Where the Dead Men Lie (14 page)

"There’s got to be a way to kill it," the bald guy said.

"If there is, I’d like to hear it," Ben replied.

"May God have mercy on our souls," the priest said.

"You should forget that stuff. There ain’t no mercy. Not anymore. Not out here."

"I fear there is little left to do. We considered ourselves lucky to have survived the full brunt of the Oz virus. But now… now we have been pushed to the edge. The demons from the desert, the black smoke. It is too much."

"They’re called nano-swarms."

"What?"

"The black smoke. They’re rouge nano-swarms."

"I don’t understand."

"You don’t need to understand. The only thing you need to know is, if you see black smoke, you don’t have long. It’ll find you. Doesn’t matter if you’re hiding underground in a bank vault. That won’t keep it out. It’ll tear that vault apart. Eat it up."

"You know how to stop it, don’t you?" the priest said. "You know how to fight it. Tell me."

"Or what?"

"Please. I’m begging you."

"No need to beg, old man."

"Tell us," the bald guy said more forcefully.

"You can’t fight it. Not with guns."

"Then how? What do we do?"

"If you see it; run. Get out while you still can."

CHAPTER 22

Run.

Hearing Ben say that gave me chills.

We climbed down from the cardboard boxes.

"What the hell is black smoke?" Maria asked.

"I don’t know. Something we haven’t seen yet. Something the military created."

"Oh great."

"Yeah, things just keep getting worse. We can’t catch a break. And what is Ben doing? Is he really going to join these people?"

"What did you expect?" Maria asked.

"I don’t know. I thought he was…"

Wait. What did I think? Did I think he was normal? Sane? Did I think he was somehow different?

No. Like all of us, he’d lost big. He said if we’d been lucky, we all would’ve died in the initial outbreak. He may have been physically strong, made out of stone. But mentally, emotionally, he had shattered like glass.

And now he was joining forces with a madman.

Maria sat down against the wall and took another drink. "I hate being stuck inside like this. I hate not knowing what’s going on."

"Yeah, I agree. But there’s not much else we can do."

They’ve got the guns, I thought. And whoever has the guns is in charge.

Maria sat down against the wall and brought her knees up to her chest. I’m pretty sure she was just as scared as I was. But she did such a good job of hiding it. She took another sip of water and then offered me the bottle.

I took another drink, trying desperately to rehydrate myself. I handed the bottle back to Maria and decided to explore the surrounding cots and mattresses. I needed to keep busy so I wasn’t constantly imagining the worst case scenario. I picked up a newspaper that had been thrown on the ground next to a bunch of magazines. It was dated the fourth of February. Most of the newspaper was dedicated to the Oz virus and the outbreak.

The headlines read:

Super virus continues to spread.

Death toll rising.

Nationwide quarantine announced.

In amongst the gossip magazines and children’s toys I found a notebook. It was a diary of a girl named Sarah.

There was a little message written inside the cover. It read:

Property of Sarah Mackenzie.

No unauthorized persons allowed to view. (This means you mum. And this especially means you Hannah!)

Amazingly I recognized the handwriting and the name. Sarah. It was the same handwriting from the letter we found at the farmhouse. That must’ve been her house.

Next to the notebook were a whole bunch of crayon drawings. They were all drawn by a girl named Hannah. I guess this was Sarah’s little sister. The initial drawings were of her family. Two girls. Two parents.

A drawing of the farmhouse. A drawing of a horse called Princess Cinnamon.

But then the drawings changed. Most of them were drawn in charcoal.

Claws.

Eyes.

Infected.

Monsters.

Black smoke.

Tombstones.

More and more black smoke.

A cold chill crawled up my spine. I put them down and began reading Sarah’s diary.

February 7th

We finally made it. Took forever, especially since we had to walk the last 20 k’s when we ran out of fuel. Mum and dad are still fighting.

Mum thinks we should’ve followed the evac route. Gone to the military safe zone.

Dad did not want to go there. He knew what the camp would be like. He said it would be like a massive refugee camp. We’d be crammed in together like sardines. More chance of catching the virus around that many people.

So he made the decision to drive the 300km to Hope. He said Father Damon would be able to look after us.

February 11th

Mum is still angry with Dad. Every day, more and more people show up. Every day the church basement gets more and more crammed.

The smell is starting to get to me and now we have young children here. They cry all through the night. Sleeping is getting harder and harder.

February 16th

We’re completely cut off from the outside world now. The town is empty. Pretty much everyone left when the military advised people to evacuate.

It feels weird, like Hope is the only place inhabited by people or something.

We hear rumors everyday about the Oz virus spreading right throughout the country. Scary rumors about the military killing innocent people, and bombing cities to contain the virus.

