by West, Mark
‘Spit it out boy,’ Robbie grunts. ‘We don’t have all day.’
William glances over at the pair of girls sitting against the opposite wall, huddled together with a grey blanket draped across their legs. The barn is warm, and William suspects it’s being used more for comfort than anything else. They seem just as scared as him and haven’t spoken since he arrived.
‘I … I guess,’ William answers and pulls his legs into his bony chest.
Robbie scoffs and turns away.
The men continue their bickering. William looks back towards the girls. They seem older than him, perhaps late teens, and he wonders what their story is and how they have managed to survive this long. Both girls are rake thin and covered in grime. They seem weak, desperate.
One of the girls looks up. Her eyes are blue, reminding him of the sky, her hair sandy blonde. She smiles at William, causing his cheeks to burn. He turns away with embarrassment. The girl is cute – too cute for him.
‘This friend of yours.’ Gez’s voice is getting louder. ‘Where is he now? You never mentioned anything.’
‘Dead,’ Robbie responds bluntly. ‘They got him a few months back. Watched it myself. His body was torn apart like a sheet of paper.’
‘Brutal.’ Gez pulls at the skin on his arm. ‘Could do with a feed, now you mention it.’ He turns towards William. ‘Got any food, boy?’ William shakes his head. Gez huffs in disappointment. ‘Useless.’ He turns his attention towards the girls. ‘What about you, pretty little things? Got anything to eat under that blanket of yours?’
The pair shift awkwardly, pulling the blanket close to their skinny bodies. They shake their heads.
‘Nothing at all?’ Robbie chimes in. ‘Not even a scrap?’
‘Nothing,’ one of the girls says sternly.
‘Useless kids,’ Robbie says, and removes a hunting knife from his bag.
‘What are you taking that out for mate?’ Gez asks, peering down at the knife.
‘Just in case. Never know what little worm might poke its head into this barn.’ He smiles and William catches the sight of his yellow teeth. The men remind him of the crooks in Home Alone. He senses they are not to be trusted.
William has been on the run for the past year and has trusted no one – survival of the smartest, and so far he is the smartest. He intends to keep it that way.
Gez stands and begins to pace the room. His feet kick at the straw in frustration. ‘Been in here for hours. They must have left by now.’
He moves towards the set of double doors when one of the girls speaks out.
‘Don’t.’
He pauses and turns towards her.
‘And why not?’
‘It’s too soon.’
Her voice trembles slightly and she nervously pushes aside a strand of mousy brown hair. It’s clear both girls are uncomfortable with the presence of the men, but are more worried by the living dead outside. Shortly after William arrived, the Infected searched the area. They stalked about like wolves hunting prey. Everyone hid under mounds of straw. Looking between bundles, William could just make out the yellow eyes of an Infected poking its head through a gap in the timber cladding.
After the Infected left, they blocked the hole and barricaded the door. Now they were like mice in a barrel – the cat yet to find them.
‘The girl is right,’ Robbie barks. He grins. ‘I got a better idea.’ He turns towards the girls, winks and then stands, knife clutched in his hand.
Gez chuckles and moves towards Robbie. ‘What about the boy?’
Robbie contorts his mouth and sizes up William. ‘You won’t cause us any trouble, will you boy?’ His blade glints in the light shining through a hole in the thatched roof.
William feels his heart quicken as he tries to straighten up to deter them. They continue to approach. He stands, scanning around for a weapon – anything – but the barn is empty.
The girls remain silent as the men walk right past them, eyes locked on William as he shifts nervously towards the back wall.
His fingers run along the timber cross beam, feeling the rough edges of the splintering wood. ‘Stay back. You don’t want to do this.’ His earlier feelings of bravado start to dissolve.
Gez removes a pointed file from his belt. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve found someone as pretty as them, boy.’
The girls whimper, now terrified, prompting the men to snigger. It makes William sick with rage. If he had a gun, he could take them both down. But he has nothing.
