The Journal of Tom Barnett: Vampire Apocalypse Survivor

by Daniel S. Atkinson

  I collected my bag and ran for it. What else could I have done? Ratting out to a teacher would have only prolonged my demise and in all likelihood increased Billy’s rage. I reckon I got halfway home before Billy caught up with me. That was when the severe panic set in. It must be the same terror an antelope feels when ambushed by a lion. Billy was hot on my heels at this stage. I felt his hand latch onto my backpack and jerk me off my feet. I wriggled out of the backpack and took off again. Billy threw my bag into the road in disgust and gave chase once again. He was toying with me now, really savouring the moment. He was jogging behind me calling out all kinds of juvenile names.

  He tired of this game quickly, probably because I didn’t respond. He surged ahead easily catching up to me. Just before Billy laid those vice like hands around my throat he was stopped in his tracks. I turned in astonishment wondering how I had been given such a reprieve from certain death. Billy looked just as astonished. His eyes were crossed, trying to look at his own forehead. His querying fingers came away bloody. A decent lump was beginning to form over a shallow cut right above his protruding Neanderthal brow.

  Big Billy looked around, his red face was so angry I feared steam would erupt from his ears. He found his antagonist, a wiry boy with a mop of curly blond hair. He was about the same age as Billy (a year older than me) but about half the size. Billy curled his fists into mini sledgehammers and stalked towards the newcomer. The boy just laughed right in Billy’s face! I couldn’t believe it and neither could Billy. He really got angry now. Huffing and puffing like a demented bull. This just made the curly haired boy laugh harder. Billy couldn’t stand this insolence any longer. He rushed at the boy. The boy stopped his merriment and grew deadly serious. He tossed the rock he was hiding behind his back into his right hand and took aim. The rock left his hand as if in slow motion. I tracked its course through the lazy, hot afternoon air. This kid was an absolute dead eye. The rock hit Billy’s forehead about three centimetres away from the previous wound.

  Billy fell to his knees stunned. All the fight had gone out of him. My saviour approached the larger boy casually tossing a new rock from hand to hand. The ease with which he moved and juggled the projectile was not lost on Billy. He cowered, still clutching his bruised head. The boy spoke, “The next time I ever see you around here or around my friends, I won’t go so easily on you.” Billy glared at him like a venomous snake. The boy flexed his arm in warning and Billy flinched. His resolve now fully broken, Billy fled down the street bruised and humiliated.

  This is how I first met Rory, my best mate.

  10th December. 20:20pm.

  I had been staring at the can of peaches for the last couple of hours. One part of me wanted to tear it open immediately and devour the contents. But another part of me urged caution. I need to conserve food as much as possible. Canned goods will be the only real source of food in the coming weeks. That’s assuming I last long enough to worry about such things. Let’s say I do continue to live, I shudder to think what I’ll be eating in the coming months and years. The canned goods are only finite. They have a shelf life too.

  Will I be forced to devolve? To become like our distant ancestors? We studied hunter / gatherer societies in school. The indigenous Australians managed to live in perfect harmony with this country for fifty thousand years. I can tell you they are a lot cleverer than me. What the hell do I know about hunting? What is there to hunt anyway? The only animals you find around here are pets, and I’m not that sick. At least not yet. Who knows what this fucked up situation will do to my mind.

  Rory had this book about serial killers. It was kind of an odd book for him to own, most of his interests were geared towards footy and fishing. Real outdoor stuff. He used to tell me all about different serial killers. I’m reminded about one fact that most of these psychos started out torturing and slaying small animals and pets when they were younger. It was only when they grew into adulthood did they start preying on larger victims – people. If I start killing pets for food will I turn into a monster as well? This is crazy. I don’t know why I’m thinking this way. There is no way I could hurt helpless animals, it makes me sick to think about it.

  Those peaches are going down. I’m tired and hungry. I’ll eat the peaches now. I can always search other houses tomorrow. I survived today’s little excursion and now I’ll reap the rewards.

  10th December. 20:42pm.

