there,’ she replied.
Mark rested them back into the rack for the moment and walked towards the chest freezer. ‘Would have your parents left this on?’ he asked.
‘Worth a try. Mum usually pays one of the local butchers to slaughter and prepare a lamb once or twice a year.’
She joined him as he opened the lid, revealing a whole frozen side of lamb butchered into various cuts. Mark felt his mouth start to salivate at the thought of it cooked. Georgie pointed out a large esky perched on a high shelf.
‘We can pack that full of meat to take back with us. I don’t think anyone would complain at a change from canned ham and beans.’
Mark grinned as he reached up to retrieve it. ‘Anything else in here worth taking back?’
Georgie showed him where a stash of tools and camping equipment were stored, then left him to start loading the car with what he thought was useful. She headed inside to look through the pantry for food worth taking and her bedroom for extra clothes.
After thirty minutes, Mark had the Outback packed. The camping gear had provided a bounty of survival equipment that would prove invaluable if they were forced to leave the farm. Just when he thought he was done, he’d stumbled across a compact diesel generator with two Jerry cans of fuel. The electricity was bound to fail, and having a backup power supply would be a welcome crutch. Mark heaved the unit into the luggage cage on the car’s roof along with the Jerry cans.
The car now packed, he did another quick check around the outside of the house for any Carriers, then headed back inside to look for Georgie, entering the backdoor to the kitchen. Two milk crates of food stuffs were packed and waiting on an island bench. The house was warmer, a low background hum indicating that she had turned on the ducted heating. A shower was running in the bathroom. Mark leant forward and sniffed at his armpit, recoiling at the smell. He could really do with a wash himself and a clean change of clothes. The water turned off and five minutes later Georgie came into the room, with a large towel wrapped around her.
‘Do you want a shower while we’re here? The hot water’s awesome! I didn’t realise how bad I smelt until I picked up my clothes a second ago on getting out,’ she said, her nose wrinkled in disgust at herself.
Mark accepted the offer. Georgie showed him to the bathroom, handed him a bath towel and left him to it. He shut the door and for ten minutes he managed to forget the possible threat of Carriers moving through the property, as hot water pounded the stress out of his shoulders. It took two washes of his scalp to remove the dirt in his hair, and his skin noticeably changed colour to a lighter tone by the time he was finished scrubbing. Stepping out the water, he felt somewhat lighter, like the water had succeeded in washing away a part of the heaviness he’d held in his chest for the past few weeks, along with the grime. Mark dried off, then leant to retrieve his jeans and shirt from the ground. They stunk. Bad. There was no way he could put them back on now after just getting clean. He rolled the clothes up in a ball, and propped them on the edge of the bath for the moment. Hopefully Georgie’s dad or brother would have some clothes in their bedrooms that he could borrow for the meantime. Mark wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom.
He walked out to the living room looking for her. The temperature has risen further, with barely a chill left in the air to raise any goosebumps on his arms. A single floor board creaked behind him, giving away Georgie’s approach. He turned, and found her leaning against the doorway into the kitchen watching him.
She looked how Mark remembered her from before his last tour overseas, when she would spend the weekend padding about his Glebe flat procrastinating from study. She was barefoot in a pair of jeans. A Bonds singlet top hugged her torso and chest, accentuating her slender build. Her hair was pulled up behind her head in a simple bun, leaving her neck exposed. A light blush of colour pinked her cheeks as she stood biting one corner of her bottom lip, her left hand hidden behind her back as she unashamedly looked Mark up and down. She took her hand out from behind her back, displaying two opened bottles of beer.
‘I thought maybe you might want to join me for a drink?’ she said.
Mark, a little curious, moved forward to accept the bottle, only to have it pulled out of reach.
‘It’ll cost you, though,’ Georgie said, a slight shake to her voice.
‘And the price?’ a smile starting to tug at the corner of Mark’s mouth, at the cheesy opening she had often joked with before demanding a kiss when they were together.
‘Use your imagination, Mark.’
Mark stepped clo
ser, placing a hand on her hip to gently draw her toward him as he leant down to kiss her. Georgie pressed herself against him in response, answering his kiss firmly. Mark’s right hand lifted upwards to cup her breast, the nipple hardening under his palm as he kissed her neck, a light sigh escaping her lips as he reached her ear. Georgie pulled backwards, depositing the two bottles on the sideboard, and grabbed Mark’s hand, tugging him toward her bedroom. The beers could wait.
Mark and Georgie were lying in bed, her head resting on his shoulder and hand on his chest where she had drifted off to sleep afterwards. Mark ran one finger lightly over her skin, from shoulder to waist down the side of her body, tracing the soft contours as he tried to burn the memory into his brain. He had no idea if this was a one off, if it was a sign she wanted him back, or if it was just stimulated by jealousy at her thought of Steph being interested. Either way, it had been lovely to have her back again, even just for a short afternoon, with the travesty of the outside world expelled temporarily.
He glanced at his watch, the afternoon was racing away. If they stayed much longer, the others would worry that something had gone wrong. He squeezed his arm lightly about her in a hug at his side. She blinked her eyes open.
‘Crap, did I drift off? What’s the time?’ she said stifling a yawn.
‘You’ve only been dozing for thirty or so minutes. We better head back though.’
‘Do we have to?’ Georgie said, snuggling further into his embrace.
‘As much as I don’t want to leave this bed – we’ve got to get going. I don’t want to have to negotiate a bunch of Carriers on the way in the dark.’
‘Yeah, well I don’t want to meet any, full stop.’
They both wearily sat up, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Georgie fished her jeans off the ground with one toe, then started to pull her clothes back on. Mark only had the towel still.
Plague War: Outbreak Page 19