Something bursts through the barn doors and tumbles along the concrete surface. Both men turn in fright. The girls clamber backwards, muffling a scream. William looks over to see a boulder the size of an esky lying in the middle of the room, broken cladding now littering the floor.
‘What the fuck?’ Robbie barks.
A figure approaches the opening. It’s enormous, twice the size of a normal man, and surrounded by blinding light pouring in from behind. It let’s out a guttural moan.
‘The hulk,’ William murmurs.
‘It’s one of them!’ Gez yells.
The girls try to stifle their screams. They are frozen to the spot. Robbie starts frantically scanning the room, searching for another exit. But they all know there is only one way out, and it’s blocked.
Seconds later, two Infected push past the hulking figure and enter the room. They move in slowly, scanning the room, teeth clenched, noses sniffing at the air.
The girls drop their blanket and run towards William, stopping by his side. The blue-eyed girl presses up against him and grabs his hand. Her hand feels cold, but nice. It’s the first human contact William has had for over a year.
The pair of men begin to back towards them, weapons poised. The first Infected, a woman, lunges for Robbie. He takes a quick step to his left and jabs her in the neck. She falls sidewards and hits the concrete with a lightning bolt crack.
The other Infected charges for Gez, and again is knocked off its feet. William is impressed. They may just get out of this. And then he remembers the hulk standing in the doorway. It hasn’t moved.
The men stab viciously into the Infected lying on the ground. When they are done, they turn towards the hulking shadow, panting, blood dripping from their weapons. The smell in the room is overpowering. In the distance, there is a faint howl. William recalls hearing that sound once before.
‘More are coming,’ he whispers to the girls. ‘We need to get out of here.’
He scans the room, desperate to find something he can use, and catches sight of a rope dangling from a hook.
William squeezes the girl’s hand. ‘I’ve got a plan. To my right the rope.’
The blue-eyed girl looks at the rope and then back at William.
The howling outside grows louder. They are getting closer. The two men take a step towards the silhouette in the doorway. It’s unclear what they are about to do, but William hopes they can buy him some time. He quickly pulls the girls towards the rope. Another Infected comes into the room, nose in the air, jaw jittering hungrily. Its shirt is torn, and it’s wearing a pair of black shorts exposing ravaged and rotting flesh. The stench is awful.
‘Kill the thing and let’s make a break for it!’ Robbie barks.
Gez nods. They approach carefully, the Infected watching them closely, like a frozen painting with moving eyes.
William catches the Infected’s eye and it’s in that moment he recognises the intelligence. They are not as stupid as they seem. It’s a trap.
The hulking silhouette moves away from the doorway and disappears, allowing three smaller silhouettes to take its place. They enter the room, bloodthirsty and just as frightening. Robbie charges forward in a battle cry, attacking the one to his left with his knife.
The sun behind the figures in the doorway is blinding, causing William to squint as he watches a second silhouette dive on the man. Gez yells and races in with a file in his hand, stabbing aggressively at the attackers.
William turns away in
horror. ‘Quick, we don’t have much time.’ He pulls the pair towards the nylon rope, snatches it from the hook and begins to unravel it, handing one end to the blue-eyed girl.
‘Here, take this.’
‘But ...’
‘Just do as I say,’ William barks, pushing it into her hand.
The girl takes the rope, reluctantly, as William peers over at the men. Four figures lay motionless on the floor; three crouch over them, arms flailing about and moaning – hungry.
William turns to the girls. ‘We need to hurry. I’m going to take this end of the rope and run to the other side of the room by that pile of hay.’ He points to a pile by the wall. ‘On my signal, I need you to run along this wall holding tightly to the rope. Got it?’
Both girls nod hesitantly.
‘Good.’ He gives them a pressing look. ‘Good luck.’
William, a boy of sixteen, average build, nothing special, grips the rope tightly and runs – hope his only ally.
Chapter 3
The Queenslander
I run my hand down my rifle. It’s an old .22 magnum. The barrel is a bit rusty and the timber stock has seen better days. I found it in someone’s garage a few months back. It’s like the one I lost back at the Block but is in worse condition. This one has a broader scope, and I find it’s great for inspecting things from afar. Just how I like it.
