Apocalypse Diary of a Survivor [Book 3]

by Matt J. Pike

  I dashed for the lookout and leapt the two flights of stairs as quick as I could, hoping to catch Jonesy’s missile do its thing. Just as I reached the lookout level, I heard him yell, “Fire!”

  I was over by the window when I heard the engine groan into life.

  From up on high, I could make out the entire battle space. The ash sweeper had made it all the way to where Hutt Rd and Glen Osmond Rd intersected in the parklands! That was a good 200m of progress from Greenhill Rd – I knew that in an instant because it was a key marker point for working out our trebuchet range when we were planning for this moment. That intersection was at the outer limits of our firing capacity. Hence the dilemma Jonesy was currently having with the extra weight. I also knew, in that same instant, that somewhere along the line, someone in our team had missed something massive, because there was no way they swept 200m of ash in a few hours. Just no way, surely.

  It was so much to take in, in a moment. The whole scene – the place that’d been the most benign and boring site of ash nothingness was now afire with activity. I tried to stay in the moment and keep a level head, because I didn’t know whether I’d have a chance to study it again. Behind the ash sweeper were a number of SUVs. A few had their doors open, with people positioned behind them, firing on our location. It was hard to know the exact numbers they had, but it must’ve been at least 40. Not their entire force, but a whole lot more than the seven that were defending for us before backup arrived. In fact, that was more than us, period!

  Then a speeding ball of fire went hurtling through the air, burying itself in the ash just short of the sweeper. The impact, which I could hear from the lookout, sent a spray of ash over the truck’s cabin. Although it missed, it was a serious display of power. It would’ve scared the crap out of them I reckon. Especially the sucker driving!

  I was still shocked at the scene in front of me – and the fact that we were now lighting the bowling balls on fire before shooting them – not sure when that idea happened. In fact, those 30-odd seconds set the tone for everything that was to follow. None of it was going to the plan – certainly not my plan, at least. So, I guess I had a realisation at that moment – there’s the plan and there’s what’s actually happening. Those two things shared absolutely no connection. I figured the sooner I could let go of the former and roll with the latter, the better off I’d be.

  Shane yelled down to Jonesy at how close they’d gotten to a hit. He told them to set up the exact same shot and wait for his call to fire. Then Shane and I watched to see what Norwood’s response would be. We didn’t know if they were aware of our trebuchet capability or not before tonight, but they certainly were now.

  It’s not something you can ignore really, no matter how confident you were on your numbers. So, we figured whatever they did next would tell us a lot.

  They were, quite literally, at a crossroads. Their quickest path to the city wall was to veer down Hutt St, but that was marching directly towards our trebuchet. If they continued on Glen Osmond Rd, which ran diagonally through the parklands, they would be giving themselves well over 100m more of ash to churn through before they reached our wall, but potentially a safer path. That’s assuming they didn’t know we had another trebuchet ready to activate where Glen Osmond Rd hit South Tce at Pulteney St.

  Shane and I both knew the best result was for their convoy to continue down Glen Osmond Rd as it would leave them exposed in no-man’s land for a lot longer.

  Meanwhile, Shane had binoculars trained on the cabin of the ash sweeper. “He’s talking on a radio,” he said.

  Whatever the conversation, a resolution wasn’t happening in a hurry. They didn’t move for the longest time.

  I started mumbling “C’mon, c’mon,” under my breath, before realising Shane was doing the same.

  “He’s put down the radio,” said Shane, eventually.

  Seconds later, the ash sweeper chugged into gear again. It didn’t take long for its new intended direction to start to shape. It was pushing forward down Glen Osmond Rd.

  “Yes!” said Shane and I in unison.

  Before I headed downstairs, the two of us hatched a plan of attack. I was going to take the new crew down Glen Osmond Rd. We were going to travel in darkness so as not to give away our position, then lie in wait. Meanwhile, Shane, Jonesy and crew would continue their attack. When the enemy had halved the distance to the wall, I’d begin the second attack. This would leave the ash sweeper, and whatever vehicles that followed, pinned in a seriously disadvantageous position.

