Apocalypse Diary of a Survivor [Book 3]

by Matt J. Pike

  I knew the parklands were about 500m wide, which meant we had to wind up to the maximum to reach the target. Of course trajectory angle was a key component in that measure and we had no idea where to set the angle, aside from keeping it as it was... basically the first shot was a whole lot of guess work.

  Oh, and we made sure to keep our heads down. The weapon had been nicely built into the ruins of the hotel around it. Even some of the fallen stones had been piled back up to minimise its presence and to keep things as safe as possible for those firing it. Snipers and alike – you always had to assume someone or something was trained on you. Anyway, the ballista had a defensive plate on the front and the spears fired out a through a small slit in the front. The gap was wide enough to give us a good view of everything we needed. It felt pretty safe – at least as safe as it possibly could.

  Asha looked at me once it was all set up and I nodded my approval back. Really, we were both as clueless as the other as to what would happen. She released the pin and the ballista chu-chunked the spear into life. You could hear it fzzz into the distance, too. As soon as the weapon stopped bouncing back and forward, we swooped in to see where our ammo had landed.

  Can you believe we both missed it! Did not even see it. At all.

  I handed Asha another spear and told her to fire it again. I looked for a place to better see what was going on, while hopefully staying out of enemy scopes.

  I searched the front wall until I found a potential spot. It was a little v-shape in the wall. Not ideal and totally not safe, but it was the best I could find. I nodded to Asha my intention and she gave me an ‘are you sure?’ look back. I worked my way past the rubble underfoot and found a comfortable spot to perch myself so I could keep my head as low as possible, yet watch on in a somewhat comfortable position.

  I looked at Asha again and gave her the thumbs up. She let another spear loose. This time I watched it sail out into no-man’s land. As majestic as it looked leaving the machine, it fell well short where it mattered most. Good speed, seemingly a pretty good aim, but way too flat. I went back over to Asha and we made what seemed like the necessary adjustments.

  We had to be quick. The cloud was closing in on the ash sweeper, we only had 3-4 more shots in us before we were firing blind. We angled the weapon to compensate for the flatness of the last shot. Once done I headed back to my spot while Asha loaded the tension then, after sharing a nod, she fired. This shot fell about 30m short of the ash sweeper and a little to the right.

  It landed close enough to worry the enemy, though. The truck stopped its activity. Not surprising. If the driver had seen the size of the chunk of spear before it ploughed into the ash, disappearing forever. It would not have taken a rocket scientist to know he was in trouble if one hit his cabin.

  Meanwhile, we adjusted the ballista and loaded up again. A stationary target was far better than a moving one. This shot landed just short of the front driver’s side wheel, which again caused action in the truck’s cabin. This time he moved forward again – continuing his path to our wall.

  As we went to load the next shot, Shane popped his head out from the remains of the doorway. “Keep at ’em. You’re close.”

  We tweaked the angle and prepared for another shot while Shane updated us on news from South Tce. “The sweeper out there is staying out of range until the cloud rolls in. There’s nothing they can do yet – the ballista is useless.”

  I watched as our next shot landed just beyond the truck, but right in line. I swore and jumped back to help Asha.

  “Anyway, the only good shot right now is on you guys. Hurt ’em,” said Shane before disappearing.

  Then we heard the sound of a bullet ricochet into some of the wall rubble not more than 10 metres away. It was a bit hard to tell if that was a shot at us gone wrong, or a random guess shot meant to generally scare. It didn’t matter either way – it worked!!

  It was a great reminder to stay low when I was on spear watch. I can’t even describe the thought process required to stick my head into that gap again. Closest attempt would be to forget there were bullets out there. But it wasn’t entirely that because you’re reminded with each bullet that zings past or the sound of impact near you. It’s more you just have to convince yourself that you’re not going to get hit... with the added rider of, if you do, you won’t know much about it anyway.