  Ahh. That was so good. I meant to save half of the can for later but I couldn’t stop. I even drank all the juice. My belly feels so full which is odd seeing it’s the only thing I’ve eaten all day. My stomach must be shrinking. Rory and I used to polish off an entire loaf of bread in one sitting. Especially after kicking the footy around for a few hours. I better lay down for a moment.

  10th December. 21:08pm.

  I feel guilty about stealing that food from my neighbours. Logically I know that it won’t make any difference to them. They are either dead or undead or a long way from here. They can’t possibly have any need for the meagre rations I stole. But it still burns away in the back of my mind that I’m a thief, I took something that wasn’t mine. I didn’t earn it.

  This all stems from an incident that occurred last year. Rory and I were on school holidays. I was in year ten, Rory in year eleven. Rory’s parents were overseas at the time so Rory was staying with us. Because Dad was working, he didn’t want me staying home by myself. He either didn’t trust me or he didn’t trust Rory, I can’t remember now. So during the day we were supposed to be under the watchful eye of my grandparents. That’s Dad’s parents. Mum’s folks were quite old when she was born and they died while I was very young.

  Come to think of it, you’re probably wondering why I didn’t stay with Mum. It’s not like she was busy or anything. She definitely wasn’t working. Let’s just say Dad would rather have Hannibal Lecter baby-sit me than her. It’s a long story, maybe for another time.

  So, where was I? Oh yeah, staying with my grandparents. Dad would drop us off every morning on his way to work. Nan and Pop live in Richmond in this amazing old terrace house. Now I love them to death, but it was like a prison sentence being cooped up in that dusty old mausoleum for two whole weeks. After one day of solitary confinement Rory and I were climbing the walls. So we hatched a plan. Rory went out to the backyard, made sure he was alone and called my mobile. I made sure I answered it while Nana was in the same room. I pretended to be talking to Mum, trying not to laugh at the ridiculous voice Rory was putting on. He had insisted on doing that just in case Nan overheard the conversation. I didn’t even bother to argue, once he has one of his dubious ideas there is no way of talking him out of it.

  With only a mild tinge of guilt, I told Nan that Mum would be looking after us tomorrow, possibly the rest of the week. I could see the disappointment in her face. My mild case of guilt ballooned to a full-fledged culpability. I soon got over it as Rory and I excitedly planned our approaching day of truancy. There was a tinge of fear that accompanied that excitement. This in turn increased the excitement and we could barely sleep that night, whispering to each other in the dark. In this very bedroom in fact. Rory would always sleep on the floor next to my bed. Dad has an inflatable bed stored in the garage. Another left over from our failed camping trips. At least Rory got to use it.

  The next morning Dad dropped us off outside Nana’s house. We got out of the car as quickly as possible hoping he wouldn’t stop as well. Rory had deliberately jumped in the shower just before we were due to leave our house. Dad was furious of course, he hated being late for work. It worked though, Dad barely grunted goodbye before he roared off leaving us on the footpath. Our next fear was that Nan and Pop would see us outside their house. We waited just long enough for Dad’s car to disappear around the corner and then we were running. We ran until we were out of breath and then collapsed laughing at the exhilaration.

  It was a fantastic day. It took us a while to find the nearest train station, but once that task was done we made our way into the
city. The CBD of Melbourne is an interesting place for two teenage boys. We checked out some music at JB, read the comic books at Minotaur, ate a ton of junk food and caught a movie at the old Greater Union theatres. We even met these three girls who were hanging around in Bourke St. Rory just waltzed right up to them. It’s not like he has anything amazing to say or any special technique. He just chats about normal stuff. But his success just comes down to being likable and confident. It also helps he’s a good-looking rooster. The girls were from some fancy all girl private school. I think it was Gennazo. They were good fun, although one was really stuck up. Rory even got a kiss from the nicest one. It was only a peck and I think her friends had dared her. But that didn’t matter to Rory, he was so full of himself for the next few weeks it was unbearable.