It’s impossible to know what’s going on.

It was Valentine’s Day the other day. No one celebrated it. I don’t think anyone remembered.

Father Damon makes everyone go to church. Every freakin morning.

I don’t like that man. He gives me the creeps.

Feb 17th

We had our first ever encounter with an infected person today. I didn’t actually see it. But apparently it stumbled into town all by itself.

4 of the men surrounded it; (dad included) and bashed it to death with cricket bats. One of the other guys, (can’t think of his name, the guy with the bald head), finished it off with a bullet to the brain.

Apparently you have to shoot an infected person in the brain or destroy their brain somehow to put them out of their misery. (That’s how Father Damon always says it. ‘put them out their misery’. Or ‘release them from purgatory’). I don’t know what that means.

Anyway, the gunshot was the loudest thing in the world.

We could even hear it in the church basement.

Feb 19th

Two more infected people showed up today.

Father Damon told the men they weren’t allowed to use their guns.

The gun shot is too loud.

The men bashed the two infected people to death but one of the men was bitten.

He was killed (put out of his misery/released from purgatory) by his best mate.

Feb 25th.

A massive dust storm has blown in from the desert. No one has been outside all week. The dust storm shows no sign of letting up.

Feb 27th

Dad has started growing a moustache. He looks silly. Mum doesn’t like it. Says it tickles her mouth when he kisses him.

Feb 28th

I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just go ahead and say it.

Today a monster came to town.

A really big monster.

It was climbing all over the town hall and the police station and the church. You could hear it moaning, and purring. Sniffing. It was putting its nose right up against the windows and the doors. It was looking for food. For us.

It was hunting.

More rumors. People start talking about zombies. And the infected psychopaths. The effects of the Oz virus.

Could it create a monster like that? Could the virus change a person and turn them into an unrecognizable monster?

March 2nd

Father Damon organized an emergency meeting.

Talked about the monster. He said a lot of weird stuff. Like how it was obviously the wrath of hell. A demon. A spawn of Lucifer himself.

More search parties were formed. Their goal will be to search for food for the group and anything we can used to feed the monster. Cattle, cow, sheep. Anything.

Father Damon said it was looking for food. So if we can feed it, it will leave us alone.

March 3rd

Food and water supplies from the church are running low. A group of volunteers has been organized to raid the wholesale food warehouse on the outskirt of town when the dust storm clears.

March 4th

Every day we hear more rumors, more stories. It’s like this weird game of ‘Chinese Whispers’. No one knows what to believe. What is truth and what is fiction? It’s impossible to tell. Especially when people talk about monsters and strange black tornados and zombies.

March 5th

The monster came back today.

Everyone was ordered into the bank vault to hide.

March 6th

Father Damon said we couldn’t afford to wait for the dust storm to clear. So search parties will be sent out every day to look for food.

People are starting to disappear.

March 8th

The Monster is coming back more and more often. Every few days now.

More people are missing. The basement is starting to feel empty.

A lot of women are missing.

Father Damon has told us that a lot of the younger children are getting ‘sick’ because they are not as strong as the rest of us. They are being separated from the group.

It is a lot quieter now.

March 10th

The dust storm has finally subsided. Clear blue skies as far as the eye can see. It’s nice to be outside again.

March 11th

The monster showed up again. And we were ordered into the bank vault again.

One of the older women sat next to me. She appeared to be drunk.

She kept saying the same crazy things, over and over.

Women and children.

Sacrifice.

Murder.

Mass murder.

Women and children.

Don’t drink the water.

After she said that last one, she looked at me.

Her eyes locked on to mine.

Don’t drink the water.

March 12th

Mum and dad were chosen for a food run. Apparently there’s a big supermarket warehouse over in the town of Hunter.

I’m scared for them both. I don’t want to be alone.

I spent the whole time trying to occupy myself, trying not to think the worst. I tried reading. Must’ve read the same page about a million times.

Hannah seemed to be coping really well. I don’t know how.

Eventually the group returned. They had food and water.

Dad was there.

Mum was not.

She was missing.

March 14th

It’s been two days now. No sign of my Mum. Dad keeps crying at night. He’s starting to break. I hear him whispering to himself, that he had no choice.

No choice.

March 15th

Dad, and Father Damon called me in for a special meeting. I assumed it was about my mother.

Dad’s face was blank, expressionless.

He kept staring at the ground. He wouldn’t look at me.

Father Damon said he was sorry for my loss. Said a prayer. Asked us all to hold hands.

He asked us to take to communion.

I told him I wasn’t religious.

He insisted.

The bread was stale and hard. Almost chipped a tooth.