

_"It is a story worth telling - and in our current inundated book market, that's very hard to find."_ \- Matthew Keith, author of Sway.

Desolation

Boulevard

Mark Gordon

Copyright 2012 Mark Gordon

Smashwords Edition

This book is dedicated to my beautiful wife and children.

"Each night we surrender ourselves to sleep,  
not knowing what morning may bring."

Sal the Judicious - "The Feeder Chronicles"
**Chapter 1**

**The Silence**

The sound of barking hammered away until Matt's eyes flickered open lethargically. On a Saturday morning? Really? That wasn't fair. He sat up and tried to convince himself that he was awake as Elvis continued to shatter the early morning silence with a non-stop loop of short, aggressive woofs. Matt wondered what could be upsetting the neighbour's dog so early, then put it out of his mind, figuring it it was no concern of his. He begrudgingly climbed out of bed.

He dressed himself in jeans and a T-shirt from the floor, before heading to the bathroom to pee and wash his face. He stared at himself in the mirror as the morning sun leaked in, and noticed that pimple had sprouted on his chin. Otherwise, he looked okay. He wasn't a supermodel, but he knew that a few of the girls at school thought he was cute, and that was enough for him. He headed out to the kitchen thinking that bacon and eggs would be a nice start to the day. There was no sign of his parents being out of bed yet, which meant that they had come home from their party much later than expected and would be hoping to sleep late. Elvis's barking obviously wasn't bothering them.

Matt flicked on the kitchen light, but there was no response. He toggled the switch up and down a few times, before giving up. Then he noticed the clock on the old stove. It had stopped at 3:11 in the morning, which meant that the power was out. He went to the front porch and checked the fuse box, but no fuses had blown, so he put on his shoes and headed out to the shed where the backup generator was kept. He topped up the fuel tank, and then hit the starter button, waiting a few seconds to make sure that it was running smoothly, before heading back into the house. The kitchen light was on now, he noticed, and the red second hand on the stove clock was whirring around the dial steadily. It was odd that the power should be off for such a long time, especially since they hadn't been victims of a bad thunderstorm overnight. Maybe he could find some information about the blackout on the local news. He turned on the radio in the kitchen, and dialled through the bands, but realised he was wasting his time - there wasn't a single station on the air. That was odd. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. No service? That wasn't quite so unusual, though, out here in the country where coverage could be patchy. He went over to the phone that sat on the bench beside his dad's pile of loose change and lifted the handset from the cradle. He paused, and then held it to his ear. Nothing. Not even a dial tone.

Matt considered waking his parents, but he knew they wouldn't be happy about being disturbed, especially if dad was nursing one of his hangovers. He went back to his bedroom, reached under his bed, and dragged out his MacBook. As it powered up, he walked out onto the front veranda. Elvis had stopped barking now, and the only sounds he could hear were those of birds and the mechanical whirr of the windmill behind the house, as the morning breeze gave it life. Where were the cars? There should be one or two heading into town, surely? He looked at the computer screen as it finished booting up. If this didn't work he thought he might have to wake his parents to tell them about the power problem. Dad would probably want to know, hangover or not. He clicked the Firefox icon and waited. "The Internet address is not available. Try again later". He clicked on a couple of his bookmarked websites just to be sure, but they wouldn't load, so he gave up. No Internet either? Given that the phones were down, that made sense. He headed to his parents bedroom.

He knocked on the door and waited for a response. Silence. He rapped on the door once more, harder this time. Still nothing. He turned the handle and pushed the door open slightly, "Dad? Mum?"

Even before Matt stepped into their bedroom, he sensed that his parents weren't there. It was too silent. The immaculately made-up bed confirmed his suspicion. They hadn't come home last night. He sat down on the bed and tried to think. What was going on here? The power and phones had gone out. Yes, that was unusual, but not outside the realms of possibility. What about the radio stations? Perhaps their ability to transmit had been affected by the power cut? Okay, that made sense. What about his parents then? Where were they? Then he remembered! Mum had said that if they were going to be too late, they would sleep over at the party. Matt checked his phone for messages, but there was nothing after 11:28 - a text message from dad, grinning at the camera, with a bottle of beer in one hand. Okay then. That was the answer. Dad had too much to drink last night, and they decided to stay in town. He relaxed a little.

After frying up and eating his bacon and eggs, Matt decided to keep himself busy until his parents returned home. On a farm, even a relatively small one like 'Two Hills', there was always work to be done. He got started, knowing that if he worked hard, the time would pass more quickly. He let the chickens out of their coop to forage around the house for worms, collected the eggs then filled their food and water troughs. Then he took the ride-on mower out of the small shed and cut the grass around the house, which was beginning to get a little overgrown. While the farm itself was a couple of hundred unkempt hectares mainly used for cattle grazing, mum liked to have a nicely cultivated garden around the house, and part of that meant that the grass needed to be cut regularly. This time of year, midway through autumn, the weather was getting cooler and after cutting the grass today, Matt knew that he wouldn't need to do it again for a couple of weeks. After he had put the mower back in the shed, Matt surveyed his work. Mum would be pleased. The freshly mown grass gave the little weatherboard cottage a cosy look. The white paint, wraparound veranda and patches of colour from potted flowers were picturesque, and in the background were the two blue-tinged hills that gave the farm its name. His father and mother loved this house, and while he would never say it out loud to them, he did too.

Matt looked at his watch and was surprised to see that it was almost 11:30. He really expected them to be home by now, and he was genuinely beginning to worry. He had one more task that he wanted to finish before his parents arrived, however, and he decided that if they weren't home by the time that chore was finished, he would go into town to look for them. He took the all-terrain quad-bike from the big shed so that he could ride up to the top paddock and open a gate so that the cattle would have access to fresh feed in an adjacent field. It was his favourite spot on the whole farm.

When he arrived at the top of the hill, the small herd of Angus cattle was waiting for him to open the gate. They knew that the sound of the bike coming up the hill meant fresh grass. He unlatched the hook on the old, steel gate and let them into their fresh paddock, and when they had made their way through he closed it and looked around. From this position he could look down and see the farmhouse and most of their land. It looked like a child's model. He could see the dirt road that led from his house as far as the road to town, but that was where the view stopped. He knew, though, that if he rode five minutes further up the hill he would have an almost three hundred and sixty degree view of Millfield and its surrounds. He climbed onto the bike.

At the very top of the hill, the view was even more magnificent. He could see as far away as the town, and then some. It was a beautiful afternoon and the sky was a pure, flat blue with just a few small, white clouds drifting by on a light breeze. Mountain Pass Road ran like a grey ribbon past the farm towards town, and then on to the Great Dividing Range, which was nothing more than a smudged line on the horizon. It was this mountain range that separated the country towns in the west of the state from the suburbs and city sprawl of the east coast. It had proven a formidable barrier for the early explorers and even today was a symbolic border between city and country. Matt loved the way the town looked from here. He could see the layout of the streets and even the cars parked in the road like little tin toys. Today the only movement, though, was an almost straight plume of smoke rising from somewhere near the centre of Millfield. Something was off-kilter. On a Saturday morning, the sunlight should have been glinting off cars as they trundled around town on their errands, but there was no movement. Another peculiar thing was that fire, which continued to send up a dark column of smoke into the sky. It wasn't cold enough for anyone to have lit a fire for warmth today, and council had banned the lighting of open fires years ago. So why would one be burning in the centre of town? A fire that seemed to be generating more smoke every second. For the first time today Matt felt that something might really be wrong. He needed to find out for sure.

He jumped on his bike and headed back down the hill to the house, where he grabbed the keys to his dad's truck. At sixteen he wasn't a fully licensed driver yet, but on farms most kids drove from an early age because there were plenty of open spaces to learn safely. He climbed into the cab of the Ford, pulled the door closed and put the key in the ignition. Much later, when Matt looked back on things, he would realise that this was that moment his new life began.

He pulled onto the gravel road and headed towards town.
**Chapter 2**

**The City**

Sally rolled over and checked her phone. Damned battery! She really needed to replace it. She threw it onto the bed and headed to the kitchen. She passed her mother's bedroom, and noticed the door was closed, which probably meant that a male 'friend' had slept over. Her mother, Bridget, was a good person, but didn't really embrace parenthood like some. She had a good job in the city, but lived for partying in the bars of their local neighbourhood. Sally didn't felt neglected, but neither did she feel a strong parental bond. Bridget had always provided for her daughter financially and encouraged her to be respectful and honest, but always allowed her lots of freedom. Sally knew it was convenient for her mother, because then she had her own freedom too.

Some teenagers in Sally's situation would have self-destructed by now and ended up as social misfits. Sally hadn't. She was popular at school and had a quirky sense of humour and a good nature. Boys found her attractive and she'd gone out with a few of them, but no serious relationships had developed. So while her mother was out partying, Sally used her time to read, draw or listen to music. Her mother often said that her bedroom resembled a second-hand bookshop and that was fine with Sally. She had read somewhere that every piece of information you learn is useful because it connects to something else that you already know, and helps your understanding of the world, no matter how trivial the information may appear to be at first. She liked that idea. She imagined her brain as a separate entity that constantly made connections between all of the things that she'd read.

So they lived together pretty comfortably in a two-bedroom apartment on the third floor of an old building in Newtown, just a few kilometres from the centre of the city. The area had gone through a period of gentrification over the last twenty years, but Sally's mum had bought into the area early, before prices had gone through the roof, using a modest inheritance as a deposit. What Sally loved about Newtown was the eclectic mix of people who called it home. Recently it had become popular with students, artists, and musicians, but there were still quite a few working class people living in the area from its pre-trendy days. Newtown was a vibrant, culturally diverse community. And today it was almost silent.

Sally was just about to get herself some muesli when the realisation hit her like a slap in the face. It was _too_ quiet. On a Saturday morning the main street should have been choked with traffic and people looking for a place to have their morning coffee and read the papers. Sally walked to the front of the apartment, and went out onto their small balcony to check the street. She stared in disbelief at the emptiness. No traffic flowed past, and there wasn't a single person in sight. She waited a minute, thinking that she might just have fluked a miraculous quiet moment, but the absolute stillness convinced her that something was very wrong. Even if there were no people or traffic in her street, she should still be able to hear the ambient hum of the city around her. There was nothing. Wait! Almost nothing. She could hear dogs barking. All over. Even though Sally felt independent and mature most of the time, right now she knew she needed her mother more than anything. She ran straight to Bridget's bedroom, desperate to wake her, not caring if it was an invasion of privacy. She shoved the door open and burst into the room. It was empty. Her mother had not come home last night!

Shit! What to do? The news! Kate went to the TV. Surely if there was a major problem in the city the news channel would have coverage. She flicked on the television to find nothing but hissing static. She changed channels. They were all the same. Sally felt more alone than she thought was possible. She wanted to know what was going on, she wanted her mother, and she wanted somebody to talk to. She got dressed and grabbed her bag from the bedroom floor. She went to the front door of the apartment, opened it and stepped into the stairwell.

She stepped out of the building's lobby and into the fresh air. Wait a minute, she thought. Fresh air? She was just a few kilometres from one of the world's largest cities yet the air quality was spectacularly good. And it wasn't just because there were no cars crawling down her normally busy street. Somehow she knew intuitively that there were no cars moving anywhere in the city today. The combination of silence (apart from those dogs) and stillness scared Sally to her bones. Suddenly she was overcome by a feeling of light-headedness and realised if she didn't sit down she might faint. She took a couple of steps and slumped onto a nearby bench and let her head drop to her knees. For a minute or more she didn't move. Then, gradually, she felt her senses return and she plucked up the courage to take stock of her desperate situation. She lifted her head and surveyed the street.

Where there would normally be throngs of shoppers, or people heading to cafés for breakfast, there was no one. She tried to think. She needed an explanation, so she began to formulate an idea that might help her maintain some level of sanity until this situation resolved itself (which, she rationalised, it surely would). Perhaps during the night some major catastrophe had befallen the city and she had slept through it. And maybe because her phone battery was flat and her mother wasn't home she had no way of finding out about it. On the surface this explanation worked. For about one second. Then Sally's intellect and common sense kicked in and she found all of the flaws in that hypothesis. Firstly, if there was a major disaster and everybody had been evacuated or told to stay indoors there would surely be some kind of news report or emergency broadcast to tell people what they needed to do. Secondly, it was beyond belief that Sally could possibly sleep through some kind of government action that would remove everybody from the streets in one night. Thirdly, how on earth would it even be possible to evacuate an entire city? Sally couldn't think straight. She needed to find somebody who knew what was happening. She started to walk.
Chapter 3

An Empty House

The road to town only ever received light traffic, but today it was absolutely deserted, so Matt pushed the ute right up to the speed limit. As he approached a bend that went past the Thompson's farm, he slowed down and pulled onto the gravel shoulder. He peered down their gravel driveway and saw both of their cars parked in front of the house, which meant that somebody was home. Matt wondered if they'd had the same problems with their electricity. It wouldn't hurt to check first before driving all the way into town. He pulled the car into their driveway.

He rolled to a stop and looked around. Nothing moved and the only sound he heard was a bird chirping nearby. He called out. "Hello! Anybody home?" but was met only with silence. He walked up onto the porch and knocked on the front door. There was no response so he knocked again. "Hello?" he yelled, more loudly this time. Nobody answered. Matt went around to the back of the house.

A large swimming pool dominated the yard, and a pair of French doors, which led into the kitchen, were open. On a table beside the pool sat a half finished bottle of beer and a green cocktail of some sort, also half finished. Matt figured they had been left behind last night after the couple had gone to bed. It seemed a little out of character for Mrs Thompson not to have cleaned up by now, judging by the tidiness in the rest of the house. He went to the French doors and tried again. "Hello? Is anyone home?" But there was no answer. He stepped into the kitchen.

Matt thought it was possible they just gone into town, or were visiting friends, but he didn't really think it likely, given that their cars were in the driveway and the back doors had been left open. He didn't like this situation at all. He took the cell phone out of his pocket and checked for service again. He wanted to speak to someone before he explored the house any further. The readout on his phone was blunt and foreboding - 'No Service'.

He checked the downstairs rooms, and found them empty, before walking to the base of the stairs that led to the upper floor. For his own peace of mind, Matt needed to check the whole house before driving into town to find his parents. Halfway up the stairs he paused and listened. Was that movement in a room above? He stood still, head cocked to one side. Somewhere a clock ticked, and the bird chirped outside, but that was all. Until he heard another soft thump, like a footstep on carpet. He listened. Silence again.

"Hello? Is anyone up there? It's Matt Winton from next door."

There was no response. He moved up the stairs quietly and carefully. The first bedroom was clearly being utilised as a spare room. It was furnished lightly, and had absolutely no personal touches like photographs or books. It was set up with a double bed for visitors, and more importantly, was empty. The next room was Jane's old room. She was the Thompsons' daughter, and had moved to Sydney six years ago to study law, where she still lived with her young family. Since then her room had been refurnished as a study, but there were still signs of Jane's youth in the bookcase, which was crammed with Goosebumps, Babysitter's Club and fantasy books. Mrs Thompson had probably kept them for the grandchildren.

At the end of the hallway were two more doors. One was closed. Matt was trying to control his racing heartbeat when he heard the thumping sound again. It sounded as if it was coming from behind the closed door. He needed a weapon of some kind, but could see nothing useful. He crept back to Jane's room and looked around, but found only fluffy toys and books. He walked to the closet and opened it - nothing but neat stacks of cardboard boxes. He didn't want to open the door at the end of the hall without some means of protection. Maybe there was something he could use under the bed. A baseball bat would be nice; he thought, as he bent down and lifted the bedspread, before peering underneath.
Chapter 4

The Police Station

Sally walked the deserted streets, and noticed the unusual way the cars had been parked. They were all over the place, but there hadn't been any accidents. It was as if the drivers had simply parked in any available spot and walked away. Again, this made her wonder if she had missed some large-scale event. Could drivers have been told to leave their cars behind and go to a safe place? Sally shuddered. She was at a loss, had no one to turn to, and no idea what to do next. She was alone and she was terrified. She sat in the gutter, and put her head in her hands and wept like a lost child.

After a few minutes her sobs subsided and she felt a little better - as if she had flushed something from her system. She felt capable of action now, and no matter what was going on she knew that she needed to keep calm and look after herself. She needed to find someone to help her. She had to be cautious, though. If the city had suffered some sort of major catastrophe, she would be vulnerable on her own. She needed to find someone in authority. The local police station was only two blocks from where she was standing. She started walking.

Passing by the empty shops and cafes was an experience that would haunt Sally as long as she lived. The cafes she had eaten in, the bookshops she had browsed, and the clothing stores where she bought items for her bohemian look, were either closed or empty. Then the was the bizarre silence. In Newtown the noise never really stopped. Now she wondered if it would ever start again. She paused. What about the silence, though? Could there be a clue there somewhere? She listened with a more analytical ear. What could she hear? Nothing. No. That wasn't true. There _were_ sounds. In movies they called it ambient noise. Sally learned about that while making a short film in art classes at high school years ago. Ambient noise was background noise that's always there but you don't notice. Now, though, that was all she _could_ hear. Sally strained and listened. A slight breeze blew through the streets. She heard that clearly. What else? Now and then a piece of litter blew past, scraping along the concrete footpath. What else? The dogs! Not as insistent as before but still an occasional bark in the background. What else? Nothing. Sally was frustrated. There must be something! There it was! Birdsong! Somewhere nearby a bird was chirping. So there were no people, but there were birds and dogs. Was that helpful to know? Sally had no idea, but she figured it couldn't hurt to notice these things. It was clear too, as she walked along, that the power was out almost everywhere. There was no way to know if it had gone off completely, or some parts of the grid had just shut down automatically because nobody was operating the power stations, but it was clear that if things didn't change, this would soon be a city without electricity.

Sally arrived at the police station, and knew immediately that the trip had been a waste of time. The doors, which were usually open twenty-four hours a day, were closed. She was surprised by how let down she felt. In the back of her mind she had been hoping that all would be revealed once she found the authorities, but they seemed to have vanished along with everybody else. Just to make sure though, she mounted the five or six steps to the front of the building and pushed on the doors. They swung open. She peered into the gloom.

After her eyes had adjusted she stepped inside the dark building. Daylight threw filtered light into the foyer and empty reception desk. She walked up to it and peered over. "Hello?" It seemed as if everyone had just walked out of the place. Half filled coffee cups, unfinished paperwork and even a mobile phone sat on the work area of the desk. 'Who leaves their phone lying around like that?' she thought. No one that she knew. Behind the desk a door led to more offices. She went through.

"Hello?"

No response.

Louder this time.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

The silence inside the building was even more profound than the nothingness outside. What should she do? Her fear was creeping up on her now, like a tiger stalking a deer. She was struggling to maintain her self-control. 'This is what people feel like just before they go mad', she thought to herself. If she had someone else with her she knew she would be coping much better, but on her own the loneliness and fear were so crushing that she almost turned and went home. She knew in her heart that this would be the easiest option - go home, lock the door, climb into bed and wait. But she couldn't. That was too submissive. She needed to exercise some semblance of control to stay sane, and by checking further inside the building, she figured she might get some of that control back.
Chapter 5

Bodies

Matt screamed and fell backwards as the animal jumped from beneath the bed. With his eyes closed tightly, he flailed his arms around to protect his face from a savage attack, as he hit the bedroom floor. The animal pounced on him as he tried to punch it away with his unprotected fists. He braced himself as he waited for the beast to sink its teeth into his bare throat. In his terrified state it took Matt a couple of seconds to realise that he was only in danger of receiving a severe smooching from a large frightened Labrador.

"Shit! Elvis boy! You nearly gave me a friggin' heart attack."

Matt cuddled the hysterical dog and scratched him behind the ears until he started to calm down. "Elvis, where is everyone boy? What's going on?"

The dog just wagged its tail as the pair looked at each other. Matt certainly felt a lot better about having a companion now, even if it was only the neighbour's dog, but he still had to solve the problem of where everybody had gone. He knew that he needed to check that last bedroom before he left the house, if only to satisfy himself that he wasn't scared. He stepped out into the hallway.

"C'mon Elvis, let's go," he coaxed.

But the dog remained behind him, staring towards the closed bedroom door. Matt grabbed Elvis by the collar and tried to pull him along gently, but even then dog wouldn't budge. 'Looks like I am doing this on my own,' he thought, as he walked towards the last door. He looked back at Elvis, who was now peeking sheepishly around the doorway, and took a deep breath. He had always thought of himself as a reasonably brave person, but this day was doing its best to ruin that illusion. He had almost wet his pants when Elvis tried to kill him with affection, and now he was having second thoughts about opening this damned door. Maybe he didn't need to. After all, this was not his house and he really had no right to be poking around in here when the owners weren't home. But while it was within his power to turn around, walk out of the house, and go home to wait for his parents, Matt knew that it was never going to happen. Something was wrong, and he had to prove to himself that he was no coward, despite being scared stupid by an overfriendly Labrador three minutes earlier. He had made his decision. He turned the knob, pushed the door open and took one step into the Thompson's bedroom. There was nobody in the room, and the only thing that seemed unusual to Matt was the unmade bed, because he'd heard his mum say that Mrs Thompson was tidiness freak. That bed should have been made by now. He went over to it and sat down to think.

He looked at himself in the mirrored wardrobe opposite the bed, and keep moving and head into town to try to find out what was going on. The Thompson's house had been a bust. Matt was about to stand up and leave the room, when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Elvis had crept quietly up to the bedroom door and was now prostrate on the floor, head down on the carpet staring at the bed. Matt walked to the dog, who was now emitting a high-pitched whining sound as it continued to stare at the bed.

"What is it boy? What's the matter? Is there a cat under there?"

Matt knew there was no cat under the bed, as much as that would have been his preferred choice. He crouched down, from the safety of the doorway, with one side of his face flat on the carpet. The bedspread reached almost to the floor, and in the small gap underneath he could see only darkness. Damn! He was going to have to look under another bed.

Matt edged into the room as Elvis's whining became more frantic. Many thoughts were going through his mind as he attempted to work up the courage to lift the bedspread and peer beneath it, all of them unpleasant, but he needed to get it over with, and get out of that house as quickly as he could. He inched toward the bed, grabbed a handful of the cover and yanked it off the bed as he leapt backwards toward the doorway, but nothing jumped out at him, despite his heart thumping like it was going to burst. At the door Elvis continued to whine, and Matt knew that he still needed to look under the bed. From his position alongside the dog in the doorway he crouched down on all fours and peered into the gloomy space once more.

For a second Matt thought his eyes were deceiving him. The vision before him made no sense.

Mr Thompson was lying on his back under the bed. Dead.

Without taking time to think, Matt moved to the motionless form and began to shake him and call his name. When there was no response, he grabbed the man by the arm and, with considerable effort, dragged him out into the open, while Elvis whined frantically in the background. Matt's head was spinning from shock. Then, as he bent over Mr Thompson's seemingly lifeless form to try to feel a heartbeat, he noticed, to his horror, another body under the bed. It was Mrs Thompson. He lay down on his stomach, grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her out, until she was lying alongside her husband.

Now Matt was not only totally confused, but also extremely panicky. He needed to act. Luckily, his farming background had given him an excellent understanding of first aid practices, and he decided to use them now. He ripped open Mr Thompson's shirt and put his ear to the big man's chest, and was relieved to find that there was a very faint, but slightly irregular heartbeat. Clearly he was alive. He checked Mrs Thompson and found that she was in a similar condition to that of her husband. Deciding that he needed some kind of medical assistance, he ran downstairs to the phone to call for help. Matt picked up the phone in the kitchen and put it to his ear. It was dead. He ran his hands through his hair as he tried to work out what to do. He realised that he had very few options. He knew there was nothing he could do for the Thompsons other than monitor them, but he also needed to go into town to try to find out where his parents were. Was it right to leave the couple alone upstairs while he went for help? As he thought this through, he knew that it was really his only option, given the crazy circumstances he found himself in. He would feel bad leaving them behind, but he knew he had no choice. He needed to find help. Matt ran to the car and noticed that Elvis was right behind him. As he opened the door and climbed into the cab of the ute, the dog jumped up and over his lap into the passenger seat. He closed the door, patted the dog on the head and headed into town.
Chapter 6

Millfield

Matt's head was a complete mess. He couldn't rationalise the experience of finding the Thompsons' comatose bodies under the bed. His mind ran through one scenario after another, but they made no sense. He considered, and then ruled out suicide, illness, assault, robbery, and even mental health issues, but none of those explanations held enough water for him to really believe in them. He had a nauseating feeling in his stomach that this was something radically new and, worst of all, somehow connected to his missing parents. If Matt had found Mr and Mrs Thompson lying on their lounge room floor, instead of under their bed, he may have assumed something like a failed suicide pact, but the fact that they were hidden (hiding themselves?) under the bed, made Matt's skin crawl.

He slowed down as he approached the outskirts of town, where he could see that his worst fears were being realised. There was not a single person on the streets and there was no traffic. He shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon. He parked in the centre of town and climbed out as his eyes scanned the street. Nobody. The shops and pubs, which would usually be busy at lunchtime on a Saturday, were deserted. In a small town like Millfield, the pub was the social hub of the town, and even in an emergency like a flood or a bushfire people still came to find out the latest news. The Criterion Hotel was an imposing, two-storey timber building with wide shady awnings over the footpath, and a veranda upstairs. When Matt was younger, he had spent quite a few afternoons in the beer garden out the back, while his parents drank with friends. Now the pub looked silent and menacing. He instructed Elvis to stay in the car as he headed into the front bar.

The similarities to the Thompsons' house were remarkable - there was absolutely no sign of human activity, other than the detritus of the previous evening's partying. Half-empty glasses and bottles littered the bar, which suggested to Matt that something bizarre had happened not long before the pub closed (3 am on a Saturday). What really terrified Matt now, though, was the likelihood that his parents might be laying somewhere in town, in the same vulnerable state as the Thompsons. He didn't want to wait to find out. He guessed that if the pub's customers from the previous night had developed some weird disorder that was forcing them to hide away before falling unconscious, the most obvious place would be down in the keg cellar. Thinking about what he might find down there, Matt decided to check the other areas of the pub first. As he wandered through the dank and musty interior of the hotel, he tried to remain upbeat, despite his fear. He reasoned that even if everyone in town has been struck down by whatever had caused the Thompsons to go into a state of unconsciousness, it was quite likely temporary, and in time everyone would recover. The alternatives were just too disturbing to consider.

He found no surprise on the ground floor. The bistro was empty (meals half eaten on tables), the lounge bar was empty, and the office, where he found a heavy-duty flashlight, was also empty. On the first floor there were six rooms available for accommodation. Every door was unlocked and the rooms empty. He considered the possibility that the tenants might be unconscious under the beds, like his neighbours, but after checking under a couple and finding them unoccupied, Matt decided to head back downstairs.

He descended the stairs into the beer cellar, the flashlight illuminated each step, and when he reached the bottom he swung the beam back and forth around the pitch-black space. The light bounced off stacks of aluminium beer kegs and shelves that were loaded with crates full of supplies for the bar and restaurant. For a moment he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but just to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he needed to check the recess at the back of the cellar, behind the kegs. As he moved slowly towards the space, his heart began to beat faster and his breathing became shallow. He paused and listened. Matt wasn't sure if he was imagining things or not but he felt that there was an almost imperceptible sound back there somewhere, something felt rather than heard. Or maybe it was his frightened mind inventing something that wasn't there. Matt knew that he just needed to take a couple of steps forward, and peer behind the kegs to find out, but he struggled to find the strength to move forward. He stood in the silence and listened to the creaking of the old building as the afternoon air began to cool. Something about the thought of the shadows lengthening outside and the onset of night made Matt's mind up for him, and he felt himself moving toward the darkest recess of the cellar, his legs working almost independently from his brain. He shone his flashlight into the gloom, and there, on the concrete floor, huddled together like corpses in a morgue, laid the bodies of the pub's customers. Matt stared, unable to move. He tried to count them, but had to start over a couple of times because his brain didn't want to work rationally. There were at least fourteen bodies, but he wasn't sure because they were packed in so tightly, and some of the smaller ones (children, he realised with horror) were actually on top of the others. As Matt played the beam of light across faces he recognised most of them - John Smith, the butcher; Mrs Emerson who worked at the supermarket; a young couple whose names he didn't know, but recognised from around town; Manfred, the publican; Billy the bartender; and others.

Matt's mind reeled, and his legs felt too weak to stand on. This was far worse than finding the Thompsons' under their double bed, because this gruesome discovery made him realise that he was probably all alone in Millfield. But why? What could have caused this to happen? Why had everyone congregated in dark places? Would they ever wake up? Then, in contrast to the macabre serenity of the scene before him, Matt noticed an almost imperceptible movement from the corner of his eye. He jerked the flashlight towards it, and illuminated a large, brown cockroach, crawling slowly over the neck of Billy the cook. Matt was initially mesmerised, as he watched the insect gently exploring the man's motionless form, before crawling onto his face. Matt couldn't move. There was something primal and disturbing about the vision that kept him entranced, until Billy's hand moved rapidly to brush the cockroach away. Matt jumped. "Billy!" he blurted. But the chef's arm had already gone back to its original position, and he was motionless once more.

Suddenly it became too much for Matt and he could feel the bile rising from his stomach. He turned and ran from the horrors before him, up the stairs and into the afternoon sunshine, before vomiting into the gutter. He knew he was suffering from shock, which would probably get worse later, but for the time being he needed to keep himself together. It was impossible. He felt the world around him fade to black, and he thought that it would probably be best if he sat down for a minute. But it was too late. His brain had already made the decision, and he slumped onto the ground unconscious.
Chapter 7

The Crazy One

The offices of the Police Station were empty and abandoned, as Sally had guessed they would be.

"Hello? Is anybody here? I need help," she pleaded, knowing there would be no answer.

She had no idea what to do. It seemed as if everyone on the planet had evacuated and left her behind. She walked back where the streets were still abandoned and listened carefully, but apart from the occasional bark of a dog, she heard nothing.

She walked, and marvelled at the change that had come so suddenly over her city. 'This is science fiction,' she thought. How could a city of over three million people just disappear into thin air? It was impossible surely? And then she heard it - the sound of glass breaking! She froze. If there were anyone around to see her standing there in the street, they would have mistaken her for a statue. She waited. There it was again - the sound of breaking glass. No mistake this time. She felt immense relief; she wasn't the only person left; there was at least one other. Because the city was so quiet Sally had no idea how far the sound had travelled. It might have been kilometres away or just around the corner, and although she was desperate to make contact with another person, she was wary. Society's rules, for the time being anyway, were suspended, and the wrong person in this situation might be capable of anything. She decided that discretion might be wise right now and she moved into the nearest building, all-night café, that would give her a view of the street. She pushed through the door and found a spot in the shadows behind the counter where she knew she couldn't be seen from outside.

While she hid, Sally considered her situation. With no information available, there was literally nothing she could do but stay safe and wait for some kind of resolution to this nightmare. She had somewhere to live, she had plenty of food and water, and she was healthy and intelligent. As far as positives went, though, that was it. Negatives on the other hand were abundant. No mother, no people, no information, no friends, no services and no clue as to what to do next! As she listened for the approach of whoever was randomly breaking those windows, Sally realised that from now on she would be making up the rules as she went along.

After almost ten minutes of silent waiting Sally was about to give up and head outdoors again. Then she heard the noise. It was a human voice. She couldn't tell if it was a lone voice or a group because all she could hear were fragments of talking, and then silence. This pattern repeated for a minute or two while she hid in the shadows of the café, until eventually the source of the noise came into view. Sally had a clear view of the person as they paused on the footpath outside. It was a male, in his early twenties she guessed. He was dressed like a lot of men that age - skinny jeans, t-shirt, black hoodie and sneakers. She watched him cautiously. The man turned slowly and stared across to the other side of the street. She couldn't tell what he was looking at but she heard him speak.

"Wakey, wakey sleepyheads!"

That didn't make sense. The man turned and faced the café. Sally froze. He seemed to be looking straight at her. The man tilted his head slightly to one side. She was panicking now and desperately wanted to run, but she knew that any movement would give her position away. His head tilted back the other way. 'Shit!" she thought. 'He can see me!' The man held his position and stared at the cafe's plate glass window. Then he smiled. Sally shivered. It was the smile of someone who had moved to another place; a place that normal people never wanted to go to; a place where things were horrific. Sally was about to leap to her feet and flee to the rear of the café when she realised that this man hadn't even seen her. He was simply watching himself in the window's reflection. She wondered what he saw.

"Come on sleepyheads," he said to nobody. "Come out and play. Please! I'm boooored!"

This last word clawed its way out of his mouth as a tortured plea. Sally wasn't sure, but she thought she could see a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Pleeeeeaaaase!" he screamed, suddenly aggressive.

Sally shuddered. This was a person to avoid. She wondered if his mental state was an existing condition, or if he had cracked under the strain of waking up in a city where everyone had vanished. Sally was scared. She didn't want to become like him, but she knew that it was a real possibility. She was trembling and she wanted him to go away. Then, without warning, the man's head turned sharply to the left, as if he had heard something. He walked out of Sally's view. She waited a minute or so and then crept quietly to the front door of the café and peered around the edge of the doorway. She watched the lonely figure of the man walk away for almost a minute. That was enough for her. She headed home.
Chapter 8

Signs of Life

Matt regained consciousness to find his face being chewed. He screamed. It took a few seconds for him to realise that Elvis was licking the side of his face where it had been grazed by the fall.

"Bloody hell, boy! That's twice today you've given me a heart attack."

He looked up at the sky and saw that the sun had moved towards the west, but the streets were just as quiet as they had been before he passed out. 'Not a nightmare then,' he thought to himself, cynically. Now he had decision to make. Either get back in the car and drive to the next town, or go home and wait for the authorities to resolve this crazy situation. If he drove to Carswell, he would arrive at around sunset, and that was not an appealing idea, especially if he found the place in the same state as Millfield. And there were his parents to consider. If he stayed home, and this catastrophe fixed itself, he would be closer to them when they recovered. He decided to head home.

The sun was pushing towards the western hills when Matt pulled the ute into his driveway. Constant checking of his mobile phone had not yielded a signal, and when he went inside, he found that he was still without mains power. He went out to the shed and checked the generator, and made sure the chickens were locked up for the night, before heading back into the house. Elvis stayed by his side the whole time. He wasn't sure if the dog was providing protection or in need of it. Maybe both. By now the sun was below the hills and it was getting dark inside the house. Usually at this time of the evening Matt's mum would be getting something ready for dinner while dad sat at the kitchen table with a beer and the newspaper. Tonight though, Matt knew his parents were lying somewhere unconscious and at the mercy of the night, like everyone else in town. He hoped that they would be safe until he could search for them at first light.

Despite not feeling hungry Matt forced himself to make a sandwich and have something to drink. He took them out onto the front porch and ate while Elvis finished off last night's leftovers. He looked across the fields towards town as the night grew darker. Somewhere in the distance a dog howled. Matt was about to get up and go inside when he heard another noise. His joy was indescribable! A low whining hum coming from sky. The unmistakable drone of a jet airliner! Matt scanned until he found the source - a blinking light traversing from west to east, heading towards the city! He screamed in delight and hugged Elvis. There would be people on that plane, and a pilot was flying it. The whole world hadn't been affected by the disaster! In that short moment Matt had hope that his parents would be okay. Surely by tomorrow authorities would have things under control and some information would be forthcoming. He went inside feeling happier than he had since he had found the Thompsons' hiding under their bed earlier that morning.
Chapter 9

Preparations

Once Sally was back in her flat, she got organised. She found as many candles as she could, and stacked them together with a box of matches on the kitchen bench. She really didn't want to be without lights when the sun went down. The next thing was food. She took all of the perishables from the refrigerator and stacked them tightly into the freezer. She didn't know how long the electricity would be out, but figured she could keep the food fresh for a couple of days, even with the power off. Then she went to the stove and tried the gas burner. She turned the knob and was relieved to see a perfect ring of blue flame spark on the stovetop. At least she could cook! Her stomach rumbled at the thought and she suddenly realised that it was mid afternoon, and she hadn't eaten a thing all day. She rummaged around in the fridge until she found some leftover fried rice, made herself a cup of herbal tea, and went out onto the little balcony to eat.

As she ate her cold rice Sally considered her options. She had different choices depending on whether she was thinking short or long term. In the short term, she knew that she had to stay put to see what eventuated out of this crazy situation. Longer term, though, she had much more to think about. If this disaster didn't resolve itself in the next few days, she would need to explore the city and try to find someone that could help her. She stared down at the street where a cat crept around in the shadows of an alleyway opposite her apartment. At least there were still animals, she thought bleakly, as she stood up and headed back inside. Then she heard it - the low hum of a plane in the distance. My god! She leaned over the edge of her balcony and peered into the clear blue sky. There it was, just visible above the skyline, heading towards the city. As she watched, the tiny speck grew in size, as it headed towards the airport. Her suburb was on the flight path of scores of international flights every day, yet she was just realising that this was the first plane she had seen or heard since she woke up. Sally prayed that this was the first sign of a return to normality, but in the pit of her stomach she had a sick feeling that an alternative explanation was more likely. She watched and waited. The plane continued to grow in size as it sailed towards her. It was also decreasing in altitude, which gave Sally some hope that it was in a normal flight pattern, and would be landing routinely. She checked the sky. There was nothing else in the air.

The plane was close enough now for Sally to tell that it was a Jumbo jet. It seemed to be heading to the airport, but Sally realized with horror that something wasn't right. The plane was not slowing down or doing any banking that would be usual at this stage of it's landing. It was coming in straight and fast. It seemed as if it were coming straight at her. Each second that passed saw the jet grow in size as it thundered towards her. The giant jet screamed overhead, so close that she could read the words on the undercarriage. The noise was deafening. She noticed that the wheels had not engaged, as the backdraft from the giant engine blew her off her feet. A second later, as she cowered on the floor of her balcony, it felt like an atomic bomb had exploded as the plane crashed into the nearby city streets.
Chapter 10

To Town

The night passed uneventfully for Matt and Elvis, who slept curled up together in Matt's parents' double bed. The next morning, as dawn's light washed the dark from the room, Matt climbed out of bed and went outside. Elvis followed closely behind, as he went to the veranda and listened. Silence. Nothing had changed since the nightmare of the day before. There was still no traffic on the road; no tractors were ploughing the fields; and no planes were leaving white trails across the early morning sky. Matt wondered about his sighting of the jet from the previous evening. At the time, he assumed it was on a regular route, but after having time to think about it, he realised that the plane could have been on autopilot, and in the air for many hours. He tried to visual a scenario where everyone in the plane had been affected by the 'virus'. With nowhere for the passengers to hide, would they simply be sitting comatose in their seats? Or would they be piled up in the aisles, like the bodies he had found in the basement of the pub yesterday? Whatever the case, they would almost certainly end up falling from the sky once the plane's fuel tanks emptied. He went back inside.

