by Mark Gordon
Chapter 84
Extract From Sally’s Journal:
“We stood on the top of the hill and gazed down in silence at the nightmare that was 'Two Hills'. Gunshots boomed out across the night, and flashes of orange in the distance punctuated the dark like grotesque fireworks. Occasionally we could hear a spine-chilling scream above the pandemonium, but they became less frequent as the battle continued.
When the feeder burst into the kitchen, I thought we’d lost our precious Gabby. The revulsion and terror I felt when that mutated freak took her was almost too much for me to handle. The snarl that I glimpsed as it snatched Gabby away was more devil than animal, and I truly wonder if we will ever be able to defeat these things! If it weren’t for Matt’s quick thinking, I think Gabby would have been spirited away into the night, and the feeders would have won right then. We certainly would never have seen her again.
But we did get her back, and knew that we needed to leave the farm as soon as we could. Gabby was just regaining consciousness, so while Bonnie tried to wake her, Matt and I frantically raced around the house as quickly as we could, grabbing warm jackets, and the sports bag that Bonnie had loaded with weapons. Then, when Gabby was fully conscious, we left the house for the last time.
It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the top paddock - Bonnie was riding the all-terrain vehicle with Gabby latched on from behind with Elvis in the tray. Matt and I rode his father’s motorbike that he loved so much. It was a bumpy and slow trip, but eventually we reached the top of the hill safely. No feeders followed us, so we can only assume that the defensive line (which included our Dylan and Montana) was holding its' own down there. Regardless of that, however, we knew we couldn’t stay where we were.
Matt’s beloved Angus cattle were huddled together in a paddock nearby, and obviously distressed, so he opened their gate, realising that he would probably never be returning to the farm. “Might as well give them a chance,” he said, sadly, as he watched them gallop off into the night in a panic.
Then we climbed back onto our bikes and made our way slowly down the other side of the hill. As we got closer to the bottom of the valley, and further away from the farm, the sounds of the gunshots became fainter and fainter until they were just a popping sound in the distance. I couldn’t stop thinking about Dylan and Montana, still engaged in combat, hoping to make a difference. If I’m honest, I don’t expect to see them again.
The track we had been following was narrow and dangerous - full of potholes, exposed rocks and overhanging branches. It was extremely slow going, so when we reached a small ravine that we couldn’t get the bikes across, it wasn’t a very difficult decision to ditch them and continue on foot. So we climbed from our bikes, and left them following Matt through the dense bush, hoping that he knew where he was going.
I was really terrified at this point, but I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to upset Gabby. I was freezing, and all I could see was Matt’s head in front of me as we trudged on, and I was certain that feeders would pounce from the forest around us at any moment, and that would be the end of us all. At one point, we stumbled across a group of kangaroos feeding in the pale moonlight, and I screamed and fired my gun into the darkness, which pissed Matt off quite a bit, but I guess the feeders were busy elsewhere, and we were left alone to continue our journey without incident.
Then, something happened that forced us to change our plan. It started raining - really teeming down. Now we had a problem! It was one thing to be cold and dry, but being cold and wet was potentially lethal, especially for little Gabby, so Matt urged us to move faster. He felt that there might be a farmhouse not too far away, once we got out of the valley, so we persevered, shivering and sloshing through the mud as we pushed on blindly. Eventually, though, the effort became too much for Gabby, and Matt needed to carry her, as Bonnie and I struggled with the bag of guns.
My head was in a very dark place by now, and I was shivering so much, that even walking was becoming difficult. We had been trekking through the bush for so long that I had lost faith in Matt to get us out of this mess. My initial relief at surviving the feeders back at the farm and rescuing Gabby had worn off, and I honestly believed that we would die from exposure in that forest before we saw daylight. Despite that, though, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other (like a zombie) and when Matt yelled, “house!” I almost didn’t hear him above the rain, I was such a wreck.
“House!” he screamed again, and this time I did hear him! I dropped the bag of guns to the mud, and pushed passed him to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, and sure enough, there it was - a little abandoned cottage, nestled in a clearing, overgrown with weeds and almost ready for the wrecking crew. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen!
Ten minutes later, we were inside, crowded around a roaring fireplace, eating baked beans straight from the can, wrapped up in dusty blankets that we’d pulled from the beds. Nobody spoke. We were too exhausted and probably in shock. We were satisfied just being dry and alive. For the next few hours we slept, deep and dreamless, huddled together on the floor like refugees, which I suppose we are now.
The next morning the rain had gone and the sun rose spectacularly above the hills in a flawless cobalt sky. Nobody had mentioned Montana or Dylan specifically; because we knew that to do so would mean having to face the fact they were, in all likelihood, dead. By avoiding that conversation, it meant that we could fool ourselves, for a little while longer anyway, into thinking that they were still alive. For a few minutes, we discussed the idea of going back to the farm to check for survivors, but we decided that it would be a pointless exercise. If the feeders had won the battle (which they surely must have), then the farm would now be a lair, and returning would only put Gabby in peril once more. Of course, if anybody had managed to survive the onslaught, then they would make their way to Diamond Creek as planned, and we would be reunited, no matter how unlikely that seemed.
-
It’s almost eight o’clock now and we’ve just finished a breakfast of tinned fruit and hot tea. Matt found an old Ford in the shed with almost a full tank of fuel. He managed to get it started, and it seems like a pretty reliable car for our trip. We’ve loaded up the boot with all of the non-perishable food from the kitchen, our weapons, and the blankets that we slept in last night. Matt and Bonnie are sitting in the front seats (Bonnie has her gun ready, just in case), while Gabby and I have made ourselves a little nest in the back seat with Elvis, some bottles of water, and a pile of books that we found in the house.
If all goes well, we should be in Diamond Creek before night falls.
The End
About the Author
Mark Gordon lives and writes in Newcastle, Australia and became a fan of apocalyptic horror after watching the Omega Man on television as an eleven year old. He has worked as a nightclub operator, disc jockey, photographer, band manager, construction worker, and high school teacher. He is currently working on the sequel to “Desolation Boulevard”, titled “Diamond Creek Dogs”, to be published in 2013.
www.desolationboulevard.net
Cover Design by Mark Holdsworth
