The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown Page 14

  “I didn’t even know the phones were working again.”

  “Luck,” Mac said. “Give it five minutes. How are the kids?”

  She pulled away from the phone and coughed. “They’re fine. Watching a movie on the television.”

  “You okay?”

  She coughed again. “No, love. I’m really not feeling that well.”

  An uneasy feeling washed over Mac. “Sit down, Mum. Get off your feet. You’re probably run down. You’ve been looking after Dad for days. I’ll be there to pick up the kids in an hour or so.”

  He hung up from his mother, walked across the waiting room to the front entrance, and pulled the blinds aside. The grass around the hospital building glistened with rain, the concrete paths a darker color. The infected wandered about the gardens and parking lot, and even beyond, on the main street. They were more in number than when Mac had arrived, despite the bodies he had slayed lying in various positions across the entrance. The man he had tried to save from the car accident was gone. Lying in his place on the asphalt was a bloody stain. Mac wondered whether they had eaten him all up or they’d left him to turn into one of their own. Parked in the far left corner of the small emergency room lot was his four-wheel drive, and it was a mess. One of the doors hung open, and nearly all the windows were smashed. The front tire was flat. It wasn’t going anywhere. He let the curtain fall and turned away, considering his options.

  A voice said, “You’re not planning on trying to drive that thing?” It was Bill, one of the men who had opened the entrance doors for him.

  “No,” Mac said, scratching the top of his head. “Though it does pose a problem for me. You don’t happen to have a spare car, do you?”

  Bill grunted. “No, sorry. I got a bike, but from the sound of your conversation earlier, that won’t help.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Mac said.

  He returned to where Jessica lay. Juliet had a cold washcloth over Jessica’s forehead. Juliet was a pretty woman with short blonde hair cut evenly above her shoulders. He estimated she was slightly younger than him, though the dark bags under her eyes didn’t help.

  “How is she?”

  “Her temperature is steady. We’ve given her stronger pain relief and another dose of Ibuprofen. She was overdue based on the timing of your last dose.”

  “Will that help?”

  “It will make her feel a little better. Sometimes these things are just a matter of running their course—letting the body fight the virus naturally.”

  “Thank you. I have to leave. Our kids are staying with my mother, and my father is sick. Can she stay here for now?”

  “I wouldn’t advise you to take her anywhere. We’ll monitor her fever and keep the fluids up.” She glanced around the room, palms out. “As much as it’s not the most professional setting at the moment, we can still take care of her.”

  “Thank you. We’re very grateful.” Mac smiled. Juliet stood up and reached into the pocket of her uniform. She removed her hand and held out a set of keys. Mac stared at them. He thought he knew, but he asked anyway. “What are they for?” Juliet jingled them. She was offering to let him use her car. “You know there’s a risk …”

  “I know how capable you are. Besides, when will you be back?”

  Mac glanced at Jessica. “In the morning.”

  “Perfect.” He opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it. She knew there was no guarantee. “It’s only a little Suzuki, but it’s zippy and has fuel.”

  Mac took the keys and slipped them into his pocket. “Number plate?”

  “TTR-334.”

  “Thank you. Really.” The edges of her mouth curved up and her cheekbones became pronounced. Mac thought it was as beautiful a smile as he’d ever seen. “Can you do me one more favor?” The smile folded and she raised her eyebrows. “Look after my wife until I get back.”

  “I promise. Now, take the fire stairs to LG2. It’s red and sitting about twenty feet from the door on the right.”

  “You get any shut-eye?”

  She managed a thin smile. “You sound like Seth.”

  “You’re no good to anyone, collapsing with exhaustion.”

  She took in a deep breath, and then let it out. “You’re right. I should probably close my eyes for a little while.” Somebody from another group called out her name. She smiled at him. Mac smiled back. Pretty woman. “Soon.” Then she turned away and attended the call.

