by Matt J. Pike
That’s a lot to take in.
We’d set up a little grave site, in the corner of our grounds by the Cathedral… it seemed like the appropriate spot.
It was on the way back someone saw the leaf. One of the trees in the parklands had produced a new leaf. We must’ve walked right past it when we were carrying the bodies out, but nobody had noticed. But there it was, green and healthy and new. Someone called it a miracle, a gift from Brian, Nick and Craig. Miracles aren’t really my thing, but the timing certainly brought tears to my eyes again. We were soon sweeping the parklands inside the oval walls and found another two trees with little leaves.
By the time we’d found three, it was definitely a miracle, according to a growing number of the others.
To be honest, they could’ve splashed any label they wanted to on it; the fact was regeneration in the trees set into motion a whole bunch of possibilities about a sustainable future. If we could farm this land, somehow, and we could get the ducks breeding in decent numbers, we could just survive this end of the world thing after all. Even if it takes us another year to get things set up. We had plenty of supplies to raid to see us through most of that.
Miracle or not, those little green leaves give us hope.
*
The camp was abuzz during lunch. The miracle thing had well and truly stuck by then. It almost allowed everyone to think forward without the guilt of looking back, because it was the three dead who had provided this new future.
Shane was talking everyone through his plan of using the remaining lights from the tower to convert some of the indoor cricket nets into a giant hydroponic set-up. Ideas were coming from everywhere with what to grow, where we can get seeds from etc.
That’s where things got weird.
There was a call from the lookout one that two people were approaching. After a bit of toing and froing, they had decided they weren’t Norwood hubbers. In fact, the reason they knew this is they were asking for me by name. Now, I would’ve been more than a little suspicious of all this had they not said one of their names was Alyce.
Alyce. Alyce was here! My message, well, series of messages, had led them to the park with the gazebo, to my house and now to here.
Shane, Ye-jun and Kelly decided to join me as I headed over to greet her and her male companion, who I assumed was Scott. My mind was racing with future possibilities as I headed out from between the grandstands and through the gate to my old friends. This would be just what I needed; people I knew pre-rock, a missing link to the past that nobody else could ever fill, no matter how close we got.
But I forgot one thing in that walk to the wall. This world is evil genius.
I recognised Alyce, even with her worn clothes, the dirt on her face and her noticeably skinnier frame. I didn’t recognise her travelling companion at first, all I knew was it wasn’t Scott. She started walking to me as I got close enough to recognise, our pace accelerated until we were in each other’s arms in an embrace that was months of heartache in the making. She started crying, a happy cry, and I joined her.
I told her I had been to her house and asked her about Scott and Jodie. They were gone, she told me. Then she introduced me to her friend Duncan.
I looked up to see a face I would never forget. Duncan, Josh’s friend Duncan, Josh who killed Fi. That Duncan. Here. We recognised each other in an instant. He reached out to shake my hand nervously, while Alyce was talking him up as someone who had saved her life.
Then she must’ve seen the exchange in our eyes and asked what was going on. With her and the others watching on, it was too much. I said, “Nothing,” and shook his hand. It was too much info in too short a space of time. I didn’t know how to react. I just invited him into our world – probably the last person I’d want in there – except for the fat man.
After introductions, we all headed back to the oval together. Before long, they were given a tour of the facilities, then shown the ropes of what’s required to be one of our group. For the rest it was an easy equation - we needed people, here were people who were already known. It was a no-brainer. The same for Alyce. But for me, and probably Duncan, it was something else entirely.
I don’t know how I’m going to handle this situation. Is it something I keep to myself? Do I tell Shane… or Alyce… or Ye-jun? Maybe I’ll just end up telling Fi for now.
Evil genius.
*
We feasted again that night. This was a true feast. We had no enemy at our gates and we could relax, truly relax. That’s a rare commodity in this world. Well, everyone else could relax as they told tales of those who we’d buried and introduced themselves to our newest members. I was a long way from relaxed. The day I lost Fi will haunt me forever and Duncan’s role in that day will never be forgotten. True, he did leave when Josh flipped out, but he was there in the moment that the best thing the post-rock world ever gave me was taken away.
