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Copyright 2017 AP Hunt

Published by AP Hunt at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

About the Author

Other books by the Author

Connect with the Author
Acknowledgements

Thanks to friends and family for all their support and help. Thanks to Kristy and Rebecca for their beta-reads of this story, their continued feedback, and for tolerating my constant talking about writing. Thanks also to my wife, Michelle, for her constant support.
Prologue

The technician rummaged around his toolbox, quickly taking inventory of the items he was going to need over the next few hours. He was preparing his gear from the rear of his van in a car park that was outside a telephone exchange and data centre. It was an old building with brick the kind of beige colour that computers wore during the era in which the structure was likely built. The centre was a high-priority secure site, containing myriad locks and doors, and bordered by a fence that appeared nastier than it truly was. Wrought iron spikes pointed upward toward the darkened sky, their sharpness enough to look painful, but ultimately would only cause discomfort for anyone daring to climb over. The only entrance to the compound was a turnstile, which was locked by a magnet, allowing only one person at a time to cross into the yard. These barriers were of no concern to to the technician. His his job required him to regularly visit the data centre, so he was a familiar face to the security staff, and his entry required only a smile and a "hello".

He took a moment to glance up at the sky. There was a storm approaching, and it was descending upon the city with a remarkable and surprising ferocity and haste. Edges of dark clouds swirled upward from their base, as though the billows of condensation were harvesting the very air they rode upon.

The technician had seen a number of storms throughout his time in this city, but this one seemed larger than most. Telecommunications needed to be maintained for emergencies, and this data centre and exchange was an important hub in the city's veins of voice and data. He gathered all his necessary tools into a tool sack and slung the weight over his shoulder, making the items inside clank as they bounced off his hip. He had a job to do, although the plans he had were different to the tasks for which he would normally visit the centre.

He pressed the intercom button to call the security desk, the vibrato monotone from the speaker was familiar in its lack of enthusiasm. Knowing that the security desk could see him via a Closed Circuit TV, he looked up at the camera expectantly, offering a pleasant smile to whoever was viewing him.

"Heya!" came a lady's voice through the speaker box, and the turnstile let out a dull, metallic sound to confirm that the magnetic latch had released. The technician pushed through, letting the metal grate catch on the magnetic latch behind him, as he began to trek over to the main building through the compound. As he reached the door to the building it opened automatically, the security guard clearly familiar with the technician from the multiple visits he made to the data centre.

"More work?" came a voice from the opposite side of the room; a young woman wearing the uniform of a security guard. She was behind a clear layer of perspex that had holes machined into it, as though whichever security guard on duty was a reptilian pet. He knew this guard, a young twenty-something named Justine who had been doing security work for only a few years. She was relatively green, so to speak, compared to the decades that the technician had been working.

"Big storm coming," the technician said to Justine, "Just gotta be sure it all stays up and working."  
The security guard checked her list of appointments for the data centre, perusing the names slowly while tracing her finger down the page. She repeated the motion a couple times, "I don't actually see you on here" she said as she searched, releasing each word of the sentence tentatively.

The technician shrugged, "I don't know what to tell you. I was called up and sent here, just like usual." It was a simple tactic for him to get in; feign ignorance and then rely upon the familiarity with the guard to have them bend the rules – just this once. Always "just once".

Justine again passed over the list of the names, "You know, I think I'll just let you in and call up the company to check. You know what you're doing."

The technician smiled to her, welcoming her allowance, "Thanks a lot. With the storm coming, I should get this done quickly."

Justine nodded and returned with her own smile, "I'm not going to be held accountable for holding up the person who needs to keep the show running." She said, pressing a button on the underside of the desk at which she was sitting, a click sounding from a door to the side of the room as it unlatched.

The technician gathered up his tools and pushed through the door. He liked how this city was still quite relaxed about issues such as security and control. It wasn't a large city. It had all the bustle of a metropolis, but still the kind of familiarity that is typically found in small country towns. It did give the city an air of awkwardness, as though it was a teenager just finding out about their own identity but not knowing what on earth to do about it except aping what other cities were doing. But in the meantime, the technician's familiarity with Justine's familiarity with his situation, although he knew that he might later need to do something about getting the paperwork done to justify why he was on the site without a callout.

But that was a problem for after the storm. Not now.

Chapter One

The Press Room was full, bubbling away with fervent activity, heads of journalists bobbing up and down and turning to each other to talk. There was a nervous energy in the room, coupled with the typical ravenous noises not dissimilar to that of a pond full of piranhas, each individual turning to review their surrounds, primed to feed. Everyone was waiting for their address from Nicole Nguyen, the Minister in charge of Emergency Services.

There was a storm approaching the city. It was an unusual occurrence at this time of year, with the trees defecating pollen throughout the parks, and flowers springing from any orifice in the pavement that dared to let nature peek out. The approaching storm would likely soon dispatch such petals, blowing them into the various corners around buildings, or simply snapping the stems off at their bases. Many would attribute the pending storm with the omnipresent demon of climate change, and Nicole had read enough comments sections on news sites to understand that the ire was typically fired without consideration for the bigger issues; ie that there was a deadly storm actually approaching.

And arrive it would, and people would know about it even without the need for this press conference.

Nicole smoothed the jacket of her suit slowly, and tucked her long hair behind her ear, getting her presentation correct. Her advisers had instructed her to not have any jewellery visible, but her hair still needed to be maintained. She had to strike that right balance between looking like she was making an effort, but not too much of an effort so as to be seen as focussing on superficial things.

The atmosphere in the room began to grow. Nicole could feel it. She was the veteran of numerous press encounters like this, even for emergency situations similar to this one, but the anomalous nature of the storm's approach – during springtime – had made the media hungry for a story that didn't have a benign headline such as, "Rain falls on city. Sky to blame". The media wanted something more. They wanted a bigger boogeyman.

Nicole steeled herself for facing the pack, changing her facial expression to one of concern, but not stressed \- a leader who could take an onslaught but who still conveyed a vulnerability to the situation at hand. In all likelihood, Nicole knew that the storm would hit, cause some mayhem and then be fixed with an astute pace. Afterward the memory of the grim disaster would fade within a matter of weeks. But the journalists wanted their drama now, and it was something that she would give with typical gravity.

She stepped from behind the curtain and started to walk to the lectern, the sound of snapping shutters hid the sound of her heels on the floor, and flashes filled the air in the room, strobing the walls. The room retained a quiet respect for her as she stood before her podium, and Nicole took a moment to acknowledge the person who would be hand-signing the press conference for members of the audience who had a hearing impairment. She looked about the dozens of faces, most of them familiar and wearing an expectant look. The younger ones had a tinge of worry on their faces, but the older ones had a veneer of stoicism, having likely seen similar events to this one, and who were well versed in the city's resilience to such potential disasters.

Nicole gripped the lectern with both hands and leaned in a little before starting, "Hello everyone. I will not keep you all for very long, as I know you all have families and loved ones to get to." Nicole spoke with an official air. She had groomed this tone over many years of public service, particularly as a serving Minister, able to carry her own confidence when such a tone was required. She could also expertly soften her voice to sound concerned, which could make her more approachable for times she needed to relate to people. That was a voice she knew she would need to reserve for after the storm had passed, and for when the repair effort would begin. But for now, she needed to be an official.

"Tropical Cyclone Gerald will be making landfall at around eight o'clock this evening. It has been classified as Category two, with winds up to one hundred and sixty kilometres an hour and gusts up to a hundred and eighty. Emergency services are on standby, and we are making all efforts to ensure that all infrastructure remains operational throughout the course of the storm. Our crews are very courageous and brave and we send our thanks to them." Nicole paused for a moment to allow the signer to catch up to her words. The signer signalled her appreciation to Nicole with a nod and a nervous smile. Replying with her own nod, Nicole continued, "We advise all residents to stay indoors and away from windows during this time. Please secure any items that could become potential missiles, and please keep all pets indoors. This storm is a once-in-a-lifetime event, particularly for our state, so we caution everyone to remain off the roads and to stay inside somewhere safe. Stay out of the elements, everyone. Good luck to you all."

Nicole again paused to allow the sign language to catch up.

"Now, I know most of you would like to get out of here, but if you have any questions I am happy to address any concerns now. But please understand that my responses will be brief." Nicole sounded grave, adding weight to her words to emphasise the serious nature of the approaching beast. She looked out over the group of faces, and noticed a few rising hands. Nicole nodded to a nearby woman she recognised as Olivia from The Daily Recorder, a small but notable publication that appealed to a younger demographic. At previous conferences, Olivia had been dressed in a formal manner, but Nicole noted her casual attire on this occasion, more suited to comfort than business – which was completely understandable given the subject of the press conference.

"Gerald, as you said, is a once-in-a-lifetime storm," Olivia began, "Are you certain that the city is properly prepared?"

Nicole paused, as if to think about her reply. She already had a reply in her mind, having pre-empted such a question prior to the conference, but she didn't want to give the impression that she was dismissive.

"This storm is a severity of which we haven't witnessed before in the past fifty years," Nicole said with gravity, "A number of personnel are at the ready to set up recovery centres for people displaced by the storm, and emergency crews are on standby for any serious events that occur. I have great faith in the people of our great city and state, and I am sure that everything will be back up and running at a quick pace."

Olivia sat down, and the room erupted into noise as more questions were dealt toward Nicole. Another journalist stood up, a man who was also familiar to Nicole but not only for the professional relationship. Unlike Olivia before him, he was dressed in a more business-like attire – and certainly more dressed than other times that she had seen him. A knowing smile came over her face, "Hello Nathan." She said. Nathan was the Political Correspondent for the local, most popular paper, and he was a seasoned journalist with many years of scandal covers, election reporting and legislation explaining. Their respective jobs ensured that they had constant, frequent contact with each other.

"Hello Minister," Nathan began, his voice carrying that professional timbre but with a hint of playfulness. While he might have been a physical partner to Nicole, she knew full-well that he enjoyed the battle of the minds as much as, if not more than, the contact of the bodies. It wasn't a secret to the room that the relationship between the two existed, but nobody cared to raise it. Nathan hadn't gone easier on Nicole in these press conferences since they began their personal meets, continuing to take her to task for decisions she had made. If anything, he was more ruthless in his dissecting of her arguments and more pointed when she tried to deflect him, "Where will these centres be located?"

It was a benign question, Nicole thought. He had to be leading somewhere with this, "Centres will be located at positions that will maximise access to the public. These will be places like train stations, bus stations and even sport stadiums. A list of locations can be found on our website, and on a fact sheet that we will provide you after this conference and which will also be available on the Government's website. I implore you to circulate their locations as much as you can with your readership." Nicole replied, keeping her grave voice.

Nathan continued standing, "Considering we don't know just how much the storm would affect the city, do you think that the resources you spend on these Recovery Centres could be better spent on repairs to ensure the city is fully functional quicker?" Nathan asked.

"Now, Nathan," Nicole said, trying to mask her condescension, "People are the most important part of our city and our state. Their safety and shelter is of utmost importance to us, and I feel we should over-cater to their immediate needs, rather than under-cater. Yes, it would be nice to fix any blackouts quickly, but personally I would sacrifice hours without power and internet to ensure that everyone affected by the storm is properly sheltered and fed."

Nathan smiled to Nicole, clearly satisfied that he'd challenged her, but also in a knowing concession that she'd won that little stoush. Nicole wondered if he kept a scoreboard to record the times he had bested her in the press room battlegrounds. Nathan resumed his seat and regarded his smart phone as he updated social media with the information he'd gleaned.

Another journalist stood, who Nicole recognised from an online publication. It was a small outlet, but one which had a very vocal and passionate audience. Nicole had once been on the wrong end of their audience, which took a surprising amount of energy to disperse, and it was no occurrence she cared to repeat any time soon.

"Corey Summers from Gumshoe Rally dot com." Corey introduced.

"Yes Corey." Nicole said, acknowledging the new combatant to the arena. She glimpsed for a moment over to Nathan, who was smiling smugly to himself. She knew that Nathan had no qualms with the fledgling upstart online news outlet, but he didn't give them much respect either. New journalists needed to start somewhere, and these outlets were more suitable than most, but despite this, Nathan had told Nicole that he abhorred their existence. He had done the hard yards as a lackey in the newspaper office when he was younger, so he had worked himself above that entry level. Nicole did think it such a pity had he held little appreciation for the lower rungs of the industry, many of whom were doing it tough.

Corey continued, "What will _you_ be doing to help during the storm?" almost in an accusatory tone toward Nicole.

She welcomed the question, but framed her face to be as serious as possible, "Nothing." She began, quickly continuing to block any follow up from the reporter, "Emergency crews and recovery centres will be working hard tonight and over the next few days to get the city back to normal operations. They don't need someone like myself poking about and making their jobs any more difficult. I will be following my own advice and will be staying indoors with loved ones to ride out the storm. I encourage you all to do the same."

Corey looked as though he was wanting to expand upon his initial question, but instead he nodded and returned to his seat. Nathan still wore his amused expression. Nicole shot him a disparaging look as the sign language person finished their gesticulating. The murmurs in the room threatened to rise again, but Nicole raised a single hand to silence the gathering.

"Okay, I think I've provided the most important information to circulate at this time. If you could please get the message out to your readers, we as a city will unite together and endure what is coming, and our combined strength will have us back to regular business soon. I appreciate your time. Please, go back to your families and stay safe."

Nicole half anticipated that the room would again erupt into further questions, or requests for a sound bite, but the attendees simply began gathering up their belongings with minimal fuss. Journalists folded up their notebooks, camera operators started to collapse their equipment, and the ushers opened the door to the room with nary a sound. There was a certain order to the mob and a real sense of purpose, like the engagement of a hivemind. Apart from the usual stoush that she had anticipated from Nathan, the press conference was devoid of the conflict she had always weathered before. It felt odd, in a way.

It was only a storm, Nicole figured. They couldn't be that worried, surely.

Some of the journalists took some moments to stab their fingers into the glass screens of their phones, sometimes flicking and pulling at the devices to get their quick update before they departed.

Nicole turned and thanked the sign language interpreter with a simple nod before walking from the lectern. Not a singe voice called after her. Not a single camera shuttered. The exit from the room was alien to Nicole, even though she was a veteran of many such briefings to the press. This wasn't even her first conference regarding a looming natural event, but this time it just... different. Nicole was wary of simply discarding her feelings of disquiet, with her gut often being a great barometer for challenging times ahead. There was something off, and she couldn't quite place the source of the sensation.

She carried this sensation with her outside, the firm gusts of the storm pushing into her face the moment she opened the door. Her ears rumbled and crackled as the wind swirled around her head, with the rustles from the nearby trees intruding through the noise in some brief intervals. Her car awaited her, its driver standing beside the vehicle with a dutiful gait.

Upon seeing Nicole, the driver leaned over to pull the rear door open, nice and wide to help her ingress to the long, dark limousine. As the cabin lit, she could see Rebecca, her assistant, patiently sitting inside cradling some folders, no doubt for Nicole's attention and signature. As the typical acknowledgement, Nicole nodded to the driver as she entered the vehicle, and greeted Rebecca with an equally unenthused tilt of the head.

"These are the briefings for the meetings you have over the next few days," Rebecca started, "Most of the meetings have been moved to a few days away, just so attendees can fully recover from the storm."

Nicole hummed her acknowledgement, taking a single folder from Rebecca and thumbing over the papers inside to briefly glimpse at their content. The pages wore the ink of formal-speak and professional writing, and were bound in a folder to appear premium.

"Your dogs have been moved to the kennels nearest your home - the usual place you take them when you're away." Rebecca continued.

"And you'll get them after the storm?" Nicole asked, to which Rebecca replied to the affirmative.

"The main things I've put in these folders are simple pieces of correspondence that just require your signature. The letters have been reviewed by a number of people, so they should only take you a few minutes to review." Rebecca briefed.

"Good, thank you." Nicole said, not looking up from the single folder. She held her hand outward for Rebecca to hand over the remaining documents, which Rebecca delivered with promptness, "You have thought of everything, Rebecca." Nicole said.

"I do try, Minister."

Nicole looked up from the pages to regard her assistant directly. She was young and enthusiastic, much like Nicole was when she was that age. Nicole's progress through the ranks of Government had been speedy, but hard-fought. She was probably only a mere decade older than Rebecca, so she was young for a Minister, but Nicole's tenacity and dedication had assured her a prominent place in the party. Rebecca could likely succeed Nicole sometime in the future, if she ever grew the spine to emerge from the back room and take centre-stage, but Rebecca would need to do the hard yards first. She was good at what she did, but Nicole thought Rebecca far too timid. Nicole liked the idea of mentoring a young mind and shaping her into something of value, but Rebecca would need to be a long-term investment.

"Thank you for your efforts, Rebecca," Nicole said, "You should probably get home to your family. Stay safe, alright? Gerald is a big one."

"Of course, Minister. You stay safe, too." Rebecca replied before opening the door to the limousine.

Nicole watched her climb from the vehicle, shivering slightly from the gush of wind and the thrush of noise that clambered into the cabin. The trees outside were starting to crash wildly from the winds as the storm began to take ahold of their limbs, pushing the branches around like a bully shoving their prey.

Nicole nodded to the driver, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. He nodded in return, knowing Nicole's destination, The Haymarket Hotel. Nicole often stayed there when she needed to be close to the city. Her actual home was an hour from Central, but when she was at the height of working, and especially during potential crises like this, she needed to be close and accessible.

She returned her attention to the papers before her as the car began to glide away. Nicole liked this driver for how he could smoothly transition the car from stationary to some velocity without thrusting the passengers inside with unnecessary forces. This appreciation Nicole felt suddenly evaporated as she felt the seatbelt tighten across her chest and the papers she cradled slid along her thighs. The car stopped with a harsh abruptness. She looked up to the driver's mirror to give him an incredulous glance, but her gaze travelled beyond the glass of both the mirror and windscreen to spot someone standing before the car in the pool of headlights. A familiar figure. Recognition taking ahold, she smiled, despite the figure being unable to see her inside the confines of the limousine.

"Sorry, Minister," the driver began, "He just stepped out in..."

"It's okay, driver," Nicole said in a warm tone, shedding any sense of consternation at the inconvenience of her slightly jumbled papers, "I know him. You may unlock the doors."

The figure must have heard the sound of the doors clicking over the thrashing trees around him, because he began to stride over to the rear door opposite where Nicole was seated. He opened the door and peered in.

"Hello, Minister." Nathan said, his deeper voice contrasting with the high-pitched thrashing of tree movement. The journalist always carried himself confidently.

"Nathan." Nicole acknowledged, sounding expectant, like a parent waiting for the right moment to admonish their child.

"Shall I come in?" Nathan asked, a cheeky, wry smile travelling up the side of his face.

"I should leave you to the storm, you asshole." Nicole rebuked, stern but still retaining some teasing playfulness, "That press conference was an address to the people about an impending disaster, and you want to try to score points?"

Nathan shrugged, "I've still got a job to do." He climbed into the car, still wearing that smile, "Even in a disaster, politicians are scoring points themselves, although they're doing it a little less obviously than I am, and they're less willing to admit to it." He ducked his head slightly as he crossed from the noisey outside to the quiet inside. He pulled the door closed, shutting the threshold with a slow assurance.

"That's a cynical way of looking at it." Nicole said.

"These are cynical days." Nathan replied, leaning in toward Nicole. She leaned in as well, slowly meeting his lips for a soft and lingering kiss. The car rocked for a moment as the wind outside buffeted the panels, and the gust coughed at the edges of the window, threatening to climb into the quiet of the cabin.

Nicole withdrew from Nathan to look up at the rearview mirror, seeing that the driver had respectfully averted his eyes from the pair in the back, "Hotel, driver." Nicole instructed, still half-leaning into her partner on the rear bench-seat. She could still smell his cologne and it was mixed in with the odour of his own body to become an intoxicating cocktail.

She needed to get to shelter, and it couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter 2

The technician stared at the vast racks of blinking lights before him, slightly confused as to where he should start. The data centre was like a cavern of glow worms, with routers and switches illuminating little else but the dark metal frames from which they hung. The technician knew that he could break from his moment of pause and contemplation and simply start swinging a wrench with reckless abandon, but he also knew there were essential services being maintained behind many of the blue lights on the racks. Ambulance services. Emergency services. All kinds of services could be compromised by a single flashing light being carelessly extinguished.

He turned his attention to the rainbow web of wires leading from the Multi Distribution Frame, each thread part of the tangle representing telephony lines for voice, both inside the facility and out. Whenever he worked on the frame, the technician always stopped to marvel at how the haphazard and draping collection of wires handled a service as important as communications so effectively. They were ageing wires, but still performing their job, decades after their installation.

There was a faint thudding sound as the storm bellowed from outside. In this particular room, the technician was at the centre of the entire compound, shielded from the elements by many feet of brick, mortar, pipes and beams. Despite the isolation of this room, the storm was still audible through the myriad creaks, groans and whistles of the building as it fended off the weather. The storm was ferocious.

The technician could still feel his internal division, knowing precisely the ramifications of what he was about to do. He could risk a great number of lives if he was too careless. This wasn't about a total and complete wipe out; he wanted more of a controlled collapse. Something that sends a message, but without resulting in large swathes of collateral damage.

He took a deep breath, feeling his trepidation dwindle. He realised that the storm outside wouldn't be so careful with the destruction it would deal, he thought. Even if he was to be be as calculating as possible and limit the fallout to just his targets, the storm wouldn't be as discriminating. The weather could even perform the work he was planning on his behalf. Anything could happen. But he wanted to make sure the work was done in the way he wanted, rather than simply leaving it to Mother Nature.

He reached into his toolbag and began searching around for the tools he'd need.

The wine glasses chimed together as the pair toasted their own company. The windows of the hotel room were hidden behind some very thick curtains, but the sound of the raging storm outside caused the glass to rattle and thrum with each consecutive gust. Small amounts of rain ticked against the pane, the glass serving to reduce the storm's tumultuous mood to that of a mildly-annoyed, locked-out pest. The hotel room in which Nicole and Nathan were seated was luxuriously appointed, replete with thick linens and a saturation of warm, yellow lighting. They both wore their respective uniforms for work, having not changed since the press conference, but their outfits displayed the tell-tale signs that the formalities had passed. His shirt bereft of one button with the tie loosened, and her jacket was draped over the chair behind her.

Nicole took in the sight of Nathan, appreciating the air of his confidence and the cut of his shirt as it pulled taut around his torso. It was a neat fit for him, neither too small to tug at the buttons, but still firm enough to accentuate his shape. She tasted the wine with the same appreciation at which she was drinking in the sight of her company. He too seemed caught up in her presence, peering at her over the rim of his own glass as he sipped before placing the stemware on the small table that separated them.

Their meals lay on their plates, half finished. Their conversation and company had distracted them from the impeccably-prepared food. Room service typically accrued an extra surcharge, but Nicole was happy to wear the cost for the privacy.

"Everyone knows about us, you know?" Nathan began.

"I wasn't trying to hide it." Nicole replied.

"You're not worried about someone questioning your relationship with the press?" Nathan asked.

Nicole put her own glass down next to her plate of steak and mash, "Not really. Your relationship with your readers is your problem. Not mine. I just gotta serve the people." she said with a confident smile. She tried to sound sincere with her words, but she had been doing her role for long enough, and for years had endured the changeable demands and the lofty heights of expectations. "Serving the people" seemed more like a job title than an actual task to perform. A phrase to print underneath her name on a business card rather than an actual goal to aim for.

"You underestimate how much people care about these kinds of things." Nathan said, again lifting his wine glass to sip again the alcohol inside.

"Even if they do care, people only care for a short period of time before the fact just becomes everyday and normal. I think you underestimate the power that time has. Time destroys almost everything, but the only thing that's different is the dose." Nicole said.

"That sounds rather nihilistic."

Nicole couldn't resist the opportunity to tease the journalist, "And how long have you been a political correspondent?" She knew he had been in his position a long time, but she took some pleasure in implying his naïveté.

"Clearly not long enough." Nathan replied.

Nicole laughed softly, her finger idly circling around the rim of her wine glass. The crystal sang a very soft ring at her touch, "You'll be old hat and understanding of how the game works soon enough, I am sure."

"I'm not green." Nathan said, some mild annoyance starting to lilt into his voice.

"Okay." Nicole assured, reaching across the table to take him by his hand. She ran her thumb over the tops of his knuckles as she smiled over to him. The wind again thrummed against the outside of the nearby window, reminding the pair of the isolation and warmth they were experiencing inside their decadent hotel room. He squeezed her fingers in response to her touch, his skin warm and enticing.

"My things are in the car still." he said.

"I'll have someone bring them up." Nicole said.

"Must be nice to have people cater to your every whim."

Nicole smiled, pulling his hand closer to her chest, "My assistants are the best. You really should get one."

"Do you always refer to your staff as though they are things?" Nathan asked, his own teasing smile etching across his face. He was still trying to challenge her, Nicole knew. He was trying to wrest some control of this situation from her to keep her on her toes, but she knew he had lost this encounter. His own desire was revealed in the way his chest expanded and retreated beneath his shirt from his heavy breaths.

"Only the useful ones." Nicole replied, standing up before him so he could view her figure in full.

The wind roared outside, and some snapping could be heard from distant objects. Nicole paid them no mind, knowing that she would need to deal with these matters in the morning. There was nothing she could do, not that she cared for much except the man across the table from her. She reached for her glass with her spare hand to take one last sip of her drink before she tugged Nathan to his feet, leading him to the linen-wrapped destination of her choosing.

The sound of the alarm from Nicole's phone probed away at her dreams. The pleasant feeling of the hallucination began to drift away from her mind as she regained her consciousness from slumber. Eventually the memories of the scenes in her dreams would linger in the haze of waking before fading away to nothing, leaving only the reality of the world in its trail. The alarm pulsed rhythmically at Nicole's ears, with the regularity of a quickened heart beat. She inhaled and groaned as she vaguely tugged at the heavy quilt that was draped across her and her bed partner.

She started to shake off the delirium, reaching across to the bedside table to silence the insistent blaring from the smartphone. It was 7am – Nicole's regular waking time. She rolled back over to meet the face of Nathan beside her, still stubbornly sleeping away, his mind clearly rejecting the summons from Nicole's alarm.

Nicole sighed and began to work up her motivation to leave the warm sheets. She turned back to her phone on the side table to check for any notifications. There was always something awaiting her attention each morning, typically from Rebecca, citing an urgent requirement of comment or the importance of her promptness to the day's tasks.

There was nothing.

Nicole opened the phone's internet browser to search for any news items relating to the storm, and the extent of the damage. While Nicole and Nathan had been shut indoors, sheltered from the rage of the elements outside, the stormy sounds that Nicole had registered – the groaning windows and howling hallways – suggested that the city had faced a great walloping.

The internet browser on her phone stopped at a blank, white screen, as if confused at Nicole's request. The loading symbol circled around and around, conveying its frustration at being unable to locate the page that Nicole had requested. Eventually the circling stopped and the browser shrugged up a "couldn't find the page" excuse.

Nicole glanced to the top of the screen for any sign of the vertical bars to denote signal. No service. She looked to her WiFi settings, hoping to connect to the Hotel's internet service. No WiFi points were registering as nearby.

