Of course, what we didn’t know was who or what we would face when we got to the hospital. Did they send all their numbers to attack us? And we would be telegraphing our arrival with the sound of Phoenix. So, the plan was a pretty simple one. Hover up to the car park, as close as I can to the back entrance. Jonesy would jump off with the jerry can, fill the lower floor with as much as he can dump before he gets caught, light it and leave. Thirty seconds, a minute tops, he told me. We were fired up.
We hit Frome St and crossed the bridge without seeing a soul. That was the moment it dawned on both of us what a risk we were taking. That bridge was almost the gateway to enemy territory and I became sickeningly conscious of each decibel Phoenix echoed out. At some point soon, we knew we’d be passing an event horizon, where there was no going back. We headed south towards the hospital. I pumped the engines up, thinking I’d rather be louder and faster. We were nearly at the entrance when a couple of hubbers appeared ahead of us at the North Tce intersection, drawn to the noise. They called out to others then started walking towards us with weapons raised.
I looked at Jonesy in a way that said, “are we doing this or not?”
He nodded, lifted his revolver and fired at the hubbers heading our way.
That was the event horizon.
The shots slowed them down, but in the distance we could hear shouting and all sorts of commotion as word of our presence spread. I turned left into the car park and we lost line of sight with the hubbers.
Jonesy switched his gun aim to what was ahead in the car park and gripped the jerry can with his other hand in readiness. “Thirty seconds and out,” he repeated.
After a couple of quick turns the entry door was in front of us, unmanned. Jonesy jumped out before Phoenix had come to a complete stop and fired a couple of shots into the door’s glass as he neared. He smashed the weakened glass with the jerry can and disappeared down the dark corridors within. I manoeuvred Phoenix into a position where I could switch aim between the door and the roadway back to Frome Street, from where I knew at least two hubbers were approaching.
Apart from being scared, anxious, adrenalin filled and tense… I remember thinking to myself that the raid seemed like a far less risky idea when we were planning it 10 minutes ago. It’s weird, but I laughed.
I heard gunfire coming from within the hospital, but it was too dark to see anything.
Twenty seconds.
I looked down the laneway and the two hubbers had reached the corner. I fired at them, which sent them out of sight for cover. Back to the entrance, then back to the laneway – nothing.
Thirty seconds.
A bullet smashed through another one of the doors at the entrance, shattering glass everywhere. I didn’t know if it had come from inside or the two guys pinned around the corner. I switched aim again between the two. Again nothing.
Forty seconds.
This was getting bad. Forty seconds was one thing, forty seconds without a sign from Jonesy was something else entirely.
One of the two pinned down hubbers eased his head out from behind cover. I sent a shot his way in an instant, hoping it would make him think twice next time. Still nothing from within the hospital, except gunfire.
Fifty seconds.
I left the safety of Phoenix and headed to the doors to get a closer look. I couldn’t make anything out and knew I’d have to head in. I fired a shot into the bricks near the corner to keep those hubbers back, then stepped through the broken door.
I followed the sound of gunfire down a small passageway into a waiting room. It was clear but I could smell petrol fumes. I was about to cross the room to the doors on the other side when I heard Jonesy scream. It wasn’t a pained scream, it was an intense ‘get me out of here’ scream. I can’t explain how I picked it, I just did, and it made all the difference. Instead of running towards him, I took cover behind the corner nearest the exit and aimed my weapon to the noise.
I could smell fire.
Jonesy’s scream got louder and louder until he burst through the doors at the far end of the room and was past me in a flash, shouting, “Go, go, go!”
I could hear more movement in the distance and decided to hold my spot for a couple of seconds. Sure enough, a couple of hubbers jumped through the doors in pursuit of Jonesy. I fired rounds into them and they hit the floor. I was about to turn and leave when Kent Williams, the skinny shark eyed guy Shane had shot in the hand, followed in behind them. We looked at each other for a second, both knowing he was about to die. He stared me down.
Then I pulled the trigger.
All I got was a click.
In that time, more hubbers had joined Williams. They realised my plight and chased after me. I swore, turned and ran. I was soon yelling as loudly as Jonesy was seconds earlier.
I was down the passageway and to the doors in no time. Jonesy was waiting for me when I got there. He signalled me to jump past him and as I did he stuck his lighter to the floor and flicked the flint into action.
I saw two heads peering around the corner of the laneway when I got through the doors, I aimed my empty weapon at them and they retreated. I turned to see Jonesy rise to his feet with a smile as the flames licked down the corridor. Then Williams and his cohorts entered the other end of the corridor, saw the situation, screamed and retreated with speed.
We were on Phoenix and moving within seconds.
I told Jonesy about the location of the two hubbers and that I was out of ammo. He said, “Me too.” Then he asked me if I had any ideas. The only suggestion I could come up with was to pray, then swore for forgetting to bring my crossbow in all the panic and rush.
I amped up the fans, aimed Phoenix as close as I could to the corner, screamed and prayed. Not sure if Jonesy was praying too, but he was most definitely screaming. We both had our pistols aimed for bluffing purposes.
