by Burns, Alex
I still have nightmares about that day. Decomposing corpses haunt my dreams. I can’t smell eucalyptus anymore without gagging. Sometimes it’s not just the corpses of the people I removed that invade my dreams; sometimes it’s corpses that I haven’t seen, ones that I don’t even know are dead or not. Tristan was a regular visitor to my nightmares. More mornings than I could count, I woke up trembling or crying, with a vision of Tristan’s decaying corpse burned in my mind. Occasionally I got a break from Tristan’s dead body, and instead it was Charlotte, or Mum, or even Jack and Ollie’s decomposing, maggot infested, bloated, disgusting bodies. Sleep was no longer a refuge.
The Turalla cemetery was a pleasant place, as far as cemeteries went. It was a peaceful spot, overlooking the lake on the edge of town. I’d always liked wandering around the older section of the cemetery, reading the epitaphs of long dead people. The older the grave, the better, in my opinion. The amount of babies, children and young adults buried there had always made me sad though. When I was a kid, I’d asked Dad why so many children had died in the olden days. He’d taken my hand as we paused in front of a crumbling family tomb that had had the misfortune of losing three children in the space of a month back in 1872. He’d patiently explained about diseases, and how people didn’t have access to the medicines or vaccines that we were lucky enough to have now. He’d told me that families back then were lucky if they didn’t lose any children. I’d looked up at him and said I was happy we were born now and not back then. Dad had stared at the grave and said it was just a matter of luck. You couldn’t choose which era you were born into, but he was glad too. We’d had no idea, of course, that we we’d been lulled into a false sense of security. We were no safer than the ancestors I’d felt so sorry for. We were probably less safe. The Red Death wouldn’t have been able to travel nearly as fast back then without planes or cars to jet us around at unimaginable speeds. Would the disease have been so catastrophic if it hadn’t been able to spread so fast?
Numb is the only word to describe how I felt at the burial ceremony. I barely remember it to be honest. Just flashes. People crying. Mum gripping my hand so hard it hurt. Jack hugging me. Kristy’s howling.
It was Neylan’s idea for the plaque. A list of everyone we buried there, and their age if possible. Ben volunteered to make it. Apparently engraving was one of his hobbies when he wasn’t marking high school history essays. It turned out pretty well, although I tended to avoid the cemetery as much as I could. Kristy haunted it. I think she would have wasted away if Neylan hadn’t kept feeding her.
Rhys and Addison moved in with Ben and Melissa. The Tucker siblings were given the option, but they had so many pets to look after they decided to stay in their own house. Judy and Betty started opening up the pub kitchen a few nights a week for people to come and eat together, and a bartering system slowly started forming. We wouldn’t let anyone go hungry, but we all had to contribute as much as we could as well. Weekly town meetings were held, just to check in with everyone. Not everyone went, but enough did. A strange, new kind of normal started to form.
Chapter Nineteen
“I can’t get the thought of Sarah and Chris just lying there out of my head,” Mum said, standing motionlessly with a knife in one hand and half an onion with the other. It was a couple of days after the town burial.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what to say.
It had been weeks since my sister had died, and I could imagine all too well what state her body was in. They still popped up regularly in my nightmares.
“I think we should go and bring them home,” Mum said after a minute. She nodded to herself and started chopping the onion again. “It’s just not right, leaving them there to rot.”
“What.” My voice came out croaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “What do you want to do?”
“We’ll take Jon’s van. Bring them home. Bury them here, where they belong. Somewhere where Charlotte can visit.”
I nodded. It made sense. It might even help Charlotte process the epic loss. Maybe.
“In the cemetery?” I asked. The pit was all filled in, but we were good at digging graves now.
Mum shook her head. “No, I was thinking perhaps under the oak tree. What do you think?”
I nodded again. Sarah had spent half her teenage years up that tree with a book, escaping her annoying younger siblings.
“When should we go?” I felt unsettled at the thought of returning to Melbourne.
“Soon,” Mum said. “Soon.”
Two days later Mum and I sat in the van. We’d siphoned some petrol out of the SUV and Lynette’s car. Jon assured us that a mostly full tank should get us to Melbourne and back, no problems. Charlotte was at Ina’s, and Jack had instructions to check in on them if we didn’t make contact by evening.
I’d done the drive from Turalla to Melbourne thousands of times over my lifetime. I’d never gone to pick up my dead sister’s body though. Two freshly dug graves were waiting for them under the oak tree. Jack had helped me dig them. Well, to be honest, Jack had done 90% of the digging.
We didn’t speak much for the rest of the drive. It was quiet. Normally Mum would have talkback radio on, and I’d be itching to switch it over to Triple J and listen to some music. There was only static on the radio now. I’d forgotten to put any CDs in the van and Jon didn’t have any in there. I realised ten minutes down the road, but Mum had refused to turn back.
“A few hours without music won’t kill you. Besides, it’ll give us a chance to talk.”
We didn’t do much talking though. We were both too lost in our own thoughts. I tried not to think about what we’d find at the end of our journey. I stared out the window at the rolling green fields and trees, not really seeing it though.
