Apocalypse 2 Read online

  I headed to the rear of the store and figured I’d check out the warehouse area while I was there. The double doors were stuck half open due to the debris on the ground. Again it was another gulp hard moment before I headed through, not knowing what was back there. It was all quiet. Not as loaded with boxes as I’d hoped, but all quiet. There were the remains of another body sticking out of a pile of debris and boxes along a wall near the entrance. Elsewhere, boxes and shelving had been rearranged from tsunami waters and looting.

  I remember casting my mind back to what this place must have been like in the final hours before the comet. Total chaos – queues of people, supplies filtering in right up until the end, the army protecting food supplies and ensuring purchasers stayed within the buying limits. In the end it was a mess. The system did its best to cater for everyone, but the sheer scale of what was happening in the timeframe made it impossible. Panic was everywhere. The fact that so much product remained on the shelves when the end came just shows how wrong officials got it. To be fair, they were the most extreme circumstances, and it was never going to end with the last shopper buying the last can of soup, but seeing the store still with a reasonable amount of stock… and the bodies… it just brought it all back.

  Of course, it all worked out well for me… twice. I found out early, hoarded before most of the world found out what was happening. When they started fighting over food I was stocking up on other essential supplies. And now, the failing of the system in the final moments provides another gift – a chance to resupply long after most of those people would be dead. I feel guilty, in part. I always have. But I feel equally thankful.

  I worked my way through the stock in the warehouse. Again, there were signs of looting, but they were limited. The logistics of transporting stock and the location of this place make it not too surprising. Every kilogram a looter takes with them is a kilo more they weigh as they slog through the ash back to where they come from. The city is a long way from a habitable location, being well under the tsunami line. At least, it was. I’m hoping to change that.

  Anyways, I fished through the easy-to-access boxes and saw cereals, cans, juice, cup of soups, biscuits, chips – all sorts. Many of the boxes had stock already plundered. I filled up the last two bags with biscuits and chips for some relatively lightweight calories.

  Before I left, I checked out the loading bay doors and staff entrance that backed on to the laneway where Phoenix was parked. There was no way I was getting access to either, not without a mountain of work. The tsunami waters had forced most of the debris hard up against the back wall and it would require a lot of digging to make it happen. Certainly not a job for this day, but if I was going to be a regular visitor here, it would make a lot of sense to have a second exit, especially one so close to where I park the hovercraft.

  I took my goods and headed back through the front of the store. As I was nearing the self-service checkouts I saw the side staircase heading down to the lower ground level. Well, it was more a ramp of dried tsunami by-product than staircase these days. I decided to drop my bags at the top and head down to investigate. I shuffled my way to where the former staircase turned left for a second time. A doorway opened up to the lower ground floor, well, it wasn’t a doorway at all when I looked, just the top of the frame. The gap between the tsunami droppings and ceiling narrowed and I crawled in army style to reach the door. I started digging around the frame and after a few minutes I had enough clearance to get my head and torch through. I shined my light through and could see shelves and shelves of products.

  Jackpot! I could tell right away this was a jackpot. A water-logged jackpot, but a jackpot nonetheless. The tsunami dumping tapered away after the door and I could see the same thing over the other side of the floor where the ramp was. Sure, the ground in was damaged, but it was as if the volume of debris blocked further mess from coming in, like a cork. Between the two corked areas were shelves and shelves of products. Water had drained down through the ceiling, and much of the stock looked water damaged, but I couldn’t see any sign of human activity. Oh yeah, there was also a smell that trumped whatever was going on upstairs… but, who cares… jackpot baby!

  My heart started racing faster than when I was panicking on the way in. This place was gold! I had to get my head around it all. There was nothing I could do about it all today but, wow, I had to do something about it very soon. This find had officially become priority No.1 in my world. I remember my mind buzzing with all that entailed – it meant I had to get a place in the city ASAP. Maybe it didn’t have to be a permanent home, but a safe house for the food at the very least. With that came a bunch of other things on my to-do list. It was too overwhelming to contemplate. I just withdrew from the doorway, pushed the ash back over the gap and headed back to ground level.

  That’s when I saw him. Well, I saw the light from his torch first. I took my bags of loot and hid behind one of the checkout counters. He entered the same way I did. I stayed out of sight while his torch surveyed the space, presumably checking the coast was clear. The light of his torch flashed by my hiding place a couple of times, but I was safely out of sight. Eventually I heard his footsteps again, and when they sounded far enough away I peeked over the counter. It was almost impossible to get a good look at him. I was left with a silhouette shape cast out of the torch light, partly obscured by twisted shelving, but he was tall and thin. Older too, I guess. It’s always hard to be 100 per cent sure, but judging by his gait and mannerisms, maybe mid-30s.

  It’s amazing how much you can pick up from a moment and, with a few assumptions, I got plenty. Firstly, he scanned the room for a few seconds before going about his business, whereas I have been a paranoid freak for almost my entire time here. It tells me he’s done this before, many times, and I’m guessing he hasn’t seen anyone else. He feels confident and comfortable. So he’s a regular visitor and maybe the only one. Perhaps he’s the only person responsible for all the footprints I’ve seen in the city – that would be good news (but probably wishful thinking).

