Apocalypse Diary of a Survivor [Book 3] Read online

  For now though, we know it’s something that’s coming, we’re trying to do what we can to delay the problem and, as things get closer, we can start to experiment with longer-term solutions.

  Anyway, it’s funny how life works post-rock. Nothing’s ever simple. Even the win we’ve had with the cars comes tainted with the challenge of the lifespan of fuel. Still, we’re resourceful. If there’s a way, we’ll find it.

  *

  There’ll be a way.

  ***

  January 28, 2015

  I thought my body would be starting to return to normal this morning, but I’m still in dull-ache-everywhere mode. I have long given up on the idea of getting some magical assistance to get through this, so I’m just going to have to suck it up. It was nice to dream, though.

  I’m at a bit of a loose end as to what to do today. With two big wins recently, I guess I’m just feeling a little flat this morning. I mean, I already know whatever today brings... or tomorrow... will struggle to reach the heights of recent achievements. Again, I’ll have to suck it up. And really, is this just my first post-rock first world problems moment? I think it might be.

  I do know I’ll be heading back to the East Tce/North Tce lookout at some point today. It’s just been in my head too much not to revisit the scene. Will I get any more answers? I don’t know. But I do know I feel compelled to go back there for my own sake. I need to know we looked at absolutely everything.

  That aside, we’ll see what the day brings.

  *

  It didn’t take much to have another reason to head back to the lookout today. Shane has come up with a light rig and trigger idea that he wants to set up. He wants to scout the area to take measurements and make sure what he’s thinking can work practically.

  So, after breakfast and meeting, we headed down there. It was just Shane and I, which was really cool as we really don’t spend that much one-on-one time together these days. He spends his days cooking up all sorts of electrical solutions around the oval. Seriously, I think he’s obsessed. Even if that’s the case, it’s one of the most valuable obsessions in the compound – electricity brings so much to all of us. Besides, I get it – the obsession, that is. That’s exactly how I am when I get an idea into my head. Maybe that’s why we worked so well together when it was just the two of us and this place. We were long-time lone survivors after all. That takes (or maybe builds) a certain type of character, and I guess obsession is just a part of that.

  When he’s not enlightening us all with his obsession, he spends most of his time with Steph. Good on him, I say. She’s great and those two seem perfect together. It’s hard to explain the bond of a post-rock relationship, other than to say it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The bonds you share are life and death strong, and that makes couples stick like glue when it works.

  So, while I’m super pleased for him, it does make me a little envious sometimes. Not of Steph exactly, although she’s got a lot going for her. It’s more about the fact he has that connection in this world. I try not to live in that space too much, because all roads lead back to Fi and what I’m really missing there. But, that aside, it’s great to see him satisfied on just about every level you’d want to be in this world. And it’s nice to know that all of that began from a connection with some posh teenager with a hovercraft and a stupidly ambitious plan to make the Adelaide Oval a home base.

  When we do catch up, we both share that knowledge. We don’t mention it often, but there’s something about how we talk to each other now. It’s a nod or a smile or a look that means we’ve been to the top of the mountain together, whatever happens.

  His arm is pretty much back to normal from an operational point of view these days. His ear, well, it still works apparently, but it’s not much to look at. Still, it’s a war wound and it was well earned. We’ve all got them in one way or another. And getting shot twice saving the oval is a badge of honour no one around here will ever forget.

  So, we hit the corner of the terraces and Shane was soon going about his work. I started retracing yesterday’s steps, hoping to find something different. When that didn’t happen, I tried every random, unlikely spot we didn’t cover.

  I don’t know what I was doing really, just hoping.

  After 45 minutes of unfulfilled hope, I headed back, defeated.

  Shane had all the measurements he needed. He was all excited about it, too. Most of the details went over my head, but the general gist was, if anyone stepped into the space at that intersection, on our side of the wall, the sensor would detect their movements and light the place up like a Christmas tree.

  The lookout would remain in the dark, giving us all the power. That would leave our person with the choice to either communicate, hide or open fire, depending on the enemy numbers etc. Sounded like a good enough plan to me.

  Once done, we decided to go to the lookout and visit Trav. The Botanic Hotel had remained somewhat intact, given the tsunami waters that had rolled through. It was three storeys high, although Shane insisted there used to be a small tower on a fourth level. When it comes to pubs and Shane, I tend not to argue.

  It was really dark inside. There were a few candles marking the way to and up the staircase, but aside from that it was really dank and claustrophobic. Actually, by the time we made it to where Trev was keeping watch on the third floor, well, it was a bit depressing to think about what it must be like doing that four days on, four days off. No one to keep you company, except the two-way radio, and nothing to do but stare at the sameness of ash stretching out to the east as far as the eye can see.

  I definitely thanked my lucky stars I got to spend my time on Phoenix and not holed up in a place like this. But, then again, I thought to myself, Trav and the others must be thanking their lucky stars they’re doing this here and not where they were.