  We also knew we had a couple of Jonesy booby traps that could give them an additional surprise. There were a lot of variables and unknowns, but it seemed like as good a place to start as any.

  I went to head down, but Shane grabbed me by the shoulder as he reached for his two-way. He called in to Lana at the oval to see if everything was OK along East Tce. Once he got the OK, he released his grip and followed me downstairs.

  We outlined the plan, then everyone gathered for a somewhat impromptu group hug. After that, I gathered my crew and we headed back to Phoenix and the other rides, then made our way to the next lookout, ensuring we kept a block or two back from South Tce at all times.

  Once we arrived, the intensity of fire had lifted again back at Shane’s lookout. I took Alyce up the lookout to see what sort of a view of the action we had. Ye-jun and Kelly followed, with Dianne and David not far behind. Soon we were all spying over the action.

  While a flare helped light up the area, our distance was making visibility tough. Not only that, all the movement from the Norwood crew, as well as the impact of the bowling balls, had kicked up a lot of ash from the ground. It was misty, maybe even blurry. You could still make out shapes though. It was probably a guess in terms of people from this range, but you could still make out the SUVs and you could see the ash sweeper had made significant ground in the time it took us to go between the two lookouts. It was at least 20m city-side of the intersection, probably more.

  It was the first chance I really had to study it doing its thing. The driver would get a run up and plough the sweeper straight into the long-settled ash. The metal shape at the front of the truck would curl the ash away and over the side of the road. After 3-4m all momentum was lost and he’d throw it into reverse, get another run up and start again.

  Then I realised there was every chance they had broken all that ground tonight. If true, that was a whole lot scarier than someone missing something from our side.

  “If it keeps that up, I think we’ve got about 15 minutes until we fire back,” said Kelly.

  “And we’ll have to aim the trebuchet in the right direction,” said Ye-jun, gesturing to our engine, currently angled halfway between Glen Osmond Rd and Unley Rd.

  “And quietly,” I reminded everyone.

  “How much counterweight is it carrying?” asked Alyce.

  No one had an answer. It was time to go downstairs and get busy. I asked Ashleigh and his boys to stay on lookout. Ashleigh was pretty cluey – enough to work out which changes in the battle space were worth reporting. And the boys could be used to ferry the messages, rather than yelling down from lookout to ground level – especially while we were trying to operate in silence.

  With 10 of us working the trebuchet, it wasn’t much to get it into position. As far as how loaded the counterweight box was, that was anybody’s guess.

  Half the metal weight was already loaded into the machine, we just added the rest and hoped for the best.

  The worst part about our amazing game-changing weapons was we only had one chance to make a surprise first attack – one. And we had absolutely no idea how it’d perform. We guessed that all the weight provided was enough to get the ammo out to the 300m+ mark, but there was no way we could know.

  Just as an unnecessary reminder, the sound of the truck grew louder again. That, the pitter-patter of gunfire and the occasional twisted agony of the trebuchet in motion were the signs that everything was slowly closing in on us.


  “Shall I get the weapons?” said Dianne, David by her side.

  I nodded. As she headed back to the car, Jacob ran to our position. “Dad saysyou’ve moved it too far clockwise. You need to angle it back about three degrees.”

  Then Dianne and David were back with the guns and ammo. Just as they opened the crate, things went next level over in no-man’s land. Another flare shot into the air just as the sounds of gunfire went crazy. I sprinted for the lookout and up the stairs to try to find out what the hell was happening.

  It took a couple of seconds to process it all before I clued in, then laughed. The ash sweeper had triggered one of Jonesy’s booby traps. This had ignited the flare, which I expected, and a bunch of firecrackers, which I certainly did not. I think that was a Jonesy joke just to amuse himself at the time. I don’t think the dude in the ash sweeper thought it was very funny. He was taking cover under the dashboard. It was too far away for me to tell but I decided I could see him shaking like a leaf.

