It also made me realise the guards we very limited in where they could go. They couldn’t follow the wall the entire way around, they could only move along where the buses were.
Beyond the other guard station, I could see the carpark. There were a few cars entombed in the ash, but not as many as I thought there’d be. Closer to the shopping centre itself the ground looked pretty ash-free. Someone had marked out some lines in it, I couldn’t be 100% sure but it looked like a soccer pitch. There were also plenty of walking tracks in the ash in all directions from the main entrance.
Near the entrance to the shops there was another group of people – I could make out six. They didn’t really seem to be doing much, but it didn’t matter, it was good to see someone other than the guards outside. They were stationed around a large marquee… it really had the vibe of a processing station or security checkpoint or something. Apart from that, it was all quiet.
Closer to the guards on buses stood a front end loader, clearly what they’d used to not only make their wall, but to clear space outside.
So, I figured I was looking at the two-stage security perimeter they’d set-up to keep out the watched, but the numerous tracks in the ash and the soccer pitch made me pretty sure at some point people would be outside for occupations other than keeping watch.
I decided to give it the rest of the day to keep watch on the comings and goings. I was also at the ready for mission Ferrero Rocket, should the main TTP population come outside.
I laid on my stomach, looking through my binoculars at the TTP goings on for hours. It was weird actually, just spying on everything, observing them. There was definitely a military feel to how they operated, but the people themselves seemed very much like average Joes. They didn’t even really seem like they were on alert much at all either. The guards on the wall chatted quite a bit. I could even make out bits and pieces of what they were saying too, when the breeze pointed in the right direction.
Around mid-morning they had a change of shift, both on the wall and at the checkpoint. That was the only exciting thing to happen before I ate my lunch. To my left I could see the odd watched shuttle between the hospital and the other guards on the wall by the McDonald’s. They were always too far away for me to be concerned by the presence. But I did spend a bit of time trying to work out what they were doing and why.
This place had obviously developed its own way of existence – the haves and the have-nots, everyone playing their role. I was on the outside, but right in the middle, watching it all unfold like the inner workings of some post-apocalyptic clock.
About an hour after I’d eaten there was activity it the yard again, this time a bunch of people flooded out. It was hard to count exact numbers, but I’m pretty sure it was close to 100. I remember this overwhelming flood of anticipation hitting me as I focused in again through the binoculars. I studied each of them, but I couldn’t see anyone who resembled any of the Jamesons. Admittedly there were plenty of covered faces to stop people breathing in the ash, but I was sure I would’ve recognised them by their height, or the way they moved… or any number of ways you can spot someone you know well. But after maybe fifteen minutes of staring I was still drawing a blank.
Besides, I still had a mission to complete, and with the guards on the wall distracted by the goings on in the compound, I knew it was time to focus. I dropped over the edge of the building with my bag, the ash cushioning my fall and any possible noise. I put my ash boots back on then positioned myself behind a nearby tree to spy on the guards and time my fast shuffle in open space. That task wasn’t too hard. The guards had pretty much given up on the whole guarding thing at that point and their backs were facing my way as they found more interest in the goings on in the compound.
I shuffled across the road as quickly and quietly as I could, totally exposed while I did so. When I hit the base of the wall on the other side, I slumped down and caught my breath. My heart was going crazy more through fear than physical exertion.
I was probably about 50m down from where the guards were situated. I knew as soon as I started firing my Ferrero Rockets they’d narrow down where I was coming from, but as for getting to me, that was a different problem. My biggest issue was getting away after the fact as I still had that exposed space to get through. I fished around in my backpack for my slingshot and ammo, while I tried to plan the best path out to minimise my exposure.
I figured, when I had to do a runner after I unloaded the ammo, my best bet was to stick close to the wall along Smart St until I was past the hospital and across Reservoir Rd. From there I could travel a block or two further down and cross safely before doubling back to Reservoir Rd and on my way. This route would all but take the nearby guards out of the equation. It would leave me more exposed to the other guards near the McDonald’s, but I’d be further away from them and who knows if they’d be aware of what’s going on in the chaos.
Anyway, that was the plan as I lined up my Ferrero Rockets ready for quick reloading. I put one in the slingshot, took a few deep breaths for luck and fired it off. It was followed up with a second and a third Rocket in quick time and it was as I was about to load the fourth that screaming and yelling started emanating from behind the wall. I started to panic and knocked the fourth missile and a few of its friends across the ash. My whole firing system was down. I grabbed the closest rocket, eventually, loaded up through shaking hands, also eventually, then fired again. I could hear them starting to coordinate themselves on the other side – the guards on the wall, those near the marquee, everyone else.
I fired more shots over the top. I remember blocking out the panic and getting into a rhythm, pick up Rocket, place in slingshot, stretch, aim fire – repeat.
I was about halfway through my ammo when I heard someone scream out, “I see him!”
I turned to see one of the guards had jumped from the buses to the ash wall itself and was leaning his head over the edge, staring at me. We exchanged glances. It was an awkward moment in time that seemed to last forever. Neither of us moved or spoke. Then I started hearing more activity from behind the wall and started thinking others were racing to join the guard on the wall to see for themselves... or, worse still, come after me.