  As I said it was a fantastic day. Probably one of the best I ever had. Rory still talks about it to this day. I don’t look back on it as fondly as he does. This is due to one small incident, a small incident that turned into one monumental fuck up. We were in Borders reading their magazines when I wandered over to their graphic novel section. They had a copy of The Dark Knight Returns, Frank Miller’s wicked Batman tale. Rory looked over my shoulder and said, “That’s the one you’ve been talking about. Yeah?” I nodded. I had wanted a copy of this for ages. I flipped it over and read the price tag, forty bucks. Even though I had some previous idea how expensive it was my head must have dropped a bit in disappointment. I would never be able to save up that much, not unless I gave up everything else. And Dad would never get it for me, he thought comics were a waste of paper. “Read a book instead,” he would say. Rory whispered conspiratorially, “Take it man.”

  “No way,” I responded.

  “Quick, do it now. The chick is looking that way.”

  I don’t know why I did it but I shoved the comic inside my jacket. It happened so quickly that I didn’t think twice. Maybe I was all caught up in the excitement of the day, I don’t know. We left the store quickly. My heart was thumping as we passed through the threshold. If I was nervous then, it was nothing compared to how I felt when a large hand gripped my shoulder. I don’t want to delve too deeply into the details, but I was in a world of shit. I was lucky I wasn’t arrested. The police did get involved and Dad had to come down to the station to get me. The look on his face was just awful, the disappointment showing through more than the anger. I have never felt so humiliated and ashamed in all my life. It was horrible.

  This is why I feel so bad now. I wish I never had to steal that food. But I’ll starve otherwise.

  11th December. 06:44am.

  Slept the whole night through. Woke up on the couch with my leg squashed underneath me. I could hardly stand on it. It was all cramped and sore. It took me a good ten minutes to rub some feeling into it. I must not have moved an inch the entire night. I was totally exhausted from yesterday’s adventures.

  I’m going to start getting ready to go out again soon. It looks quiet outside today.

  11th December. 10:15am.

  I have just nearly died of fright. Not the kind of fright where an undead ghoul is about to bite you. I’m talking about the kind of fright where some wanker jumps out from behind a door and yells, “BOO.”

  I had decided to leave by the front door this morning. It was just as safe as the back door during daytime and I wouldn’t have to climb that fence. I had just placed my hand on the doorknob when someone knocked. It scared the living shit out of me. I jumped backwards as if the doorknob I was holding suddenly became electrified. I fell heavily on my backside staring in dumb shock at the door looming above me.

  My visitor knocked again. This time with more force. I didn’t move a muscle. I didn’t know what to think. They didn’t knock a third time but I could hear whomever it was moving around out there. I heard them trampling on the bushes, they must have been trying to look in the front window. Then they moved around to the side fence, I heard them rattling the gate there. Fortunately it was locked up tight.

  I waited anxiously to see what would happen next. What if they get in here? Who or what was out there? Have the vampires somehow evolved to exist in the sunshine? Was it some psycho killer, an ordinary man driven insane by these events? Has he come here to cannibalise me thinking somehow he has become one of those monsters?

  You can see the state of my fevered imagination. Thankfully all these fears dissolved when I heard the kindly tones of Mr. Robinson come floating through the door. I knew it was him instantly because he said, “Hello? It’s Jerry Robinson from next door. Hello?” I kept my mouth shut as tight as a duck’s bum. He continued, “I know you are in there son, I saw you venture out yesterday. I also watched your Dad leave. What I’m not sure about is whether he returned or not. Are you all alone in there? Are you safe?”

  Although I never responded to this one sided conversation, Mr. Robinson never grew angry or frustrated once. His voice rang clear with conviction and concern. “If you are alone in there, and I believe you are, I want you to know you are always welcome at our place. We have plenty of food and water. I managed to fill up all the sinks and the bathtub with water before it cut out. Unfortunately you won’t find much food in the surrounding area. I have cleared out the majority of it already. We have a nice stockpile in our living room. You are more than welcome to as much as you like.”