She tried to light the bedside lamp, but it returned an unlit bulb. There was a regular telephone on the table as well, but the receiver emanated no noise when lifted.

The damage from the storm must have been severe, Nicole mused. She slid out from the covers and placed her bare feet down onto the thick rug beneath the bed. She took a moment to enjoy the fibre's gentle caress on the soles of her feet before standing to search for a dressing gown. Hotels always supplied a dressing gown.

She glanced over her shoulder to see if Nathan had woken. He would always make a remark of appreciation whenever he saw her naked, particularly her back, but this time he was still laid on his side, his face half-buried into the pillow.

When in the thralls of passion, she was always sure that she was facing him, more often than not looking down upon him from above. That's the way she preferred it. She knew he wanted to see her back during their love-making, but Nicole wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. She liked her own pace, and her own terms. Both in business and in pleasure.

Nicole stood and slinked over to the bathroom, where she retrieved the hotel-supplied bathrobe. She pulled the sleeves over her skin, feeling the softness wrapping over her arms, shoulders, back and hips. She tied the robe in a loose knot before returning to the main room with the bed. Nathan was still snoozing on his side, a gentle snore emanating from his sinuses. He had often complained about allergies this time of year, but Nicole thought that the rain from the storm might have kept the pollen on the ground.

Nicole wasn't familiar with the science of the environment. Her thought about pollen just made sense in her head.

She again picked up her smartphone to see if any network was available, but the phone still stubbornly displayed its "No service" message. Nicole sighed with some frustration. There were likely a number of messages and briefs awaiting her attention, and she couldn't waste her time waiting idle. There were things to do, and she shouldn't be stationary in a hotel room.

For a moment, Nicole appreciated the detachment from her phone, and not having to respond to anything. It felt relieving in a way, to not be at someone's beck and call, and not responding to someone's meltdown.

Then Nathan snored again.

Perturbed at his insistence on remaining asleep, Nicole placed her phone back on the table and walked over to the nearby curtains, yanking them open with sharpness and intent. The curtain rails bristled at the tug. Bright sunlight beamed into the room, lighting up all corners, and casting defined shadows of the furniture (and the slumbering journalist) onto the opposite wall.

The journalist snorted once as the sun graced his unshaven face. He offered only a subtle moan before turning over, away from the invading light. The sheet fell a little from his shoulder, showing much of his bare back. Nicole paused to admire his physique for a moment, appreciating the definition of his shoulders and sides as they slid down his triangular shape before the view of his skin disappeared beneath the threads of the bedsheet.

"Storm's over." Nicole said simply.

There wasn't an immediate response from Nathan, but she heard him inhale as he began to shake off the sleep.

"Time to get to work. We need to review the damage and start fixing the place." Nicole continued. She turned back to the open window to survey the city from her high vantage point. Staring down into the streets, she saw no movement. It was still early in the morning, and this particular district of the city wasn't busy on the weekends, so Nicole wasn't too concerned about the quiet. If anything, the silence seemed normal. There was little movement at all that she could see, apart from the odd bird soaring past the hotel window.

Nathan stirred some more and rolled over onto his back. His eyes blinked a few times before he looked over to Nicole, tugging up the sheet from around his waist to cover some of his torso, "After 'breakfast'?" he offered. Nicole could see him appraising her figure, despite her skin being hidden by the thick and soft bathrobe. From his tone, she knew the intention behind his suggestion.

Nicole smiled back to him with a mock-warmth, "After we eat, yes."

She wasn't going to indulge him now.

The pair walked arm-in-arm through the various passages of the hotel, following the signs to the dining room. Each lane within the floor was lit in a comfortable yellow glow as sunshine peered through soft, golden curtains. It gave the halls a definite atmosphere of warmth. Nicole always enjoyed her stay at this hotel; the staff were always friendly without being too attentive, and the food was good. Nicole did notice that there wasn't the usual smell of the kitchen beckoning her along the hallway, but she figured that there might be some inconveniences she would need to endure in the aftermath of the storm.  
The lights were off, too. Thankfully the nearby windows still cast enough light around to help their journey.

Nathan tugged on her arm as he joined her in the march. Whether he was trying to put himself ahead, or whether he was just hungry, Nicole couldn't tell. Not that she felt it was important as to which one of the pair was ahead in the walk to the kitchen, but Nicole knew the value in letting Nathan feel like he was in charge. A little went a long way with him.

They approached the dining room, where breakfast would usually be served, however instead of a room humming with the bleary conversations of guests, the pair was met with a cold emptiness. The seats were still stacked in the corner, and the tables were unmade. There were no noises coming from the kitchen, and not a single member of the hotel's staff walked over to greet them. The thick carpet was dimpled in places where the seats would have normally sat.

Nathan released Nicole from his arm and began to search around the room. He lifted his head to try glancing into the kitchen through the small windows of the double doors at the opposite side of the room.

"I can't see anyone." Nathan said. His voice sounded around the odd acoustics of the abandoned room, the unset furniture not absorbing his voice. As he finished his sentence, Nicole started to feel even more aware of the silence. There were usually other guests having breakfast at this time of morning, so it struck her as strange that there wasn't anyone else in the room, searching for their own meal.

"So, no one is in the kitchen at all?" Nicole asked, hinting for Nathan to go look.

"I couldn't see anyone." Nathan replied.

"You can't see all the way in from here." She said, "Go look in there and see."

"You don't just walk into a kitchen in a restaurant." Nathan reasoned.

"Why not?"

"We're not allowed back there." Nathan stated.

Nicole sighed, "Just look. What's going to happen? This place is empty, and I'm sure they don't mind if people are just curious as to where the food is."

"You clearly haven't met a chef's ego," Nathan said, "You don't cross a chef's ego; they have sharp knives back there."

Nicole let out a frustrated, "Ugh" and stormed to the kitchen doors, shoving through them with the gusto of a storm. The doors burst open as she crossed into the kitchen, swinging back on their heavy-springed hinges. The sound of the doors was noticeable in the eerie silence of the dining room. Where they would haven typically been inaudible over the quiet humming noise of chatting guests, in the silence of the desolated dining room the gentle brush of well-oiled, metal-on-metal hinges comparatively bellowed.

Nicole scanned the kitchen, looking for any signs of movement. Sun streamed in from a nearby window over the large sink, but the rest of the room was shrouded in shadows from the lack of electric lights. There were numerous spot lights over the kitchen, but each of them were doused from the lack of power.

Spying nearby switches, Nicole flicked all of them downward to allow the flow of electricity to the lights, only to have the expected result. Nothing.

"Hello?" Nicole called.

Silence.

The kitchen was still clean from the previous night's scrubbing. All the oil bottles were neatly arranged on shelves with the labels facing outward where the kichenhands could see them. Saucepans, frying pans and other implements hung from hooks around various benches. Apart from the emptiness, the room seemed normal for a well-maintained, and efficient kitchen.

"Hello?" Nicole called again, as if the second call would yield a better result.

"No one's in there!" Nathan called from the dining room.

"Thank you!" Nicole called back in sarcastic appreciation.

"Let's just go to a cafe nearby!" Nathan suggested, his voice growing exasperated.

Nicole remained confused. She retrieved her smartphone from her jacket pocket and looked at the time. For a moment she thought that perhaps she had the time wrong, and that her phone had woken her up early. Perhaps if the phone couldn't get any signal, then perhaps it wouldn't update the time properly.

The diagnosis felt right in Nicole's head.

"What time is it?" Nicole called to Nathan.

There was a momentary pause as Nathan checked his own phone, "Seven thirty!" he called back. It was about the same time that Nicole had showing on her own phone. She looked up at the walls and scanned about the room, eventually finding a clock, which also displayed the same time that the duo had on their phones.

"Well, we're not too early, it seems." She said, half to herself and half to the kitchen, as though the void itself had ears.

Nicole glanced about the abandoned room, feeling some frustration grow within her. She understood that the storm was unprecedented, and that the full impact it would have was an unknown quantity, but she held more faith in the people of the city. She felt sure that the city wouldn't be swayed by a major weather event, and could continue on its business, uninterrupted and resolute.

And ultimately able to bring her breakfast.

Nicole sighed to herself, knowing she was being unreasonable, reminding herself that her lack of immediate food was just a mere inconvenience. She pushed back through the swinging double doors, to see Nathan on the far side of the room, staring out of one of the windows, downward toward the street.

"I can't see anyone outside." Nathan said.

"I'm sure we can find someone to cook us breakfast." Nicole said, "You mentioned a cafe?"

Nathan brightened at Nicole's agreement with his suggestion, "I know a place." he said.
Chapter 3

The technician woke in the small, grey room. The bed upon which he had slept was thin, but soft enough for him to get a small kip. The security guard, Justine, had granted him access to the sick bay in the facility, deeming the weather outside far too dangerous for him to drive home. The ferocity at which the bits of nearby trees had flicked at the windows confirmed to the technician that Justine was right.

"It's a bed, and no one else is gonna use it," Justine had said to him from behind the plexiglass, catching him before he tried to depart the building. She had occasionally lifted her slightly frustrated gaze from screen of her smartphone, "You might as well take shelter here."

The technician had done the work he'd wanted to do to the network. The effects of his efforts would have been known to a large portion of the city immediately, many easily attributing the problems they were experiencing as part of the raging storm.

In the gloom of morning, the technician stared up at the ceiling in the cold, grey room, the technician had no knowledge on whether the power was out, or the extent of the damage resulting from his work. The sick bay was bereft of any feature, apart from a bed, walls and a door. The room's purpose was simple, and the furnishings reflected that simplicity. The room was lit in the dim blue of light bleed from other areas of the building. The technician eventually worked up the requisite effort to rise from the sheets of the bed before reaching over to retrieve his watch that he had placed on the floor.

It was seven-thirty.

He reached over to his bag of belongings to retrieve his phone, a modest, old-style candy bar phone that was rudimentary in appearance but robust in build. If there were any missed calls, or any messages, the screen would display a pixelated mass of words to that effect.

The phone's screen was blank, save for a battery gauge that showed it was three-quarter full. The technician mentally patted himself on the back for remembering to charge his phone a few days ago.

He went about gathering his belongings and pulling himself together for the day ahead. While his phone was blank and silent, he knew that there would be a mountain of paperwork awaiting him back at the office. Besides, he needed to find a way to justify why he needed to be inside the data centre that night - job requests weren't going to fabricate themselves.

Outside the sick room, the technician saw that the halls were painted the same dim light that had greeted him upon awakening. The typical thrum of air conditioning couldn't be heard, the silence amplifying the noise of his own footsteps through the corridors. He weaved his way past the offices and meeting rooms, eventually finding the security station at the front of the building.

The technician was surprised to see the desk unoccupied. He had expected a new face at the security point, as the guard changeover occurred at seven o'clock. The station's computer was off, and the desk was still covered with half-completed paperwork. To the side was a smartphone.

The technician thought it curious that someone's phone would be left unattended, but then figured that inside a facility as secure as the data centre, the guards wouldn't consider theft a major problem.

The technician spied a door to the side of the security station. Its window was tinted dark, denying any prying eyes from seeing within. He approached the door and tapped on the glass, the sound of his rapping knuckle thudding with a hollow tone. There was no reply.

"Hello?" he asked the door.

Still no reply.

He returned to the security desk, looking for any clue as to who else was in the building with him. He needed to sign out from the facility, and that couldn't be done without security acknowledging his exit. He looked to the lonely smartphone on the desk, reaching over to give the device's solitary button a gentle push. Immediately the screen glowed, emblazoning the time, date and a photograph of Justine and a child, presumably hers. They smiled warmly to the technician through the screen. The phone belonged to her.

It was unusual that she was still at the facility at this time of the morning. The technician mused the various possibilities on why she was still at the compound, and why her shift hadn't changed over yet.

Perhaps the relieving guard was running late, he thought.

He looked about the desk, searching for anything which could help him pass the time. A magazine, or yesterday's paper. Anything which could help distract him while he waited for the literal gate keepers. He again regarded the security guard's smartphone on the desk, and the technician briefly lamented that he hadn't joined the majority of people who spent their downtime reading about events and news on their technology. It wasn't that he didn't agree with it, or that he saw no value in it, but rather that his regular method of using the newspaper had served him well, and there was little reason to change.

Some movement outside the window caught the technician's eye. He walked over to the large panes of glass, near the sliding exit door and peered out. Beyond the window he could see the courtyard and the turnstile across the way at the fence. The ground looked sodden from the previous night's storm, and branches and leaves were scattered about as evidence of weather's anger. He saw the movement again, but it was beyond the gate. A person was walking in the vacant lot opposite the data centre. Inspecting the figure closer, the technician immediately recognised the shape. It was Justine. She was was walking slowly amid the weeds on the vacant lot, looking upward.

The technician hit the button next to the door, which allowed the magnets to disengage the lock. The door clicked, but did not move. The technician looked upward and saw the magnetic mechanism that would lock the door. There was another click as the magnet latched the door closed. The power was out, it seemed, but the facility's backup power was keeping the security system and locks operating. The technician again pressed the exit button to release the door, quickly heaving the sliding door open before the latch could trap him inside again. The door was stubborn in its opening, resisting his pulls with an odd strength. As the technician forced himself through the opening, the door hushed closed behind him.

"Hey!" He called to Justine, absently brushing his shirt as if to wipe away the pressure he'd felt from the door.

She didn't reply, continuing to stroll slowly about the vacant lot, her head still tilted upward toward the sky.

"Is there a way you can get me out?" The technician called, "I'm kinda locked in, and I need to get moving!" He reached the turnstile and gave the gate a shove. It too was locked, but there was no release button nearby. The release had to be done from the security desk inside.

Justine didn't seem to give much care to the technician's predicament, instead preferring to easily swagger around the vacant lot, treading softly over the various weeds and flowers. Her cavalier stroll amid the flora started to frustrate the technician.

"Hey, Justine! _You_ might have nowhere to be, but I got shit to do!" the technician growled at the relaxing guard through the fence. He knew it was uncharacteristic to be so demanding of Justine, but he was starting to grow agitated. He needed to get to the office to start covering his tracks. As he said the words, Justine stopped what she was doing and turned with slowness to face him.

"Hi!" he called, somewhat sarcastically, but a little relieved at the acknowledgement, "I can't be stuck here all day!"

The security guard tilted her head to the side, curious about the technician's call. After a brief moment, she started toward the fence, slowly stepping, approaching the technician.

"Yeah, take your fucking time." The technician muttered to himself. He chastised himself for being annoyed at Justine – she'd been so lovely to him before. His hands bunched and unclamped, revealing his unease and impatience.

The guard seemed to sense his consternation, but in response to his growling, she lifted her arms upward from her sides, holding them parallel to the ground.

"Hug?" Justine asked as she approached.

The technician frowned in stark confusion, shaking his head slightly. He barely knew this security guard, so for her to offer such a forward gesture discomforted him. He pulled back from the fence a little as she approached.

"No, I just need your help to open the gate and let me out." He said, immediately shifting his tone to politeness. Such a motion from Justine disarmed him, and his annoyance quickly washed away.

The guard continued forward, her arms still outstretched. Her approach was steady and slow. Casual. As she drew closer, the technician noticed that her face, particularly under her eyes and nose, seemed covered with a light yellow dusting. She wore an expression of calm, with her lips curled upward in a very subtle smile, although her eyes stared off to target a sight far behind the technician.

She drew closer to the technician, "Hug?" she asked again.

She arrived at the fence, her arms starting to reach through the gaps between the thick bars. The technician pulled back just as her hands reached toward him. She almost seemed to lunge at the last step, clanging into the large bars with her torso.

"Hug." Justine stated, her hands flailing toward the technician as she reached through the fence.

The technician stumbled back out of the reach of her grasping fingers, aghast at her behaviour.

"What the..." he blurted out, an instinctive response to surprise, and confused at the odd display. He took a moment to ensure he was clear of her grip as she reached, before inspecting Justine for any visible ailments on her person that would explain her actions. He looked at the security guard's face and head for any sign of trauma, but her scalp and face revealed neither blood nor matted hair. Justine remained hard-pressed against the fence, her arms outstretched toward the technician and her hands gesturing with fingers, encouraging him to come closer. Her mouth had the slightest upward tick in a serene smile yet her eyes were cast with the pallor of emptiness.

The technician calmed himself for a moment before speaking, "Are you alright?" he asked the security guard.

"Hug?" Justine answered, the question mark inflection easing out of her mouth with a casual grace that suggested she was relaxed, although the way her body was hard-pressed against the fence belied any facade of calm.

"No thanks." the technician said.

"Hug." Justine said again, still gesturing toward the technician, trying to entice him closer.

"I need to get out of the compound." the technician told her again, hoping that the repetition of the request somehow reached her, "Can you tell me where I can release the gate?"

Justine showed no flicker of understanding. There was no external sign that she was, in any way, recognising that the technician was even there. She might have responded to his words, but her calm features and distant eyes suggested that she wasn't even aware of her surroundings. Her torso and shoulders bounced off the bars of the fence as she tried desperately to reach inside for the embrace she offered.

The technician raised his hands up and clasped them behind his head as he contemplated his situation. Whatever ailment the security guard was currently suffering, he knew that he couldn't rely upon her to help his predicament.

A dog barked in the distance, to the far side of the vacant lot. There was a street beyond that plot of land, and further on was residential houses. The data centre was in an upper-middle class suburb, so the area was usually quiet and bereft of vehicle traffic. The technician had even taken some lunch breaks in the area, as some of the parks were well-shaded, and the local food outlets were reliable – if unremarkable.

The dog's barking increased in temperament, quickly firing off loud demands at whatever was disturbing their territory. The technician scanned his eyes around the area, for a moment forgetting the clamouring security guard and looking toward the street.

A few figures appeared in the distance, walking slowly along the pathway that flanked the street. There were four of them, each walking with an easy pace. Every now and then, one would look upward at the sky, sometimes turn a full three-sixty circle with their arms out and palms upward.

"Hey!" the technician called across the vacant lot. The group barely registered that a noise had been made. Growing annoyed, the technician called again, "Hey! Help! I need some help here!"

From the distance, the technician could see the group stop their slow walk and they all turned to face the data centre's compound.

Relieved that he had caught someone else's attention, the technician beckoned for them to come over, "I need to get out! Can someone help?"

The quad of figures started to approach, moving slowly across the vacant lot. Each step they took seemed to kick up a tuft of yellow around their feet. Even though they were focussed on their approach to the technician, they still took a few moments to stare upward to the sky, allowing the sunshine to descend onto their faces.

The technician grew concerned as they approached, feeling an escalating disquiet at how their behaviour closely mimicked Justine's. The concern grew with each successive step they took, getting closer and closer. He started to notice more details about the figures as they approached. They were all younger and dressed casually in sweat pants, tank tops or loose shirts. Two men and two women. Getting within ten metres of the data centre compound, the technician then noticed the light dusting of yellow on their skin and noses.

"Can someone get some help?" He asked, worry growing in his question.

The approaching group then spoke to reply to the technician, each one firing off a single-word, the sound eerie as it emanated from the many mouths. They spoke not quite in unison, but still in a surprising uniformity, echoing each other.

"Hug?"

The pair emerged from the hotel, pausing for a moment to review the scene outside. Due to the elevators being out of operation, Nicole's feet were protesting from the descent down the stairs. She lamented that her shoes weren't of the more comfortable variety, however she seldom considered packing her trainers when she knew that her driver would be on hand to transport her wherever she needed to be.

Her phone had saved her planned schedule for the day, but as the phone network was not working she knew that if there were any additions that came in overnight, her smartphone's calendar wouldn't have updated. However, Nicole knew the pattern of things that occurred after every major weather event.

Media here. Colleagues there. Public onslaught on why enough wasn't done. Et cetera.

Enough was never done.

Nicole wasn't surprised to see that no vehicle was waiting for her outside the hotel. The chauffeur wouldn't typically show up without some kind of heralding from Nicole, but with the phone network seemingly out of order, the driver wouldn't know to come fetch. Besides, Nicole was more concerned about getting fed. Nathan clearly felt the same, as both their stomachs grimaced with emptiness.

They walked the street in silence, taking in their alien surroundings. The usually busy street was empty, barring some cars that were neatly parked parallel to the kerb. Nearby businesses were still darkly asleep, absent their typical pulsing and flashing lights, their bulbs unfed from the supply of electricity they craved to do their job.

"Power must be out." Nathan observed, some emptiness in his tone. His voice seemed hollow as the street bounded the sound of his words back at their ears.

Nicole didn't reply, continuing to walk along the street, searching for any signs of an open business that made food. She could have mocked Captain Nathan Obvious, but the tease was neither required nor productive when compared with the desire to feed.

"What if nowhere is open?" Nathan asked, both to Nicole and to the world around them, obviously needing to hear the sound of something, anything, amid the eerie streets.

"Parliament House isn't far from here. They always have a good meal." Nicole started before her voice trailed off. Parliament House's cafeteria was just as reliant upon electricity as anywhere else, and may not necessarily have food ready either. But the staff there were always reliable. They could make a sandwich at least.

A lone piece of paper skittered across the street, ticking along the asphalt before sliding into the kerb, where it rested.

"Or maybe back home." She added.

"There is probably a convenience store nearby. Maybe they use a generator to keep their fridges going. They don't want to have their meat spoiled." Nathan offered. He winced with a subtle twitch as he saw Nicole's expression.

Nicole didn't favour convenient food, even for basic sustenance. With her quick and intense job and lifestyle, such food offered her no value in terms of energy or nutrition. The one occasion in which she did have the quick and easy option, she loathed the consequent feeling of lethargy and bloat. She scanned her mind for any other alternatives from what Nathan suggested, but her mind could only rest on one.

"There should be a Recovery Centre at Central Station." Nicole said, "They might have something there. We keep gas bottles for barbeques, so they should be able to cook without power."

Nathan nodded in approval, his eyes glazing over for a second, lost in thought.

"And that would be a good photo opportunity for the Minister, right?" he started, immediately switching his tone to that of a news announcer, "The Minister mixing with the affected people, she too a victim of the natural disaster that befell the city."

Nicole smirked, although offered Nathan no confirmation that he might have had a point, "Give it a rest," she said, "can't we wait until after the clean up to play this game? God knows, people might actually be suffering because of damage caused by the storm." Despite her rebuke of Nathan's cynicism, she still wore a smile, "Besides, we need to feed."

Nathan agreed, following the notion with a single word. A guttural moan that elongated a single vowel.

"Fooooood..."

Central Station was a large structure, with enormous panes of glass that curved in a single, elegant arc across its facade. In front of the station was a large roundabout for managing vehicular traffic, which was centred by an enormous fountain. The fountain, much like the surrounding streets, was in a state of dormancy, robbed of its capacity to gush. Roads poked out from the roundabout, running across the front of the station, and another one stretching in a straight street away from the imposing structure. The Central Station was meant to be a point of welcome for visitors to the city; a grand hello to weary travellers who arrived by the numerous trains from across the nation, and from the airport. It served well as a hub, and was the first location considered for a Recovery Centre. Almost every major transport method in the city lead to this point, which made it perfect for helping the most people.

It was also a very visible point for politicians; close to Parliament House, which meant that they could use the building to announce new infrastructure projects before getting into their cars and going home.

The pair stood a few hundred metres away from the station, looking for any movement between them and the enormous station. Nicole had expected to see some queues and activity, but she grew concerned that the station looked as lifeless as the static fountain before it.

"Where is everyone?" Nathan mused, again speaking to both his partner next to him and the void around them.

Nicole, too, wondered where everyone was. They had walked a number of blocks from the hotel to the train station, and there was no sign of people. Nicole understood that the storm would have impeded some folks from getting to their workplaces or homes, but the thought of an entire neighbourhood being empty was eerie.

She looked to Nathan, "Did you get word out about the Recovery Centres and where people can go for help?"

Nathan shrugged a single shoulder, "I was with you, remember? Besides, I sent the notes back to the office before I got into your car last night." he said.

"So, you didn't then?" Nicole asked, the accusation obvious.

"Someone would have taken care of it." Nathan replied, "I gave the office all the important information. We have a few interns who would have loved the chance to write the article."

"Do you always give important stories to the interns?" Nicole asked with some incredulity, although she too knew the benefits of such "delegation." Someone, somewhere, would happily do it. So long as the correct name was attached to the work, it didn't really matter.

Nathan offered no reply.

"I guess I should go check that everything is set up, at least. Someone surely would have organised everything by now." Nicole said.

"You mean you don't know?" Nathan said with some sharpness, "Do you always leave important tasks to the underlings?" His retort was a clear shot at her accusation of his hand-off to the interns. She didn't concede audibly that he might have had a point. It was true that she didn't know the particulars and minutiae of how the Recovery Centres would work. Those details were always handled by the respective departments. Her role was to communicate and coordinate. Not hand out blankets and drinking water.

Well, unless the Public Relations section suggested she should.

The pair began their approach to the station. Nicole's heels clipped along the pavement, a sound which echoed around the bare streets. She again lamented not having comfortable shoes. Nathan also seemed haunted by the isolation the pair found themselves in. He glanced around the various windows, probably searching for any indication that they weren't alone. Nicole could tell he was itching to say something, but he stayed mercifully mute as they strode toward Central Station. The tall glass panes grew and grew as they approached, and Nicole took a moment to marvel at their size. She knew the structure was imposing, but she never appreciated its size until now. The desolate streets and the grand building made Nicole feel diminutive.

The glass doors of the station were dark. Nicole peered in through the panes, still searching for the elusive existence of life. Inside the grand foyer of the station, Nicole could make out the various boxes of supplies, and some Government-branded banners that hadn't yet been erected.

Nathan finally spoke, clearly unable to contain his quiet any more, "Strange that there's no homeless here." he said.

"What?" Nicole asked, an instinctual response she had whenever someone spoke when she was only half-listening.

"There's usually a number of homeless people here." Nathan explained, pointing up and down the station's frontage, "I dunno. They're usually here."

"They probably needed to find better shelter." Nicole suggested.

"Perhaps," Nathan agreed tentatively, "although opening up Central for them to take shelter might have been a nice gesture." His jab not exactly subtle.

Nicole grew impatient with Nathan's barbs. Just as she was about to turn to give him a sharp verbal slap, some movement from inside the station caught her eye. She tossed Nathan a hot glare before turning her attention back to the glass door. She pressed her forehead against the cold pane, cupping her hands around her eyes to stop the light reflection from obscuring her vision. The glass fogged a little from her respiration.

She looked back and forth, scanning across the large foyer to find the movement she saw. The large concourse stretched out beyond her vision, with only vague details visible from the limited amount of light streaming in from the ceiling skylight. The boxes for the Recovery Centre were in the middle of the floor, circled buy its own pool of light.

"What? What is it?" Nathan asked.

"There's someone inside." Nicole said. She rapped her knuckles on the glass door.

There. Nicole saw movement. A single man wearing a courier uniform was crossing the foyer, lit by the soft light that was beaming in through the giant windows on the roof. Nicole tapped again on the glass, "Hey! Can you let us in? We're here for the Recovery Centre!" she called.

The courier seemed unperturbed by the plight of the pair outside. He strolled slowly across the large pool of soft light, looking upward at the enormous skylight, as though enjoying a warm shower.

