The Survivors_Pandemic

by Alex Burns

  “Okay, okay!” I raised my hands in defeat. “Not too much.”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “Mum, can I get you anything?”

  Mum shook her head. I went to the freezer where I knew Mum kept her bread. There were a few loaves stocked in the freezer drawer. I stared at the toaster, trying to keep my mind blank, while it did it’s thing. Sometimes I felt like I might be able to process everything that had happened, one day. Other times I felt like I’d never be able to, and the only way I could go forward was to just go through the motions. Pretend everything was okay. One foot in front of the other.

  The toast popped up. I carefully buttered the hot toast and then spread a very thing layer of Vegemite on. I had a clear image in my mind of a younger Sarah, very delicately spreading the tiniest amount of Vegemite on her toast. Dad had laughed at her and said she may as well just have butter and leave it at that.

  “There you go.” I placed the toast in front of my niece. “How’d I do?” Charlotte eyed the plate and then snatched up one of the pieces.

  “Good,” she said through a mouthful of toast. Maggie must have heard the crunch for she was soon sitting next to Charlotte, staring intently at the small girl, waiting impatiently for any crumbs to drop. A pile of drool soon formed down her front.

  “Ugh, Maggie. Get a grip.” Horatio whined from the threshold of the kitchen. He knew he wasn’t allowed in there, even though Maggie didn’t know the rules yet. He wiggled forward, testing the invisible boundary.

  “No, Horatio,” Mum said suddenly. “Maggie, out!” Mum got up and pulled Maggie out by the collar. Maggie didn’t go willingly, just kept staring at the toast in Charlotte’s hand.

  “May as well get started,” Mum said to me with a shrug. She’ll be here for a while, Mum left unspoken.

  It felt almost normal, sitting there around the kitchen table watching Charlotte eat and slowly eating my own bowl of yogurt. For some reason it was easier to eat than solids, and my tastebuds and stomach didn’t rebel as much. I half expected Sarah to waltz into the kitchen and take up her usual seat by the window.

  It wasn’t normal though. It was a Tuesday (probably); I should be at work, most likely in some boring meeting. Charlotte should be at school, learning how to read and write. Mum should be at her school, teaching reluctant students how to read music. Tristan should be waiting at home for me when I walked in after a long days work, and Sarah should be there to pick up Charlotte after school, and listen to her tales about the day.

  I felt like the room was caving in on me. I needed to get out of there, just for a little while.

  “I’ll take the dogs for a run,” I told Mum. She nodded. Charlotte looked up from her toast.

  “Can I come too?”

  “Sorry, pumpkin. You can come next time, promise.” Mum frowned at me, but I needed some alone time.

  I rummaged around in my suitcase, looking for my running gear. Once I was dressed, I went back out to the living room and whistled to get the dogs attention. They both came bounding up to me, tails wagging, excitement written all over their bodies. I wished I was a dog. Life was simple. Walks, food, a human or two to lavish praise and attention on you… all was good with the world as far as they were concerned. I almost put leads on them, but left them lying in their spot by the phone. It wasn’t like they were at risk of being run over and neither dog was prone to run off.

  “Be careful,” Mum said as I pulled my runners on.

  I nodded, wondering what exactly I was meant to be careful of.

  I slid the door open and the dogs raced out, almost knocking me over in their excitement. I followed. Horatio put his nose down and started following some scent around. Maggie trailed after him for a minute or so, but soon came back to trot next to me. I looked down at her. Did she miss Lucy and Alan? Did she wonder where they were and when they were coming back for her? Did dogs do that? I knew that if they miraculously turned up, she’d be far more excited to see them than she ever was to see me, but… she still seemed happy enough. I envied her.

  I turned left once I got to Mum’s gate, intending to run around the block. The thought of all the empty, or rather not so empty, houses made my stomach churn so I headed the other way, out of town. I ran past the little sign that said, ‘Welcome to Turalla. Population: 335’. They’d have to fix that, I thought grimly.