I pull a small box of hollow tips from my duffel bag and load the clip. It holds fifteen rounds. When I’m finished, I lock it back into place, rest the gun in front of my body on the edge of a flat stone and get comfortable.
In position, lying hidden within the foliage, I peer through the scope and look directly at a house about fifty metres away. I spotted it a few days ago when I was out searching for food. It’s an old weatherboard Queenslander, perhaps built in the eighties. It is raised on concrete pillars and has a tin roof. The underneath is boxed in and it has a set of worn timber stairs leading to a blue door on the upper level.
I run my eye along the low wire fence to the front yard. The gate is open, and in the driveway are two parked cars. One is a Honda Civic, the other a Ford F50. Both have had a hard life.
I noticed the vehicles had moved, when I was returning from a scavenging trip a couple of days ago – my first red flag. The second was the rubbish pile off to the side of the driveway. Instincts told me not to approach that day. So here I am, hidden in a bush, waiting to see if the people in the house can be trusted, while Victoria and baby Isabelle are holed up in a house in Surfers Paradise, about three kilometres away.
The house in Surfers Paradise is one of those Richie Rich houses, gated off from the outside world. The place is enormous – six bedrooms and three bathrooms – allowing freedom to move about safely. Isabelle can also scream her lungs out without anyone hearing. Surprised by the lack of Infected in the Gold Coast region, we stayed. I’m not sure if most of them moved on, or trapped themselves in their huge mansions. Either way, it is working well for us while we figure out our next move.
I continue to scan the yard, using the scope to peer into the three windows at the front for any signs of movement. The place seems deserted, and if it weren’t for the cars, I would have ignored the pile of rubbish. Fuel is rare these days. I can’t recall how many empty tanks I have checked. And with the fuel I do find, it’s a fifty-fifty chance on whether it has turned or not.
I stuff my hand into my bag and pull out a muesli bar. It feels stale, but I open it anyway and bite into the Uncle Tobys snack. Now infected, I’m always hungry. It feels like my stomach is eating itself away. Therefore, I eat constantly. It’s the only thing stopping me from going insane.
The more vigorously I chew, the more the sweet berries tickle my tongue with delight. It’s just one of the many treats I have discovered in my scavenging. Back when we were at the Block, we found mostly tinned food, nothing special like chocolate or sweets in that area. Here in the city, every second house has something non-nutritional. It’s a bit of a catch-22: half of my brain lights up when it sees the chance of a sugar rush, but the rational half frowns and tells me to search for something more sustaining like veggies or pasta.
I have had some luck in obtaining veggies in gardens, but most of the crops are dead. The best I find is the odd carrot or potato buried deep in the weed-infested soil. I guess it’s better than nothing. Most of the supermarkets have been stripped bare. I laugh when I spot bottle shops and think back to when Rohan and Doug found the Jack Daniels in Cooma. How happy they were; how happy we all were. These days I stay clear of drinking. I still drink occasionally, but it’s better to have a clear head than to wake having someone chewing on your leg.
I stuff the empty wrapper in my pocket and go back to waiting. Birds squabble above me, and I peer up to spot a pair of magpies dancing in the branches. Their black and white coats shimmer brilliantly in the morning sun. I miss the days when I could just lie out on the lawn and watch the world go by. Perhaps one day.
I continue to watch for another hour. My eyes are stinging, and they begin to close ever so slowly with the boredom. Last night was hell. Isabelle woke every hour. Victoria attended to her mostly, however it’s hard to shut off with a screaming child next to you. Sleep training is a bitch.
Suddenly there is movement inside and the front door opens. My eyes jerk wide open when someone steps out – a male. He is tall, skinny and unwashed – junkie looking. He’s wearing long sleeves and cargo shorts. His hair hangs over his shoulders in tangles, and it’s clear he hasn’t showered in weeks. His goatee reminds me of an old window washer I knew in Braddon.