Matt had known all along what his plan for today would be - to find his parents. Even though it made him feel sick, he realised that they would probably be in the same state as the others he had found yesterday. He had no idea what he would do if he found them, other than bring them back to the farm and keep them comfortable, but that would be better than doing nothing at all.

As the sun started to lift above the eastern horizon, he made himself a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, which he shared with Elvis. He wasn't particularly hungry, but he knew his body needed fuel for the difficult day ahead. It tasted like ash in his mouth as he forced it down. Matt had no idea what to expect in town today, and he fantasized that he might find that everybody was back to normal, but he knew that wasn't very likely.

For no reason other than it couldn't do any harm, he grabbed his father's shotgun and an extra box of shells from above the bedroom closet and took them to the car. He had no firm plan other than to look for his parents. Since they were in town last night at a party, he figured he would start his search at their friends' houses. It would have been so much easier if he had known which friends had hosted the party, but he hadn't thought to ask. If he couldn't locate them, he wasn't sure what he would do. For now though, he was confident that they would be 'hibernating' in one of a few regular haunts (not a good word, he thought to himself humourlessly) and would be able to bring them home. As Matt started the engine Elvis jumped up into the passenger seat of the truck. Matt took a deep breath, "Let's go boy".
Chapter 11

Leaving Home

Sally lay on the floor of the balcony. Her ears were ringing and her arms were over her head in the classic protective position. As the noise from the plane's initial impact began to fade away it was replaced by the sounds of small, breathy explosions. Sally knew very little about air disasters but she had a strong feeling that these blasts, while frightening, were just a precursor to what would be one final almighty eruption, as the plane's fuel tanks burst and turned the whole aircraft into a massive incendiary bomb. Without rising to her feet, Sally starting scrambling toward the relative safety of her apartment, as lumps of burning metal started to ping down around her. She reached the open doorway and rolled into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her with her foot.

"Ohmigod! Ohmigod!" she screamed as she lay on the floor with her hands over her ears. Then came the real explosion, and the noise seemed to suck all of the air out of the apartment, as the glass balcony doors blew in. She was peppered with tiny fragments of safety glass, as the heat poured in on a wave of oily smoke and embers. Thousands of pieces of rubble and metal were raining down onto the world outside her windows, as she felt herself going into shock, before passing out.

Sally had no idea how long she had blacked out for, but when she regained consciousness her head was throbbing, she was coughing uncontrollably and she thought that she was blind, because he smoke in the room had reduced visibility to almost zero. Now she cried with relief. At least she would be facing this nightmare with vision! She might go crazy, but at least she could watch herself do it. She stood up gingerly and headed to the balcony for fresh air, but as she stepped through the broken French doors she almost fell headlong to her death three stories below because her balcony no longer existed. Had she been in more of a hurry, she would have stepped into thin air and plummeted to the rubble-strewn street below. As it was, she was saved by a jagged section of concrete no more the thirty centimetres wide. She retreated one step back into the apartment and kicked what was left of the doors open to let the smoke escape. Then she stuck her head through the doorway so that she could breathe properly, and surveyed the damage outside, as the smoke cleared from inside the apartment. A westerly breeze was blowing most of the toxic plume from the burning airliner towards the coast, and she could see that the buildings across the street had taken the full force of the blast. Every window had been blown in, and one building was already in an advanced state of conflagration. Sally knew it would only be a matter of time before the fire spread to neighbouring buildings, and then to hers. No fire services would be coming to help; and she realised, with an overwhelming sense of grief and trepidation, that she would need to get out of her apartment and find somewhere safe for the night.

She grabbed a backpack, change of clothes, phone and charger, and her journal from her bedroom, put on a sturdy pair of trainers, and took one look around her apartment before heading outside. She headed away from the blaze, thinking that she should put as much distance between her and the fire as she was able. Once she did that, she could look for somewhere safe to stay for the night. If she wasn't in shock, Sally would have realised that she was living purely in the moment, like a wild animal. Her safe, normal life had been snatched from her, and all she could do was to try to stay alive, until some kind of order was restored. As she headed further away from her home, most of the streets were become much like her own. Closed shops and empty cars provided the backdrop to her nightmare. She saw no one.

After walking for half an hour she stopped in a shady shopping arcade to rest. She was thirsty. Inside a 24-hour convenience store she found a fully stocked refrigerator and helped herself to a couple of lukewarm energy drinks. At the counter she grabbed some chocolate bars and a box of crackers and went outside to eat. She didn't realise how hungry she was until she began to wolf down the chocolate. She ate one bar and finished one of the drinks in two long swallows. After eating, she felt a little better and decided to rest for a few more minutes before resuming her journey. She lay down on a nearby park bench and within seconds of closing her eyes, though, she slipped into a deep sleep. When she woke up, she realised that the light looked very different. She checked her watch and saw that she had slept for almost two hours. It was now three in the afternoon.

Back in towards her apartment the smoke looked more extensive. Because there was no fire service to control the fire it was raging out of control, spreading from the original crash site. She needed to keep moving. She had walked almost ten blocks before she realised that she could make much better time if she had a bicycle. A car was out of the question. She had never had the inclination to learn how to drive, and didn't have the first clue as to how cars worked. Also, the streets were clogged with abandoned vehicles, which would have made driving almost impossible anyway. She kept her eyes peeled for a bicycle store and after walking a few more blocks Sally realised she would need to find one quickly. The column of black smoke was blotting out the sun. The fire had changed direction and was moving fast. If she didn't pick up her pace it was going to catch her. She changed tactics. She got away from the main road and headed into the residential streets behind the businesses and stores. After checking the yards of around a dozen houses, Sally finally saw what she needed in a yard- a mountain bike leaning up against the wall of a house.

The ride was non-eventful for the most part. Occasionally she found herself making a short detour from her main route, as cars blocked her path, but she made good time, and eventually felt that the fire was going to be no threat. From the smoke in the distance Sally guessed that the inferno was burning itself out, or had changed direction on the breeze. If she could find a high enough vantage point, she would be able get a clear view and make sure that she was out of danger. It was now late in the afternoon and she needed to find somewhere to stay for the night. She was resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be going home any time soon, because she believed that the fire would have consumed her home. She wondered about her mother and if she would ever see her again, but when she felt as if she was about to cry, she forced her eyes shut hard and did her best to put it out of her mind, until she was safe, and could analyse the whole situation less emotionally.

With around thirty minutes of daylight left, Sally spotted a three-storey block of flats that was bounded by smaller homes. The roof of the apartment block looked flat and she could see a clothesline up there, so she knew that access was a possibility. She walked over to the building and found that her first potential barrier, the communal front door, was no problem - it was closed but not locked. She went inside. Security had obviously not been a big concern for the residents of this building, because she found the roof access door was also unlocked. She went quickly up the dark staircase and stepped out into a huge expanse of clear blue sky. From the edge of the roof she had an unobstructed view across the rooftops, back towards the city. In the distance, an oily, black column of smoke rose into the sky, but it had lost most of its ferocity. She had put enough distance between herself and the fire to relax from that threat. Now her immediate concern was to find somewhere to hole up for the night. She went downstairs, climbed on her bike and began her search.
Chapter 12

The Search

Matt spent the morning searching the homes of Millfield, hoping to find them lying unconscious under a bed like the Thompsons. He didn't find his parents, but he did find lots of other "hiders". He found them under beds, in wardrobes, in garages and even one in the trunk of a partially restored '66 Mustang. It seemed every person in Millfield was in a state of suspended animation, and in a bizarre kind of way, looked perfectly comfortable. Earlier in the day, in Mr and Mrs Cleary's house, Matt decided to poke one of the bodies to see what would happen. He found a golf club in the garage, and gently prodded Mr Cleary in his ample beer belly, but there was no reaction.

Around midday he stopped searching and forced himself to eat. Looking for his parents was not physically demanding, but he could tell that it was taking an emotional toll. He felt lethargic and was beginning to get a headache. After his lunch, he continued the grim quest in more unlikely places such as restaurants and shops, but he had no luck there either. Wherever his parents were hiding, they certainly did not want to be found. As the sun began to set, Matt started for home. He had not found one person who was conscious, yet logic compelled him to believe there must be others like him, who had not been affected by this event. Tomorrow he would take his search for survivors further afield. The nearest town was only thirty minutes away and almost twice as big as Millfield. Surely somebody there would be conscious?

Matt considered the hiders of Millfield and worried about the long-term affects of their suspended state. If they continued to hibernate indefinitely, they would die from dehydration. Would nature really play such a cruel and pointless trick? A virus might cause a reaction in its victims like the one he had seen, but surely after it had run its course it would die out along with the hosts. What would be the point of that? Even viruses existed to prolong their existence as long as possible. If the victims of this inexplicable event didn't regain consciousness soon, Matt knew that he would be dealing with a town full of corpses.

He pulled the car into his farm's driveway and killed the engine. He trudged into the house with his shotgun and Elvis. The sun had dropped behind the hills and the place was gloomy and depressing. He flicked on some lights and that made him feel a little better, but still he fretted for his missing parents. If he couldn't find them he thought they would probably die. He wasn't exactly sure what he would do once he found them, but perhaps they would have some chance of survival if he could provide basic medical care until they regained consciousness. As he was pondering that idea, Elvis started to whine. Matt went to the kitchen to find him some food. There was leftover spaghetti in the refrigerator (made by his mother two days ago, he thought sadly), so he took the plastic wrap from the bowl and took it out onto the porch.

"Here boy, eat this." He placed the bowl down on the floor, but Elvis paid it no attention.

"Come on boy, you should eat. You must be starving."

Elvis whined.

"What's wrong?" Matt coaxed.

He followed the dog's gaze towards the town. He couldn't see anything unusual. The dog probably sniffed a rabbit foraging for food close to the house. He sat down on the bench, where his father would normally be having a well-earned beer, and looked towards town while Elvis continued to whine. All was silent.

Until the scream.

Matt leapt to his feet and stared in the direction of the noise. Elvis became more animated and looked hysterically at Matt, wagging his tail, as if to say, "You hear it too human?" Matt's heart was beating racing as he waited to hear it again. A scream meant that someone in Millfield was conscious! He thought it had sounded human - a woman maybe. He was cautious, though, because he had heard possums and even koalas make noises eerily similar to the human voice, especially in the midst of mating. What convinced him in the end though, was the sheer volume of the cry. Despite town being around two kilometres away, the sound had travelled across the still night air and assaulted his senses as if the person was in the next room. Someone was conscious down there. He grabbed the shotgun and ran to the ute.
Chapter 13

Sanctuary

Sally found what she was looking for as the sun began to dip toward the western horizon - a small hotel with balconies that faced onto the street. She entered the unlocked lobby and called out. There was no answer. This would be her home for the night. She went behind the counter and found the board that held the keys to the rooms. Most of the spaces were empty, which meant that those rooms had probably been occupied before the "event". There were two keys for rooms on the ground floor, but she ruled those out immediately for safety reasons, before taking the key for Room 14, which was on the first floor. She needed it to be one of the balcony rooms she had seen from the street. After checking that the rear entrance to the building was locked, she secured the lobby doors and headed upstairs to her room. The stairwell was awfully gloomy in the late afternoon light, and Sally felt a strong sense of relief once she was safely in her room with the door locked. She threw her bag on the bed and collapsed beside it, suddenly realising how exhausted she was. "No fucking wonder'" she thought to herself. She'd lived through a day that was probably unique in the history of humanity. She was still crying when she fell asleep.

When she woke, the last remnants of light were leeching from the room and the silence was overwhelming. She flicked the light switch but it was unresponsive. She went to the balcony and looked out at her new world - her new dark reality. The streetlights weren't work, but in a couple of places, light spilled onto the street, which meant that some electricity was still on. A cat strolled across the street toward her building, but apart from that, nothing moved. She turned away from the window, more depressed than she had ever felt in her life and sat on the bed. She removed the contents of her backpack, and spread them out on the quilt - candles, a dead phone, a handful of breakfast bars, a bottle of water, tampons, a purse, her journal, a collection of pens and pencils, and the novel she had been reading - "The Old Man and the Sea". She lit one of the candles and ate two breakfast bars and drank half of her water, before resuming her vigil on the balcony. The breeze that had caused her problems with the fire earlier had died down completely, creating a bizarre silence which was a new experience for a girl who had lived in the big, noisy city her whole life.

Sally was in need of comfort. In those times when her mother let her down (like the time she forgot her birthday), Sally found solace in her own thoughts. By logically analysing a situation and writing about it, Sally found she could depersonalise it, taking away some of the pain brought on by her emotions. She needed to evaluate this crazy situation she had found herself in. She went back into the room, grabbed her journal and pen, and sat down at the small desk to make a list:

_1. Everybody gone._

She crossed that out and started again.

_1. Almost everybody gone (I saw that one crazy guy earlier today), therefore there are people left behind (of which I am one)._

_2. Is it possible to evacuate 2 million people overnight in silence? NO!_

_3. People must be somewhere. Where? Still in city? Yes. Where? ... Hiding? Ridiculous!!!_

_4. Mental illness. Am I crazy? Have to assume not! Only option._

_5. Am I in danger? Yes. From illness, accident, crime, lack of water and food etc._

_6. How long before all of the electricity goes off? Days? Hours? Minutes? Use it before it shuts down? Why? For information!!!! Internet may still be online. Find others!!_

_7. Short term strategy: get information, stay out of trouble, don't get sick, don't get into dangerous situations, and wait._

_7. Wait for what? Wait for things to return to normal! Where should I wait? In the city. Why? Because that's all I know. How long will I wait? Until I can't stand it any more!_

_8. Then what???????_

Sally read her list and realised that it hadn't answered any of the big questions, but it certainly made her feel a little better seeing her situation written down in black and white. It felt as if she owned the problem now and could somehow cultivate some small measure of control. She reread number six in her list. She couldn't believe that she hadn't thought of the Internet before! She decided to make a list of rules to help her get through the next few days. If nothing changed she would develop something more long-term. She started a new page in her journal.

_Sally's Rules_

_1. Make this room my base (it feels pretty secure)._

_2. Assume there is danger (until proven otherwise)._

_3. Don't go out at night, if possible._

_4. Gather supplies (food, water, medical)._

_5. Get information (find Internet somewhere)._

_6. Hide until safety is guaranteed (I am rescued?)_

Sally read her new list. Not much of a plan at all really, but if she stuck to it, she felt that she might increase her chances of survival until 'normal service was resumed'. She went back out onto the balcony and peered up and down the deserted street. She wondered about the lights. There was possibility that one of those lit-up shops had a computer with Internet access. She thought she had read somewhere that the Internet was established by the US Defence Department to have reliable communications in the event of a major electricity disruption or in times of war. That's why telephone lines were used; they didn't require very much electricity to send data. A computer, however, did require electricity, and Sally would only be able to access the Internet with a computer while the electricity was still on. She became furious with herself that she hadn't thought of electricity before she decided to stay in this hotel. Why didn't she pick somewhere with power? It didn't matter now. She had made her choice based on safety, and she was going to stick with it. She did need to try to find information, however, by going down to the street, and trying to find a computer that might still be online. But then she thought of the rule she had just written, about not going out at night. On the surface that rule made sense, but what would happen if the electricity went out while she slept? The Internet would be lost to her forever. She looked down into the street and analysed her choices. She had only seen one person all day (almost eight hours ago) so a short trip to find a working computer was a chance worth taking, especially if she was vigilant. The street looked deserted and harmless. She made her decision. She let herself out of the room and headed downstairs.

She stood at the locked lobby doors and surveyed the street outside. Nothing moved. She unlocked the door and stepped outside before pulling it closed behind her in case she needed to get back inside quickly. She thought about relocking it, but decided not too in case she needed to get back inside in a hurry. She had noticed a real estate office earlier, and now she kept to the shadows and tried to make as little noise as possible, as she headed towards it. It was funny how the night made you feel so much more vulnerable, she thought.
Chapter 14

The Dog

Matt gunned the ute towards town, and noticed there were no lights visible at all. Searching for the source of the scream would be much harder, but it would also provide him with some cover if he needed it. He might be on a wild goose chase but at least he was doing _something_. He had no reason to begin his search anywhere in particular, so he decided to head straight into the centre of town, and then cruise outwards, much as he had done earlier, in the fruitless search for his parents. He arrived at his starting point, stopped the car, and looked around while the engine idled. Nothing looked any different from his earlier search, so he began to drive. In first gear he rolled along the empty streets with both windows down, scanning the night through the windscreen and driver's side window, while Elvis kept watch from the passenger's seat. A couple of times Matt was startled by a sudden movement in the darkness, but it had just turned out to be dogs roaming the streets, pets no longer. The whole experience was eerie. All of these people lying unconscious in their homes, made Matt feel very uncomfortable. Usually at this time, early in the evening, houses would be filled with the smells of cooking, the sounds of family conversations and the warm glow of the television. Teenagers would be on their computers doing homework, or updating Facebook, while their little brothers or sisters were tucked up in bed for the night, as their parents relaxed at the end of their day. Now, though, was only darkness and silence.

Matt's anxiety was palpable as he peered down every street, and into every yard, as he looked for any sign of human activity. After almost half an hour of driving the streets at a snail's pace, he was about to give up and go home. His eyes were playing tricks on him, and he was beginning to think that the scream he had heard was nothing more than that of a feral animal. Then, as he shifted up through the gears to leave Millfield and head home, Matt caught a movement in the shadows at the end of the street. He slowed down to walking speed and drove in that direction. As he got closer, the headlights revealed another dog, a Dalmatian, loping along casually, pausing every now and then to sniff at something on the ground. From the car Matt watched as the dog peed on a bus shelter, before it turned and began to trot away. What happened next was so unexpected and illogical that Matt wondered if he were going mad. Something, or somebody, leaped from behind the bus shelter, seized the dog and dragged it away as it yelped it terror. Matt raced his car to the end of street, while Elvis whined frantically beside him. He screeched to a stop beside the bus shelter, grabbed the shotgun, and ran after the shadowy figure, but whatever had grabbed the dog was nowhere to be seen. Matt and Elvis stood side by side, silently, looking for some sign of the attacker. Nothing moved. He went back to his truck and felt around under the front seat until he found the flashlight that lived there with the fast food wrappers. He said a silent prayer and flicked it on, sending a bright circle of light onto the ceiling of his car. "Come on boy. Let's explore."

With Elvis by his side, Matt headed in the same direction as the dog-snatcher. He had only walked about twenty paces when he heard odd noises coming from a house on his right. He paused and shone his flashlight down the side of a rundown cottage. He walked down the path that headed into the backyard, stepping over a child's tricycle before he came to the end of the path. Elvis was by his side. He scratched the dog behind the ear and noticed that he was shaking. He took a deep breath and peered around the side of the house.

Matt's mind reeled and he felt his already fragile grip on reality stretch like a giant rubber band. His mind to black out and not have to deal with the vision he was witnessing. In this ordinary, family yard, beside the trampoline, a person, no, a thing that had once been a person was savaging the dalmation he had seen earlier. The dog was clearly dead, and the 'person-thing', was on all fours, tearing at the stomach of the dog, face-first. The purpose of this attack was clearly more than just a desire to feed; there was a brutal savagery about it that implied anger, desperation and violence that had little to do with normal human behaviour. The 'person-thing' held the dog down with its' hands, and was feeding noisily on the entrails of the still-warm animal. There was a lot of blood, and strings of tissue and saliva spooled from the 'person-thing's' mouth as it greedily devoured the dog's glistening insides.

If Matt had realised the immediate danger he was in, he would have retreated to the car as quickly as possible. Shock, however, affects different people in different ways, and Matt's response was to shut down as his mind attempted to seek a place where it could function again. As he stared at the hellish scene before him, other sensory inputs also atrophied temporarily. It was as if he had tunnel vision and time had slowed down. Elvis, too, for reasons probably more related to survival than fear, had become silent and still. So when another 'person-thing' entered the yard from the other side of the house, Matt was totally taken by surprise. Without fear the second creature (Matt couldn't think of them as people any more, even though this one was wearing work boots, denim jeans and hi-vis safety vest) sprinted at the feeder and attacked him with as much cruelty as the first creature had attacked the dog. Despite being ambushed so suddenly, the first feeder responded ferociously, as it defended itself with fists, feet and teeth. Matt could actually see chunks of flesh being ripped from his face. Then, through the fog of his shock, Matt felt a vague pressure on his leg and looked down to see Elvis frantically nuzzling him with his snout. Suddenly Matt's brain snapped back to reality and he knew that he needed to get out of town right now, while these beasts were preoccupied with each other. He tapped the dog on the head, and ran as fast as he could to his truck and jumped in, while Elvis scrambled frantically over him and into the passenger seat. He revved the engine, dropped the clutch and sped towards the safety of his farm. He didn't stop to look back.
Chapter 15

Contact

Sally opened the door and stepped into the real estate office, making a little bell above the door tinkle. When she turned to close the door, the only thing she could see was her own pale reflection staring back. She barely recognised herself. The events of the day seemed to have turned her into a different person - someone older and harder. Perhaps she would need to be those things to survive this nightmare. She went to the desk and sat down at the computer, making a silent wish that it was not password-protected. As the machine booted up she surveyed her surroundings. It was a typical small office - a reception desk (which she was sitting at), four chairs for clients, and a coffee table littered with brochures and old, dog-eared magazines with names like 'Motorcycle Enthusiast' and 'Investment Monthly. A door led into the back, where there was probably a smaller office or two. After what seemed an eternity, the computer made the 'welcome, sound and Sally double-clicked on the Internet Explorer icon.

The page that popped up was something to do with real estate. Sally wasn't interested in that so she typed in the Google web address and hit enter. Into the query field, she typed. "Where have all the people gone?" 1.23 seconds later she found that she had 140,000 responses. That scared her, because knew that an average Google search threw up millions of responses. She guessed that most of the people that were capable of reporting on the situation were among the missing. She looked at the first few links and clicked on one that seemed to be a reputable news website. It took her to a New York journalist's blog:

_"My name is Lukas Soulis. I work as a journalist here in New York. Today I spent a couple of hours locked in a vacant office to meet my deadline on an article I was writing. My boss is a hardass, so I had to make it. I turned my phone off and didn't tell anyone where I was. When I finished my piece came out, everyone had vanished, and gone into some weird kind of hibernation."_

Sally stopped reading. _"Hibernation?"_ What the hell did that mean? Had everyone fallen asleep? That seemed ridiculous, but how would she really know? She had only seen the inside a few buildings. Maybe everyone _was_ asleep. She could find out tomorrow, in the daylight. Being out at night in the preternatural quiet was giving her the creeps. She read on:

" _I guess if you're reading this you might know that already. From my research, I think this has happened everywhere - around the world I mean. There are others here in the city who haven't succumbed to the sickness (or whatever it is) but not many of us. Nobody knows what to do. Some want to stick together, others are just waiting at home for their loved ones to wake up or come home._

_Like some of the others, I can't find any of my friends or family. I have found some people, though - in weird places - unconscious but definitely alive. I searched the newspaper building. Something told me to check the basement. I don't know why ... intuition? Whatever. Everybody from the office was down there -sleeping it looked like. Photographers, security guys, journalists - about 30 of them. That was some fucked up scary shit! I got out of there. I went out into the street and walked six blocks until I found somebody. It was cop, funnily enough. Tough guy. He was sitting in the gutter crying like a baby. I asked him what had happened. He just looked at me. I spoke to two more people after that (after another hour of walking). They knew no more than I did. They were looking for their families. I told them what I found in the basement of my building. They looked shocked, then starting running back home. They didn't even bother to thank me. I'm at home now writing this. I'm stopping though. I just can't. I know I should feel special. This is one big news story right? A big exclusive for a little journalist like me! I can't see any newspapers in my future though. I have a really bad feeling about this. It doesn't feel like it might fix itself. I don't know why, just a gut feeling. This ... situation will get worse IMHO. This is my plan though: get some supplies in, then lock myself inside for a couple of days. See what happens. However, I AM NOT CONFIDENT!!! I won't be writing any more- no audience right? If anyone reads this (which in itself would be a fucking miracle) I wish you good luck. I hope I am wrong about all of this."_

Sally shivered. She looked at a few more websites and only found variations on the same theme. Almost everybody in the world had found a reasonably secluded place and gone into some kind a bizarre hibernation. The few that were left behind were alone, scared, and had absolutely no idea how to proceed or what they should be doing. There were no authorities, there was no infrastructure and there was no government. For the time being she was on her own. If she was scared before, now she was absolutely terrified. The thought of a couple of million people lying in nooks and crannies around the city was horrific. She felt helpless and was on the verge of tears.

Then the lights went out.

"Shit"! She was getting to her feet when a noise from the back of the office stopped her in her tracks. She turned towards the source of the sound, as a shadowy figure lunged from the dark doorway and charged at her. She turned and ran, plunging through the front door, slamming it shut behind her. As she sprinted across the street she heard an almighty crash as the figure slammed into the closed door. Again and again the person smashed into the door, but it couldn't break through. Sally kept running until she reached her hotel's doorway. She shoved the door open and threw herself inside. The foyer was pitch black. Why hadn't she thought to take a flashlight with her? Stupid! She locked the door behind her and scurried up the stairs towards her room. As she mounted the stairs she fished the key out of her front pocket. She had reached her door and was fumbling the key into the lock when she heard the door from Room 13 at the end of the hall burst open. She risked a glance behind her as she threw herself into her room, and sensed, rather than saw, a malevolent shadow racing down the hallway towards her. She slammed the door and locked it, as the figure slammed into it from outside. Sally screamed as the door rattled in its' frame. "Fuck off! Leave me alone you freak!" She ran to the bathroom and locked herself in, before climbing into the bath and curling up in the foetal position with her fingers in her ears. She began to shake uncontrollably as she went into shock.
Chapter 16

Carnage

It was another cool, clear morning when Elvis woke Matt by climbing on him and licking his face. He let the dog out, and peed from the edge of the porch, as he scratched his head and peered towards Millfield. It had taken him hours to get to sleep last night after his encounter with the 'feeders' (as he now thought of them), but that may have been because he was sleeping with the lights on. When he did finally drift off to sleep, it was filled with dreams populated by vicious creatures devouring each other. In another sad and horrific nightmare, a vision of his mother was begging him to take out the garbage, where the garbage was his father's dead body. The bleakness of that vision still clung to him like burial garment.

After Matt had eaten breakfast and put some clothes on, he sat on the bench to think, while Elvis roamed in the front garden. There would be some very difficult decisions made over the next few days, but before then he needed to find out more about the once-human creatures that appeared to have taken over his town. He didn't know if there were more feeders than the two he saw attacking each other, but he had to assume that everybody who had gone into hibernation had woken up as an ultra-violent, killing machine, with very few human characteristics remaining. That was logical, surely? The fact that he had only seen two of them the previous night probably meant that they were just beginning to arise from their suspended state. By midnight the whole town could have been crawling with the things! He wondered how far the creatures would move from their 'nests'. Was he safe at the farm? What about their behaviour? Would they develop behaviours like animals, or would they just rage like zombies until they were all wiped out by hunger, violence or sickness? Matt knew that he would need to leave the farm today to try to answer some of these questions. His original plan had been to drive to Carswell, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised it was probably a waste of time. His main priority had to be to make sure that he was safe from the 'feeders', and for that he needed to see them again so that he could fortify the farm based on what he might learn. He needed to go back into town.

As he drove along the road towards Millfield Matt considered the events that had unfolded since yesterday morning. He couldn't reconcile the idea that he was the only person in the world untouched by the 'feeder virus'. There must be others beyond Millfield, and for his sanity, he would need to find them. However, he wasn't willing to risk his own safety just yet in a search for survivors. Until he had a better understanding of how this event had affected people, he was going to stay at the farm, and ensure that he had enough resources so that he could continue to look for his parents. First, though, he wanted to learn more about these creatures in town. He locked Elvis in the laundry for the dog's own safety, but also because he didn't want any distractions if he had to make a quick retreat from a crazed feeder. He made sure his shotgun was fully loaded, and as an extra precaution had his sharpest bush knife holstered on his belt. In the pockets of his cargo pants he carried spare shells, just in case. He was only taking the gun along for self-defense, though - he had no interest in hunting zombies. All he wanted to do was to gather information to help him understand the situation he was in. The last thing he desired was to have to blast away at one of his friends or relatives with a shotgun. Observe and get out. That was the plan. He climbed into the ute and pulled away from the farm.

Matt slowed as he got closer to town to give himself a better chance of spotting anybody who might have come out of their coma and be wandering around. He also needed to watch for violent feeders like the ones he saw last night. Up ahead something on the side of the road caught his eye. On any other day Matt would have been certain that it was road kill, maybe a roo or a fox. Today, though, he knew there was another very disturbing likelihood. He stopped the car and walked over to the reddish lump on the side of the road. These were not animals. He took a couple of paces off the road and vomited the entire contents of his stomach onto the gravel shoulder. After the events of last night this discovery shouldn't have been a complete surprise, but the unglamorous reality of the vision before him was a severe shock nonetheless. Once his retching had subsided and he had rinsed his mouth from a warm bottle of water he found on the floor of the truck, Matt forced himself to study the corpse, or what was left of it. Most of the soft tissue had been torn from the skeleton, the ribs were picked almost clean, and most of the face had been chewed off. The only remaining flesh was hanging from the bony frame in stringy flaps or white gristly lumps. Here and there remnants of the victim's clothes were scattered around as if they had been chewed through to get at the flesh. Matt looked around anxiously, realising that if these creatures were capable of this kind of savagery towards each other, they would think nothing of treating him as mid-morning snack. The road, though, was deserted in all directions. Shaking, pale, and weak in the legs, Matt climbed into his truck, rolled up the windows and locked the doors. For the fourth time in three days he headed back into town.

Like most teenagers, Matt Winton had seen his share of gory horror movies, but that didn't prepare him for the brutal realism of the change that had come over his town in the last forty-eight hours. He drove through the ] streets and counted each body he found. He stopped at eighty-three. There were more, though. He just lost count. Maybe didn't want to count. Couldn't bear to know the true figure. The corpses displayed varying degrees of dismemberment. Some were like the one he found on the way in to town, and had been chewed down to gristle and bone, while others had only been half-eaten. Maybe they were getting full, Matt thought, which made him shiver, as he watched the crows and flies feasting on the already decomposing flesh. Within days these scavengers would reduce the corpses to little more than skeletons.

Of all the bodies Matt saw that day, he only recognised two. Mr Croft, a retired English teacher from Millfield High, and Mrs Watson, a nice old lady who had been friends with Matt's grandparents before they had passed away. Like a few of the other bodies, their destruction was less comprehensive, less ruthless. Their faces were almost untouched by the frenzy of the feeders, while only the softest parts of their torsos had been eaten. Humans weren't the only casualties of the previous night's violence, however, and there were also a number of dogs and cats that had been too slow to escape a gruesome end. The saddest part of the whole experience, though, was the skeletons of the children. Tiny, frail piles, dotting the streets here and there like Gothic birdcages. Matt cried and cried.

If the feeders had been creatures of the day, Matt would surely have died that morning. The combination of sorrow, shock and despair would have made him an easy target for the rampant beasts. He had no fight in him. He was broken. The well-adjusted sixteen-year-old boy with a loving family, had no weapon in his emotional arsenal to cope with the sights he had witnessed, so if a feeder had attacked him, he would surely have joined the community of the dead. But he saw none.

Before Matt went home he knew he needed to check a theory that had been festering in the recesses of his subconscious. Deep inside he knew that if he didn't follow this hunch, he might never have the courage to do so in the future, and if his theory turned out to be correct it might help his quest for survival (although at the moment, he didn't really care about survival one way or the other). There was one place he needed see again – the cellar of the pub.

Matt's theory was simple. If these creatures were not roaming around town today then they must be hiding again. He didn't have any idea why they would need to do that, but it was really beside the point right now. He needed to know what they did, not why they were doing it. He pulled up in front of the pub, and grabbed his shotgun and flashlight. He flicked off the weapon's safety and stepped out of the car. The only things moving were clouds floating across a perfect blue sky, and trees whispering in the light breeze. Matt opened the door cautiously and walked into the building, with his shotgun held in front of him and his finger on the trigger. Apart for the increased number of flies buzzing around the uneaten meals, the scene in the front bar hadn't changed since he had been there the day before. There was nobody in sight - human or otherwise.

Matt was in mortal danger if his theory about the feeders was wrong, and he would probably not leave the cellar alive. If his theory was correct, however, chances of survival might be improved significantly. It was a risk worth taking, because he had nothing to lose. He went to the cellar door and peered into the darkness below. There was only silence. With his flashlight in one hand and shotgun in the other, he crept quietly down the stairs. He paused at the bottom and listened, but heard nothing. He crept to the spot by the beer kegs where he had seen the unconscious bodies the day before and shone his flashlight into the gloomy recess. His theory was correct. The feeders had returned to their nesting spot.

He counted the hibernating bodies and noticed that the number was less than it had been. Matt couldn't know for sure, but he was felt there were at least three or four missing. He wondered if they had been killed by other feeders in last night's bedlam or had simply found a different hiding place. As he shone the flashlight over the group, Matt noticed that they were much dirtier than they been yesterday, and their faces were covered with dried, crusty blood. He could see, too, that some of these feeders had sustained injuries, which were still seeping blood onto the tile floor beneath them. He'd seen enough. He had the information he was seeking and it was time to go home to grieve. He trudged to the car and drove home with thoughts of a bleak and desperate future in his head.
Chapter 17

Extract from Sally's journal:

_"I'm alive. I'm not sure if that's a good thing but it's a start. The two days since I was attacked have been the worst of my life so I've decided to write things down to help me stay sane (do insane people know they're insane, though?) I think somebody needs to record these events so it might as well be me. After all, I've suddenly become one of the best writers in the world (ha ha). Anyway, after I locked myself in the bathroom last night I think I might have passed out for a while. By the time I recovered, the person who tried to attack me (the second one, from Room 13) had stopped banging on my door. I felt awful. My head was pounding and I wanted to throw up, but I didn't. I lay there without moving for about ten minutes, and listened carefully before I dared to leave the bathroom. There were no sounds from inside my hotel room, but I could hear some pretty scary stuff going on in the street – occasional muffled screams and less often the sound of breaking glass._

_After a while I got brave enough to leave the bathroom and that's when I realised my front door had not been broken in. This place turned out to be a good choice! I went out to the balcony to survey the street and what was below me was like some crazy scene by that Bosch guy who did those paintings of Hell. People were chasing each other and when a faster or stronger one caught a weak one, they would rip out their throat with their teeth then a whole gang of other ones would join in until the victim was just a pile of bones and gore. (FYI, I just read that back and it sounds like I was sitting out on that balcony watching a movie, scarfing down popcorn and having a great old time, but actually I was alternating between crying, covering my eyes and pissing my pants). Once I got the gist of what was going on down there, I didn't need to see any more. I came back inside, lit a candle and tried to think. And this is what I thought – "You need a drink"! So (like a chip off the old block, hey mum?) I raided the minibar, drank everything I could find and passed out (again)._

_When I woke up the sun was streaming in through the balcony doors and everything was quiet. And guess what? I had a hangover. A Coke from the evil minibar seemed to help and I shuffled out to the balcony to see what I could see. First thing I noticed was that there were no savages roaming the streets like last night. The second thing was the bodies. If there was a bomb invented which would only blow up people and not buildings, this is what it would do. One floor below me on the street were scores of people that looked as if they'd been eaten by werewolves. Some were just skeletons. Some people were just bits of people. Crows were picking at fleshy scraps and a stray dog had his whole head inside someone's torso and I could hear the wet slurping sounds it made as it gorged on the corpse. I ran to the bathroom and puked my guts up. Bloody hangover!_

_I didn't know what to do next. I paced that little hotel room for a couple of hours and went out to the balcony occasionally to see if there were any "werewolves" about. There weren't. Then I slept. Then I paced for another hour! I heard and saw nothing from outside. I wondered what had happened to the freak from Room 13. I was so absorbed with the mayhem last night I totally forgot that it was probably inside my building the whole time! Maybe he or she (it?) sat outside my door all night like a cat waiting for a mouse. I'm so glad I didn't think of that last night, by the way._

_By about one o'clock in the afternoon (I think! I had no way of telling the time – my phone was dead and only old people wore watches, right?) I had decided that the sickness that had put almost everyone to sleep, and then woken them up as crazed killers, had also made them nocturnal - like vampires. And that is why they weren't on the street today. I felt that I could probably leave the hotel and try to find help if I wanted to. My analytical self knew that I wouldn't encounter any of the creatures during the daylight, but my emotional self wouldn't let me leave that room. So I stayed. I laid on the double bed and tried to concentrate on the "Old Man and the Sea". I racked up eighty bucks on my bill (which I won't be paying by the way, the service here is terrible) by eating all the snacks from the minibar. And I cried (a lot). I have to admit, though, I was pretty curious about what would happen that night when the sun went down. Would I see a repeat of last night's chaos, and, more importantly, would I learn anything that might help me?_

_I thought about a lot of scary stuff too that afternoon. I am pretty realistic so I kind of knew I would never see my mother again. The fact that I could think about that so rationally made me think I was probably still in shock. The weight of being alone in the world with no family will hit me later I guess. My mother was a good person, but I was always second to her needs. My God, she used to tell me that! She looked after number one. She loved me I'm sure but ... I don't know ... maybe she didn't need me. Hey, if I'm brutally honest with myself, maybe I didn't really need her either. I like being alone. That's probably just as well now, cause it seems like there might only be about ten people left on the planet and I can't see myself buddying up with those freaks from last night!_

_As the late afternoon turned to dusk I took up a vigil on the veranda. I wanted to see how soon these things appeared after sunset. It didn't take long. The sun had disappeared behind the buildings across the street when the first one showed up. It was a guy, pretty tall and muscly, wearing business clothes – black trousers, white business shirt, tie hanging loosely around his neck. I looked at his feet. Sometime during the night his shoes had gone missing. He didn't look too bothered though! I was sitting on the chair that I'd dragged from inside the room and only my eyes were peeping over the edge of the balcony. I didn't want to be noticed, even though I felt I was pretty safe. I watched it walk out from a florist's across the street. It had blood caked all over its' face and his shirt was black with it. I watched it as he studied the street. I thought it was looking for something, and I was right. After a couple of minutes he spotted a second person come out of a restaurant a few doors down. Another guy. He looked like a chef from his outfit, but it was hard to tell because of all the blood and dirt on him. They looked at each other like cowboys in an old western. I think I heard one of them snarl at the other but I'm not sure. I waited for them to attack each other, but it never happened. What happened was this - a third person appeared on the street, a middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform. I don't know where she came from because I was so intent on watching the other two. She didn't have as much blood on her as the men, but I could see from the dark stain around her mouth that she had her fill last night too. She surveyed her surroundings (more like a frightened animal than a person) and then spotted the guys across the street. She froze as she stared them down. Then suddenly and simultaneously the two men went into action and sprinted straight for her, making little grunting sounds each time their feet hit the road. She tried to turn and run away but only got about five metres before the men pounced on her and killed her. Then it was feeding time. There was a lot of blood. Let's just leave it at that._

_Over the next couple of hours I got a pretty good idea of how these beasts functioned and it had certainly settled down a bit compared to previous night's bedlam. There were fewer of them on the street for one thing (maybe some only ate every couple of days), and the violence seemed a little more deliberate (or maybe I was getting jaded). One thing that was pretty clear, though, was that the strong were dominant, the younger, quicker ones seemed to skirt around the edges and keep out of trouble and women who were of child-baring age (let's say fifteen to forty?) were left alone to get on with their feeding, in most cases. In other words, the old, the very young and the weak became the victims of everybody else (a bit like high school ha ha). What I had witnessed over those couple of hours I knew would continue throughout the night. There was nothing more to learn._

_I closed the balcony door and went to bed (no minibar tonight)._

_I love you mum."_
_Chapter 18_

_The Black Dog Visits_

Matt stayed in bed for three days. He was crushed by sadness, and couldn't see any point going on. If it weren't for Elvis he might simply have stayed in bed until he wasted away, but the dog kept him company and probably saved his life. Matt did not eat for three days, but even in his darkest hours, he couldn't allow himself to let the dog suffer. So once a day he climbed out of bed and poured some dry kibble into the dog's bowl, before heading straight back to his personal hell. Elvis repaid the debt by sleeping in the bed beside the boy and reminding him that he wasn't completely alone just yet.