  Whatever I was feeling would’ve been about the same as the truck driver with each death spear plugging closer and closer to his totally exposed thin metal cabin.

  That poor sucker was the most exposed person in New Adelaide at that moment. But the safety blanket was coming. Kent Town was now totally obscured behind the truck and the grey mistiness was already obscuring the truck.

  Just as safety was in their sights, Asha’s next shot buried square into the roof of the cabin. It ploughed straight in there; we could hear the sound of ripping metal panelling from where we were. Even in the limited light remaining we could see the roof dented in. The spear itself had totally disappeared. Well, it seemed that way.

  I jumped up, pumped my first and said “boom!” or “whoo-hooo!” or something.

  Then I realised I was totally exposed, ducked back for cover, then worked my way back to Asha for a hi-five.

  The truck came to a stop once more. There was either a very dead driver in there or a ghost white one coming to terms with a dire smell. That, however, was not our problem. We reloaded and fired again. Another strike, this one hitting the behind the driver’s cabin.

  Asha didn’t seem to need me on spear loading, so I trained my eyes permanently on the ash sweeper. I didn’t want to miss a thing.

  At that point I noticed the enemy gunfire had stopped. I told Asha as much and just as I started to think we may have neutralised the truck, or the driver, it clicked into gear once more. Then another bullet smacked into the wall, this time on the building facade right in front of me.

  Asha’s next shot sailed over the top of the truck altogether. She tweaked her configuration again.

  Shane yelled out from inside, “Day shift’s here, we’re going to fire up the trebuchets.”

  I yelled my OK then watched Asha’s next shot fire into the grey. It fell just short of the ash sweeper. Well, what I thought was the ash sweeper. It was hard to tell. The ash cloud had claimed the only visible sign of Norwood’s attack.

  I told Asha to fire the next shot in exactly the same direction as the last. Before she’d even loaded the spear into the weapon, all sight of the truck was lost.

  It was worth firing a few more shots off though, as the sweeper was heading straight for where Asha’s last shot landed. She fired. The seconds went by, but we didn’t hear anything – no crunching impact – no impact at all.

  She fired again as soon as she was ready... nothing.

  Then again... nothing.

  That was it. Our work on the ballista was done for now. We could still hear the engine plugging away, but all we could see was ash – an infinity of ash – no ground, no sky and no border between them. Any more time spent up there would’ve been like playing the world’s most difficult game of Battleship.

  We headed downstairs to join the others. Alyce, Ye-Jun, Kelly, Laura, Mark, Jan and Nate had arrived from base to bolster our numbers out east to 17.

  It was the perfect moment to plan what we did next. It was the last chance for us to communicate together face-to-face and, when we were done, Laura, Mark, Jan and Nate could spread the message out to the others on the front. Most importantly of all, though, it was our last chance to plan something to counter the situation we were in.

  We had an enemy who had currently disarmed our defences and was racing to our wall cloaked in ash. We had to do something to counter that move, to make them more visible.

  Our slapped-together plan involved sending Eliza and Nate north to see how far the Norwood-engineered ash cloud reached and to make sure we weren’t being flanked through the Botanic Gardens. Jan was heading to Pirie St to update Steph and D
C, then she was moving on to do the same with John and Jenny out at Wakefield St.

  The core of our response, though, involved heading over the wall into no-man’s land and lighting as many flares as possible. We’d scatter them as far and wide as we could. That was my idea and Ye-jun and Kelly both put their hands up to join me.

  Asha would head back to the ballista and be ready to fire the second the ash sweeper became visible again. Alyce would help her. Trent and Travis would try to cover us in no-man’s land as best as they could by rifle, which left Shane to coordinate everything from the Botanic Hotel lookout.

  The whole plan was hatched in less than two minutes. Another minute later I was climbing over the wall into no-man’s land. It all happened that fast. Maybe my mind plays tricks on me looking back at it all, but everything seemed to either happen in fast forward, a slow second or not at all.