I just kept looking for ways I could forgive him, what mountain of feats he would have to climb to prove himself worthy of redemption. The truth is, there is probably no way he can ever do that, and even if I can find forgiveness, I will never forget.
*
After Shane proposed a toast to people lost and people found, which was quiet well worded for him (must’ve not had as many scotches tonight – Steph’s influence maybe), he suggested blowing the oval’s siren three times in memory of our three fallen comrades.
Someone was worried that others would hear it and it might attract them to the oval. I mean, that thing is loud and would be heard kilometres away! After much debate it was decided this was a good thing. We still needed people, and if the siren alerted those far away, above the tsunami lines, that there was life in the city, then maybe we could start to rebuild, picking up survivors as we went, selling them on our way of life and the promises to rebuild that we have sold ourselves on.
Maybe, just maybe, it could work. And when the Norwood hubbers came back, which they would, we wouldn’t be the skeleton force they were planning for.
Who knows, this could be the dumbest collective idea we’ve ever had, fuelled by victory, green leaves, new companions and belief. But I think I was like everyone else there – if there’s a chance it could work, it’s a chance worth taking. Because right now, we all believe in something, and that something is rebuilding, not just ourselves but our world. We are all looking for the new normal, a way of life where we can all feel safe and live in peace. I reckon that’s worth taking a risk on and so does everyone else.
So, with the encouragement of a cheering crowd, Shane disappeared up into the pavilion stand. A couple of minutes later that sound blared out around the stadium and echoed into the darkness beyond. Three loud siren blasts, followed by another round of applause and many laughs. Even I laughed, for the first time since I’d seen Duncan. I knew this moment was bigger than me or him or any painful history we shared. We, this odd group of survivors, living on an oval inside the muck of a tsunami blast, had just summoned the future to come at us. We had been knocked to the canvas, fought our way back to our feet while the referee counted, knocked out the champion then said “who’s next”!
That’s a pretty good feeling.
*
I chatted to Fi about Duncan tonight… and everything else going on in my world. She’s a patient listener. She really helped me calm my thoughts down, too. Between the Norwood hubbers, Duncan, the community, the oval, a potential new influx or random strangers, building our defences, creating a sustainable food ecosystem, and collecting enough supplies to last until we do, well, there’s plenty to keep me occupied.
Is it perfect? A long way off. But I wouldn’t trade it in for anything else in the world right now. The only things worth trading for are no longer part of this world, and this life, however unimagined it was a year ago, is the one I’ve got. Compared to the other lives I’ve seen post-rock, it ain’t that bad.
Bring on tomorrow.
*
THE END
Alms for an aut
hor
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About the author
Like the legendary R M Williams, Matt was born in Jamestown in rural South Australia. But that’s where the remarkable similarities between these two end. While Reginald went from bushman to world renowned millionaire outback clothing designer, Matt is a complete dag who was lured by the city lights of Adelaide. Kindergarten in the big smoke was a culture shock, but it was here he first discovered his love of storytelling.
In high school that love found an outlet in a series of completely unflattering cartoons about fellow students and teachers alike. He survived long enough to further his art into a successful career in multimedia design but, like a zombified leech, the lure of the written word gnawed at him, forcing him to pen his first novel, the award-winning sci-fi comedy epic Kings of the World. It was followed the next year by Amazon Australia dystopian sci-fi best-seller Apocalypse: Diary of a Survivor.
Matt donates part-proceeds of each book sold to find a cure for Rett Syndrome, a neurological condition that affects the youngest of his three children, Abby. As a gorgeous Rett angel, Abby cannot walk, talk or use her hands in a meaningful way. So, not only are each of your book purchases a ticket to fantastically rounded, character driven, hilarious and poignant sci-fi awesomeness, it wraps you in a warm feeling you’ve made a difference to people who deserve your help. Like the zombified leech it’s a no-brainer.