Nicole's stomach growled. Nathan's also seemed to protest the lack of sustenance. He joined Nicole at the door, beginning to bang on the glass. The door wobbled in its tracks, bouncing on its rails with loud protest, "Hey! Can you help us get some food?" Nathan called.

The courier seemed oblivious, continuing his easy, almost graceful, stroll across the foyer.

Another figure grew visible from the gloom within the foyer. It was a slender young woman in a polo shirt and comfortable jeans. On the breast of the polo shirt, Nicole could just make out the emblem of the Government and State; a bird with its wings held aloft, creating a circular motif with its outstretched arms.

Nicole rapped again on the glass pane, calling to the station occupant. The woman seemed to not notice Nicole's demands for attention, instead stepping with easy grace over to one of the boxes of supplies that were stacked neatly near the banner. She bent forward and tugged the box open with nary effort nor noise, and reached inside to obtain a single bottle of water.

As she retrieved the bottle, from across the foyer, the courier turned to look at her before starting his slow approach to the boxes.

Nicole started to grow concerned, and knocked again on the door for help.

Then another figure appeared from the gloom; a man in a simple suit. It looked half-crumpled and the fellow looked quite dishevelled, but he too moved with in slow but smooth motions, approaching the woman in the polo shirt. He reached outward to her, continuing his odd and steady steps on approach to the boxes of supplies.

Then another figure emerged from within the dark shroud.

And another.

Person after person appeared inside the station, trudging toward the supply boxes, ignoring any semblance of queue or order. They were various in appearance and size, wearing either casual and easy fit clothes, or uniforms for their workplaces. Nicole's troubled sensation grew and she banged on the doors with her fists, "Keep an order, everyone!" she called, "There's enough to go around!" Her fists pounded with merciless vigour on the doors, as though her arms wished to excavate through the barrier itself.

Inside, the mob approached the woman at the boxes, moving to surround her. Nicole and Nathan were now calling at the group to stop, yelling and appealing to the group to be orderly. Nicole's concerned turned to full panic as the woman was eventually consumed by the mob. Nicole yelled in distress. She pleaded, pushing at the doors desperately to get them to open. She cursed the blackout. She cursed at the mob.

A minute passed as the group formed around the supply boxes. It felt like an eternity to Nicole. She was silent, shocked, and wishing desperately that the woman hadn't been trampled. Helping people shouldn't be risky, Nicole thought, but desperate people did desperate things. Nicole strained her eyes, wishing that she could help, but she felt hopeless, feeling for the kind woman who just wanted to help.

But after that minute, the mob turned from the boxes and began to walk away. Each of them held a single bottle of water, and they all calmly sauntered away.

Nicole and Nathan stopped yelling and banging on the doors. They both pressed against the glass, searching for any trace of the woman in the polo shirt, fearing that she had been crushed under the rush; albeit the calmest rush that Nicole had ever seen.

The mob dispersed slowly, although each person remained inside the station, sauntering around, lost in an aimless delirium. The supply boxes became visible, and standing next to them, as calm as before, was the woman in the polo shirt. Her face was still serene, and she too held a single bottle of water.

Nicole breathed a sigh, her panic washing away to relief as she saw that the woman was safe and unharmed.

It was a wonder that she hadn't been trampled under the desperate feet of people who wanted free water. There were no queues or barriers in place to guide the people where to go, yet every person in the mob seemed to get what they needed, quickly and quietly.

To Nicole's surprise, Nathan resumed pounding on the glass, "Hey! Can we get some water out here? We're starving!"

The woman inside turned to regard the pair, a small but distinct smile across her face. Despite her pleasant expression, she seemed to stare past Nicole and Nathan, empty and vague. Light beamed down on her from the skylight in the roof of the station, giving her a pale and ghostly appearance. She stood there, motionless for a few seconds.

Nathan pounded again on the doors again with indignation, "Where's _our_ water?" he called.

"Patience." Nicole told him firmly, "I'm sure we can get something if we can figure out how to get inside."

Nathan banged on the door again, not out of panic or desperation, but out of frustration, "No! We need water too! Isn't someone going to help us?" He threw his body against the glass, making the pane rattle again on its rail.

Nicole started to call to the woman inside, beginning to explain who they were and what they needed, "I'm the Minister for..." she began, but she stopped as the woman inside moved her mouth. Nicole couldn't make out what was said, but the woman raised her arms up and held her palms outward. She began to slowly step toward the pair.

"About time!" Nathan called.

Inside, Nicole noticed a few more faces turning toward them. They too moved their mouths to say something inaudible, stepping forward with a slow pace, raising their arms up in a manner similar to that of the first woman. A creeping sensation began to fill Nicole as she viewed the odd unity of their movements, and the similarities of their behaviour. She backed away from the door a couple steps, "Nathan?" she started.

Nathan replied not to Nicole but to the approaching group inside, "Yeah, we need some help opening the doors! I'm sure some of you have muscles under those shirts!"

"We should go, Nathan." Nicole said, the suggestion of trouble evident in her voice.

"Fuck that! We need water!" Nathan said, banging on the doors again.

"Let's get it from somewhere else." Nicole suggested.

"Why? There's water right here! _They_ got water!" Nathan blurted back.

As the group approached, more individuals joined in with their approach. The group of people was growing in size all walking with their arms up and palms out. Their moving mouths were making a noise, and amid the varied pitches and tenors of the voices, Nicole could finally distinguish the words. There was an upward inflection with each of their soft calls, almost like a moan, as they each asked the same word through the doors.

"Hug?"

Nathan banged hard on the doors, not seeming to be troubled by the approaching mob and their eerie similarities.

"Let's go, Nathan!" Nicole ordered, beginning to walk briskly away from the station, "We'll find water elsewhere!"

"But..." Nathan started, but he stopped as he was interrupted by the loud sound of a body slamming against the glass door.

A man wearing a jogging outfit was pressed up against the glass, his face visibly flattened against the transparent barrier. Others pushed in behind him, their palms pushing against the glass.

"Hug?" The jogger asked, his cheek not leaving the glass as he smeared his face on the door.

Nathan jumped away, cursing softly in surprise.

The mob was fully pressed up against the doors now, contained inside their waterless aquarium, their mouths moving to ask the same question over and over as they attempted to paw through.

"I think you're right." Nathan finally conceded.

Nicole nodded, continuing her brisk pace away from the station. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment to survey the strange scene, seeing multiple faces and palm prints pressed into the pane. Normally she might have had a smart quip for Nathan on how slow he was to react to the situation, but she pushed any notions of teasing aside and diverted her full attention to the task of getting away.
Chapter 4

The technician sat perched upon one of the outside picnic tables that the data centre provided to on-site employees. The yard in which the tables were placed was bereft of any real landscaping, apart from some thick half-sodden pavers, a number of large nondescript trees and a barely-kept garden, circled by a number of sizeable rocks. It was a rudimentary stone border to the garden that seemed more an afterthought than a serious attempt as creating an aesthetically pleasing visual.

He surveyed his surroundings, in particular watching the odd people that were now slowly circling the compound. They presented no clear or immediate danger to him, having stopped their uniform utterances of the word "hug", and had retired to an aimless meander along the fence's perimeter.

Eventually, the technician figured, they will need to eat and will go home.

He considered for a moment his trepidation at leaving the complex, even if he hadn't been locked inside from a security door that had stubbornly refused to release from the blackout. He did retain some relief that the magnets that locked the turnstile in place had proved to be robust against the shoving people outside. There must have been a power supply on-site that kept the essential items working in the event of blackout.

Strange that the essential items didn't seem to include lights or computer power. Just the security doors.

The technician mused on that last observation, but figured that the decision was made after someone crunched the numbers and determined that the risk of security being compromised was a greater expense than the risk of computers not having Solitaire working for the guards.

Beside the technician squat an ashtray, a cluster of butts lay scattered inside its dish, faded from the sunlight or matted to the base from damp. He hadn't smoked for years now, but in this odd predicament the technician found himself craving a single puff. Whether it was a coping mechanism, or whether he was needing to fill something within himself with a vice of some kind, he couldn't tell. He normally had a coffee whenever such feelings arose, but that wasn't really an option that was available at the moment.

He leaned back, still perched on the picnic table. He again surveyed the surrounds, looking past the walking individuals who now seemed to be oblivious to his presence. The ground around their feet puffed up small clouds of pollen from the grass with each step they took. Springtime was terrible for allergies, but this was the first time the technician had noticed peoples' footsteps flicking up little yellow clouds. The vacant lot opposite the data centre was replete with weeds and various yellow flowers. The technician wasn't familiar with the kinds of flowers they were – daisies perhaps – but that kind of flora was a regular sight on any plot of ground that wasn't properly maintained with the hawk-eyed vigour of a master gardener. This season typically saw pockets of the city fill up with a swirl of yellow and green.

Although storms of the magnitude of the previous night's battering weren't what he would consider to be normal for this time of year.

The technician paused his thoughts for a moment as he looked past the fenceline to see one of the walkers in the vacant lot stroll easily over to the middle of the patch. From all of the uniform people treading with nonchalance around the compound, the one centred on the vacant lot caught the technician's attention. He was a medium-sized guy with a bit of a paunch for a stomach, accentuated by the clothes he wore. They were ill-fitted and did nothing to disguise his stature.

The walker seemed to glance about for a moment, as though lost momentarily. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and glanced at its screen for a moment. He seemed confused for a number of seconds before re-pocketing the device. The technician thought of calling out to him, as he had a fleeting thought that perhaps there was one person in this city not lost in the same daze as the rest of the sauntering mob. Just as the technician began to yell, the man bent forward at the waist and looked down toward the ground. He stayed bent, lowering his face as much as his figure would allow, taking exaggerated notice of some unseen item that the technician couldn't ascertain.

The man reached toward the ground slowly, his chubby palms pawing the ground for a moment before they flicked with a deft upward tug. He straightened his back, his eyes never leaving the object in his grasp; a single yellow flower, not unlike the commonly seen weeds around the city. The man stared at the flower, inspecting it closer and closer as he twisted it between his thumb and forefinger.

He then lifted the flower to his nose and took a long, extended inhalation of its odour. His eyes closed over in appreciation and he nasal-drank the scent of the plant. He let the flower sit beneath his nostrils for a second before slowly lowering the petals away from his face. His chest slowly deflated as he exhaled, the eyes remaining closed. His face was still tilted upward toward the sunlight as a slow smile began to extend across. His arms lowered with a surprising ease and grace before hanging at his sides. The flower dropped from his fingers.

The man began to walk again, crossing the vacant lot, stepping slowly and with the easy grace of the other dazed individuals that plodded the data centre's perimeter.

The technician noted the brief oddity amid the uniformity of the others.

A slight breeze graced the technicians face, wafting the scent of stale tobacco and chemicals from the ashtray into his nostrils. He snorted to get the acrid, stale, but yet familiar, stench from his face, before considering what he'd just witnessed; the slightly-confused walker stopping to smell the flower before resuming his serene stroll.

Perhaps, the technician thought as he watched the man become overwhelmed with vagueness after smelling the flower, he should be thankful for the awful stench coming from the cigarette butt dish?

The sound of their footsteps bounded through the empty streets, returning from the surrounding concrete to their ears, heightening the foreboding sense of isolation. The street they walked upon was tight, with only a narrow footpath to serve as a bordering line between car thoroughfare and building. Side alleys stretched off from the main street like dark tunnels. Typically these alleys were lit with store lights and heaved with chic youngsters clutching their favourite beverages, but now the enclosed street offered no inviting trait.

Nicole's feet ached and her stomach growled with indignation. She wanted to take her shoes off, but the previous night's winds had blown all kinds of debris over the urban environment. She preferred to have aching feet over having aching feet with rocks and leaves stuck in them.

Nathan said very little after their escape from the train station, offering only superficial and absent commentary on what they had seen.

"What'd got into them?" he had asked, to which Nicole hadn't replied.

"There's something wrong with them." He had observed. Again, Nicole had offered nothing to agree nor disagree with him. She was confused, also trying to stitch together her thoughts on what they'd witnessed.

The people in the station hadn't appeared to be a danger to either Nathan or Nicole, and the woman in the polo shirt certainly didn't seem fazed by the mob. They had all worn the same gentle smile. A smile that would typically seem friendly and inviting if offered by an individual, but strangely disquieting when expressed across a dozen people.

Nicole's feet still hurt.

They continued through the streets, lost in thought and listening to the echoes of their footsteps around the cold and empty lanes.

Nathan then broke the silence, "They couldn't possibly be the only people around here" again offering an observation that was obvious, but delivered with the drama of someone desperate.

"We'll see who else we can find." Nicole replied.

"Where do we go now?" Nathan asked.

"My stuff is back at the hotel." Nicole said, "No one would have collected it by now, I'm sure."

"I don't think anyone is going to be collecting it any time soon." Nathan mused.

Nicole could feel an impatience burbling away inside her. Regardless of what they had seen, she had to assume that most of the city was still operating, and that she needed to be at work. The city seldom slept, even after severe weather events such as the one that had pelted the city that night.

"Shouldn't you go to work?" She asked Nathan.

He said nothing as he considered the question, "Maybe. Depends if I can be arsed."

Nicole snorted, half-amused and half-derisory, happy to have a reason to move her thoughts to something else, "You're coasting." she said, "You've gotten to the job you've wanted and now you're phoning it in."

Nathan's face twisted into a look of consternation, clearly not appreciating the rebuke, "I'm good at what I do." he offered in meek retort, "I'd be fired if I wasn't."

Nicole said nothing more. Parliament House wasn't too far away from where they were. It wasn't a short walk, but still walking distance, if one had the proper footwear. Nicole's feet pulsed as a reminder of her current improper shoes. She kept a set of comfortable trainers at her office at Parliament House, and the House canteen was always operating with fresh and cheap food.

Both Nathan and Nicole's stomachs gurgled yet again from their hunger, a sound so prominent in the silent streets that it nearly echoed in the street.

"Food..." Nathan said in a fashion not dissimilar to earlier, elongating the vowel sound of the word, clearly yearning for the taste of something.

Nicole looked to him with a sternness that she usually reserved for sitting in Parliament, and usually when addressing the "other side". She reached into the inner pocket of the suit jacket she wore and retrieved her access pass to show him, "Promise to not talk anymore, and I'll let you into Parliament so we can get fed." She held up her access card to highlight her point, letting the lanyard on which it was attached casually swing beneath her grip.

Nathan stood upright to attention, as if to express that the access pass was his sole reason for existence, and that he dare not offend it. He reached up to his mouth and pulled his thumb and forefinger across his lips to signify the closure of a zipper. He flourished the gesture with a salute.

Nicole sighed.

They had a long walk ahead of them.

Parliament House was the kind of building that lowed its grandeur like a fat cow. Enormous pillars rose from the foundations to support an ornate roof with clusters of detailed carvings scattered at their peaks. Latin words were etched into many of the pillars themselves, the grooves of which had gathered decades of grit and discolour that refused to clean off. A dozen smooth steps, as smooth as the pillars, lifted up to a landing that was partially hidden by the giant support beams that stretched high above. The steps were a popular gathering place for school outings and protesters, but were more often simply occupied by patient ministerial drivers, or journalists and their cameramen, waiting for their turn to approach a politician.

Today, the stairs were empty – not an unusual sight for Parliament at this time of the morning, and certainly not unusual considering the many streets of emptiness that the pair had observed.

Parliament House faced south. The rising sun hadn't yet seen fit to wash the old building with the warm rays of Spring, and the giant pillars bore the grey colour with exaggerated darkness. The vertical supports radiated with cold, dipping the air's temperature as the couple walked up the front stairs. Just beyond the pillars were a number of old timber doors, wood panels that were stained as deep as they were thick. The doors were at least thrice Nicole's age, and very much reflected an era in where people took great pride in their work, and that no expense was spared for those in the lofty offices of Representatives. Each time Nicole pushed against these doors, she marvelled at their heft, and the smooth grace at which they opened. The inertia from her shove would always billow the doors open that always gave her arrival a real sense of occasion.

She went to push the doors – as she always did – but she recoiled at the doors' refusal to acquiesce to her demand. She stared at the door with confusion before briefly checking the time on her phone. Nearly 9am. Parliament was always open early, and these particular doors permitted public entry. Just beyond the doors would be various security stations that only pass-holders could cross, filtering out the regular folk from those who were conducting business within.

There was a card-reader to the side, which permitted her use of her access pass – an allowance afforded her for any after-hours work she might have to do. She gave it a casual wave, to which it replied with a cheerful, confirming beep. Nicole heard the magnetic latch release, so she gave the door another purposeful shove. The door moved a little but thudded loudly as it ran into an obstacle on the other side.

Nathan seemed to share Nicole's confusion, "Still locked up?" he asked. It was again one of those annoying questions that professed the obvious and offered little in solution. Nicole tilted her head at him in a sardonic glance, to which he replied with the same gesture from before; that of zipping his mouth closed.

Nicole walked along the frontage of Parliament House, peering inside each window as she came across them. Each window was flanked by their own large, Corinthian-styled pillar, which necessitated a deep window sill. This made it difficult for her to peer inside, but the lack of indoor lighting only contributed to the cape of the gloom.

"Hello?" she called to one window, thinking that there should be someone inside who could help them in their situation, "I'm a Minister. I need to get in." She added.

She couldn't observe any movement inside.

Nathan walked in the opposite direction to Nicole, rapping on the windows as he went. He didn't call out, instead preferring to tap, tap, tap before cupping his hands over his eyes and peering in. Nicole continued walking to the next window and was about to call again before Nathan let out of startled yelp.

"Holy shit!" Nathan said.

"What? What's wrong?" Nicole asked, walking back to him with hurried steps.

"There's someone in there." Nathan said, pointing to the window.

"Oh good. What's wrong, then?"

"They just stared at me." Nathan offered, "It just freaked me out."

Nicole understood Nathan's trepidation. Considering what they had seen earlier, there was good cause to be wary. She turned to the window to peer. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness inside, but she could make out a single elderly face looking back at her. A familiar man's face, and it was looking back at her with the same expression of curiosity.

"Bernard?" Nicole asked the window.

The man's face relaxed as Nicole spoke, perhaps in relief.

Bernard was her party's Whip. An experienced veteran of the Chamber, who was always able to get the party into line. He had been most reliable as Whip, and was always getting results. He seemed to relish the position, and didn't seem to want to be anywhere else. He liked being in the thick of party room and ensuring that lines were toed. At his age, he didn't want anything more, having surrendered his ambition the moment he assumed that job.

"Hello, Nicole," Bernard replied through the glass, his voice muffled somewhat from the thick panes, "That is you, yes?"

"Of course," Nicole said, "I can't seem to get inside. Can you help us out? We're a bit hungry. Nothing is open and the storm seems to have wiped everything out."

Bernard's face twisted into one of confusion, "You've been outside for very long?" he asked.

"We left the hotel a little before eight," Nicole explained, not giving much effort to masking her relationship with Nathan, "and have been searching for food ever since. We tried Central Station..." Nicole said.

"Have you seen anyone else?" Bernard asked.

Nathan and Nicole looked to each other, asking each other silently to speak on their behalf. Eventually Nathan spoke up, "We saw many people at Central Station. It was strange."

Bernard backed away from the window a little at that news, "Did you speak to them?"

"They were on the other side of glass doors. We got out of there pretty quickly. It looked like they were trying to swarm us." Nathan explained.

Bernard visibly relaxed.

"What's going on?" Nicole asked Bernard, "The only people we've met have been acting really weird. Other than that, there's no one else around."

Bernard seemed to search around his mind for an answer, re-approaching the window, "In short, Nicole, I don't know what is going on," he said, "but it's not safe out there. You need to find somewhere, get supplies, and wait for help."

"What about here? Is there food here? We're starving!" Nicole said, "And I need to get some things from my office" Her voice ascended in some desperation. Her feet throbbed inside her shoes.

"I'll need to ask the party." Bernard said.

Nicole blinked in surprise, "The party? Wait, who else is there?" she demanded.

"Only a few of us. The Premier, Robert and Stephanie," Bernard replied, respectfully referring to the Premier by title, but notably calling the Minister for Health and the Minister for Sport by their first names, "but in the wake of what we've seen, we need to manage our risk, you see. We don't know what is causing the problems we have seen, and there's no way for us to know whether you both have been exposed."

Nicole raised an eyebrow at the last word, but Bernard continued on, "We haven't been able to contact anyone in Communicable Diseases, but we've decided to board up in here until we get news. Until then, we can't risk any contamination." He said.

Nathan frowned as he approached the window, "Contamination? What the fuck is going on here?"

"We don't know!" Bernard fired back with indignation, "But if you haven't been infected, your best bet is to isolate yourself from everyone and wait for an 'all-clear.'"

"Are we all in danger?" Nicole asked, starting to feel panic rising in her chest, "Come on, let us in!"

"I can't!" Bernard replied, "I can't risk it." his voice wavered a little, softening in desperation behind the glass pane, "I saw them. I saw them take Bridgette."

Bernard was referring to the Treasurer. She was an astute woman who was brilliant with numbers. She was masterful at making the mathematics and statistics behave on the papers, telling precisely the right story that she wanted them to speak. She was rigid in using the numbers, but easily able to turn them any direction she wanted. An over-expenditure suddenly turned into eager investment. A low result was an unfortunate anomaly. If she had any fault, it was her inability to relate to people on a personal level – which was probably a reason she was assigned a constituency that was party-faithful.

"What happened to her?" Nicole enquired, dreading the answer.

"They got her." Bernard said, as if the vague sentence explained everything.

"Who got her?" Nicole asked.

"They did. A group of them came here, wanting to get in. Bridgette said that she would go and address the group, and inform them where they could go to get help. At first we just thought they were regular people who wanted guidance, or at worst, some protesters who wanted their electricity back on." Bernard's voice continued to waver, "But as she went to announce what to do, they moved around her. I could tell she wasn't comfortable. She yelled at them to stay back, but they kept approaching her as they surrounded. She tried to bat them away with her bag, but they kept at her. I was inside, frozen to the spot. I couldn't help her." He lamented.

"What happened?" Nathan asked.

"She tried to get back inside, but it was too late. I watched her from inside. I didn't know what to do. But the group kept saying that word over and over before they grabbed her. Before I knew it, she was gone."

Nicole gasped, "They took her? Is she alright?"

Nicole could see Bernard shaking his head, his face a dimly lit orb floating in the gloom, "Whatever she is now, she's not the Bridgette we knew."

Nicole's memory flitted back to Central Station, and the similar mob they had seen in the station's foyer. The story that Bernard was relating seemed disturbing in its similarity to what they had seen, although Bridgette mustn't have had the luxury of a barrier between her and the mob. Before she spoke again, Nathan interjected.

"Hug? Did the group want a hug?" he asked. Nicole was curious of the same thing.

"Yes!" Bernard exclaimed, "It was horrible!"

"Central Station was full of people wanting the same." Nicole said, "It was most odd."

"Then you have seen them. You know why we're holed up in here." Bernard explained.

"Where is Bridgette now?" Nicole asked.

"She walked off with the group after they realised they couldn't get in here. Bridgette was so lost, she didn't even try to use her security pass to get in. They just pressed against the door, asking for hugs. Bridgette included. Me and the others moved a few cabinets to the door to block ourselves in, just in case the security magnet didn't hold." Bernard explained.

"So you have power?" Nathan asked.

"Just security systems." Bernard said, "And even then they won't last after the backup power goes."

Nicole nodded in understanding. Backup systems in Parliament House prioritised the occupant safety over any other system in the event of power outage.

"If we're in danger out here, we need to get in." Nicole reasoned again.

Bernard returned to his old script, "I can't. We don't know enough about what is going on. You could be infected. We can't risk ourselves."

"You don't know if you've been infected either!" Nicole said.

Bernard was silent for a moment before replying, "But _I'm_ inside." he said. The words were almost petulant.

Nicole exhaled with an exasperated and frustrated noise, realising that they weren't going to get any results at this door – and likely not the other doors to the building either. When she first joined the party, she quickly learned that she needed to be wary of other party members, as senior Ministerial positions were coveted by all. However, she didn't realise that she would be literally blocked out at the first sign of inconvenience.

Each were in it for themselves, Nicole knew.

"Can you at least get us something to eat? And maybe fetch me some shoes from my office? I keep a comfortable pair under my desk." Nicole asked.

Bernard was silent for a few agonising moments. Nicole willed for him to comply. The situation in which the pair had found themselves was so bizarre and alien, she felt she needed some kind of victory – any kind of victory – would help lift their spirits. Bernard's head hovered in the gloom behind the window.

"I'll see what I can do." Bernard said, "But stay back from the door when I open it. We have ceremonial swords in here, and I won't hesitate to use them if I need to."

"Those things are flimsy." Nicole said.

"Yes, but I am sure they'd still hurt a lot if you got whacked by one." Bernard countered.

With that unveiled threat hanging in the air, Bernard's orb retreated from the window and disappeared into the void. Nicole and Nathan faced each other, neither able to articulate any cogent thought about the new information they had. Nathan eventually turned away from Nicole and began to scan his view over the street before the Parliament House. He looked left and right, searching around the empty street.

"What's the matter?" Nicole asked him.

"Just keeping a lookout." Nathan replied, "I think we need to be a little more cautious now. It's clear that we might be in some kind of danger now."

Nicole understood what he meant. She knew that if there had been any power that she would be in front of cameras, announcing a State of Emergency and advising people to stay indoors. Except there was no power, no cameras, and for all she knew, no people. No people listening, at least.

Nathan let out a small exclamation and started to descend the stairs, his eyes were trained on something in the garden beside the steps. He bent forward and snatched up a strap, hoisting the object up high. A handbag. He immediately opened the satchel and began rummaging around the contents. Nicole opened her eyes in shock, "What are you doing?" she cried.

"There could be food in here."

Nicole looked dubious, "That's a woman's handbag. Whatever food is in there, I sincerely doubt you'd want it."

Nathan glanced up from the bag for a moment to look at her, his hand still inside, a pose not too dissimilar to a child with their hand in the cookie jar – although his face didn't suggest any sign of guilt.

"Food is food." He said with a slight shrug.

Nicole couldn't really argue with the simple rebuttal.

Nathan grew impatient with the handbag, opening the zipper completely and emptying out the contents. To the dirt fell a notepad, some stationery, a smartphone with a shattered screen, various containers of makeup and brushes, a purse and some keys.

Nathan let out a slight growl at the realisation that the treasure within the bag held no sustenance for him. He then bent down again to retrieve an item from the ground. The smartphone. Nicole cried out for Nathan to stop rifling through the belongings of others, but he woke the phone to inspect it.

"Still has charge." he said, his statement vague and directed to no one.

"Any reception?" Nicole asked.

"Nope."

"Well, shit." Nicole's frustration built within her.

Nathan again bent forward to look at the contents that had spilled forth from the handbag, this time collecting the purse from the ground.

"Is nothing sacred to you?" Nicole asked, her growing impatience further swelling to burst.

"It's Bridgette's." He said, as though that would explain everything, "The screen is busted, but it looks like it's just the glass".

"I wasn't talking about the phone. You don't need to go through her stuff." Nicole chided.