  The paddocks were a brilliant green after all the winter rains we’d had, and now the sunshine. Cows bellowed at each other. I slowed down, frowning. Who was looking after them? Perhaps some of the farmers had survived, I thought, watching the curious cows line up along the fence to inspect me and Maggie. Maggie didn’t seem to know what to make of the big black and white creatures and stood next to me, eyeing them with trepidation. Horatio soon came bounding up and ran towards the cows, barking like he didn’t have a care in the world. The cows scattered. Maggie ran after the other dog, suddenly no longer scared. I let out a faint laugh. It was strangely comforting to watch the two dogs cavort around. Horatio stopped at the fence and turned to looked back at me.

  “Horatio, here!” When he’d been a puppy he would have just charged off after the retreating cattle, without a single thought or consideration to what his human wanted him to do. Mum had trained him well over the years, though. She’d had to. Old Jock, the farmer behind Mum’s house, had threatened to shoot the dog if he kept on herding up his cows.

  Horatio threw a longing glance at the cows but obediently came back to me a a few moments of doggy deliberation.

  We kept going along, past the lane with its bare trees. Buds were starting to form on some of the branches. Spring was on its way. It always came a bit later in Turalla than Melbourne.

  I cut across an empty paddock, thinking we might climb to the top of Mount Turalla to check out the view. Tristan had scoffed when I’d told him what the little hill was named the first time I’d brought him home.

  “That’s not a mountain!” he’d said with a laugh.

  “Well, it’s an extinct volcano,” I’d said, coming to my local mountain’s defence. “Give it some respect.”

  He’d just laughed though. I didn’t blame him. Mount Turalla was only about three hundred metres tall. The Canadians where Tristan was from wouldn’t have even bothered to name it.

  I slogged through the wet, overgrown grass. I figured I wouldn’t have to worry about snakes at this time of year. It was kind of funny; they were definitely around, but even though I’d grown up in the country, I’d never seen a live wild snake around home. I’d seen quite a few dead ones - red bellied black snakes, tiger snakes, and the odd brown snake. The dog’s we’d had over the years had had a bad habit of dragging them home. Seeing as the dogs had still been alive, we always figured they’d found the snakes already in their deceased state. Too many of my friends growing up had lost dogs and cats to snake bites. But still, I’d never actually seen a live wild snake until I moved to Melbourne. I shook my head, remembering. I’d been walking down an ordinary suburban street, only a few kilometres out from the CBD, and a medium sized tiger sake had slithered out and crossed the road. I’d frozen in my tracks, not quite sure if I could believe my eyes, and then whipped out my phone to take proof that I’d really seen a snake.

  A shot gun firing cracked my snake reverie. I froze. It sounded a bit too close for comfort. Another shot rang out and I crouched down, frantically looking around for the dogs. I cursed. Maggie had bolted, running as fast as her shaggy legs could carry her. I couldn’t see Horatio anywhere, but soon heard him barking and let out a sigh of relief. It didn’t sound like an in-pain bark. More like an excited bark.

  “Hello?” a male voice called out. I frowned into the mud. That voice sounded familiar. I tried to place it.

  “Is anyone there?” The man yelled out again. “Jenny?”

  I stood up, trying to brush the mud off my knees and arms. I definitely knew that voice.

  “Jack?” I muttered, barely believing my ears. I scanned the paddock, staring in the direction
where I could hear Horatio barking. I couldn’t see anyone at first, and was starting to think I’d lost the plot, but then a tall figure stepped out from the shadow of an ancient gum tree. I started running over towards him, stumbling and almost tripping a few times over the rocks and branches lying in the paddock.

  “Jack?” I asked once I was closer. He stood there, all six feet and four inches of him, with his dark messy hair and a scruffy beard, holding a shot gun in one hand and trying to fend off Horatio’s enthusiastic greeting with the other.

  He stared at me and then blinked a few times.

  “Alice? Alice Buchanan, is that really you?”

  I nodded and stepped closer to him, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him.