  Where there was a flare booby trap, I knew there’d be a puncture booby trap not far away, too.

  I got on the two-way and had a short conversation with Shane about our next move. We decided we’d wait until they were another 50m closer before we’d attack. It meant they were deep enough in that it’d be a battle to work their way out, but not too far in that the wall would seem like an easier target than retreat. However, if the sweeper became crippled with punctures, it would be all-out attack.

  I headed back down to inform everyone else. We had five guns in our crate – three rifles and two pistols. I put Dianne and David in charge of sorting out who should get what and where. I also suggested sending someone down the road a bit with one of the rifles to see if they could find another attack spot

  closer to the sweeper’s position. Having shots come at them from another point would also make our numbers harder to guess, too.

  I put Kelly and Ye-jun in charge of trebuchet duty, then I headed back upstairs to have eyes on the action, so I’d know the exact moment we were supposed to attack.

  The sweeper pushed forward another 22 metres before it hit trouble. I couldn’t see or hear anything related to the tyres but it stopped for no apparent reason. Through the binoculars, Ashleigh could see the man in the cabin consulting on his radio. Shane called in on his radio. The signal was starting to crackle with all the ash being kicked up into the air. Without knowing for sure, we were almost certain the sweeper had blown tyres. Shane gave the order – it was time.

  I nodded to Ash, then bolted back to the trebuchet. Within a minute we had launched the first bowling ball over the wall with fingers crossed. A few seconds later we heard a thud, followed by more anguished yelling beyond the wall. David, who was positioned on the wall, with rifle pointed at the enemy, said he lost track of the shot, but he reckoned it was long.

  Soon after Jacob was down from the lookout to tell us we were 30m too long and about the same distance too far left. Ye-jun took some of the load out of the counterweight box until we were both happy. We readjusted the angle, then hoisted the weight aloft once more.

  While all that was going on, we heard another thud.

  David turned to tell us Shane’s team had only missed the sweeper by centimetres.

  That got us even more pumped for our next shot, which we fired off shortly after. Again, a few seconds wait before a loud thud.

  “So close!” said David. “Aim another 5m further back and a couple more metres to the right.

  Just as the words fell from his mouth we started to hear gunfire flying around us. David ducked for cover, while we started making the adjustments for the next shot.

  Jessie ran the next message from his dad, relaying what David had told us, with almost identical numbers. The he added, “Something’s happening with the SUVs. Dad says they might be getting ready to grab the driver.”

  I nodded my thanks and he headed back.

  Then came a crashing, crunching echoing sound of twisted metal. Those of us at the trebuchet all stood up, waiting to hear confirmation of we assumed had happened.

  “Direct hit!” said David. “I can’t see that side of the truck, but the whole thing shook!”

  We shared hi-5s before doing the final calculations on our next shot.

  We fired. Seconds later – bang!

  David screamed out, “Whoo-hoo! Direct hit. Ploughed into the front – there’s a crater in it! And the windscreen’s smashed.”

  Then Jacob was at my side. “Jonesy hit them!”

  “So did we,” I added.

  Then he added, “Dad says two SUVs are heading in with their lights off.”

  I updated everyone in the vicinity as Jacob headed back upstairs and we prepared another shot. We heard the sound of another direct hit from Jonesy – David informed us it was the back corner of the cabin.

  These were the perfect conditions for the trebuchets. Both had honed in on their target – within range and not moving. We had a deadly advantage over Norwood and one of their most important assets. We had to make the most of it.

  David continued his updates. “I think something’s caught fire in the cabin. Dude’s got the passenger side door open but he doesn’t know whether to stay or go.”

  “Let me know as soon as those SUVs arrive – and exactly where they park in relation to the front of the truck,” I said.