The man turns and calls back inside. I can’t make out what he says, but a minute later a woman, just as tall and skinny, comes out holding a shotgun. My body tenses. He says something to her again then pulls out a pair of binoculars from a box on the porch. He places them to his eyes and begins to scan his surrounding, including the park I’m hiding in across the road. I hold my breath and pray he doesn’t spot me.
A minute later he slips them back and the pair descend the stairs. I track their movements and watch as they open the rear door to the Ford. The woman removes a bag from the back and hands it to the man. It’s black and bulky. I wonder what’s inside.
Something scuffs the dirt just behind me. A second later, I get that strange tingle along my skin – Infected. I don’t move and continue to hold my rifle pointing at the pair by the truck. My breath is low, and I ensure every part of my body is immobile within the thick bush. The tingling increases, and I can hear more feet scraping dirt.
An Infected groans. The next second a foot lands just metres to my left and then another to my right. Before long, five Infected slowly creep past. It’s clear they have spotted the pair by the truck, perhaps after scouting them out. I’m amazed at how systematically they work together – like wolves in a pack.
As I watch the Infected move in, I contemplate warning the pair but decide to stay quiet. I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention my way. It’s selfish, but in a dog-eat-dog world, sometimes you need to be a prick.
Three Infected approach the front fence, moving low, almost on all fours, as if reverting to a primal state. The pair by the truck are talking and take no notice. The other two Infected split up and head either side of the house, entering the neighbouring properties. It’s as if they are planning to cut them off.
The three Infected creep up behind the Civic. The front one pauses and then does something that terrifies me. It signals to the one at the back, pointing to the fence. The Infected nods and moves away. The pair wait behind the Civic while the other Infected sits behind a bush by the fence. The whole scene is freaking the shit out of me. It’s tactical and smart. If the people run, it’s possible the Infected by the fence will catch them. Or if they head out back, who knows where the other two are hiding.
My finger lingers on the trigger as I hover my crosshair over the pair of Infected by the Civic, contemplating which one to shoot first. If I act fast, I can kill the duo an
d then move onto the one by the fence. I can save them.
Something scrapes behind me as I’m about to fire, and I stop and listen, tilting my head slightly to hear a low growl, perhaps only a metre away. There are more behind me.
I hold back from firing. I can’t give my position away. I’ll be dead in seconds.
A new noise draws my attention back to the pair of humans. The woman has noticed the Infected by the fence. She begins waving her gun while the man removes a crowbar from the back seat of the truck. They haven’t noticed the ones behind the Civic. They approach the Infected by the fence cautiously – it hasn’t moved. It acts as if it hasn’t noticed them coming, like a cat waiting to pounce. That’s when I realise I’m wrong about the whole situation.
It’s baiting them. It’s a trap!
More movement beside me tells me it’s not just one Infected watching the scene play out. I don’t dare move. My breathing is low, but my heart is in overdrive. I can feel my skin crawl with ants. I want to get up and run, but at this point I don’t have a safe exit route. I have no idea how many are around me.
The woman yells something incoherent and pulls the trigger. She clips the side of the Infected’s arm, causing pellets to ricochet off the fence. It’s a crap shot – panicked. I dread what is about to play out next.
The Infected displays its rage and begins awkwardly trying to climb the fence, drawing the humans in. The two Infecteds behind the Civic spring from cover and start to approach. The humans are yet to notice the ambush. The woman begins to reload as the man swings his crowbar, clocking the Infected in the side of its head, showering the grass in red and black. He begins to laugh, but only until he turns to see the others metres away. He screams.
One of the Infected lunges and grips the woman’s arm like a rabid dog, pulling her to the ground. The man tries to bat it off. The second Infected dives towards him, forcing him to leap back. Flesh is torn from the woman’s neck. Blood goes everywhere. She has dropped the gun. The man pauses, deciding whether to grab it as he swings dumbly at the Infected devouring her, screaming profanities.