  I wouldn’t be surprised if he has set himself up in the city too. It makes sense to gravitate to where the supplies are. And, really, given it’s a fair hike from the non-tsunami affected areas, why leave the hidden goldmine?

  I know a lot of the remaining stock will be water damaged, but there’s still enough food here to keep one person going for a long, long time. The thing is, I’m not sure how keen he would be on sharing it.

  I watched him disappear into the warehouse area and waited a few seconds more before I made my move for the door, using only the small amount of light coming from the entrance to guide me, rather than my torch. I would’ve gotten away with it too, had my boots not caught a snag under the sludgy surface. I have no idea what it was, but it caught the toe of the boot and my forward momentum did the rest in a very loud and embarrassing way.

  Well played, mysterious stranger, well played.

  The fall took the wind out of me – my lungs screamed. I tried my best to recover my senses and my feet. I’d kept my grip on the food stocks, but the torch had fallen from my other hand. That left me in nearly complete darkness searching around for the torch. Meanwhile, I could hear my new friend heading back my way and I could see his torch light dancing towards the warehouse doors again.

  He was through before I knew it, searching his light around the supermarket for the source of the noise. “Who’s there?” he yelled out. He sounded, well, like a bit of a bogan. There was just something in his accent and the way he delivered his words that screamed loves doing up cars, getting tatts and listening to 1980s Aussie rock.

  I stayed as low as I could, hoping the shelving and undulating ash surface would keep me out of his sights, meanwhile I continued to fish around for my torch. I think I found it at the same moment bogan man spotted me. “Oii!” he yelled as he flashed the torch in my face and headed my way.

  The only thing I could think of to do was return the favour. I shined my torch on him as I started inchin
g towards the exit. The Mexican standoff left us both blind to each other. There was a short conversation that went something like this.

  “Who the hell are you?” he said, in aggressive bogan.

  “Who are you?” was the only response I could think of.

  “Piss off,” he said. “This spot is mine – you got that?”

  “Just looking for something to eat,” I replied. “I’ve got no trouble with you.”

  “I think you do, mate. Come back here again and you’re dead. I’ll cut you up and hang you over the doorway.”

  I had backed away to the start of the entrance by that point and he’d stopped advancing. I mulled over my next move. I had enough distance to turn and do a runner but I didn’t want to end on that note. I needed to get some of my mysterious stranger cred back… and to make sure I wasn’t followed back to Phoenix. I swapped the torch to the hand carrying the food, then reached over my shoulder and removed the crossbow.

  It wasn’t the suavest move, but it did give me some power in the conversation. I studied him for a few seconds as I continued to back up, knowing the only thing that could trump me was a gun, but the threat he made was to ‘cut me up’, implying he had a knife. He made no move for a gun once the crossbow was on him, either.

  Before I knew it I’d reached the exit. We studied each other in silence for a few seconds across the mangle of shelves, tsunami debris and food scraps, before I said something like, “I think there’s enough to go around.” Then I backed my way down the entry corridor to the mall. He didn’t follow, he didn’t move, he just stood and watched me leave.

  When I hit what passed for daylight these days, I turned as nonchalantly as I could and disappeared the two steps out of his sight. Then I bolted as fast as the adrenalin and the ash boots would allow. I remember my heart galloping so fast it nearly made me sick. I doubted he would follow, but if he did I needed time to shoot up the alley around the corner, start the hovercraft then hit the street before he potentially reached the same point.

  I made good pace, held on to everything that needed holding onto until I made it to Phoenix, then ripped the tarp off and shoved it into the cabin, along with the torch and supplies, in one smooth move. I was out of the alleyway like a pro. I turned right at the end, headed back to North Tce, but glanced left with aimed crossbow in hand, looking for the grumpy bogan man (currently my closest friend in the world) – there was no sign of him.

  As soon as I hit North Tce a few seconds later, I knew I’d done it – I was in the clear! I think I yelled out “Boom!” or something like that, trying to sound far more gangsta than I really am. Then I laughed. That was pretty close… and if it wasn’t for a bit of luck (a few minutes either way), it could’ve ended in a far different way. But that didn’t matter now I was free, had scoped out a new place and made a new friend. Life was good… and the day was just getting started.

  *

  So, my hasty exit from Woolworths meant I had to give the Coles store in the mall a miss – it was just far too risky in the circumstances. There’d be plenty of time to explore that later, I figured. I was also the opposite side of the mall to where I wanted to be, so I turned on King William then headed up a number of blocks in the direction of the CBD’s centre - Victoria Square. I’m starting to get this obsession with street names – maybe it’s all the spare thinking time on my hands. They came past in pairs – Rundle and Hindley, Grenfell and Currie, Pirie and Waymouth and so on. All separated by King William St running up the middle. At least I knew this street name rule. My dad had told me the names of the other streets had to change when they hit King William, because nobody crosses the king.