Matt didn't give the feeders much thought. He didn't care if they took over the world, and he didn't care if they found him in the night and savaged him while he slept. His despair was total and all consuming. He had given up hope of ever seeing his parents again and that hurt the most. He imagined that they were dead, because the alternative was too horrific to contemplate. His parents had loved him and they had always planned on him taking over the farm at some point, but now he didn't know. What was the point of running the farm if there was no one to share his achievements with? What was the point of being alive in this hideous new world? What was the point of living without family or friends? For three days these thoughts weighed him down as if he was a very sick fish at the bottom of a huge, dark ocean. He wanted to be dead.

It was the most mundane of things that brought Matt back from the vice-like grip of his depression. Around midday of the fourth day a sound seeped into his consciousness that triggered a small spark in him. It was the sound of the chickens squawking to be fed. He tried to ignore their racket but when he thought of all the care and attention his mother had given them over the years, he knew that it would not be possible. Wearily, he pushed the blankets away and climbed out of bed.

Before he went to the chickens, though, he needed to use the bathroom. The sight that greeted him in the mirror was almost as disturbing as some of the sights he had seen in town. The boy that had woken up on the farm last Saturday morning was gone. This new person staring back at him was a ghost. Matt was a reasonably thin boy to begin with, but now he looked absolutely gaunt. His skin was pale and there were black rings under his glassy eyes. He looked more closely. Where had he seen this look before? Then it hit him. He remembered the photos he'd seen of soldiers fighting in the Vietnam War. Their eyes looked glassy, blank, and soulless and gave away nothing but an impression of the horrors they had witnessed. 'They're my eyes now,' he thought sadly.

By the time he got to the chickens they were frantic. Their food had run out a couple of days ago, but there was still some water in the drip feeder. He went to the shed and scooped up a bucket of pellets from the bin before pouring it on the ground outside their pen. Then he opened the coop and watched as they charged the food, devouring it enthusiastically. He left the gate open so that they could forage around the yard for worms for the rest of the day. He studied the sky, and saw a storm moving in from the southwest. Monumental thunderheads were building rapidly and soon it would be raining. He turned to go back inside, and noticed that Elvis was standing close by, watching him.

"It's okay boy, I'm back," he said, as Elvis wagged his tail furiously and jumped up on Matt to be embraced. For the first time in four days, he smiled.

For the rest of the afternoon Matt worked, simply because that's what he had been brought up to do. He got the quadbike out of the shed and went out to check on the cattle. It hadn't rained for a month, and the paddock was light on feed, so he dragged a couple of hay bales out of the nearby shed and threw them into the pen. When that was done he checked the sky again and guessed that it would be raining hard before dark. The farm could use a drenching, so a storm would be welcome. As he rode the perimeter of the paddocks, checking fences and looking for maintenance tasks to be done, his mind kept going back to the events that had unfolded in Millfield. The last few days in bed had allowed some ideas to ferment in his mind, and as he rode he had time to consider things in a more rational manner. How could so many people simply go into a state of hibernation simultaneously? Initially he had thought that maybe it was some kind of virus, but he had never heard of viruses that effected entire populations so quickly. He briefly considered some kind of mass hypnosis or mind control, but how would that be delivered? He ruled out electronic communications and the water supply because surely that would not have had such an effective coverage and apart from himself, the 'virus' had hit one hundred per cent of the town. His final hypotheses were pretty crazy, but he had to explain this or he didn't think he would be able to move forward. His next theory was the zaniest. What if the entire earth had been blanketed by some kind of cosmic fallout that caused a zombie-like state in the population? It would certainly explain how everyone was affected simultaneously, but why would it only affect humans? Maybe it was only targeted at humans, by super-intelligent extra-terrestrial beings that needed Earth as a new home? Matt ruled that out as being too ludicrous. If you were an alien species with that kind of power, it would be easier just to kill everyone, surely?

His final theory was the one he decided to go with, simply because it seemed a little more scientific than the others, and he couldn't think of anything else. Could it be that humans had reached plague proportions and the planet needed to cull them for life to survive on earth? Superficially, that seemed almost as outlandish as Matt's other theories, but he knew there were some scientific beliefs out there that made this concept usable enough for him. The earth's population had risen exponentially over the last few hundred years, and the human population was currently somewhere around twenty billion. It was up from only one billion not so long ago (a few hundred years, he guessed). On top of that, thousands of animal species were being wiped out every year. Another very recent phenomenon he knew of was the ease with which people, and animal species, were being moved around the globe. He had seen a show on The Discovery Channel that showed how whole ecosystems were being wiped out when fish, who were picked up in sea water as ballast in empty ocean going liners, were then deposited into a different system on the other side of the world, where they didn't belong, took up residence then wiped out the fish population of the local area. Also if you considered how humans were moving viruses and diseases around via air travel, and live animal exports, it was easy to see how the world could become a huge cross-contaminated Petrie dish of disease and sickness. Maybe Mother Nature finally decided that we were just too much trouble. Matt didn't know if that was possible, but as a boy who lived on the land he knew that animal species didn't behave as individuals, they behaved as a group. He thought of how whales beached themselves in large numbers and how flocks of birds sometimes attacked people for no reason. Matt was locking these thoughts away when the first raindrops started to fall. He rode back down the hill, put the chickens in their coop, filled up the generator, and then went inside to the empty house.
Chapter 19

Supplies

The morning after Sally observed the nighttime feeding frenzy, she had no option but to leave her room and venture outdoors. She had run out of snacks from the minibar, the water supply had trickled to nothing and she needed to stock up on medical supplies, and despite feeling confident that the zombies wouldn't come out in daylight, she knew that she needed to stay safe. She wasn't going to leave her building until the sun had been up for at least two hours, and she would make sure that she was safely home well before dark. She considered moving to another building, but couldn't really see any advantage and, besides, this place had served her well over the last couple of days. So when she felt that there was enough daylight outside, she strapped on her backpack and cautiously opened the door to the hallway. It was deserted. She paused and considered whether she needed some kind of weapon like a knife, but decided that her best chance of survival was to flee danger rather than face it, unless of course she could get her hands on a real weapon like a gun at some point in the future, even though she would have no idea how to use it. She could worry about that later. She closed the door and stepped into the carpeted corridor.

Sally passed Room 13 and noticed that the door was open. She wondered about her attacker from the first night. If it could open the door to get out of its' room, then it could also have opened the lobby door to let itself out of the hotel to join the others in their night of violence. Her stomach was clenched in knots of anxiety, but as she passed the darkened doorway nothing moved, and so she continued quickly and quietly down to the lobby. Her suspicion was confirmed; the front door had been opened after she had made sure it was locked the night before. That meant that the "once-humans" still had enough memory of their previous lives to perform simple tasks! They couldn't speak, and they were more like animals than people, but they had retained vestiges of skills that would help them survive in an urban environment.

She stepped out onto the street and surveyed the desolation around her. Bloody corpses dotted the city, like some extravagant Hollywood movie set, where the soundtrack was the incessant buzz of flies. Sally didn't see any dogs, but she knew she would need to be careful because it wouldn't take them long to revert to a feral state. She was also alert for other survivors as she remembered the encounter with the troubled man from her first day. She hoped, though, that not all survivors would be crazy, and she prayed that she would meet somebody who would be able to help. But for now she was alone.

Her first stop was a 'Dollars and Sense', a store that was filled with all kinds of products that had been made in China and were very cheap (although today everything would be free). She peered in through the windows and, when she was sure there were no creatures in there, she went inside. She found the first item she was looking for near the front counter- a watch. She saw that the time was 10:13 and strapped it to her wrist. In Aisle 2 she found a travel case with a retractable handle and wheels. Over the next ten minutes she loaded up the case with bottled water, energy bars, bulk packs of batteries, a portable CD/radio player, some very questionable CDs, toiletries and underwear. She stared at all of the goods on the shelves, untouched by looters. There were certainly enough resources to go around now, so that was one thing she wouldn't need to worry about. She left the store, and walked a block further down to a chemist to find basic medical supplies so that she would be able to treat simple ailments if necessary. Into her suitcase went aspirins, codeine, eye drops, bandages, antiseptic ointment, tampons, insect repellent and sunscreen. In the dispensary she smashed open the locked cupboards and found antibiotics that she might need as the city became more disease-ridden from the rotting corpses and the vermin that would follow. When she considered this scenario she wondered if she might actually need to leave the city at some point. After all, she was alone and sharing the place with a couple of million night-dwelling monsters. Maybe the countryside would be safer. The only problem was that the bush was like a different planet to her. She had never spent any time there and didn't know what she would find, even if she could make it there safely. Would resources be as plentiful? What about snakes and spiders, and all that emptiness? No. For the time being she would stay a city girl and take her chances with what she knew.

When her suitcase was filled, she wheeled it back to the hotel, where she bumped it up the stairs, before dumping the contents into her room. Over the next few hours she made three more trips for food, clothes and camping equipment such as gas-powered camp-ovens, lights and a sleeping bag. On one of her trips she was startled by the unexpected sound of gunshots in the distance. She stopped and listened. The blasts sounded close, but it was difficult to tell because of the echoes reverberating around the otherwise quiet streets. There were no more shots for over a minute so she decided there was no immediate danger, and continued with her tasks. As she worked through the afternoon, though, she heard to the sounds of gunshots in the distance and understood that it meant that she wasn't alone. This should have pleased her, but she found it unnerving. Roaming gangs of trigger-happy survivors was the last thing she needed. She went back to work keeping a close eye on the street. She didn't want to be surprised by the wrong people. She finished her supply gathering and headed back to the hotel. It was two o'clock and she was tired from making so many trips up and down the stairs. She went back down to the lobby, made sure the front and back doors were both locked, then went upstairs to her room and locked herself in for the night.

Safely in her 'bunker', Sally set up her gas lamps, played some very average music on her battery-operated CD player (after wasting five minutes scanning for radio stations), cooked a can of chilli on her camp-stove and drank two glasses of champagne. Then, as night fell, she took up her position on the balcony to study the creatures. Again, their numbers were smaller than the first night, but Sally noticed that their behaviour had changed again since the previous evening. The two male creatures that had killed the nurse last night now appeared together in the darkening city, like a team. As others appeared on the street Sally realised, to her horror, that the beasts seemed to be developing a rudimentary pack mentality. As the two alpha males prowled the street looking for weaker creatures to prey upon, the others in the group followed them at a 'respectful' distance. Sally was shocked that they had begun to form social groups so quickly, but if that wasn't scary enough, what happened next chilled Sally to her bones. As the pack loped along the street, below her vantage point on the balcony, the alpha male in the bloodied and torn business shirt paused and looked up, directly at her position. He seemed to be saying, "I know you're there." She shuddered violently and scurried inside, locking the door behind her.
Chapter 20

A Visitor in the Dark

As night fell, the rain became steadier. Matt listened as it peppered the tin roof and gushed through the downpipes, filling the water-tanks. He was cold, so he lit the fire and stared blankly at the flames and tried to imagine a life without his parents. It was difficult. He knew that he had enough resources to keep himself alive physically, but where would he get the emotional nourishment that came from being part of a family? He had no choice but to venture out tomorrow in search of other survivors. Being a hardened and anti-social loner might look cool in the movies, but Matt was mature enough, and scared enough, to know that it just wasn't him. He needed companions.

Despite his bleak mood, Matt was hungry. It dawned on him that he hadn't eaten for days, and working the farm all afternoon had given him an appetite. He microwaved some lasagne, which he shared with Elvis, and then sat on the couch and tried to formulate a plan for his uncertain future. More than ever, he wished his father were here because he would know what to do. Matt idolised his dad in the same way that all sons looked up to genuinely good men, and despite the fact that they argued occasionally, were great friends. They had the same sense of humour and a taste for action movies (which his mother couldn't stand) and they loved nothing better than sitting on the couch together with a packet of chips watching a football match. On the farm they worked together as a team, and when they went in to town Matt could see the pride in his father's eyes as he introduced his son to other farmers. Never being able to ask for his advice again was terrifying. "What should I do, dad?" Matt said aloud to the empty room, as tears welled in his eyes. Feeling useless and childish, the boy lay down on the couch and pulled a cushion over his face, thinking that if he could stop the tears he could stop the pain.

He dozed off, and when he opened his eyes and pushed the cushion from his face, Elvis was standing at the front window staring into the blackness. The rain was heavier now.

"What's up boy?" he asked. "Do you need to pee?"

Matt went to the front door and held it open so the Labrador could go outside and do its' business, but the dog remained at the window. Matt closed the front door and made sure it was locked as Elvis maintained his silent vigil. Matt joined him at the window, but the light from the front porch only illuminated a small area of grass in the front yard and beyond that there was nothing but darkness. The only sound he could hear was rain pattering steadily on the roof. "What's up boy? You're not freaking out on me are you?" The dog's instincts had been good over the last few days so Matt had a niggling feeling that he should be wary. He went to the kitchen, and grabbed the shotgun from the table, before taking it back to the living room where he leaned it against the window frame. Elvis hadn't moved. Next he went around the house to check that he had locked all of the doors and windows before flicking off the lights, including the one on the porch. He went back to the front window to watch.

As Matt's eyes adjusted to the dark, the view outside became slightly more visible. While everything was still only varying shades of black, there was at least some differentiation between the clearing around the house and the bush beyond. For ten minutes he stood side by side with Elvis, straining his eyes, but could see nothing other than darkness and rain. "Come on Elvis, this is silly. It's too dark out there. Even if something were wandering around we wouldn't see it. Relax."

But the dog held its' position.

Matt turned a lamp on and went back to the couch to consider tomorrow's strategy, which would see him drive to Carswell to search for survivors. It was only a thirty-minute drive and had a larger population than Millfield, so there might be a chance of finding somebody there who had escaped the 'virus. If he left early in the morning, there would be plenty of time to get there, look around and come home before it was dark. With that decided, it was time for bed, because tomorrow, like all of his days now, would be difficult. He stood up and headed to the window to get the shotgun before Elvis knocked it over, and as he did the dog barked, startling him severely.

Something was out there.

"Come on boy, enough of this shit. Let's see what's out there."

He opened the door and stepped onto the covered porch. Elvis followed Matt outside and stood beside him, alert, as he scanned the bush beyond the yard. Was something moving out there in the trees? It was so hard to tell with all the rain. Elvis barked again.

"Stay!" he commanded.

The last thing Matt needed was his only friend to be savaged by a wild boar, or worse. There it was again! A shadow was moving through the trees. Shit! What was it? Matt knew that it wouldn't be a survivor out there in the bush in this weather, so it was either feeders on the prowl for fresh meat, or a feral pig stumbling around. He hoped it was a pig. There it was again! Another movement, perhaps a little closer this time - something was definitely moving through the trees towards the farm! Matt's eyes were beginning to play tricks on him as he tried to follow the progress of the shadowy figure. This was ridiculous! He couldn't stay out here all night on the porch, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he thought those beasts were converging on the house. He decided to do what his father would have done. He went inside and grabbed the flashlight from under the kitchen sink and his dad's waterproof parka from the coat stand near the front door. He went back outside onto the porch and surveyed the night while pulling on the coat.

"Come on boy! Let's check it out."

As Matt stepped from the illuminated porch into the darkness of the yard, he felt as if he were leaving the safety of a ship for the dangers of a turbulent and mysterious ocean, as thousands of raindrops filtered through the flashlight's beam. He headed down the path towards the front gate and propped the light on the top of the gatepost so that its' beam pointed at the area where he had seen the movement. The gate creaked as it swung open and Matt paused, hands gripped tightly on his shotgun as he scanned for the intruder. Elvis whined beside him.

"It's okay boy. Just stay close."

He left the gate open behind him as he walked slowly toward the dense, wet scrub. He was beginning to believe that this was turning out to be a pointless exercise when something rustled in the bushes at the edge of the forest. Matt pointed the shotgun in the direction of the sound, just as the figure appeared, almost magically, half hidden in a clump of bushes only ten paces before of him. It wasn't a feral pig, Matt realised fearfully, as he raised the shotgun and tightened his finger on the trigger. Then in a moment that was profoundly and deeply horrifying, the creature in the shadows took a step forward, triggering a macabre sense of recognition in the boy.

"Dad?"

The creature that had once been Matt's father exploded from the trees and charged silently and brutally at his son. Matt stood motionless in shock as the beast moved in for the kill. There was no time to get into position before the feeder would rip out his throat with its teeth and bare hands. Matt was about to be savagely attacked and devoured by his father. Then Elvis was moving; snarling as he leapt at the creature, knocking it to its' knees before it had a chance to strike. Matt snapped out of his trance, raised the gun, and pulled the trigger. The blast caught the creature full in the chest, and sent it sprawling to the forest floor. Despite its' extensive injuries, though, it still managed to get to its' feet and came at Matt once more. He fired the second shell. He couldn't miss from such close range, and once more the feeder hit the muddy forest floor writhing in pain, its' breathing ragged and irregular. Matt knew that it was near death. The boy stood over the dying body of his father.

"I'm sorry Dad. I'm so sorry. Why did you come back? You should have stayed away."

Matt slumped to his knees and lifted his father from the mud. He hugged him with all of his strength, moaning like an injured animal, as the body went limp in his arms. His scream became one with the rain and the dark as he felt his hero's final breath ebb away.
Chapter 21

The Man in Black

When the sun was high enough in the sky Sally began walking the streets. The eye contact she'd made with the creature last night had shaken her badly and she didn't want to be alone any longer. Eventually those creatures would be looking further afield for their meals and she didn't want to end up trapped in her apartment with hordes of the creatures waiting for her in the street below. Their behaviour had already changed, and she knew there was also a possibility that they would get smart enough to eventually find a way into her building. She also couldn't be sure that they would stay creatures of the night forever. At the moment they didn't venture out during the daytime, but there was no guarantee that their habits wouldn't change over time as they became more comfortable with their new, savage personas and the environment that they now ruled.

As she walked the deserted streets Sally considered calling out for help, but the regular sound of gunshots in the distance discouraged that idea. If she encountered other survivors like herself, she hoped to spy on them and make a character judgement before making herself known to them. She knew that her instant psychological assessment wouldn't be foolproof, but she had to take as many precautions as she could because in this dangerous new world, she would pay a heavy price for any error in judgement.

Trudging through the streets was a very unpleasant experience, and Sally tried to keep a reasonable distance from the ever-present corpses, as they began to decompose and putrefy. She'd wrapped a red bandanna, sprayed with perfume, around her face to help with the smell, but could do nothing about the hideous sight of them. By now the rats had realised that there was a feast available and were becoming bolder. A nasty rat bite was the last thing Sally needed so, deciding that some type of personal protection may be prudent, she entered a sporting goods store and armed herself with a dangerous looking knife, which she holstered to her belt, and a baseball bat, which she stuffed into her partially unzipped backpack. She experimented before leaving the store and found that she could reach behind her, grab the handle of the bat and have it poised to strike quickly if she needed to. She hoped that she would only ever use it to protect herself from rats.

As Sally headed further away from her hotel, she was becoming more panic-stricken. If there were other people unaffected by the 'virus', why hadn't she seen them? Since the 'event' it seemed that the only people left in the city were herself, the crazy guy she saw on day one, and whoever was responsible for the gunshots she'd been hearing for the last couple of days. Sally looked at her watch and she was shocked to see that it was almost 1:30. That meant she had been walking almost non-stop for three hours and had seen no one. It was time to find somewhere shady to eat lunch and have a drink before beginning the long journey back to her hotel. She starting walking towards a tree studded park at the end of the street.

She was aware of how motionless the city was now. Without the hustle and bustle of people and traffic, the only movement was from the occasional roaming animal, pieces of litter blowing through the streets or trees swaying in the breeze. And that was how she first noticed him. If her brain hadn't become so attuned to the smallest of movements in her deadly new environment, she may not have seen the brief flash in the hotel, as the man inside raised a beer bottle to his mouth. She stood at the big window and stared into the gloomy front bar. He was sitting with his back to her, wearing black jeans, a tight fitting black t-shirt and heavy-duty elastic-sided boots. His muscular arms were covered in intricate tattoos and his short, dark hair had that ruffled on purpose look that young men seemed to like so much. Lying on the bar in front of him was some kind a big gun. Not a pistol though; it was a rifle or a shotgun. Sally didn't really know the difference, but, whatever it was called, it looked pretty serious all the same. Sally stared. The man didn't know he was being watched. What should she do? She was torn. This was the first person she had seen since the first day, and she was desperate for company. On the other hand, his body language was giving her no clues at all. He might be a gentle, caring soul who was as scared as she was, or a crazy serial killer who would rape her and leave her for dead, if given half a chance. The tattoos and black outfit meant nothing. Every boy other boy looked like a rock star these days. She surveyed the empty streets behind her. Nobody was going to help her with this decision. She had two choices - take a chance and make herself known to him, or sneak away and pretend she'd never seen him. What to do? The problematic decision was made for her, however, when the man turned around and stared straight at her.

Sally prepared to take flight and run away as fast as she could, but even as this thought was racing through her mind the object of her fear motioned for her to come inside, with a non-threatening wave of his hand. Indecisively, she stood rooted to the spot as she pondered her course of action. Again, the man tried to coax her inside with a little 'come here' gesture, without moving from his barstool. Sally still couldn't move. Her desire to be with another human being was being cancelled out by her fear of being trapped inside the pub with a complete stranger and his gun. Finally the man lost patience. He smiled, shrugged his shoulders and turned his back on Sally, returning his attention to his drink once more. Sally frowned. 'Is he ignoring me? We'll see about that!' she thought crankily, as she snatched the baseball bat from her backpack and headed inside to confront him.
Chapter 22

A Farewell

The storm had passed and the sky was a flawless blue. Matt was in the garden, going from shrub to shrub, delicately snipping flowers with his mother's gardening shears. Elvis sat on the front veranda watching him, with his head resting on his paws. Matt wondered if this would be the last time anybody would tend this beautiful, well-loved space that his mother had created from scratch. The boy thought that from now on beauty might be a luxury that he could barely afford. The events of last night had changed him, made his soul hard, like a piece of volcanic glass. He looked inside himself, trying to glimpse the positive, happy boy he'd been just a few days ago, but that person seemed to have gone somewhere else. In his place now was a man who had seen too much and, out of necessity, done things that no son should ever be expected to do.

After Matt had shot his father, he carried the body back to the house in the dark. The mud, rain and blood made the body slippery, but after a few attempts the boy managed to get his father's lifeless shell out of the deluge and deliver it onto the dry front porch. When his father's head clunked tonelessly against the worn timber boards, Matt felt something slip in his mind, but he managed to keep himself together enough to carry on. He walked to the shed and pulled a heavy canvas tarpaulin from an ancient tractor, and took a piece of coiled nylon rope that was hanging on the wall before returning to the front veranda, where Elvis was patiently maintaining a vigil beside the body. Matt laid the tarp out flat on the floor, and went inside to the linen cupboard, where he found a couple of his mother's best towels. He used the first one to clean up his father's face and wipe down the body as best he could. Then he carefully removed the shredded shirt and covered the gunshot wounds with a second towel, before dressing him in a clean shirt he had found in his father's closet. When he was satisfied that he had restored a little dignity to his mentor and guardian, he dragged the body onto the canvas tarp and wrapped him as tightly as he was able. Finally he used the nylon rope to secure the makeshift shroud, so that by the time he was finished his father looked as if he were ready for a burial at sea. With the first part of the task complete, Matt slumped down on his mother's favourite rattan chair and wondered why he wasn't crying. Within seconds he was asleep.

Matt woke as the first light of dawn was colouring the sky and the magpies were warbling to each other in the eucalypt trees. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. Falling asleep outdoors had been stupid! He had been unprotected from the feeders and he owed his survival to nothing more than sheer good luck. A more religious person might have said that the spirit of his father protected him while he slept, but Matt was a realist, and knew that the only way his father lived on now was through the genes he had passed on, the practical skills he had taught the boy, and the values he had endowed him with. Matt scratched Elvis behind the ears and went into the kitchen to find the dog something to eat. While Elvis ate a microwave-defrosted steak from the freezer Matt forced himself to eat two bananas and drink the last of the milk from the fridge. He was going to need all of his energy today.

The spot he chose for the burial was a shady corner of mum's garden beside a bench where she had loved to sit and read. The rain had made the ground considerably softer near the surface, but about half a metre down, rocks made the going difficult. It was almost ten o'clock before he was satisfied with the size of the pit and he was ready to bring this latest in a bizarre chain of events to a close. He went to the shed and hitched the trailer to the all-terrain vehicle, which he then towed to the front veranda where his father's body laid. He gently positioned the shrouded figure on the vehicle's tray then rode slowly back to the spot in the garden where his father's remains would be committed to the earth. He slid the body onto the ground beside the hole, as carefully as he was able, and climbed down into the cool, dark space. He slid his arms under his father's back, braced himself and, lifted him from the damp ground. With the body securely in his arms, he kneeled down and laid his father at the bottom of the grave. Wearily, Matt climbed out and diligently and began bury the man he loved. The man he had killed. Still there had been no tears.

Now Matt stood beside the burial plot with a large bunch of his mother's flowers clutched in his right hand. The rocks that had made digging so difficult were now placed on top of the grave in a tidy rectangular mound to mark the spot and ensure that the loose soil would not be washed away in a heavy downpour of rain. Matt bent over and placed the flowers neatly on top. He tried to think of something profound and meaningful to say but his mind was blank. Then, out of the blue, a memory came, like a piece of flotsam bobbing to the surface after a shipwreck. It was Christmas Day two years ago. The three of them had finished breakfast and mum was passing out gifts to Matt and his father. Without ceremony Matt's father suddenly handed him a clumsily wrapped gift, which was unusual because it was always his mother who distributed the presents on Christmas morning. He thanked him and unwrapped the gift to discover a triple-pack of woollen work socks. "Gee Dad, thanks. They're great," he had said, forcing a smile.

"That's okay son," his father replied, beaming. "They're the same ones I wear. They're really comfortable".

And that was that. Mum went back to handing out the gifts and the normal Christmas routine was resumed. It was only later that night that Matt realised how special that moment had been. His father - the tough, rugged, independent farmer - had gone into a store, chosen a gift, then wrapped it himself and given it to his son because he had thought that's what he would want. And his dad had been right- they were really comfortable socks. Matt smiled.

Then the tears came.

-

An hour later, after a shower and a change of clothes, Matt was back in the truck heading to Carswell with Elvis, where he hoped to find a survivor or two. He would need to pass through Millfield, which was not something he was particularly looking forward to, because he knew that the human remains littering the streets (and inside some houses, he supposed) would be decomposing and the smell would be bad. Despite his misgivings, however, he needed to reassure himself that there were no other survivors in town. He had no plans to stop in Millfield, though. He would cruise through the town slowly, make observations, and then drive to Carswell to see how the 'event' had impacted on the larger town.

Matt rolled through Millfield, with his windows wound up and the air conditioner pumping, and noticed that there was a relatively small number of fresh corpses. There had been less feeding last night, which made him wonder about the habits of the creatures. Would they just continue to feed on each other until their population was so small as to be unsustainable, or would they adapt, finding new food sources such as livestock or even vegetable crops? It was only common sense that any species of living thing could not feed just on itself without eventually becoming extinct, no matter how appealing that idea was to him.

Matt reached the eastern outskirts of Millfield and put his foot to the accelerator and was beginning to pick up speed when something in the front yard of a little white cottage caused him to slam his foot down on the brakes and stare incredulously through his side window. Surely, this had to be his tired mind playing tricks on him! He slowly opened his door and stepped out of the car, as Elvis leaped across the seat and ran, tail wagging furiously.

In the front yard of a modest house, in the sunshine of Millfield, a little girl was rocking back and forth on a swing.
Chapter 23

Others

Sally stood in the cool, dark bar, staring at the back of the man who had snubbed her just seconds ago. Her hand gripped the baseball bat tightly, and her heart was beating so fast that she could actually feel a vein throbbing in her right temple. The man in black took a swig from his beer bottle and casually turned to her. He smiled.

"Hi, can I get you drink?" he asked, holding out a hand in friendship. "I'm Dylan."

Sally's anger at being ignored dissolved instantly, along with her resolve. She dropped the baseball bat to the floor, stripped the bandanna from her face and ran forward, throwing her arms around him, as she burst into tears.

Dylan didn't return the hug but allowed Sally to embrace him. She released her grip and stood back wiping her eyes.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry ... it's ... just ... been ... I ... haven't ... seen any ... my mother ... I'm so ... sorry."

"Hey, relax," Dylan said. "It's fine. Sit down."

Sally sat on the stool beside him and stared at the brightly coloured bottles of alcohol on the shelves behind the bar as the sobs subsided. While she regained her composure, Dylan climbed from his stool, walked around behind the bar, and began mixing a drink from the bottles she'd just been staring at.

"I'm so embarrassed," she said, not looking at him. "I wanted to be strong. I have been strong. It's just that I was beginning to think I wouldn't find anybody. When you smiled I was just so ... I don't know ... relieved. You could have ... you might have been ... I need someone to help me." She paused, and waited for a response. When there was none, Sally asked, "What's happened to everybody?"

Dylan put a large orange cocktail on the counter in front of Sally. "One thing at a time," he said. "Drink this. It'll help. It's full of Vitamin C too. Good for you." He walked out from behind the bar and resumed his spot on the barstool. "What's your name?"

"Oh God! Sorry," She held out her hand. "I'm Sally. I'm just not with it. I'm so confused. Why has this happened? Do you know?"

Dylan handed her the drink. "You're still upset. Have a mouthful, take a deep breath and then we'll talk. There's stuff you need to know."

Sally took a big gulp.

"Hey, that's really good. Thanks. Are you a bartender or something?"

"Not any more," he replied. "Okay. Do you feel better?"

Sally nodded and took another pull from her cocktail.

"Let's here your story then. You've got me curious."

"I've been holed up in a little motel a couple of suburbs away," she began; glad to be able to finally share her story. "One of those creatures almost got me the first night. I've been more careful since then. I don't go out at night. Obviously. Hey, have you seen anybody else? I've been hearing lots of gunshots over the past couple of days."

Then, logic kicked in as Sally gazed at the gun lying on the bar in front of him. She looked at him. It made sense.

"Hey, is that you doing all the shooting?"

"Yeah, mostly, I guess. I've been pretty busy."

Sally looked at him more closely. He was younger and better looking than she originally thought. Under the black t-shirt his body was muscular, and she noticed that the tattoos on his arms were a complex collage of skulls, beautiful women and intertwined flowers. The thing that was most obvious about him, though, was how comfortable he seemed in this frightening new world. Sally had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, the qualities of strength, confidence and toughness would serve people well in surviving the horrors they now faced; but Sally had always valued sensitivity, intellectualism and creativity in men. She knew she was being unfair; she shouldn't be judging this man before she even had a chance to get to know him properly. Even though she was apprehensive about the answer she might receive, Sally plunged in.

"So what have you actually been shooting?"

Dylan looked at her incredulously, frowned, and then burst into rolling waves of laughter.

"Are you serious?" he guffawed. "That's hilarious."

Sally blushed and eventually the laughter subsided.

"What do you think I've been shooting? I've been shooting those fucking zombie motherfuckers!"

Suddenly his face became still, and he stared at a spot on the bar in front of him. "What am I shooting?" he muttered to himself. "Shit! What a question."

Sally didn't know what to say. She feared that she'd offended the man who might be one of the few people left who could help her. She held her breath, half-expecting him to get up and walk out of the bar, leaving her to face any future challenges alone. He surprised her, however, by stating matter-of-factly, "There are others, you know."

Her head snapped around and she grabbed his arm. "Are you kidding? Where?"

He looked down at her hand that was still clutched to his arm. "Did you think you were the only one?"

"No, of course not," she said, releasing her grip. "But I just haven't seen anybody until you. Well, except for that crazy guy who breaking windows and talking to himself, but that was days ago. Where is everybody?"

Dylan considered his response.

"Well, I think a lot of people have been hiding out; they won't even come out in the daytime. They're scared shitless, so they've barricaded themselves in their homes. The zombies will get them eventually though. Who can survive on their own forever?"

"I don't know. I was trying to. But they're not really zombies are they?"

It was a statement more than a question.

"No, not like in the movies anyway. I wish they were just zombies! They would be much easier to deal with than these ... freaks."

Sally looked at Dylan and almost pleaded, "Do you know what made everyone this way?"

"No. Nobody knows, but everybody at the church has a theory. That's a more popular topic for discussion now than the fucking weather."

Sally jumped from her stool and stood up.

"What do you mean "everybody at the church?""

"There's a group of people down at Saint Jude's on Celebration Boulevard. It's a dozen blocks away. They think they can start again. Build the world back up to how it was before. Dreamers. Anyway, at least it's pretty safe down there at the moment. I sleep there at night. They feed me. Most of the people are nice enough. Every day a few more come out of hiding and join the group."

"Jesus! How many are there?" Sally asked, trying to control her excitement.

"As of this morning there were fifty-two. But a few more people have probably turned up since I left. That's not the only place either. I've come across some other groups. One was in a school – that was quite a big group - bigger than ours anyway. Another about the same size as ours is occupying a warehouse over on Houston Street. Anywhere with a big fence or strong brick walls seems to work quite well. St Jude's has a very strong fence. Nothing's gotten through yet."

Sally took Dylan's hand. "Take me there."

"What about your stuff?"

"It's not important."

"No problem," he said. "Let's go."

-

As they walked down the corpse-strewn, tree-lined boulevard towards the church, Sally quizzed her new companion, and found out that since the event he had re-modelled himself as a kind of fanatical 'zombie' hunter. He stayed with the community at St Jude's during the night, and went out at first light searching for nests where the creatures slept, and then shot them through the head one after the other. Sally didn't say anything to him about it, but as far as she was concerned he was wasting his time. In a city of over two million creatures, what impact could one man with a shotgun have? She understood that his grisly preoccupation may simply be his way of trying to exercise some degree of control over an impossible situation, but there seemed to be something else driving him to spend his days slaughtering the beasts. She wondered what that motivation might be.

As they got closer to their destination Sally stopped in her tracks. "Do you hear that?"

"No. What is it?"

"It sounds like music."

"No, you must be hearing things," he said. "Let's go. We're almost there."

Sally was sure that she could hear faint music in the distance, and she was sure that Dylan could hear it too. She also had a feeling that it was a tune she knew. The melody floated in and out of range, frustrating Sally's attempt to recognise it, as they walked down the street.

"Are you sure you can't hear that?" she asked. "God, I know that song! What is it?"

Sally wasn't sure, but she thought Dylan might just have had the hint of smile on his face.

"You hear it too, don't you?" she pushed.

He took Sally by the hand and stopped walking. "Listen."

The music was a little louder now, as it was pushed towards them on the changing breeze, and then as if a switch had been flicked, the memories came flooding in as the melody and lyrics became crystal clear in the desolate city.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" she exclaimed, as she stood in Celebration Boulevard, surrounded by dismembered corpses and the flies that fed on them, "It's "Big Red Car! It's the Wiggles! It's the fucking Wiggles! Why?"

Dylan gripped her hand tighter and gave her an odd smile.

"We play it during the day to encourage the little kids to come out of hiding."

She looked up into his eyes with renewed respect. "Wow. That's amazing. Has it worked?"

His smile faded. "Not since the first day. Come on. Let's go meet everyone."
Chapter 24

Gabby

Matt tried to call Elvis back, as the dog ran towards the girl on the swing. He was concerned that he would leap on her out of sheer joy, and injure her, but he needn't have worried. As Elvis reached her, he stopped and sat, looking at the girl as if waiting for something. Matt climbed out of the car and watched as the girl stopped swinging and then went over to the statue-like dog and hugged him around the neck.

"Hello boy. What's your name?" she cooed. "I'm Gabby. Aren't you a beautiful boy?"

"His name's Elvis?" Matt said, smiling at the tiny figure before him. "He likes you."

She was wearing pink jeans and a yellow SpongeBob t-shirt. Her hair was long, sandy blonde and in need of a good brushing. Matt was totally confused as to how this girl had survived in the town since the rise of the feeders. Who had been looking after her?

"Where are your mummy and daddy honey?" he asked in his friendliest voice.

She turned away from Elvis and looked up at Matt. "Mummy's gone. Mrs Orton is looking after me 'til mummy comes home. My daddy is dead. I'm not allowed to talk about him."

"Where did mummy go sweetheart?" Matt asked, hoping that the girl would say she was in the house baking cookies. Instead, she said, "Sydney. She wants a new job. She says we might have to move. There's a McDonald's in Sydney."

Matt smiled. "There are lots of McDonalds in Sydney sweetheart. What about Mrs Orton? Where does she live?"

The girl pointed to the house next door. "She lives next to us but she's always asleep now."