  Jessica stirred. Mac knelt beside her. She tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t come out. She cleared her throat, and in a whisper, said, “Please be careful.”

  “You heard?” Jessica nodded. He leant forward and kissed her on the forehead beside the cloth. “Do you feel any better?”

  “I don’t feel any worse,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “My throat still hurts and I feel weak—weaker than when I had Tyler and lost all that blood.” He kissed her on the cheek and she curled her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “Don’t go doing anything stupid on me, Mac.”

  Mac pulled back. “I won’t. I’m going to get Smitty, first, then we’ll go to Mom’s and get the kids. I’ll be back for you in the morning.” He didn’t want to think about how he was going to manage that. He took her hand and stood, reluctant to let it go. “Get some rest.” He bent again and kissed her on the lips, lingering, and though he knew it might put him at greater risk of catching whatever she had, he was willing to take that risk.

  Mac waved goodbye and climbed down the fire stairs to LG2 with nothing more than a bottle of water and his phone. He’d had less many times before, on dusty mountain tracks or down cramped foxholes waiting for the enemy. He found the car and took out the phone to dial his mother again, but there was no service underground.

  The engine turned over easily, and Juliet had been right—it was zippy—and manual, too. He hadn’t had to change gears since he’d bought his first car, a VH model Holden Commodore, way back in the mid-1990s.

  He made his way through the almost empty lot and up to the ground level. The boom gates were up at the entrance. Must have been some sort of safety mechanism, Mac thought. He rolled out onto the street, expecting to find the infected and he did. They were in both directions, wandering along the edges and down the middle of the road. Mac went left and drove around them, their pale, blotchy faces barely acknowledging his presence.

  On the north-east side of the roundabout were the smoldering wreckages of several vehicles and more infected poking about the crinkled carcasses of a Lexus sports car and a small Toyota Prius. Mac went straight through and took the Suzuki back onto Moriarty Road, glancing at the infected wandering near the residential properties and the shadows beyond. Aside from their presence, the place was quiet, no signs of cars or people. Either sick or hiding in their homes, he thought.

  At the intersection on the edge of Devonport, he went right and headed down Faulkner Road, towards Dave-O’s house, with the rain blowing against the windscreen. There were less residential properties here and consequently, for a time, less infected.

  It was hard to believe two of his good mates were gone, but working in his field, he had long ago learnt to accept they wouldn’t all make it. He’d lost a number of close friends during his deployments in the Middle East. The first had struck him hard, but in the end, he’d been selected for the commando regiment for certain reasons, and one of those was his strength of mind. Admittedly, not all the guys had handled it as well as he did, but he had the ability to quickly move on and focus on the mission at hand. Smitty had suffered from bouts of PTSD. Mac had been worried about him before. He didn’t want him to be alone now and collecting him was the best thing for his friend.

  As Mac drew closer, the landscape began to change again. Freshly rendered houses, part of an increase in construction of late, began to appear, and with them, came the infected. They were in small groups mostly, poking about neat, rock-lined front yards, wandering along the road, or feeding in groups on some unseen victim at the curb. If he really considere
d the extent of this thing, the number of people who were sick or had died, Mac thought it might go on forever. The sheer scale of what it would take to clean up the place seemed, at that moment, insurmountable.

  He idled the car at the top of Dave-O’s street, losing count of the number of stragglers wandering over the road. Others stood unmoving, while several clusters were crouched on their knees around bodies, gnawing like animals feeding from a carcass. In contrast to all that he had watched on television and in the movies, their clothes were relatively clean, their skin and hair fresh. That would change soon, he thought.

  He was going to have to make a quick approach to Dave-O’s house and have Smitty ready. As soon as Mac drove past the infected, they would notice the car and come clambering after it. Mac scooped his phone off the seat and dialed Smitty’s number, but he couldn’t get a connection. He hung up and tried again, but with the same result. He wondered whether the network had finally shut down because there were no employees left to keep it running.