The hubbers had backed away from the corner by the time we were around. They must’ve been looking for cover, but had come up short. When they saw us riding high on Phoenix they ran, shooting blindly at us as they did. They reached Frome St just before we did. They went left, us right. More blind shots by them, just as effective as the no shots fired by us. A few seconds later we were clear of danger and the most inelegant fire fight the world may have ever seen. A few seconds later Jonesy and I stopped screaming.
We were laughing by the time we crossed Frome St bridge into no man’s land. I’ll never forget that feeling. The craziest thing I have ever done and I didn’t get a scratch. Maybe, just maybe, we had reclaimed our turf once and for all.
*
We feasted again that night. It wasn’t a celebration, certainly not what I would’ve imagined of a victory celebration. There was too much to process. We had lost people, we had injured, we had an enemy who could potentially return that night and we still didn’t know how big they were.
We all took turns on lookout in the towers, and if not there, we were eating, drinking and telling everyone else what we had seen, experienced and endured. Except my little moment by the wall – not my proudest moment. Ye-jun had my back on keeping that a secret.
Then Jonesy made our raid on the hubbers’ new headquarters sound like the finale of a Bourne film. Had everyone in stitches too. He does tell a good story, Jonesy. But even after reliving that moment, it still didn’t make up for my failings at the wall. Maybe part of me acted that way to try and redeem myself, I don’t know. It didn’t work, that I did know.
Man, it’s funny how this place is. It takes you to extremes – physically, emotionally, psychologically – then it throws away the rule book and lets you figure it all out for yourself. It’s change, constant change, under total duress. And there’s no wrong and right, at least, no one to tell you what that is any more. We all just make it up as we go in whatever circumstances present themselves. Sometimes it comes together, sometimes it fails dismally. If you’re lucky you get another chance to do it all again in the morning.
I failed dismally at the wall. Who was t
hat guy, was it even me? I just froze. Then the same me 30 minutes later is going all action film finale on the world – who was that guy? My reputation has come out looking fine (not that it really matters to me… but it does), yet I still don’t know which one is the real me. Really, I can’t sit here and write these words with any more wisdom than I had in those moments, and I don’t think I had much in either. I may not even find out what is the real me until next time I’m in mortal danger. That thought alone just scares me.
Not knowing yourself, I reckon that’s the biggest danger of them all in the new world. That can get you killed as quick as any weapon. I’m starting to realise, as I’m typing these words, that’s the thing that’s bugging me the most out of all of this. I am here because I’m a survivor – and that’s no fluke – that’s attention to detail, thinking ahead of the game, being crafty, being creative, inventive, reading people well, it’s a million little things that add up to alive. And I like alive. Whatever happened today, these two extremes came out of me, neither of which are me. That can make a guy really question everything.
I’ve decided to end that train of thought. It’s been an emotional day. It’s been an emotional few months to be honest. I guess you actually keep it all buried down for so much of the time, then, when days like today happen, it can just bubble to the surface in some pretty weird ways.
Just like when I was feasting earlier, I’m going to shift my train of thought to the positives. While I proved I’ve got some issues in the making-it-up-on-the-spot department, my planning is world class. When I think of all the little thoughts and actions that have led me to be in this magnificent place, well, I’m one damn proud survivor.
I may like being alive, but I double like being alive in this new fortress, with these people. None of this would’ve happened without me.
This isn’t a getting through the day place, this is the start of a new beginning. I truly believe that. This place, these people, we could build something amazing – new Adelaide or something.
It was nice sharing my last drink with Shane tonight. He was looking a little worse for wear (as Dad used to say). Joyce had pulled out some fragments from the wound in his arm, which was bandaged, and he showed me his ear. The gristly bit at the top was just flopped over and down. It looked painful and certainly didn’t look like it was going to stay attached, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, we just enjoyed the moment, our victory, our creation.
Anyway, it’s been a long, long day. We didn’t see any sign of the hubbers tonight; not sure if that’s a good sign or not. We were making plans to do a recon in the morning to see what’s what at the hospital.
I’m off to chat to Fi.
*
November 6, 2014
They’re gone!
The Norwood hubbers are no longer in the city. I went out with Ye-jun, Kelly and Jonesy, setting out up North Tce.
The first sight that greeted us was the aftermath of yesterday’s fighting. We spotted Nick’s body on King William Rd and called on the two-way to get a team to retrieve his remains. There were four hubber bodies further along the street – a tribute to Nick’s last stand. He’d stopped their momentum down King William Rd, long enough for Joyce, Steph and Shane to get home safely, and long enough for the hubbers’ other front to fail and the threat fall apart. Had he not been there and the two fronts hit us at once, it would’ve been a different story today.
Then it was on to North Tce and the carnage around the war memorial. After passing a number of hubber bodies, presumably shot by Craig, we came to Brian’s body lying in the ash. He still had a look of surprise on his face – now stuck there for all time. I wondered what must have been going through his mind during those final minutes. He knew there was a risk of it all going south, but he went anyway, seeking compromise and cooperation.
He didn’t get it.