"The phone's locked anyway." Nathan said, only half-listening to Nicole and mostly thinking out loud, "It'll probably delete itself if I tried to unlock it." He didn't seem to address Nicole directly as he spoke.

"What were you hoping to find, apart from food?" Nicole asked, the growing anger making no effort to mask itself in her tone.

"Well, I did find something we could use." Nathan said.

He bent forward to collect the keys from the ground. He gave them an emphatic jingle as he held them up to show Nicole.

"You want to steal her car?" Nicole asked.

"'Acquire'", Nathan countered, "Besides, we both know that these are desperate times."

"We can't just take her car!" Nicole said. Bridgette always refused to have a driver chauffeur her around on the commute to work. She liked to call that drive from home to the office "Her Time."

"She ain't using it now." Nathan said.

The thought of simply helping themselves to the property of another person revolted Nicole, however she couldn't argue with Nathan's assessment of the situation. They clearly weren't safe in the city, and they needed to use whatever resources they could get their hands on.

There was a groaning at the door behind Nicole – the sound of heavy furniture sliding with torturous slowness across a polished floor. The groaning vibrato eventually stopped, and the door opened with the slightest crack. A plastic bag appeared within the small gap between the wood panels, too bulky to fit through the opening. The bag rustled in waves as the hand behind the door shoved and shoved the plastic over and over to push a broad object through as small a gap as was necessary. Shove after shove gushed at the bag before it eventually fell from the door and plopped onto the polished marble floor of the landing. The bag was quite opaque, but Nicole could make out the shape of her trainers, a loaf of bread and a jar of something.

The door closed shut, and again the sound of heavy furniture labouring across the floor emanated from within. Bernard had boarded himself back inside.

"This is it?" Nicole asked, picking up the bag, "You couldn't even make us a sandwich? Just want to give us the ingredients and go?"

"It's all you asked for." came Bernard's reply from behind the door.

Nicole inspected the contents closer. He had supplied them with half a jar of strawberry jam with the bread. At least he had chosen the more comfortable pair of shoes that she kept in her office. She sighed at the realisation that the bag didn't contain an important item. She walked over to the window where they had first spoke with Bernard and rapped on the glass with a knuckle.

"Can we get a knife to spread the jam at least?" Nicole asked.

Bernard's face reappeared at the window. Despite the darkness surrounding his visage, Nicole could see he was clutching a handkerchief over his mouth – obviously to cover his face so he wouldn't be infected by any outside contaminants.

"That's all I can do for you." Bernard said through the muffling handkerchief.

Nicole reopened the bag to inspect its contents, in the vain hope that she had missed something. She plucked her trainers from the bag and started to change her footwear. He feet throbbed, although she was thankful for the reprieve. She placed her heels in the bag, twisting it closed.

"Okay, Bernard. Thank you. Please let the others know you saw me and that you kept me out." she said, making her consternation obvious.

But Bernard's face had already disappeared. Thinking that he must have returned to his inner sanctum, Nicole lowered herself down to tie the shoelaces of her trainers. The soft cushioning that tightened around her arches and toes was a welcoming sensation, despite her knowing that the semi-formal suit she wore looked ridiculous with such shoes.

An exclamation came from inside the building. The sound was deadened slightly from the thick windows, but Nicole could hear an urgency in a voice. Bernard's voice. She stood back up and pressed her forehead against the glass to look inside.

"How did you get in here?" came Bernard's voice, "You can't be here."

Nicole knocked on the window, "Bernard? What's happening?"

"Stay away!" Bernard said to the unseen being. Nicole could hear some scrabbling inside as bodies moved within the gloom. She rapped again on the thick window.

"Bernard!" Nicole called. Nathan came running over to the window, beckoning a question with confused eyes. Nicole quickly explained what she was hearing, which immediately prompted Nathan to also bang on the window to call inside.

"Get away from me!" Bernard yelled, "No! Get off me!" his voice called with a strain, as though exerting himself.

"We gotta help." Nathan said, leaving the window and rushing to the door. He shoved his shoulder against the wood, trying to get the giant opening to budge.

"What can we do?" Nicole asked, "You need my access pass to open that door. It won't move without scanning first, besides there's some furniture blocking the door." she explained.

Nathan held out his hand to request Nicole's pass, "If that old guy can shift the furniture, I'm sure I can too."

Nicole was torn. She knew that she should help her old colleague, as he was clearly distressed, but she evaluated the risk versus the reward. Bernard had been wary of her and Nathan's potential infection, but from his cries, it was clear that someone inside had succumbed to whatever it was that was possessing people. She hurriedly weighed up the next course of action, eventually deciding to hand over her access pass to Nathan. With the both of them, perhaps they could get the door open quicker.

As she started to Nathan, there was a sudden thud at the window. Startled, Nicole turned to inspect the source of the sound, gasping in surprise. Bernard's face was pressed against the window, his respirations spreading clouds across the glaze.

"No. I don't want..." He said against the window. His eyes suggested a heightened sense of panic.

Nicole pointed toward the entrance to the building, "Go to the door, Bernard! We'll get you out!" she cried.

Bernard's eyes turned to Nicole, his breathing becoming laboured, "It's too late." he said. An arm appeared out of the gloom, hooking over Bernard's right shoulder and its hand pressing into his chest. Another arm appeared on his other side, curling across his waist. A face appeared over his left shoulder, a feminine face with blonde, loose hair and serene eyes. It was a familiar face.

"Rebecca?" Nicole asked the face.

It was Nicole's assistant. Rebecca said nothing, but stared ahead with her blue orbs, the tiniest of smiles creasing her youthful face. Her arms tightened over Bernard's shoulder.

Bernard yelped in panic, over and over, realising his entrapment. He cried out in repeated attempts to have Rebecca yield her grip across his torso, but those cries subsided as the embrace from behind enveloped him.

"Stop Rebecca! Let him go!" Nicole demanded, slamming her fist against the window. Nathan ran back to the window from the door and began searching the area – likely for an object he could use to break open the glass pane.

Bernard's breathing started to ease, and his cries diminished to silence. The panic in his eyes washed away and became distant. His cheek was still pressed against the window, but the billowing mist on the glass subsided to mere specks.

Rebecca's grip on his seemed to loosen and Bernard retreated from the window, his face sweat still imprinted, a watermark of his previous state of panic.

"Bernard?" Nicole called, "Is everything okay?"

Bernard stood before the window, quiet, not replying. He was immensely upright, even for a man that Nicole understood to be incredibly proper.

"Bernard?" Nathan asked, repeating Nicole's course of enquiry.

"What's going on, Bernard?" Nicole asked, "Are you okay?"

Bernard still stood without a word.

"Come on, Bernard! You're starting to scare me." Nicole said, concern rising in her own voice.

Bernard retreated from the window, his face fading away into the gloom.

"Bernard!" Nicole called, repeating his name again and again in an attempt to garner a reply.

After her fourth call to him, a pair of hands emerged from the darkness, their palms pressing so heavily against the window that the skin flattened. Nicole and Nathan retreated from the window with haste, both thudding back against one of the huge pillars that extended up to the building's roofline.

Despite the distance between them and the thick window, the pair heard a reply. A reply that filled their chest with dread. A single word.

"Hug?"
Chapter 5

The technician had been perched on the picnic dining table for a couple hours now, yet never once did he grow bored of observing the people who surrounded the campus. He marvelled at their uniformity and their serenity, although the oddity of the situation still gave him the slightest after-taste of uncertainty. That oddness did begin to wane the more he sat and observed.

He would call to people individually, as if to try and find someone with a sense of their surroundings, but none responded in a fashion apart from the guttural moan to request an embrace.

Every now and then he would spy one of the people stopping by a flower on the ground – one of the many weeds that dotted the floor of the vacant lot – plucking it and taking a deep inhale. The peculiarity of that simple moment that each of them performed made the technician more curious. He was thinking that somewhere in that moment, that a person was teetering on the edge of their humanity, only to snuff it out with a simple sniff. That, the technician thought, was the key to unlocking the secret of what had affected these people.

As he sat upon the picnic table, his mind turned to the previous evening, thinking of the storm that had battered the city. It was an unusual weather event for this time of year; Spring. Despite the ferocity of the storm, the technician didn't recall hearing the sounds of any heavy rain. The ground was only slightly damp, and the picnic table upon which he sat was bone-dry.

He began to hypothesise.

The winds were extremely powerful, he remembered.

Perhaps the winds had blown a lot of pollen from the flowers and trees into the air? With very little rain, the pollen would stay up in the air.

The technician knew his understanding of plants and pollen were extremely limited, but he persevered with his line of thinking.

Had all the people inhaled a cocktail of pollen, which was now screwing with their brain?

Because he had been hidden inside a thick complex of hallways and locked doors, perhaps he had been spared from the fate that these other walkers had followed?

He felt his pulse jump at the hypothesis. A solitary moment of panic.

If it indeed was pollen in the air that was affecting people, then he was probably bathing in it right now. He glanced over to a group of people beyond the fence, seeing the small pillows of yellow pollen billowing around their feet with each step.

Realising that he might be exposing himself to the pollen at that very moment, the technician immediately leapt from the picnic table and ran back toward the data centre with urgency. He pulled at the door, only to find that it had relatched. Desperate, he looked about the campus courtyard for something, anything, he could use to break back into the building. His eyes rested on a large, skull-sized rock on the ground.

He hoisted the rock with both hands and sauntered over to the glass door, shifting around awkwardly as he carried the weight. With a groan of exertion, he hurled the rock at the window.

The glass easily succumbed to the projectile, cracks spider-webbing across its face. The technician, spurred on by desperation, reclaimed the rock and hurled it against the window again. The rock disappeared from view as it travelled through the window, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. The engineer grabbed the shattered, tempered glass and yanked on it to create an opening through which he could tumble.

Jumping through the window, he hit the floor on the other side with a grunt, some breath being knocked from his lungs at the impact. He refound his feet, feeling relieved at being back indoors, although he quickly realised that he'd created a hole through which the pollen could enter the building, and that Justine hadn't been immune to the pollen at the front desk. He needed to go deeper inside, but further doors inside were likely locked.

He noticed the large rock on the floor, glass granules fanning out from its base like a skirt in mid-twirl.

This rock looked like a makeshift Master Key.

The rear seat of a vehicle that is on the opposite side of the driver is the safest one, Nicole had read. It was on that pew she was now sat, comforted by the smooth ride of the large car, and the softness of the leather seats. Bridgette's car was quite fancy.

Nicole would have typically spent that moment revelling in the luxury of such a method of travel, playing with the buttons on the centre armrest that controlled temperature and sound volume, but instead she found herself staring out the window. She wasn't on the lookout for threats, or obstacles, but was lost in her own mind as she reviewed the events of the past hour.

Bernard, whom she had seen simultaneously as an adversary yet sometimes as a confidante, was now lost to her, having succumbed to whatever it was that was infecting people. She briefly mourned for his departure before turning her attention to survival. Nathan was driving the vehicle at a hurried pace, searching for the quickest route from the city. Thankfully the roads were still in an orderly fashion, with cars parked neatly to the side, and no traffic lights working to hold up their progress.

At first, Nathan had approached each intersection with caution, just in case there was traffic coming from another direction, but after a few desolated crossroads, he began powering through with nary a care.

The car's engine did a lowly growl with each acceleration as Nathan navigated the streets between the tall buildings. Whenever they entered a tunnel, the sound of the blaring exhaust was sheltered from the pair by the vehicle's expensive sound insulation.

As they arrived on the inner-city highway that would lead them away from the metropolis, Nathan hit the accelerator hard to build up speed. The tall buildings shrunk behind them as they hurtled along the sunken motorway. Overpasses flitted overhead, blinking past. The highway eventually rose from it's sunken grounding, rising up to unveil outside suburbia.

The passing houses were tidy, although largely nondescript. Nicole always found that disappointing with modern architecture; angular designs that could have been considered bold, would become ordinary when every house in close proximity looked just like it.

Nathan was clearly breaking the speed limit, but Nicole paid it no mind. The car seemed well-planted on the road, and there was likely no one around to enforce the laws that governed vehicle velocity.

The scenery of houses thinned to open highway, and the road snaked with a gentle arc around the hills. Tall rock-walls flanked the highway, serving as a reminder of the explosives and excavations required to make this section of road. It was known that this stretch of tarmac was popular with youths for testing out their cars' modifications, as they all tried to best each others' speed runs. Of course, the Police also knew this, and regularly camped out on the highway. Nicole always considered it odd that despite knowing that the road was regularly policed, that people still saw fit to continue to race there.

It was almost like a game. The game was now accepted. It was a _thing_.

They had only encountered a few of the infected people as they departed the city. From Nicole's observations, they seemed to group in a haphazard manner; not densely, but thick enough to present a bit of an obstacle. To Nathan's credit, they had easily negotiated any potential blockages without any incident, injury or damage to the car. The infected people made no move to impede their progress, but simply wandered about in a daze, not caring about the surrounds, nor of any threat from an approaching vehicle.

Hurtling along the highway, the car arced around several easy bends and carved its way between two sheer rock faces. Nicole glanced upward to watch the cliffs pass by, the rough and inconsistent jutting rocks painted a hue of yellow by the sun, backdropped by blue spring skies. All the clouds from the storm had cleared away, leaving only the proper seasonal weather behind – blue skies and yellowed sunshine. Eventually these rocks would envelop the car as they passed through a single tunnel to leave the city limits. Nicole quickly glanced at her phone for any sign that a signal had somehow found its way to the antenna.

No signal.

The seatbelt across Nicole's chest tightened suddenly as the car began to slow. She glanced over to Nathan to enquire on the change of their velocity before leaning over to peer out the front window. The tunnels were ahead, however flickering before their openings were amber lights, alternating their glow in a harmonious rhythm. The lights were joined by a long yellow and black-painted plank.

It was a road block.

Behind the barriers stood four armoured vehicles, each one standing upon numerous large tyres. Four axles per vehicle. They were coloured in the olive drab that militaries were often so enamoured with. A number of human-shaped figures stood dutifully before each armoured vehicle, giving a rather ominous presence to the gathering. As their vehicle drew closer to the blockade, slowing on approach, Nicole could see that each person was also clothed in that dour green uniform, a single firearm, helmet and facemask.

The car's engine wound down in RPM as they slowed, seeming to groan at the thought of being restrained. One solitary figure broke out from the formation at the road block, walking toward them and raising his hand in a gesture to show their intent to intercept and address them, their other hand resting on the side of their firearm, casual but ready. Nathan pulled the vehicle to a complete stop, but kept the engine running. The figure continued their approach. Their weapon was hanging diagonally across their torso, pointed toward the ground. It was a non-threatening stance, although Nicole found the presence of the weapon unnerving.

Nicole opened the door to the vehicle and climbed out from the rear seat, confused at the existence of this control point. As she exited the vehicle, the approaching figure stopped.

"Please stay right there, ma'am" the figure said, his masculine voice muffled from the dark gas mask he was wearing. The giant twin canisters that jutted out from the mask's chin seemed to wheeze, indicating the thickness of the plastics and rubber that was attached to the man's face.

"Please, we need to get out of the city." Nicole started. She started to walk around the vehicle to properly address the individual.

"Ma'am, please stay where you are. We are under orders to not let anyone past this point." the figure responded.

"I am the Minister for the Emergency Services portfolio," Nicole explained, "It's imperative that I get the message out. The city is in trouble."

"I understand, ma'am, but my orders are clear. I am not able to let you past. Containment lines have been set up around the city under strict orders to not let anyone exit until more is known about the infection." The military figure said.

Nicole stopped her own advance, her confusion mounting, "Infection?" she echoed.

The military figure offered no further explanation. He was clearly just a grunt; only told what he needed to be told. Nicole's slight sense of hope faded as she realised they would be turned back, regardless of her prominent station in Government.

"We're not infected. Look at us! We drove here!" Nathan called from the driver's seat of the car.

The military figure replied again with his canned response, "We are under orders to not let anyone past this point."

Nicole turned back to the car, "Forget it, Nathan. This is a lost cause." She opened the rear door and clambered in, yanking it closed with assertiveness.

"Can't you even try to get some communication out?" Nathan asked from the driver's seat.

Nicole replied to him with a stony silence. There was little they could do here.

"So, what now?" Nathan asked.

Nicole's stomach grumbled again. She reached over to the nearby bag for another slice of bread, "We go back to the hotel and wait."

"Back in the city? That place is full of infected people. We wouldn't last very long at all." Nathan said.

"What would you suggest?" Nicole asked, taking a bite from the bread.

"Surely there are other people somewhere like us?" Nathan suggested, "If we find some, then perhaps we can get to the bottom of what's going on?"

"Why is that our problem?" Nicole asked, "There are scientists somewhere who are probably looking for a solution as we speak. No, we're better off just laying low until they find a remedy."

"Then what about us in the meantime? I'm not going to just sit around and just wait in the vain hope that I don't turn into one of those..." he paused, clearly to consider the best word he could apply, "zombies."

"That's all we can do," Nicole said, "Hope is all we have. I am sure they'll come up with a solution soon. We have some great scientific minds in this country, and while I'm not one of them, I have some measure of faith in them."

Nathan slumped back into his seat, and stared up at the driver's sunvisor that jutted out from the front of the roofline. He seemed lost in his world for a moment.

Nicole looked past him to see the military figure still standing before the car, dutifully. Nathan spoke again, "What if they're not working on a solution?"

"Of course they are." Nicole said.

"The Government surely knows what's going on here."

Nicole scrunched up her nose, "What are you getting at?"

"What if the Government is conducting a test on people? What if there is no solution?" Nathan asked.

"Oh fuck off. You're not thinking some kind of conspiracy are you?" Nicole spat.

"I dunno. Just sayin'" Nathan said, growing defensive.

"We can barely keep our health system working." Nicole said, "What makes you think that we can get some grand scheme together to infect an entire city?"

Nathan sat upright in his seat as he return the car to a forward gear and began to negotiate a U-turn, "Was just saying, is all" he said, perhaps somewhat sheepishly.

Nicole huffed and leaned back in her seat as they drove away from the road block. She didn't want to engage Nathan any more. She was surprised at him, though. She didn't think for a moment that he'd consider that conspiracy angle. He was a journalist, and he was always at loggerheads with the Government on many issues, but he was also always thinking in stories. Every event always needed a hidden result that Government leaders wanted. However, he knew the structure of the system and always kept his line of questioning directed at highlighting incompetence.

A conspiracy would require the opposite of incompetence.

Not that the Government was incompetent.

Nicole stared out the window, watching the scenery roll by as the car accelerated and returned to its highway speed. If they were going to survive, they were going to have to do it inside the city, rather than outside.
Chapter 6

The technician punched through another window with his newfound Master Key. The glass was tempered on each of the doors he discovered, each pane disintegrating into granules after many hurls of the rock. As the technician entered each room, he monitored his own feelings, searching for any symptom to suggest that he was infected with whatever had consumed those people outside. He felt his temperature rise, however he knew that he was exerting himself which would certainly affect his body. His panic had his blood flowing to each extremity of his being, to the effect that his fingertips tingled.

His mind still seemed sharp. He didn't notice any kind of dullness, although he knew that mad men seldom knew that they were going mad. The thought didn't give him any comfort.

The rooms grew darker and darker as he progressed through the facility, away from the outside light. The off-white walls began to dim to deep grey, and the cheap carpeted floor became indistinct. His brief search for a flashlight yielded no results, with each locker, desk and tool chest he found proving resistant to his Master Key.

The centre-most room that he knew was the main hub of the data centre; a room full of tall cabinets that had blinking blue lights. The room was loud, typically, due to all the cooling systems in place, with priority given to best ventilation and no regard whatsoever made for acoustics. Accessibility to those cabinets and their lines was paramount, and took greater preference over the comfort of any workers.

He checked his phone for a moment, firstly to note the time, but also to see if any reception could be found. While he had tampered with the cabinets before, he held a slender hope that things might resume quickly. The phone's screen replied with a pixellated time to denote mid-morning, and a scrawly "No service" message.

The technician knew that the next room contained the cabinets. There would be no outside light from this point onward. There was a foyer adjacent to the data room, in where technicians could leave their phones behind, and a sticky mat to clean the soles of their shoes. The agreement that every technician signed as part of their induction to the site required them to leave their phones at the foyer – something to do with the risk of having cameras inside a secure facility.

Such policies could probably be pliable in this situation, the technician figured, just as he hurled his rock at the door, punching a hole through the glass. He grabbed the remaining window and pulled the granules of glass free so that he could clamber through the opening.

Stumbling into the foyer, he plunged into darkness. While he couldn't see very much, he took some solace in knowing that he was as far from the potential source of infection as he could get, given the circumstances. He sat on the floor and waited for his eyes to adjust to the pitch. As he settled, the quietness of the room slowly shrouded him.

For a moment, within the silence and darkness, he thought he could hear something. A faint hiss.

It could have been anything, even his imagination.

Then he heard it again. A drawn hiss. It whisked into his ears in a steady, elongated brush. He leaned forward in an attempt to somehow listen harder, willing his ears to comprehend the new stimulus.

The noise was rhythmic.

It was an exhalation.

He wasn't alone in the room.

The cabin of the car darkened momentarily as they passed under a bridge, reigniting as they emerged from the other side. The highway was striped with such overpasses, providing an arhythmic and erratic strobe. Nicole stared with vacancy from the window, watching the houses, bridges and other businesses scan past her gaze. Travel often sent Nicole into a state of trance, where her mind would wander over various topics; hopes, dreams, vision for the future of the city. Now she faced myriad emotions, each one seeming to arise with each bridge.

Bridge one. Anxiety.

Bridge two. Anger.

Bridge three. Determination.

Bridge four. Anxiety again.

The carousel of emotions circled Nicole's head, providing no gap or opportunity to simply relax. Nathan said nothing as he drove the vehicle ahead. Nicole had suggested that they return to her house to regain their thoughts, or seek shelter. With a possible outbreak breaking out, there wasn't much else that the pair could do while the military was keeping everyone contained within the city bounds. As for what awaited them at her home, she did not know. She hoped with all hopes that a solution would be found before the pair succumbed to their possible infection.

Bridge five. Anger.

Nicole couldn't believe that her own party had cold-shouldered her out so quickly and easily. These people were her confidantes, colleagues and possibly even friends. They had negotiated all kinds of issues and scandals. If there were ever a time for them to be coming together, now would be it. Nicole snorted at the window, identifying the individuals she was singling out in her head. How readily they had discarded her had instantly shattered the bond she felt she had built up with the party since she began with them a decade ago. It made her feel that emotion that she only ever expressed at the times she wished others to feel bad about themselves.

She was _disappointed_.

Bridge six. Hope.

Not all was lost, Nicole felt. They still had shelter and they still had their faculties. Perhaps there was some good that could be done until a solution was found for the infection.

The highway passed a field, and a series of parks. Nicole spied a number of people in those parks, all walking with the steady rhythm of those infected. It was an odd display, seeing people walking around with no aim, almost shambling from one place to the next, achieving nothing. No goals. Just lazily wandering. Even though Nicole was in a car that was some distance away from them, Nicole could imagine their faces; serenely expressionless.

They passed by a row of trees, which quickly flickered the sunlight that was inside the car's cabin. Nicole blinked before leaning forward toward the window. There was something in the gathering of people in the park that seemed anomalous. There was one person moving among them quickly, keeping their distance from the group. Nicole could make out headphones dangling from their ears as they jogged past the gatherings. The others watched her as she jogged past them. One of the infected reached out to the jogger but she waved them away with a casual flutter of her hand.

Jogging. She was jogging.

"There!" Nicole said to Nathan.

Nathan had been quiet since they had been turned around at the checkpoint. Nicole figured that he was similarly lost in his own circle of emotions like hers. He half-turned to Nicole from his position in the driver's seat, "What?"

"I see someone."

"There are a lot of 'someones' out there." Nathan said, intoning the words with the emotionless cadence of an automaton.

"No, I think she's not infected." Nicole asserted.

"How do you know?" Nathan asked, "They all look the same to me. Slow moving and lost."

"She's _jogging_." Nicole said, exaggerating the last word.

"Okay," Nathan said, "maybe they are lost, but now they've started moving a little quicker. Maybe we should start worrying when they begin running." Nathan said, not convinced.

"I don't think she's infected. Everyone else we've seen has been empty. They all seem without any kind of drive. This one is _jogging_. No one jogs aimlessly." Nicole said, reiterating her initial point.

"Infected can't jog?" Nathan asked.

"We don't know." Nicole said, "We don't know anything, you know?"

"People can jog aimlessly." Nathan said, dismissing her point.

"Not how you're saying. Yes, people can jog aimlessly, but it's always for a point. It's to get fit, or stay fit, or to escape, or something." Nicole reasoned, "Look, she's just different to the others, okay?"

"So you want to do what, exactly?" Nathan asked.

"We gotta help her!" Nicole stated firmly, incredulous as to his insensitivity.

Nathan remained silent for a moment, as though contemplating. An exit was approaching quickly, and a decision had to be made.

"Fuck it." Nathan muttered, habitually switching on the vehicle's indicator and veering off the highway. Nicole shifted in her seat as the forward motion was countered by a sharp sideways turn. The tyres groaned a little in protest, but Nathan held the course of the turn.

"Thank you!" Nicole said, exhaling with exasperation, genuinely thankful but also adding a barb of impatience.

If she were right about the jogger, having more people could only help. She wasn't going to freeze out others in the same way her party had frozen her out.

If she were wrong, though...

The exit from the highway didn't take them immediately to the park in where they had seen the woman jogging. The streets snaked back and forth, weaving an incoherent mess throughout the suburb. The area was one of the upper-class leafy suburbs, with well-kept streets, tidy verges and large trees that spread a thick canopy over the roads. There were scatterings of purple blossoms on these trees, which was typical for Springtime in this city.

There were a few walkers on the streets who stared at the car as it roared past. Some of them lifted their arms up in an effort to wave them down, but Nathan ploughed on in search of the jogger.

Nathan was trying to refer to the car's satellite navigation to locate the park, but in his haste found it difficult to both drive and negotiate the vehicle's numerous menus and unintuitive descriptions. After cursing the technology's frustrating interface, he instead opted to use his own internal compass to guide them to the park.

The park was enormous, with various walking trails snaking around and through the greenery. Tall, broad native trees stood vigilantly at the perimeter of the park, offering a stern, shadowy border to the suburban oasis. Various flower beds and shrubs speckled the park to break the monotony of green. Nathan slowed the car to a lower speed as the pair of them peered out the vehicle's windows to search. They looked back and forth for any sign of her amid the odd walker. A group of infected were circling a pond that was squat in the middle of the park. Nicole noticed all their heads were turned to spy something of interest. From around a bush the jogger emerged, still forging ahead with a steady pace. She looked athletic and fit, her midriff exposed between her pastille-coloured sports bra and light-grey track pants. Her dark ponytail swung pendulously behind her with each determined step of her run.

"There." Nicole said, "I see her."

Nathan turned to look out the window, "Okay, now what?" he asked, after locating the runner.

"We gotta flag her down. She's been spotted by some of the walkers." Nicole said.

"I think the trail she's on comes out in front of us. I can drive up there to wait for her." Nathan suggested.

