Desolation Boulevard (58 page)

I was really terrified
at this point, but I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t want to
upset Gabby. I was freezing, and all I could see was Matt’s head in
front of me as we trudged on, and I was certain that feeders would
pounce from the forest around us at any moment, and that would be
the end of us all. At one point, we stumbled across a group of
kangaroos feeding in the pale moonlight, and I screamed and fired
my gun into the darkness, which pissed Matt off quite a bit, but I
guess the feeders were busy elsewhere, and we were left alone to
continue our journey without incident.

Then, something
happened that forced us to change our plan. It started raining -
really teeming down. Now we had a problem! It was one thing to be
cold and dry, but being cold and wet was potentially lethal,
especially for little Gabby, so Matt urged us to move faster. He
felt that there might be a farmhouse not too far away, once we got
out of the valley, so we persevered, shivering and sloshing through
the mud as we pushed on blindly. Eventually, though, the effort
became too much for Gabby, and Matt needed to carry her, as Bonnie
and I struggled with the bag of guns.

My head was in a very
dark place by now, and I was shivering so much, that even walking
was becoming difficult. We had been trekking through the bush for
so long that I had lost faith in Matt to get us out of this mess.
My initial relief at surviving the feeders back at the farm and
rescuing Gabby had worn off, and I honestly believed that we would
die from exposure in that forest before we saw daylight. Despite
that, though, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other
(like a zombie) and when Matt yelled, “house!” I almost didn’t hear
him above the rain, I was such a wreck.

“House!” he screamed
again, and this time I did hear him! I dropped the bag of guns to
the mud, and pushed passed him to make sure he wasn’t mistaken, and
sure enough, there it was - a little abandoned house, nestled in a
clearing, overgrown with weeds and almost ready for the wrecking
crew. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever
seen!

Ten minutes later, we
were inside, crowded around a roaring fireplace, eating baked beans
straight from the can, wrapped up in dusty blankets that we’d
pulled from the beds. Nobody spoke. We were too exhausted and
probably in shock. We were satisfied just being dry and alive. For
the next few hours we slept, deep and dreamless, huddled together
on the floor like refugees, which I suppose we are
now.

The next morning the
rain had gone and the sun rose spectacularly above the hills in a
flawless cobalt sky. Nobody had mentioned Montana or Dylan
specifically; because we knew that to do so would mean having to
face the fact they were, in all likelihood, dead. By avoiding that
conversation, it meant that we could fool ourselves, for a little
longer anyway, into thinking that they were still alive. For a few
minutes, we discussed the idea of going back to the farm to check
for survivors, but we decided that it would be a pointless
exercise. If the feeders had won the battle (which they surely must
have), then the farm would now be a lair, and returning would only
put Gabby in peril once more. Of course, if anybody had managed to
survive the onslaught, then they would make their way to Diamond
Creek as planned, and we would be reunited, no matter how unlikely
that seemed.

-

It’s almost eight
o’clock now and we’ve just finished a breakfast of tinned fruit and
hot tea. Matt found an old Ford in the shed with almost a full tank
of fuel. He managed to get it started, and it seems like a pretty
reliable car for our trip. We’ve loaded up the boot with all of the
non-perishable food from the kitchen, our weapons, and the blankets
that we slept in last night. Matt and Bonnie are sitting in the
front seats (Bonnie has her gun ready, just in case), while Gabby
and I have made ourselves a little nest in the back seat with
Elvis, some bottles of water, and a pile of books that we found in
the house.

If all goes well, we
should be in Diamond Creek before night falls.

The
End

About the
Author

Mark Gordon
lives and writes in Newcastle, Australia and became a fan of
apocalyptic horror after watching the Omega Man on television as an
eleven year old. He has worked as a nightclub operator, disc
jockey, photographer, band manager, construction worker, and high
school teacher. He is currently working on the sequel to
“Desolation Boulevard”, titled
“Diamond Creek”, to be published in 2013.

www.desolationboulevard.net

Cover Design
by Mark Holdsworth