by James Harden
“See what?” Maria said.
I moved towards him again and pulled his shirt collar down so I could see his shoulder and his chest. His skin was kind of gray. I could see his ribs. And his collarbone was sticking out, like he was malnourished or anorexic or something.
No black mark though.
“Should you be so close to him?” Maria asked. “I don’t think that’s safe. That’s exactly how I was bitten, remember?”
“Good point.”
I made sure my rifle was loaded and took a step back. I pointed the barrel directly at his head. “Do you want to say a few words?”
“Don’t know,” Maria answered. “It’s hard to say something when you don’t know them. We only spoke a few words. He seemed like a good man. Someone who would give his life for another. I don’t know how or why he is dead when we are not. I just don’t know.” After a while she said, “May God, or someone, have mercy on his soul. Have a good journey.”
“Have a good journey?”
“Yeah. You know, to the other side or wherever.”
We didn't know if he was infected but it was better to be safe than sorry. We were going to make sure that he didn’t turn, that he didn’t come back. So I put a bullet in his brain.
We were about to climb down from the attic of the barn, when I noticed the harpoon launcher that they had used when they were under attack from the nano-swarms.
It was next to the window.
I moved over to it and picked it up. I saw the name of the manufacturer on the barrel.
YoshidaCorp.
I traced the name with my finger.
“What is it?” Maria asked.
I showed her the weapon. Showed her the name.
Yoshida is Kenji’s surname. YoshidaCorp is his father’s company.
“What do you think it means?” she asked. “What do you think happened to Kenji?”
“I don't know. Don’t want to think about it.”
Again, I must’ve drifted off into my own little world because the next thing I know, Maria had taken the prototype weapon off me. She placed it on the ground and led me out of the barn.
“We need to stay positive,” she said. “We need to stay strong.”
I nodded my head. She was right. We still had a job to do. We had a mission. I needed to be strong for Maria.
Time to get back to business.
“Come on,” Maria said. “It’s getting dark. We need to make it back to the tracks before dark.”
We began walking. Maria was deep in thought. Her forehead, her entire brow was all scrunched up.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s nothing. Actually, I’m not sure. It’s just that, the way that guy was throwing up black vomit. It reminded me of Daniel. He was so sick. It was scary,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
“To be honest, I don’t know. But I do know that he is one tough dude. And plus, he was at his camp. His base. That means if his people are looking for him, that’s the first place they’ll look. That’s the first thing they teach in survival school, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Stay with the camp. Stay with the car or boat or plane or whatever. You’ve got a better chance of being found. If you go walking off, you’re screwed.”
Maria nodded. Thinking it over. “But that’s exactly what we did. We walked off. We walked off into the Australian outback.”
“We had no choice. We have to find our friends. We have to get you to the safety of the Fortress.”
“But I'm worried,” Maria continued. “You heard what that guy said. Code Black. Lockdown. The entire residential area and the research lab. What if this place is overrun?”
“We heard those voices, right? So we know there are survivors. And we saw the surveillance drone. Someone is remote piloting that thing. Trust me; this is where we will find Jack. And Kim. It has to be. We have to keep going.”
The sun continued to set. The sky was still overcast.
As we walked back to the tank tracks, I looked back at the barn. I don’t know why I looked back. I just did. It was like a reflex, like I could sense something or someone. And as I looked back I could’ve sworn someone was standing in the window of the barn. Looking at us. I was so shocked, I lost my footing. I stumbled and tripped over a rock. When I got to my feet and looked back, the figure was gone.
“Are you all right?” Maria asked as she helped me to my feet.
“Yeah. I just thought… I thought I saw someone.”
“What?”
“Someone in the window. The man,” I said. I could barely form whole sentences. “There was a shadow, a figure, a silhouette. He was standing in the window. Looking at us. Watching us.”
Maria looked back at the barn, squinting her eyes. “There’s nothing there.”
I rubbed my head. It still throbbed and ached. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. The desert playing tricks on me. I hoped so.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 5
The cloud cover remained, so when night time arrived we could not see a damn thing. It was too dark. No moonlight. No starlight. We dug a foxhole and slept during the night, taking turns at keeping watch. I don’t think either of us got much sleep. The next day, the cloud cover had dissipated. But it was early in the morning and we figured we should get a move on. It would be best if we got back to the tank tracks. Just in case.
As we walked, Maria kept asking me and interrogating me about Ben. The things he had done. She was worried about me. After I lost my cool yesterday, she thought I was becoming violent. Maybe she was right.
“Tell me,” she said.
“No.”
“Just tell me.”
“Why?”
“You never told me. That's why.”
Maria was pestering me about the scene in the church in the town of Hope.
The murder scene.
The scene of torture.
Justice, according to Ben.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked.
“Because it's important,” she answered.
“No, it's not.”
“It is. It's important because it symbolizes where we're at. The reality.”
The scene flashes in my mind every now and then. Like lightning. Maybe it would be better to talk about it. Talk about Ben. Big Ben. He was part maniac, part hero. He had saved Maria and me from a certain death. And then he had killed the priest, Father Damon. And his men. He had killed them with his bare hands.