  Anyway, he was pleased for the company... very. He offered us some snacks – we declined. Then we just sat and listened to his stories about life on the watch. There wasn’t much to tell, to be honest. And the biggest moment of action around the Botanic happened two nights ago when we were all back at base. But Shane and I listened all the same.

  That’s when we heard the distant sound of an engine – very faint, barely audible. It came and went on the breeze. At first we passed a few comments around, like Jonesy was showing off with Thunderbird 1, but Shane wasn’t buying it. He was saying it wasn’t the sound any car he knows makes. It was bigger, he reckoned, far bigger. Again, you sometimes have to submit to bogan knowledge... and engines were bogan knowledge-base central.

  He shushed us and held his finger up to tell us to remain completely silent. He put his head out of one of the window frames and analysed the sound for a while. Trev and I somewhat followed behind him, pretended we were keeping up with his mental train of thought, then exchanged confused glances. Then Shane bolted for the stairwell and headed down and outside.

  Trev and I did what must have been a stupid looking double take, looked at each other, then followed. By the time we got down to street level, Shane had nearly climbed to the top of the wall. Again, we followed after him like two lost lambs.

  By the time we’d caught up, he’d mounted the ridge and was angling his head in all sorts of weird directions.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  He told me to shut up... with some extra expletive decoration in the middle of those two words.

  So, I did. Trevor was no chance of speaking at that point... that was an out-of-reach conversation for a newb.

  Anyway, after way too much awkward silence... then a bit more... Shane made his declaration. “It’s coming from Norwood.”

  I mean, I kind of knew it. I knew Shane was acting weird for a reason. And I sensed something... but I had gotten too wrapped up in Shane’s actions to truly think for myself until he said it. And when he did, my heart sank... because I knew he was right.

  *

  Again the game has changed. For the second time in as many days it has not
been us in control. It’s one thing for the Norwood hubbers to invade our lands, for reasons unknown. It’s another thing to know they are levelling up in their tech as well. And if you connect those two things together, which, in this world, you always have to be doing, then there is a lot of potential for bad outcomes.

  It’s just a couple of loosely strung together unknowns at this stage. But in this world, you ignore those links at your own risk. We are in no position to ignore them.

  From the moment I knew of the intrusion, I couldn’t let my thoughts settle on anything else. Now, with this on top, well, it’s going to make me obsess until I have some answers.

  We were soon back at camp and had the key players gathered to talk about what we heard and what we should do about it. In the end, there was only one real decision that made sense from there – we had to take the game to them.

  Shane, Ye-jun, Kelly and myself are heading over the wall, across to the parklands and into enemy territory under the cover of dark.

  We think our best bet is to head out pre-dawn. We’re going to avoid heading up Rundle St as we think there may potentially be enemy lookouts posted there. So, we’ll find a way to sneak as close as we can to The Parade. Then camp down and see what we can see.

  After the team of four was decided and agreed upon, we sketched out our plan of attack. The easiest way to discretely leave the parklands is via the Botanic Gardens. It’s north of where any eyes would most likely be on us and there is almost zero exposure to crossing actual parklands. It’s essentially no-man’s land between the two groups’ boundaries at the moment. We really don’t want to be spending any more time there than we have to.

  The only problem with that plan is it leaves us on the wrong side of The Parade. The ideal approach to their home base, well, at least their home base last time I was there, was to move in from the south. It gave us the best viewing spots over the hub. And that meant coming in from the south side, which also meant a more exposed crossing of no-man’s land. Either that or the safe route out, but having to cross The Parade at some point within enemy territory – no thanks! So, we figured, the lesser of two risks was heading south and crossing through the parklands between Bartels Rd and Wakefield Rd, ideally working our way up to near the Britannia roundabout, then criss-crossing our way back through the side streets to the south side of The Parade from there.

  That sounds daunting just writing it.

  There are still a whole lot of unknowns with our plan. To start with, we have absolutely no idea what the gunfire battle was that ended a few days ago. If we assume Norwood was involved at some level, or even if they weren’t and have just heard the battle as we did, they’d be on higher alert either way.

  Their numbers are a complete unknown, too – apart from knowing it’s significantly more than we have, or certainly used to be. That opens up their options to post lookouts and defences around their grounds in ways we can’t imagine here. But, as to what that looks like, and where they know, or consider, their threats are coming from, well, again, unknown.

  Really, when I think about the sounds of battle recently, had Norwood been involved, they would not have breeched our lines so soon afterwards unless they’d had a significant win. Maybe they’re stronger again. And now with some sort of operating, well, we assume vehicle, but something. When I think about the potential upgrading they’ve had on all fronts, it’s a major worry.

  Anyway, I think I’m rambling again as all these thoughts and possibilities overlap and just blurt out onto the page. I might just leave it there and say we’re setting out this evening. We’ve got a lookout spot out by Wakefield St and we’re going to get some sleep there tonight before heading out on foot about 90 minutes before dawn. That should give us plenty of time to find a place to spy on Norwood before morning’s light.