Mum took the back roads, steering clear of most of the towns between Turalla and Melbourne.
“It’s so strange,” Mum said as we approached the outskirts of Geelong. “We haven’t seen a single car the whole way.”
“It was like that on the way down, when I brought Charlotte…”
“I know, you said. But it’s still strange seeing it for myself.” Mum sighed, long and loud.
“Do you think things will ever go back to normal?” I asked in a small voice.
Mum sighed again. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I really don’t know. Probably not. Not for a long time, anyway.”
“Maybe things aren’t as bad overseas…” I said, thinking out loud. I hoped things weren’t as bad overseas, especially not in Canada. “Maybe someone will come to investigate and see what’s happened here and send help.”
“Maybe…” Mum said slowly. “I don’t think we should count on it though.”
The West Gate Freeway leading into the city was deserted. There were a few broken down cars by the side of the road, but no sign of living people. The car accidents I’d driven by on my way to Mum’s were still there. No one had cleared them away.
I kept an eye out for any exotic creatures as we got closer to the Werribee Zoo. I thought I caught a glimpse of a couple of giraffes off in the distance, but I couldn’t be sure.
“There were around five million people living in Melbourne,” Mum said, staring ahead at the deserted freeway. “There must be still hundreds - no, thousands still alive. That is, if Turalla’s experience can be extrapolated.”
“Ninety percent mortality rate there,” I said quietly. “Well, close enough.” It was actually slightly higher, but then again we didn’t know the exact figures. There had been a few unaccounted for families that could tip the balance either way.
“Right,” Mum said. “So, what’s ten percent of five million?” Mum looked at me and I belatedly realised she actually wanted an answer.
“Five hundred thousand.”
“Half a million people! Are you sure?” Mum glanced at me, her eyebrows arched.
“Yep,” I said with a nod. “Positive.”
“Where are they all then?”
�
��I have no idea, Mum.”
We drove on.
“Twenty four million Australians at last count,” Mum said after a few minutes. “That’s… what? Two point four million survivors?”
“I guess so,” I said slowly. “Well, in theory… and at first.”
“Yes, you’re right. Some places probably fared better than others too, I’d imagine.”
“Mmm.”
“Some towns probably got completely wiped out, but others were probably lighter hit,” Mum said.
“If there’s almost two and a half million survivors… maybe… could we recover?”
Mum chewed her lip. “Maybe. Depends who actually survived, doesn’t it? Did we lose all the people who are trained in essential services? Did we lose all the scientists? Did we lose the people who know how to keep the power grid running, or fix the internet? I don’t know.” Mum paused and slowed down to drive around another car wreck. “I hadn’t thought about the numbers before to be honest.”
We were both silent for a few minutes, watching the exits roll by. I glanced down at the speedo.
“I don’t think the speed cameras are still working, Mum.”
Mum frowned at me. “We’ve survived a deadly plague. I’m not about to risk your life in a car accident.”
“You could probably get away with going ten k’s over the speed limit though…” I said with a grin.
“Oh, be quiet.”
She sped up a little bit though.
We did start seeing some signs of life once we left the freeway. No cars out and about, but there was smoke coming out of some chimneys, and we saw a group of people walking down a road with a shopping trolley loaded with food. Half the group was armed with cricket bats, and I thought one guy might even have a gun. We didn’t stop.
My skin prickled, and I suddenly felt too conspicuous in the van. It wasn’t exactly a quiet vehicle.
“Even if two and a half million did survive the plague,” Mum said, picking up our conversation again, “I have a feeling that isn’t the end of it for the survivors.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I have a hunch that other things might kill a lot of us off.”
“Like what?” I stared out the window. Mum had slowed right down. There were stray dogs wandering around. I wondered what they were eating, then thought I didn’t actually want to know. I glimpsed quite a few cats lounging around in the midday sun, sitting on fences and in driveways.
“Well… as much as I hate to say it, we’re our own worst enemy half the time. Not all of us are nice, caring people.”
“Why would anyone want to kill anyone else after what we’ve been through, though?” Surviving something like this should band us together, not tear us apart.
“Why would anyone want to kill another person at any time? Resources, protection, desperation… mental health issues. We have a lot of people who have gone through unimaginable trauma and we’re all out of councillors, psychiatrists and psychologists to turn to. No help for people who need it. We’re on our own. Think about all the people who might have been battling depression or schizophrenia or any other mental illness that they were relying on medication to control. They’re going to run out. Then what?”
“Yeah, I ‘spose so.” I frowned, thinking of Crackhead Jimmy. “And you’ve got just good old general drug abusers. I’m pretty sure Jimmy’s got a huge stash of ice somewhere.”
“Suicide could be an issue,” Mum said quietly, turning down another street.
I frowned at her.
“Think about it, Alice,” Mum said almost impatiently. “Some people won’t be able to cope. I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve still got you and Charlotte, and maybe even Tom - I don’t know. But… honey, if you were all gone, I don’t know that I’d have the strength to carry on.”
“Don’t say that, Mum.”
