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Desolation Boulevard

Page 12

by Mark Gordon


  Chapter 12

  The Search

  Matt spent the morning searching the homes of Millfield, hoping to find them lying unconscious under a bed like the Thompsons. He didn’t find his parents, but he did find lots of other “hiders”. He found them under beds, in wardrobes, in garages and even one in the trunk of a partially restored ‘66 Mustang. It seemed every person in Millfield was in a state of suspended animation, and in a bizarre kind of way, looked perfectly comfortable. Earlier in the day, in Mr and Mrs Cleary’s house, Matt decided to poke one of the bodies to see what would happen. He found a golf club in the garage, and gently prodded Mr Cleary in his ample beer belly, but there was no reaction.

  Around midday he stopped searching and forced himself to eat. Looking for his parents was not physically demanding, but he could tell that it was taking an emotional toll. He felt lethargic and was beginning to get a headache. After his lunch, he continued the grim quest in more unlikely places such as restaurants and shops, but he had no luck there either. Wherever his parents were hiding, they certainly did not want to be found. As the sun began to set, Matt started for home. He had not found one person who was conscious, yet logic compelled him to believe there must be others like him, who had not been affected by this event. Tomorrow he would take his search for survivors further afield. The nearest town was only thirty minutes away and almost twice as big as Millfield. Surely somebody there would be conscious?

  Matt considered the hiders of Millfield and worried about the long-term affects of their suspended state. If they continued to hibernate indefinitely, they would die from dehydration. Would nature really play such a cruel and pointless trick? A virus might cause a reaction in its victims like the one he had seen, but surely after it had run its course it would die out along with the hosts. What would be the point of that? Even viruses existed to prolong their existence as long as possible. If the victims of this inexplicable event didn’t regain consciousness soon, Matt knew that he would be dealing with a town full of corpses.

  He pulled the car into his farm’s driveway and killed the engine. He trudged into the house with his shotgun and Elvis. The sun had dropped behind the hills and the place was gloomy and depressing. He flicked on some lights and that made him feel a little better, but still he fretted for his missing parents. If he couldn’t find them he thought they would probably die. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do once he found them, but perhaps they would have some chance of survival if he could provide basic medical care until they regained consciousness. As he was pondering that idea, Elvis started to whine. Matt went to the kitchen to find him some food. There was leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator (made by his mother two days ago, he thought sadly), so he took the plastic wrap from the bowl and took it out onto the porch.

  “Here boy, eat this.” He placed the bowl down on the floor, but Elvis paid it no attention.

  “Come on boy, you should eat. You must be starving.”

  Elvis whined.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt coaxed.

  He followed the dog’s gaze towards the town. He couldn’t see anything unusual. The dog probably sniffed a rabbit foraging for food close to the house. He sat down on the bench, where his father would normally be having a well-earned beer, and looked towards town while Elvis continued to whine. All was silent.

  Until the scream.

  Matt leapt to his feet and stared in the direction of the noise. Elvis became more animated and looked hysterically at Matt, wagging his tail, as if to say, “You hear it too human?” Matt's heart was beating racing as he waited to hear it again. A scream meant that someone in Millfield was conscious! He thought it had sounded human - a woman maybe. He was cautious, though, because he had heard possums and even koalas make noises eerily similar to the human voice, especially in the midst of mating. What convinced him in the end though, was the sheer volume of the cry. Despite town being around two kilometres away, the sound had travelled across the still night air and assaulted his senses as if the person was in the next room. Someone was conscious down there. He grabbed the shotgun and ran to the ute.

 

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