As far as Matt was concerned this whole conversation was getting weirder by the minute. This girl had been left in the care of her neighbour, probably while her mother went to Sydney for a job interview. The babysitter, Mrs Orton was, in all likelihood, a feeder, yet this defenseless girl was alive and didn't even seem traumatised. Matt looked around the street and noticed that, unlike the rest of the town, there were no mutilated corpses visible anywhere. He studied the little girl more closely and tried again. "Who's looking after you honey? Where are they?"

She looked at Matt and smiled. "Silly! Nobody can look after me! They're all asleep. I have to look after myself. I'm six. I can make cornflakes you know, but the milk tastes funny now. I don't want it any more. Can you get me some new milk?"

"Of course I can. As soon as we see Mrs Orton." Matt needed to see inside the babysitter's house. "Gabby honey, can you show me where Mrs Orton's sleeping?"

"Just go in. She's under the bed. I think everyone likes under the bed now."

Matt didn't need to go inside and see Mrs Orton. He'd seen enough feeders now to know that she had become one. He still couldn't understand how this girl had been spared from their violence, however.

"Gabby, what happens at night time? Where do you go?"

The girl looked at Matt like he was stupid. "I go to bed silly. I'm not allowed to stay up late. There's no TV anyway. Do you know my mummy? Is she coming home soon?"

Matt knew that he couldn't leave the girl alone, so using his most authoritative voice, he said, "Sweetie, lots of people have gotten sick and that's why they're asleep. It's dangerous for you to be alone without grown-ups. I want you to come with Elvis and me until we find mummy, okay?"

"I guess so. Can you really find mummy?"

Matt kneeled down on the grass and took her gently by the shoulders. "Gabby honey, Elvis and I will help you look for your mummy as hard as we can. Until we find her, though, we can be like a little family, okay?"

She looked Matt in the eyes. "Sure. Can Elvis do tricks?"

-

Twenty minutes later they were on the road to Carswell. Gabby was in the passenger seat, so Elvis was relegated to the back of the truck. Matt was worried that the dog would freak out, but he seemed to be enjoying the wind blowing through his coat, as he hung over the edge with his mouth open. After Matt had made the decision to care for the girl he had taken her inside the house and packed an overnight bag with clean clothes, toiletries, snacks, a drink and a collection of her favourite toys. He was astonished by her positive frame of mind and wondered if she'd pushed some disturbing memories into her subconscious. He wasn't very experienced when it came to relating with small children, but Gabby seemed to have a directness that he liked. Her willingness to allow the teenager the take control of the situation was also making their unusual relationship easier for him to cope with. After he had checked the house to make sure that her mother wasn't hiding anywhere, he packed her things in the truck and they left for Carswell.

As they coasted down the deserted country road the unlikely couple chatted about ordinary things like favourite foods, movies and her friends at school. It was hard for Matt to pretend that Gabby might see her friends again, but he could see no point in telling her that everyone she had ever loved was lost forever. He didn't know anything about grief counselling, but it just felt right to protect her from as much of the horror as he could right now. Knowing the truth would take away the one hope she had of seeing her mother and there didn't seem to be any point in doing that just yet. When they ran out of things to talk about they played eye-spy, and when Gabby said "m" for "moo cows", Matt wondered if the animals would be a suitable source of sustenance for the feeders. Given the number of cattle farms in the area, he guessed that the creatures would survive for quite a long time if they ever developed a taste for raw beef.

Forty minutes into their journey Matt noticed that his little passenger was getting drowsy so he stopped the car, and covered her with a jacket, before suggesting that she have a little sleep. She smiled at Matt, closed her eyes and was sleeping before the ute was even up to full speed again. He was relieved when she nodded off because he didn't want her to bear witness to the gruesome sights they would encounter once they entered the city limits of Carswell. He didn't know what he would do when she woke up, but he figured he would deal with that issue when it arose. Matt looked down at the tiny figure napping peacefully beside him and the weirdest thought popped into his head. "She's a miracle!" he thought. He shook his head. Where had that come from? The kid had just got lucky, that was all. Against all odds she'd somehow managed to evade the feeders at night. He thought about the lack of corpses in her street. For some unknown reason, the creatures hadn't been very active in that part of town, and Gabby had survived simply as a statistical fluke. Maybe that was miracle enough.

The girl continued to doze as Matt rolled into the once picturesque town of Carswell. For one hundred and fifty years it had been a prosperous agricultural town, established as a hub for the local farming community. Over the last thirty years, however, it had fallen on hard economic times. Matt thought the town had been looking a little shabby and forlorn the last time he had visited, a few months ago, but the change that had come over the place in the last few days made it look like a scene from a Sam Raimi horror movie. If it was possible, the carnage here seemed to be even more extensive and brutal than the butchery that had occurred in Millfield. For a start, there were more corpses; but Matt had expected that because Carswell had a larger population. No. What shocked him here was the extra element of exuberance that was evident in the way the killings had been performed.

Matt looked at the girl to make sure she was still asleep before analysing the grim picture before him. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, but if he had to make a guess he would say that the feeders in this town had derived more enjoyment from their grisly handiwork. While all of the corpses showed the usual evidence of cannibalism, just as the Millfield victims had, there were some extra touches here that were truly disturbing. As he cruised through the streets he witnessed bodies that had been flung into trees and onto shop awnings. On one corner, a grossly overweight, naked man had been impaled on a stop sign, and on another street he saw a line of eleven severed heads staring sightlessly at him from behind the display window of a butcher shop. Then, as he got closer to the centre of town, he discovered a pile of charred corpses as high as his car, that were now fused together like a gruesome public sculpture.

Suddenly Matt needed to be out of this town. There was a crushing sense of evil in this place that he couldn't deal with. It wasn't just the wanton destruction and death that disturbed him - there was something in the atmosphere that was like a black, oily sludge that seemed to coat his mind, making him feel corrupted. He wanted to be back at the farm now more than he had wanted anything in his life. He felt that if he stayed here he would die. It was that simple. He turned the car around as Gabby made a little groaning noise in her sleep. Her jacket-blanket had slipped down during the drive so he reached over to pull it back over her tiny form, but when he looked back up at the road he had to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. Two figures were standing in the middle of the street pointing shotguns at his face. Gabby began to stir.
Chapter 25

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"It's late and almost everyone's asleep now. I'm so lucky I found Dylan so that he could bring me here. Everybody's been really nice to me. When I walked through the front gates a woman called Jo came over and gave me a big hug. It felt so good. She's kind of in charge along with a man called Mr Ash. He makes everyone call him Mr Ash too! He used to be a high school teacher, but he seems nice anyway (ha ha). She introduced me to a few other people my own age and took me to one end of the church, where there were beds set up for the girls - the boys and men have to sleep at the other end. There are no couples here (yet). Everybody has lost their entire families. It's such a sad, quiet place, but Jo and Mr Ash are trying to keep everyone's spirits up as much as they can._

_The church is bigger than it looks from the outside. There's a room where Jo has set up a little play area with books and toys for the younger kids. There's also a big kitchen at the back where they've collected loads of canned food and other things we need like clothes and medical stuff. I can see why they chose this building to "hole up" in. It's got a really tall metal fence around it that has spikes at the top. A plaque in the church says it was built in 1870 and its walls are blocks of really thick sandstone. A couple of the men have rigged up electricity from a generator so that we can have lights at night. They also have these huge portable lights with their own generators that shine onto the church fence at night. That seems to be keeping the creatures away (at the moment anyway)._

_After Jo showed me around she gave me some clean clothes to wear and I went to the bathroom and made myself a bit more presentable. Then she took me to the kitchen and made me some lunch while we talked. She used to be a lawyer before the event and was really rich and into the whole power-dressing, ladder-climbing thing. I can see how she would be good at that; she's a really tough, intelligent woman. Earlier when I came out of the bathroom I saw her on the other side of the church arguing with this other woman who was crying and really upset. By the time they finished, though, the woman gave Jo a hug and went off to her bed where she collapsed and continued to cry by herself. I might talk to her tomorrow. Maybe she needs a friend._

_As soon as Dylan introduced me to Jo he left the church and went straight back out to hunt "zombies" as he calls them. I wouldn't say that he enjoys it but he certainly seems to be driven to wipe them out (even though we all know that it's an impossible task). He said that I could go with him tomorrow if I wanted to. I think I will. Confession time. There is something about him that I find really intriguing. He's very good looking (and he knows it) but it's not the only thing that he's about. I think there's a secret there that he won't share with anyone. Secret or not, I wouldn't be upset if something happened between us. So I guess I'll go zombie hunting with him tomorrow._

_The rest of the afternoon I just wandered around meeting people and helping to get dinner ready. They're all scared like me and don't know what to do next. Most want to stay in the city. A group has actually been going out during the day with a truck and a backo? (whatever that is), cleaning up the corpses in the streets around the church. It's to stop disease and hopefully keep the rats away. They say that if we're going to be here for a while then we may as well start making the local area as liveable as possible. They're burying the dead in a big hole at the bottom of a building site somewhere. There are also teams of people who go out looking for supplies, survivors and other suitable places for people to live. Before dark everybody who'd been out came back to the church and gathered around a big long table for dinner (they took out the first five rows of pews). It was nice to have a proper meal again for a change and despite the nightmare we are living in, I felt like I had a family for just a little while. When Dylan sat next to me Jo looked over and winked. Is it that obvious? I thought I was playing it cool! Dylan, of course, was oblivious. He was too busy telling everyone about the "zombies". He said that he had a little problem with one of them today. He was in a supermarket freezer "cleaning up a nest" (as he calls it) when one of them attacked him. He said there were three of them, and after he shot the second one the last one woke up and snarled at him. He said the creature never really got near him but we don't know if he was just playing it down a bit so we wouldn't worry. He touched me on the leg and said we'd have to be careful tomorrow._

_Well it's late, the big lights are on outside and there are people watching the fence, so it's time for me to go to sleep. I wonder what tomorrow will bring._

_Oh, I almost forgot. A really sad thing happened this afternoon. At around three in the afternoon Mr Ash turned off "The Wiggles" music. I knew immediately what that meant. Everybody stopped what they were doing and listened, even the little kids. When the music didn't start again some of the woman started crying. I guess they were the ones who had children of their own until a few days ago._

_I hate this world._
_Chapter 26_

_Brock and Montana_

The larger of two bandits was yelling at Matt to get out of the car. The sudden jolt of the brakes had woken Gabby up, and she was looking up at Matt from the passenger seat with fear in her eyes. Matt had to make sure the next instructions he gave the girl were very simple and very specific. If he got this wrong she might die. He held his hand up to the bandits in the street in a "wait" gesture and said to Gabby, "Sweetie do exactly as I say right now. Climb on the floor and cover yourself with the jacket. Don't move until I come back, even if it takes a long time. Do it now! Don't worry honey, I'll be back for you."

"Okay Matt", she said, slinking obediently to the floor and hiding under his jacket.

As he climbed out of the car he whispered to her, "I'm locking the doors so you'll be safe."

Outside the taller figure with the shotgun was yelling again. "Get over here now before I blow your fucking head off!"

Matt closed the car door and held both arms up above his head. "It's okay. I'm cool. I don't want any trouble".

The big one seemed to be the spokesperson. "Shut the fuck up. I'll decide if you're cool or not. What are you doing in my town?"

His town? What a tool! "Sorry man, I was just passing through. I didn't know it was your town. I'll just get in my car and keep going okay? That's not a problem."

"No you fucking will not! You will stand there until I give you an instruction."

Matt quickly evaluated his foes. The wannabe tough guy, who was doing all of the talking, was average height but very overweight. He was wearing camouflage trousers and a black t-shirt with a picture of Darth Vader on the front. His shoulder length curly hair looked like it needed a wash, and Matt realised, without humour, that he had been captured by a nerd with issues. The other survivor was a girl. It was hard to be sure, but Matt thought she looked about the same age as him. She had peroxide blonde hair poking out from under a baseball cap, big gold sunglasses, heavy make-up and a pierced upper lip. She was wearing black tights under a skimpy pair of ripped denim shorts and a pink top with the word "Bitch" embroidered in sequins on the front. Most boys would have found her hot. Matt thought she looked ridiculous.

Lord Vader spoke. "What do you want? What are you doing here?"

Matt didn't really understand the question, but tried to give a response that wouldn't upset this obviously unbalanced person. "Um, I'm just looking for survivors. I was hoping there might be people here in Carswell. I thought maybe we could help each other."

"Why the fuck would I need your help. Do I look like I need help? Well, do I?"

Matt thought that he'd never seen anyone in his entire life that needed help more right now, but he didn't want to antagonise him. Gabby was his responsibility and he was willing to temporarily eat shit from this clown if that's what it took to keep her safe.

"No, I don't think you need help; I was just offering, that's all. You guys look like you've got everything under control. I can move on. No harm done and you can get on with ... whatever you want."

Lord Vader glanced at the blonde girl beside him, and at that moment Matt thought that he might have sensed some uncertainty in his body language. When the girl gave a little shrug of her shoulders he realised that she was just a follower and had no idea what she'd gotten herself into. Even though Matt realised that he'd discovered two survivors who were doing little more than playing "soldier", he knew that they could pose be danger to him and Gabby. People with low self-esteem, high stress levels and loaded guns were not to be treated lightly. Despite that though, Matt decided to push it just a little, to see where he stood. "How about it, buddy? I'll just get in my car and leave you guys alone, what do you say?"

"Don't try and suck up to me you prick. I'm not your buddy. I'm in charge here, in case you didn't notice. I'll say what you can and can't do. Tell me where you came from!"

"I came from Millfield this morning."

"Oh really?" The fat man asked sarcastically, and then paused as if considering his next question. Finally he asked, "What's it like?" Matt thought that he might have been struggling a little to maintain the tough guy image.

"Well, it's the same as here really," he replied. "Dead people everywhere and the ones that aren't dead have gone crazy or something. I'm the only one left I think." He didn't mention Gabby who was still lying on the floor of the car. "Everyone in Millfield has changed into those feeders. It's a nightmare."

The fat man looked at him, "Feeders? Yeah that's a good name for them. They're not zombies. Feeders. Yeah."

Unexpectedly the girl lowered her gun and spoke for the first time, "Jesus Christ Brock, I can't hold this thing up forever! Stop being a dickhead and let him go! You're not going to shoot him for chrissake!"

Suddenly Brock lost his cool and started screaming, "Shut the fuck up you little slut, this is my game. Farmer Joe here is going to do whatever I tell him to. Now start walking!" He waved his gun in the direction of a brick building across the street and motioned for Matt to get moving.

All of a sudden "Blondie" let loose a high-pitched squeal, causing both men to spin around to see what was wrong. She was literally jumping up and down on the spot.

"Oh my god! He's so cute! What's his name?" Matt realised she'd spotted Elvis who'd been sitting patiently in the back of the truck.

When he told her the dog's name she immediately started to call him as she headed over towards the car. Matt knew that he needed to keep the girl away from Gabby so he called Elvis who jumped from the tray of the vehicle and ran straight to him. The girl went over to Elvis and hugged him. "Hello boy! You're a good boy Elvis, aren't you? Good dog. Can we keep him Brock?"

Brock rolled his eyes at the girl. "Sure. Whatever. What do I care? If it'll make you happy." He pointed the gun at Matt again. "You! Get away from the mutt and start walking before I use this fucking thing to put a hole in your head!"

Lord Vader, formerly known as Brock, directed Matt at gunpoint into a building that was clearly an old, disused bank. Matt studied it and realised that they'd actually picked a pretty good fortress from which to defend themselves from the feeders. The front door was solid steel and the small windows at the front had thick steel bars bolted to them. He couldn't see what was at the back of the building, but he assumed that it was equally as fortified. They went inside. Internal stairs led to an upper storey. Brock took Matt to the back corner of the room and sat him down on the floor while keeping the gun aimed at him. Matt looked over at the girl who was now sitting on a bed (one of two singles, Matted noted with interest) playing happily with Elvis. She'd removed her sunglasses and baseball cap and he could see that she was a very attractive girl, despite the trashy shopping mall outfit. She would have been one of the more popular girls in school, he guessed, and now the only companion she had was a highly-strung, socially awkward lard-ass who had no practical skills, no charisma and no idea.

Without taking his eyes off Matt, Brock called to the girl, "Montana, get over here with the handcuffs."

She stopped playing with Elvis, picked up a pair of police-issue restraints from a shelf near her head and hurled them at the pudgy kidnapper who had to duck to avoid being struck in the head.

"You fucking bitch!" he yelled as he picked up the cuffs from the floor angrily. Montana tried to hide her smile. He tethered one cuff to Matt's wrist and the other to an ancient oil heater that was attached solidly to the brick wall. Matt leaned back and waited for the next installment in this pointless but deadly farce. Brock went over and lay on the second single bed. Montana was lying on her bed with Elvis by her side, ignoring her partner in crime. They looked like a couple of bored teenagers, hanging around with nothing better to do. Matt noticed dozens of melted candle stubs littering the room. These morons didn't even have enough common sense to go and find a generator to give themselves some electricity! The empty chip packets and soft drink bottles spoke for themselves. The world, as they knew it had ended, yet all these two could find to do was hang out eating junk food and playing gangsters. He shook his head.

Even though Matt was shackled and couldn't move, he felt safer now than he had when he first encountered his captors. He knew that if this loser were going to kill him, he probably would have done it out on the street earlier. On the other hand, Matt had more than himself to worry about. Gabby was (hopefully) still out in his truck and if Matt couldn't get out of this situation in the next couple of hours he would have to tell Brock about the girl, and hope that he would be allowed to bring her inside before it got dark and the feeders came out. That wasn't Matt's first option, though. He would much rather get out of here with Gabby, and get back to Millfield; because despite feeling relatively safe at the moment, he was worried about Brock's stability. The big man was obviously well out of his depth and probably only took Matt hostage in a pathetic attempt to impress the feisty Montana. Men with infatuations were prone to irrational behaviour, and without the constraints of civilised society, they might be capable of anything. Matt leaned his head back against the cool brick wall, closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of this mess. Within minutes he was dozing restlessly.
Chapter 27

The Multitude

Sally was woken by a warm, soft hand gently caressing her back. She smiled and turned over.

"That's nice," she purred.

Then she realised it wasn't a dream, and quickly sat up in her bed with a start.

"Who's that?"

"Shhh ... it's me, Dylan."

Sally looked around the dark church and saw that almost everybody was still asleep. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at Dylan who was sitting on the edge of her bed dressed in his usual black. "God, what time is it?" she whispered.

"It's 5:30. Get up, I want to show you something."

"What's wrong? It's the middle of the night."

"No it's not," he replied with a smile. "Come on, get dressed. I'll meet you out the front." And with that, he left.

She had pulled on some clothes and went to the front of the church where Dylan was waiting on the steps.

"I was having a lovely sleep, until you ruined it."

"I could tell. Who was he?"

"How long were you watching me?" she asked, as her cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

"Long enough to tell that you've got a thing for a boy somewhere."

"Alright, that's enough," she said, trying to change the subject. "What have you got me out here for anyway?"

"I want you to see this so you'll know what we're up against when you come out with me today."

He took Sally by the hand and led her through the big arched door and into the front garden of the church. The only sound was the hum of the generators as they powered the arc lights that had been set up inside the fence. Beside each light a man or woman with a weapon was standing guard. The front of the church had been built facing straight down Celebration Boulevard so that the church would be the first thing you saw as soon as you entered the grand street. The lights were effective, and threw a small ocean of brilliance out into the darkness, making the whole scene look ghostly and surreal. Objects that were close stood out in high definition, like a permanent flash photograph, but further down the street it was as if a huge black curtain had been lowered. Dylan leaned closer to Sally and pointed into the darkness. "Check it out."

Sally peered into the distance, but shook her head. "I can't see anything. What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look into the dark. Once you see it, you'll know what it is."

Sally squinted her eyes. "No. All I can see is ... oh my god! Are they ...?"

"Yeah. Pretty insane huh?"

In the darkness, just beyond the light, stood a wall of the creatures. They were stared at the church, and if it weren't for the occasional movement as one jostled another Sally didn't think she would be able see them at all.

"How many are there?"

"We can't be sure. Maybe thousands."

Sally was horrified. She knew that the human population was well and truly dwarfed by these zombie-like creatures, but she never really understood what that meant in sheer weight of numbers. The church, which had felt so secure when she first arrived, now seemed like a tiny island surrounded by a tide that was rising every day.

"Do they try to get in?" she asked, worried now.

"Not since we set the lights up. The first night was terrible. There were only a few of us and we locked ourselves in here before dark, but as soon as the sun went down they came from everywhere. A lot of them turned on each other, but most of them swarmed around the fence. Quite a few tried to climb over, but it's not a very easy task, so only two of them were able to make it to the top. Luckily a couple of us had guns, so we shot them. We had to stand guard all night. The next day we went out and got the lights. I think we'd be in trouble without them."

Sally shuddered, as she imagined the lights going out. "How long will they stay out there?"

"You're about to find out. Look." He pointed to the east where Sally could see the slightest pink tinge to the sky. "As soon as the sky starts to lighten up a bit they get moving. They don't all go at once though. Some seem to be braver than the others and leave it until the last minute."

Sally looked at the creatures, now slightly more visible in the improving light, and sure enough; some were already creeping off into the dark, deserted streets.

"In fifteen minutes they'll all be gone." Dylan stated as he walked her back inside to help begin preparing breakfast.

At the breakfast table peopled talked about the jobs that needed to be done for the day ahead. Dylan wasn't the only one systematically exterminating the creatures; there were two other groups going about the same grisly task in designated areas. When a team cleaned out a building, they would mark the front of it with a big pink, spray-painted symbol - "NZSJ", which meant "No Zombies. St Jude's". It was to save other groups of exterminators from wasting time searching in places that had already been cleared. It was also a signal for the second part of the clean-up team, who would eventually arrive and remove the bodies. Sally was amazed that this tiny band of survivors was prepared to take on such an overwhelming task, but she realised that these people loved their city just as much as she did and weren't prepared to surrender to these violent monsters. They argued that if all of the groups like theirs around the city joined in and did their part, then one day they might be able to rebuild their little part of the world into a safe and productive community.

There were other crews too. People in the church were rostered to clean, cook, wash clothes, look after smaller children or scavenge in deserted shops for supplies. As they talked through their chores for the day, Sally noticed two distinct types within the group. One group was talkative, active and wanted to get things done, despite the horrors they had lived through, while the other was struggling with their grief. They barely spoke, didn't want to eat, and spent most of the day lying on their beds. Looking at them, Sally wondered how many survivors around the city had committed suicide in the days after the event.

Not all of the survivors in this big city, however, were interested in the common good. Sally learned from her breakfast companions that since the event, some of the groups were more like criminal gangs in the way they behaved. It seemed that, just like in the old world, bad people gravitated towards each other. The people at St Jude's had dubbed these 'marauders' and warned Sally to be on the lookout while she was out with Dylan during the day. While their numbers were smaller, they compensated by the rage they displayed. Mr Ash described them as psychotic dogs who had been let off their leash. Another man at the table told of how a pair of marauders had ambushed him and two female travelling companions. After beating him almost unconscious and leaving him for dead, they shot the older of the two women and carried the other one away with them. He never saw her again. The evidence of this man's ordeal was documented clearly in the bruises and swelling on his face. Those marks would eventually fade, but Sally doubted the haunted look in his eyes would.

After breakfast, when the sun had risen, Sally and Dylan headed out into the streets. As they passed through the front gates of the church an armed man, who was sitting in a fold-up picnic chair, recorded their names and their planned time of return in a large book. Every human life at St Jude's was precious now and he wished them luck as they returned to the realm of the night feeders.

Dylan had equipped Sally with a strong flashlight, a small automatic pistol (which was only to be used in an emergency), and a can of pink spray paint. He gave her a quick lesson with the firearm once they were in an isolated spot away from the church, but was very clear that for today she was an observer only, which was fine with her. She was more than satisfied to leave the killing to him. In fact, she was pretty terrified about the whole experience. Yesterday when she had said yes to this adventure, it seemed abstract and manageable. In the cold light of day, however, she was beginning to regret the whole idea. After all, these creatures that Dylan would be executing were once people. How would she feel, for example, if they needed to exterminate a pregnant woman? She tried to put these thoughts out of her mind as they walked side by sided through the empty city streets.

Dylan tried to prepare her for the tough day ahead by giving her as much information as she could handle. "Did you notice anything about that group of zombies outside the fence this morning?" he asked.

"Just that they freaked me out. Why?"

"How would you describe them, as a demographic group?"

"What do you mean, like age and gender?"

"Exactly. Anything jump out at you?"

She tried to visualise the group of creatures that had been hovering on the edge of the light just a couple of hours ago. "No, I can't think of anything in particular. What about them?"

"Well, we've been studying them and it seems like they're almost all young and healthy. Mostly male too."

"What's the relevance of that? Isn't it just because all of the older, slower ones were killed in the first couple of days?"

Matt looked at her. "Yeah, we said that too, but we think there's something else. We think they might be developing some kind of social structure. The stronger ones are putting themselves into more danger. They're taking charge. Becoming leaders maybe? They just seem to be drifting into it like it's natural. Anyway, it's just a theory. It's too early to tell I suppose."

Sally told Dylan about the pack behaviour she'd noticed in the group below her balcony a couple of nights earlier.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "Let's hope we're wrong. If these things get organised, we'll have some real problems."

Then, without fanfare, Dylan stopped and pointed to a plain looking, office block.

"Here we are," he said. "Let's kill some zombies."
Chapter 28

Prisoners

Matt awoke from his shallow sleep to find Elvis licking his face. He went to hug the dog, but realised his arm was still shackled to the heater. Damn! He'd forgotten where he was for a moment. "Good boy Elvis. Sit." he whispered, as he tried to assess his situation.

Outside the shadows were lengthening, but he didn't think he'd been asleep for much longer than half an hour or so. Brock was sprawled across his narrow bed, snoring loudly. His t-shirt had ridden up and Matt could see his fat, pale stomach rising and falling with each laboured breath. He glanced at Montana and saw that she was looking at him over the top of a tawdry gossip magazine. Her gaze quickly returned to the article she had been pretending to read, once she noticed him, however. Matt quickly weighed up his options and realised that the easily led Montana might be his only hope in this potentially deadly situation. So quietly, so as not to awaken the sleeping Brock, he whispered to her across the room, "Hey. Montana."

She didn't look up from her magazine, and even though she was attempting to ignore him, Matt could tell that she was interested. Brock might have her under his evil influence for the moment, but it was obvious that it wouldn't last once she met other, more agreeable, post-apocalypse companions like himself.

Another attempt. "Montana. How are you? Are you okay?"

She glanced at the sleeping Brock and hissed across the room, "I'm not supposed to talk to you! Brock will be pissed. Leave me alone".

"Hey. I'm sorry, okay. I don't want to get you into trouble," Matt replied in his quietest voice, realising immediately that Montana would be a pushover if he handled her properly.

"My name's Matt. My family's gone. Yours?" She glanced nervously again at the big sleeping man and answered sarcastically, "What do you think, genius?"

Despite her surliness, Matt had to keep her talking because he understood that she was only trying to put up a tough facade when, in fact, she would be suffering inside just as much as he was. He spoke to her.

"I really miss my parents," he continued. "I could use a friend. Someone nice, I mean. I don't think I could be friends with him." Matt motioned with his head towards Brock.

"He saved me from those creatures," she said.

Although Matt struggled with the vision of Brock as a knight in shining armour, it was clear that this girl had developed an allegiance to him. Now Matt was going to do everything in his power to break that faithfulness.

"Of course," he agreed. "He's trying really hard. I'm sure he's doing the best he can, but maybe he's a little out his depth? Have you talked about how he is going to look after you in the future?"

She looked at Matt and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what's his long-term plan? How long do you intend to stay here? You don't even have electricity."

She whispered back, "Nobody has electricity. It's off everywhere."

"I have electricity."

That really got her attention, and she went over to Matt, tiptoeing past the snoring figure of Brock. She knelt down beside him and Matt could smell her cheap perfume, which for some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, found touching and thought he thought he was going to cry again. The world was in ruins, but this girl needed to appeal to somebody, even if it was only the hapless Brock.

"How can you have electricity? " she murmured.

"I live on a farm near Millfield," he said, putting his emotions to one side. "We have our own generator. I have a fridge, TV, electric lights, hot running water, everything. You and Brock should come back with me before it gets dark."

Montana looked over at Brock. "I don't think he'd come. He's fucking crazy. I think he's been ... playing around with some of those bodies out there. I think he's actually enjoying this nightmare. He told me he loves me, for chrissake! I think if I tried to leave he'd go nuts. I'm only with him 'cause there's no one else left."

Matt could see tears welling up in the girl's eyes. He had to convince her to come with him immediately, or Brock would wake up and it would be too late. He decided to go for it and tell her everything. "Montana, listen to me. I can look after you. You don't need this guy. He's bad news. We can get in my car and go back to Millfield right now. Tonight you can have a nice warm shower and a proper meal, not just junk food. You can help me look after Elvis."

The girl was listening intently and Matt knew he almost had her. In the background Brock mumbled something about monsters, farted and resumed his snoring. Matt decided to risk it all and tell her everything.

"Montana, this isn't just about you and me. There's somebody else. A little girl I brought here with me; she's in my car now. If I don't get back to her before dark those feeders will get her and it will be all our fault."

"What?" she exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? Why didn't you say? Is she okay? You can't leave her out there! We have to get her out of here! We can't let those things get her!" Then she remembered Brock and her face darkened. "What about him?" she asked, pointing to the bed.

Matt didn't want anything to do with the unhinged corpse-molester, so he took a chance. "What do _you_ think we should do?" he asked her.

The girl paused and looked across at the obese figure before returning her gaze to Matt. "Fuck him!" she hissed. "Let's get out of here."

Matt's relief was overwhelming, and if his hands weren't secured he would have hugged her. "Good girl. Get these cuffs off me and let's get going, but don't wake him up."

Montana nodded happily, and went to find the keys, but it was obvious that she didn't know where they were. She looked at Matt and shrugged her shoulders. Where were they? Matt tried to think! What had Brock done with them? He tried to play the scene back in his mind after his hands had been restrained. What had that freak done with the keys? Matt had nothing. He looked at Montana frantically and shook his head. He motioned for her to keep looking while he searched his memory for a clue. He closed his eyes to help him think. Brock had sat him in the corner before Montana had thrown the cuffs at his head. Then the fat man had bound him to the heater ... Shit! Had Matt seen Brock with a key? He didn't think so. That was why there was no key! The cuffs were open before they had been secured onto his wrists. Brock hadn't needed a key to lock them! They could be anywhere. Matt's hopes of getting out of the room before dark seemed hopeless.

Montana continued to search the room while Matt desperately considered his options. If Brock woke up now, they would be trapped here until night fell and Gabby would almost certainly die brutally at the hands of the feeders. They had to try something. Maybe Matt could talk Montana into knocking the kidnapper unconscious while he slept, giving them more time to search for the key. But what if she hit him too hard and killed him? They might never find the key, and by the time he finally escaped from the handcuffs it would be dark anyway. And if she didn't hit him hard enough and he wasn't knocked out, he would wake up angrier than ever and maybe kill them both. He needed a plan, and suddenly the plan came to him. He called Montana over.

"I can't find it!" she whispered hysterically.

"Don't worry about it. I have another idea, but you need to do exactly as I say. This might be our only chance. Be strong and follow my lead."

He looked into her eyes and tried to judge whether she was capable of performing the difficult task he had planned for her. All he saw in that pretty face was anxiety and doubt, but he had to trust her to get this right. It was their only shot. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. Outside the afternoon was getting darker.
Chapter 29

The Hunt

As Sally stood in the foyer of the seemingly deserted office building, she could feel her heart beating like a drum. Dylan was methodically surveying the layout of the place and didn't appear nervous at all.

"How many of these things have you shot?" she asked, not really sure that she wanted to know the answer.

"Not enough," he replied bitterly. "It looks safe enough now, but don't take anything for granted. I haven't seen any of these crazies come out in the daylight yet, but that doesn't mean it will never happen. I usually do a sweep from the top floors first, because that's where it's brightest. I haven't found any zombies in any of those floors yet, but I don't want to miss any, so I check anyway."

"What will I do if you find a nest here?" Sally asked nervously.

"Nothing. Just follow my lead. I've brought you with me because I can see strength in you that most of the others don't have. If I can train somebody to help me wipe these freaks off the face of the earth, then I'll be satisfied, but I don't want anyone else to get hurt." He gazed into Sally's eyes. "Especially people I really like. So for today, I just need you to stay out of the way. Up until yesterday, killing them was like shooting fish in a barrel. They'd just lie there. But I think their behaviour's changing."

"Tell me about yesterday. I want to know."

He thought about it briefly then replied, "Well, basically I think they're becoming more aware of their surroundings. Yesterday after I shot the first one, another one woke up and attacked me. It was like a reflex action, though, like a really primitive defense mechanism. I'm not even sure they were actually conscious in any real sense, but it definitely means we have to be much more careful from now on."

He put his right hand on Sally's shoulder. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She thought about the creature that had stared her down when she was on her balcony two nights earlier. "I'm sure. Let's go."

As they worked their way down from the top floor, Dylan offered safety instructions, the main being to pay attention and not relax. Sally found it a peculiar experience strolling through the abandoned office building in this weird, new world. The computers, paper work and filing systems that once controlled people's lives were now nothing more than relics, consigned to become nothing more than a footnote in the history of human civilisation. Sally wondered what the city would look like in one hundred years, or one thousand. She wondered if future humans would find her city as mysterious as she found the pyramids. They walked on.

As Dylan had predicted, the upper floors had been empty of hiders, and it didn't take them long to reach the ground floor again. Sally knew, however, that the worst was yet to come, as they headed to the staircase that would take them to the basement car park levels of the building. Dylan told her that it was always a different experience cleaning out these areas, depending on the building. Some were completely abandoned while others housed nests of up to thirty comatose bodies. On the first day it had just been a matter of putting a bullet in the head of each zombie systematically, as they lay in a state of hibernation, but after yesterday's attack it was clear that a big nest would be beyond his capabilities now. If they located a pod of more than four or five creatures, he would leave them for a larger team to clean up on another day.

Before they headed down the stairs to the basement, Dylan flicked on the flashlight that was taped to his gun and told Sally to switch hers on too. As they crept down the stairs he told her to keep at least five paces behind him and to yell if she saw anything out of the ordinary. The further they descended the more frightened Sally became. Their flashlights only illuminated one small area of the gloomy space at a time, and the long, shifting shadows that were being thrown onto the concrete walls created an eerie, threatening environment. She looked to Dylan for some reassurance, but he continued walking, shining his beam into every possible hiding space, including the windows of parked cars and dumpsters. After Dylan had satisfied himself that this particular floor was not a home for the creatures, he called Sally closer to him.

"Is it empty? Can we go now?" she asked hopefully.

He smiled gently, sensing her apprehensiveness, and answered, "No, not yet. There's another basement level below this one."

He shone his flashlight towards the down ramp and took her hand gently.

"Maybe you should sit this one out. I can take you back up to the street and I can finish this search on my own. No big deal."

But Sally knew it _was_ a big deal. This tough, resilient man had trusted her enough to invite her along on this monster hunt, and despite the knot of fear that was sitting in her stomach like a chunk of broken glass, she knew that she had to see it through. She understood that this was a test, and if she failed Dylan would probably become just another person at St Jude's who would nod to her across the breakfast table each morning; and suddenly, just like that, she realised that she wanted more than just friendship from him. She wanted a lover.

"No. I want to stay with you," she said. "I want to help. I'm really, really scared, but I want to stay with you so that I can learn how to survive." She looked at him, wondering how he would respond to her plea.

"Are you sure? Now's the time to pull out if you're not up for it."

She considered her decision. "No. I'm totally up for it. Just tell me what to do."

He smiled. "Sure. Let's get going".

As they headed down the ramp into the sub-basement Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out two pairs of earplugs. "If we find a nest we'll need these. Gunshots echo in here like you wouldn't believe. I found that out the first day. My ears are still ringing."

Sally took the earplugs and put them in her pocket as they headed into the darkest corner of the car park.

It turned out to be a small nest they found. Four bodies huddled together in an alcove behind a large concrete pillar. Sally couldn't move. These were the first zombies she'd seen in their sleeping state. It was almost too bizarre for her to comprehend. Three men and a woman dressed for a day at the office, apart from the grime and blood that covered them from head to toe. They seemed paler than they should be, and there was a roughness to their skin that looked very unlike that of a normal person. They didn't look as if they were asleep, though; they looked different somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, but she felt like she was looking at new state of being. Possibly somewhere between being asleep and being dead.

"Look what they've done." Dylan said, shining the flashlight onto the floor where the creatures slept.

Instead of unforgiving, cold concrete, they slumbered on a bed of broken and flattened cardboard boxes. Sally looked at Dylan, "Have you seen that before?"

"No. That's new," he replied. "And scary. Let's do this and get out of here. If we get split up just head out the way we came in. I want you to go back over near the down ramp and wait for me. There should only be four shots – one for each of them. Keep your flashlight on. If you hear less than four shots or anything else that sounds wrong, just get the hell out of here. Don't wait for me. Do you understand? This is not a game. Make sure you follow my instructions, okay?"

Sally nodded her head and said, "Please be careful". Then she turned her back on him and went to wait by the ramp.

Sally couldn't see what was happening after Dylan disappeared behind the delivery van but she could hear metallic clicking noises that she assumed were related to Dylan preparing his gun for shooting. Remembering her earplugs, she quickly fished them from her pocket and jammed them into her ears just before the first shot rang out. The noise was deafening, and she felt buried in sound as first one, and then two blasts rocked the concrete bunker. There was a slight pause, and then she heard the third shot ring out and echo chaotically around in the car park. She stood unmoving, waiting for the fourth shot, desperate for Dylan to return and take her back into the daylight, but there was only silence. Where was the fourth shot? Sally ripped the earplugs from her ears and was gripped by fear as she realised she could hear scuffling sounds coming from behind the van. Time seemed to stand still as she frantically shone her flashlight toward the vehicle. She saw only shifting shadows. Then there was a muffled scream; more sounds of struggling, and the fourth, overwhelmingly loud gunshot, followed immediately by the sound of something wet sloshing onto the concrete floor.

Sally froze, and dropped her flashlight, feeling as if her whole future hung in the balance for that split second. Then, just as she was about to scream Dylan's name, a spectral figure lurched from behind the van and rushed towards her, as she stood rooted to the spot by a deep, almost prehistoric fear. As the dark figure got closer she threw her arms up in front of her face, then realised with relief that it was Dylan. "Quick! Pick up your flashlight!" he yelled. "We have to get out of here! There are others!"

Sally could see that he'd been injured, as an occasional silvery spot of blood hit the floor and mingled with the engine oil that had dripped from the parked cars, but she managed to locate the flashlight. She grabbed Dylan by the hand and led him as fast as she could toward the upper level of the car park. She didn't know where the blood was coming from, but there was no time to worry about that now.