All he got was a final lesson in how this new world works, and that no amount of nobility, intellect or best intentions can stop hunger, need and greed. That will stay with me for a long time. He deserved better after all he’d endured and how he’d stayed true to his beliefs… he just deserved better.
Oh, and despite all the bodies, there was no sign of the fat man. Presumably, he’d survived. How he makes it out alive and Brian doesn’t, well, that just sums up everything about this messed up world.
We stayed there for a good few minutes before calling it in on the two-way. It was a pretty eerie spot to stand. It was hard to know what emotion should prevail as I stood there… loss, anger, sadness. I chose to pack it up in a bag and hide it away for now – there was still too much to do to deal with it – then moved on to the hubbers’ HQ.
It didn’t take us long to realise our victory was a complete one. The Royal Adelaide Hospital was still burning when we got there. Smoke billowed up into the air until it mixed with the soupy sky. A huge channel of footprints and sled marks in the ash headed east. They had headed home. There were still quite a few of them.
Good news for now, probably bad news for the long run. They left their home in Norwood for a reason. They know what this place offers. I can’t help but think they’ll be back, wiser than before. Angrier too.
We all knew it. We said enough to each other to know that we were all on the same wavelength with what may happen in the future, but that was about it. I think we all wanted to savour the victory while we could. At least that’s what I was thinking.
We tried our best to find any clues as to who they were and their numbers, but if they did leave any meaningful traces of their short stay, it was burning in a ward somewhere above us. It’s a strange feeling, fighting other people, beating them – and still knowing so little about them. I felt completely unresolved about it all. It was as if I felt life owed me more of an explanation, given everything I had to endure to get to that moment. So many whys. Haha - like life ever serves up what you were hoping for anyway. That goes double for post-rock life – evil genius.
I would just have to settle for overwhelming ass-kicking victory to ease the hollowness.
We milled around for a while longer, feeling safer with each second, then we headed back via the mall to see what we could see. There were well warn tracks all along the mall, but the heaviest clustering centred around a couple of clothes shops, a department store and the Coles.
Again, it was really hard to get an idea of what the true enemy numbers were, given so much activity, but it was clearly a serious operation, that much was clear.
When we were closer to the King William St end of the mall we turned up to North Tce again, trying to find the roof spot Craig had perched on. It took a few minutes.
Again, judging by the tracks at the base, it looked like the hubbers who were stopped by Nick on King William Rd went back looking for Craig as they retreated. There was a body at the base of the Adelaide Club building and another one at the top with feet dangling over the edge.
We did have an ironic laugh about Craig dying at the Adelaide Club. A posh secret businessman’s group – Craig couldn’t have been further from the type of people who would’ve hung out there pre-rock. The only men’s club he would’ve been in, would’ve involved pole dancers.
Ye-jun and I climbed the piled ash that marked the way Craig must’ve gone to his position in the first place. The ash piled to a first-storey ledge, to an airconditioning unit where he’d climbed a down pipe to get to the second storey. Then across the roof to the front of the building where there was another climb on ash and downpipe to the third-storey rooftop on North Terrace. When we hit the top, we saw his body surrounded by blood, but his gun was missing. We dragged him to the edge, then did our best to ease him down to the ground again, but it was far from dignified.
By the time we’d gotten down, there was a sled waiting to take him back to the oval. We all returned to home base as one.
*
Just got back from dinner feast. The losses we’ve suffered are really starting to sink in. The whole dynamic between the
watched and Shane and I has changed without Brian there. Lana has stepped up in his absence, but it’s not the same. Nothing is the same really.
Tomorrow we’ll bury the bodies and begin reinforcing our defences.
Underneath all the planning, you can tell everyone is worried. Even with all our planning and execution, we got very, very lucky yesterday. And being three people less, our major weakness is more exposed – we need more people.
This time, there’s no easy fix to that. Who could we get and from where. It’s a thought for another day, but it has to be one day soon. The adrenalin of battle and the triumph of victory from yesterday are already starting to lose its shine. There is a long road ahead.
Tradition has also changed last night. I didn’t share a final drink with Shane, he was with Steph. The two have been pretty close since everything went down yesterday; she’s really cut up over Craig’s loss and I don’t think her and Mark seem to be together anymore. I don’t think anything’s happening yet, but it will.
I’m feeling a little lonelier because of it, though. I’m off to chat with Fi.
*
November 7, 2014
This world never fails to surprise. Just when you settle on a path forward, something new gets thrown into the mix to make you question everything, or shove you in a totally different direction, or just plain mess with you. Today did all three and then some.
This morning we buried Brian, Nick and Craig. Lana spoke well about all three. It’s amazing how little I knew about them – even Brian. But not Lana. She knew enough about all three men to tell their life story post-rock, to tell us who they were before life changed and how they changed because of that. She worded it all in such a way as to give their existence, and final moments, a point.
I cried. It was a mix of tears for missing them, for realising the depth of the sacrifices they’d made, knowing the risks, guilt at being alive, but it was mostly guilt at not really knowing them that well as people. I hadn’t really had time to know the history in their lives that’d made them who they were. Yet they died for me, us and this place.
Diary of a Survivor (Book 2): Apocalypse Page 23