He had tortured four men. Four that I’m sure of. He might’ve tortured more.
Maria wants to know the specifics.
The gory details.
I don’t know why.
“Just tell me,” she said again.
The truth is, big Ben may have been crazy.
The truth is, we owe him our lives.
The truth is, he crucified the priest. Strung him up above the altar in the church.
If I had to guess, I'd say he probably enjoyed it.
“You don't want to know,” I said.
“Yes I do.”
I took a deep breath. “Fine. I'll tell you.”
I was about to tell her all the gory details. The part how the priest’s arms were stretched out, his shoulders dislocated. How his neck was at this impossible and awkward angle. How his skin from his back was flayed and spread out like angel wings.
I was about to tell Maria all of this. But I didn’t.
I stopped walking.
The tank tracks had disappeared.
Chapter 6
We both stopped immediately. The tank tracks had disappeared. We were officially screwed. We were in the middle of the desert. Barely any food. Barely any water.
We both looked around frantically. Fear took a firm grip in my chest.
The dusty dirt red ground was barren. It offered no answers.
The only thing in the immediate area was
a waist high, black metallic pole that stuck up out of the desert.
I walked up to it. “What is this?” I asked with fear and anger in my voice. “What the hell is this?”
Maria just shook her head. “I don’t know.”
I kicked the pole out of frustration. It was secured firmly in the ground. “We are screwed.”
“Don’t say that.”
“We don’t have enough water to make it back. How much do you have?” I asked Maria as I wriggled out of my own backpack and checked my water supply. I had one bottle and one canteen left.
“Maria? How much water do you have left?”
Maria didn’t answer. “Hey, what’s that?” she asked.
“What’s what?”
She pointed. “Behind the pole.”
I looked. There was what appeared to be a square patch of carpet. Covered in dust and dirt. The piece of carpet was covering a small ditch, like someone had hastily dug a hole to bury something, and then had tried to hide it.
I leant over and picked up the dirty piece of carpet. What I saw was enough to make me feel sick. And I should have taken it as a warning sign from a higher power to get the hell out of there.
Turn back.
Run.
It was a ditch of severed hands.
All the fingers were clawed in rigor mortis. The hands had been severed just above the wrist, about half way up the forearm. The hands were all dusty. They were covered in blood that was dried and cracked and brown.
On the inside of each wrist was a barcode.
Maria took a step back. “What the hell? What is this? What’s going on?”
She put her hand up to her mouth. She looked like she was going to be sick.
“I don't know,” I whispered.
It was all I could say.
I put the piece of carpet back, covering the ditch of hands. This was a bad sign. The fear that had taken hold in my chest was spreading to the rest of my body.
The tracks we had been following were gone. We had hoped they would lead us to the Fortress. Or to another outpost, or to a town, or something.
But they hadn’t.
They had led us out into the middle of nowhere, to a metal pole and a ditch of severed hands.
We had taken a gamble. A huge risk. We had risked our lives. And we had lost.
“Where did the tracks go?” Maria asked. “Where did the tanks go?”
“I don't know,” I repeated.
“They didn’t just disappear!”
But they did.
“Where did they go?” she asked. “Why is there a ditch of severed hands!?”
Maria shouted the questions at me and at the desert. She was scared and freaking out and so was I. We had walked off into the desert with no real plan other than to follow these goddamn tank tracks.
And now they had disappeared.
I was about to tell her to calm down, that we needed to think rationally and figure this shit out and plan our next move. But I never got the chance. Suddenly we heard a weird noise.
A ‘pop hiss’.
Something small, like a can of soda, came flying and smoking towards us. And then another.
We immediately began choking.
Tears filled my eyes.
I dropped to my knees, trying to cover my face.
My throat and my eyes and my nose were on fire.
I couldn’t see properly, but someone or something emerged from the dusty desert ground.
Emerged.
I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s like they were hiding in the dirt. Under the ground.
Waiting.
Waiting for what?
For us?
“Get down!” a voice growled. “Drop the rifle! Do not run. Do not move. You move, you die.”
Chapter 7
Maria and I had both fallen to our knees. Our faces were covered in tears and snot.
A man was standing over us. He had a shotgun pointed directly at our heads. He appeared to be a soldier. He was wearing desert camouflage fatigues. He had a huge, overgrown beard. It was big and wild and unkempt. It was knotted and full of dust and twigs from the desert brush. The exposed sections of his skin were red. His eyes were bloodshot.
He kicked away my rifle and then he began talking to himself and rambling.
“They killed everyone else,” he said. “The General cleansed the Fortress. Cured the ranks of weakness. He is a great man.”
“Please don’t hurt us,” I blurted out. “We’re looking for our friends.”
“In the desert?” he asked.
“Yeah. We were following the tank tracks,” Maria said.
“Haven’t you heard? There is nothing in the desert. Nothing but death and heat and pressure. Nothing is out here. Not even the Fortress. Code Black. Lockdown.”
“Do you know where it is?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” he said as he spread his arms out wide. “It is all around us.”
“What is in that ditch?” Maria asked. “The severed hands. What happened?”