"Quick!" Dylan urged. "I can hear them!"

Sally could hear them too, and the adrenaline coursing through her body drove her forward, away from them as fast as she could move. She reached the upper level of the basement, out of breath from exertion and terror, and allowed herself to think they were going to make it. She couldn't hear the creatures behind her anymore, and ahead she could see faint daylight spilling down the stairwell from the foyer. She turned and smiled at Dylan, "We're nearly there, look."

He nodded, grimacing.

Then two hiders burst out from behind a large, air-conditioning conduit near the exit and their escape route was cut off.

"Where's your gun?" she shouted frantically, as Dylan looked at her, eyes full of fear, shaking his head.

"Fuck!" she screamed, as the zombies came at them.
Chapter 30

A Plan

"Hey fat boy! Wake up and get these cuffs off me!"

The corpulent figure of Brock, who had been snoring happily, jerked out of his slumber and sat up as quickly as his pudgy frame allowed.

"What? What?" he blurted, still befuddled. Then he saw what was happening. "You motherfucker!" he shrieked. "What do you think you're doing? Are you stupid?"

Matt could tell that this insane, fat man wanted to come over and beat him badly for this unexpected sign of rebelliousness, but Matt just smiled and pointed at Montana, who was sitting calmly on her bed pointing a shotgun at him. Brock swung around in her direction, "Montana! What the fuck? Don't point that thing at me. Are you fucking stupid?"

"Sit down!" Matt ordered. "Now!"

"The fuck I will! Who the fuck do you think you are?" Brock bellowed, as his face turned red with rage.

"Shoot him Montana," Matt ordered calmly.

She aimed the gun at Brock's crimson, acne-scarred face and cocked the hammer. The anger in his face quickly turned to fear as he realised he had been outsmarted.

"Wait! Wait!" he screamed. "Don't shoot! I'll sit down! Fuck, what is wrong with you two?"

Brock flopped down onto the single bed as he glowered at his betrayer. "Montana?" he pleaded.

She didn't move. The gun was still trained squarely on his face, which was now sweating profusely.

Matt spoke. "Brock! Forget her. You need to listen to me, okay? Don't say a fucking word until I'm finished. Okay?"

The fat man nodded his head.

"Good. Now listen. Montana and I are leaving. This place is very bad, and I also happen to think that Montana needs someone better than you. So I'm taking her back to Millfield with me and she's happy with that. But, if you want to come with us, that's fine too, only I'll be in charge. If you do come, you'll have to change your ways and work. There's no free ride for anyone anymore. I don't particularly like you, but in this new situation we're all in, people are going to have to help each other. So it will be your choice."

Brock started to speak, but Matt cut him off.

"Shut up! I haven't finished. Listen! Whatever your decision is, you're going to let me out of these handcuffs when I say so, and then you're going to go back and sit on your bed. If you try anything silly, Montana will shoot you, and that won't really bother either of us. It's going to be hard enough to survive these feeders without having to worry about you as well." Matt paused and turned to Montana. "Don't hesitate. If he tries anything, shoot him. We don't need him."

Montana nodded and smiled, "No problem."

"Okay Brock," Matt asked, "What's it going to be? Start a new life with us in Millfield or stay here and try to survive on your own?"

Matt honestly had no clue as to how this half-assed kidnapper would answer, because his behaviour was so erratic. Brock sat on the bed silently, with his pudgy hands balled up into fat greasy fists. When he answered it was with barely controlled rage through clenched teeth.

"You think I want to come with you? Fuck you! You think you're so fucking great, don't you? Coming into my town and stealing my girl! You can fuck off to Millfield and take that slut with you. I hope those feeders kill you before you get home, you cunt!"

"Okay," Matt replied, trying to maintain his cool, despite his heart hammering his ribcage like there was a monkey playing a drum in there. "That's good. You've made your choice. Now I need you to get the key for these cuffs so that we can leave."

Brock stood up and awkwardly stuffed his hand into the front pocket of his jeans to retrieve the tiny key. Matt needed him to stay cool so he continued giving him calm, simple instructions. "Good. You've got the key. Now come over here and release me, then we'll get out of your hair and you can get on with things. But don't forget! Montana will shoot you if she has to. I don't think she'd enjoy it, but I reckon she'd do it."

The big man went over to Matt and released him as requested. Then he walked back over and sat on the bed, glaring furiously at his betrayers. Matt stood up and stretched, trying to get the kinks out of his back from sitting cuffed to the heater for so long.

"Now Montana and I are getting out of this town. You will not leave this room until you can't hear my car any more. If I see you in my rearview mirror, I will come back and shoot you myself. Okay?"

"Fuck you!" barked Brock, before slumping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"Okay Montana, grab your bag and let's get going."

She handed the shotgun to Matt, who kept it trained on the prostrate, and somewhat tragic, figure of Brock, who was sulking like a big deranged baby. She went quickly around the room, gathering a few possessions, and after she'd stuffed them into her bag, came over and stood by Matt. Together they backed out of the room, then turned and headed to Matt's truck as quickly as they could. Brock didn't try to follow them.

As they approached the truck, Matt was almost frantic with anxiety. What if Gabby wasn't in the car? It had been almost two hours now, and she was only a child. Would she have run away? He honestly didn't know. Matt got to the car with Montana close behind, and hurriedly unlocked the passenger's door and there she was, curled up on the floor, sound asleep under his jacket, just as he left her. He leaned down and shook her gently.

"Gabby. It's Matt. Wake up honey. It's time to go home."

She looked up at him with red, tired eyes through her scruffy blonde hair. "Hi Matt. I went to sleep. You were gone a long time. Did you find my mummy?"

"Sorry sweetheart. Not today. We'll keep looking though. This is Montana. She's my friend. Climb up in the middle so she can get in."

Gabby did as she was asked and Montana climbed in beside her, throwing her bag on the floor and smiling at her new companion. Matt lifted Elvis up into the back of the truck, then raced around to the driver's door and climbed in. He turned the car around, put his foot to the floor and gunned out of Carswell with his two new travelling partners. He looked at the sky and even though it was darkening slightly as the afternoon encroached, he thought they would still be able make it back to the farm before it got dark. Matt took a deep breath. Today had been an ordeal that could have turned out much worse, but they were all safe and heading home. As he zoomed past the corpses scattered on the road here and there, he noticed that Montana had taken a children's book out of her bag and was distracting Gabby with it so she wouldn't see the horrors around them. He smiled at her and made a silent vow that he would never set foot in this godforsaken town again.
Chapter 31

Under Attack

Dylan and Sally stood arm in arm in the cold basement car park as the two bloodthirsty creatures charged at them. Their exit via the foyer stairwell was cut off and now they could hear the footsteps of the other creature from the lower level as it ran up the ramp. Sally wouldn't have time get the pistol out of her backpack so they both looked frantically around the empty concrete structure for a way to escape into the daylight. 'This is the end', Sally thought, as she contemplated the terror of being eaten alive by these crazed hiders. Suddenly Dylan grabbed Sally's arm and pointed to a corner of the car park. "Look!"

"Let's go!" Sally responded, realising that it was their only chance at survival.

A small office-supplies truck that Dylan had checked earlier for sleeping zombies was parked by a goods lift with its back roller door open. They ran towards it as fast as they could, despite Dylan's injured leg slowing them down. She could hear the creatures converging on them, their feet slapping rhythmically on the concrete floor as they ran. Sally reached the open truck first and leaped up into the cargo space. She turned and grabbed Dylan's wrist, helping him up into the truck alongside her. The first creature was almost on them as they both snatched for the roller door and dragged it down until it slammed shut with a metallic thump, plunging them into darkness. Sally switched on her flashlight, and as they shot the internal sliding locks into position, the first creature slammed violently against the outside of the door, shaking the whole truck. Dylan and Sally moved to the back wall and slumped to the floor.

"Give me the pistol," Dylan urged, wincing from the pain in his leg.

Sally took the gun from her backpack and handed it to him. "Do you think they can get in here?" she asked anxiously.

"I don't think so, but I want to be ready if they do."

They sat, breathing hard, with their backs against the wall, while the hiders threw themselves at the roller door outside, causing it to shudder violently each time they made contact.

"How long do you think they can keep doing that?" Sally asked.

"I don't know, but they can't keep it up forever. They'll probably go back into hibernation when they realise that they can't get to us."

"I hope so."

Sally shone the flashlight onto Dylan's right leg. "That's a lot of blood. What happened out there?"

"The extermination was going to plan, but just as I was about to shoot the fourth one, another one came out of nowhere. Maybe it was in a car, I'm not sure. It took me by surprise and we ended up on the ground. I think the fucking thing bit me! I managed to kill it but then the other one woke up and I had to run. I really need to get a more efficient weapon."

"Let me look at your leg," Sally ordered, concern obvious on her face.

"Its fine."

"Oh yeah, right!" Sally challenged, almost in tears. "You've been bitten by a crazed freak that's been eating people for the last few days and you say you're fine! I'm sure they're not cleaning their teeth before they go to bed! You could catch anything!"

Dylan looked at her for a second, and then burst out laughing. Sally tried to keep a straight face, but the tension and stress of the last few minutes drained away, she joined in. So as the beasts bashed and thumped into the aluminium truck body, the laughter of the pair rang out through the underground car park like a glorious celebration of their enduring, fragile lives.

-

When they were sure that the feeders couldn't get into the back of the truck, Sally checked Dylan's wound. He trained the flashlight on his upper thigh, while Sally used his knife to cut the leg of his black jeans well above the knee. The wound looked extremely nasty. These creatures displayed overwhelming rage and Dylan had felt the full force of it. The deep bite showed distinct teeth marks and was still leaking significant amounts of blood. She needed to find a way to stop the bleeding, and she needed to do it quickly. She scoured the inside of the truck until she found a roll of paper towel, which she folded up into a thick pad, which she used staunch the flow of blood. Then she washed the wound with water from her drink bottle, and tore strips from her shirt before wrapping it a tightly round Dylan's thigh to hold the paper pad in place. Dylan was watching her intently when she looked up from her handiwork.

"I think you'll need stitches when we get back to St Jude's, but that bandage should stop you from bleeding to death until then."

Dylan was still staring at Sally with a look that she couldn't quite interpret. "What? What's wrong? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Dylan smiled, "I'm so impressed with you. You're so capable. I mean it, really. If you didn't move quickly out there before, I think they would have got me. You're remarkable."

"Thanks. I guess almost being killed by psychopathic zombies brings out the best in me."

"And you have a sense of humour."

"You forgot gorgeous" she joked, flicking her dark hair dramatically.

"I was getting there. You are gorgeous," he said. "Very."

Sally blushed and started cleaning up the mess she'd made from her nursing duties. "Well, I guess I don't have much competition, do I? Most of the women in the world these days aren't you're type, are they? They're homicidal freaks who want to eat you."

As if on cue, the truck shook as a creature tried to break through the thin metal wall. Sally looked at Dylan.

"Don't worry, they can't get in. We'll be safe until they give up and go back to find a new nest."

He lay down on the hard floor of the truck and stared at the ceiling as Sally self-consciously continued to clean up.

"If we're going to be here for hours I'm going to see if there's something to make us more comfortable. Give me the flashlight."

He handed it to her, and then watched as she unpacked boxes until she'd found enough packing materials to make a rudimentary mattress. "Here, lie on this" she said. "It'll be nicer than that hard floor."

After Dylan had made himself comfortable she asked, "Why do you hate them so much?"

"Who? The zombies?"

"Yes."

"Because they're dangerous. They need to be wiped out. Why do you think?"

"I don't know. It just seems more than that. I hate them too and want them gone, but with you it seems personal or something."

"I really don't want to get into that with you right now."

"Why?" Sally pushed.

"Because. Just leave it okay? It's been a hard morning and we nearly died. We have a long wait ahead of us. Lie down and take it easy."

"Are you hungry? I have some energy bars in my pack."

"I'm starving," he replied gratefully.

There was another thump on the side of the truck, this time less forceful. "They're getting bored." Dylan explained.

Sally sat down next to him and unwrapped two energy bars. She handed him one and they ate in silence. When they were finished Sally asked, "Do you think we can ever have normal lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we have our whole lives ahead of us, if we survive the zombies that is. Can we ever just be happy and feel ordinary?" Sally began to cry. "Will people have things to look forward to? Can we make a world worth living in?"

"We can try," Dylan said, taking her into his arms and holding her closely as the flashlight batteries died and its beam faded away to nothing.

An hour later, as they lay together in the dark on their makeshift bed of bubble-wrap and shredded paper, the last feeble thumps of the creatures ceased and silence descended, absolute and perfect.

Soon it would be time to move on.
Chapter 32

Heading Home

As Matt drove into the setting sun towards Millfield, the girls beside him chatted as if they were simply being driven home after a shopping trip. He knew that Montana was purposely keeping the conversation upbeat for Gabby's sake, but he got the impression that she was also enjoying the simple. The last few days spent with the socially challenged Brock couldn't have been easy, and Matt dreaded to think what would have happened to Montana's personality if she were forced to spend any longer in his presence, without the regular perspective that came from normal companions. She may have become as malicious and twisted as her delusional kidnapper. Matt also wondered what Montana had meant when she said that Brock had been "playing with the bodies". Did she mean like toys, or something more intimate? Either way, the idea disturbed Matt greatly and despite his curiosity, he didn't want to raise these dark issues with Montana while Gabby was in earshot. He actually wasn't even sure whether he wanted to know at all. A world with feeders was distressing enough without needing to dwell on the horrors that the human mind was capable of.

Montana turned to Matt. "How long before we get to your place? It'll be dark soon."

"Don't worry," he responded, squinting into the setting sun. "It's only another half an hour and I reckon there's almost an hour of daylight. What do you two feel like for dinner? I'm a pretty good cook."

"Boys can't cook!" challenged Gabby.

"Gabby, that's terrible!" Montana exclaimed, laughing. "Where on earth did you learn such old-fashioned ideas? Men can cook and women can be doctors and truck drivers if they want to."

The little girl looked sadly down into her lap, thinking she had said something wrong. Montana reached over and gave her a hug. "Honey, don't be sad. It's okay, but just remember that girls can do anything boys can do, and boys can do anything that girls can."

Matt smiled at the exchange between the blonde girl in the "Bitch" t-shirt and the six year old.

"Boys can't have babies!" stated Gabby, victoriously; as Matt slowed the car down to begin the descent through the National Park forest.

This was the slowest part of the journey, but it was also the most scenic. The road curved through dense, luxuriant rainforest that was dappled in late afternoon sunlight. Montana wound down her window and stuck her head out. "Smell that, Gabby!" she said. "It's beautiful."

Gabby gazed straight ahead as Matt slowed down to negotiate a hairpin bend in the road.

"It's not beautiful. There's something bad out there," she said.

"No sweetie. There's nothing bad out there, just birds and animals. It's really pretty. Look".

"No. It's bad. I don't like it here."

Matt could see that Gabby was upset. "It's okay honey. We'll be out of here soon and back in the sun. Then before you know it we'll be home having dinner. You didn't tell me what you wanted me to cook".

"Can you really cook?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Sure. What do you feel like?"

"Can you make hamburgers?"

Matt laughed. "Are you kidding? I make awesome hamburgers. You can help if you like."

"Okay," she said, eyes returning to the road ahead.

Gabby's fear of the forest seemed to have abated somewhat as they swung into the final descent. After this bend, they would be out in the open again and on a straight run home to Millfield through cleared farmland. Matt relaxed and opened up the throttle in anticipation of being home before it got dark. He smiled and glanced at Montana, "Won't be long now."

As his eyes returned to the road, though, he was forced to jam his foot hard on the brake as they skidded headlong towards a fallen tree. The girls screamed as Matt fought with the steering wheel in an attempt to control the truck as they skidded towards the obstacle. He felt the rear tyres sliding sideways, and a head-on crash seemed inevitable, but at the last second, the rubber gripped the bitumen, and Matt was able to steer his truck through the tree's foliage and into a shallow culvert at the edge of the road. Despite their speed being slowed considerably, Matt, Gabby and Montana jolted forward hard onto their seatbelts at the moment of impact and Matt heard Elvis yelp as he was thrown forward into the window behind them. He looked around desperately as the car rocked to a stop.

"Is everyone okay?"

Montana, shocked, was silently nodding her head in agreement and Gabby was crying, but Matt thought everybody looked okay. As Montana consoled Gabby, Matt hopped out of the truck to check on Elvis. He lifted him out of the tray and placed him on the ground to check for obvious injuries like broken bones but, apart from a limp, the dog seemed to have survived his ordeal intact, and was already marking his territory by urinating on a nearby tree. The three crash survivors gathered on the road by the huge fallen eucalypt and looked around. Nobody wanted to say anything, but the sun had slipped a little further behind the trees and it was getting gloomy in the forest.

"That could have been a lot worse," Matt stated rather obviously. He crouched down and held Gabby by the shoulders. "Are you okay honey?"

"That was scary," she said. "Who put the tree there?"

Matt smiled. "Nobody put it there, sweetheart. It just got pushed over in a storm. When the ground gets really wet, these big trees sometimes just fall over on their own."

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"Yes Matt," Montana asked. "What are we going to do? Can we go around it?"

Matt had already made his mind up about that particular question. "No way. It's too big. Even if I had a chainsaw it would take hours to cut it up enough to move it."

"Well, can we get in the car and go back and find a different way to Millfield?"

"This road only goes straight back to Carswell. Do you want to go there in the dark? Besides, my car's not coming out of that ditch unless someone tows it out."

"Well what do you suggest? We can't stay here can we?"

"I'm not sure," he replied.

Matt looked down at Gabby and sensed that she was more frightened than at any time since this ordeal started. She returned his gaze. "This place is bad. We have to go before it gets dark. Something's here."

"Nothing's here Gabby. You don't need to worry. We'll look after you. Montana, take her over and put her in the car with Elvis."

Montana whistled for Elvis and took him over to the ute with Gabby, put them in together, and closed the door. Then she went back over to Matt, who was looking down the road in the direction of the rapidly fading sun. "Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"I think we only have one option."

"That can't be good. What is it?"

Matt grimaced, knowing that she would hate his suggestion. "We stay in the truck for the night."

"You have got to be kidding! Stay out here with those things everywhere?"

"Wait. Listen to me," he said, trying to sound far more reasonable than he actually felt. "We're in the middle of nowhere in a National Park. I don't think anybody lives around here. The chance that feeders are way out here is really unlikely. We just lock ourselves in the truck and wait for the sun to come up tomorrow morning, and then we'll walk until we find a car and then we go home. I have my shotgun if a feeder shows up. What do you say?"

"I say it sounds horrible, but I can't see a better alternative, so I guess we have no choice. I'll go tell Gabby," she spat, giving him a dark look as she wheeled away towards the truck.

Matt stood and surveyed the gloomy forest. Gabby was right. This place was creepy. It seemed ancient, timeless and malevolent all at once. He tried to rationalise his fear, but nothing worked. He didn't like it here, full stop. Instead of being at home in his warm house cooking hamburgers, he was going to be spending a cold, hungry night in a cramped truck trying to protect two girls he had met only today. What had happened to his life?

He went to the back of his ute and opened the toolbox where he kept his shotgun. He sat on the trunk of the fallen tree and watched Montana talking to Gabby inside the truck. She was probably telling the girl what a dick he was for getting them all into such a mess. 'Maybe I am a dick', he thought bitterly. This was all too hard for a boy who just wanted to go to school and eventually become a farmer. Why did he have to take responsibility for other people all of a sudden? It just didn't seem fair!

He was about to get up and check on the girls, when he had the strangest sensation that he was being watched. He peered into the gloomy forest, but saw nothing but a sea of dark green vegetation. Maybe he was just jumpy after the experiences of the last few days. Surely there would be no danger this far from town, but the feeling of being watched persisted. He scanned the trees again and had almost convinced himself that his paranoia was simply a manifestation of his fear, when the naked figure of a male feeder pushed through the scrub just one hundred metres from where he was standing. Matt stared, scarcely believing his eyes. He watched as the feeder stepped onto the road and paused, before looking around with its nose in the air. Matt could see the girls still talking to each other in his truck, illuminated by the interior light, but when he motioned with his free arm, he couldn't attract their attention. He just had to hope that they wouldn't leave the safety of the vehicle until he had a chance to kill this creature. Matt was pretty sure it hadn't spotted him yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. He didn't understand why one of them would be this far from a populated area, but he knew that somehow it had sensed their presence and was here to feed on them. All of these thoughts occurred to Matt in just a second or two, and by the time he had formulated them, the creature had looked up and seen him, just as Matt was raising his gun. He risked a glance at the cab of the truck and saw that Montana was now watching this new threat with wide eyes, while Gabby was nowhere to be seen, presumably hiding on the floor of the truck once more.

The creature made its move, and raced down the middle of the shadowy road towards Matt with bloodlust in its eyes. He took a deep breath, aimed down the shotgun barrel at the creature's chest and pulled the trigger. He knew right away that he had missed. He was out of practice and the recoil sent the shot high and to the right. The feeder was halfway to Matt now, yet somehow he registered through his fear, that this one was older than most of others he'd seen, maybe even as old as sixty. The weird thing was, though, it was running like a twenty year old, and had covered almost half the distance to Matt in just a handful of seconds. He took aim once more, this time more prepared for the recoil and confident that he could take this thing down just before it reached him and ripped his throat out. Then, when the filthy, bloodstained beast was about thirty metres out, Matt very deliberately squeezed the trigger and waited for the shot to ring out. Instead, the hammer clicked down on the second shell with a dull metallic click, and Matt realised with absolute clarity of mind that he was totally fucked.

From the truck he heard Montana screaming.
Chapter 33

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"Where do I start? Dylan's "zombie" hunting expedition didn't go quite as smoothly as I would have liked. It was terrifying enough while the damn things were sleeping, but when one of them woke up and chased Dylan I thought I was going to die, either from fright or zombie attack (now_ _I'm_ _calling them zombies, which they're not - they haven't come back from the dead, which I actually think makes them worse). Anyway, he managed to fight it off, but in the process got bitten on the leg. Somehow we were able to scramble into the back of a van where I bandaged him up and stopped the bleeding, (but I'm worried now that the wound might get infected despite starting a course of antibiotics since we got back). We were trapped in that truck for over an hour with I don't know how many zombies trying to get in, but they didn't, thank god! After a while the thumps on the truck stopped and we risked opening the door to see if they had gone. Dylan was right; they must have gone back to their nests to sleep because the car park was empty. (He thinks that they really need that downtime to rejuvenate, even though it seems like they can come out of it for a while if they are in danger). Even with Dylan limping along on his injured leg, we got out of that basement pretty damn fast and headed out into the sunshine. The warmth on my face felt amazing. (By the way, if these creatures could handle the daylight, we would be royally screwed. Owning the daytime is our only salvation)._

_As we walked home holding hands Dylan didn't talk much. I guess because he was in a lot of pain. I had this emotional knot in my stomach and wanted to talk about what happened in the van between us this morning, but I didn't want to scare him off either because I know what babies men can be when it comes to commitment (hi dad!). Let's just say what happened was one of the most moving moments of my life, and I'll never forget it. Despite my excitement, I'm going to play it cool and see what happens. We have time, after all._

_I saw my first marauders on the way back to St Jude's today. We were a few blocks from home when we heard people talking loudly nearby. When the voices got closer, Dylan dragged me into the nearest shop and we hid behind the counter. The marauders were in daylight and we were in the shadows, so it was safe to peek over the top to check them out. A group of four men (although they were more like animals to me) of various sizes and ages were wandering down the middle of the road, looking like characters out of some "Road Warrior" movie. They were bristling with weapons and off their faces on god knows what! Booze, pills, crack? Maybe all three. Let's face it, if that's your thing, you just have to walk into a chemist and help yourself; there's plenty to go around and no law to stop you. They were laughing manically about nothing in particular and obviously looking for trouble. As they went past the window I could see that the last one was dragging a long piece of orange nylon rope behind him and I expected to see a savage dog come into view, but I was wrong. As the four moved out of our line of sight I saw that the rope was attached to a large spiky dog collar, which was secured around the neck of a naked girl. I thought I had become unshockable, but that rocked me badly. I looked at Dylan, desperate for him to do something, but he just looked at me sadly and shook his head. Any attempt to save her would have probably ended in one or both us being killed. He told me later if his leg hadn't been injured he might have been able to do something. Who knows? Maybe next time we'll be in a better position to help. There is a crushing guilt, though._

_When we got back to the church, Jo quickly arranged medical treatment for Dylan's leg from Kathy, who used to be a nurse. She put a few stitches in and congratulated me on my improvised bandage. She said he should be fine if he kept taking the antibiotics and changed the dressing each day. After we'd cleaned up and had something to eat I went to talk to Mr Ash about the marauders and asked him how dangerous they were for us. He said the groups so far were only small and that we had them outnumbered, but who knows how long that will last.? At the moment anyone who tries to get into St Jude's has to give up their weapons and submit to our rules. The guards are very cautious and so far that's been enough to deter the bad element. Mr Ash said if there was any doubt, they would shoot first and ask questions later - something he never got to do as a high school teacher (ha ha). I told him about the girl tied to the rope and he said he would send a group out with automatic weapons to see if there was something they could do for her, but he didn't seem confident. "These are bad times," he said._

_Later in the afternoon, while everyone was getting the dinner ready, the lady I had seen in conflict with Jo yesterday (her name is Bonnie) came over to Jo again and started arguing and pleading with her about something. I was too far away to hear everything clearly, but it was obvious that she wanted to leave St Jude's and go home. The longer the argument went on the more agitated she became, and more people came over to try to convince her to stay. When I saw Dylan limp over to listen to the commotion I went and stood with him and listened too. It seems that Bonnie had come to the city for a couple of days for some job interviews and been trapped here because of the event. The reason she was so frantic to get home was because she had left her daughter behind with a neighbour and was now desperate to get back to her country town (I think she said Millford?) to see if the child had survived. She was begging to be let go but everybody said it would be suicide to leave the city to travel four hundred kilometres out into the countryside with all the zombies and marauders about. The other big reason for not going, though, was the cruel fact that her daughter was almost certainly either already dead or a zombie herself. Nobody knew of any circumstances where more than one person from a family group had survived. As far as we could tell, everybody on earth had become orphans overnight._

_When Bonnie realised that she wasn't going to be allowed to leave, she screamed hysterically into her hands and went to the back of the church and threw herself on her bed and continued to sob. The small crowd that had been involved in the argument gradually went back to their dinner preparation and I went back to peeling my potatoes. So I was surprised, when a few minutes later, I looked over and saw Dylan sitting on the bed next to Bonnie chatting quietly with her. At that moment I couldn't help but think how caring he was, and thought that it wouldn't hurt to offer my support as well, so I went over to be with them. The conversation was similar to the one I'd just heard, but less argumentative. (I discovered that Dylan had listening skills!) Bonnie was saying that nobody had a right to try to stop her from getting back to her daughter, no matter how dangerous it was or how unprepared she was to handle it by herself. She said that it was inhuman to stop a mother trying to get back to her only child and if she weren't allowed to leave in the morning, she would just walk past the guards, challenging them to shoot her. Dylan explained to her very gently that she had no chance to reach her daughter on her own, and that it would be almost impossible even with a team. Then Bonnie looked at Dylan with desperation and said, "There must be a way! It's my little girl! My baby! I need to know what's happened to her, otherwise I may as well be dead too!"_

_Dylan looked at her, and then at me._

_"We'll take you," he said._

_And for reasons I don't really understand I found myself standing there with tears in my eyes nodding enthusiastically in agreement._
Chapter 34

The Feeder

Montana screamed from the truck as the feeder sprinted down the dark road towards Matt. He'd grabbed his useless shotgun by the barrel to use as a club, but it probably wouldn't be enough to protect him from the creature's savagery. He hoisted it like a baseball bat and hoped that somehow he could get in a lucky blow and drop this creature before it leapt on him. It was close enough now that Matt could see the hate in its eyes and the red veins like roadmaps on its face. He braced himself to strike and hoped that Montana and Gabby would somehow find a way to survive without him. He'd die now thinking he'd failed them. The feeder was only metres away, and as he swung the makeshift club with all his strength he heard a deafening explosion nearby as the creature lunged at him. His strike missed wildly and he overbalanced and hit the bitumen, as the feeder came down on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He dropped his gun and grabbed the creature by the throat and squeezed as hard as he could while the beast tried to take a bite from his face. He was no match for this crazed opponent and was preparing for the worst when the feeder suddenly coughed up a wad of bloody mucus onto Matt's chest and was still. Matt pushed the body away hysterically, where it came to rest on the road, unmoving in the late afternoon gloom.

Matt looked over at Montana who was still in the truck with Gabby and Elvis, and then back at the figure that was lying face up on the road, in by a rapidly expanding pool of blood. A twig snapped behind him and he swung around to face the next assault, but was relieved to see that the figure emerging from the shadows on the side of the road was a grey-haired woman wielding a rifle. Matt stared, dumbfounded, as she raised the gun above her head and yelled triumphantly, "I got him! At last I got him! Ha! Stupid crazy bastard! I showed him!"

She turned Matt and lowered her gun.

"Hi! I'm Kate," she said holding out her hand. "He almost got you didn't he? Why didn't you shoot him?"

"Umm, I, umm, my gun jammed or something. What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It's a long story. Wow, I really killed him didn't I?" she stated as she looked over at the truck. "I think your friends can come out now. It's safe, he was the only one." She put her gun down gently on the road and yelled out to the girls in the car, who by now had their faces pressed up against the window, "You can come out now! I got him!"

Montana and Gabby climbed warily from the ute and headed over, while Matt asked the bizarre apparition before him, "Where did you learn to shoot like that? I think you just saved my life."

She laughed. "I certainly did just save your life. You got that right. The shooting? I've been popping bunnies for longer than you've been alive; I've never shot a person before, though. That's different. I have a funny feeling that it won't be my last, though. What do you reckon? Look at me, I'm shaking."

She looked over at the truck in the ditch. "Looks like you've had a bit of an accident."

Montana and Gabby had joined them now and were staring down at the dead body of the feeder.

"Let's move away from this thing and talk," the woman said, heading towards the fallen tree trunk, where she sat and took some deep breaths. "Why don't you go over and turn on your headlights?" she instructed Matt. "I'll get to know these beautiful girls? And what is this gorgeous puppy's name?"

"Elvis," Matt said, heading off to the ute obediently. By the time he returned the three women (and Elvis) were chatting like old friends and Matt had to wait for a pause in the conversation before he could speak. He held out his hand, "I'm Matt."

"Hi Matt. Kate," she said offering her hand. "Did I already tell you that? Doesn't matter. You're a very lucky young man aren't you?"

"Yes. Thanks for saving my life, by the way. I really appreciate that, but why on earth are you out here?"

"Okay. I'd love to tell you, but it's getting cold and dark out here. Why don't we go to my place and I can fill you in while I cook dinner. I have a little house up the road and my car's not far away. What do you say?"

Before Matt could answer, Gabby and Montana blurted out simultaneously, "Yes please!" and the decision was made.

After they'd collected their bags from the truck and switched off the headlights, Kate walked with them back up the road until they came to a bush track that had been almost invisible when they drove past it earlier. "I didn't even see that road", Matt remarked as they climbed into Kate's jeep with Elvis perched between the girls in the back seat.

"It's not much more than a fire trail really. It's only used by me and fire trucks in summer", Kate explained, as she started up the engine and headed slowly up into the hills. The combination of the car's noisy engine and the bumpiness of the road made conversation almost impossible, but it was obvious that the three passengers were happy to be in the care of this eccentric, but practical woman.

After fifteen minutes of labouring up the gravelly trail, they pulled into a clearing and Kate's home stood before them. To say that it was unusual was an understatement. It seemed as if it had been built as an experiment in recycling and non-conformity. It was like a multi-level timber tree house, but without the tree. "It's beautiful," said Gabby.

"It's ... different," said Matt.

"It's safe," said Kate. "Let's go inside."

They went up the stairs to the front door, as little lights came on automatically at ground level to show the way, and when Kate opened the front door and stepped inside, lamps turned on as if by magic, revealing a large, cosy lounge-room furnished with comfortable sofas, bookshelves and a range of musical instruments including a piano, three guitars, a saxophone and a harp. Kate went over and lit the open fire (which Elvis immediately curled up in front of), while instructing her three visitors to put their things down and make themselves at home. Then she showed them to the bathroom and insisted they take the time to get cleaned up. After Matt had washed and changed his gore-soaked shirt, Montana took Gabby into the bathroom and helped her shower and change into clean clothes.

"That looks much better," Kate said. "A nice warm shower always makes one feel so much better, don't you think?"

She took Matt's hand and led him to the kitchen. "I hope you know how to cook," she said, and before Matt knew it, they were standing side-by-side chopping homegrown onions and tomatoes for a pasta sauce.

Once they had got into a comfortable rhythm, Matt raised the issue of Kate's heroics from just an hour earlier. "If you weren't there," he said. "I think that feeder would have killed me and I wouldn't be here now. But I have to ask, what on earth were you doing out there? It couldn't just be luck, could it? Were you hunting that thing?"

She smiled and patted his upper arm. "Of course I was sweetie. I've been trying to kill it for days. It's been coming out after dark every night for almost a week. At first it just watched the house from the trees, maybe to ambush me, I'm not sure. But for the last couple of nights it's been trying to find a way in. I couldn't sleep. It was annoying the crap out of me. So this afternoon when the sun started to set I decided to ambush it! Turn the tables! I waited outside with my gun until it showed up in its usual spot in the trees and I tried to shoot it, but I missed and it ran back into the forest. I guess I was pissed off, so I decided get in my car and go after it, but I couldn't find the damn thing anywhere. Then I heard your car come off the road and went to investigate, and well, you know what happened after that."

"Where did it come from?" asked Matt. "Why was it there? Do you know?"

"Yes I do," she said, giving Matt a cheeky wink. "It was my ex-husband. That'll teach the prick to cheat on me. Keep your eye on the sauce, sweetie. I'll go and see how the girls are getting on."
Chapter 35

A Journey Begins

When Sally woke, Dylan was already in the kitchen, talking to Bonnie over a cup of coffee. It was dark outside and the weather had become cooler overnight as rain drizzled down outside the church's stained glass windows. Sally walked over and sat beside Dylan, who had obviously been discussing plans for their trip to Millfield. Bonnie seemed much more relaxed now that she had a goal to pursue, and Sally sensed that there was a special friendship that had already formed between Dylan and the woman. As she watched them talk she wondered what mutual interests they could have had to help them bond so quickly. On the surface, they were very different people - Dylan was a young, energetic, no-nonsense male while Bonnie was a thirty-something mother whose only priority was to get back to her daughter.

Listening to their conversation, Sally was surprised to hear that they were planning on setting out from the church today. Dylan couldn't see any point delaying the trip and Bonnie was desperate to get moving as soon as possible. After some discussion, it was decided that Sally and Bonnie would spend the morning gathering basic supplies and equipment while located a suitable vehicle. While they understood that many of the city's roads were blocked, Dylan thought that driving would still be much faster than walking, even if they had to take indirect routes or swap cars if the congestion made streets impossible to navigate. After he had secured transport he would look for more suitable weapons than the lone shotgun he had been using. Now that the zombies were capable of coming out of their hibernation to attack, a more brutal approach to their eradication would be needed. He would try to source a semi-automatic weapon for himself, and versatile, compact guns for Sally and Bonnie. They didn't like the idea at first, but Dylan convinced tham that it would be foolish not be as prepared as possible. Once they had agreed on a list of required items, Dylan gave both women a quick hug and headed back into the city to the sporting goods store where he had liberated his shotgun earlier in the week.

"Watch out for marauders," said Sally, giving him another hug.

"I'll be very cautious. See you back here in a couple of hours."

As they watched him walking away, down a rain-swept Celebration Boulevard, Bonnie turned to Sally, "Right, we've got a lot to do. Let's get moving!"

It was less than two hours before Dylan returned to St Jude's, and the rain had eased. Sally and Bonnie were standing on the footpath outside the fence with neatly stacked piles of essential supplies when Dylan pulled up in a black, late model Toyota Landcruiser with a heavy-duty bull-bar, roof racks and a winch on the front. There was ample storage behind the back seats and it would give them a comfortable ride combined with reliability and off-road capabilities if needed.

"I had a felling you'd choose black," Sally joked. "Call it intuition."

"Ha ha," he replied drily. "I asked the salesman for pink, but he said he'd have to order it in. I didn't want to wait. Did you get everything?"

"Yes," said Bonnie. "And if there's anything we've forgotten, we can grab it on the way. Let's get this stuff in the car."

They loaded up the car, and few onlookers, including Mr Ash wandered out of the church to observe their preparations. Nobody tried to talk them out of their mission, but it was clear that most thought they were wasting their time. When Bonnie suggested to the spectators that helping to load the car might be a better use of their time than just gawking, they drifted away moodily, heading back into the church and their supposed salvation. Mr Ash stayed, though, and helped them put the last few things into the back.

"Don't judge them too harshly," he said. "Everybody here is just hanging on. We're huddling together like cavemen, too scared to go out in the dark. Nobody has a family anymore. I think they are a little jealous that you have something to aim for, no matter how unlikely to succeed it may be." He went over and took Bonnie's hands. "Do you really think you have a chance?"

She looked him in the eyes and whispered, "Gabrielle is alive. Don't ask me how I know, because I couldn't explain it. Maybe only a mother could know. I just hope we can get to her in time."

"Bonnie, we all hope you find your daughter. It would be the best thing any of us could imagine."

Mr Ash hugged Bonnie as Dylan and Sally looked on silently. When he released her, Bonnie could see that this strong, compassionate man had been crying. "Thanks," she said, before turning her back on him and walking to the car.

-

They cruised through the empty city streets and noticed that there were more people around than there had been in the previous few days - certainly not in large numbers yet, but enough to suggest that many survivors had stayed inside during the first few days after the event. Now, after almost a week of soul-destroying fear, they were beginning to venture out into the world once more. One time, about thirty minutes after they'd left the church, a man waved them down to ask for help. Dylan gave him directions to St Jude's and suggested that he should get there as quickly as possible. The man thanked him and went on his way.

After consulting maps in the morning, Dylan thought the trip to Millfield in normal times (before the event) would have taken around six hours. In reality, though, it was impossible to tell how long the journey would take and what obstacles they might face. All they could do was drive until the sun started to set, then find a safe place to bunk down for the night.