I remember being crouched over the rest of the ammo at the time. Without taking my eyes off the guard watching me, I reached down, collected as many Rockets as I could and threw them over the fence. Then I gave him the peace symbol, turned and ran.
“Freeze!” yelled the guard, but it was too late – I was dust (actually that’s probably more like ash, and probably not that quick either since I had the ash boots on). I headed along my pre-planned escape route, parallel with the fence along Smart St, heading beyond the roundabout. I heard a loud bang and, while I couldn’t see any direct evidence, I knew the guard had fired a gun of some sort. But I wasn’t going to look around to confirm.
I could hear the voices and chaos behind me grow louder and more pack-like, I was pretty sure there’d be someone following me outside the wall soon enough.
I hit the exposed space between the end of the wall and the far side of the roundabout – where the other guard position came into view. I just put my head down and shuffled as quickly as I could – trying my best not to look panicked or draw unnecessary attention to myself. That really wasn’t an option with all the yelling from behind me.
When I first dared look up to the second guard position, they were staring back at me. It was a weird sensation. I think they were studying me in that ‘who is he and what the hell’s he doing?’ kind of way – so were the watched beneath them. I was halfway across the roundabout when I heard the vocal excitement behind me lift again. I turned to see two people chasing me from outside the compound, with a handful more in their wake.
It wasn’t long after that the guards in the second position clued in to what was happening. I heard a shot, then another and another. I was a ball of adrenalin. I put my head down and shuffled across the ash as fast as I could. There was some sort
of office building ahead – maybe 10m. In the background of my mind I could hear more shots fired and yelling but my core senses were focused on that building.
I felt a bullet zip past me, then another broke one of the few remaining windows in the office building ahead. Seconds later I was in safety… from the guards at least. I still had to lose the mob chasing me.
I turned back to them as I continued up Smart Rd. There were probably ten people in chase but at least I’d increased the gap I had on them – those ash boots coming in handy again. I knew I couldn’t slow down – not for a second. I needed distance, then the cover of the side streets. My heart raced and I could feel my lungs burn. My body was no longer trained for physical activity and I was sucking in so much of the ash kicked up from my dash.
I crossed the road once I was a safe distance away from the office building. I skipped past the first side street after the roundabout, hoping to duck down the second with an even bigger lead over the pack. But I wasn’t too much further up the road when I realised there wasn’t a second side street – the next intersection was with North East Rd, which cuts Smart Rd at a 45-degree angle and would’ve taken me well away from Phoenix.
My lungs were screaming at me to stop running but I had to press on even harder. I passed a JB Hifi store and could see a lane on the side that stretched to the rear of the property – there were dead trees beyond that, which gave me enough encouragement that opened up to something other than a dead end. And I did not want a dead end. Despite my lead, the pack could just follow my trail in the ash – I wouldn’t get too many shots at backtracking… if any.
Thankfully the trees seemed to be part of some linear park – there was probably a creek under the ash somewhere. I jumped a couple of fences and before I knew it was in the backyard of an abandoned house.
I crossed a street and jumped through two more properties before I started to slow down. When I did I could hear the sounds of the chasing pack – they were distant – enough to give me confidence that I could maintain the slower speed while I caught my breath.
A minute or so later, I hit the O-Bahn track, got my bearings and headed back to Phoenix. Soon after, the sound of the posse faded into nothing. I found my way back to my initial tracks, skipped through the backyard and over the fence, where I found the hovercraft waiting patiently for me. Words cannot express how happy I was to see Phoenix again. I revved her into life and headed home, letting out a massive ‘whoo-hooo!’ as I did.
Wow… just wow.
*
I just sat down and talked Fi through all the events of today. I still can’t believe how quickly everything escalated. Clearly they’ve got a short fuse with the watched down there in TTP land. I was walking into an environment and a history I knew nothing about, and I wasn’t just observing, I was making a direct impact on dynamics I didn’t understand. That’s the risk you take when you enter someone else’s world, I guess. It was a pretty crazy thing to do, really. But with the reward of being potentially reunited with old friends, well, it was no risk at all.
Now I just wait, I guess. I wait and wonder whether the Jamesons are alive, whether they’re at TTP and, if they are, whether the message even got through to them or not.
*
I’ve been coughing all afternoon. Not just coughing, hacking up bits of black. So gross, even blowing my nose produced a colour on the tissue that can’t be healthy. Seriously, this world and exercise don’t mix. I must’ve breathed all that air into the deepest parts of my lungs.
It’s even affecting my sense of taste. Tonight’s canned dinner tasted blander than usual. No, worse than that, it left a nasty metallic aftertaste in my mouth. And it wasn’t just the food; the water I drank gave the same sensation. I really hope that’s temporary. Tasting different flavours is one of the few normals I still have from pre-rock. I’m not sure how I’ll feel if that gets taken away from me.