  A woman wandered closer to the little Suzuki, her inflamed eyes bulging out of her head. Long, beautiful blonde hair fell past her shoulders. Bloody smears stained her lips and mouth. He was going to have to move. Several more spotted him, then started for the car.

  Mac edged forward slowly. The woman followed alongside for a moment before he left her in his mirror. He was careful, keeping a consistent pace, and thankfully the little car was quiet. He swerved to miss the first few, but ahead, there were too many on the road.

  There was a knock on the back of the car. He glanced at the mirror and saw two of them clawing at the trunk. Beyond the hood, an unusually tall man wandered into his path. Others were following him and Mac realized that in seconds, the car would be swamped. He had to go.

  The tall thing stopped in the center of the road, in direct line with the Suzuki. Mac took off, swerving to avoid him. He managed that, but struck a plump woman stepping off the gutter, and she tumbled under the front of the car. There was a crunch as the car bounced. Mac steered it back towards the center of the road and accelerated, the car’s little engine revving.

  They were all aware of him now and began converging onto the road as he sped off. It wasn’t far to Dave-O’s place, and the road outside was clear, but it wouldn’t be for long.

  Mac turned into the right side of the driveway and slammed the on brakes. He glanced around, debating whether to sound the horn and hope Smitty was ready, but the infected were coming, more than a dozen of them, shambling along the road with Juliet’s red Suzuki in their sights. He weighed up his options and decided he had no choice but to leave the car and get inside. They would have to find another way out.

  He opened the door and leapt out then closed it and hurried towards the front door, glancing back at them. Their slobbery voices grew louder. He read the desperation on their faces as he banged on the front door.

  “Smitty! Open up, mate.”

  The first infected reached the driveway. He didn’t fancy going through what he’d gone through at the hospital earlier that day, but if he had to kick some ass, Mac was ready.

  Thankfully, the door swung open and Smitty peered back at him. Mac immediately noticed a big difference to the last time he’d seen his old mate. His face was pale, his eyes dark; Mac saw the situation was taking its toll on his friend. He was pleased he had come directly to him.

  The door swung wide. “Quick!” Smitty stepped back and Mac slipped through the entrance. Smitty closed the door and turned the lock. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Phones are down,” Mac said. “We’ve got company.”

  They each went to one of the front windows and peered out from behind the curtains. A mass of infected had united at the front of the house, filling the driveway and spilling out onto the street. They poured over the small Suzuki, covering it as they sought the remnants of Mac’s presence. The muted sound of breaking glass came to them, and Mac saw the window shatter over the concrete driveway. A smaller, teenage infected crawled in through the open space and into the car. Others tried to push their way in.

  Mac turned to Smitty. “We’re in strife, mate.”

  Smitty took a deep breath and only nodded.

  16

  It was almost dark when Kumiko woke to find the windscreen covered in rain. Pain flashed through the side of her head as she sat up. She rubbed her left temple and it all came back. The pharmacy. Dan. They were headed towards the hospital to find her parents and had a car accident. She turned and found Dan slumped in the seat beside her, his eyes closed and his head resting on his shoulder. She recalled the last few moments before the collision—a loud bang, then the car being thrown in all directions. Both her left arm and the side of her head ached.

  As she reached out to wake Dan, she spotted movement in the failing light beyond the hood of the car. A tall, lumbering shape walked along the street. Kumiko tried not to move. It stopped near the vehicle and then circled back towards them. She turned her head slightly, but lost it momentarily. She was about to twist around when something moved outside her window. She dared not move. In her peripheral vision, she saw the gruesome face of an infected man reflected in the hazy red and blue lights from the dashboard. It was bald, with deep, dark eyes like obsidian, and sharp angled cheeks. Kumiko held her breath. Time dragged on. Finally, after seconds that seemed like hours, it stood upright, sniffing the air as it turned away from the window, then disappeared into the shadows.