For the first hour the trip was uneventful - they waved at the occasional survivor and took detours when they found the road blocked with cars. They did their best to ignore the corpses littering the streets, but their presence was a constant reminder of what had happened and how dangerous the world had become. As they cruised steadily west, getting deeper into the outskirts of the city, tall buildings gave way to the modern malaise that had been suburbia. Out here, an hour from the city, tens of thousands of homes spread in all directions behind a procession of petrol stations, fast food outlets and used car yards. Dylan couldn't help but ask, "Do you think there are zombies asleep in all of those homes?"

Sally shuddered, "Probably only the stronger ones now."

"That's scary," commented Bonnie.

"Yeah. I can't wait to get out of the city," said Dylan. "The country has to be better than this." He looked at Bonnie in the rear view mirror. "What's Millfield like?"

Bonnie smiled and began to answer, as the windscreen of the car exploded into a wall of flames.

"Marauders!" yelled Dylan as another Molotov cocktail slammed into the passenger window of the car, turning their world into a reasonable approximation of hell.
Chapter 36

Kate

The spaghetti was very, very good and the young visitors felt like they were part of a family, at least for one night anyway. Kate lavished them with extra helpings, and made a delicious dessert of apple pie and ice cream, which they scoffed down noisily. After dinner, they moved to the lounge room and sat on comfy couches and told each other their stories by the warm glow of the fire. Within minutes Gabby was asleep with her head resting on Kate's lap, which allowed Matt and Montana to give Kate a more explicit depiction of the new world beyond her mountain retreat. The woman's eyes became sad and teary as Matt described the changes that had befallen Millfield, and when he described their encounter with the malevolent Brock in Carswell, Kate went to Montana and hugged her, before asking her to tell her story.

"It will help," she had said.

Montana reluctantly agreed, and began to describe waking up in a town where everyone had vanished, and how she was almost delirious with fear. She was roaming the streets in an aimless panic, and when Brock had lumbered out of a bakery she clutched at his companionship as a drowning person would at a floating paper cup. As Montana continued her story, Kate nodded, encouraging her to unburden herself of the emotional weight she had been carrying. Once Montana had finished, it was Matt's turn and Kate listened just as attentively as he described the first morning when he'd found the Thompsons' under their bed; his discovery of the feeders in Millfield, before reliving the nightmare of his father's return to the farm and the killing that ensued. He told Kate how he had stumbled across Gabby on his way to explore Carswell and from that point the two stories merged closely enough for him to be able to stop. Kate looked at Matt and Montana and shook her head, "You poor children. I don't know how you've done it. You're so inspiring. I can't imagine what you've been through. And the way you've looked after Gabby! Speaking of which, Matt could you carry her into my bedroom please? She can sleep in my bed with Montana, I'll sleep in the spare bedroom and you can have the couch."

In Kate's bedroom they gazed at the little girl, who was sleeping peacefully under a fluffy quilt.

"Gabby's very special, don't you think?" asked Kate.

"Absolutely," Matt replied. "It's a miracle I found her. She's so lucky."

Kate looked at him and responded quietly, "No Matt, that's not what I mean. You think she's just been lucky. That she's somehow fluked survival amongst all this horror. I actually think she's really special. Not like the rest of us. Unique somehow. Can't you sense it?"

"I can," said Montana. "I got a vibe from her the minute I got in the car with her. Don't you feel it Matt?"

He looked at them, wondering if they were teasing him. "No. I don't know what you mean. She seems like a normal kid to me."

"Oh well, maybe it's a female thing," said Kate, smiling. "Let's go back to the fire. She won't wake up now. I'll make you a nice cup of hot chocolate."

When they were back around the fire, Kate raised the issue of Gabby's 'specialness' once more over a large glass of red wine as Matt and Montana sipped steaming mugs of chocolate.

"Matt I know you aren't aware of anything peculiar about Gabby, but how can you explain the fact that the feeders left her alone for days before you found her. If they are as violent and aggressive as you say, then surely she would have been easy prey?"

"She hid from them at night. In her bedroom closet."

Kate levelled her gaze at Matt. "Honey, if you expect me to believe that this six year old girl somehow managed to hide from these crazed killers for almost a week, then you must think I'm older and sillier than I look. Think about it. If they wanted to, they would have found her and killed her just like they did with each other."

Matt looked to Montana for support, but there was none forthcoming. "She's right, isn't she Matt?"

Matt considered his response before replying, "I don't know. Maybe, but I can't think of any reason the feeders would spare her. Maybe she _was_ just lucky. Sometimes it's just your day."

Kate shook her head. "Matt you described both Carswell and Millfield as being heavily littered with dead bodies, yet there were none in Gabby's street. God, my ex-husband was probably the first feeder she'd seen! Doesn't that make you think these things have been avoiding her deliberately?"

Matt looked unconvinced, but could see the woman's point nonetheless. "Okay, let's assume that for some reason these feeders don't like Gabby and won't go near her. How do you explain it? What's the point? That type of behaviour goes against everything we've seen so far."

"I don't know," said Kate. "Maybe we don't even need to know why. Let's face it; we have no idea why the world has changed overnight. The rules have changed and we can't understand it. That's okay, though, because the universe is one huge mystery! How presumptuous and deluded would we be if they thought we could understand everything! Something has happened to the world, and maybe we have no more chance of comprehending that than a cockroach does of grasping the significance of the subway station it lives in. We just have to deal with what's in front of us."

"And Gabby is somehow part of that mystery?"

"Maybe."

With that comment the conversation stalled as each of them pondered the implication of Kate's theory. The fire crackled and outside they could hear the sound of rain as it started to patter on the tin roof. Montana, who had hardly been involved in the conversation since she finished her story, spoke up.

"What happens tomorrow?" she asked.

Kate smiled at her new, young friends and replied, "That's going to be the question every night from now on, isn't it?"

Later, after Kate had gone to bed, Matt and Montana sat together on the couch staring at the last dying embers of the fire.

"She's lovely, isn't she? " said Montana.

"Absolutely. I think she saved all of our lives tonight."

"Do you think she should come to the farm with us? I hate the thought of her being here on her own."

Matt scratched his head. " I don't know. She seems pretty attached to this place."

"Can we ask her tomorrow?"

"Sure," he said, as Montana laid her head on his shoulder.

"Will you hold me," she asked.

"Of course I will," he said, as she drifted off to sleep beside him.

Chapter 37

Marauders

Dylan pushed the car on blindly, despite the wall of flames that engulfed it. He couldn't risk stopping and being ambushed by marauders, but continuing to drive was fanning the flames and making the heat inside the car unbearable while increasing the chance of the car exploding. He yelled at Sally and Bonnie to grab their guns as he wound down his window to search for an escape route. Through the flames, he saw a side street about twenty metres on his right. He decided to take a chance. He stomped on the brake pedal and swerved into the street.

As the car screeched to a stop, he yelled at Sally and Bonnie, "Get out! Get out!"

He yanked open his door and scrambled out and behind a parked car, with Sally not far behind him.

"Where's Bonnie?" shouted Sally, looking around.

"There! Look!" Dylan said, pointing at the Landcruiser.

They could both see her through the flames, still in the car, reaching across the back seat, searching for something in the cargo space.

"What's she doing?" asked Sally.

"I don't know," answered Dylan, "But she'd better get out soon before the whole car goes up."

"Look!" whispered Dylan, looking down the street.

Four marauders, dressed like Los Angeles gangstas, came around the corner carrying automatic weapons.

"Shit! This is really bad," spat Dylan, as he watched nervously over the hood of the parked car.

He was trying to think of a way out of their dire situation, when Sally grabbed his arm and pointed towards their burning car, "Look!"

Bonnie had climbed from the car and, in one motion, armed a fire extinguisher and was directing the jet of chemicals at the flames.

"What the fuck is she doing?" asked Dylan frantically, as the marauders advanced towards her.

"Hey! Bitch!" the leader yelled, now only ten metres from Bonnie, who was ignoring him as she continued to put out the fire that had engulfed their car.

"Yo! Forget the car, bitch. We got something hotter for you!"

As the flames flickered and died, Bonnie gradually seemed to realise the mess she was in. She dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a hollow clunk, and turned to face her aggressors with a face that gave away nothing. The leader of the gang, who was wearing a red bandanna as a headband, spoke again. "Ooh, you're something! I'm definitely going first with you sweetheart."

He turned and looked at his three offsiders, "You motherfuckers can wait your turn."

Behind the parked car, Dylan checked his gun and flicked the safety off, and then quickly did the same on Sally's gun. He whispered in her ear, "I need you to do this with me. No doubts, no hesitation. We'll only get one chance. When I go, come with me. Watch out for the recoil like I taught you. Okay? And don't hit Bonnie."

Sally nodded, eyes wide with fear. Then Dylan moved in front of her in a crouch position and nodded his head in a 'let's go' motion. He stood up silently and began running toward the gangstas, and Sally realised that all four had their backs turned. All of their attention was on Bonnie. As Sally got closer to the pack, she could tell that Bonnie had seen her and Dylan coming out from behind the parked car, yet her face remained passive, giving nothing away. The leader of the gang grabbed her and ripped her top off as his three henchmen looked on salaciously.

Dylan stopped five paces short of the bandits and nodded at Sally. It was time to act. But as he raised his gun to shoot, "red bandanna" turned to grin at his gang and saw Dylan and Sally preparing to fire.

"The fuck?" he yelled, realising that he'd been outflanked.

The three other marauders, who had been spectators up to this point, turned as Dylan and Sally let loose.

Sally hadn't been prepared for the recoil after all, and sprayed her first couple of rounds wide, but Dylan's experience shone through and his first volley of bullets struck all three in the chest showering the air around them with a fine red mist.

Now 'red bandanna' realised he was outnumbered, and he threw Bonnie to the ground and reached for his weapon, as his partners fell in an undignified, bloody heap. As Dylan and the last gangsta levelled their weapons at each other, Sally thought, somewhat absurdly, that they looked like mirror images of the other, almost choreographed. To complete the illusion, both men squeezed the triggers of their weapons simultaneously and waited for the deadly impact. What saved Dylan was Bonnie's spilt-second decision to throw herself at the legs of 'red bandanna' as he pulled the trigger. So, as Dylan's salvo of fire blew the top off the gangsta's head, sending shards of bone and bits of brain into the air, the gangsta's shot sailed away into the sky harmlessly, leaving Dylan untouched.

The toxic stink of the car's blistered paint burned the nostrils of Dylan as he swung around to check on Sally. She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say "not a problem." He put his gun down and went over to help Bonnie, who was struggling to get out from under the dead gangsta. "Shit!" she said, "He's heavier than he looks!"

"Yeah, and he'll have to wear a hat from now on," Dylan added.

He helped Bonnie to her feet and surveyed the scene. The four marauders lay dead on the ground as foam from the extinguisher dripped from the car and mingled with their blood.

"Is anyone injured?" he asked.

"No."

"No."

"Then let's get out of here. It's not a nice place."

After they had cleaned the soot from the windscreen and the windows of the car, Dylan checked under the hood to make sure that the fire hadn't damaged the engine or the car's electronics. When he was satisfied that there was no harm done, they climbed back in, Sally and Bonnie getting into the back seat together. Dylan was the first to speak once the car was moving again. "Jesus Bonnie! What were you doing back there, saving the car? That could have gotten you killed. We can get a new car anytime! There are millions of them all over the place."

"I don't know," she exclaimed. "I just remembered packing that fire extinguisher on top of the other stuff. I wasn't really thinking I guess. I didn't want to be slowed down by losing our car. I was stupid, wasn't I?"

"Maybe, but we made it, so let's just try to be more careful. From now we have to be prepared for anything. I want you both to make sure your weapons are always loaded, but always keep the safety on while we're in the car."

He looked at Sally in the rear-view mirror. "Are you okay?"

She nodded but he could tell that she was close to tears. He guessed that Bonnie was probably holding her hand.

"You were great back there," he said to her, smiling. "That's exactly how we have to become – ruthless. Once we make a decision we need to act on it without hesitation. I don't want to think about what those scumbags would have done to Bonnie if they'd killed us first."

"Why do there have to be people like that? Isn't it horrible enough just with the zombies?" asked Sally.

There was no answer.
Chapter 38

An Offer Refused

Matt woke up to the smells of coffee and bacon wafting from the kitchen. The sounds of Kate, Montana and Gabby fixing breakfast sounded so normal that he wished he could stay in bed. Perhaps if he didn't get up, then this calm, contented moment might last forever. He sighed and sat up on the couch. Outside the sun had risen, but it wasn't high enough in the sky yet for its warmth to break through the rainforest canopy, so the house was chilly despite the fact that Kate had relit the fire. He stretched and headed to the kitchen.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Gabby offered cheerily, as she scooped scrambled eggs onto three plates, under Montana's close supervision.

"We were wondering when you'd finally get up," said Montana, smiling at him. "It's nearly eight o'clock."

"That couch is really comfortable. I slept like a log. I'll just use the bathroom before breakfast. Good morning Kate."

"Morning Matt. How do you like your coffee?" she asked without turning around.

"White, one sugar please."

"Coming up. Now hurry up and go wash before your eggs get cold," she demanded, as she filled his coffee mug from a copper pot.

Ten minutes later as they sat sipping their coffees (juice for Gabby) in front of empty plates, Matt broke the comfortable silence. "That was a great feed. Thank you. I feel like you've spoiled me."

"Yes, we probably have," quipped Kate, "but that's okay. You can help me with the dishes while Montana and Gabby take Elvis outside for a run."

"Sure. No problem," he replied, sensing that Kate wanted to speak to him alone.

"Hey Gabby did you know that boys could wash up?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her comically.

The little girl, who was now dressed in clean clothes with her hair styled in cute pigtails, looked at Matt witheringly. "Of course they can! Do you think I'm silly?"

"Of course not sweetheart. You're very smart. I was just teasing."

He went over to the girl and gave her a hug. "I have to go and help Kate now. Are you going to help Montana take Elvis for a walk?"

"Yes, but Kate said we're not allowed to go into the forest. We have to stay near the house, even if Elvis runs away. It might be dangerous."

"I think that's very good advice," said Matt. "I'll call you inside soon, okay."

"Okay," she said, as Montana appeared from the bedroom dressed in jeans, boots and a white t-shirt.

"Right, let's get that dog outside. He must be busting to pee!"

Gabby giggled and called to Elvis, "Come on boy! Pee time!"

Matt smiled at Montana and when beamed back at him, he marvelled at the change that had come over her since she decided to leave Brock back in Carswell. It was as if she had gotten some of her innocence back. He wondered if she would be able to maintain that outlook, given the situation they found themselves in. Come to think of it, could Matt keep his own spirits high? After all, he'd had a huge responsibility thrown upon his shoulders \- he had others that needed him. Maybe if he surrounded themselves with good people, like Montana, Kate and Gabby, he might just be able to create something worthwhile from the ashes of the old world. His parents would certainly not want him to give up, and he knew that if they could see how he had handled himself in the last few days, they would be proud of him. He went to the kitchen to help Kate with the dishes.

"It's about time," she joked, from the sudsy sink as he entered the kitchen. She threw a cloth at him. "Make yourself useful and dry the dishes while we chat."

"What are we chatting about?"

"Your plans, for one thing. What happens to you three now? What do you plan on doing?"

Matt looked at Kate. His plan had always been to return to the family farm, but now he realised that Kate was implying that there was another option.

"Well, were heading home to 'Two Hills', that's my dad's ... I mean _my_ farm. I thought you might come with us. You know, safety in numbers. The girls really like you and there's plenty of room and we all get on really well. It's dangerous here and I think we need each other."

Matt knew immediately from her body language and the determined look on her face that Kate would not be leaving her rainforest home.

"I'm staying right here Matt. But I really appreciate your offer."

"How can you stay here?" he asked, confused and disappointed. "Especially after what happened yesterday?"

She responded with a question of her own, "Why are you going home?"

He frowned. "What do you mean? That's a silly question. That's my home. I belong there. I can look after Gabby and Montana. My parents built that farm up from nothing. I can't just walk away from it!"

She smiled at him.

"Oh," he said. "I get it."

"That's right, I feel exactly the same way about this place as you do about your farm. I've got a lot of memories here. Mostly good ones, but not all. Despite that, though, there's nowhere else I'd rather be. I love Gabby and Montana. And you, but I feel like I'm not needed in your future except as a good friend. You finding Gabby wasn't just a fluke Matt. I don't know what it is, but she's important for some reason. Montana can sense it too. You three need to be together, at the farm. I don't know, maybe it's just as simple as starting over, but whatever it is, you don't need me for that."

"What about the feeders?" Matt asked. "Will you be safe here?"

Kate smiled. "I think so. My ex-husband's the only one I've ever seen and he's dead now. I'm miles from anywhere, so why would the feeders come all the way out here? I have my shotgun, and this house is very well built. I don't think they could get in without a great deal of effort. I think I'll be fine. I'm very resourceful, and you could come and visit every now and then, couldn't you?"

"Absolutely. It's only a forty-minute drive. I could bring the girls."

"See? We can stay in touch. You can have sleepovers. It'll be fun."

Kate looked to the front door as Montana and Gabby came inside with Elvis.

"He did a pee!" Gabby yelled jubilantly. "And a poo! He smiled after he did it! Montana said he must have been holding on all night!"

Montana looked at Matt's face and could tell that something was wrong. When he told the girls that Kate wouldn't be travelling with them, there were tears and they hugged the woman who had saved their lives, begging her to change her mind. She returned their hugs and repeated what she had already told Matt. Eventually, the girls realised that Kate wasn't going to budge, so they accepted her decision with long faces and began to pack their things into the back of the car. Matt noticed that Kate had thrown a shovel into the back of the car, alongside the chainsaw and guessed what it was for. When the packing was done they travelled back down the bumpy road to the spot where Matt had crashed his car.

The body of Kate's ex-husband was still lying on the road where it had been left the night before.

"It's weird how they come home," Matt said, thinking about his father.

"Yes," Kate replied, "They seem to have some memory of their previous lives don't they?"

"One good thing, though," Matt said, pointing at the corpse, "He hasn't been eaten by other feeders, so I'm thinking he was the only one around. You might be okay up in the hills, after all."

"When I kicked him out he didn't want to leave the area. He bought a caravan and found a little spot about five kilometres away, near the creek. I hadn't seen him until the event. If I did I might have shot him anyway."

She smiled sadly and changed the course of the conversation. "Matt, grab my chainsaw and get to work on that tree; I'll attach my winch to your car and get it out of the ditch. Hopefully there's no serious damage."

She took a plastic tarpaulin out of the back of the car and went and laid it over the body of her ex-husband. "So Gabby doesn't have to look at it," she said softly.

It took Matt three hours to cut the tree into enough pieces to clear a space for his car to get through, then Kate winched it from the ditch. In the meantime, Montana had dug a shallow grave in the soft, loamy soil and the feeder, which had once been a husband, was buried unceremoniously and in silence, while Gabby played on the road with Elvis. Now they all stood together on the sunlit bitumen not knowing how to say goodbye.

"Well, we should go," Matt started. "The chickens will be wondering what's going on."

"Yes. Go. I'll be fine. You know where I live now, so I expect a visit."

"Of course we'll visit," said Montana. "How does every two weeks sound?"

"That sounds terrific, but you can come more often if you want. You know I'd love to see you all. You're my family now, aren't you?"

"Absolutely," said Matt, hugging her tightly. "Thanks again, you know, for saving me and everything."

"You're a good man, Matt. You look after those girls, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

"I know you will." She released him and went to Montana and Gabby who were crying again. "Get over here you two and give me some love!"

They hugged each other in silence. When they finally broke free, the tears had stopped and they smiled at each other. A bond had been formed that would never be broken, Matt realised.

"Okay Elvis! Let's go!" Matt commanded, and they headed towards Matt's car. Just as he was about to climb into the driver's seat, however, he realised that Elvis hadn't moved from his position at Kate's feet.

"Come on boy! Get in the back!" he ordered.

The dog whined and looked up at Kate.

"Elvis, get in the car!" she said, but the Labrador was going nowhere. He moved closer to the woman and sat staring up at her with his big brown eyes.

Gabby was the first to point out the obvious. "He wants to stay. He loves Kate!"

"I think he does," agreed Matt. "Do you want him to stay Kate? He's not really my dog anyway."

"Well, if you guys don't mind. He is a beautiful boy."

"I think it's a great idea," said Matt. "After all, we need to trust our intuition, don't we?"

"Absolutely," said Kate smiling, as she rubbed the top of Elvis's head.

Matt, Gabby and Montana walked to the ute and squeezed into the front seat in silence.

"Okay," said Matt, as the girls buckled up their seat belts beside him, "Let's go home."
Chapter 39

Mount Edward

It was three in the afternoon when they stopped for the night. They had spent the day on the main road that would take them over the Great Dividing Range, but despite the absence of immediate danger, the trip had been a slow one. Occasionally they found their way blocked by cars that needed to be winched clear, and they were wary of being ambushed again by marauders, so Dylan rarely drove above fifty kilometres an hour. Bonnie and Sally took turns in the front seat as lookouts, and their guns were loaded and ready to fire if needed. They saw a few survivors wandering about forlornly, but they kept to themselves, and Dylan didn't slow down or try to make contact with them. They knew that there would be clusters of people springing and forming groups like the one at St Jude's, but Dylan, Sally and Bonnie had no need for them just yet. Maybe after they found Bonnie's daughter they could be part of a meaningful community again, but at the moment they had a goal to pursue and they needed to do it on their own.

The town they had stopped in was a tourist village called Mount Edward at the top of the Dividing Range. For over a hundred years it had served as a weekend escape for city people who needed to unwind for a weekend and experience the countryside, while still being able to get a cocktail and a fine meal. The air was already brisk when they pulled into town, and they could tell that the night would be a very cold one. To avoid being trapped outdoors once the sun began to set, they immediately looked for somewhere to stay for the night. There were plenty of old, sturdy buildings in the main street to choose from, and they eventually settled on a small electronics store that had barred windows at the front and a metal security door at the back. After a quick search they discovered that it was free of sleeping zombies, and upstairs they found a small apartment with two bedrooms, a lounge room and a compact kitchen with a gas stove, where they would be able cook a proper meal. After lugging their bags inside and claiming personal spaces, they ventured outdoors and explored the immediate neighbourhood. Just as in the city, evidence of the initial zombie ferocity was clear. Bodies in various states of mutilation were scattered about the streets and many shop windows were smashed. The smell that had been rampant in the city in the first few days after the event had subsided somewhat as flies and birds cleaned the carcasses almost to the bone.

"Why aren't there any people about?" Dylan asked, as they stood surveying the destruction.

Bonnie looked about, then offered "This village probably only has a population of around ten thousand. It's possible that nobody survived."

Dylan frowned. "Nobody? Is that the survival rate we're looking at? No more than one in ten thousand? That can't be right. Across the country that would mean only a few thousand of us survived!" He shook his head. "No. There are more survivors than that. There has to be!"

Sally looked worriedly at Bonnie. "Do you think he's right?"

"Not necessarily," she replied thoughtfully. "This town might be empty of survivors, but statistics can be funny. I bet there are places where the survival rate is much higher. Even in random events there are clusters of larger numbers that don't fit the normal pattern, as well as lower numbers, like here. If I had to guess, I would say the survival rate across the country is around five per cent, maybe a little bit less."

"But we haven't seen that many people," argued Dylan. "Not even close."

"No, because they're hiding. Look around. Would you spend very much time outdoors with all these bodies lying around?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head.

"Anyway, we'll just have to wait and see won't we? Come on, there's nothing here. Let's go inside and get some dinner started".

They went in and locked the doors. Bonnie sent Dylan and Sally off to wash while she fired up the gas stove and prepared a curry from canned ingredients they'd carried in from the car. The sky was getting darker outside and it was cold in the apartment, but Dylan discovered a gas heater in the lounge room and was pleased when he was able to light it without any trouble. As the room warmed and the smell of curry began to waft from the kitchen, Dylan took Sally by the hand and led her to the window. He pulled the curtains back and raised the sash. "Let's check it out."

Sally stuck her head through the opening and felt the cool evening breeze on her face. Just below the ledge of the window was a large, solid awning that had been built to protect the shop's doorway from rain.

"It looks safe enough," Dylan said. "I want to see what the zombies are going to do. I wonder if they're still attacking each other?"

"I've been wondering about that too," commented Sally. "It's not sustainable is it?"

"I don't think so. But let's watch and see what happens."

They were standing together with their backs to the wall when the first creature appeared on the street below. It was a male, maybe seventeen years old and completely naked apart from a pair of sturdy boots. It paid them no attention at all.

"What's it eating?" asked Sally.

"I'm not sure, but I think it might be a chicken."

"Yeah, that's it! A whole raw chicken! That is disgusting! Won't that be full of bacteria?"

Dylan looked at her and frowned, "I guess so. I wouldn't eat it, that's for sure. What's it doing?"

"Just standing. Is it waiting for something?"

"I'm not sure."

They pondered the strange behaviour of the zombie, as Bonnie called them in for dinner. They climbed back inside to the warmth of the apartment, locking the window behind them.

"That smells great," Dylan said. "I'm starving, and it certainly smells a lot better than what that freak was eating on the street."

"Yeah, this apocalypse living really gives you an appetite, doesn't it?" joked Sally, as she scrubbed her hands with sanitising gel.

"Are there many of them out there?" Bonnie asked, as she directed them to sit at the small dining table.

"No. Just one at the moment, but I'll check again as soon as we've eaten. There must be more out there somewhere, surely?"

As they tucked into their curry, Dylan looked at Bonnie with a mouthful of food and smiled, "You know, this is awesome, but a cold beer would make it unbelievably awesome."

Bonnie jumped up from her chair, "Oh, I nearly forgot! Wait there!" and she went to the kitchen and returned with three icy cold beers as if by magic.

Sally looked at the woman and commented, "Wow! Aren't you full of tricks? How the hell did you do that?"

"I'm a mother! We have all kinds of skills and supernatural powers," she laughed, as she passed around the drinks. But before anybody had a chance to take a sip of the surprise beers, Bonnie held her bottle up and said, "Before you drink I want to say thanks to my new young friends for saving my life today, and for helping me to find my baby girl. I know you probably think I'm just being ridiculous, but I know she's alive somewhere and I really appreciate the way you're helping me. So thanks, and let's drink to a future with friends, whatever it holds."

They clinked their beer bottles together and drank.

-

With their curries finished they went to the window to see what was happening on the street below. After Dylan had grabbed his gun and established that it was safe, they climbed out onto the awning and surveyed the scene below them.

"Where are they?" asked Sally.

Dylan shook his head. "I can't even see the one from before."

"There!" Bonnie exclaimed, pointing down the street. "Is that it? Heading out of town?"

In the distance, towards the end of the darkening street, they could see the pale, naked figure of the zombie, walking away from them slowly, as if it wasn't sure what it should be doing.

"Is he the last one left in town?" asked Bonnie.

"I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say yes, or at the very least, one of just a handful," observed Dylan.

"But they were here, lots of them!" stated Sally. "You only have to look at the bodies around town to know that."

"So where are they?" asked Bonnie.

Dylan watched as the lone figure in the distance shambled off into the obscurity of the night. "I think they've moved on."

"What about that one?" asked Sally. "Why it he still here?"

"I think he's just a straggler. The others have left him behind."

-

They had cleaned up their dinner mess, and sat on the couch in the tiny lounge room and tried to analyse this new information. Despite the obvious logic of the earlier explanation - that the creatures had gone elsewhere - it didn't help them to understand where they had gone, or why. Bonnie suggested that maybe they had moved on to search for better feeding grounds, but Dylan didn't think that idea rang true. He reminded them that the straggler they'd seen before dinner had been chowing down on a whole chicken, which implied that they had access to food in town if they wanted it. Sally put forward a theory that was as unlikely as it was desirable when she suggested that they had all died from natural causes. Dylan conceded that it was possible, but didn't think it was likely. Their experiences over the last few days seemed to indicate that the creatures were actually becoming stronger.

"Well how do you explain it then?" Bonnie asked, throwing her hands up in the air.

"I think they're migrating," he stated matter-of-factly.

The women looked at him with disbelief. Bonnie spoke first. "Migrating where? Surely they have nowhere in particular they need to be. They're like animals for God's sake!"

"Exactly," replied Dylan, "And we all know that many animals migrate for all kinds of reasons".

"Yes, mostly related to the weather," Sally countered.

"Not necessarily. Some animals migrate for food and some migrate to breed."

"Wait a damned minute!" Sally objected, "You're not suggesting these things have gone somewhere to get romantic and try to make baby zombies are you?"

"No, not at all. I don't have a clue what their reason is. I just think it feels like it's the right explanation. Call it an educated guess."

"Look," said Bonnie, "There's no point trying to guess what these things are doing until we have more to go on. Let's wait until tomorrow and search the town before we leave. If we can't find any, we'll assume they've moved on for reasons unknown. Fair enough?"

Dylan and Sally nodded in agreement.

"Okay."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Now, I need to go to bed because it's been a big, scary day, and tomorrow I'm hoping to find Gabrielle. I want to start our search as soon as the sun's up. Goodnight."

After Bonnie had gone to her room and closed the door, Dylan and Sally sat on the couch, huddled together in front of the gas heater.

"I'm so glad I found you," she said.

"Me too," he replied. "Turn off the light."

Chapter 40

Return to 'Two Hills'

They reached 'Two Hills' in the early afternoon.

After they had carried their bags in from the car, Matt took the girls to his parents' old room and gave them time to unpack and clean up. He did a quick tour of the area around the house to make sure there had been no intruders, and then they went outside into the sunshine where the girls watched Matt replace the dying flowers on his father's grave. He was touched when Gabby ran over to the garden and pulled a daisy from one of his mother's shrubs and returned, before placing it beside Matt's posy on the rocky mound. He hugged her fiercely and then held her soft little hand as they walked back to the house for a late lunch and to discuss their plans for the afternoon.

As they ate their sandwiches, made with bread from the freezer, Matt explained the advantages of staying at the farm. Not only were they isolated from the feeders in town, they could also live self-sufficiently almost indefinitely. The generator in the shed and the solar panels on the roof would provide them with electricity, and there would be plenty of fresh food from the vegetable garden and his mother's chickens, which could be supplemented by canned and dried food. If they needed more protein, Matt could slaughter a cow, but he didn't think that would be necessary for a long time. When he told the girls that they would need to pitch in and help with chores around the farm, they nodded dutifully, understanding how important it would be to work as a team from now on. He also told Gabby that she would need to spend some time each day doing schoolwork, which Montana volunteered to be responsible for. Matt told them that the next time he went to Millfield he would go to his old junior school and get some books for her to work from. He told her that it was still important for people to be able to read and write so they could tell future children how beautiful and amazing the world had been before the feeders had risen.

Matt felt he needed to be honest with both girls so told them he didn't know what to expect when the sun went down later in the day. He looked at Gabby and said as gently as possible, "I don't think we'll see feeders tonight, but Montana and I will need to take turns staying awake just in case. If you wake up and Montana's not in bed next to you, don't panic okay?"

"Okay Matt. Will you stay with me when Montana's not there?" she asked hopefully.

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor in your room?"

"Yes please," she answered.

"Okay then, but just for tonight. I need my own bed otherwise I get grumpy," he said, pulling a face, and making Gabby giggle.

Matt told Montana that he would go to town tomorrow and try to find some heavy-duty equipment to help fortify the farm. If the feeders left them alone, the next few weeks would be spent making serious modifications to keep them safe at night. The most urgent requirement would be fencing materials, because the farm's barbed-wire fences were designed to keep cattle in, not feeders out. For that task Matt would need a large truck to transport the items he needed – long metal posts, concreting supplies and rolls of fencing wire and barbed wire. He also hoped to find a couple of portable arc lights with built-in generators to throw light on the fences at night once they were erected. He didn't know if the feeders would be discouraged by the light or not, but it would certainly improve their chances if Matt and Montana were forced to defend themselves with firepower. The changes to the farm would not be attractive, but Matt knew if they wanted to stay here, it was essential to build and maintain a small fortress.

He finished outlining his plans, and invited Montana and Gabby to familiarise themselves with the house and the immediate surroundings. He told them where to find the chicken coop ("follow the squawks") and the vegetable garden, but Montana looked totally confused when Matt asked her to pick any ripe vegetables and collect the eggs.

"How will I know if they're ready?" she asked.

Gabby chimed in. "It's alright I know what to do. We used to have a vegetable garden and chickens in our backyard. I'll teach you."

Montana's face was blushing as she replied, "Thanks honey."

"You'll be fine," Matt said. "It's a very instinctive thing. If it looks, smells and feels ready, then it's ready. Especially keep an eye on tomatoes, lettuce and zucchini. They can over-ripen or go to seed really easily."

"No problem," Montana replied. "Let's go Gabby. This might actually be fun."

"Oh, and watch out for snakes," Matt said, winking at Gabby, who had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

As Matt walked away from a dumbfounded Montana, he yelled out, "I'm going to check on the cattle. I'll see you in a little while."

He grabbed his shotgun from the house, and went to the big shed where the all-terrain vehicle was kept. He threw a bale of hay into the back of the vehicle, and thought about how his feelings for Montana had changed since he first saw her. Was he becoming attracted to her simply because she was the only girl he knew, or was there something else? Was he just imagining a connection between them, or was it genuine? He didn't know, but he did know that he had developed an enormous amount of respect for her in the last couple of days. Some girls at her age would be freaked out by the situation they were in, but Montana had adapted to each fresh shock with flexibility and even grace – and she had a sense of humour. Maybe it had been a little mean to scare her with the "snake" comment, he thought, but she really needed to be aware of the dangers that existed everywhere now. With no doctors or hospitals, it would be a cruel trick of fate if you survived the feeders only to be killed by a spider bite, an infection, or a bad fall. Thinking about these things made him realise that he would need to stock up on medical supplies tomorrow if he had time. It was going to be a very busy day, he thought, as he swung his shotgun around onto his back and headed up the hill to feed the cattle.

-

Matt stopped the vehicle and turned off the ignition, as the cows came trotting over to the gate. He threw the bale of hay over the fence and watched with concern as they started feeding enthusiastically. He wondered if he would ever need to protect his small herd from the feeders. Their food supply in town (whatever that might be) wouldn't last forever, and so he would need to be vigilant and eventually think about protection for his cattle. Perhaps flocks of animals would need shepherds from now on, he thought sadly. He knew that if it became a necessity; it would be a duty he could never fulfil. Maybe the cattle would just need to get lucky to survive.

He was sitting on a log watching the cattle eat, when unmistakable sounds of screaming down at the farm jolted him. He didn't think it sounded like screams of people who had just seen a snake either. It sounded exactly like the desperate shrieking of people whose lives were under immediate threat. He ran to the quad-bike, jumped on and raced down the trail towards the farm as fast as he could, while the shouts continued from the valley below.
Chapter 41

The Migration

The night passed uneventfully for the travellers in Mount Edward and there were no more creature sightings, despite Dylan checking at the window every couple of hours. After a quick breakfast, eaten as dawn broke, they loaded their gear into the back of the fire-damaged car and took to the streets to see if they could find evidence of sleepers. They were armed with loaded weapons and prepared for trouble, but after an hour or so of fruitless searching they were convinced that the town was deserted, even though they found quite a few spaces inside buildings where the evidence of feeder habitation was obvious – excrement, food scraps (mostly meat) and piles of newspapers or rags hat had used as primitive bedding. In these lairs, the smell was horrific, and despite their faces being covered by bandannas soaked in perfume, there was plenty of gagging. Finally, in a dingy, putrid backroom behind a hamburger shop, Sally's stomach conceded defeat when she discovered a rat's nest that had been established in the stomach of one of the zombies' victims. She hurried outside just in time to expel her breakfast, steaming onto the footpath outside. When Dylan and Bonnie joined her in the weak early morning sunlight they all agreed that it was time to move on.

"There's nothing more to see here," Dylan stated. "I reckon that one we saw last night was the last of them. I don't know why it was left behind, but I guarantee it was on its way to try to catch up with the rest of them."

"Where are they going?" asked Sally.

"I don't know, but the straggler last night was heading west. So I'd say that's where they've all gone."

"The same direction as us," Bonnie said.

They were back in the car and heading out of town when Dylan spoke to Bonnie, who was sitting beside him in the front seat. "How far is it to Millfield from here?"

"Only about three hours under normal circumstances," she replied. "Why?"

"Well, I don't think there's any guarantee we can make it there today."

"Why?" she asked, obviously surprised and upset.

"Because we don't know what's ahead. I looked at the map last night - this is the only route west, and it snakes down the side of the range through a valley that's really narrow in parts. If the road's blocked, there's no alternative route. We'll have to come all the way back up here and go a much longer way around. I just don't want you to get your hopes up. We still might be days away, depending on what we find."

"Oh," she said, as she said, staring at the trees sliding past the window.

"The other thing we need to consider is where to stay tonight if we don't make it to Millfield. Once we start heading down the range, the towns will be further apart. Finding somewhere safe to stay for the night might be harder than it has been up until now. If we get trapped outdoors after dark ... well."

"Let's hope we make it then," said Sally from the back seat, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than she had since this ordeal began.

As they headed west through the countryside at the top of the ranges, Sally had plenty of time to think as she watched the bush zip past. If the creatures were migrating in the same direction as they were, how far could they travel in one night? She crunched the numbers in her head and estimated that a normal walking speed for a person might be around five kilometres an hour. In other words, if the creatures walked five kilometres in one hour, they could cover around thirty kilometres in six hours. She didn't know if the zombies were capable of that kind of physical endurance, but she wanted to test her theory as soon as the opportunity arose.

"Dylan, how far to the next town?"

"Dennington is about ten kilometres away. Why?"

"How far have we travelled this morning?"

"I don't know. Maybe fifteen. Why?"

"I want you to stop there."

"But we've only been on the road for twenty minutes. It's too soon to stop. We need to push on," he said.

"Please? I need to see something."

"I guess so," Dylan replied unenthusiastically. "But just for five minutes, and then we get moving."

Bonnie looked at Sally and nodded approvingly.

She'd done the math as well.

-

Dylan stopped the car in the main street of Dennington and turned to Sally, "Well, here we are. Do you want to share your secret now?"

"Not just yet, thanks," she said, as she stood surveying the deserted street.

"What are you looking for?" Dylan asked, frustrated.

"I'm not sure, but I think I'll know when I see it."

Slowly Sally began wandering down the middle of the road, looking right and left and up and down.

"This is just like every other town we've seen so far," said Dylan. "Can we go now? We're wasting time."

"Please, not just yet," she pleaded. "One more minute.

Then, as they crossed an intersection, Sally stared down a street on her right. Bonnie and Dylan stopped beside her and followed her gaze. All they could see was an apartment building, a mechanics shop, some vacant lots and a boarded up warehouse.

"There!" Sally said. "Maybe that. Let's check it out."

