Desolation Boulevard

by Mark Gordon

  Chapter 33

  Extract From Sally’s Journal:

  “Where do I start? Dylan’s “zombie” hunting expedition didn’t go quite as smoothly as I would have liked. It was terrifying enough while the damn things were sleeping, but when one of them woke up and chased Dylan I thought I was going to die, either from fright or zombie attack (now I’m calling them zombies, which they’re not - they haven’t come back from the dead, which I actually think makes them worse). Anyway, he managed to fight it off, but in the process got bitten on the leg. Somehow we were able to scramble into the back of a van where I bandaged him up and stopped the bleeding, (but I’m worried now that the wound might get infected despite starting a course of antibiotics since we got back). We were trapped in that truck for over an hour with I don’t know how many zombies trying to get in, but they didn’t, thank god! After a while the thumps on the truck stopped and we risked opening the door to see if they had gone. Dylan was right; they must have gone back to their nests to sleep because the car park was empty. (He thinks that they really need that downtime to rejuvenate, even though it seems like they can come out of it for a while if they are in danger). Even with Dylan limping along on his injured leg, we got out of that basement pretty damn fast and headed out into the sunshine. The warmth on my face felt amazing. (By the way, if these creatures could handle the daylight, we would be royally screwed. Owning the daytime is our only salvation).

  As we walked home holding hands Dylan didn’t talk much. I guess because he was in a lot of pain. I had this emotional knot in my stomach and wanted to talk about what happened in the van between us this morning, but I didn’t want to scare him off either because I know what babies men can be when it comes to commitment (hi dad!). Let’s just say what happened was one of the most moving moments of my life, and I’ll never forget it. Despite my excitement, I’m going to play it cool and see what happens. We have time, after all.

  I saw my first marauders on the way back to St Jude’s today. We were a few blocks from home when we heard people talking loudly nearby. When the voices got closer, Dylan dragged me into the nearest shop and we hid behind the counter. The marauders were in daylight and we were in the shadows, so it was safe to peek over the top to check them out. A group of four men (although they were more like animals to me) of various sizes and ages were wandering down the middle of the road, looking like characters out of some “Road Warrior” movie. They were bristling with weapons and off their faces on god knows what! Booze, pills, crack? Maybe all three. Let’s face it, if that’s your thing, you just have to walk into a chemist and help yourself; there’s plenty to go around and no law to stop you. They were laughing manically about nothing in particular and obviously looking for trouble. As they went past the window I could see that the last one was dragging a long piece of orange nylon rope behind him and I expected to see a savage dog come into view, but I was wrong. As the four moved out of our line of sight I saw that the rope was attached to a large spiky dog collar, which was secured around the neck of a naked girl. I thought I had become unshockable, but that rocked me badly. I looked at Dylan, desperate for him to do something, but he just looked at me sadly and shook his head. Any attempt to save her would have probably ended in one or both us being killed. He told me later if his leg hadn’t been injured he might have been able to do something. Who knows? Maybe next time we’ll be in a better position to help. There is a crushing guilt, though.

  When we got back to the church, Jo quickly arranged medical treatment for Dylan’s leg from Kathy, who used to be a nurse. She put a few stitches in and congratulated me on my improvised bandage. She said he should be fine if he kept taking the antibiotics and changed the dressing each day. After we’d cleaned up and had something to eat I went to talk to Mr Ash about the marauders and asked him how dangerous they were for us. He said the groups so far were only small and that we had them outnumbered, but who knows how long that will last.? At the moment anyone who tries to get into St Jude’s has to give up their weapons and submit to our rules. The guards are very cautious and so far that’s been enough to deter the bad element. Mr Ash said if there was any doubt, they would shoot first and ask questions later - something he never got to do as a high school teacher (ha ha). I told him about the girl tied to the rope and he said he would send a group out with automatic weapons to see if there was something they could do for her, but he didn’t seem confident. “These are bad times,” he said.

  Later in the afternoon, while everyone was getting the dinner ready, the lady I had seen in conflict with Jo yesterday (her name is Bonnie) came over to Jo again and started arguing and pleading with her about something. I was too far away to hear everything clearly, but it was obvious that she wanted to leave St Jude’s and go home. The longer the argument went on the more agitated she became, and more people came over to try to convince her to stay. When I saw Dylan limp over to listen to the commotion I went and stood with him and listened too. It seems that Bonnie had come to the city for a couple of days for some job interviews and been trapped here because of the event. The reason she was so frantic to get home was because she had left her daughter behind with a neighbour and was now desperate to get back to her country town (I think she said Millford?) to see if the child had survived. She was begging to be let go but everybody said it would be suicide to leave the city to travel four hundred kilometres out into the countryside with all the zombies and marauders about. The other big reason for not going, though, was the cruel fact that her daughter was almost certainly either already dead or a zombie herself. Nobody knew of any circumstances where more than one person from a family group had survived. As far as we could tell, everybody on earth had become orphans overnight.

  When Bonnie realised that she wasn’t going to be allowed to leave, she screamed hysterically into her hands and went to the back of the church and threw herself on her bed and continued to sob. The small crowd that had been involved in the argument gradually went back to their dinner preparation and I went back to peeling my potatoes. So I was surprised, when a few minutes later, I looked over and saw Dylan sitting on the bed next to Bonnie chatting quietly with her. At that moment I couldn’t help but think how caring he was, and thought that it wouldn’t hurt to offer my support as well, so I went over to be with them. The conversation was similar to the one I’d just heard, but less argumentative. (I discovered that Dylan had listening skills!) Bonnie was saying that nobody had a right to try to stop her from getting back to her daughter, no matter how dangerous it was or how unprepared she was to handle it by herself. She said that it was inhuman to stop a mother trying to get back to her only child and if she weren’t allowed to leave in the morning, she would just walk past the guards, challenging them to shoot her. Dylan explained to her very gently that she had no chance to reach her daughter on her own, and that it would be almost impossible even with a team. Then Bonnie looked at Dylan with desperation and said, “There must be a way! It’s my little girl! My baby! I need to know what’s happened to her, otherwise I may as well be dead too!”

  Dylan looked at her, and then at me.

  “We’ll take you,” he said.

  And for reasons I don’t really understand I found myself standing there with tears in my eyes nodding enthusiastically in agreement.