  “What the fuck was that?” Dan whispered. “That one didn’t look like the others.”

  “I don’t know, but I hope it pisses off.”

  Dan massaged a spot on the side of his skull. “Damn, my head hurts.”

  “Doesn’t look like you’re bleeding,” she said, turning his chin with her fingertips.

  His face scrunched in thought. “Guess we didn’t make it to the hospital. What time is it?”

  Kumiko searched the seat for her phone. Nothing. She leant forward and felt around on the floor. Her fingers touched plastic and she snatched it up. “Five minutes past seven.”

  “Tells you a lot that nobody has stopped to find out if we’re okay.” He unclasped his belt and twisted slowly, peering out the side windows. “Where’s the other car?”

  “I’d say they’ve gone. Assholes for not stopping. I hope the bloody car still works.”

  “The back door is smashed in.” He looked down at his door. “Mine too.”

  Dan surveyed the dashboard. All the indicators were still lit up. He reached down for the key, poised to turn over the engine.

  “Wait,” Kumiko said, grabbing his arm. She nodded at the windscreen. The shadows moved. Kumiko counted five infected.

  Dan dropped his hand away from the key. “Shit.”

  “You turn on the engine and they’ll be onto us. And if the car doesn’t start, what then?”

  “We’ll have to wait.”

  Kumiko took out her phone and tapped on the Google Maps app. Their location eventually appeared. They were outside Devonport, technically in Latrobe. The hospital was less than a mile away. Several side streets connected to the road on which they had crashed.

  Dan began shifting in his seat. “And what if they don’t leave, or the car won’t start?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Hey? What happened to the upbeat zombie fan that saved my ass earlier? The one who thought this was fun. Where’s he?” Dan dropped his gaze. “We’re not dead yet.”

  “Okay. Fair enough.” He gave a thin smile. “You ready to make a run for it if the car doesn’t start?”

  “You bet. There’s a couple of side streets we can use.”

  Dan folded his arms. “How long are we going to wait?”

  “Let’s just see what happens?”

  They watched the figures moving through the shadows, shuffling their way about the street. It began to rain again, obscuring their view.

  “You said earlier you thought it was the flu that caused this.”

  Dan rubbed his eyes. “The fl
u is a virus, but if one of them bites you, it probably becomes bacterial. Maybe it starts off as influenza and they get sick and then at some point, it mutates and attacks their brain and makes them crazy—or maybe rabid is a better description.” He rubbed his thick hair with both hands. “It changes their appearance and they get an insatiable desire for flesh and blood.”

  “But how does it get from a bad case of the flu to people biting other people? That’s a stretch.”

  “I honestly have no idea. It was never about the science of the sickness to me. I was fucking hopeless at science in school. I was more interested in the idea of the world ending, of society collapsing, that sort of thing.

  “But isn’t the fiction based on certain aspects of science?”

  “Some, yeah. Others are from our wider knowledge of science. Sometimes shit is just made up.”

  “What about those things out there. The one I saw at the window before didn’t behave like the others. He looked very scary.”

  “According to fiction, these things come in various types. You’ve got your classic zombie, slow and clumsy like Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and The Walking Dead.”

  “These ones?” Kumiko said, nodding at the window.

  “That’s right. Slow, fairly harmless unless they’re at close range. If there aren’t too many of them, you can generally make a getaway and if you’re fast and accurate with a weapon, you can kill them easily.”

  “Like the ones in the shop,” Kumiko said. Dan agreed. “But Jagdish the pharmacist wouldn’t say they were harmless. And I gotta tell you I was pretty scared.”

  “Sitting here and saying it is one thing.”

  “What about the others?”

  Dan turned to face her. “That’s where it gets tricky. If we look at books and movies like 28 Days Later, World War Z, or I am Legend, the infected move a lot faster and are more aggressive. Now these things are something to be scared of. They’re smart, calculating, and you’ve got very little time to do anything when they’re around.”