Dylan looked at her. "Check what out?"

"The warehouse."

Dylan grabbed her by the arm. "What are you talking about? Check it out for what? Haven't we been in enough disgusting buildings for one day?"

Bonnie answered. "Dylan, think about it for a moment! Where do the migrating zombies go in the daytime? They can't stay outdoors, and this is probably about as far as they could realistically travel in one night from Mount Edward. It's worth a quick look, isn't it?"

He gave Sally a sharp glance. "Is that what you're thinking?"

"Yes. I just had a hunch and I want to see if I'm right."

Dylan looked at them both and shook his head. "Okay then, let's have a quick look, but then we get back on the road. I can't really see the point to this."

The women nodded and started walked briskly to the warehouse, as Dylan ambled along behind them. Upon closer inspection, it was clear why Sally thought this could be a potential nest for large numbers of sleeping zombies. Every single window had been boarded up with heavy-duty plywood and the only access point seemed to be through a broken roller door at the bottom of a concrete ramp that was below street level.

"What now?" asked Dylan. "It looks like the only entrance is through that roller door."

"Yeah," said Sally. "I was kind of hoping we could just peek through a window or something."

"Let's split up and see if we can find another way in," suggested Dylan, turning to Sally. "You and Bonnie check down the far side; I'll take the right side and the back. Whether you find another way in or not, be back here in a couple of minutes. It shouldn't take long. And have your guns ready. See you soon."

Dylan headed off down the alleyway beside the building and encountered neither open windows nor an accessible doorway. The back of the building was equally impregnable, and before he knew it he was standing at the front of the warehouse again with the Bonnie and Sally.

"Okay, it looks like it's through the roller door then. Who wants to go first?"

Sally raised her hand. "This was my idea, so I'll go. Maybe I should just go alone. There's no need for us all to risk ... you know."

"No way", said Dylan. "That's crazy. I'm coming with you, but I do think Bonnie should wait outside. She can act as a lookout and if we don't come out she can at least try to get to Millfield on her own."

"I'm okay with that. What about you Bonnie? Is that okay?"

"Only if you guys don't mind. I feel like I'm letting you down a bit, but I guess I'm serving a purpose out her too, yeah?"

"Absolutely! That's settled then. Let's go."

They walked to the bottom of the ramp and Dylan tried to raise the broken roller door, but it was well and truly jammed, with a gap they would just be able to crawl through. He looked at Sally and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I think I have to now. If they're migrating and hibernating in large numbers won't that knowledge help us to find a way to defeat them in the future?"

"I suppose so. Let's do it then."

Sally got down on all fours and put her ear to the dark space.

"I can't hear anything. If they're in there, they're oblivious to us."

She reached into her backpack and pulled out her flashlight. She lay on her stomach, and shone the light into the gloomy interior. "I can't see a damned thing in there. There's a concrete wall or something in the way."

She turned and winked at Bonnie, before reaching around for her gun. She slid it along the concrete floor into the silent building, and before Dylan had a chance to say anything, she had squirmed under the roller door after it, disappearing into the darkness.

Dylan looked at Bonnie and shrugged his shoulders. "If you don't hear anything after a while, just get out of here okay?"

"Sure. Just be careful okay?" she said, hugging him fiercely.

Dylan slithered into the shadowy building and as Bonnie stood alone in the sunshine, she wondered if this knowledge they sought was really worth the risk they were taking.
Chapter 42

Dogs

Matt raced the quad bike down the hill as fast as he could. Gravel spewed from the tyres and every bump he hit sent the bike into the air. He could hear the screaming more clearly now that he was closer to the bottom of the hill, and he couldn't help but imagine the scene he might find when he got to the girls. Why had he left them alone? He should never have expected that they were safe just because it was daylight! If either of them were killed or injured because of his lack of care he would never forgive himself. He prayed for a miracle and gave the throttle more power.

He reached the bottom of the hill in only a minute or two, but he knew that it might still be too late. He was close now and as he steered the bike around the corner of the house to the source of the screams, he prepared himself for the worst. The sight that greeted him, however, was not the one he expected. There were no feeders in sight. Instead, Montana was standing, with her back to the fence beside the vegetable patch, swinging a garden spade at a pack of three ferocious dogs that were trying to find a way to get their teeth into her and Gabby.

Matt brought the quad-bike to an abrupt, skidding stop on the grass and leaped off as he swung his shotgun around in one fluid motion. Gabby was screaming as she held onto the back of Montana's t-shirt, while the dogs worked to find an opening to attack the younger girl. Matt raised his gun at the dogs but realised that a shot at the pack would surely hit the girls as well. He advanced toward the animals yelling and waving the gun around in an effort to scare them off, but they paid him no attention whatsoever and continued their coordinated assault. As Matt raised his gun to fire a warning shot, the lead dog, an emaciated Rottweiler, got around behind Montana and lunged at Gabby's legs. Montana spun around and swung her spade savagely at the animal, but the dog bounded out of the way and the blow missed. Immediately the other two dogs sensed an opening, and struck at Montana's legs from behind, causing her to scream as blood poured from a wound in her upper leg. Montana maintained her defence of Gabby, however, and continued to swing the spade at the Rottweiler as it crouched and prepared for another attack. Matt watched all of this happen, in just a few chaotic seconds, then fired his first warning shot into the air.

While it didn't have the effect he'd hoped for, it gave him a fraction of a second to seize his chance as the dogs flinched from the explosive sound. He lowered his weapon, aiming it at the emaciated cattle-dog that had released its' grip on Montana's leg and had moved slightly away from the pack. He fired his second and final shell. Unlike his shot at the feeder in the forest the day before, this one was on target and the animal took the full force of the shot in its' chest. It collapsed onto the ground in a bloody mess and was no longer a threat. There were still two dog posing a threat, however, and Matt knew that the only chance he had was to strike before they had an opportunity to regroup. He gripped his shotgun's barrel in both hands and stepped into the fray, bringing it down like a club into the middle of the Rottweiler's back as it was about to plunge its teeth into Gabby's neck. Matt heard a crack as the dog's spine snapped and it fell to the grass in a heap. The third dog retreated a few steps from the fracas, realising that it had been defeated by a stronger and braver pack. It gave one last yelp and bounded away into the forest as Montana threw her spade tiredly at its retreating flanks. Matt rushed to Gabby.

"I think I need to sit ..." she, moaned, before collapsing onto the ground unconscious.

-

A few minutes later she was on the couch in the house and Matt was washing her face with a cool cloth.

"Ooh. I'm woozy."

"Just lay there and relax, we're okay; Gabby's in the bedroom reading. That was too close, though. I'm so sorry I left you alone. I should have known better."

She looked at him and smiled weakly. "Matt, it's fine. You can't be with us all the time. It's just one of those things. How's Gabby?"

"She's okay. She's so tough. She was actually worried about the dog that ran away; not scared, just wondering if it could survive on its own."

"My god, does anything upset that girl?"

"I don't know. She's pretty resilient? Maybe Kate was right about her. Being special I mean."

"We've been trying to tell you!" she said smiling.

"Mmm. Anyway, on a different subject, I really need to look at that leg. It's bleeding a lot."

"Yeah, it's really throbbing too. Let me get these off."

Matt turned his back while Montana wriggled painfully out of her jeans, and dropped them to the floor. He passed her a towel. "Press that to the wound while I get the first aid kit."

When Matt returned, Montana was sitting up, with a cushion from the couch on her lap to protect her dignity - an act he found touching and endearing at the same time.

"Okay, I need to see that bite," he said. "I really hope it doesn't need stitches because I have no idea how to do that."

"Go right ahead," she instructed, sounding much braver than she actually felt.

Matt gave her a half-hearted smile and lifted the towel from her pale leg. After a quick glance, he replaced the towel and looked at Montana.

"Well?" she said, "How bad is it?"

"I'm no doctor, but it looks pretty ugly. There's a lot of blood and some pretty deep teeth marks, but I don't know if it needs stitches. A doctor probably would stitch it, but with a really good bandage we can probably make do."

"Okay, let's do it then. We don't really have much of a choice do we?"

"I guess not."

Matt cleaned Montana's wound he was a surprised to see how deep the bite marks were. He bathed the area in antiseptic solution, and Montana winced, but didn't complain. He packed the wound with a thick gauze pad and wrapped the bandage tightly around it, before giving her some strong painkillers and antibiotics that he'd found in the kitchen from a flu he'd had earlier in the year. Tomorrow in town he would raid a chemist for fresher supplies of medicine and first aid necessities. Once Montana's leg was done Matt and Gabby made preparations for dinner. Matt supervised Gabby while she washed the lettuce and tomatoes and marvelled at her outlook.

"Is Montana hurt a lot?" the little girl asked.

"Just a little bit," he said. "But she'll be okay I think. Were you scared when the dogs attacked you sweetheart?"

"Yes, but I knew I'd be okay when you came."

"But I was scared too."

"Yes, I know, but you don't have to be yet."

Matt was perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"Um, we shouldn't be scared now because it's not really scary yet. It's going to get really scary later. There'll be worse things that scare us."

"How do know sweetheart?"

She looked at Matt and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know how. I just do. Can we cook hamburgers now?"

Chapter 43

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"Sliding under the broken roller door into that dark warehouse was the hardest thing I've ever done. If I had waited another second I don't think I could have gone in. Knowing Dylan was right behind me helped, but not much. Sure, I guess the warehouse could have been empty, but in my heart I knew it would be full of the sleeping zombies._

_After I felt around in the dark on the concrete floor and found my gun and flashlight, I stood up and tried to look around in the gloom, but all I could see was blackness. Then almost immediately Dylan was standing beside me and we waited together as our eyes adjusted to the dark. We didn't need our sight, though, to tell us that the warehouse had become a motel for zombies – the smell was horrendous. It was a malodorous cocktail of "human" waste, rotten food, body odour and dried blood. Lucky for me I'd already puked earlier, and there was nothing left in my stomach. I looked at Dylan, who was nothing more than a vague shadow beside me and I could tell that he was waiting for me to make a move – this was my mission, after all._

_I tucked my pistol into the waistband of my jeans and used my hand to cover the flashlight, which I turned on. The weak light showed a recessed concrete loading dock with the warehouse floor in front of us at eye level. We could see immediately that there were creatures lying there in hibernation mode. Nothing moved and the only sound we heard was the beating of our own hearts. We couldn't see the whole warehouse from where we were standing so I knew we'd have to go up onto the upper floor to get the whole picture. I swung the flashlight around the loading dock and saw a metal ladder attached to the wall that led up to the main level. If we climbed it, we'd be on the same level as the zombies. To be honest, if Dylan had turned to me right then and said "Let's go back", I would have been out of there like a shot, but he didn't so I knew I had to go through with my investigation. I motioned for Dylan to follow me and headed over to the ladder._

_I kept the flashlight turned on and tucked it into my pocket so that I had two hands to climb with. The metal rungs were cold and it took all of my willpower to keep moving up those few steps to the main floor, but I was soon standing with the warehouse spread out before me. The flashlight in my pocket was throwing only the smallest amount of light but it was enough to see that the floor was covered in "sleeping" zombies. As Dylan reached the top of the ladder and stood beside me, I looked at the mass of figures all around us and thought of Bonnie standing outside in the sunshine waiting for us. I turned and looked back at the small square of daylight shining below the busted roller door and realised that I wanted to be out more than anything - not trapped in this shadowy world of the half-dead. I took the flashlight from my pocket and aimed it into the main part of the warehouse. I don't know how Dylan felt at that moment, but I was chilled to the bone. As far as the light allowed us to see, zombies lay side-by-side covering every inch of the warehouse floor. Neither of us said a word as the enormity of this new development sunk in. As I played the beam of the flashlight back and forth across this putrid sea of once-human flesh, I noticed that there was not a single movement among them. It was like looking at corpses, and maybe that was appropriate, because I could no longer think of these things as humans. They had moved on to a new stage that we couldn't understand yet. When Dylan reached over and tugged my shirt I let out a little squeal of surprise and almost dropped the flashlight. He motioned silently with a movement of his head that we should leave and that's exactly what we did. Quickly._

_When we wriggled back out from under the roller door, Bonnie's relief was palpable and she hugged us like we were long lost friends, even though we'd only been in there for a few minutes. The sun and fresh air felt like very good drugs and despite the horror we'd just witnessed I felt pretty happy with myself that my hunch was correct. Dylan told me that I'd done well. He said he would never have thought to work out where the zombies would be resting and that it must be because I had a more analytical brain. I just said I was smarter than him and left it at that. When we described what we'd seen to Bonnie she didn't sound surprised at all. "I don't think that's their final destination, though," she said calmly. "I think they're on the move."_

_When Dylan asked her to explain what she meant, Bonnie said that she thought they might be gathering together in larger groups for strength through numbers. She said that the ones in city would find it easy to form collectives and hide from the daylight in large buildings, but the zombies that weren't in the cities would need to join with other smaller groups to find the same kind of strength. She had a theory that the creatures from Mount Edward had some kind of animal instinct to go to a particular place and become part of a larger collective. Somewhere they could settle and get organised. When I asked, "Organised for what?" she just shrugged her shoulders. She said they were just resting before continuing their journey once the sun began to set._

_Dylan didn't sound completely convinced, but he said it didn't matter anyway. He said, "Whether they've reached their final destination or not they're not going any further." When I asked why, he stated matter-of-factly that we were going to kill them where they lay. I thought he was joking at first, but the determined look on his face convinced me otherwise._

_I didn't understand his logic. Any attempt to massacre these creatures, no matter how pleasing it might be, would only put us in danger. We'd estimated that there were around a thousand creatures in that warehouse so there was no way we could shoot them all and if we only succeeded in annoying them by killing a few, the rest would overrun us easily, and I didn't feel like becoming a light snack for a zombie._

_Dylan had no intention of shooting them, however. He said all we had to do was block the exit and set fire to the warehouse and, with their escape route blocked, they would die a painful death - an idea he seemed to get some satisfaction from. I saw a side of Dylan right then that scared me a little. I guess I'm falling in love with him but occasionally I see something in him that seems hidden and secretive. I'm not suggesting he has a dark side but his intense hatred of these creatures bothers me a little._

_"Can't we just leave them and keep going to Millfield?" I asked._

_"No," he said quietly. "These things have to be destroyed. This is a great opportunity. They're totally at our mercy. We can't just drive off and leave them here. Whether we like it not, we're in a war with these things. They might have us outnumbered but we're smarter than them. If you want to live in a world that belongs to humans, you have to make a stand now. I'm going to kill them anyway, but I'd rather we stood together." Or something like that._

_Dylan waited for our answer with an expression on his face that bordered on the manic, but Bonnie and I knew he was right. His motivation may have been more fanatical than ours, but there was no mistaking his logic that these things were a very real threat to humanity. The idea that the world could ever belong to these zombies, and relegate thousands of years of human culture to oblivion made my skin crawl._

_"Come on Sally," he said. "Let's burn those fuckers."_

_Bonnie nodded at me and said, "I think we have to try."_

_I guess my silence was seen as approval because Dylan smiled and said, "Okay then, here's the plan."_
_Chapter 44_

_A Surprise Gift_

The day after the dogs attacked the girls was a busy one for Matt. Even though there had been no sign of the feeders during the night, it was still his main priority to make the farm as secure as possible. He had to assume that eventually the creatures would roam further afield in search of fresh blood, and that the farm would be under threat. He also needed to be prepared for human survivors who might see the farm as a valuable resource and try to take it from them. Not everyone in the post-apocalyptic world would be playing by the rules. The evil Brock had been a perfect example of that type.

Matt pondered these thoughts as he considered the consequences of leaving Montana and Gabby at the farm while he went into town to gather supplies. He had tried to convince the girls to come with him, but Montana insisted on staying behind at the farm so that Gabby could start her school program and settle into her new home. After some discussion, Matt could see her point and agreed that the feeders would probably not be a threat during daylight hours. He made Montana agree to stay near the house, though, and carry the shotgun if she went outside. Matt promised he would find her another weapon while he was in town, and return as soon as possible.

-

The works depot of the Millfield County Council consisted of a large fenced yard filled with the sheds, vehicles and the heavy machinery required to maintain local infrastructure such as roads, parks and public buildings. When he arrived at the yard, the front gate was locked, so he assumed there would be no feeders inside. The event, which had created this nightmare, had occurred sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning last week, which meant that the depot would have been closed at the time. He thought it would be safe to wander around and take whatever he needed without being concerned that he would stumble upon a nest of angry feeders. After he used his bolt cutters from the toolbox to cut the padlocked chain on the gate, he headed to the main building where he hoped to find the keys for the equipment he required. He located the main door, and kicked it in after a few attempts, then stepped into a room with a long counter, that guarded row upon row of shelves full of hardware and tools. This was obviously the main store. He went straight behind the counter to search for the keys for the heavy machines. Eventually, in a small office behind the rows of shelves he found what he was looking for – a wall full of carefully tagged keys, corresponding to the machines in the yard.

Matt read through the tags, and realised that almost everything he required to help fortify the farm would be available in this depot. There were keys for fuel trucks, water tankers, generators, portable arc lights, cranes, diggers, tractors, tip trucks, cement trucks, heavy rollers and even a couple of boats. Matt stood scratching his head as he looked at the bewildering collection of keys and wondered which one he should use first. After careful consideration he made his choice and took the key from the hook before reading the plastic tag again. Yes, that was the one. When he went back outside to the yard it didn't take him long to find the vehicle he had selected; it was one of the largest on the lot, after all.

-

Montana was familiarising herself with the vegetable garden when she heard the rumble of a large vehicle coming up the road. "Gabby come quick! Matt's back."

Gabby flew from inside the house, slamming the screen door as she excitedly pushed it open. She joined Montana in the front yard and stood side by side and waited for the vehicle to appear from behind the grove of pines that lined the front boundary of the farm. They watched the road eagerly as the crunch of downshifting gears signalled the arrival of the exhaust-belching beast from behind the trees.

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Montana, as Gabby jumped up and down on the spot, squealing with excitement. "Look what he's brought!"

"It's the bookmobile!" she screamed. "He got us the bookmobile!"

Matt applied the brakes with an explosive hiss, just short of the front fence and gave the girls a wave. Gabby sprinted to the mobile library and reached the cab just as Matt was climbing down. He stood in front of his prize and spread out his arms. "I brought you a classroom!" he said, grinning like it was the best gift ever.

"I love it!" shrieked Gabby, and hugged the teenage boy around the waist.

-

Montana took Matt back to Council Depot in his mother's car, and he went back to the office and found the keys to the largest truck he felt he could manage. By the early afternoon he had delivered nine portable arc lights, a tanker full of enough materials to begin his fencing project. When Montana dropped him back at the council yard for the last time to pick up his ute, he told her that he might be a little late home, because there were a few more tasks he needed to complete in town.

After she dropped him at the depot, he retrieved his car and locked the yard with a new chain and padlock. In this new world, there would be no more manufacturing of industrial machinery, so he needed to look after the things that could provide him with security and comfort. He knew he was being a little over-cautious, but it certainly wouldn't do any harm. When he was satisfied that the depot was as secure as it could be, he drove into town and parked in the main street.

Nothing moved, and even though he knew the buildings were probably inhabited by sleeping feeders, he felt safe because the sun was still reasonably high in the sky. He reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the can of fluorescent spray paint he'd brought with him from the depot and climbed out of the car. As he walked over to large beige sandstone wall that was the front of the Millfield Police Station, he thought about his own role in this deadly and disturbing world. Even though the event had occurred only a week ago, he was already having difficulty remembering what his life had been like before. The traumatic and emotionally draining episodes of the past seven days had become his new reality. The memory of his parents and his love for them would never die, but now it seemed swamped and somehow diminished as he accepted the responsibility for keeping Gabby and Montana safe. He took a deep breath and sighed as he walked up the steps of the Police Station.

He stood at the top of the stairs and shook the paint can. The steel ball inside rattled around like a bone as he mixed the paint thoroughly. He aimed at the large glass doors and wrote, as neatly as he was able:

"My name is Matt. I survived. I live at Two Hills - 10 kms west on Millfield Road."

Matt stood back and admired his handiwork. It wasn't very hip-hop, he thought, but at least it was legible. He walked back to his ute and drove home.

The rest of the day was spent setting up the arc lights around the house and finding the best position for the bookmobile. Montana and Gabby watched and offered suggestions as he considered one spot and then another, but finally he decided to place it under the large pepper tree near the front of the house, where it would get shade in summer and sunshine in winter. He unlocked the door and Montana and Gabby hurried inside to explore their new classroom. When Matt joined them he was surprised to see that it was more than just shelves filled with books. There was a little corner with beanbag chairs and a TV, and up against another wall were a table and two chairs where you could sit and write, or colour in.

"This is perfect," said Montana, smiling at Matt. "I can't believe you did this for her."

He returned her smile and plopped down onto a Sesame Street beanbag. "I did it for all of us. Hey Gabby, why don't you pick a story and bring it over for us to read together?"

So, as the sun traversed slowly across the perfect blue sky, Gabby and Montana sat on beanbags and listened in silence while Matt read _"Oh, The Places You'll Go" by Dr Seuss._ The sun threw dappled light onto the wall and the only sound, apart from Matt's voice, was the birds as they chittered in the pepper tree outside. When Matt finished the story, he closed the book and placed it on the floor beside him. For a few short seconds nobody spoke as they remembered how the world once was, and hoped it could be again.

Gabby looked at Matt. "Can you read a story every day?"

"Of course I can. I think books need to be read more than ever now, don't you?
Chapter 45

Dylan's Story

Bonnie and Sally sat on the low concrete wall outside the warehouse waiting for Dylan to return. He'd left ten minutes ago to find the items he needed to set the warehouse alight, so they sat with their weapons on their laps chatting to each other as the hiders lay just metres away, unaware of their impending fate.

"You really like him don't you?" Bonnie asked.

"Is it that obvious? I'm trying not to look too desperate, but yes, I really like him."

"I thought so. He's very handsome."

"Yep."

Bonnie paused and looked at Sally, as if sensing doubt. "What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

"No, not really. I don't know how to feel about all this violence and zombie killing. I've always been a pacifist, and liked boys who felt the same way, but Dylan seems so eager to kill these creatures. I don't know; I'm just confused I guess."

Bonnie put her gun down on the wall and took Sally's hand.

"You needn't worry. Dylan's not a psychopath. His motivation for killing these creatures is very personal and very understandable, once you know what's causing the hatred."

Sally looked at Bonnie forlornly. "I thought I did know him. We've ... well, you know, made love. Why has he told you things he hasn't told me? I thought we were close. I thought he loved me too."

Bonnie smiled. "Don't panic. Dylan and I have some things in common. He told me some stuff that he wanted to get off his chest. He probably doesn't want to scare you just yet with his emotional baggage. It's hard for him to open up old wounds, but you need to give him a chance. He'll tell you when he's ready. It's been very hard for him."

"Oh," said Sally, wondering how Dylan's past could be any more traumatic than anybody else's, including her own, but just as she was about to raise that point, they heard the sound of a car as it approached their position by the warehouse door.

"Here he is," said Bonnie, picking up her gun.

The truck came around the corner, and Dylan gave them a little wave. He had secured a Post Office van and pulled it up at the top of the ramp near the warehouse. He climbed from the cab. "Any movement from inside?"

"Nothing," replied Bonnie as they went to the truck to see what Dylan had brought back.

He opened the back doors and they could see an array of large glass bottles, a pile of bed sheets, a large bottle of liquid detergent and two metal drums.

"The petrol was the hardest thing to find," he said. "The bowsers won't work without electricity. I found these in the back of a mechanics shop. Everything else I got in a motel down the block."

"What's it for?" asked Sally.

"Well, the idea is Molotov cocktails, but I've only read about them so I'm not sure if they'll work, so I have the van as a backup. Between both of them we should be able to make a pretty decent fire."

Dylan explained his idea to the girls, and the next twenty minutes were spent filling the glass bottles with a mixture of petrol and liquid detergent, before stuffing a piece of petrol-soaked bed sheet tightly into the neck as a fuse. The other part of the plan was to park the Post Office van hard against the roller door at the bottom of the warehouse, before setting the petrol tank alight.

"What happens if the warehouse doesn't burn?" Bonnie asked, as they lined up their homemade bombs on the concrete wall.

"I don't think that's likely," Dylan replied. "This place is really old. The floors and internal frames are all timber. Once the fire takes hold, there'll be no stopping it. We'll need to get away really quickly. And even if the whole warehouse doesn't burn down completely, I think the zombies will be killed by smoke inhalation, or in the crush as they all try to escape through that one roller door."

Bonnie looked over at Sally, who was wearing a concerned expression. "What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"This is horrific. It's what? Inhumane or something! God, I know they're zombies now, but a week ago these were people with families and normal lives. I have a real problem with just locking them in a building and burning them alive. It makes me feel like I'm the savage."

Sally looked to Bonnie for support as Dylan threw down the rag he'd been wiping his hands with and replied angrily. "Look! Don't you think I know that! Do you think this is some game? I'm playing the macho post-apocalyptic warrior? I fucking hate this, but I want every one of these things dead, and I don't care if they die painfully."

Sally was surprised. She knew that Dylan possessed a fierce abhorrence of these creatures, but she had never heard him express it so openly before. Just when she thought his tirade had finished, however, he continued, with a revelation so shocking that it made her shiver.

"Before this fucking event, I had a family! Before this event I had a daughter! I had a daughter! Do you understand?"

He stared at Sally, as if challenging her to continue with her argument, then went on, "Before last week I probably would have been on your side. Deep down you're right aren't you? It's barbaric behaviour. Burning them while they sleep! I mean, it's not like these freaks asked to be turned into zombies, is it? They can't help it; but you've seen what they can do. You seen the destruction they've caused!"

He paused and Sally could see the angst, etched clearly on his face like a death mask. He wants to tell me something, she thought, as Dylan looked into her eyes, conflicted and hurt. There was a tangible sense of electricity between the trio, as they waited to see if Dylan would share his story or continue to hide it away like a secret tumor. There didn't seem to be a sound in the world except for Dylan's ragged breathing. Then, as a thousand creatures lay silently inside the warehouse waiting for death, he began to speak.

"I'm a father. I have, I mean had, a three-year-old daughter. She was my angel."

He paused. "I may not be able to do this," he said, giving Bonnie and Sally a look that almost broke their hearts. Then he took a deep breath and carried on.

"Her name was Maxine. I called her Maxy. She was the product of a one-night stand with a woman I should have stayed away from. My daughter was like a divine gift to me. I lived for her. Her mother and I hated each other, but the courts said I could see Maxy once a week, so I did. I wanted her to know her dad, and I wanted her to know that I was a good dad, who loved her. I had custody from six o'clock on Saturday nights to four on Sunday afternoons. It was the best time of the week for me. We both looked forward to it. We always did something fun and I never talked about her mother. It was just time for us."

"Anyway, I'd been working the night shift on the Friday of the event at 'Snakebites', a hipster bar in the city. I thought it was weird that night when people started drifting out of the place a bit earlier than usual but I didn't think much of it because I'd been so busy. Now I know that they were going to find somewhere to hibernate, but at the time I just thought they were going home to bed. I was in the cool room getting more beer and when I came out the other two bar staff had left, and I was alone. I was really pissed off! I thought they'd just gone home and left me to close up the bar without telling me! By that time it was about three in the morning. Anyway, I left a note for the manager to see when he came in the next day, telling him how pissed off I was, and closed up and headed home on my bike. The streets were really quiet, but I just thought it was one of those quirky things that happen sometimes. When I got home I was still wired from being at work so I reheated some Chinese food, had a few drinks and watched a movie. I went to bed as the sun was coming up and slept until around four in the afternoon, like I usually would on a Saturday. Then I woke up, had some 'breakfast' and tidied up the flat before it was time to go and pick up Maxy."

In Dennington a dog barked, but Bonnie and Sally's attention didn't deviate from Dylan's tortured face.

"Well, as soon as I went outside that afternoon I knew something had happened. The streets were empty - you guys know how it was. I got on my motorbike and rode to Maxy's house as fast as I could. When I got there it was just starting to get dark. I kicked the door in and ran to her bedroom."

Sally didn't think that this strong man, who she was falling in love with, would be able to carry on. His face crumpled and tears welled in his eyes, but he continued to speak in a faltering, despairing voice.

"She was on her bed surrounded by her fluffy animals. Her mother ... that fucking hideous thing...that beast...was on her...it was...it was...the worst thing I'd ever seen. It stopped for a moment and looked at me. It might have smiled. I'm not really sure about that because of all the blood."

He made a choking sound as Sally came over and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

Bonnie sobbed in the background as Dylan finished his story. "I grabbed the closest thing I could find. I think it was a coat-rack from the hallway. I beat that thing that had been my daughter's mother to death with it. I didn't hold back. It tried to kill me too, but at that point I was crazier than it was. It didn't have a chance."

Sally hugged him and began to understand his pain and why he held such hatred for these creatures. He returned her embrace fiercely as Bonnie came over to join them. After a few moments they released themselves from their bond of grief and stood staring resolutely at the warehouse. Bonnie was the first to speak.

"We must never let them own our world."
Chapter 46

The Fence

The next few days were almost pleasant for Matt, Montana and Gabby. They saw no feeders and the sun shone brightly while the girls developed an informal work schedule, which included tending the vegetable patch, doing the housework and attending school in the bookmobile for a couple of hours. While they went about their routine, Matt worked on the fence. He toiled from dawn each day until dusk, pausing only to take a drink and eat the snacks that Gabby brought him "to keep his energy up". At around twelve all three would stop and enjoy lunch together in the shade of the front porch with a big jug of iced tea and sandwiches. It was on the second day when Montana finally asked the question they had all been pondering for days.

"Matt, why haven't we seen any feeders?"

He put his glass of tea down on the table and picked up a sandwich. "That's a good question, isn't it? Maybe they have enough to eat in town. Maybe they're feeding on each other."

"Do you really think that's the explanation?"

"No, not really," he replied, with a mouth full of sandwich.

She looked at him and waited for more information. When none was forthcoming, she pushed. "Well? Why haven't we seen any feeders? They've had plenty of time to get this far haven't they? They should be all over us by now, don't you think?"

Matt chewed on his sandwich. Montana watched him; waiting for an explanation for something that they all knew defied logic.

"I've been thinking about that a lot while I've been putting up that fence," he replied. "There is one possibility that I just can't get out of my head, even though it seems ridiculous." He paused and took a breath. "I'll just say it okay? I think they're staying away from Gabby."

He had been mentally preparing himself for Montana to burst into laughter when she heard his radical theory, but was surprised when she simply stated, "Yes, I think you're right."

"What? You think so to? Why?"

"I can't really explain. It's just a really strong feeling I have. What about you? Why do you think they're avoiding her?"

"Mainly because of the fact that she survived in that house on her own for two days; also the lack of other corpses around her street. They wanted nothing to do with her. Also I think we would have seen feeders here at the farm by now."

"Okay. What does that mean for us then? Do we still need a fence or what?"

"Yes, because we don't know if their fear of her is permanent. If circumstances change, we'll need some form of defense."

Gabby had been preoccupied with a book while Matt and Montana discussed the strange absence of feeders, but now she put it down. "Why do you call them feeders Matt?"

He looked at Montana and then at Gabby. "Well honey, I call them that because I've seen them feeding. They don't eat like us, though. They're much angrier. Feeding and sleeping is the only thing they seem to do now. When they're asleep I call them hiders."

"Oh", she said. "I though it might be something else."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought it was because they feed on our unhappiness."

She picked up her book and started to read again as Montana and Matt exchanged glances.

-

After lunch Matt went back to his fencing while Montana and Gabby cleared up the lunch mess. He could have used Montana's help with the huge task, but he knew that her leg was still sore from the dog bite and he didn't want Gabby left alone and bored while they worked on such a major project. Building and repairing fences, however, was hardwired into the DNA of all farmers so, even though it was occasionally awkward and strenuous doing the work by himself, Matt understood exactly what was required to create a barrier that would be strong and durable. Once he had the fence finished, he would probably spend some time electrifying it, but for the time being, the strong chain links, and the barbed wire at the top would be sufficient. As he worked he thought about what Gabby had said at lunch. Were the feeders something more than just animals in human form? Did they really feed on the misery of the survivors? Matt knew that it would take much more time before these questions could be answered with any authority or confidence.

-

In the middle of the afternoon on the third day of their return to 'Two Hills', while the girls were planting seeds in the vegetable garden, Matt ran out of premixed cement to fix the last couple of posts into the ground. He told Montana to stay near the house while he was gone, and took the big truck back into town to get the supplies he needed. When he arrived at the depot he unlocked the gate and parked the truck near the store. He loaded it up with bags of concrete, relocked the gate, and was ready to go home when he thought of a couple of things he wanted to check on while he was in town. He climbed into the cab of the truck and headed in the direction of the pub where he had found his first nest over a week ago.

-

Matt stood outside the Criterion Hotel, and marvelled at the change his hometown had undergone since the event. The place was already beginning to look disheveled and dusty, and a few vigorous weeds were beginning to poke their little green heads out in places where somebody would have normally plucked them from the earth in the name of order and tidiness. Pieces of litter were blowing here and there, and the corpses, which had been so bloody and soft just a week ago, had been picked clean to the bones and were rapidly drying out in the sunshine. Soon Matt would feel compelled to collect them and bury them in a mass grave – but not until his fence was built. He walked to the pub.

He reached the bottom of the cellar stairs and knew immediately from the smell that his hunch had been correct. The feeders weren't using this nest any more. He cast his flashlight around the empty space, then turned and went back up into the daylight. Matt closed his eyes and concentrated. He sensed the town's emptiness, just as he had sensed that the feeders were avoiding Gabby for unknown reasons. The feeders had moved on, and the town once more belonged to the humans if they wanted it. He shook his head in bewilderment and climbed into the cab of the truck. He wanted to check one more place before heading back to the farm.

Matt pulled up outside the Police Station and received a shock even more severe than finding out that the feeders had left down. The glass doors, on which he had painted his name and address for other survivors to find, were smashed, and the broken glass was strewn all over the front steps of the building. For a moment he couldn't understand what he was looking at, or what it meant. Was this a random act of the feeders as they left town or something else? He looked up and down the street but could see no other new damage. The doors had been targeted because of the sign he had painted on them. Then, as a chill raced down his spine, Matt realised what it meant. Somebody knew where he lived, but hadn't wanted anyone else to know! He raced to the truck and thought of how vulnerable Montana and Gabby were back at the farm by themselves. First the dog attack and now this! He pushed the truck as hard as it would go, and prayed that they were safe, promising himself that he would not leave them alone again until the fence was finished.
Chapter 47

The Burning

Dylan had parked the Post Office van hard up against the broken roller door, and they stood in front of the warehouse with three Molotov cocktails at their feet, ready to roll into the feeders' lair. A long piece of fuel-soaked bed sheet snaked from the van's petrol tank, waiting to be lit, as a thousand or more zombies lay sleeping inside the old brick building, just moments from a painful, merciless death.

They had discussed the logistics of carrying out the gruesome task in the safest and most efficient way, and eventually decided on a group effort to get the conflagration started. Dylan would light the fuse to the van's petrol tank, then run back up the ramp, where they would each take one of the petrol-filled Molotovs by the neck and fling it down the ramp, under the van and into the warehouse, where it would shatter, causing a small explosion. As soon as each of them had flung their mini-bomb, they would retreat as fast as they could to the end of the street, where the car was parked, and monitor the success of their operation in relative safety.

As they stood in readiness, breathing heavily with anxiety and dread, there was a realisation that if this action went wrong their lives would be at risk. Sally and Dylan had seen first-hand the violence of the zombies when threatened, and could only hope that the car-park incident in the city was not repeated here. Minutes earlier Dylan had done one last sweep around the building and was confident that there were no escape routes.

Bonnie looked at her younger companions, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

Sally replied with a nervous laugh, "Absolutely not."

Dylan was more resolute, however, and walked down the ramp towards the parked van.

"Let's do this," he barked.

He reached the bottom of the ramp, turned and gave his final instructions to Sally and Bonnie, who were waiting nervously.

"As soon as I light the fuse, be ready to light and throw your bottles. Don't wait until I'm at the top of the ramp, okay? Like we talked about remember; a big underarm throw. Make sure you slide it under the truck!"

They nodded seriously.

Dylan took a deep breath and reached into the front pocket of his black jeans for the cigarette lighter he'd obtained earlier for just this purpose. He glanced at the sheet hanging from the fuel tank, and then nodded one last time at the women, before flicking the lighter on. He held the naked flame at arms length, and then paused for just a second, before touching it to the fuse, where it whooshed into life. With the bed sheet smoking, and flames snaking towards the petrol tank, Dylan turned and sprinted up the ramp as fast as he could, where Bonnie and Sally were now lighting their own fuses.

"Go! Go!" Dylan screamed as he reached them.

He crouched to light the fuse for his Molotov, and saw Sally take three paces down the ramp before bowling her device toward the warehouse. The bottle skittered down the concrete incline before slamming into the rear tyre of the van where it lay, unbroken with the wick still alight. Dylan was screaming at Bonnie, "Throw! Throw!" and she did with a strength and accuracy that surprised them all. Her bottle slid down the ramp with astonishing speed, past Sally's still-burning effort, between the wheels of the truck, and into the belly of the warehouse. Dylan's bomb followed Bonnie's as if by remote control and within a split second the sound of shattering glass told them that at least one of the devices had fulfilled its' destiny. Only a few seconds had passed since Dylan had lit the fuse on the van, but it was as if time were standing still as they raced up the concrete incline, and away from the explosion that was as inevitable as it would be devastating.

With the warehouse beginning to burn, and an unexploded bomb in the shape of a Post Office van behind them, they ran to the far end of the street, and safety. Just as they reached the corner an almighty explosion pounded their eardrums, and they scrabbled around the corner and threw themselves onto the ground as shards of glass and pieces of razor-sharp, metal fragments whistled past the edge of the building.

"Shit!" yelled Dylan, grinning manically, "That was way too close! Is everyone okay?"

Bonnie and Sally were slumped on the ground sucking in big breaths. They ignored his question and looked at each other in disbelief as the roar of the fire resonated in their ears. Finally, Bonnie spoke as she stared angrily at Dylan. "Did you know that would go up so quick?"

He looked at her warily, unsure exactly of how much trouble he was in. "No. I thought we'd have a bit longer than that."

"That's a relief, because we were about one second away from death you idiot! From now on no more vigilante bullshit! Okay?"

Dylan realised that his personal vendetta against the zombies had almost cost the lives of the only people in the world he cared about. He went over and sat down beside them as another small explosion was heard around the corner and said, "Okay. I'm sorry. From now on we mind our own business, and let the zombies sleep; until we find your daughter anyway."