  ***

  January 29, 2015

  We hovered up to our night digs well after dusk. Shane had swiped a bottle of rum for morale and no one was arguing with that plan. The lookout space was pretty cramped for four of us. We tried to keep the lighting conditions to just one candle, well away from the window. All up, it was hardly five-star accom. At least the space was fairly clean, I guess.

  We laid out the bedding gear we’d taken with us and passed the time sharing rum and talking about anything but the mission at hand. We didn’t plan it that way, but clearly everyone was in the same boat, wanting to place our thoughts elsewhere.

  Shane did well to keep his voice down; he usually goes super Shane after a couple of drinks. We were all in the zone, I guess – trying not to think about it – mentally preparing but definitely not talking about it.

  I was exhausted and was the first to retire. I can’t say I got any really meaningful sleep, though. It was a combination of an unfamiliar environment, too many people around and not putting thoughts of tomorrow out of my head that doomed anything resembling eight hours’ shut-eye.

  When I finally decided to pull the pin on attempting sleep, it was still well before dawn. I headed outside just to get a feel for the mission. Thankfully, there was a nice little breeze, enough to kick up a bit of ash and lower visibility. I knew it would also do its part in limiting any sounds we made, in terms of how far they’d travel.

  I double checked all the gear I had packed, then gave my ash boots a clean.

  Funny things, those ash boots. They took my mind back to the early days with the Trinity Gardens crew. I still remember marching on Norwood for the first time, all of us in single file down Portrush Rd, cutting a channel through the ash, with Mia and Craig towering over us in their ash boots. That moment was an eye-opener for me. It was one clear moment that showed how a bit of ingenuity could change everything. I made my own pair of ash boots the next chance I got. But it wasn’t the boots and that one example I got from Mia and Craig. It was the general principal of how staying ahead of the pack, in thinking and execution, can make all the difference in a world where the little differences matter.

  Phoenix came from that mindset. In a way, the oval did too. I had so much to be grateful for with that lesson, and it all started with those ash boots.

  I was lost in thought when Shane slapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was OK.

  Typical Shane style, nothing subtle about the slap! Youch.

  Anyway, I nodded, then told him about the ash boots and my thought process all the way to it somewhat inspiring the oval move.

  He slapped me on the shoulder again (and in the same spot!).

  “Another big day at the end of the world today,” he said.

  I just nodded. He was right.

  It wasn’t long before the others were up and we were on our way. We headed along the parklands between Bartels and Wakefield roads. The ash... I had really forgotten what it was like. I mean, I still see it every day, but I don’t have to endure lugging through it in my world. Just taking those first few steps and realising what I’d have to face again for the first time on foot... for over 2km each way, well, it was a daunting thought. It really hit me how far we’d come as a group.

  There was hard work ahead.

  Shane had sorted us some glow lights to see by, thanks to Jonesy. They were half covered in gaffer tape so the direction of the light would point to the ground to show us the way... pretty cool. We aimed them low so they’d light up the immediate ground around us. After we’d first climbed the wall, Shane ran ahead to see how far we were visible from – about 30m if we kept the stick light on the ash. Looking out from the glow stick bubble we could see perhaps 15m in each direction. That left a worrying little distance, where we could potentially be seen before we had eyes on whoever it was.

  But, it was far better than using torches and lighting up our presence for who knew how far... and it was the best we were going to get.

  The ash had also changed since I last had to tackle it first-hand. It didn’t give underfoot as I remembered it doing in the past. It was almost as if the bottom layers had settled together through no-man’s land. Maybe it
had set into a harder layer underneath or something. So, while the top area was loose and your feet did push through the surface, it certainly wasn’t down to your knees like the early days.

  It was even hard to tell if my ash boots gave me any advantage over the others, who had normal footwear. I think it was still there to a small degree, but certainly not the game-changer it used to be. I kept them on regardless. Maybe that was partly through pride, and nostalgia... but I also know, that

  you never know what lies ahead of you... or underneath in this world. So, wear them I did.

  The wind would reduce the visibility to not much more than 100m when daylight hit as well, if our past experience of conditions like this was anything to go by. That was quite handy for reducing the risk of someone discovering our tracks across no-man’s land when the morning sun exposed them. I made sure I walked last to try to shuffle and obscure the footprints ahead of me as I went. Every little bit counts – and, hopefully, between that and the wind/airborne ash, we’d not be giving too many breadcrumbs of our presence to the enemy.

  We had decided the best path was to cross Dequetteville Tce – the boundary of no-man’s land on their side – halfway between Bartels Rd and Wakefield Rd. If they did have centuries manning the border overnight, those two points seemed the most likely beyond Rundle St.

  They were a nervous last few metres. Between the last of the remaining trees in the parklands and the first of the rubble in the remains of Kent Town, we were utterly exposed. We had no idea where anyone could potentially be if they were on lookout. So, we just stayed quiet and moved slow and in single file... and prayed to whatever was worth still praying to these days.

  When we reached the first of the rubble cover on the other side, we stopped to collect ourselves and plan the next moves. I was completely out of breath. It wasn’t from the 500m walk though ash, it was from the sheer panic of the last 25m.