  He paused there and seemed to leave for a few moments. When he returned he sounded a bit out of breath. “I’ve left a little present for you over the fence. There is plenty more where that came from. When you feel like it, come over and have a chat. My daughter and I would love some company.” He left again and I exhaled loudly. I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath. I was climbing to my feet when he returned one last time. “Oh and Tom, I think your name is Tom, please forgive me if I’m wrong. If you do come on over, please come during daylight hours. I’m sure you know already to do so else you wouldn’t have survived so long. And stay inside at night. You will be quite safe. They cannot enter any occupied home unless invited by the resident. Even that Dark Man is powerless against this rule. Goodbye for now son.”

  I remained rooted to the spot for a moment trying to absorb the encounter. After the initial fright had worn off I ran over to the back window and looked into the back yard. A bulging plastic bag lay on the lawn. I retrieved it eagerly and sat at the kitchen bench examining its contents. Mr. Robinson had provided me with a tin of baked beans, some slices of bread and a litre of water. The bread was a bit tough but more than edible. I gobbled the baked beans up no worries. I even used the last of the bread to mop up the sauce left in the tin. He had also written a note. It was pretty much a rehash of what he had talked about before. He had included it in case I couldn’t hear him from inside the house.

  The water tasted slightly of soap but I didn’t mind at all. I sipped at it gratefully and mulled over what he had said. It made sense that Mr. Robinson had gathered up all the food from the neighbourhood. The one cupboard I had investigated was empty. It wasn’t like he was greedy, as evidenced by my full belly. He was just being practical, trying to provide safety and sustainability for himself and his daughter. I still don’t trust him completely. This is irrational I know, but hey, this is an irrational world at the moment. It won’t hurt to at least talk to them. Not today though. I still feel weird about it all. I don’t know why, but I have to work up the courage first. Maybe tomorrow. By then my stomach will overcome my willpower.

  What was more interesting was his reference to the Dark Man. That must be the guy I saw the other night. The one who was leaping around like a panther. He must be a part of the infection some how. Mr. Robinson said the Dark Man (and the vampires) are unable to enter an occupied house. What the hell is all that about? It seems to work though. The Robinson’s have had a large contingent of nocturnal visitors for days now. And not once have any of them ventured too close. It must apply to my place as well. Thank god for that. If it didn’t apply this house would have been flooded with the creatures on the first
night. I wouldn’t have lasted the first hour.

  11th December. 20:32pm.

  Just before dusk I went into a weird panic. I was watching the sun set from my bedroom window. The night was particularly warm. Summer was fast approaching. I had the curtain drawn back and the window flung wide open for the first time in days. I was being bold now, the one sided conversation with Mr. Robinson had empowered me somehow. I felt a bit safer with the knowledge he was just across the way. Having an adult around who had some semblance of control over the situation was immensely comforting.

  His little daughter had spotted me sitting up there and waved. I returned the wave and her beaming smile. It was infectious. She rushed away and returned with her father. I waved at him too. It felt like an enormous burden had been lifted from my shoulders. The crushing weight of losing my parents, the constant strain of dealing with death all around me each night, it just seemed to evaporate when I saw that little girl’s sweet innocent face. There was someone else out there, someone I could share the burden with.

  This was when I flew into a panic. All of a sudden I couldn’t bear to spend another night alone. Another night on this island, surrounded by a sea of blood. A sea of blood filled with circling, ravenous fiends. I rushed around the bedroom stuffing clothes into my school backpack. Mr. Robinson’s clear voice called out across the way halting my packing. I went back to the window. He was standing at his front door. When he saw me he called out, “Tom it’s too late tonight. The sun is about to set.”

  ‘I can make it,’ I replied pleadingly. He could sense my anxiety and shook his head sadly. I began to argue again but he just pointed down our shared driveway to the row of townhouses beyond. The sun had disappeared behind the tallest structure. As if on cue, vampires began to spill out of the dwellings. They looked like maggots oozing out of rotten slabs of meat.