Nicole agreed, but as she turned back to the jogger, she saw a reason to begin panic. The group that had seen the jogger were grouping together and starting their ambling walk to intercept her. They were on an intercept vector to the woman, and they would meet eventually. Nicole pressed the window button on the door to lower the pane before leaning out the opening. She needed to raise the woman's attention before she was swamped by the mob.

"Hey!" Nicole called, "Over here!"

The jogger did not register Nicole's call. Hanging from the ears of the jogger were wires, which also swung with the rhythm and beat of her ponytail. Headphones, Nicole remembered, the jogger had no idea of the pending threat approaching her. The fact that she was even out jogging must have meant that she had no idea of the city's situation.

The jogger kept her pace as she followed the trail. She seemed to notice the approaching hoard of walkers, but she made no attempt to deviate from her path. Nicole's fear grew as the two approached each other, the jogger with her pace and the group of walkers with their slow steps.

"We need to help her!" Nicole said to Nathan.

Nathan opened the door and climbed out the car with urgency. Nicole again leaned out the window to call to the jogger, waving her hand in the hope that some movement in the distance would draw the jogger's eyes.

Despite Nicole's efforts, the jogger surged ahead toward the group of walkers. The shamblers lifted their arms out toward her as they looked to meet. Nicole could just hear the audible sounds of their requests, their slow guttural moan for a hug. Nicole's fear grew in concern for the jogger, and she waved her arms desperately. They were about to meet. Nathan wasn't near enough to interject and help, running toward the trail.

The jogger reached the group of walkers, who were clamouring for her with outstretched arms and hands.

To Nicole's horror, the jogger smiled at the group. It was a polite smile that stretched her lips widely, and raised her cheekbones into her eyes. The jogger gave the walkers a polite wave, as if to dismiss them, before deviating slightly from her trajectory, and going around the group. The slight change in path did not slow the jogger, and she continued on her path as the walkers turned and sauntered slowly after her. But her pace was far greater than theirs, leaving them behind to their wanting arms and calls for hug.

Nicole slumped back into the car, both in relief and in confusion. Surely the jogger understood her peril, Nicole thought. She leaned to look out the front window to see that Nathan was waiting for the jogger, where the trail met the path that skirted the park. Nathan was waving to the approaching jogger as well, trying to obtain her attention. The jogger continued along the path toward Nathan, and without breaking her pace she waved to him with an equally dismissive hand and carried on.

Nathan turned his head to follow the jogger, staring at her departing form. He returned his look to Nicole in the car, his expression twisted in confusion. He gave a half-shrug before looking back over his shoulder to review the situation.

Nicole could see that the walkers had returned to their aimless stalking of the pond in the centre of the park, and that there was no one else in the area to be concerned about.

Nathan returned to the car and slid back into the driver's seat.

"What happened?" Nicole asked.

"She said 'Hi' and 'no thanks'." Nathan replied.

"What did you say to her?" Nicole asked, escalating her voice with the timbre of urgency.

"I couldn't say anything. I tried to get her attention, and she just ignored me!" Nathan said, clearly frustrated.

"Go after her!" Nicole said.

Nathan put on his seatbelt and stabbed his finger into a button on the dashboard. The car's engine fired into life and shimmied a little as Nathan engaged the gear. The vehicle leapt ahead, surging forward to chase down the jogger, and it didn't take long for them to reach her.

"Just drive next to her." Nicole instructed Nathan. He slowed the car into a gentle cruise as they pulled alongside. The jogger glanced over her shoulder, noting their presence. She increased her pace a little, as though nervy at the following saloon.

Nicole leaned out the open window, "Hey!" she barked.

The jogger turned her head a little and nodded in a polite gesture, then returning her attention to her forward path. Nicole caught a glimpse of her face, and a flicker of recognition tickled at the back of her mind. She knew this face before.

"Hey!" Nicole called again.

The jogger slowed her pace and stopped her forward progress, bouncing on the spot, an exercise meant to keep her heart-rate elevated. She looked directly at Nicole as she plucked a single earbud headphone from her ear, "Sorry I'm a little busy, but I guess I could give a quick selfie." the jogger said.

Nicole then recognised the face. It was Julia Stott, the singer. Nicole had seen her on television before, performing one of her songs. All her tunes were fairly middle-of-the-road affairs that had modest takings and chartings. Nicole knew that Julia lived in the city, so it wasn't to her surprise to see her in one of the more well-to-do suburbs.

"No, I..." Nicole started, trying to find the words to speak, but was disarmed by Julia's ignorance of the situation in which the city found itself.

"We can't do this if you're in the car." Julia said matter-of-factly, continuing to bounce on the spot.

"You should get in the car." Nicole replied, "You're not safe."

"Okay, no. I'm not comfortable with that." Julia said, popping the earbud headphone back into her ear and turning to jog away.

"No!" Nicole said with urgency, "You are not safe around here!" she raised her voice so that she could be heard over whatever was playing in Julia's ear.

"Look, I don't hop into strange cars with strangers," Julia said, "Even strangers with nice cars and clothes like yours." She began to jog again. Nathan moved the car forward to match the jogger's speed.

"Didn't you see those people before who tried to grab you?" Nicole asked loudly.

Julia acknowledged the question, detaching the earbud from her ear again as she jogged, "I can deal with fans." she said.

"Those weren't fans!" Nicole said, "They're..." she struggled to come up with a name that didn't sound too alarmist, but she resigned to using the word that immediately came to mind, "... Zombies!"

At the mention of zombies, Julia's eye ticked in a subtle suggestion of scepticism, but she turned to scan the immediate surrounds to try and spot one of the walkers. There was the group of them still shambling near the pond, circling around a flower bed and taking exaggerated notice of the blooms of spring. They were some distance away, so did not present a clear danger to them.

Julia stopped jogging, "If I were to believe you, how did this happen?" she asked.

"We don't know." Nicole said.

"So why should I trust you?"

Nicole seemed taken aback at the question, and she baulked a little at the instinctive response she felt sitting at the back of her vocal chords. Despite her best efforts, the sentence erupted from her mouth.

"Do you know who I am?" Nicole asked.

Julia reviewed Nicole for a moment, squinting slightly as she looked at her face. She inspected her entire frontage, taking in the details of her suit, but stopping when she saw Nicole's trainers, "You do look familiar." Julia conceded.

"I'm the Minister for Emergency Services" Nicole explained, "I should be the one to know when there's an emergency."

"But you said you didn't know what was going on." Julia observed.

"I know we're in an emergency!" Nicole said.

"But not what kind of emergency." Julia replied.

Nicole shrugged in exasperation, growling a little. Her frustration was starting to bubble up. She was going to further explain her credentials and rationale to Julia, when she noticed the walkers looking over to the pair. They were each staring at them, their heads slightly tilted to one side. Nicole's frustration at Julia must have gotten their attention.

One after the other, each of the walkers raised their arms upwards, and they began their earnest wander over toward the pair. There was a soft moan that was barely intelligible from the distance at which they were from Nicole and Julia, but Nicole knew the word they were uttering. That drone for a hug.

"You need to get into the car." Nicole said, pointing over at the approaching mob.

"I'll be okay." Julia insisted.

"No, we need all the help we can get!" Nicole said, reaching for Julia's wrist from the window. Julia recoiled at the attempted grab, making Nicole growl again.

"Just, no!" Julia exclaimed.

"You want to be like them?" Nicole asked, again pointing at the approaching group.

This time Julia turned to inspect what Nicole was trying to show her. The mob had increased its pace, and was starting to look intimidating as they tread over the green grass. Their droning voices almost harmonised as they insisted on giving their lethal embrace.

Julia's expression descended from frustration into one of worry. She leaned instinctively away from the approaching mob and looked toward the car, "I suppose you seem trustworthy" Julia said with tentative acceptance, as she quickly reached for the door of the car.

Nicole sighed in relief as she shuffled over to the other side of the vehicle's rear seat to make room. The mob was still a good twenty metres away by the time Julia had closed the door, but Nathan still stabbed the accelerator with his foot, lurching the car away from the threat with great pace.Tyres squealed from the thrust, and Nicole felt herself being pushed back into the seat. After the car had settled into its cruise, Nathan spoke.

"Where to?"

There was silence in the cabin for a few seconds. Nicole honestly didn't know. But Julia spoke.

"Can I get some things from home?"
Chapter 7

The technician rested against a wall at the back of the room, listening intently to the nearby breathing. They were long and deep breaths. The sound of slumber. The technician wondered why he hadn't seen another person inside the building during the storm, but figured that while the facility wasn't enormous, it was likely that he simply hadn't spotted them.

He did, however, wonder if this person was a potential witness to his deeds. Had he been seen tampering with the equipment, and could the disruption he planned be traced back to the technician? He quickly discarded the thought, thinking it was a concern for later, and for now there were other predicaments of priority, such as the herd of people outside.

The breaths of the second person quickened as they roused, and there was a shuffling as they rolled about. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the room, the technician could barely make out the movement of a shape on the floor behind the room's glass door, inside with the cabinets.

"Hello?" the technician asked the shape.

There were some mumbles and murmurs as the shape rose into consciousness.

"Hello?" the technician asked again.

"Mmm?" came the reply.

"You're awake?" the technician asked.

"Mm, yeah." the shape said, "Who's that?"

"Just another tech." the technician replied, not wanting to share too much, not sure of what this person might have seen, "The power's out still."

"Backup power?" the shape asked.

"Out of fuel" the technician guessed. It was as plausible reason as any.

"Shit." the shape said.

"The security systems are still on, though." The technician clarified, "But we're in a bit of a situation, and everything outside has gone to shit. People seem to have gone nuts."

"Huh?" the shape said, still shaking off the slumber.

"The people outside," the technician said, "They appear to be affected, or infected, with something."

"What?"

"I dunno. There's a bunch of people at the gate outside and they tried to grab me when I went close to the fence. It's weird."

"Is there anything on the news?" the shape asked his voice starting to hone the crackle off his sleep.

"Nope. I dunno. I don't have one of those smartphones, and even if I did, there's no signal." the technician replied.

"Shit." the shape repeated.

A pale-blue glow then filled the room. The shape had retrieved his smartphone from his pocket and was checking for any network reception. His face was a solitary floating mask in the darkness of the room. He was young – probably late-twenties – with a sharp nose and small eyes that receded further back than what the technician thought normal. Perhaps that was just an artefact of the poor light.

"You're right." the shape said.

"Yeah. I don't know how long it'll be out for. This data centre carries a lot of the system, but with the power out, we can't do much to fix it.

"You're right." the shape said, his voice having an agitated edge to it.

"All we can do is wait it out." the technician said.

"You're right." the shape repeated, his tone escalating.

The technician grew concerned at the tone of voice that the shape was using. It was almost as if he were panicking, "It's going to be okay. We'll survive." the technician offered.

"What are we going to do?" the shape asked, although the rising agitation suggested his remark was rhetorical, rather than of genuine curiosity. The glowing screen wavered in the air, and the technician could make out the shape's finger poking at the device, growing frantic in its search for response.

"Look, I am sure that people are working on the problem. We'll be okay."

"No we won't!" the shape said, the bark surprising the technician, "It's fucked. We're all fucked! What do you know?"

The technician recoiled from the sudden verbal barrage, "Hey, woah there." he said, "We gotta help each other, okay. You're inside there, so I guess the first thing is to get you out."

The glowing screen lowered away from the shape's face and he started pacing near the door. The technician could hear mumbled sounds of distress. The phone swung around in the darkness as the shape paced around the room, his steps growing in speed, his arms flailing the screen around. The shape retreated away from the door and toward the middle of the room, the screen illuminating the cabinets that flanked him. The shape bent over, seemingly clutching his head, moaning loudly in distress, dropping his phone to the floor. There was a sharp crack as the phone met the movable floor tiles, threatening to slip through the cracks to the cables beneath. The screen gradually faded as the phone slowly faded its awakening. The room was returned to darkness.

"Hello?" the technician called to the room.

No reply.

"Hello?" the technician called again, his concern growing.

No reply again.

"Answer me! Are you okay?" the technician yelled to the dark room. He didn't know what was going on, and the shape's behaviour was strange. Was he claustrophobic? Did he need medical attention? The technician pounded on the glass door with his fist. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, lighting up the meek colour screen and sending dim green rays of light into the glass.

This time his call was answered with the thud of two hands pressing into the glass. Even though the light from his phone was dim, the technician could see the skin of the palms lightening as the body behind it pressed them heavily into the door. The technician recoiled from the thump and stumbled backward and into the wall behind him.

"Hug?" came the shape's voice.

Nicole and Julia talked throughout the entire (albeit short) trip on the way back to Julia's home. Julia still held some scepticism over the whole zombie premise, interjecting at times to point out how ludicrous it all sounded. Nathan would offer his own take of events as well, talking of the incident at Parliament House, the deserted hotel and the odd behaviour of the people at the train station. They drove past a couple mobs of walkers, which Nicole highlighted with an indignant point of the finger.

Nicole did feel for Julia. It was a lot to take in, and she likely hadn't seen much of the new world if she was only just starting out on her morning jog.

"In here." Julia instructed Nathan as they travelled down a snaking, hilly lane toward a large gated driveway. Nicole was familiar with gated communities, although never had lived inside one. She had hotels for the busy weeks and her actual home was a larger property on the outskirts of the city – her family's ancestral home.

Nathan pulled the car alongside the reader that stood prominently before the enormous gate like a dutiful doorman. Julia handed Nicole a credit card-sized pass and invited her to scan the rectangle over the reader.

"No power." Nathan said.

Julia looked concerned, "But I..." she paused to think, "Oh, right. One-way gate. I went out through the pedestrian gate."

"Can we get in through the pedestrian gate?" Nicole asked.

"It has a card scanner like this one." Julia replied, "And it latches with a lock. You can get out without a pass, but you can't get in unless you're let in."

"Can we push open the gates to drive in?" Nathan asked.

"Maybe try?" Nicole offered, trying to not sound sarcastic, but failing. Nathan pushed open the door and clambered out to make an attempt on the gate.

Nicole turned to Julia as Nathan exited the still-running car, "So you didn't see anything unusual when you left your house?"

Julia shook her head, "No, nothing. But the neighbourhood is typically quiet, and many in the area aren't outside much in the mornings. They just hop in their cars and disappear out the gate."

"So, no walkers or anything?"

Julia again shook her head, "Didn't see anyone, no, but I get largely ignored around here. Once outside the community, that's when people tend to take more attention of me."

Nicole smiled a soft, reassuring smile, not wanting to baulk at Julia's self-absorption, "So people always try to hug when you're out jogging? Like before?"

Julia shrugged, "I guess. I suppose. Some want selfies and stuff, but I learned long ago to just politely decline and keep going. I'm entitled to 'me time' too, you know?" she said with some vacancy. Her eyes glazed for a moment.

"I understand" Nicole said. While she didn't know the full turmoils of being a celebrity, she did know that having a recognisable face did get some unreasonable attention – but as a politician of a relatively minor portfolio, her renown was limited to few circles.

They looked out the window to see Nathan sizing up the gate. He glanced around briefly to survey the area for any walkers before he took closer inspection of the centre of the gate. There were two gates, both hydraulically driven to swing open – probably inward as evidenced by the lack of visible hydraulic arms. Nathan pushed on one gate which rocked on it hinges, held into place by the unseen arms. He barged his shoulder into the gate, rocking it a little, but it still refused to budge from its place.

He shrugged back at the car in half-defeat. But then Nathan lifted his eyes slightly, and his face suddenly contorted to an expression of panic. Nicole turned in her seat to stare out the back window to investigate what Nathan had seen.

A number of figures were shambling toward the vehicle, arms already outstretched. Nicole estimated that there were around twelve in the group. They were all walking slowly and steadily toward the vehicle, but they were still too close for comfort. Nicole silently cursed for not being more vigilant of the surroundings.

"Get in the car!" she yelled to Nathan.

Nathan was way ahead of her instruction, zipping over to the vehicle's door and entering the car with such gusto, the large vehicle swayed on its suspension. He stabbed the ignition button and tried to shift the gear lever into Drive, but the stick remained stubbornly in Park.

"Fuck!" Nathan said.

"You've turned the car off!" Julia exclaimed, "Why'd you turn the car off?"

"I forgot that I left it on!" Nathan said with panic, "It idles so quietly!"

"Turn it back on!" Nicole said.

Nathan poked again at the button on the dashboard. The lights lit up, filling the black void in front of the driver with numbers, needles and arcs. Nathan again attempted to shift the gears to make the car move, but the vehicle still refused to cooperate.

"You didn't start the engine!" Julia cried, her own panic rising in her voice, "You just turned on accessories! You need to press the brake in first before you press the starter button."

"Fancy fucking cars..." Nathan muttered, depressing the brake and pressing the button again. The needles and numbers on the dash extinguished, plunging the cluster into darkness again.

"You've turned it off again!" Nicole said with frustration.

The walkers were within metres of the car now, reaching out toward the rear opening.

Nathan growled, his own frustration bubbling up and out his throat, some indecipherable words flowing from his mouth like seeping lava. He stamped his foot on the brake and smashed two of his fingers into the button. The engine of the car burst into noise, flaring in revs before settling. Nathan yanked the shifter into a gear that would move the car, and violently treaded on the accelerator.

The car lurched forward in reply to Nathan's indignant instruction, slamming hard into the gate. There was a grating sound of metal on metal, and the engine howled as it slowly pushed the car into the opening. The walkers were alongside the car now pressing their faces into the rear windows, the breath from their voices fogging up parts of the rear window. The car's tyres began to slip and lose traction, squealing and scrubbing in protest. Bluish clouds lifted from the rear wheels, and the smell of burning rubber entered the cabin.

The gate groaned in protest from the car's relentless shove, eventually conceding some ground and parting. The gates opened up, and the car progressed through. The metal-on-metal screeching travelled up the side of the car as the gates scraped along the doors. The car eventually lurched again as the gates lost their grip on the vehicle as it passed through, and swung closed behind them. Some hands tried to reach through the gate's opening, but were neatly shut out by the heavy device.

The trio sighed with relief as they slipped through. Nicole's heart thumped heavily beneath her sternum, and she glanced out the rear window to make sure that no walkers had managed to fumble their way through the gate. She turned back and slumped into the car's comfortable seats, relieved to see no followers. There were no visible grasping hands, and no rocking of the gate in an attempt to get past the boundary.

Nicole breathed in long breaths, steadying herself after the rush of activity, thankful to have escaped. She could only imagine how it felt to be hugged by the horde. She remembered the look upon Bernard's face as he was wrapped in the arms of the unseen walker. His mask of serenity filled her with dread.

What must go through the mind of a victim? What occurs within them when their thoughts are stolen from them and replaced with the vacancy that the walkers exhibited? Do they feel the madness consume them?

Nicole's thoughts wandered as they drove slowly past the various other houses in the community. Each house's yard was impeccably kept with neat shrubberies and groomed lawns. The houses themselves were large and tastefully designed with classic cues rather than the bold and angular modern designs that had blighted outer suburbia. Certainly Nicole would have liked to live in such a community area, if not for the attachment to her ancestral home.

With each passing driveway peeking into another manicured garden and large front door, Nicole's sense of unease began to regrow.

"How many people live in here?" Nicole asked Julia, her heart rate finally settling into a more relaxed pace.

Julia turned to look out the window as she tried to mentally count, but likely struggled as she was still trying to calm herself after the close-call, "I dunno. Maybe a hundred? There are families here, and maybe three to five per house. I would guess, anyway. I don't pay too much attention to such things."

"So, each of these houses could potentially have some walkers in them?"

Julia looked back to Nicole, her own thoughts possibly echoing Nicole's. She too began to express a visage of distress.

"We should get to my house. It's the..." Julia said, looking out the front window to determine where they were, "fourth one on the left. The driveway goes up a steeper hill."

They rounded a turn, and an incline rose on the vehicle's left. Thick trees lined either side of the road, and Nathan was lucky to locate the driveway, making a sudden darting turn that rocked the passengers on the rear seat. The car's engine note rose a little as it began to climb the hill, finding the exertion a slight inconvenience.

Nicole leaned forward to look out the car's front window to view the house. It was a large, with two-storeys visible from the side on which they approached. The building was clearly designed to fit best on the side of a hill. There was a closed garage to the side of the house, which was fronted with a single panel of dark timber. The facade of the house showed multiple, tall windows which glimmered with yellow light in the Spring sun. The pathway leading up to the front door was lined with multiple lights that glowed a warm orange hue.

"You have power?" Nicole asked.

"Back up generator." Julia explained, "It came with the house when I bought it."

Nicole's stomach began to churn, reminding her that she'd not had a decent feed all day. The sandwiches were hardly the best meal for the morning.

"So you have fresh food?" Nicole asked. While she phrased the sentence as a question, she couldn't help but feel she was making a demand.

The inside of Julia's house was replete with timber and warm lighting. The floors were a brownish-red parquetry that extended across the entire storey, vividly reflecting each warm, yellow downlight. Plain-coloured rugs were spaced intermittently across the floor, serving to soften the hardness of the wooden floor, and the harshness of any echo. A trio of large sofas squared around a coffee table, creating an angular horseshoe that faced a large television on the wall. A small bar to the side partially hid a luxurious kitchen with a couple glass refrigerators that housed a variety of wine bottles and fresh-looking food. The house thrummed with a gentle hum of the appliances and the distant noise of a generator labouring outside.

Julia invited them to sit on the sofas while she retrieved some food from the kitchen.

"I just had some leftovers from last night, I'm afraid. I'm vegetarian as well, so I'm afraid there's no animal on offer."

Nathan smirked to himself before quipping, "I can eat plants okay. I'll take anything now, to be honest. Bread and jam doesn't sit well with me for too long."

Nicole silently agreed with Nathan. The sugars from the jam would soon wear off, and she needed something with a bit more sustenance and substance to it. While she could have murdered a steak at that point, she was happy with the vegetarian alternative.

"Nice place," Nicole observed, "Been here long?"

It was hard to force conversation, considering the peril that the group had faced. Nicole was good at creating small-talk, though, and now seemed as good a time as any to distract everyone from the situation. She needed everyone in a good frame of mind.

Julia seemed to settle and steady herself for a moment, "I grew up in this city." Julia explained, "Yes, I will fly out to L.A or New York for a while when I'm in the studio, but I always come back here. I bought this place about four years ago, and while I don't stay here when I'm working, it's just nice to have that place to call home, you know?"

Nicole understood. She too spent a lot of time on the road for her job, but she had grown accustomed to living out of suitcases and didn't have as much attachment to a "home" as what Julia was expressing. But she understood the sentiment of having something to call their own.

"Nice area, too" Nathan said.

Nicole sighed in resignation, knowing what Nathan was doing. Even with the world around them crumbling, he was still trying to poke at those in society he felt were "higher". It was tiresome, although it was part of his job as a newspaper journalist, Nicole knew. It was true that Julia's place was likely expensive, and the view out of the windows was something that very few people would ever get to appreciate. The gated community they were inside certainly reinforced that wealthier and successful people were somewhat sheltered from what Nathan might call "The Real World."

Julia didn't take any of Nathan's bait, either too smart to engage with him, or blissfully ignorant to his game. Nicole guessed the former as Julia emerged from the kitchen with a couple bowls of cold vegetables.

"Ratatouille" Julia explained.

"Cheap and easy." Nathan observed.

"It's what's available." Julia replied with a firmness in her tone.

Nathan accepted the offer, flashing an appreciative smile as if to correct any allusion to his distaste for vegetarian food, before delving his fork into the mass of aubergine and peppers.

Nicole heaped the food on a fork and began to eat, letting the flavours of herbs and vegetables fill her sinuses. The taste was lovely, and while Nicole would have liked it to have been warmer, Julia explained that the microwave was a little fussy about running on the backup generator.

Nicole nodded to show her understanding, and continued to eat, thankful to be ingesting something with some actual nutritional value. Nathan stayed silent throughout the meal, shovelling each morsel into his mouth. Nicole realised that they must have appeared quite animalistic in the way they ate, but felt their hunger certainly excused any lack of decorum. Julia did not appear too phased by the display, retreating back to the kitchen to retrieve her own serve. She returned to a couch, nibbling at each forkful of food, retaining her delicate air.

Just as Nicole finished her bowl and was about to ask for another serve, the quiet room was suddenly disturbed by a loud shriek.

Nicole sat upright on her seat on the couch, turning around for any indication as to the source. Nathan immediately stood and strode over to a nearby window to glance around the surrounds.

Julia, however, stayed put, still nibbling on her vegetables.

"What was..." Nicole started to ask, but she was cut off as another shriek filled the air. It was a loud noise of frustration, male in tenor, although lacking any kind of strong baritone. The shriek seemed a little more coherent, however, peppered lightly with what could have been interpreted as expletives.

"My brother." Julia replied with deadpan expectancy. She could have been remarking on the weather outside, and it would have had the same level of tired disinterest to which she regarded the subject.

"Is he okay?" Nathan asked.

"He's fine. Probably shitty about no internet." Julia said, continuing to nibble.

"He's only just realising that there's no telephones?" Nicole asked.

"He probably just woke up." Julia replied.

Nicole checked her phone for the sole task it was capable of performing – checking the time. It was 1pm. From Nicole's gesture, Julia seemed to understand what the next question would be.

"He's lived with me a while. He's family, you see. I'm happy to have him, I mean, what else am I going to do with all the spare rooms in this place? Besides, it means the place stays somewhat secure when I'm out of town."

"The gated community not secure enough for you?" Nathan asked, to which Nicole immediately shot him an angry glare. He was always trying with these "gotcha" games.

Julia again disarmed him, "People climb fences." she replied, adding a gentle wave of her hand.

Nicole was starting to like this singer. She was young, and carried herself with the confidence that the young and beautiful often do. Her replies to Nathan's questioning suggested a level of tact and wisdom that surprised Nicole. At that age, Nicole had been brash and combative, putting people back in their place with sharp wit and astute retorts. Julia took a far more mature approach to the likes of Nathan, not meeting his accusatory tone head-on, but letting his barbs brush past as easily as pushing through the branches of a willow tree.

There was a decisive thumping sound which grew in loudness, the originator of the hefty shrieks approaching the room in which the group sat. There was a door at the far end of the storey, which flung open, causing the walls to momentarily creak from the rush of air. At the opening stood a mid-sized human male, looking dishevelled and confused. He appeared soft. Not overweight, only soft. His face wore the growth of many days of neglect, but his features were clearly cut from the same cloth as Julia's. Had he lost some weight, Nicole might have considered him handsome, but the figure that appeared before them was breathing heavily in a fashion that Nicole found a deterrent.

"There's no inter..." he said, stopping in mid outburst to regard the different people he saw in the room. He paused for a mere moment before restarting his sentence, the desperation in his voice suddenly absent, "Do you know what's going on with the internet?" he asked, continuing to breathe in long draws.

"The city is out." Julia said, "and things are bad."

"Storm damage?" the soft man asked.

"We think so." Nicole said. The soft man turned to her, his expression flickering through a series of confused looks before he settled on a mask of curiosity.

"You're the politician..." He started, tilting his head as he attempted to recall where he might have seen Nicole before, "You're in charge of..."