  David paused for a second before it all clued in for him. He sank into the wall ash and eyed the enemy down the scope of his rifle again.

  Then Jessie was gasping for air by the trebuchet once more, letting us know two SUVs were approaching – lights off. David repeated the information seconds later then took to a running commentary of how they were approaching.

  It’s funny. Sometimes the most obvious thoughts take a little while to process with so much going on around you. This was one of those times. It was only when I gathered everyone together to throw up ideas for a plan, while we had a little bit of time to do so, that we made more sense of the situation that was headed our way. The ash sweeper was clearing about a lane and a half width of road with the way it was ploughing through the parklands. The path was wider than the truck itself, but not wide enough for an SUV to pull up beside it.

  It meant there was no way we’d get a clear shot of the two cars. It also meant we had to put a little more in the counterweight box to aim at the SUVs. We also started to realise what a risky situation this had become for those in the advancing SUVs. They were totally exposed to Jonesy’s trebuchet the entire time. Add to that they had very little room to turn around, meaning their best plan to get out was probably going to be to reverse – one after the other – in the heat of battle. Just one mistake into the sides of their ash road would potentially get them stuck. They’d be sitting ducks like the ash sweeper.

  We held most of the cards.

  We positioned more weight beside the trebuchet in readiness to fire on them as they retreated. We were just waiting for David’s word to launch the next shot. Meanwhile Jonesy’s team had sent another couple of shots at the sweeper – one hitting it in the side and one flying just over the top.

  David called the final metres of the approach. “They’re coming in to the left side of the sweeper... getting close... slowing... slowing... and go!”

  I pulled the pin and sent a bowling ball flying over the wall.

  Seconds later the thud of another miss echoed back to us.

  “Too far left – 3m! And too far back.”

  We started adjusting and loading the engine as a serious burst of enemy fire echoed into the night. Bullets flew through the air above us, while Dianna and David returned the favour in between updates and swear words. Actually, there was a little tempo to it all.

  “They’ve got him from the cabin.”

  Another burst of fire.

  Some swearing.

  “They’re heading back to the SUVs”

  Gunfire.

  Swearing.

  We launched again.

  “Getting in.”<
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  Thud of a miss.

  Gunfire.

  Swearing.

  Then we heard the crash of metal twisting before Dianne and David screamed out the success of Jonesy’s strike on the car closest to the sweeper.

  We hoisted the counterweight up again as the sound of gunfire escalated again. Dianne and David dropped off comms as they engaged the enemy.

  Jacob came down to inform us the driver had left the cabin and headed back to the SUVs. I decided I needed a big picture view again and, after launching the next shot, followed Jacob back up to the lookout.

  I got there to find a scene of chaos in no-man’s land. The sweeper looked a broken wreck. Behind it, one of the SUVs fared even worse – twisted and on fire. The second SUV was already reversing into the distance, with two hubbers jogging alongside it – ducking while they went, using the vehicle as a shield.

  There was a body in between the two SUVs. Then I noticed someone still at the first SUV, reaching into the burning vehicle, presumably trying to pull someone free. He soon gave up and sprinted after the retreating car. Bullets scattered around him, but he made his escape.

  Both trebuchets fired again within seconds of each other, the ammo crisscrossing in the air and falling short of the reversing SUV.

  Once it reached the intersection, it wheeled around to face the direction of its escape, then headed for the larger pack, with three people now using it for cover. Another minute later it had regrouped with the fleet on safe ground.

  There was a stand-off for several minutes, with the occasional exchange of gunfire. Then the Norwood fleet moved out, heading home with their tail between their legs.

  We cheered loud and hard.

  We all knew it wasn’t the end. We all knew they’d be back and they had plenty more to throw at us, but in that moment it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Just that moment. Sending them back as losers. Letting them know we weren’t going to be the easy pickings they’d found elsewhere. If they wanted to beat us, they knew they would have a fight on their hands. It would cost lives. It already had.