“But it’s true,” Mum said sadly. “A lot of people out there - a lot of people at home - well, they might be the only one left in their entire family. When our loved ones are taken from us, our friends, our entire society as we know it… well, I’m just saying that I can only imagine some people feeling like life isn’t worth living anymore.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The thought weighed me down. I thought of Kristy. Maybe I should go and visit her and see how she was doing, instead of avoiding her. I wondered why the whole mass suicide thing hadn’t crossed my mind earlier. Even with everything I’d been through, even though sometimes I half-wished I hadn’t survived, I’d never actually contemplated killing myself.
“And then you’ve got the practical side of things,” Mum said, warming to the topic. It probably distracted her from thinking about what we were about to confront in a few short minutes. “Enough food. Uncontaminated water. Heat. Where are people going to get that from in a place like this? Not everyone is up to looting supermarkets or warehouses, and that’s a finite resource anyway. Water would be a big concern in the city. It’s not like you can drink safely from the Yarra, and most of the creeks are full of rubbish.”
“What a depressing conversation.” I shuddered at the thought of being so thirsty that I’d drink from the brown, polluted water of the lower Yarra River.
Mum didn’t respond, just looked grimly ahead.
“That would be pretty unfair in the scheme of things… survive the deadliest plague to hit humanity and then die of something mundane like thirst or hunger or something,” I said.
“I thought we’d already established that none of this was fair,” Mum said darkly as we pulled into Sarah’s street.
We were both quiet as the van rolled to a stop in Sarah’s familiar driveway.
“Sarah’s car’s gone,” I said, frowning at the empty driveway.
“Are you sure it was there?”
“Positive. I had to park on the street because it was blocking the driveway.”
Mum sighed and unbuckled herself.
“Are you ready for this?” she asked, looking at me with concern.
“No,” I said honestly. “But we need to do it.”
Mum pressed her lips together and nodded.
I grabbed the tarps and stretcher out of the back of the van and slowly walked towards the house. It was such a nice day, blue sky, sun shining. Birds were singing away in the trees and bushes. It was too nice to be doing what we were doing.
The lawn was overgrown, and the pots sitting under the front verandah were brown and dead. I cursed myself. I should have moved the poor plants out to the lawn. Too late now.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mum said, and I realised I must have said it out loud.
We both froze once we could see the door properly. It had been smashed in. I glanced at Mum, alarmed. Mum frowned at the wreck of the door. Slowly, she pushed it open.
“Hello?” she called out. We both stood still, listening. Nothing. Just some lorikeets squabbling over something in the tree in the front yard. I glanced at Mum and she nodded at me. Cautiously we entered the house, pausing to listen again at the end of the hallway. Still nothing.
I stared around the living room, aghast. The couch cushions were all upended, books were off their shelves, the contents of any drawers or boxes were piled on the floor.
“Did you do this?” Mum gasped, taking in the chaotic mess.
I shook my head. “No. No, it wasn’t like this when I left.”
“Someone’s broken in.” I almost snapped at her for stating the obvious, but swallowed my words when I remembered why we were here.
I stepped carefully over the piles of Sarah and Chris’ belongings and went into the kitchen.
“Most of the food’s been taken,” I said, opening the now bare pantry. Whoever broke in didn’t seem to like flax seeds though. They were the only thing left.
“The money stash is gone too,” Mum said, peering into a jar labeled ‘Salt’.
“I didn’t know she had a money stash.” I frowned at the jar, wondering what else I didn’t know about my sister and now woul
d never know.
“Mmm.” Mum put the jar back on the mantle shelf. “She usually kept a few hundred in here.”
“What would anyone need money for now?” I asked, surprised. I understood taking food, but it wasn’t like any of the shops were open for business… or maybe they were and we just didn’t know about it.
Mum held her hands out. “I don’t know, Alice. I don’t know.” She paused and I realised we were both stalling. “Well, shall we do this?” Mum straighten herself up to her full height. I nodded, feeling slightly sick.
“Where are they? In their room?”
I nodded. A part of me had been trying to ignore the faint stench of decay that had been apparent as soon as we entered the house. My legs didn’t seem to want to work properly as I trailed after Mum down the hallway towards the back of the house. I dragged the stretcher and tarps behind me, nearly tripping a few times. I pulled my scarf up to cover my nose.
Mum paused, steeling herself, and then pushed open the bedroom door. She stood frozen in front of me. I peered over her shoulder. Anger bubbled up in me. Not even their dead presence had saved the room from being ransacked. Mum still hadn’t moved. I didn’t want to look too closely at my sister’s decomposing face, but Mum couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.
After a minute I gently touched Mum’s back. “Come on, Mum.”
Mum jumped. I think she’d forgotten I was even there. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Right. Right, let’s do this.”
They were exactly where I’d left them. At least the burglars hadn’t disturbed their bodies. Small mercies.
We wrapped them both up in some tarp and took them one at a time with the stretcher.
Once they were both in, Mum took a final walk around Sarah’s home. I stayed outside, sitting on the kerb, listening to the birds squawking away. After half an hour, she seemed ready to leave. She’d gathered up a few things I’d overlooked, and stashed them in the van.