"Emergencies is one of my portfolios." Nicole finished for him, "And we're in an emergency now."

His curious face twitched for a second, which Nicole understood to be further confusion as to why she was sitting in the lounge room. Julia took the brief moment of silence to perform a quick introduction.

"This is my brother, Patrick" Julia said, "and maybe we need to fill him in on what's going on."

Patrick appeared distant as the group relayed the situation and predicament to him. During moments that Nicole felt he should have been genuinely surprised, Patrick seemed glazed and unsympathetic. His eyes darted slightly from side to side, contemplating the information, and seeming to reconcile the story against the logic in his mind. He twitched slightly in the eye as Nicole described the military road block out of the city. He spoke again after they detailed the near-tragedy that had occurred near the entrance to the estate.

"So, no contact with the outside world?" He asked.

"No. We're locked in here." Nicole said, "We'll need to await some kind of all-clear."

"How are they going to let us know that things are 'all-clear'?" Patrick asked, clearly sceptical.

"We don't know." Nicole said, some resignation creeping into her voice.

"Why is the military involved?" Patrick continued.

"We don't know." Nicole said again. Having detailed the story to him, she thought that Patrick would realise that everyone was just as confused as he was.

"Don't know? Or won't tell?" Patrick asked, narrowing his eyes at Nicole.

"Thank you!" Nathan said, slumping back into his seat, "There's something afoot here, and I'm going to find out what."

Nicole glared at Nathan, "You just won't accept it that this is a disaster, and that we just gotta let the recovery workers do what they can."

"It's just too weird." Nathan countered, "It's affected everyone except us. Why is that? What has everyone else experienced that we haven't? Have they drank different water to us or something? You can't tell me that the Government doesn't know something about this."

"There's no conspiracy here." Nicole stated with a sharp barb, "And we can't make any conclusions until we know more. Trust me, if I had any more information about this, I'd let you know."

"That sounds just like what I'd expect from a politician." Patrick retorted.

"Shut up, Patrick. We all want to get through this." Julia interjected, "being a jerkface doesn't help."

Patrick bristled at Julia's admonishing, but seemed to slowly calm himself as though conceding the point, "Perhaps. It'll all come clean eventually, I'm sure." He said, shooting Nicole an accusatory glance.

Nicole gave him a shrug, deflecting his attempt to make her uncomfortable. Even if she had supposedly "known more", she still knew how put up a veneer of denial. She'd dealt with journalists and people long enough to know how to sate their enquiries while offering very little. But in this instance, she was genuinely in the dark.

Nathan nodded along with Patrick's assertion, but remained quiet. Nicole knew Nathan was stewing over the situation, and was likely happy to have a parallel thinker in Patrick. The two shared a few glances with each other, which Nicole interpreted as a silent confirmation of an alliance between the pair. Julia seemed oblivious to the exchange, or perhaps didn't care, electing to return to the kitchen with her bowl.

"Regardless, we're going to need some food." Julia said from the kitchen.

"You didn't shop?" Patrick called.

" _You_ didn't shop?" Julia shot back.

"I was busy." Patrick explained.

"I was earning." Julia said.

"You're between albums. You weren't earning." Patrick replied.

"I still earned more than you this past month." Julia said.

Patrick twisted his expression into one of mild discomfort, and opened his mouth to fire back another sentence, however no noise became audible. The tension between the pair was thick and taut, like a heavy rubber band pulled to its limits.

"So, we are going to need supplies." Nicole said, "We could be here a while. The supermarkets should still have stock that hasn't spoiled yet, so we can check them out."

Everyone in the room turned to Nicole, seemingly receptive to the idea. Nicole smiled her best smile, happy to take charge of the situation. She knew that people, when confronted with uncertainty, typically wanted someone to take control, and that was a role in which she was familiar.

It felt good to be doing something useful. Nicole had felt lost while her and Nathan were still trying to find their feet in this weird new world, but finally she had found something to do.

"The closest supermarket is down the road a bit." Julia said, "It's an easy walk."

"We could take the car," Nathan suggested, "It's a bit scratched up, but still drivable."

Nicole disagreed, "We should probably save fuel. Besides, the only way we opened the gate was pushing through with the car."

"So? We can push again." Nathan reasoned.

"The gates don't swing both ways." Nicole replied, leaning in to reinforce her point, "We could bust the gates with the car, but I wouldn't recommend it. We gotta keep those walkers out."

"Assuming there's no walkers already inside the fence." Nathan argued.

He had a point, Nicole surmised, pausing briefly as she contemplated the situation. It was true that the car would be handy in carrying supplies, but they really should only rely on the car for trips that can't be covered when walking.

"If it's not far away," Nicole said, turning to Julia for confirmation before resuming her talk, "we shouldn't rely on the car for these kinds of tasks."

"I'm not walking to the shops." Patrick said, folding his soft arms across his thick chest, "I might just stay back here and try to get communications working."

Nicole knew this was an excuse to get out of work. She shot Patrick a look of disdain, "There's nothing you can do with communications right now."

"You don't know how good I am with computers." Patrick said.

"The problem isn't a computer one. It's an infrastructure one." Nicole stabbed, "Tapping on keys in the basement isn't going to bring your precious internet back."

"I'm on the lower floor. Not the basement." Patrick replied, if somewhat sulkily.

"You're clearly in the basement." Nathan offered.

"No. It's different to a basement. It's the _lower floor_." Patrick tried again, "My room has a window. Basement's don't have windows."

"Some basements do." Nathan said, "Little windows."

"The lower floor has big windows." Patrick said, looking satisfied with himself. He refolded his arms across his chest again to emphasise his point.

"'Lower-floor' tapping on keyboards won't bring back physical wires." Julia spoke, siding with Nicole. Nicole smiled in appreciation at the solidarity. She felt she was losing control of the group, but thankfully Julia's insertion into the chat brought the other two back into the realm where things mattered. It helped that Nathan was a sucker for a pretty face, which Julia delivered. If Nicole had any attraction to Nathan beyond his physicality, she might have been annoyed with the look of admiration he would sneak to Julia, but Nicole ignored it. Nathan was fairly simple, when one distilled him down to his base. He enjoyed being the charmer, and he revelled in trying to stand out. He wasn't a philanderer by any means, pursuing people for empty contact and sex, but rather seemed to enjoy exuding confidence, and influencing people with his stature.

Which is why Nicole held a dark enjoyment for putting him back in his place.

"We need as many hands as we can get to carry supplies back," Nicole reasoned, "and the more eyes in our group to help look out for trouble, the better."

The group remained silent after Nicole had finished. She knew that everyone held some trepidation of leaving the cosy, comfortable space they were in, but they needed to gather their resources.

"How many hours are left on the generator?" Nicole asked Julia.

"I dunno. A few hours maybe?" Julia said, clearly guessing.

"We should save the fuel there too. We should turn it off and only use it at night time." Nicole suggested.

"Won't that mean the food will spoil during the day?" Nathan asked.

"We'll figure something out." Nicole said, putting the problem aside for later. She turned to Julia and held her arms out to present her less-than-comfortable attire. She couldn't keep wearing these semi-formal work clothes for what she had planned, "Do you have anything a little more comfortable?" She asked Julia.
Chapter 8

The technician had recoiled from the window and thumped back against the far wall. He was watching the figure behind the glass pace slowly back and forth along its parallel, tying to make sense of its situation. The shape seemed at ease, if a little lost. The figure's intonations for a "hug" had receded and now he was just treading about the room lightly, without purpose and undeterred by the darkness.

Every now and then, the figure's features would light up as he illuminated his smartphone, bathing the immediate area in a bluish corona for a few seconds before extinguishing again. At first, the figure checked the screen multiple times in a minute, but as the seconds passed the frequency of the lighting diminished. The technician could also hear the shape's breathing, at first pulsating quickly as the curse began to usurp him, but eventually giving way to an easy drawing of breath.

The technician's confusion remained, however. As evidenced by the shape wandering the room next to him, the problem mustn't have been airborne in the pollen, as he had initially diagnosed. The way that the shape would periodically check his phone reminded the technician of all the people he usually saw wandering the city on any given day. Head down and staring at their glowing rectangle.

The power was out across the city, which meant that no mobile phone networks would be operating. At first the technician thought that perhaps it was something on the phones that was causing the odd behaviour with people, remembering the one person he saw in the vacant lot outside earlier, checking his phone. He entertained the thought for a moment that the smartphones were emitting something that affected the wanderers outside, but he realised that made no sense.

If it affected them, why didn't it affect him?

Or was he infected, but maybe it took a little while for the symptoms to show?

No, he knew. It wasn't a problem with the phones, or at least not coming directly from the phones.

The problem was from the lack of phones.

Patrick's objections to being dragged outside the house persisted until he reached the front door of the abode. Perhaps realising that his loud protests would likely bring about the attention of the nearby walkers, he clamped his mouth shut the moment that fresh air met his face. Nicole was thankful for the quiet, and continued to revel in the group's newfound direction. They encountered no other people, walker or otherwise, as they weaved through the estate. Julia indicated that there was a pedestrian-only gateway to the side of the community, through which they could exit. The moment they reached the gate – a black, wrought iron design - both Julia and Nathan took on an instant veneer of vigilance. They were about to venture beyond their safe haven and into the world of those who were infected. They needed to be sharp.

They remained cautious and on look-out as the group continued their trek to the nearby shops, discreetly pointing out walkers so that they could negotiate a new path without drawing the attention of the group.

The shops, as Julia had indicated, weren't very far away at all. It was on a large portion of land, carpeted extensively in concrete, asphalt and painted lines. The sole food store stood at the end of the car park, standing prominently in the shopping zone, flanked with various other enterprises surrounding the store. Post services, modest accountant firms, medical offices and banks stood alongside the sole food proprietor. Despite its prominence in the precinct, the food store itself was quite modest and basic, similar to the many other convenience stores that littered the city-scape. The swelling hope that Nicole had felt was immediately lessened as she noticed that the doors were already opened, and a number of walkers were already aimlessly ambling outside the shop's perimeter.

"They beat us here." Patrick observed, "Better go back." he finished, making no attempt to hide his reluctance to be outside his home.

"Don't be such a wuss." Nathan countered, "We weren't racing them to come here. We should have known it wouldn't be an easy task, and besides, they probably need food just like we do."

"I thought zombies eat the living." Patrick asked.

"They're not zombies." Nicole said, "I don't know what they are. They're human, but they're just not... people."

"Zombies are the animated dead." Julia chimed in, "These people aren't dead."

"They're clearly dead inside." Patrick said.

"I dunno." Nathan added.

Nicole agreed with Nathan's immediate reluctance to label the walkers as anything that could be construed as zombies. She leaned forward so as to observe the walkers in the lot, observing them from their vantage point on the precinct's perimeter. Through the doors she could see a number of other walkers inside, reaching onto various displays and tables to get fruit and other produce that hadn't spoiled.

"They're taking the food." Nicole said, confirming that the walkers were seeking sustenance.

"They're looting?" Julia asked, her eyes widening somewhat at the prospect.

Nicole continued to view the gathering of people, watching how they were interacting and moving. Everyone in and near the store was calmly going about their task, and there wasn't any rush to get anything specific. Nicole even thought she saw one walker hand an item to another walker – an apple.

"Definitely not looting. They even look like they're sharing." Nicole said, the emphasis in her voice lending an air of confusion.

"As in, they're playing nicely?" Julia asked.

Nicole nodded in confirmation, continuing to stare at the shop to make sure that she hadn't imagined the display. She gazed at the shop intensely, trying to make sense of the mess of bodies at the store, however she did again see one walker find an item, inspect it, and then hand it to another one.

"They're sharing." Nicole said.

"Why would they share?" Patrick asked, "It's every man for themselves now. Surely they are fighting over whatever they can lay their hands on?"

Nathan sighed, "No, I agree with Nicole. They're definitely working peacefully over there."

"They're like a hive-mind then." Patrick said.

"How? Are they telepathic or something?" Julia asked, "That's just stupid."

Nicole hissed at the others, hoping to have them lower their voices and not garner any attention. She gestured by pushing her hands with the palms downward to emphasise her desire for calm, "We don't know anything and we shouldn't just jump to conclusions. They seem to be working peacefully together and they're not competing with each other. That's all we can tell from here."

"So we should be able to just barge in there and take some food?" Nathan asked, "So long as we don't get overwhelmed."

"We should wait for the right opportunity." Nicole explained.

Patrick groaned a little in frustration, "I just want to get this done and go home." he moaned.

Nicole ignored his protest, having quickly grown accustomed to his whining. She again turned her attention to the shop, watching the walkers step about the store, regarding each other with nary a signal of appreciation. Despite this apparent dismissal of those around them, the walkers still seemed content to share what they found. They didn't interact beyond the simple act of transferring food from one palm to the other.

"They're not competing." Nicole mused to herself, but audible enough for the others to hear, "It's like they're... content."

The others shot Nicole quizzical glances.

"They're just doing what they need to survive." Nicole explained, "Nothing more and nothing less. I think they're just content."

"Sounds horrible." Julia said.

Patrick didn't seem as concerned as Julia, "At least they're getting along," he said, "They're not competing or looting, so that's gotta be a good thing."

"He might be right," Nathan said, "In many other disasters I've covered, there is often widespread looting as everyone looks to get what they want and get out. There is little regard for everyone as a whole, and civilised behaviour just gets forgotten about."

"Except that tsunami in Japan," Nicole countered, "the people there were openly sharing with each other and making sure that everyone got their needs met."

"So, you're saying that we're in a situation like Japan then?" Nathan asked, "Were those people 'content', like what you're suggesting here?"

Nicole grimaced at Nathan, annoyed at his insistence on debating her, even at this time. She did notice, however, that a couple of the "content" walkers had turned their attention to the group.

"We can't argue now," Nicole hissed to Nathan, "We're drawing attention to ourselves. We should move onto another place. Maybe we'll find some food that isn't so..." she paused to think of the correct word, "infested." she finished, immediately hating herself.

"The next nearest store is too far to walk to." Julia said.

"Car?" Nathan asked.

"We need to save fuel." Nicole reiterated.

"So, it's this place for food, or it's nothing?" Patrick asked, his tone of voice dubious on the idea.

"Surely we can sneak in somewhere, or maybe we wait until it's dark. We don't know if the contented will simply go home when they're done." Nicole said. It was true. For all the encounters they had experienced with the walkers – the Content – they didn't know very much about how they moved, and what they actually did. Nicole looked back over the car park to the store, noticing again that the Content who had noticed them had begun their slow shamble toward them, "Besides, we've been seen. We should maybe come back later." Nicole finished.

The group all turned to confirm Nicole's observation, and all quickly agreed to the idea that they all return when it was darker.

"So, if they're all content, where's the danger?" Patrick asked as the group sat around in the couch horseshoe back at Julia's house. They hadn't yet turned the generator back on to power the lights, and they were all seated, staring inward to the circle, focussed upon the coffee table in the horseshoe's centre. The room was a slight orange hue from the descending sun, and shadows from the furniture and outside trees were lengthening across the floor.

No one answered Patrick, which must have annoyed him.

"Where's the danger? Why are we afraid of them?" Patrick repeated.

"We don't know anything." Nicole said, "They might look nice enough, but we don't know what's wrong with them. When we were at Parliament, we saw someone get turned... 'converted' right before our eyes. We simply don't know enough, so we should just be cautious."

Patrick returned his vague stare to the coffee table, likely accepting Nicole's explanation without fully embracing the idea. He still fidgeted with his fingers.

"It's like they're dead inside." Julia said, "No drive. No will. No fire in them."

"They're stagnant," Nathan said, "When you have no reason to compete, then you become flabby and empty. That's a risk that all people largely face, I think. If we have no goal, or objective, then we stop moving and become empty shells."

Nicole agreed with Nathan's sentiment, but didn't say anything additional.

Patrick continued fidgeting, "So, do we need to get them something to do?" he asked, perking his face up a little with some hope.

"I don't think _you're_ going to help in that regard," Julia barbed, "You've been occupying space here for years without any kind of direction or goal."

"I study when you're not here." Patrick said with some indignation.

"Yeah?" Julia replied, "Study who? Pictures of celebrities who I've met, but _you_ can't actually talk to because you become a mess of nerves around them?"

Patrick quietened, recoiling a little but murmured a quiet word about how he "coded".

Of course he writes code, Nicole thought to herself, Patrick seemed to be a walking, talking stereotype of _that_ culture. His freeloading off his sister seemed to be a sore point between the siblings, Nicole surmised.

"Considering how little we know, Patrick's ideas are something to work with." Nicole said, "Trying something is better than doing nothing."

"Instead of waiting for those outside the city to come up with a solution?" Nathan asked, "Why should we put ourselves at risk when there are people with resources who are actively working on this?"

"I can't just sit and do nothing." Nicole said, "We're in the middle of this disaster, and there is no communication going out of the city. If we can find out what we can, perhaps we can get whatever we learned out of the city when we can find some communications that work."

"Can't the military send some scientists in with Hazmat suits or something?" Julia asked, "I saw a movie once where they did that."

"Do we want the military involved?" Nathan asked, "I saw a movie once where the military just obliterated an infected city. Boom. Gone. Problem solved." he turned to Nicole, "They wouldn't order anything like that, would they?"

Nicole shook her head, not in refutation, but in ignorance, "I don't know." she said.

"How could you not know?" Patrick asked, "You're one of those people in charge!" He grew agitated, his brow lowering in a show of intimidation, "What aren't you telling us?"

"I honestly don't know!" Nicole reasoned, "I look after the recovery efforts after disasters like this. I don't actively get involved. I can assure you that any kind of military intervention would come from a different Minister to me."

"You can't just plead ignorance here." Patrick rebuked.

"Not everything is a Government conspiracy, either." Nicole spat back.

The group exploded into bickering, their voices descending into a wordless cacophony of whistles and growls. They each pointed at each other for being a contributor to the problem they all faced, with Julia chastising Patrick in places, and Nathan even accusing Nicole's Recovery programs as being simply visible efforts designed to make it look like the Government was doing good without actually doing anything.

Then there was a knock on the door.

The group stopped the noise in an instant, turning their attention immediately to the door on the other side of the foyer. It was a large, thick door with a deep stain to the wood. It stared back at the group blankly, concealing the secret that lie behind it.

"Expecting anyone?" Nicole asked Julia, who shrugged.

The door replied with another knock, this time louder.

"What?" Patrick called.

The door replied with a succession of knocks, each one louder than the last.

"Go 'way!" Patrick ordered.

The door replied with more knocks before falling silent for a number of seconds. Gradually, a noise began to murmur from behind the thick panel. More noises joined the first noise, harmonising in a macabre song that jump-started Nicole's heart, raising her panic levels and twisting the faces of her counterparts into one of shock.

It was the low, humming call for a hug.
Chapter 9

The revelation was like an electric shock to the technician. It gave him a jolt that began in his temples before coasting out to the extremities of his skull. He regarded his own phone for a moment, marvelling in how its simplicity must have been the reason for his immunity to the affected people. He always liked his dumbphone; how it required charging sporadically and served a very focussed purpose. The technician, despite having been involved in telecommunications for quite some time, didn't feel the need to be connected on a level that he saw others participating.

He stared ahead into the dark room, listening to the shuffles of the nearby shape.

His daughter had signed him up for social media, if only so he could view her photos when she travelled. Even then, he didn't use the internet very much, still preferring the solid, tangible media to read like books and papers. The musty smell from an aged tome seemed far more wholesome than the eerie glow of a smartphone. It seemed that his irrational aversion to such new technology was, in this case, his saviour despite having been ridiculed for being a luddite by his daughter.

He hoped she was okay.

The thought of his daughter wandering around with an empty look on her face as she struggled to cope without her connection filled the technician with sudden worry. He cursed himself for meddling with the data centre's operations. This wasn't what he was hoping to achieve.

He didn't foresee this happening. How could he have?

All he wanted to do was show his bosses how important his job was, and how the hard work he did was taken for granted. Nobody seemed to care for what he did, and they only ever seemed to give him the time of day whenever their things didn't work. He would quickly fix their problems, and after his fleeting moment of relevance, he would then be returned to his normal status of being ignored.

Taking out a data centre for a day or two should have shown them that he was, despite his age, still required. He had knowledge and skills, and wanted to pass them down and mentor a new mind, but from his management there was only talk of internets, cloud solutions and the like. Management didn't seem to realise that there was a whole foundation that supported such systems, and that he kept it all together.

But management just wanted to give the problem to someone else.

The technician seethed as his mind conflicted with itself over his desire to be heard versus the well-being of his daughter, whom he assumed was in trouble. The internal debate raged for mere seconds before he concluded that he'd erred.

He needed to fix the data centre. But with the power out, he probably needed help.

And he needed a cigarette.

"Hug" came the voices from behind the door. The baritone song of the Contented reverberated through the solid timber of the door. The voices were interspersed with the occasional empty thud, as though the creatures across the threshold were pawing away at the obstruction with open palms. Their cries were insistent, yet not aggressive. The group inside the room stood staring at the door for minutes, neither moving away from the threat and not stupid enough to investigate.

"What now?" Patrick asked, breaking the silence from the quad.

"We barricade ourselves in?" Nathan offered.

"If there's enough of them, they'll find a way in." Julia replied, "We either leave now and find shelter elsewhere, or we wait until more of them get here."

It was a reasonable summary of the situation, Nicole thought. Sure, the group of Content outside weren't strong enough to break through and into the house, but that was no guarantee that many more of them couldn't.

"We don't have a lot of food for four of us, either." Nicole said, "It's probably best to get away and find a refuge somewhere."

"Where?" Patrick asked.

Nathan had walked across the room to the large window that overlooked the city. The view was static and without movement or shimmer. When viewing from afar, the city's lights would twinkle like stars, yet the powerless metropolis stood as cold as a glacier, overbearing in its massiveness. Nicole joined Nathan at the window, scanning her view across the panorama, looking for any kind of indicator of where they should go. A beacon. Anything..

In the dwindling light, the scape grew blue-grey with the sunset painting the high points of the view in orange. The wind gently pushed the branches of nearby trees, their green leaves retaining splotches of orange and amber from the retreating sun.

One splotch through a tree seemed to keep its strength of vibrant colour, even as the shadows crept up the trunks.

"There." Nicole said, pointing in a westward direction.

"What?" Julia asked. Patrick walked over to join Nicole and Nathan by the window, squinting his eyes to will his vision into seeing more.

"I see a light. Someone else has power, it looks like." Nicole said.

"It's not a reflection of something else? The sun can play tricks with the light at this time of day." Julia said.

"I can't say for sure," Nicole replied, "But it's something that could be better than staying here."

"Could it be a trap?" Patrick asked.

Nicole and Nathan regarded Patrick with an incredulous stare. They needed to say nothing, but the strength of the implication behind their eyes was intense – trap by whom? And why?

Patrick shrugged, "We don't know anything about these Content folks. I wouldn't put anything past them."

As if to acknowledge Patrick's words, the pawing at the door became louder. The call for embrace escalating.

"Is there another way out of the house?" Nicole asked Julia.

"There's an exit near Patrick's room on the _lower floor_." Julia said, emphasising the final two words to suggest to Patrick that she didn't really consider it a basement.

"It's pretty secluded as well," Patrick said, "Many wouldn't know it was there unless they were specifically looking for it."

"Alright." Nicole said, "Sounds like a good start. We'll get out of here through there."

"And we'll take the car?" Nathan offered.

"How will we get it out?" Nicole asked, trying to sound reasonable, but letting some frustration creep into her voice, "The gates won't let us go that way."

"We'll slam our way through?"

"You'll likely not have any car after that." Julia said, "Those gates are pretty strong."

"You always think you know best." Patrick said to Julia with petulance, "Do you know how big their car is? The mass? An object of greater mass will always fare better in an impact. Any idiot knows that."

"Well maybe you can drive, if you're so willing to roll the dice on that." Julia fired back, "Don't run to me when your face and arms are bruised by an airbag."

Patrick recoiled a little, and his face soured like a toddler being denied a lollipop. He folded his arms across his chest but said nothing, not conceding the point, but not offering a rebuttal.

"We should probably be discreet." Nicole said diplomatically, "A car would be nice, I think, but at this point we're probably better being quiet, and saving fuel just in case we come back."

"We're not coming back." Patrick sulked, his face still wrinkled in the lemon expression.

"Yes we are, when everything is solved." Julia asserted.

"If we survive." Patrick said.

Nathan gave him a reassuring pat on the back, clearly trying to deescalate the situation, "If we stick together, I'm sure we'll do okay."

Patrick seemed unconvinced, "Just don't leave me behind." he said finally, returning his eyes to the door to review the situation with the Content. The door thudded again.

The group quickly gathered some short-term supplies into a small carry-bag that Julia produced; water, fruit and some snacks. They handed the small bag to Patrick to carry, Nicole figuring that giving him a task for which he was responsible was a way to get him properly engaged in their journey. He took the bag reluctantly, throwing Nathan an irked look, as though he felt the journalist was a better candidate for being a pack animal.

The thudding on the door kept its regular rhythm and insistence, but never seemed to grow to a level which would cause the four some distress.

Nicole was happy with finally getting some movement happening. The bickering before was a pointless distraction, and it was that kind of needless to-and-fro that was the bane of her own job. A pressing matter would sometimes be shelved in favour of points scoring and winning. In that world, a compromise was akin to complete loss, so very rarely was a middle-ground struck.

Although there was probably no middle ground when it came to Nathan and that car.

Prepared for the outside, the group followed Julia through her house and to the stairs to the lower floor. Along the way, Nicole noted the modern décor and the myriad spoils of Julia's profession hanging around the hallways. Multiple dresses were draped over headless mannequin torsos, each one showing an ever-plunging reveal of the white or black plastic body underneath. Nicole never imagined herself able to wear such items, even when she were younger, and she sometimes envied those with the confidence. But her workplace would consider such brazen displays of fashion unbecoming, unprofessional or perhaps needlessly vain. She wanted respect, not admiration.

The house grew darker as they lowered down into the house. Nicole fumbled around in the dark for the railing, finding the timber easily. Nathan rested his hand on her shoulder from behind her, and she took surprising solace in his touch. They didn't know what awaited them outside, and they might need to flee or fight.

And they didn't have much with which to fight.

Nathan was tall and built with some solidity. Nicole was quite fit and she felt like she could handle herself. Julia was very slender, which was the polar opposite of Patrick, who was solid in ways dissimilar to Nathan. The siblings would likely be ineffectual in a scuffle, yet for very different reasons.

The gloom enveloped the group, although not threatening to darken to the point of pitch. They followed Julia through a couple short hallways before arriving at Patrick's room. Nicole sighed, as the basement-dwelling stereotype again rang true for Patrick. The room was a shambles of computer parts, papers, and magazines of age. A desk at the far end of the room accommodated a large computer screen adjacent to a sizeable computer case. That particular environment seemed far more groomed and tidy than the other regions of the hovel. Almost like an altar to the Internet God. The computer itself, Nicole imagined to be thrumming with powerful components if it had the required electricity to engage it.

A large curtain sided the room, preventing light from entering the den. A sharp smell of must assaulted Nicole's nose.