  I’m not sure if I’m exactly explaining that right. For an example, this elaborate plan we’d plotted had come together in mere minutes – tops. That’s fast forward. It was the opposite when I got to the ridge of the wall. I remember having a handful of seconds to take in the scene before Ye-jun and Kelly crawled up next to me. In that time, I looked over the scene ahead. The grey wasteland of no-man’s land seemed to blend in with the wall of ash flowing in from the east – it was just an infinity of grey. The wall seemed to be getting closer far faster than it really was. Whatever the case, we were about to get swallowed. In that moment I remember admiring Norwood; it was a very clever move. I also remember promising myself if a moment came to make a difference that I would, whatever the personal cost. But most of all, I remember feeling a loneliness – singular and powerful.

  All that happened in the seconds before Kelly, then Ye-jun, joined me – a slow second.

  Later, I was told I had a play ready to go when the others joined me on the ridge. I directed the shots on everything – what direction we’d take, how far apart we’d walk, when we’d split up, how far into the ash to go before we started lighting and throwing flares, how was should scatter the pattern of flare distribution and how we should retreat to the wall once we were done.

  I remember none of this conversation.

  Anyway, after it allegedly happened, we hopped the ridge and headed into no-man’s land.

  *

  Down south, the first of the pea-soup ash was smothering the Hutt St lookout. Jonesy was on comms until the radio signal died within seconds of it hitting. That didn’t just cut Hutt St off from the oval and what was happening out east, it cut them off from the other two lookouts south as well.

  The Pulteney St and King William St lookouts were not far away from a similar fate.

  Fortunately, the last comm before the system broke down out south, was Shane telling Jonesy what we were doing with the flares. They set about running a similar mission before silence struck.

  *

  Out east the wall of ash claimed us in no-man’s land as we headed into the unknown. Seconds later it started swallowing the lookouts in quick succession, except Wakefield St, which was further south than the ash attack out east – and not south enough to be affected by the other cloud out there. It was in its own no-man’s land.

  In fact, Jan had reported back from there, saying while conditions had deteriorated, the visibility was still well over 200m. They could see the main cloud of ash pass to their north.

  It was only a small detail, but it said a lot about the enemy and where they planned to attack. Any information was better than none at this stage.

  *

  At least out east the comms held strong. While the signal became very staticy, our proximity to the oval meant you could still hear what was being said. It meant everyone heard every transmission from anywhere else east, as well as those from the oval.

  Whatever the state of our comms, they were bound to be better than Norwood’s. There’s no way they could have a system that could match ours, and anything less than that would be falling apart under these conditions.

  *

  At the oval, Lana sent Joyce south. She was going to act as a communication go-between, running messages from what was happening down there to the rest of us on the grid. Or at the very least fast walking She would have to make face-to-face contact with those down south, pass on any messages, then head back to the nearest fallback location that could send a signal back to the oval, relay the message and go again.

  They were at a massive disadvantage down there – perhaps on par with the enemy, but some communication is far better than none at all.

  *

  Eliza and Nate made their way north to see if the enemy was trying to flank us through the Botanic Gardens.

  *

  Out in no-man’s land, I headed in the direction I believed the ash sweeper was located. Ye-jun and Kelly had moved out to my flanks on either side. Well, that was the plan, but at that point there was no way of knowing where they were.

  The ash cloud had entombed everything. It was totally disorienting to walk through – there was nothing you could use as a frame of reference. You couldn’t even try to understand where you were. With nothing to go by you felt more disoriented trying than not!

  I just marched forward, convinced I was heading in the right direction.

  We had given ourselves a count of 500. That was the amount of paces we’d walk east before igniting and throwing our first flare. As I was the only one with a radio, comms were impossible once we’d split. So all we had was the equation to stay in synch – a pace a second and a count of 500.

  This was designed to get us into the middle of no man’s land – about 250m when traversing the sort of settled and slightly set undisturbed ash we knew we’d most likely encounter. That way we could light up the space that would bring the trebuchets into play.