  “Well, shit.” He put the gun carefully down and then wrapped me in a big bear hug, lifting me off my feet. I tried to remember the last time I’d seen him. It had been years. He’d been one of Sarah’s best friends during high school. He’d spent a lot of time at our house, him and Sarah laughing over something, or playing some random game, or whatever it was that kept them so busy out in the shed. They let me tag along with them on the odd occasion. They’d drifted apart a bit after Sarah moved to the city for university. Jack had stayed in Turalla, got an apprenticeship, been a good country lad. They were still friends though, he’d been at her wedding. Maybe that had been the last time I’d seen him…

  Jack put me down and held my shoulders in his big hands. He gazed intently into my face. I’d never noticed how green his eyes were before.

  “Shit,” he said again. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Likewise,” I said. I gave him another hug around his middle. Horatio bounced up and down next to us, acting more like a pogo stick than a dog.

  “You’re okay?”

  “Okay is relative these days, isn’t it…” I said quietly.

  “Yeah… Tell me about it…” Jack bent over and picked up his gun. He propped it against his shoulder.

  “What are you doing with that?” I eyed the weapon warily. “I thought someone was trying to shoot me for a second.”

  Jack let out a quick strangled laugh. “Why would anyone try and shoot you here?” He shook his head. “Nah. Rabbits. Pa wanted some fresh meat.”

  “Your dad’s okay then?” I asked. I’d met Jack’s parents a few times. Sarah had been pretty close to them back in the day.

  Jack shook his head slowly and looked down at the ground. “Pa’s my grandfather.”

  “Oh…”

  Jack exhaled. “Yeah…”

  We started walking back towards the road, side by side.

  “So did you get any rabbits?” Jack shook his head. I probably should have gathered that from his empty hands.

  “Nah. Don’t think so. Reckon your dogs scared ‘em off. Besides, it’s not exactly the best time for it… I just needed to get a bit of fresh air.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  We walked side by side for a few minutes, with only the sound of birds chattering and cows bellowing. Horatio raced ahead following another fascinating scent. I couldn’t see Maggie anywhere. I hoped she’s headed back to Mum’s.

  Neither of us seemed to want to broach the inevitable.

  “Are you staying at your Mum’s?” Jack asked once we reached the road. My runners were soaked from all the dew and my feet were freezing.

  I nodded. “Yeah… I came home yesterday.”

  “She okay?” he asked.

  I nodded. I didn’t want to tell him.

  “Good,” he said. “I popped in to check on her last week.”

  “That was nice of you,” I said. Jack shrugged in response.

  “Where were you? Before you came home?” Jack asked, looking at me sideways.

  “Melbourne.”

  “What’s it like there? I haven’t heard any real news for a while.”

  I looked across the green paddocks and blue sky. It was so peaceful, it was almost hard to believe that the world had gone to hell.

  “It was…” I trailed off. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s surreal. It was just… it was like everyone gradually disappeared over a few days and never came back. It’s like a ghost town.”

  Jack didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared over the paddocks.

  “Sorry, I need to ask…” Jack said and then stopped. I waited, pretty sure I knew what he was going to say, and wishing he wouldn’t. “Sarah… Is she okay?”

  My throat closed up. I couldn’t say anything around the giant lump. It was still far too raw. Jack looked down at me. He must have read the answer in my face. He seemed to deflate, folding in on himself.

  “Shit. Shit. I’m so sorry, Alice. Shit.” Jack ran his free hand through his hair and started pacing back and forth.

  “Who else?” Jack asked after a minute or two. “Her little girl? Her husband? Your brother?”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. I leaned against the fence post to steady myself.

  “Charlotte’s fine. She got sick… but she got better somehow.”

  “Oh, thank Christ.”

  I plowed on. “But her husband didn’t make it.”

  “I’m sorry Alice.” Jack’s voice was deep and full of sadness.

  “I don’t know about Tom and Dad. We haven’t heard from them for ages. But until I know otherwise, I’m going to assume they’re fine. I have to.”

  Jack nodded, understanding. “What about your Canadian bloke?” Jack asked tentatively, looking at me worriedly.