Patrick shifted his weight with an unease, "Just go through here, okay. No need to stay too long." he said.

"We should plan our escape." Nicole hissed quietly.

"Just be quick about it." Patrick said.

"What are you afraid of?" Nathan asked. Had they not been in a delicate situation, Nicole might have considered the question pertinent. But this was no time to question people's motives.

"It his room." Nicole told Nathan, "You wouldn't want people rummaging around your stuff."

Patrick eased his stance, exhaling in some relief at Nicole's words while Nathan shot her a perturbed glance. Nicole disregarded both reactions.

Julia crossed to the curtains, grabbing one and walking along its rail, opening the fabric to reveal a large glass sliding door. Beyond the window was some brickwork paving next to a large growth of thick garden. Unkempt greenery cascaded over various parts of the bricks and small retaining walls, mostly hiding the soil underneath. A path was barely noticeable underneath the spread of nature.

"Nice yard." Nathan remarked with some smarm.

"Don't judge me." Patrick retorted, "I don't have time to maintain a yard."

"Doing what?" Nathan shot back.

"I do work, you know." Patrick insisted.

"Doing what?" Nathan repeated, "Videogames on that lush computer? Or going on forums or social media to lecture and harass other users?"

Nicole held her hand up to silence the pair, although she noticed Patrick flinch visibly at Nathan's accusation, "Keep your voices down, you two. This is our only exit. Do you want those Content to show up here as well?"

The boys fumed. Nicole again disregarded.

"The quickest way to the exit to the estate is along the path and veer left." Julia explained, "You'll get to the driveway, and if the way isn't blocked, we should be able to slip out. Your car is parked between us and the door we heard the Content at, so having that thing parked there should hopefully slow them down a little."

Nicole and the others nodded along, accepting Julia's knowledge of the lay of the land.

"Shall we go then?" Nathan asked, "Let's get this over and done with."

"Once we're outside, I'm not sure when we'll be truly 'done'" Nicole said, "Nowhere is safe."

Patrick looked like he was about to say something, but he caught himself. Nicole figured he was going to ask why they couldn't stay in the house, but that idea was out and he knew it. Nicole could understand his desire to stay put, but she knew it was a fool's option. The Content would likely overwhelm the house with their sheer numbers.

Nathan unlatched the giant windowed door and began to slowly pull it along its track. The giant pane hissed a low whisper along its axis. A cool breeze met the group, brushing their faces with a fresh springtime scent. The greenery along the path rustled in chorus with the hissing doorway, a sound which Nicole hoped would mask their haste in exit.

After Nathan had opened the door, the group stepped outside with the caution of wild animals approaching a human. Nicole strained her ears for any tell-tale shambling sound of one of the Content walking nearby; any lumbering, slow paces that would signify their proximity.

The group paced along the path, hunched over as if to duck overhead fire. The trees continued their rustle as their heavy leaves criss-crossed in the wind.

"Can you see anything?" Nathan asked Nicole.

"Nothing. There's too many things in the way, but I think we're clear for now." Nicole replied.

The group continued along the path, the overhangs from the trees narrowing the passage, and closing any outward vision they might have.

"Fuck." Patrick said, "The door." He pointed back at the house, and the large glass opening that the group hadn't closed behind them.

"Leave it." Julia said.

"Maybe if it was your shit in that room, you wouldn't be so ready to leave it open." Patrick bit back.

"Most of the house is 'my shit'." Julia hissed.

"And here we are again. You're the earner. You're the worker. You're the good one." Patrick replied, his angry whispers growing in decibels, "I get a say in how to protect my stuff."

"There isn't 'stuff' anymore." Nathan said, "Nobody is going to steal anything. There's more important things to do. Go back to it when we've solved this problem."

"Shut up!" Nicole growled, growing concerned at the group's sudden pause for pointless discussion, "You want to get the attention of the entire estate?"

Patrick huffed indignantly, spinning on his heel and striding back to the house, walking bolt-upright, "It's my stuff, and I'm shutting this door." he said, not loudly, but with a pointedness.

He reached the doorway, grabbing its handle and beginning its slide back to closure. The group looked on in horror as the door howled along the rail and clunked closed. Patrick began fumbling in his pocket for his keys, which jingled softly inside his pocket.

"Fucking idiot." Nicole muttered.

The bushes to the side began to rustle louder. Not the same rustle as the applauding trees in the wind, but sharper slaps with no distinct pattern or harmony with the other trees.

"Patrick!" Julia called as quietly as she could, "Come back here!"

As Patrick turned, he paused. Something had caught his attention, "Oh shit." He said. He began to return to the group, but Nicole's view of Patrick was suddenly obscured as a shape stepped out from the copse between the trio and Patrick.

"Fuck!" came the loud exclamation from Patrick. The sound of the carry bag thudded into the pavers on the ground, the items inside clonking together. One after another, Content stepped out from the foliage, manoeuvring into a half-circle around their prey.

Julia called again to her brother. She began toward him, but Nathan grabbed her by her slender wrist, "We can't." Nathan said, trying to have Julia quickly resolve herself to her brother's fate. The Content had surrounded Patrick.

"We gotta help!" Julia said urgently, "He's a goner." She yanked hard, trying to pull herself from Nathan's grip.

"We can't risk you as well." Nathan said with a graveness in his voice. If Nicole wasn't so panicked, she would have rolled her eyes at Nathan's needless over-drama.

"But...!" Julia objected, but was cut short as Nathan tugged her back along the path.

Patrick's yelps grew heightened, escalating to horrific screams as the Content closed around him. Nicole continued her retreat, but glanced back over her shoulder to gauge the distance between them and the group of Content. She didn't want to see the result of what they were doing to Patrick, but at the same time she held a gruesome curiosity. Perhaps in the gloomy light, she could still witness a Content's transformation without seeing the complete horror.

As the Content moved around Patrick, Nicole could make out the nerd's face, mouth opened wide in a scream. His eyes were equally opened wide as Patrick struggled against the force of the Content around him. Their arms wrapped around his chest and waist, and over his shoulders as the pulled him in closer. Their heads leaned into him as they pressed their bodies into the hideous embrace.

Patrick's mouth remained open, but the heightened scream began to slowly fade. The shrillness in his voice descended down to his regular voice. His eyes softened from wide-open terror to a regular, relaxed state.

Nicole stopped to watch, catching Nathan and Julia in confusion. They stopped too.

Patrick relaxed visibly, the arch of his back soothing and his shoulders falling slowly. His mouth closed as his scream faded to silence and his face became a mask of serenity. He then parted his lips slightly.

"This isn't so bad." He murmured. His voice sounded alien and unfamiliar to Nicole's ears. While she had only known him for mere hours, he had always sounded agitated and in a perpetual state of tension. His body language always revealed him to be on edge, but as the Content withdrew from around him, he seemed far more relaxed.

"This isn't so bad." He said again with easiness.

"That can't be him. That's not him." Julia said, shocked and alarmed, "He's gone!"

Turning to face the group, Patrick slowly ascended his arms toward them. He tilted his head slightly to the side and an inquisitive look spread across his face. He reviewed them for a moment, and he began to ease more, the expression he wore becoming sympathetic and almost pitiful, "Hug?" he asked before starting a slow walk toward them, away from the horde who had captured him, shifting awkwardly over the uneven pavers of the garden.

"We gotta go." Nathan said.

Julia looked on at her brother with sorrow and nodded with acceptance, "We'll fix you." she promised to the slowly advancing figure with outstretched arms, "We'll get to the bottom of this, and return you to normal."

Nicole offered Julia a soft smile, trying to convey some sympathy, but she could only feel a numbness. After offering Patrick a silent farewell in her mind, she turned and continued on down the path, leading the trio away from their fallen partner and onward to search for the light they had seen.
Chapter 10

The technician stomped at the outdoor bench with heavy heels, looking to splinter some shards of the wood away. He was making quite the commotion, and as a result a number of the shambling walkers were stalking the perimeter of the data centre's compound, looking at him with concern. A spooky concern.

The technician couldn't remember a time where he'd seen so many worried faces. The light yellow dusting on their skin added to the oddness of the moment.

He disregarded the circling people and continued to stomp down at the table. There were a number of trees in the compound as well, but they were far too green for what he needed. Luckily a lot of the dead leaves from winter were still strewn around the yard, which would be a great benefit to what he planned. He thanked the data centre nerds for their lack of maintenance and for not sweeping up.

He puffed periodically from the half-finished cigarette he had found. He craved that smoke, despite having quit years ago, and he luckily had his own lighter in his pocket. It was a handy tool for shrink-wrapping wires together. He knew it was unsavoury for him to be smoking half-cigs he found on the ground, but he was desperate.

The technician didn't know what would happen once he lit the pile he had built, and whether it would attract more walkers or perhaps fend them off, but at least he could send out a signal to anyone else who might not have been affected. Or infected.

Nicole was thankful for the more comfortable clothes she had taken from Julia earlier that day. Their trek to find the beacon felt long and arduous, and the thought of embarking on the hike with her work clothes was a thought that Nicole didn't particularly care for. Julia's clothes seemed to fit her well enough, albeit a little tighter around the waist than she would have liked, but it wasn't too uncomfortable.

The streets beyond the estate weren't completely empty, with a few Content wandering the paths. However they were easily avoided, and didn't seem to notice the trio.

Nathan seemed lost in his own world as they continued through the suburbs, Nicole thinking that perhaps he was replaying the events with Patrick over and over in his head. Nicole had said to him before that they couldn't have done anything to help Patrick, and he replied with a weak smile and no words. Julia was equally silent, apart from the odd sniffle as she too reconciled the thought of losing Patrick to the horde. To the Content.

Nicole had offered her a pledge to find and fix the problem that had overwhelmed the city, so that Julia could keep her earlier promise to Patrick, although she hid any ideas of how that could be achieved. She wasn't even sure _if_ Patrick could be "fixed". She could only offer assurances.

In the meantime, Nicole needed to keep them all moving forward and motivated. She needed to lead and show strength. Her confidence would be theirs, if not immediately, then over time. Julia's mourning would pass, but for now, Nicole needed to just keep them moving. The beacon of light she noticed before might at least give them a bit of shelter, and maybe some more people to help in their situation. The more people they found, Nicole figured, the better.

Julia's knowledge of the area proved invaluable, the group quickly and easily able to locate the lights. The night had enveloped the trio, and they navigated the dark streets using the LED lights from their phones using whatever charge they had remaining. Luckily their devices held out for the duration of their hour-long walk through the night. The number of Content they noticed had reduced in comparison to the daylight hours, but as to where the Content might have gone in the gloom, Nicole was unsure. Perhaps they returned to their homes to rest?

Nicole wasn't game to find out. Finding the source of the bright light was far more important, and it was with some relief that Nicole rounded the corner of a hedge and saw the bright lights beaming.

They were still in one of the leafy suburbs, and all the verges and lawns were well manicured. Flower beds were visible under the lights, flanking a pathway that lead from the street to the large flat area that the brightness covered. A tennis court.

Nicole thought it curious that someone would elect to light up a tennis court in this situation, but she concluded that if someone wanted a distress signal, they would use whatever they could. The site must have had a generator to power such bright lights.

Nicole looked around the immediate area for any sign of Content. Upon finding none, she started toward the tennis court, encouraging the others to follow. They emerged from the gloom timidly, tentatively, still not entirely sure what to make of the odd light. As they reached the fence, a figure emerged on the opposite side of the tennis court, seated in a wheelchair. He had a tennis racquet across his lap, with a couple tennis balls resting between his thighs. He wheeled around the court with fluidity and quietness, running quickly from the service line to the base line. He picked up his racquet from his lap and started swinging it to warm up his arm. He was an elderly fellow – Nicole guessed in his seventies.

Another figure emerged from the opposite side of the court, not in a wheelchair, but walking at a slower pace. It was an elderly lady wearing tennis whites and carrying a tennis racquet. She walked over to the other side of the court and also began to swing her racquet to warm her muscles.

Surely they weren't going to play, Nicole thought. This isn't the time for games.

"Hit up first?" the man called to the lady.

"If you like." She replied with a pleasant smile.

Nicole, Nathan and Julia walked up to the fence that bordered the court and leaned against the wires, gripping it with their fingertips. The pair of players paid them no attention as they began to hit a tennis ball back and forth, between each other. The man wheeled himself with assurance and expertise, returning each shot from his opponent with a firm swat. She too was very spritely, chasing down each shot and flicking it back over the net.

He would sometimes return the ball after the second bounce, but Nicole understood that it was within the rules of wheelchair tennis to allow.

"Nice one!" he called to her after she hit the ball past him and into the back fence. They both smiled at each other. They still didn't pay any attention to the three people standing at the fence, even though they too were bathed within the radius that the lights afforded.

"Excuse me!" Nathan said.

The two on the court stopped their game for a moment turned to face the group, "Oh these ones talk." the lady said, "That's different."

"Yes. How strange." the man in the wheelchair said, wheeling over to the group. He looked them over for a moment, taking in their comparatively dishevelled appearance in contrast to the players' neat tennis whites.

"We need help." Nicole started.

"We don't have any for you." the man in the wheelchair said, smiling with a genuine pleasantness that surprised Nicole.

"Yes. We only hug our children and grandchildren." the lady explained, obviously assuming that the group were like the walkers.

"We're not Content." Julia said, pausing to correct herself as she realised that the elderly pair weren't aware of the moniker they'd affixed to the infected, "We're not one of them." she finished.

"We still don't have any help, I'm afraid." the wheelchair man said, "We just want to finish our game, thank you."

"Now, now, Reg." the lady started, "Perhaps we should listen and see what they want."

Reg half-turned in his wheelchair to face his tennis opponent, his expression curious but not terse, "Maybe. But I still want to get back at you for beating me yesterday," he said, "These lights won't stay on forever."

The lady addressed the trio, "I'm Ethel. This is Reginald." she said, gesturing to her wheelchaired partner, "I'm afraid we're just an elderly couple, so there's not much help we can offer you. What did you want from us?"

"Our house was overrun." Nicole explained, "And we need somewhere to shelter ourselves. We saw your lights on and thought we'd come over to see what was here."

"It's simply us going out for a game of tennis, dear." Ethel said, "Nothing more."

The trio regarded each other with curious stares. Nicole couldn't fathom the idea that in the midst of a societal collapse, that these two people were more interested in their sport than the chaos around them.

"Can we at least get some food?" Nathan asked, "All the shops around here seem infested with people."

"That's what shops do." Reg said patiently, "They attract people to buy things."

Nicole staggered a little, "Are you two not aware?" she asked, thinking that these two elderly people in their homes had been completely sheltered from the events.

"Oh we're completely aware, dear." Ethel said, "We just don't care."

"Everything's going to shit, and you don't care?" Julia asked, lifting her hands up with incredulity.

"Well, perhaps we would care more." Reg started, "But tennis beckons us." he turned his chair one-eighty and began to wheel away. Ethel turned to look after him but returned her eyes to the trio on the other side of the fence.

"Yes. He's right." Ethel said.

"You're going to leave us out here? You have power and food, surely?" Nicole asked.

"Yes, we do." Ethel replied, "But it's ours, you see. We grow our own food, and we raised money to install our off-the-grid power system. There's enough of us to take care of without having more coming in."

"That's selfish!" Julia cried.

"No, dear." Ethel said with a sincere sweetness and a disarming lack of hostility, "Our food and energy keeps thirty of us fed and warm. We are a close community who look out for each other, when society around us swept us aside and out of sight."

Reg wheeled back around in an arc, facing the trio, "We weren't needed anymore," he called, "so we took care of ourselves. Now we enjoy our time here, because there's nothing for us out there."

Ethel nodded to confirm Reginald's words.

Nicole shook her head, "I disagree. The Government had many programs for including elderly and supporting them. You can't tell me that we did nothing."

"We know what you're saying, Minister," Ethel said, revealing that she recognised Nicole, "But there was never any consultation on what was actually needed. All that was shown was some feel-good campaigns which translated into nothing for us. You didn't help us. You patronised us, thinking that you had more wisdom than generations from before you."

Nicole retreated a little from the fence. Reg continued from Ethel's remarks.

"We saw a society more concerned with its personal pleasures appear over time, leaving behind any sense of consequence. Everything that you people say or do or fight for relates to how you partake in pleasure. It rules you. Your pleasures define you. Your lives depend on it. You pursue it with no regard for building an actual community with actual contact. All you see are fights to win. Pleasure and conflict." Reg said, his voice as sincere and friendly as Ethel's, although losing none of his ire.

"You never wanted our input before," Ethel said to Nicole, "So it should be no surprise to you that we don't want yours now." She bounced a tennis ball beside her, using her racquet to hit it back into the ground and returning it to her hand, "You kids just always seemed to know what's best."

"We lost a friend out here," Nathan said before gesturing to Julia, "And she lost her brother. Can't you provide some empathy?"

Ethel and Reg both shrugged in unison, smiling together.

"We are sorry for your loss, but we have our own community here. I'm afraid we just cannot accommodate you." Ethel said, "But we wish you the best of luck. Hope you find something like what we have built here."

Nicole was aghast. She couldn't reconcile what it was that she was being told. The elderly pair, despite being intensely friendly, were eschewing everything that she had known about a good society – the kind of good society that she had heard people of similar demographic to this elderly couple lament. It annoyed her that the kind of goodwill she heard about from the mouths of seniors was not being exhibited here.

However, the "good society" was now over, Nicole realised. It was every person for themselves, and this couple had clearly staked the ground and was unwilling to concede.

"Aren't you worried that the lights would attract some Content?" Nicole said.

Ethel looked confused or a moment before realising that Nicole was referring to the wandering souls that stalked the suburbs, "It hasn't been an issue just yet. They turned up at the fence a few times today, but we just ignored them. They go away eventually."

"They never ask for a hug?" Julia queried, "Because that's all we've see them do."

Reg shook his head in reply, "We heard it a couple times, usually when I've been frustrated at making a mistake on the court. I'd curse, and they'd ask for a hug. But, again we just ignore them and they usually go away."

Nicole was curious on this last detail, although she couldn't quite piece together how it would help them as a group, "So you expect us to just go? You're gonna just turn us away?" Nicole asked.

"Oh no. Don't look at it that way," Reg said, "I am sure you can just make do with what little resources you have." The final sentence was innocuous enough, but Nicole could interpret the unsaid words that floated silently around them. The words, "Like we always do."

Before Nicole could object, Ethel spoke again.

"Good luck again. Now, if you would excuse us, we must finish our game before the lights go out." she said, before turning away. Reg also spun to wheel away, calling to the side, "Your serve?" he asked Ethel, to which she replied to the affirmative. The two of them moved to their respective sides of the court to begin their match.

Nicole continued staring at them as they began their game. They both seemed very fluid and assured in their hits, as though they had been well-coached and practiced. As the ball bounded back and forth across the court, Nicole's mood dimmed, realising that they needed to find shelter in the cooling inky night.

"Amazing." Nathan breathed.

"Fuck." Julia cursed with a soft exhale, "What do we do now?"

"We need somewhere to hide until morning." Nicole said, "Perhaps we can find somewhere abandoned that has pillows or blankets to keep us warm." she finished musing.

"I think there's a shopping centre nearby." Julia offered, "If we break in there we could find something."

"You don't think there'll be Content at the mall?" Nathan asked with curiosity, although Nicole knew he was speaking rhetorically.

"We need somewhere safe." Nicole said as she continued looking at the two elderly folks playing tennis in their pools of light.

The sun had completely retreated, and the sky was a deep, deep blue. A few of the stars had begun to emerge, looking down upon the city with an empty indifference.

"Where?" Julia asked, "We don't know where is safe. We can't just break into houses in the hope that one is empty."

"There." Nathan said, pointing upward into the sky. Nicole looked at him as though he had gone crazy, not sure what he was suggesting, but then she saw it too. Even against the darkened sky, a solid plume could be seen, soft and billowy but dark. Smoke. Stars winked in and out of view as the clouds of acrid darkness cast in front of them.

"A fire." Nicole said.

"We run _toward_ the fire?" Julia asked, clearly uncertain at running toward danger.

"Fire is warm." Nathan said.

"Fire is uncontrollable." Nicole said, "There's no fire department, I'm guessing. They're all Content too, I'm sure."

"And we can't be sure there won't be an explosion." Julia reasoned.

"It could also be a signal for help." Nathan said, "Someone may have lit the fire intentionally. Things don't burn for the sake of burning."

Nicole looked to interject, about to cite a number of instances that she had known where a fire had broken out in the event of inattentiveness, however she did see some of Nathan's logic.

"We could go and just see the fire." Nicole suggested, "If it's a controlled blaze, we'll go further. But if it's just a building on fire, we'll go somewhere else."

Nicole flinched. "Just" a building on fire. In any other circumstance, the phrase wouldn't have conjured such apathy in her, but in this world they found themselves today, a fire was an inconvenience rather than an emergency.

Julia seemed to understand the situation, and nodded, "Just for a look." she said easily, as confirmation, but probably also to reassure herself.

If they could see the smoke, it was likely the Content could too.
Chapter 11

The technician stood in the yard of the data centre compound, looking upward at the mess of smoke as it ascended toward the deep blue night sky. He knew that he had left it too late to create this beacon, but he knew he had to act quickly. He had scrabbled together some piles of paper from inside the data centre, and had lit the stacks beneath one of the outdoor tables, thinking that the heat would eventually catch the planks of wood and create a larger fire.

The wooden table was still a little sodden from the storm, which had made it difficult to catch alight, but once burning the slats had the coincidental benefit of creating more smoulder. That was fine. The technician hadn't wanted to create a fire for heat, but rather get attention from anyone in the area. He knew he would need some help – any help – to fix the problem he created. His little protest in disabling the data centre had garnered a result that he couldn't have helped, and with limited power supplies around, he was going to need actual human help. It's not something he could do alone.

If this signal didn't work tonight, then there were another four tables for him to light up.

Maybe in the morning.

He glanced out to the wandering people who had surrounded the compound, their faces half-lit from what flames the table had fuelled. Many of them had their heads turned skyward to the column of smoke, while others still aimlessly pawed through the opening in the fence, as though they could will their reach to the technician. Their throats reverberated their ever-lasting desire for a hug.

The fence still looked sturdy enough to keep them out, although the technician wasn't exactly sure how any "help" could get into the compound, if they even saw his signal.

Flames started crackling as the fire started to needle at the picnic table. The fire was starting to catch.

The trio moved with haste through the gloom. After zigzagging through numerous streets and laneways, they were able to roughly pinpoint the source of the smoke. As the sun completely retreated behind the cityscape, plunging the streets into pitch, the trio could still move with some surety toward the acrid pillar.

They didn't encounter many Content on the way, and the ones they did stumble upon paid them no mind, not giving much attention to the signal that climbed upward into the sky.

It was fortunate, Nicole thought, because she could see that her partners of the group were starting to grow tired. Shelter was needed, and maybe a hot meal.

And where there was smoke, there was usually fire. Where there was fire, there was heat. Where there was heat, there could be cooking.

Or burning.

But there would be heat, at the very least. They'd have that.

The brisk pace of their walk kept them somewhat warm in the cooling night, but Nicole did wish that they had brought some more clothing with them. Their urgent departure had sadly given them no time to look for extras, but Nicole did take a moment to again thank that she wasn't wearing her business attire anymore. A few of their trips through some shrubbery had left some soil on her pants, but she wasn't caked enough to feel uncomfortable.

The smell of smoke started to grow as they progressed. On their approach, an orange tinge could be seen to the smoke clouds, lit by the flames beneath them. They wandered down one final street, eventually seeing the source of the fire.

Across a vacant lot was a gathering of Content, all shuffling with no order or rhyme. Nicole could make out a fence behind the group, along with some trees beyond the fence line, and a medium-sized building with two floors. It looked like a secure compound, but not for keeping people inside.

The Content were reaching upwards before dropping their arms back to their sides, unable to grapple at something beyond the fence.

"What's going on?" Nathan asked in his usual manner of narrating the situation. Always thinking out loud, Nicole knew.

"Something's burning." Julia said.

Nicole was beginning to become frustrated with the ongoing dialogue of nothing between the pair, and nearly gave them both a rebuke before she saw movement inside the fenceline. A figure was standing at a level above the group, almost hovering above the congregation. From what Nicole could see in the diminished light and orange glow of the fire, she could see he was dressed in a polo shirt, jacket and some jeans, and he seemed to be drawing periodically from a cigarette – although it was difficult to tell his smoke from the burning table crackling next to him.

He paced on his elevated perch, looking outward into the night, as though searching for something, turning around to peer out in the other direction. As he paced, Nicole noticed that he was standing on a table on the other side of the fence to the Content, who were ambling aimlessly, not seeming to threaten the lone figure, but still gathering in a commendable force. The threat seemed to be from the show of numbers rather than any Content's outward aggression.

The figure did not seem bothered by the Content. He just continued his vigilant scouring of the night. Julia must have noticed him, because she spoke again.

"Someone's there." she said.

Nicole rolled her eyes, unseen by the others in the dark. _Again_ with the obvious, she thought.

"Who?" Nathan asked.

"Some dude." Julia replied.

"What's he doing?" Nathan continued.

"He must have lit the fire, and he's looking for anyone who can see it." Nicole said, "He's made a beacon and he needs help."

"He doesn't look too worried." Julia said.

"He's trapped in the compound. He's stuck and probably needs to get out. He's safe there, and he knows it." Nicole surmised.

"We should help him." Nathan offered.

"Oh, nice of you to point that out." Nicole hissed, "I had decided to let him rot in there." Her sarcastic frustration boiling over at Nathan's offering of the obvious. She was tired, she knew, and her patience was frayed into a mess.

"How do we help him then?" Nathan said, "Ms Ideas?" he added with a not-so-subtle jab. He was clearly tired as well. He never really back-answered Nicole unless he was frustrated.

Or doing his job.

"He can't get out with all the Content circling the area. Maybe we distract the group and draw them away from there?" Nicole said.

"How do we do that?" Julia asked.

"One of us could create a commotion and draw the Content away from him?" Nicole said, "They like to hug, so one of us would need to be hug-bait."

"Who?" Nathan asked.

Nicole looked at him with an expectant expression. He was the tallest out of the trio, and would stand the greatest chance of getting attention.

"Me? Why am I any more huggable than either of you two?" Nathan asked.

"You can get their attention better." Nicole said conclusively.

"Yeah, maybe. But then what? I just run away as they march on me? Doesn't _my_ survival matter?" Nathan asked.

"They walk slowly," Nicole said, "you'll be fine, I'm sure."

"We've only seen the Content walk." Nathan argued, "We don't know that they don't run. What if they _can_ run?"

"Have you seen anyone run for a hug before?" Julia said, "That only happens in the movies, and usually at airports. Besides, if they're truly content, they wouldn't run. Content people don't run."

The distant silhouettes of the Content continued to shamble around, although Nicole noticed that a couple had broken off from the group and were heading in their direction. Nicole started to feel the panic rise, knowing that their argument couldn't last much longer.

"Hurry up and draw them away from us! They're coming." Nicole hissed at Nathan.

" _You_ draw them away." Nathan said.

"You're better at getting attention!" Nicole growled back.

"You're better at hugging!" Nathan retorted.