  It was always going to be impossible to stay coordinated on the count, but if we stayed at least somewhat in rhythm, it would give us the best chance of staying safe. We’d worked together enough times in the past that we had developed a universally acceptable stride length for traversing ash. That, coupled with having used seconds counting before, gave us as good a chance as anyone of getting close – at least that’s what we figured.

  And we had to be close, our lives pretty much depended on it. We knew the moment one of us lit a flare, the enemy would be on to us and the gunfire would come.

  I can’t even describe the surreal nature of being out there. Once we’d split up, and seconds later lost each other in the ash, it was a different world. It was the calm before the storm – a claustrophobic fog of foreboding. It’s amazing where your mind goes. One moment I was at peace with the calm, the

  next the thought of everything overwhelmed me, and soon after I was thinking, this must be what it’s like to be stuck in a snow cone!

  Yeah, that actually happened. That was actually part of my thought process as I stepped my way into one of the most life-threateningly-crazy things I’d ever done.

  Ash being ash, it soon played more than a cameo in the story. We were walking blind across probably yet-to-be-touched ground. I hit a patch of really solid ash to begin with. The sort that you know is a mix of sludge way down underneath and this powdery slow-setting ash-concrete on top. It meant my paces were well over the 50cm average we’d banked on in our plan, but I didn’t mind. I knew I was going to either hit a surprise change of texture that’d slow me down, or I’d get further out into no-man’s land than the others. I was OK with taking the biggest risk – it was my plan after all, and if anyone was going to make ground the quickest, it was me.

  Anyway, pace 441 was the one that undid me. I’d been somewhat lulled into a false sense of security after my timid steps didn’t lead to a bad result 440 times. Slowly I got more confident in the ground. I remember taking a look around to see if I could see signs of the others, or if anyone had let off their first flare. Anyway, I turned to face forward again and hit a patch of the softest, mushiest ash you could imagine. My leg got swallowed by the stuff and
I ended up falling forward and smashing my head into a dead tree trunk.

  Meanwhile, my other leg stayed city side of the problem area. The whole situation left my body contorted in ways that it was not prepared for, or capable of. My groin muscle screamed at me. I ferreted around for the bag I had with the flares in to make sure it was safe. It was. I could then swear at the situation and the pain, without having to add a mission futile tone to it all.

  It was then I realised how suction-like the ash was. I tried to pull out of the situation in one move, but my leg didn’t budge.

  Behind me the first flare went off.

  *

  Back at the Botanic Hotel they saw a flare. It was the first of a series that started to dot their way around no-man’s land. Seconds later, the sound of enemy gunfire filled the air. But Shane and the crew knew it wasn’t directed at them.

  They scanned the parklands for the ash sweeper, but it didn’t come into view.

  Rifles were trained on the farthest placed flares, in case Norwood sent people in to snuff them out. Asha was on the ballista and the rest were ready to work on the trebuchets.

  But any attacking move was useless without a sighter on the ash sweeper. Without it, they just counted down the moments while the enemy gained position on us.

  *

  I saw the flares start to fan out to my left and right. All of them were city side of me, so even though I had completed less steps in the darkness, I’d made it further out.

  My leg had sunken well into the ash, but it wasn’t enough to get me panicking, even when the sound of gunfire echoed out. I just couldn’t afford to.

  In between shots, I started to hear another noise that I couldn’t when I was steeping through no-man’s land. It was the ash sweeper. I was close.

  I watched the pattern of flares as they fired to life further and further from my location. Each lighting up a little more of the neutral territory. It just added to the surreal feeling in my bubble between the two forces. It was like some map in a video game, slowly being revealed to all the players. The good news – looking back at the city from my vantage point there was no chance of making out the buildings. The light of the flares turned anything beyond their range to an infinity of black. A part of the uncharted space in the game’s universe.