“Never you mind little girl. Best forget about the hands. They're watching. They are always watching.”
What the hell was this guy talking about? Who were watching? The hands were watching?
“Did you do that?” I asked. “Did you cut …” I trailed off. I couldn’t even ask the question.
“No,” he answered. “Someone else did that. Someone who knew. Someone without conscience. Someone who either is prepared to do whatever it takes to survive, or enjoys doing whatever it takes to survive.”
This guy wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. And he looked sick. Not infected with the Oz virus, but just sick. Malnourished. Sun burnt. Suffering from next level heat stroke.
“The General exiled me,” he said. “He had his reasons. The desert. The heat. The pressure. Before it kills you, it changes you. Hey blondie, give me a look at your face.”
He grabbed Maria by the hair and studied her face. He turned on a small computer screen attached to the inside of his left wrist. It was similar to the control panel on the NBC suit. But not as sleek. It looked like an earlier model or something.
“Yeah, this is you all right,” he said as a smile crept across his dusty cracked lips. “Yeah boys. Today is our lucky day. I thought she looked familiar. It’s her. It’s Maria Marsh. Check your Intel report. It’s her, man.”
I looked at Maria worriedly. Who the hell was he talking to?
He showed us the small computer screen on his wrist. “See?”
There was a picture on the computer monitor. It was a picture of Maria. A school photo from last year. She had a radiant smile. A bright blue ribbon in her hair.
“This is our ticket out of here,” he said to I’m not sure who. “Or at the very least back into the Fortress. The General has gotta let us back in now, right?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. It’s highly classified intelligence, you know? It’s above Top Secret. Maria Marsh. Female. Approximately sixteen years old. Medium height. Blonde. Blue eyes. She is reportedly immune to the Oz virus. I personally don’t believe it. But it doesn’t matter what I believe.”
“So the military is looking for Maria?” I asked.
“Of course. The whole world is looking for Maria Marsh.”
“Well, here I am,” Maria said. “You found me. I’ll gladly help. I want to help.”
“With your blood we can manufacture and anti-virus,” he said. “Make a fortune. Just imagine it. Any country or government that doesn't buy it off us, we will release the virus in their population. I guarantee they'll buy it after that. Just imagine it. What we could do. I mean, just imagine the amount of money you could charge for this vaccine. And they’ll pay. They’ll all pay.”
He then started singing an extremely disturbing version of ‘Imagine’ by John Lennon.
“How the hell have you survived for this long?” the man asked
after he had stopped singing. “And what are you wearing?”
“This is an NBC suit,” Maria answered. “It has saved my life more than once.”
“Never seen anything like it. Although it’s kind of like mine. Land Warrior system. Officially the program was scrapped. Unofficially it was taken to the next level. Cloud based technology. God like. Omnipresent. All knowing, all seeing. How do you think the General sees all? The General, he was in charge down here. I mean, he is in charge. Not was. He is in charge. Yeah, that’s what I said. He is in charge down here.”
The man looked around quickly, as though he was about to be hit or punched. He even looked over his shoulder. He was spooked.
“From the moment of the outbreak,” he continued. “The moment the virus spread its tentacles across the country, he was in charge. He took charge. He never backed down. He ordered the nuclear strike. Man, the stones on this guy. He is brilliant. The conviction. The belief he has in himself. It is pure genius. And now he is preparing for a long, drawn out war. A war for survival. He will win. He will. You wanna know why?”
We didn’t get a chance to answer his question. We didn’t get a chance to say anything. This guy was talking crazy. He was rambling.
“I’ll tell you why. It’s because he is prepared. He is one hundred per cent prepared. He will do anything and everything. He is not afraid. He has a mastery of fear and a mastery of death. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never.”
The soldier spoke fast. Too fast to keep up with everything he was saying. Let alone understand everything he was saying. It must be the heatstroke, I thought. Either that, or he was on some serious drugs.
“Some say he’s crazy. Some say he’s acting on his own. I mean, sure, the military discharged him. Took away their resources, cut us off. Cut Australia off. But everything he has done. Everything. It has been for the greater good. He’s not acting on his own. How can you say that when his actions are for the survival of the human race? You can’t say it. And you shouldn’t dare say it. Lest he hears you. And believe me, he hears everything. He is watching. He’s always watching. Why do you think I’m out here? He knew. I had a moment of weakness. I wasn’t thinking straight. I questioned him. And he was listening. The one time I slipped. The one time I spoke out of line. He was listening. And watching. And this one time, he comes at me, stronger, louder. More severe than usual. He banished me. Although I guess I should consider myself lucky that he didn’t kill me, that he didn’t shoot me, that he didn’t cut off my head, that he didn’t hang me up in the mess hall for everyone to see, that he didn’t put my head on a stick for everyone to see. So yeah, I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. But I’ll make it up to him. You’ll see. I’ll make it up to him. I’m strong. I’m loyal. I am a soldier. I served in the Middle East. I never asked questions. Not even up in those Afghan mountains. Not when the shit hit the fan. Not after the first outbreak. Not when we lost control at Woomera. I have served until the very end. And this is how they treat me?”