Julia shook her head, "For fuck's sake." she muttered, turning from the other two and immediately running away, sideways from the approaching Content.

"Wait!" Nicole called after Julia, but it was too late. Julia had bolted.

"I'm a faster runner than him anyway." Julia called back, continuing her strides away. Nicole's panic failed to subside with the distraction that Julia was supplying. This wasn't her plan. Nathan seemed like a better candidate, and Julia acting on her own direction was not ideal.

Nicole's panic rose more as she realised that the Content weren't following Julia's distraction, continuing toward her and Nathan. They weren't running, but still walking in that smooth and aimless pace.

Julia must have noticed that her attempt at distraction wasn't effective. In the gloomy ink of night, Nicole could hear her begin some cries for attention. She yelled out as loud as her lungs would call, her voice becoming almost vibrato in its crescendo. Her words were a mix of attention grabbing "hey" and "over here", but the Content continued to advance on Nathan and Nicole's position.

"It's not working!" Julia called out.

"Be more visible!" Nathan called back.

Nicole looked past the Content and saw the figure behind the fence looking out in the direction of the commotion. He leaned this way and that, trying to pick out anything in the darkness to see.

"How the fuck do I do that?" Julia yelled from the night, "I can't be more visible than I am now!"

"Get to somewhere they can see you!" Nathan replied back, yelling across the vacant lot.

"You're useless, you know?" Julia called, frustration evident in her voice.

At the last sentence, the Content advancing on Nicole and Nathan's position turned to Julia's direction and lifted their arms upward. They wanted a hug.

"That's it!" Nathan called, "Whatever you did, keep doing it!"

More Content were starting to cross the land, arcing toward Julia's position. Many of them had outstretched arms, mimicking the others in the seemingly universal expression for comforting hug.

"I didn't do anything!" Julia said, "But I'm doing more than you fuckwads!"

More Content started to amble toward Julia's position, following the trail of her words as she cursed toward Nathan and Nicole. One by one, the Content moved away from the compound, their voices emanating from within them as they yearned for a hug.

"Good work, Julia!" Nathan called.

"Fuck you, Nathan, you coward!" Julia shouted in reply.

Nathan didn't flinch at Julia's berating, instead turning his attention back to the fence. As the Content filtered away, Nicole noticed a gap forming in the gathering. The attention of all the Content were away from the figure inside the fence and they all were starting toward Julia's location. Nathan began to move toward the compound in the direction of the gap forming in the Content's ranks. Nicole started behind him.

"You don't think you're being too hasty?" she hissed at him as they moved over the vacant lot.

"They don't know we're here." Nathan said confidently, but Nicole was dubious.

"They're not mindless zombies." Nicole said, "Don't you ever think that you're not giving them enough credit?"

"Seize the night." Nathan said, "And maybe we can work out how to help that guy before they come back."

The logic seemed sound, but Nicole didn't like Nathan's "Carpe Noctem". It seemed foolhardy and brash – not what Nicole liked to see, and had she been at work, it would be something that would have chastised her colleagues over whenever they tried to rush through legislation. She grimaced in frustration, but followed along behind Nathan. She glanced back for a moment to look for any sign of Julia, but was only met with darkness and moaning shadows.

Their steps rushed through the grass of the vacant lot as they approached the fence line. Only a couple Content were nearby, although they weren't much of a threat. The figure on the other side of the fence saw their approach, and he waved for them to come closer. He was standing on a picnic table, probably reserved for staff who worked inside the fenceline. Next to the picnic table was that large blaze, a flaming picnic table, belching out its grey clouds into the sky. Small pieces of scrap paper floated up and away from the licking flames, and timbre slats from the picnic table crackled as fuel.

He lowered himself down from his perch and jogged over to the fenceline to meet the approaching pair.

"We've created a distraction." Nicole said, "We can get you out to safety."

To Nicole's surprise the man shook his head, "No, I need your help inside." he said. His voice was aged, likely from the years of smoking. Even in the low light of the crackling fire, Nicole could see that his features were equally aged with his voice.

"Is something wrong?" Nathan asked, "Is there someone else who needs help?"

"No." the man said, his eyes becoming stern.

"Then why should we go in there?" Nicole asked, "Is there food and water?"

"No." the man said simply, reiterating his earlier word.

"Then why?" Nathan queried, his voice growing concerned.

"Because I need your help to fix everything." the man said.
Chapter 12

The technician was glad to see some other faces. Faces that were somewhat cogent, and without a trace of pollen around their noses. The commotion they had brought with them was strange to say the least, but through their own recklessness or savvy, they had reached him. He didn't want to waste time with pleasantries, but just wanted to get to work immediately. He needed to fix things, and fix them now.

He never wanted his protest to have this impact.

"You can fix this?" the woman asked him, clearly referring to the walkers that had stalked around the area for the past day. She was middle-aged and dressed in an odd match of formal and casual attire. Her companion was around her age. Tall and well-built.

He answered her question to the affirmative.

"You know what's going on?" the man asked the technician.

"I believe so," the technician answered, "but we probably should get you inside."

"What can we do to help?" the woman asked.

"I just need some help with the infrastructure inside."

"What is this place?" the man asked.

"Data centre." the technician explained, "Most, if not all, your internet relies on this hub to get the information from one location to another."

The pair reviewed the building with some kind of reverence, as though they were staring at some kind of life-creating monolith.

"Where do we get in?" the woman asked.

The technician reviewed the yard, immediately locating the turnstile that he usually accessed to enter the area, however he knew that the backup power was likely still locking that avenue closed with a strong magnet. There was another gate to the compound, which was for cars and trucks, which was locked with a hydraulic arm. The gate was large enough to allow for two vehicles pass through and was located on the diagonal opposite of the yard to the pedestrian turnstile.

"If we had enough force, we could open that gate." the technician said.

"Force?" the tall man asked, "Such as by ramming it with a car?"

The woman gave the man a stern look.

Clearly there was history there.

"We have a friend who could help." the woman said, "Although she's currently occupied taking the content away from here."

The technician furrowed his brow in confusion at her word "content". It seemed like an odd descriptor, given the context, but her companion quickly explained how they had come to dub the walkers with such a strange moniker. The technician didn't particularly care for titles and labels, but accepted that they had given the walkers a name. People liked to use titles as ready identifiers. It helped them categorise things.

"Should we see if she needs help?" the man asked.

"She's quick. I am sure we would have heard if there was anything wrong." the woman said.

"Well, we can let her in when she comes back." the technician said, "But let's take a look at the gate and see if we can get it open, even if the backup power is holding it in place."

"This place has backup power?" she asked.

"Only enough for the security lock downs." the technician explained, "It ensures the site stays secure, even if the power is cut to the site."

"So you can't cut the backup power?" the fellow asked.

"I'm a Telecommunications technician. Not an electrician." the technician explained.

"So how can you open the gate?" the man asked.

The technician cast his gaze around the yard, dimly lit by the glowing picnic-table-inferno. The technician wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for as he searched the yard, but his eyes eventually rested on a large rock that lay near the door. It was the same rock he had used to get around the locked down data centre.

"I have a master key." the technician said.

Nicole and Nathan followed the instructions from the fellow behind the fence to trace around the compound to the giant vehicular gate. It was a sturdy-looking device; tall and unwelcoming. The man behind the fence claimed to be a technician, but Nicole sent him an dubious look when he arrived to them holding a rock the size of two fists.

"What's that?" Nicole asked.

"My master key." the technician replied matter-of-factly.

"You're going to bash the gate open?" Nathan asked, equally dubious.

"This gate is controlled by a hydraulic arm. I am sure that there's a release latch held inside the protective case for it. Probably a safety mechanism for such situations." the technician explained, gesturing to the pair to provide one of their phones and asking them to turn on the phone's LED flash – a makeshift flashlight. He shone the glow onto the gate, quickly identifying the housing for the hydraulics. The protective case was a metal box, held closed by a padlock.

"See?" Nicole said to Nathan, "No need to crash a car through."

Nathan seemed unperturbed by Nicole's sly admonishing, "There's no release catch for the turnstile?" he asked.

The technician shrugged, "If there is, it'd probably be harder for my master key to work." He lifted the "master key" above his head, and before Nicole could offer protest over the potential noise bringing the Content back to the area, the technician threw it down hard.

The resulting clang echoed around the vast, open area, rebounding from the few walls from nearby buildings and the data centre itself.

The technician sighed for a moment before again retrieving his lock buster and hurling it hard against the box. The box protested with a metallic yelp. The technician shone the light again on its paintwork, showing the scar of damage, and a bent latch for the padlock.

"Couple more should do it." the technician said.

"Looks like cheap metal." Nathan observed.

The technician didn't reply, hoisting the rock above him again and hurling it again. The clang reverberated again around the suburb and the technician gave a satisfied grunt of triumph. He hadn't broken he lock, but the latch itself had come away from the cover, releasing it. He pulled the box open, quickly finding a switch that seemed to release the pressure on the arm. The gate swung easily ajar, allowing Nicole and Nathan to slip into the yard.

"Can you re-lock it?" Nicole asked.

"What about Julia?" Nathan interjected.

"She'll be along, I'm sure." Nicole said quickly in reply, wanting to just be safe inside.

"We risk letting some of the 'Content' in here." the technician said, still fumbling over Nicole and Nathan's name for the Content.

"Where do you need our help?" Nicole asked the technician.

"Inside the main room. It's in the middle of the building." he replied.

"One of us can stand watch?" Nathan offered.

Their deliberations were interrupted by the sound of a thud at the end of the yard that held the turnstile. Heavy breathing and a quiet yelp for assistance could be heard from the fenceline. The group cast their eyes to the source of the noise.

Julia was hard against the fence, reaching inside.

"There's too many..." she said, panting from her running, "It didn't matter how quick I was."

Even from the dim lighting on Julia's face, Nicole could see that she was troubled. Shapes converged on her from outside the ring of light.

"I think I know..." Julia said, "I think I know what the problem is."

"Get around to the other side!" Nicole called, "There's a gate open!" she waved her arm to the direction of the gate.

"I'll get it open!" Nathan assured, beginning to run back.

Julia turned to face the swarm coming toward her, "They hate arguing!" she said, "We can defeat this with no arguing!" She pressed her back into the bars of the fence, not resisting, but not fighting back, "We need _love_. Love conquers all!" Julia continued, "It's with love that we can defeat anything! We win with goodness in our hearts and acceptance of all!"

Julia held her arms out as the shadows formed around her, "Love is the answer!" she yelled, the arms of the Content wrapping around her, yanking her roughly away from the fence and into the murk of night. The group could hear her screams as she disappeared from view.

"Love!" Julia screamed, "Love!"

The screams ascended as she announced her solution over and over before her voice faded to nothing but a small mumble. Nicole strained her eyes to look for any sign of Julia. She knew what to expect, and it still disquieted her, but she wanted to know Julia's fate.

Emerging from the darkness and into the orange light of the bonfire, Julia reappeared at the fence, her eyes vacant and wearing a slight smile. She was joined by a few more faces at the bars, and many arms extended through to beckon to them all.

"Hug?" came the low chorus from the mob.

The group sat in the foyer of the data centre, stunned and tired. They had climbed into the building through a smashed window. The technician had apologised to Nicole and Nathan for the damage, but he explained that it was necessary at the time.

The technician outlined that he had not seen an act of hug before, but outlined that he found it somewhat disturbing. Nicole and Nathan described their experiences, the departure of Patrick, and what they knew of what was happening.

"The storm knocked everything out." Nicole said, "The military have blocked us all in. All we have learned is that all the walkers seem to be at peace with themselves – for all that is worth."

The technician, for a moment, seemed lost in his own world as Nicole explained events.

"What have you seen?" Nathan asked the technician.

"I've watched them quite a lot today." the technician said, "I first thought that the storm kicked up a bunch of strange pollen, and that was what had sent the people crazy."

Nicole nodded to this, the idea making sense, "It's Springtime, and a storm as crazy as last night's is unheard of at this time of year."

The technician toed the floor, "Then I saw some of them – the Content - actively picking up flowers out on the vacant lot, and breathing them in. I thought that was confirmation of my theory." he explained, "But not all of the Content have pollen on their faces. It's true that some of the ones deeply affected do have pollen, but I think their smelling the flowers is only a symptom and not a cause for their condition."

Nathan and Nicole turned to him, their expressions asking for clarification.

"Others I saw, I think they were people on the cusp of turning into Content." the technician continued, "They were walking around, dazed. They would check their phones every now and then and look confused. I think that's when I started to think that there might be more."

Nicole sighed, "You're not suggesting that modern smartphones are evil, are you? That seems a bit silly and obvious."

The technician shook his head, "Well, no. I mean, you two have smartphones and you seem unaffected by the outbreak."

Nathan agreed, "So what is it then?"

The technician stared ahead, pausing for a moment, as though deliberating his next sentence, "I think that people are in a state of 'coming down'" the technician said, easing his words out with a steady pace, as though he was confident of the explanation, but knowing that it sounded outrageous.

"Like, from drugs?" Nicole said.

"I guess," the technician said, "I mean, you've said it yourselves. They all seem 'content'. I think that maybe people have, through their phones, been exposed to a lot of aggression and conflict, and now that they don't have that access to it, they don't know what to do with themselves."

Nicole still felt confused over this hypothesis. It didn't have consistency, "Julia wasn't affected." she observed.

The technician thought for a moment, "What was her job?"

"Singer." Nathan said.

The technician then thought again, pondering over this new information, "Isn't show business one that requires people to be beautiful all the time?" the technician asked, if somewhat rhetorically.

"Well, I suppose," Nicole said, "But that's not conflict."

The technician continued, "She holds herself to a high standard and she needs to maintain that, just to stay in a job. That is its own conflict, don't you think?"

"Her brother wasn't in show business." Nathan stated, before offering a description of Patrick, detailing his nerdy nature, his reclusive lifestyle, and his clear rivalry with his sister.

"I know those kinds of people," the technician said, "and they're shut-ins. They troll the internet for reactions. They escape to the internet because the world made them retreat. Their conflict..." the technician again stopped to gather his thoughts, "it probably comes from inside them. They hate themselves, or at least resent their place in society. Every waking moment is torment to them."

"What about Bernard? We saw him taken at Parliament." Nicole asked.

The technician paused to think for a moment, "Politicians thrive on conflict." the technician offered simply, "If they're not fighting with each other, they're fighting with their voters."

Nicole grew uncomfortable with the technicians summaries, "And us two? I'm a politician and he's a journalist." she pointed to Nathan.

The technician shot her a look that inferred his conclusion, and Nicole cursed to herself, realising what he was getting at. She fought with Nathan all the time. Their entire relationship was built on competing with each other. Even their love-making had an edge of rivalry.

"It's not the technology that made people into this." the technician said, building his sentence in gravity with each word, "It's what people do with it." He said the sentence with finality, letting the words hang in the air to punctuate the importance of that distinction.

"What we're seeing is what happens when they're without it." He finished.

Nicole nodded, starting to understand and appreciate his conclusion. It still seemed a bit rocky in her head, but it wasn't every day that she had her entire approach to relationships shaken. She started, "What about you?" she asked the technician.

"I've never had a smartphone." he replied, "Never got on the 'high'. There might be a whole bunch of people out there who are similar to me, who never had a smartphone. They were never affected by it."

Nicole leaned back against a nearby wall as she sat, remembering the elderly couple who were playing tennis under the lights. She rubbed her temples, "So, if we turn the internet back on, we'll solve the problem?"

The technician nodded, "I believe so."

"So it just needs power?" Stephen asked, "If we just wait this out, then maybe the problem will fix itself when power is restored?"

"Well, there's some work to be done in here first." the technician said.

"To restore power?" Nicole asked.

The technician sighed, gritting his teeth, "To fix what I did."

Nicole frowned, "What? What did you do?"

The technician sighed, as if in resignation, "I broke parts of the data centre."

Nathan looked shocked, "Why would you do that?" He yelped.

The technician shot back, "Because I'm tired of everyone treating me like shit. Everyone wants everything now, and when they get it, it's like I'm invisible. No one cares about the technician when everything is working as it should, but the moment they get an interruption, suddenly it's all my fault.

"Worse yet, I get constant questions on why my job is needed when things are working alright. It never crosses peoples' minds that systems work reliably because I'm actually doing a good job."

"So you thought you'd wipe out a city as protest?" Nathan asked.

"I didn't think it would go this far!" the technician said, growing defensive.

It was then that moans for hugs could be heard from outside, audible through the gaping hole that the "master key" had opened. The technician took a long breath and steadied himself.

"It was only meant to disturb things a little, and the storm was the perfect cover story. It would prove that my job is important. Peoples' internet would go down for a while, and I would then come in to remedy the situation." the technician said, easing the words out calmly, but looking downward with shame.

Nathan continued to frown, "Well, let's fix it!" he said.

The technician looked up "I'm going to need you to help run cable around the data centre."

"Can't you just replug everything in?" Nicole said.

The technician nodded, "But I removed quite a bit of cable. I wanted the fix up to take quite a bit of time, and maybe my employer would assign me an apprentice."

"So why do you need us then?" Nathan asked.

"A job shared is a job halved?" the technician said, "besides, some cable will need to go up through some higher spaces, and I'm not as young as I used to be." he summarised.

"How did you get the cable down if you can't get get it back in?" Nathan asked.

"It's easier to tear something down than it is to put it back in." the technician, no longer defensive but rather patient.

"You didn't think your protest through too much, did you?" Nicole said grimly.

"I wanted an apprentice to help me with the repair work. Someone younger, probably." the technician shot back, "but with the lack of an apprentice right here and now, you guys will have to do."

"I can't do cable work. I don't know what I'm doing." Nicole said.

"It's okay. I'll show you what to do." the technician replied.

"And I'm sure we can lend our muscles." Nathan said, coming around to the technician's solution.

Nicole scowled at Nathan who only replied to her with a stone mask.

"Better to be part of the solution." Nathan said, a sharpness evident in his words.

"You guys can do it." Nicole said, shaking her head, "I can't."

She had no idea about technology, other than how to use it. The task of replugging wires seemed so banal to her, and was work reserved for other people. Not her.

"Can't or won't?" Nathan asked, furthering his steely responses to Nicole.

She scowled at Nathan, but again he didn't seem to care. He wasn't listening to her anymore.

"It's okay. She probably doesn't typically do menial work like this." the technician said to Nathan. He was clearly trying to temper the journalist, but Nathan was having nothing of it.

"No." Nathan said, "She's always wanting to take charge of situations, and she always wants to be seen to be doing something to fix things." He directed his words straight toward Nicole, "And a lot of the time, it's just for show. Some of the stuff her Government creates, like 'initiatives' or 'assistance', I can't help but think that a lot of the time it's just something she can point to in order to say she's done something." Nathan finished.

"Let's go." the technician attempted again, turning to walk away and begin work.

"No!" Nathan shouted, "She wants to be part of the solution, then we _make_ her the part of the solution, I say! She's not above work like this!"

Nicole was stunned at Nathan's outburst. She had always figured him to be the buffoon, challenging her on only minor matters, or as part of his job. In fact, that was a sore point of hers; his job wasn't exactly dissimilar to hers.

"You wouldn't have a job if it weren't for the likes of me!" she muttered at Nathan, "You leech off us, criticise us, and then you go and tell people how they should think about issues." She gritted her teeth hard, "It's a horrid circle of us making sure we don't say something that you could interpret the wrong way, and you then tell voters how they should feel about things. It's just a fucking game to you lot!" Nicole yelled, "We spend more time trying to say things that you can't spin, but you always make the wrong conclusions and report as though there's something insidious afoot. Then the people call our office to complain about the story you wrote. That's how they think the system works.

"But that's how it does work now." Nicole said, half angry and half with resignation, "Politicians react to your reports because the people do. But you always fuck up the reports. Politicians react to your fuck ups and potential fuck ups." Nicole began to growl her words.

An audible moan came from outside, "Hug?"

Nathan said nothing and stood. He looked down upon Nicole with an expression of disdain. She had never seen him wearing such a face before, and the sheer ire on his face chilled her. He stared at her with an intensity that suggested he was at the end of his patience. He was done.

Without any further word, he walked to the door of the foyer, pressed the release button and hauled the door open. He strode out of the foyer of the data centre and walked toward the fence, where the Content were awaiting him with outstretched arms. Nicole and the technician managed to catch the door before it closed and followed him out. Nicole wanted to stop Nathan to apologise or do anything to make him feel better, but after seeing he was focussed on the fence, she stayed a distance from him, too worried about getting too close to the paws of the Content.

As Nathan reached the fence line, he turned to face Nicole, his expression flat, yet defiant. He held his arms out beside him at shoulder height.

Nicole was confused, but that confusion escalated to panic as she saw Nathan rock on his feet and fall back intentionally, like in a typical trust exercise. He closed his eyes and leaned over, the arms of the Content catching him, pulling him closer to the fence.

Nathan did not scream as the arms and hands pulled at him, embracing him. An arm crossed over his chest and a few more circled his waist. He was pulled into the fence in the warm embrace, but Nathan's face did not protest. The arms pulled and tugged at him, welcoming him into their zone.

"We need to lock up the data centre." the technician said to Nicole, "We can't let him inside. He's gone now."

Nicole nodded, feeling her eyes well up. She detested Nathan sometimes, but she didn't want to be without him. She watched him as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Slowly, a smile formed. The embracing arms continued to paw at him, pulling him into the fence as though trying to yank him completely through. His eyes slowly opened.

He wore the face of the Content.

The technician pulled at Nicole, guiding her back to the broken window so that they could re-enter the building.

Once inside the technician quickly began to push some furniture in front of the opening to hinder Nathan's potential intrusion. The yard was no longer safe with a Content Nathan inside the compound, and that furniture wasn't going to keep anyone out for long.

"So, what now?" Nicole asked the technician.

The technician surveyed the room for a moment, thinking silently. He paced the room a few times, looking up at Nicole periodically. He looked to the ceiling for a moment, and his eyes seemed to reflect a moment of realisation. He lowered his gaze and turned his eyes to look at Nicole. His irises wore a look of sadness.

"What?" Nicole asked.

The technician offered her a soft smile, "You have no one left to fight with." he said.

Nicole shook her head, realising his prediction. Without anyone to fight with, she would be caught in the spell with everyone else. She'll become Content.

"No. I can't" she said, "I can't be one of them. I can't. It's not me." Nicole's throat constricted in panic and her mind swam, looking for any explanation that would convince her that she wasn't doomed, "Conflict isn't the cause! It can't be!"

The technician shook his head, "Maybe it's not that bad?" he offered.

"How is it 'not that bad?' I'm effectively dying!" she cried, "You're telling me I'm going to become a zombie!"

The technician shook his head again, "You see the pollen on their faces?" he spoke calmly, pointing to outside.

"What of it?" Nicole asked.

"It's a symptom. Not a cause." he said, repeating what he had outlined earlier.

"Yes, you said before!" Nicole exclaimed, "What's your point?"

"Maybe this is precisely what you need." the technician explained.

Nicole disagreed but she could feel her head start to swim, and she was becoming disoriented.

"The pollen, it's from them stopping to look around them. They're starting to see what little things they may have missed during their busy lives." the technician said, "The pollen on their faces is from them literally stopping to smell the roses."

"Those weren't roses out there!" Nicole yelled, her vision starting to distort, "I need to fix this. You need to fix this! You did this!" she yelled desperately.

The technician said nothing back to her. He wasn't engaging her in her argument. Nicole felt her shoulders tingle as her neck relaxed. Her mind started to fog and an oddness started to overwhelm her. Almost like a drunkenness, but without a sense of disregard or a loss of inhibitions. She dropped to her knees as she fought with the sensations, trying to refocus her vision and keep the world - as she interpreted it - in order. She went to all fours and started gasping as the horrid sense of contentment surrounded her, robbing her of drive. She could barely see the technician's feet as he crossed to the other side of the room and opened a door.

Her stomach began to churn, as though it was unravelling, and her shoulders fell as her muscles loosened. Gradually, a light began to permeate the fog of her vision.

She started to realise that maybe it all wasn't worth it. Everything started to seem so easy.

It made sense to her. Everything she approached she tackled as a puzzle, in the vague hope that it would work out for her. It was a rush for her to feel like she was solving things and leading. Each puzzle a fight to win. She calmed herself and looked up to the technician, who was standing at the threshold to the room, before a hallway that disappeared from view. She began to pull herself to her feet, wobbling slightly as she regained her footing with what felt like relaxed thighs and calves.

To her eyes, the technician looked homely. His eyes seemed caring, and not wearing the look of someone who wanted something from her.

He was nice, she thought.

He was only misunderstood.

He only wanted some appreciation for the work he did.

He just wanted recognition.

She could do that, Nicole felt.

She could give him that.

She held her arms out toward the technician, desiring to feel him in close, to make him know that the world wasn't really a terrible place.

She wanted to comfort him.

She gestured for him to come closer.

"Hug?"
Epilogue

The technician closed the door behind him, plunging into the darkness of the hallway. The transformation of the final two hadn't been as terrifying as he had anticipated. It was hard for him to not help, but after watching Nicole and Nathan bicker at each other, constantly at each others' throats, he knew what the best thing was for him to do: Nothing.

Cold turkey, the technician thought, was the best way for them to deal with what was happening. No more conflict.

If his hypothesis was correct, and if indeed this whole situation was society simply "coming down" from their Combat High of using the internet in such a stupid way, then it would only be a matter of time before they all started to recalibrate their systems and return to some normalcy.

The recovery would only accelerate once someone had figured out how to fix the power. Someone else. Someone else would be the hero of this day and save the city, and his daughter. His protest would also likely go unseen, making his whole exercise ultimately pointless.

But he didn't mind now.

If anything, the sight of the Content wandering around the vacant lot nearby gave the technician a sense of hope. Hope that when people are denied conflict, they revert to calm order.

All he could do now was wait. Wait in the darkness until the lights came on.

He remembered a quote from Charles MacKay. He couldn't remember the exact phrasing, but it effectively was, "people go crazy in herds, and only come to their senses slowly, and one-by-one."

In the cold hallway, he sat down and wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm.

The technician smiled to himself, realising that what he'd witness was probably the opposite to what that MacKay quote was suggesting; Instead of a slow process of coming around, people would likely come to their senses en masse as their technology and phones reacquired addresses as the network came back online, allowing the conflict to spring back.  
The Content needed to become discontent for normalcy to return.

A Spring of Discontent.
About the Author

AP Hunt is an Australian author, ghostwriter and freelance contributor and editor, having submitted various works to food, travel, automotive and martial arts publications. Having spent a large portion of time reading and learning, they turned their attention to story-telling, with particular interest in the minutiae of the world and introducing odd elements to them.

Other books by this author

Please visit your favorite ebook retailer to discover other books by AP Hunt:

Mount Forword

The Lottery Caller

The Secret Monolith

The Chimera's Omen
Connect with AP Hunt

I really appreciate you taking the time to read my novel! Considering the subject matter of the story, it's probably a little ironic that I provide my contact details for social media below. I do go on there, albeit I confess that I do it a lot less frequently these days. But I welcome discussion, if you feel you wish to connect.

Connect with AP Hunt:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/APHuntAuthor/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AndyRobbQ