*
October 9, 2014
I slept like I was in a competitive league last night. I’m not sure exactly what time I drifted off but it couldn’t have been much past 8.30pm, and I didn’t get up until just before 11am today! Go me.
It was only then I realised that today – if I have the dates correct – would’ve been Dad’s birthday. That’s brought up a lot of emotion, to be honest. I know I’m still in grieving over Fi, which has been driving my sanity balance over the last few months, but days like today are a pretty stark reminder there are so many other significant events I haven’t dealt with.
I guess it was the way everything changed at once. There was just no chance to focus on anything other than what was required to survive the day/week/month etc. It was really put one foot in front of the other and get through from a survival standpoint. Emotion – well that was just unnecessary baggage at the time, just a distraction from survival. Then Fi came along and I realised I could open that door again, but even when I did, I only let her in. All the other stuff was still too much to allow myself to comprehend.
When she was taken from me I just tried to shut that door on the whole emotional thing once more. But I’ve been working my way through that – trying to deal with it – with missing her. The rest, all the other unresolved losses, they’re still shut behind the door. And, damn, it must be made of some quality wood, because there’s a lot back there. It must be bowing outwards and creaking in a foreboding way.
Today though, the door just opened of its own accord. October 9 – that’s all it took. Maybe my starting to actually deal with Fi’s loss has made me strong (or is it weak?) enough to take on another. I cried when I saw the date and all these memories of happier times came flooding back. Birthday time was always a bonding time for Dad and I – his birthday being exactly a week before mine. Thirty years and seven days apart – it was like a thing.
I was drawn to the photo albums Mum used to keep – she took that stuff seriously, with captions and everything. Nostalgia. Each page filled with so many confronting images of contentment… of happiness. Well, that’s not entirely true. Part of me could remember being in those moments and the arguments and family dynamics that lurked behind the scenes and expressions. Jase was a good older brother, especially after he got a little older – but he was an ass for a few years there. And Mum and Dad were always being super annoyingly motivated about me chasing a career and being driven to achieve – like constantly – it drove me crazy.
But none of that mattered in the photographs; they were just moments in time. Slices of perfection from that holiday to the river, or in the members’ area at the football, or Nanna’s birthday dinner at the pub, or skiing at Falls Creek, or that time we bagged out on King George Whiting in Uncle Ian’s boat.
I flicked through three albums before it all became too much. I just realised that all of these collective moments – where we were chasing the family ideal, perhaps falling short, but somehow working together enough to get most of the way there – well, they were the perfection. It was a beautiful imperfect perfection and I had been living it but just too young, or headstrong, or self-involved, or empowered, or caught up in my pre-rock first-world problems, to realise it.
Looking through the photos today… that was the first time I really saw it for what it was. That was a bittersweet realisation. I wanted to just reach into the picture and whisper to my parents that I understand, that I get what it was all about now.
When I finished the river of tears I laughed for a bit. Dad’s stupid Hawaiian shirts – he’d unveil a different one each birthday. I don’t know where the hell he dug them up from, but they were designed to repulse – seriously, they could’ve been used as camouflage when looking at lolly shop décor through a kaleidoscope. My smile from when I had braces – I was a very ordinary looking 15 year old – like, 75 per cent awkward and 25 per cent unsure. Mum’s hair (they could’ve made studies into it) she had more completely different looks than Doctor Who! And Jason – always the poser – the ladies man – at least in his head. To be fair, he didn’t do too badly
back in the day and, when I was younger, I used to think he was the man, but looking back now through older eyes – he was a bit of a douche!
Eventually, I put the albums away over a few more tears. I shut the door on the emotion again, at least for now. But I was glad I jumped into that world again for a few hours at least, just to give it some air and let it breathe. I knew I wouldn’t wear this like I did the Fi loss; there’s something about the timing of everything and the immediacy of it all that was different. But it was good to face some stuff front on and to take another step. And it did feel like a step – one back to normal. Each time I front up, each time I face things, I just feel it puts me in a spot closer to the light.
The trick is reminding myself of this when things are at their darkest. *Makes mental note.
*
October 10, 2014
I think I’m going to plan my next city run, otherwise I just find myself watching time pass and secretly waiting for the Jamesons to magically rock up at the door. I can’t express how much I’d love for this to happen, especially after everything I went through at the TTP, but I’ve really got to keep reminding myself that the odds are really, really low. As for sitting around waiting for them, well, it’s like Nanna used to say – a watched pot never boils.
Make plans – stay busy – things happen.
Having said that, I do have to consider what to do when I leave the house, because I have given them directions here and it would be a perfect Murphy’s Law moment that they rocked up in the 4-5 hour window when I wasn’t here. I just need to leave them a message to say hang around, hide it in a spot no one else would find it, and give them enough breadcrumbs to do so themselves. A job for this afternoon, I guess.
I’m also going to sort out a couple of small bug-out bags to hide near the property if I have to split at a moment’s notice. At this stage my likeliest destination is the city, so somewhere close but in that general direction seems the most logical.
Diary of a Survivor (Book 2): Apocalypse Page 8