  “I don’t know about him, either.” My breath hitched again. I squeezed the fingers on my left hand together so I could feel my engagement ring. Jack reached for me and put his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me against his jacket. It smelt like horses. “He was flying back from Canada when they closed the border,” I mumbled into his coat. Jack released me slightly, but kept an arm around me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to comfort me, or draw comfort for himself. I looked up at him. His face was stony, and his jaw was clenched. “He didn’t make it through in time,” I added lamely. Jack rubbed my arm, still not saying anything. “I haven’t been able to talk to him since the phones and internet went down,” I said. “What about you?” I added after a few minutes of us standing there, drawing comfort from each other.

  Jack swore again. “I can’t believe Sarah’s really gone. You’re sure?”

  I nodded, scrunching up my face. “I can’t really believe it either, but I found their bodies, so…”

  Before I knew what was happening, I was crying into Jack’s smelly coat, my tears and snot soaking it. Jack just held me, rocking slightly, while I cried myself out.

  “I’m sorry,” I sniffed.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his own voice wobbling.

  “I feel like I’ve had a permanent headache the past few weeks with all the crying I’ve done,” I said with a forced laugh. I rubbed my now-disgusting sleeve over my face.

  “Yeah, it’s been a bit like that,” Jack agreed soberly.

  “I… I haven’t asked you properly…” I trailed off, wondering what the best way to ask who’d died was. He knew what I meant though.

  “Mum and Dad both caught it,” he said with a sigh. “And so did my… girlfriend, Sophie.”

  I vaguely remembered Sophie Tucker from high school. She’d been a few years ahead of me though, and a year ahead of Jack and Sarah. I hadn’t known her very well.

  “I’m so sorry, Jack.” I felt like we’d both said that phrase too much.

  Jack didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewed his lip and scratched his beard. “Nan and Pa made it though. I don’t get that. Nan’s been sick for years with cancer, but she survives this… young healthy people like Sarah and Sophie die… Dad was meant to retire next month…”

  “I don’t understand it either,” I said quietly. “Mum said old Ina Lewis is fine too. She’s got to be 92 or so.”

  Jack nodded and then shook his head.

  “I should find my ot
her dog,” I said after a moment. I was starting to worry Maggie wouldn’t be able to find her way home.

  “I’ll help you,” Jack said.

  “It’s okay, you don’t need to.” I whistled for Horatio and started walking back towards town.

  “It’s all right.” Jack fell in beside me.

  We walked in silence for a few hundred metres, Horatio trotting along in front of us.

  “What kind of dog is it?” Jack asked. “I didn’t really get a good look.”

  “Bernese Mountain dog,” I said. “Her name’s Maggie. Don’t take it personally if she doesn’t like you. She’s a bit wary of strange, large men.”

  Jack snorted. “Who isn’t. How long have you had her?”

  “She’s not mine. She’s my friend Lucy’s. Lucy… she… well…” I trailed off, swallowing hard. It wasn’t getting any easier, that was for sure.

  Jack nodded, understanding. I was glad I didn’t have to verbalise it.

  “I couldn’t just leave her there,” I said. “She would have starved.”

  Jack nodded again. “That was good of you,” he said. He let out a faint laugh and shook his head. “Pa’s been going around to as many farms as he can get to and trying to feed all the animals.”

  “Oh. Wow. I didn’t even think… aren’t the cows just fine in the fields?”

  Jack frowned. “Well, some of them are, for now. But they need to be moved around otherwise they eat all the grass, and there are a lot of other animals on farms other than cows… and…” he trailed off, frowning.

  “What?”

  “Well, it’s pretty gruesome, but he’s had to shoot a few. Cows, how we’ve bred them, well, unless their dried off properly, they need to be milked. If they’re not, they can get infections and it’s not pretty. We’ve found a few cows who were past help. It seemed kinder… well, yeah.”

  “Still, that’s an amazing thing for your Pa to take on. It’s just so fucked up think about how many animals and kids,” I said, thinking of Charlotte all alone for days, “must be fending for themselves.”

  “They won’t last long,” Jack said grimly. “Not the domestic animals if they’re trapped inside. And besides, a lot of them wouldn’t do so well even if they got out. Not exactly a lot of wolf left in a little chihuahua or a toy poodle.”