  I’m still not sure if I believe it or not… actually, it does sound like a very pre-rock Adelaide concept. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. If there was a king of the city now it was me, riding Phoenix down the main strip, staring at the ghosts of buildings past and amazing at the few that survived intact – cross me at your peril, life!

  I found myself in one of those moments where I could distance myself from the dangers and duties I faced and take in the world for all its broken beauty. It really was an unworldly experience, floating on the remains of the city, in probably the only vehicle within 1000km… just floating. When Victoria Square was in nearing, the conditions changed. It looked like the entire city block near Waymouth St had come crashing down. The result had deposited a mound of rubble about three storeys high across the width of the street – a foolhardy act rubble, daring to cross both kings of this city!

  I ended up scrapping my plans to go through Victoria Square, instead zig-zagging south and east through the streets until I ended up at the IGA on Hutt St. This turned out to be a bust as there was no sign of the shop anywhere. In fact, most of the block had been wiped from the earth altogether. I jumped out and sifted through the ash where I believed the store had stood, but, well, there was nothing – I didn’t even know if I was digging in the right spot!

  Five minutes was enough time to waste – the bar had already been set high on expectations and I had plenty of other spots to pick. I jumped back on Phoenix and headed south and west this time, towards another IGA on Gilbert St. This one had the opposite problem of the last – rubble and debris were strewn across the entire facade of the store, the only clue as to the shop’s identity was a hint of the ‘A’ in the IGA sign peeking out above the mess.

  Once again, it was looking like a job too time-consuming for today’s circumstances, but this place had promise, no question. I put an asterisk on it in my mind and headed towards the Central Markets.

  The markets presented their own set of problems. Parts of the building had pretty much imploded in the tsunami, mostly along Gouger St. I did a lap of the site, which took up an entire city block. As untrustworthy as some parts of the structure looked, there was still plenty of hope I would be able to gain some access, both to the Coles, the greater market floor (where it would be safer closer to Grote St) and even some of the Asian grocers. I mean, that all seemed worth a risk down the track – there were stalls in there that just sold cheese or smallgoods! Cheese, salami, just sitting in there somewhere – it brought a tear to my eye.

  I pulled back away from the building, far enough to take in the entire site. I just watched for a while. I knew I would be back at some point, the potential was too good to ignore. But, for now, I had to let it go. I had far better, and safer, options, well, apart from the crazy bogan guy.

  Before I headed for phase two of my city visit, I considered the first part a massive success – one big find, a potential hidden gem in the IGA on Gilbert St and some distant longer-term hope the markets might have a few secrets for a rainy day. And there was still the other Coles in the mall, which I didn’t even get to, due to circumstances beyond my control (running for my life).

  Phase 1: tick.

  *

  I chowed down on some chips and chocolate for lunch (because that’s how the king rolls) then set out to find my new home. It was a really frustrating few hours. I started in the west end, where there were a few townhouses and cottages spotted through the laneways, then worked my way to South Tce, where it become more residential, before tracking east to beyond Hutt St, then back north in and along East Tce. As far as I could see there was nowhere even close to fulfilling my Phoenix security needs – certainly not in the short term. The height of the ash meant most property’s high fencing now sat at waist height, making peeking into a private backyard easy for any walker-by. Everything was far too small to have two exit points for the hovercraft, making parking a huge gamble. And the housing density meant that, even if I should find a property worth living in, it would be within a couple of metres of the footpath – no separation of a decent sized front yard to give that added layer of security I needed.

  And that was with the properties that were actually still standing. There were just way too many question marks for my liking. Even when I hit some of the mansions on East Tce, the vibe wasn’t right. Sure, they had the
space, but they were too open and exposed, especially with the parklands right across the road. That was a real deal-breaker as far as I was concerned. Anyone coming into the city would surely come from the east, and to have my base in the first line of buildings facing that direction was too big of a gamble to take.

  I took another break for food and water, my mood a long way back from the joy of lunchtime. It had taken me hours to get to this point… and I was nowhere closer to finding that perfect spot… or even that perfect-for-now spot. I remember ticking through possibilities in my mind, each probably a little more desperate than the last, but throughout it all, one place kept calling out to me – the Adelaide Oval. Maybe it was the light shining through the clouds on my first visit, or the vastness of the complex and the amount of escape routes it offered. Maybe it was something bigger than me needing a place for a moment…. I don’t know, I just felt compelled to head that way once more and look at it again through the eyes of a potential home.

  I mean, I knew it was totally crazy. It’s not a home, it’s a stadium – a 55,000-seat arena! That’s some serious overkill. But maybe in this world, where normal (and most of the population) has checked out a long time ago, and where I am king, well, maybe it could be exactly the right move.

  So that’s where I headed, via the street named after the former Adelaide king (well, England king), past Parliament House, over the bridge, then onto the stadium. Of course, King William St decided to become King William Rd after it passed North Tce. Adelaide streets! So, you can’t cross the king, but he can cross you, change his identity and we all pretend everything is normal! Wow.