As Sally watched Bonnie's face she felt sure that the older woman was going to give Dylan a good tongue-lashing. Instead, she shook her head tiredly and said, "Fine. I guess that will have to do. My daughter's name is Gabby, by the way."

"Yes. Until we find Gabby."

Dylan stood up and went to the edge of the building and listened before cautiously poking his head around the corner.

"Do you think that's a good idea?" asked Sally, throwing Bonnie a concerned glance.

"Hey, come and check this out!" Dylan ordered, as the women pulled themselves wearily to their feet.

The heat from the blaze warmed their faces as they peered around the corner of the building. It seemed their strategy had worked perfectly. The building was burning savagely from the ground floor and it was clear that the entire building, and its' occupants, would be consumed within minutes. When they were confident there would be no more explosions, they moved from cover and watched from a safe distance. At one point Sally asked if they could hear screaming under the roar of the fire, but neither Bonnie nor Dylan could confirm her notion. After a minute or so watching the funeral pyre, they were about to leave when Sally grabbed Bonnie's arm. "Look!"

She was pointing to one of the boarded-up windows on the first floor of the warehouse. A large piece of plywood that had been screwed onto the window to keep vandals out was vibrating as if something or someone behind it was beating on it like drum.

"Could they get up there?" Dylan asked.

"There must have been stairs we didn't notice," said Sally. "Let's get out of here just in case."

"No, let's just watch for a minute. I'll get my gun."

The fire became more intense, and when Dylan had returned with his gun, a corner of the board in the first floor window was being forced away from the frame. The trapped feeders were pushing on it, from inside as they attempted to preserve their abominable lives. The piece of plywood flexed acutely, and it was obvious that it would only take one or two more shoves for it to break from its' anchors and plummet to the street below.

"Be ready to run for the car," Dylan ordered as they waited for the drama to unfold.

Then the piece of ply finally gave way as the zombies heaved with one final effort, sending the makeshift window and three of the creatures flying headlong into the pavement below. Sally, Bonnie and Dylan didn't hear the thud of their skulls as they collided with the unforgiving concrete, but thick streamers of blood squirted extravagantly as the zombies' heads popped like overripe watermelons. In the window, silhouetted against the raging furnace behind them, scores of creatures crammed, searching for fresh air and a possible escape route. It only took a couple of seconds for the inevitable to occur, however, when the crush of zombies became too much, and the closest to the opening were forced out, falling to their death on the street below.

The first few creatures that hit the ground died immediately from the impact, but once there was a pile of six or seven bodies under the window, sudden death became less certain. The next few that jumped (or were pushed) received a softer landing and lay twitching on top of the pile with brain or spinal injuries, while others threw themselves around grotesquely as they tried to stand and run away on broken legs. Dylan had to shoot two of the creatures when it looked as if they might escape the bedlam, but after there a significant pile of dead zombies on the ground below the window (the last few covered with blackened, blistered skin) the flood stopped as fire consumed the structure, sending dark plumes of smoke high into the midday sky. Nobody mentioned the smell, which reminded them of an afternoon barbecue.

They walked away from the destruction and climbed into the car. Dylan started the engine as Bonnie and Sally swigged from their water bottles. He pulled away from the holocaust and started to shift up through the gears; grateful to be leaving the horrors of the zombie massacre behind him. As he turned the corner back into the main street, however, he was forced to a stop by a group of around ten people who were standing in the middle of the road, about forty metres in front of the car.

"Shit!" said Sally, who was in the seat beside Dylan. "Marauders?"

"No," he replied. "I don't think so."

Bonnie and Sally looked at the unexpected crowd ahead, as Dylan slowly drove forward until he was about ten metres away from them. He eased his foot onto the brake and turned off the ignition. As he wound down his window, he heard Bonnie clicking the safety of her gun off and nodded in silent approval. They studied the group, and it was obvious that they were not marauders. They stood in the middle of the road, expressionless and unmoving, as their leader, a man in his fifties, with a scruffy beard and dark circles under his eyes, approached the car. He stopped a couple of paces away and addressed Dylan, who had remained in the car.

"What happened over there?" he asked, motioning toward the warehouse.

Dylan looked at the crowd, who hadn't moved, then back at the man before answering. "We found a nest of zombies in a warehouse. We set fire to it and killed them."

The man looked behind him towards his party and nodded his head. There was no reaction from the group, except perhaps for a shuffling of feet from a few of them.

"We knew about them," the man said quietly as he turned his attention back to Dylan.

"Oh."

"We think it's best to leave them alone. They seem to be on their way somewhere. It's safer to just let them go."

"Well, they're dead now, so no problem, right?" said Dylan, with a slightly a puzzled expression on his face.

"Maybe," the man replied, as he turned his back on the car and walked slowly back to his ragged group of followers.

Dylan, Bonnie and Sally watched him walk away and then looked at each other in disbelief.

"What a bunch of weirdos!" Sally blurted.

"Absolutely", agreed Dylan. "Let's get out of here."

As Dylan started the ignition, the group split into two as he drove slowly between them, and away from the town of Dennington.

"I don't even want to think what that was about," he said.

"We are living in very interesting times," said Sally, shaking her head.

Chapter 48

Panic

When Matt spray-painted the directions to 'Two Hills' on the doors of the Police Station, it never occurred to him that he was putting himself and the girls in danger. Now his well-meaning attempt to reach out to other survivors had backfired, and he felt responsible. The ten-minute trip back from Millfield had felt like hours, such was his feeling of dread, so when Matt reached the farm he stopped the truck as close as he could to the house and jumped down from the cab, before sprinting frantically towards the front door. He was halfway across the yard, when the screen door swung open with a squeak and Montana stepped out, with Gabby not far behind.

"Hello," she said. "You weren't gone long."

"Is everything okay?" he blurted. "Have you seen anyone?"

"No. Should we have?"

Matt's relief was profound. "No. I guess not. I think someone's been in town, so we'll need to keep an eye out until the fence is finished."

He was puffing as he followed the girls up the stairs, and before he entered the house he turned and surveyed the tree line in the distance. When he was sure that he couldn't see anything unusual, he headed indoors.

They sat at the kitchen table while Matt described the emptiness he'd found in town, and the smashed doors of the Police Station. Montana was relieved that the feeders had moved on, but was equally concerned about the possibility of hostile survivors in the vicinity. They agreed it would be best if they stayed together until the fence was finished, and that they needed to be extra vigilant at all times. The concern on Gabby's face was clear, but after Montana hugged her and told her that she was safe, the girl cheered up and asked if Montana would take her to the classroom to read.

"Good idea," said Matt, as he stood up and headed to the front door. "I have a fence to finish."

-

By the time Matt had concreted the last metal post into the ground, it was late in the afternoon and he was tired. If everything went according to his plans, he would have the wire fixed to the supports by this time tomorrow afternoon, and the farm would be relatively secure. Providing they could get through tonight without incident, he felt that tomorrow they would be able relax somewhat, and begin to rebuild their lives. He walked towards the large arc lights that had been set up at the front of the house, and studied the countryside that surrounded the farm. He wondered if the person (or people) who had smashed the doors of the Police Station were hiding and watching them. He tried to convince himself that it was just a wanton act of vandalism, but after the events of the last week he knew that anything was possible. He started up the generators, which flooded the area in front of the farm in light. Then he went inside to see what the girls were up to.

Montana had the fire roaring and was in the kitchen peeling potatoes at the kitchen table while Gabby sat beside her, drawing in a large pad. Matt sat down with her. "What are you drawing sweetheart?"

"I'm drawing a picture of mummy. See?" She held it out for Matt and Montana.

"It's very good."

"It's a present for when she gets here."

Matt and Montana looked at each other, not sure how to deal with the lie they believed they were cultivating. Finally Matt spoke, "Gabby honey, as soon as the fence is finished we can look for mummy, but maybe she'll be too hard to find. Lots of people have turned into those feeders, and maybe your mummy has too, sweetheart. You know we might never find her."

The little girl looked at Matt and replied confidently, "No she's okay. She's on her way here with some friends. She's coming home."

"How can you know that?" Montana asked, shaken.

"I don't know," she said. "I just know things now. Maybe I dream them. I'm not sure, but I know mummy's coming."

It was Matt's turn to ask a question. "Do you know when she'll arrive?"

She thought about it for a second, and then responded tentatively, "No ... I don't know that. I just know she's _trying_ to come. It might be hard to get here."

Montana stood up and took the peeled and cut potatoes to the saucepan of water, which was boiling on the stove. "Come on Gabby, let's get dinner on. I'm starving!"

"Me too", said the girl, seeming to forget about her mother for the moment.

After dinner they worked together to clean up the kitchen. Matt and Montana tucked Gabby into bed for the night and went to the front veranda, where they sat with cups of coffee and stared into the brightly lit forest. The low-pitched drone of the generators provided the backdrop for their conversation as the night turned cooler. Montana was wrapped in a blanket, in contrast to Matt, who was still wearing a sweat-stained t-shirt from earlier in the day.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked.

"No, not really. I love this weather, when the days get shorter and it's cold enough to light the fire. I have more energy to get jobs done around the farm. Mum loved it too. She used to say she felt more civilised during the colder months."

He looked at Montana. "I wonder what that means now? Civilised, I mean."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, think of all of the things that we've lost since the event. Cities, movies, books, the Internet, TV, sport, restaurants, shopping - it's all gone. All of that effort and endeavour is just history - something that humans did for a few thousand years. It's all about survival now, isn't it? All of that other stuff is just so much ... what? ... Luxury, I suppose. Nobody will have time for those things now. Maybe there aren't enough survivors left to even try."

"I think you're wrong actually."

Matt turned and looked at her, surprised. Montana laughed.

"What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Do you think everything you say is true?"

"Well ..."

"Listen Matt, I might be blonde and cute, but I'm not stupid. You're right about some of the things we've lost, but people will find a way to create a civilisation. They always have. I remember learning about the Holocaust in history class. Even in the horror of the concentration camps, people still wrote poetry and sang songs. Gabby still wants to read books, doesn't she? Hey, maybe one day she'll write one. Who knows?"

Matt looked at Montana with a puzzled expression. "Do I know you?" he asked, smiling at her with renewed affection.

"Not yet," she replied, with a wink. "But you never know your luck, do you?"

-

A couple of hours later, Matt lay in bed listening to the hum of the generators outside, and analysed the conversation he'd had with Montana earlier. He thought about Montana sleeping in his parents' room nearby. Had he made too many assumptions about her? Was his judgement of her true personality clouded by his initial impression of her? Most of the girls he had known seemed fairly one-dimensional. He had never connected with any of them on anything other than a superficial level. But maybe he was the shallow one, categorising people according to his stereotyped expectations. How did he know what was in Montana's head? He was confused. Was he genuinely attracted to her, or was it simply a case of 'the last girl on earth'? He felt so stupid for going over these childish thoughts while Montana was probably sound asleep in her bed, oblivious to his angst. He rolled over and closed his eyes tightly and tried to force himself to go to sleep.

"This is ridiculous!" he thought, as he twisted back the other way to find a position that might help him drift off. A silhouette was framed in the doorway.

"I can't sleep," a soft voice said. "Can I crawl in with you?"

"Oh. Sure. Is everything okay?

"I need to hold somebody," she said, as Matt shuffled across in his bed.

"Face the other way," she requested.

He did as asked and rolled towards the window once more. He felt her arm go around his waist and when he sensed the silky smooth skin of her breasts on his back he thought it was the most pleasant thing he'd ever felt in his life.

"Thanks Matt," she said, sighing intimately into his ear.

"That's okay," he replied, staring wide-eyed at the pale rectangle of the bedroom window.

Outside, in the dark, beyond the lights, a single pair of eyes watched the house.
Chapter 49

To the West

The sun was still high in the sky as they drove west, heading away from the weirdness of Dennington. Bonnie sat quietly in the back seat of the charred Landcruiser, thinking only of finding Gabrielle. As she scanned the countryside, she wondered about the small group of survivors they had just encountered. Why were they so ambivalent about the zombies who had chosen to stop in their town for the night? She could understand that they wanted to avoid conflict, but their attitude seemed to be one of grudging acceptance, rather than revulsion or fear. Could it really be that some survivors would tolerate these savage creatures? Surely the human race wouldn't learn to accept the beasts as having a right to live alongside them as equals, or even, worse, as superiors? Bonnie shivered as these possibilities went through her mind, and almost didn't notice as the car began to slow down.

Dylan brought the car to a stop in the middle of the road and pointed at a large sign that towered above them. It had been erected to help motorists find a prominent tourist attraction. It said "Delano Caves 30 km. Turn left 3 km."

"That's where they're going I reckon," said Dylan.

Sally nodded. "Yeah, it feels right, doesn't it?"

"They're regrouping," Bonnie added. "For those things to have a long term future, they'll need to breed, for one thing. They haven't morphed into zombies just to die out within a few weeks, that's for sure. I think they're following some kind of herding instinct so they get together and develop some kind of social pack, like wolves. Now that the initial frenzy is over, the ones in the country need to band together. The ones in the cities are probably already in big groups."

"I think you're right," said Sally. "That second night on my balcony convinced me they were becoming something more than just random killers. A kind of hierarchy was developing, even then. What do you think Dylan? Do you think the ones we burned were heading to the caves?"

"Maybe. Let's assume they are, anyway. Whatever the case, it doesn't change our plans does it? So let's get to Millfield and find Gabrielle."

As they climbed back into the car and Sally said, "Hey, Dylan. I'm starving. Can we stop somewhere for food soon?"

"I'm hungry too," agreed Bonnie. "Let's stop at the next farmhouse and see what we can find, but not for long, okay? Gabby's waiting."

"Sure," said Dylan, as he put his foot on the accelerator and headed west.

A couple of kilometres down the road they found a little farmhouse close to the road. Dylan pulled the car into the gravel driveway and stopped as close to the front door as he could. Without discussion, they grabbed their weapons, climbed out of the car, and headed to the the house. They paused and Dylan said, "I don't expect to find any zombies in here, but let's check the usual hiding spots anyway. Be careful."

Sally and Bonnie nodded and followed him inside, where they conducted their search quickly, confirming that the house was empty.

"Right," said Bonnie. "Let's get into that kitchen and find some food."

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting on the back porch eating olives, cheese, crackers and tomatoes from the vegetable patch. Dylan had found some beers in a carton in the laundry, and they were cool enough to enjoy without having been refrigerated.

"I'm going to miss beer," he said, wistfully.

"Why?" asked Sally. "There's free beer everywhere."

"It won't last, though. Within a few months it will start to go stale, like most other things I guess. All of the things we took for granted will start to fade away because there will be no more manufacturing, no more factories, no more shops. The golden age of wasteful consumption is over. We're going to need new skills now; we're going to have to learn how to fix things, how to grow our own food and how to fight."

Nobody responded as they chewed on their packaged crackers and bottled Italian olives.

-

Ten minutes later, they were back in the car and heading towards Carswell. The mood was sombre. The massacre of the zombies in the warehouse was beginning to take an emotional toll on all of them and the emptiness of the countryside seemed to mirror the way they felt. Within a few minutes, Bonnie was sleeping on the back seat as the car pushed on through the deserted farmland. Around ten kilometres from Carswell, Dylan stopped the car in the middle of the road, stepped out onto the warm bitumen, and walked towards a fenced paddock. Sally opened her door and followed him to see what had attracted his attention.

"What are they?" she asked, putting her hand over her mouth.

"Horses."

The scattered remains of maybe a dozen animals lay around the paddock. They were ripped apart, their soft underbellies hollowed out and glistening in the sunlight. Flies crawled over them like a shimmering army, and buzzed in small clouds above their carcasses. When the feeders had sprung on these animals, they wouldn't have stood a chance. Dylan imagined how the hellish scene would have played out, then assigned it to his growing catalogue of post-apocalyptic nightmare visions.

"How long ago did this happen?" Sally asked.

"Last night, I'd say, from the freshness of the carcasses. They must have been passing through on their way to the caves and gotten hungry."

"How many of them would it take to do this?"

"Mmm. Good question. One person couldn't overpower a horse, could they? And even though these zombies, or whatever they are, seem to be getting stronger, I think there would need to be more than a hundred to kill all of these animals and eat this much in one night."

"Let's get out of here," she said. "This place is giving me the creeps."

As they climbed back into the car, Bonnie stirred. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," Dylan replied, glancing at Sally in the front seat beside him. "Toilet break. We'll be in Carswell in about five minutes, then only an hour and a half to Millfield."

"Excellent. Do we need to stop in Carswell? I'm really eager to get to Gabby as quickly as possible."

"I'll need to stop for fuel, but that shouldn't take long. We should be in Millfield an hour or so before the sun sets."

A couple of kilometres before reaching the outskirts of Carswell, they passed the turnoff for the Delano Caves. There was no need for words as the travellers each imagined the same scenario – a complex and ancient limestone cave system that was now, very possibly, a lair for thousands of primal, ultra-violent, killing machines. Their individual visions were all slightly different, but the overall concept was identical – an overcrowded, dark, damp space filled with near-naked beasts, sleeping until nightfall, when they would awake and continue the process of establishing primitive social groups, rutting savagely like dogs, and leaving the caves at night to find whatever they could to eat. In the car, nobody spoke of his or her thoughts. It was as if talking about such things might bring them bad luck.

-

Dylan stopped the car in front of a derelict used car lot. A faded sign over the office suggested that 'Big Jim' was someone you could trust.

"Here we are," said Dylan. "Beautiful Carswell. Don't go far. I'll go and find some fuel."

He headed into the prefabricated office to look for the keys to a car from which he might be able to siphon fuel. Bonnie and Sally waited outside, weapons sitting on the hood of the car just in case.

"This place seems deserted, doesn't it?" Sally observed.

"Yes ... maybe. I'm not sure. Does something seem wrong to you?"

Sally looked around the streets. She saw abandoned shops, rundown houses, and the omnipresent rotting corpses strewn here and there. "You mean apart from everything?"

Bonnie smiled, "No, I don't mean the usual kind of 'wrong'. I'm picking up a weird vibe from this place. Can you hear anything?"

Sally shook her head. "No. Nothing."

"Exactly. Listen again."

"Oh my god. You're right. Nothing. No birds, no dogs barking. It's really obvious once you notice it. It's freaky."

Bonnie nodded. "Everywhere we've been, we've heard the sounds of birds and the occasional dog barking, but nothing like this."

Sally looked over to the office. "I wish Dylan would hurry up. Where is he?"

Inside, Dylan had found the board with the keys, and was getting about to head back outside when he noticed something through a tiny back window that piqued his interest. In a junk-filled yard behind the car lot there a large metal cage that looked as if it had once been a kennel for a number of dogs. There were no animals visible now, but something on the floor of the cage that didn't seem right to him. He cupped his hands to the glass to shut out the glare of the sun, but it was no use – he couldn't quite make out what he was looking at. He wanted to take a closer look. He went back out through the only door of the office and help up the palm of his hand to Bonnie and Sally, signalling for them to wait where they were. This was followed immediately by a one-finger gesture – 'one minute'.

"Where's he going?" Sally asked.

"No idea. But I hope he doesn't take too long".

-

Behind the office, Dylan waded through long grass and stepped over a small wire fence that separated the car yard from the property behind it. Tall weeds obstructing his view of the cage, but he could see that the strong metal gate had been padlocked to keep the dogs inside. As he got closer, the smell of rotten meat gave him a clue as to what he might find - he had smelt it many times before, after all. He took the bandanna from the pocket of his jeans and placed it over his mouth. He went to the cage and looked inside, then felt the bile rising in his throat as the olives and crackers he had eaten earlier rumbled around queasily. The floor of the metal cage was a bloody mess of animal body parts. Trying to identify the origins of the gore, however, was a difficult task. It was like a Picasso abstract from hell; a kangaroo's leg bone, part of a cow skull, and chunks of cat as well.

Where were the dogs that had been fed this mess? He looked across into the darkness of the open kennel door, but could see only shadows. He needed to get closer. He walked around to the opposite end of the cage and put his eyes up to a gap in the back wall, as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The gloom receded from his vision, and shapes on the floor of the kennel began to come into focus. Dylan's face bore a puzzled expression as he tried to identify the breed of dog he could see lying on the timber floor. Then he stepped back in shock, as he realized what he was looking at. These weren't dogs! They were zombies! Sleeping zombies! Some crazy fucker had locked these things up and was keeping them as if they were pets. Holy shit!

He needed to get back to the girls and get out of here.

-

Bonnie and Sally waited impatiently at the car as Dylan scouted behind the office.

"What do you think he's doing back there?" asked Sally.

"Who knows? Probably taking a leak. I wish he'd hurry up, though. I want to get to Gabby. This place gives me the creeps."

Sally felt the same way, and was worried about Dylan being out of sight and alone for any length of time. The thought of something bad happening to him was almost too much to bear. She'd somehow managed to find a man she cared about in this nightmare world, and she couldn't imagine losing him now. She was about to suggest that they go and find him, when a voice spoke behind them.

They spun around and found themselves face to face with a chubby, greasy-haired man pointing a semi-automatic weapon at them.

"Hi ladies. I'm Brock. What can I do you for?"
Chapter 50

The Watcher

Matt woke up, and realised that Montana wasn't in the bed beside him. As the sun began to stream through his window, he lay on his back and considered what had happened the night before when Montana had crawled into bed with him. At first he couldn't move and stared at the window for what seemed like hours. Having such a beautiful girl in bed with him had aroused him, and his desire to make love to her right then was as intense as a heart attack. On the other hand, if she only wanted companionship, Matt didn't want to spoil their relationship by making a clumsy and unwanted sexual advance. After a while, though, he finally worked up the courage to turn around and make his move, but realised that she was sound asleep. Oh well, he thought, it must have been companionship she had wanted after all. He rolled back towards the window and tried to sleep.

The girls were already cleaning up their breakfast dishes when he got to the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said to them, as he tried to read Montana's mood.

"Good afternoon, more like it," she laughed good-naturedly. "Gabby and I have been up for hours, haven't we?"

"Yes Matt," Gabby chided.

"Well, I had a big day yesterday. I was really tired."

"That's why Montana said not to wake you up. She said you'd need your beauty sleep."

The girls looked at each other and tried to suppress their giggles, as Matt attempted to keep a straight face.

"Oh, it's like that is it?" he asked. "The girls ganging up on the only boy in the house?"

"Yes," said Montana. "We have you outnumbered so don't forget it."

"Yes," echoed Gabby. "Outnumbered."

"Oh well then, I guess I'd better be on my best behaviour. I don't want to get into trouble."

After breakfast Matt went out to work on the fence while the girls went to the bookmobile to do some schoolwork. The arc lights had switched themselves off automatically when the sun started to rise but Matt knew he would need to check the fuel levels again before it was dark tonight. If he got the fencing finished in time he would rig up some motion sensors so that the lights would switch on automatically if triggered. It would save fuel and they wouldn't need to put up with the noise of the generators. As he walked the perimeter of his new fence line, he tested the strength of the metal posts by grabbing each one in both hands and trying to wiggle them loose from their concrete pads. They were all rock-solid, and Matt knew that once the wire was up, the fence would provide them with a formidable barrier. He got to work unrolling the large bundles of fencing wire.

A couple of hours later, after he'd attached almost half of the wire to the posts, Gabby came running to him with a cool bottle of water and a sandwich. He took them from her little hands and walked over to the shade of the pepper tree to eat. Gabby sat beside him and watched.

"Would you like to share my snack?" he asked, as he sat down on the grass.

"No thanks. Montana gave me a cookie."

"Okay then," he said, as he took the sandwich out its plastic wrap and began to eat.

As they sat there together, silent and happy, Matt realised that in a strange way, he had a family again. His initial fear of being responsible for others had given way to something more positive, more desirable. He actually felt pleased that he had someone to care for now, and he felt proud that he was enough of a man to take on the responsibility without resentment or self-pity. He looked at Gabby, who was making daisy chains from flowers in the garden, and wondered what her future held. What would the world be like by the time she became an adult? Would humans still be living in fear of the feeders, or would the people who had turned into crazies overnight simply become a bizarre footnote in the history of humanity? Matt shook his head and realised that he was wasting valuable time with these thoughts. His mother used to call it 'wool gathering' when she caught him daydreaming, and ask him what he was thinking about. A lot of the time, he didn't even know! That was the past, though, and it was time to get back to work on the fence. As he stood up he heard the screen door bang and looked up to see Montana heading down the path towards him.

"How was your sandwich?"

"Very good, thank you. I was really hungry, actually."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it because that was the last of the bread from the freezer. From now on, if we want bread, we're going to have to make it ourselves."

"That shouldn't be too hard, but I guess we'll need to stockpile things like flour and sugar before the mice and bugs get into everything in town. There's so much work to do."

"Yes, it would be nice if we had a little more help around here. We need to be prepared for anything, don't we?"

"Absolutely. One thing I wasn't prepared for was your ... um, visit last night."

"Oh god, Matt, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to embarrass you, but I felt so lonely and scared, and you're such a nice person. Any other boys I've been out with would have taken advantage of our situation by now, but you haven't. Everything's so mixed up since the feeders. I honestly don't know how I feel about anything anymore. I think something's wrong with me."

Matt looked at her and could see tears welling up in her eyes. He stepped forward and hugged her.

"Hey. It's okay. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you. Everybody that survived this nightmare is going through the same thing. We're the lucky ones, though. We found each other. Imagine the people out there on their own, or the ones who found the wrong people. We're going to be okay. We have Gabby and we have some skills and resources to help us survive. God only knows what it must have been like for people in the cities."

He held her by the shoulders at arm's length and looked into her sad, blue eyes. "We're okay. And by the way, I loved having you with me last night. It felt wonderful, and I was kind of disappointed when you fell asleep."

She looked at him and he could see a slight smile breaking through on her tear-stained face.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Montana hugged him and buried her soft face into his grimy neck as Gabby ran up and threw her arms around their waists, "Group hug! Group hug!"

For the briefest of moments they were genuinely happy.

-

It was late in the day when Matt finished his fencing project. The construction of a functional gate, which could be locked, took up most of the afternoon, but when he closed it and he secured the chain with a padlock he felt a great sense of satisfaction. He had worked solidly for two days and he could feel the effects of the exertion crying out in every single muscle of his body. Usually on a job like this he would have worked closely with his father, and it would almost have been fun. This job, however, was pure drudgery, borne out of necessity and extreme circumstances. Montana had helped occasionally, when two pairs of hands were required, but it had mostly been a solo effort. He stood and looked at the foreboding metal construction that now circled the house. His mother would have loathed it, and it made Matt feel as though he was a prisoner, but he knew that they would feel more secure now, especially at night when the feeders were awake. As he walked up onto the veranda, the girls came out to view the fruits of his labour. Montana put her arm around his waist.

"Awesome job. You must be exhausted."

"Exhausted, but satisfied. And starving. What's for dinner?"

Montana gave him a surprised expression, "I don't know. What are you cooking?"

"Ha-ha. I can cook you know, but I think I smell something delicious coming from the kitchen. Gabby must have cooked it while you weren't looking!"

"No Matt!" yelled Gabby. "We both did! It's chicken. I helped peel the potatoes."

"You can cook tomorrow night," said Montana playfully, as she steered him into the house. "But first you need a bath. You smell really, really bad!"

-

Two hundred metres from the house, hidden amongst a dense patch of foliage near the road, a lone figure watched through binoculars as Matt put the finishing touches on his fence. When he joined the girls on the porch the figure felt a wave of jealousy flooding him. He found their happiness abhorrent. Since the event, there had been no joy for him, had there? He was living like an animal; hiding at night, scared out of his wits by the crazies, foraging for food wherever he could find it, talking to himself like a mad man, and constantly wondering whether life was even worth clinging to. And, to rub salt into his wounds, he had discovered that there were people in the world like that boy on the veranda who was receiving the affection and companionship of not one, but two people. The planet had become a stinking cesspit of violence and chaos, but this farm boy had created something good for himself, and then, out of pure greed and selfishness, had built a fence around it, so nobody else could share. It just wasn't fair and if it weren't for the girl, he knew he wouldn't be this patient. _They_ wanted her, and he would take her to them! He looked across at the sun, as it began to set behind the trees. Soon they would be out to feed. It was time to leave. He slunk away in the shadows to the spot where his bicycle waited. He climbed on and began pedalling back into town.
Chapter 51

Abduction

Dylan's mind reeled from finding the caged zombies. He hurried back to the car yard where Bonnie and Sally waited, but when he reached the lot, they were nowhere to be seen. He looked right and left frantically, hoping that they had just moved to a shadier spot, but they had vanished. He hurried over to the car and saw their weapons resting on the hood, and knew immediately that they had met with trouble - they wouldn't both wander off and leave their guns behind. Dylan had only been at the cage for a couple of minutes, so he knew they couldn't have gone far. He ran out into the street and looked one way, and then the other, hoping to see them, but nothing moved. As he stood in the deserted street, under the warm afternoon sun, he felt useless and lost. He wondered whether he should call out for them, but he immediately ruled that idea out. If marauders had kidnapped them, then he would lose the only advantage he had – surprise. He began walking quickly up the street, away from the car towards the centre of the town, when a flash of movement in the distance, reflected in a shop window, caught his eye.

-

Brock was pushing the girls along the street with the barrel of his shotgun as fast as his fat legs would allow.

"Hurry up!" he barked. "I'd hate to have to put a hole in you bitches."

Sally and Bonnie marched along in front of him, scared for their lives, but also frustrated that they'd allowed themselves to be captured by this creep, especially when they'd survived so many other dangerous situations. Halfway down the street Brock ordered them to stop, and herded them through big double doors into an old brick building. When they were inside he forced them to sit on the floor, while he kicked the doors shut, then locked them without taking his eye off the women.

"Now, sit down and don't say a fucking word until I tell you. Understand?"

Sally and Bonnie nodded, as they looked at each other for reassurance. Sally was terrified and wished Dylan was with them, but as she looked at Bonnie she could see that the older woman was more composed, despite their predicament. They were in a bank. A large open vault loomed ominously at the back of the room, and their kidnapper gestured at it, "Behave yourselves, and I might not have to put you in there. Now tell me; what the fuck do you think you're doing in my town?"

Sally didn't know what to say, but Bonnie took the lead, much to the younger girl's relief.

"We're just passing through. We have no intention of staying here. Is that cool? Can we keep moving on?"

Brock's smile chilled them both to the bone as he asked, almost to himself, "Is that cool? Is that cool? Mmm, I may have to think about that. Is that cool?"

He looked intently at them as he made a big show of thinking carefully about his answer, "Well it depends, doesn't it. Whether it's cool, I mean. You two are kind of hot, and my last girlfriend and I ..."

Bonnie and Sally waited for him to finish the sentence, understanding instinctively that whatever he said next would be either a lie or gibberish.

"Yeah, my last girlfriend. She was hot too, but I lost her."

An unpleasant change came over Brock's face as he spoke about his previous 'girlfriend'. The dark bitterness was like a mask of hate as he stared into space, reliving momentarily his delusional relationship with Montana.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Bonnie, sympathetically, trying to seem reasonable. "Did the zombies get her?"

Suddenly Brock's eyes swam back into focus, and he seemed surprised to see the women sitting before him.

"What? Zombies? No the zombies, as you call them, didn't get her. A bad man took her from me. But I'll get her back. And I'll get him too! They haven't gone far."

Bonnie tried to keep the conversation going, because she knew that while ever the crazy, fat man was talking he wouldn't be locking them into that dark cold vault, or worse.

"Hey, maybe we can help you. We have weapons. Where did the man take her? Do you know? We could go together and find them and rescue her."

"No!" he snapped. "You need to keep your mouth shut! I've been fucked over by liars enough already. You two aren't going anywhere. I'm all set up now and you whores will make a nice addition to my little family."

Bonnie and Sally looked at each other. What was this guy talking about? Family? They had seen nobody. If he had a 'family', where the hell were they?

-

Dylan's heart was beating like a crazy drum as he ran to the opposite side of the street just in time to see a large male figure go into a two-storey brick building and close the door behind him. He looked around cautiously, but there was nobody else on the street. Keeping out of view as much as possible, Dylan scurried to the bank and carefully peeked through the barred front windows.

The male figure that he'd seen ducking into the doorway was standing with his back to Dylan, taking part in an animated conversation, probably with Bonnie and Sally. He couldn't see the girls, but knew that they must be in there with him. He thought about taking a shot at the figure, but ruled it out as being too risky, especially since he would be shooting through a closed window. A poor shot, and any ensuing ricochet, would endanger the lives of Sally and Bonnie. No, he would need to find another solution. If only he could hear what this man was saying to them.

-

Inside the bank Brock's psychotic conversation continued. "Yes that's right ladies. I'm not alone! You thought I was didn't you. You wouldn't believe me if I told you why I'm not alone, but you'd be impressed, that's for sure."

"Impressed with what?" asked Bonnie, trying to sound as casual and as friendly as possible.

He gave her a filthy look. "Wouldn't you like to know!" he snarled.

"Only if you want to tell us. It's fine if you don't."

"Well I don't, so shut the fuck up! Where did you come from anyway? Millfield, like the other one?"

All of a sudden, Bonnie's calm demeanour evaporated, replaced by an adrenaline rush of hope. "What other one in Millfield?" she blurted, just a little too excitedly.

Brock paused and studied her face. "What are you so excited about, all of a sudden? Are you friends with that cunt who stole my girlfriend? _He_ was from Millfield."

Bonnie's optimism faded immediately as she realised that this creep was talking about the 'bad man' that had taken his girlfriend, and not her daughter.

"No, I'm not friends with him. I don't know anyone in Millfield," she lied, as her mood slumped.

"Well that's just as well then, because any friend of that prick is an enemy of mine, and I don't want us to be enemies. I want us to be very, very, good friends. All three of us."

He smiled at the two women and motioned for them to stand up.

"Okay, girls. I need to put you away for a little while. There's some stuff I need to do before it gets dark. Get in the vault."

"No! You can't!" pleaded Bonnie, as Sally looked at her in terror. "We'll suffocate in there."

"For fuck's sake! Relax! It's only for twenty minutes, while I go feed my pretties. You'll be fine. I'll even give you a flashlight each so you won't be scared of the dark. And when I come back, I have a really big night planned for us all. We're going to get to know each other a little better. I might even introduce you to the rest of the family."

"Please don't do this!" begged Bonnie. "What if something happens to you out there and you never come back? We'll starve to death!"

"Now listen," said the big man, trying to maintain control of the situation. "I said you will be fine, and you will be. So shut the fuck up AND GET IN THAT VAULT!"

The violence of his outburst and the gun that was trembling in his hands convinced Bonnie that there was nothing they could do right now. She grabbed Sally's hand and led her to the foreboding steel door of the vault. "It'll be okay," she whispered. "We'll get our chance. Be cool."

Once they were inside, Brock tossed in two flashlights and the girls quickly picked them up from the floor and turned them on before the door swung shut with a booming metallic thump. They looked at each other, terror writ large on their faces.

"This is bad, isn't it?" asked Sally.

Bonnie looked at her grimly and nodded, "The worst."

-

Dylan watched the whole scene through the window with growing dread, but before he'd had a chance to act, the obese kidnapper had bundled the girls into the vault and closed the door. He considered storming the front door and overpowering the girls' captor, but realised if something went wrong and the fat man was killed, Dylan might never be able to open the vault door, and they would be trapped inside forever. After all, you couldn't call the police for help any more, could you? He watched in fear and uncertainty as the man inside the building picked up a large, heavy looking bag and headed for the front door. Dylan ran quickly across the street and hid behind a parked car as the man stepped out through the front door with a big smile on his face. He looked up and down the street, and then headed past Dylan's back towards the car yard, whistling happily the whole time. Dylan knew exactly where he was going. He followed.
Chapter 52

A Survivor

Matt was in town to pick up supplies before they perished or were liberated by other survivors. His concern was that if circumstances changed in the near future, canned or dried food would become a valuable commodity, and while he hadn't encountered any looters yet, he had to assume that they were out there somewhere and may eventually arrive in more isolated towns as the cities became more and more inhospitable. He stood outside the supermarket and surveyed the street. It was a ghost town, inhabited by corpses. He studied the decaying human remains and meditated on his own survival. Why had he not succumbed to the virus, or whatever it was, that had caused this change in humanity? Whatever the reason, he was glad. Not because other people had perished, but that he had gone on living. Just days ago he was ready to give up the fight and would have been okay with joining the roll call of the dead, but things had changed. He had found Gabby and then Montana, and all of a sudden his life seemed to have a purpose. There would be no more days spent just filling in time or wasting valuable seconds. Even the most mundane jobs were now imbued with a crucial significance. He had not become a feeder and he had not died! His life was precious and he needed to make it count, for his parents and for Gabby and Montana, his new family. He went into the supermarket.

Matt had expected it to smell bad, and he wasn't disappointed. He pushed his shopping trolley past the low open refrigerators, which once stocked fresh meat, but were now simply vessels of corruption and stench. As he passed them by he could see grey lumps of flesh, wrapped in plastic packaging that had once been living cows, sheep and pigs. He held his breath, brushed a swarm of flies away and moved quickly to the aisle containing canned goods, pasta and rice. Without much thought, and as quickly as he was able, he filled his trolley to the brim, then wheeled it to his ute, where he unloaded it into the tray before going back into the store to repeat the process. By the time he had finished, Matt had completed almost twenty trips and the back of his truck was filled with essential supplies that would last almost indefinitely without going stale. He had loaded the last trolley of goods into the truck, and was about to go home when he heard an unusual sound coming from around the corner. He grabbed his gun from the front seat of the truck and stood quietly with his head tilted, as he tried to identify the sound.

His curiosity was satisfied just a few seconds later, when the source of the whistling came strolling around the corner as large as life. Matt stared, open-mouthed as the man stopped, studied him, and then doffed his baseball.

"Good morning sir." he said. "Doing some shopping, I see."

"Um. Yes, I am. Hi?"

"Oh, hello, hello!" he said, as if running into Matt was the most normal thing in the world. He walked over and offered his hand. "My name's Bill. It's very nice to meet you. I'm surprised, though. I thought the town was deserted."

Matt quickly took in the man's features. He was around fifty years old and wearing a pair of jeans and one of the ugliest sweaters Matt had ever seen - was that a reindeer on the front? Under his Yankees cap the man had an unruly mop of grey hair that seemed to have a mind of its own. Matt moved his gun to his left hand, and shook his hand.

"Hello. I'm Matt. Where the hell did you come from?" he asked.

"Just passing through. Yes, I'm on my way to the city and thought I'd stop here for the night. No demons about I noticed."

"No, no, um, demons. They all seemed to have left town. Where have you come from? Have you seen any other people in your travels?"

"I've come from out west and yes, I've seen some survivors. Not as many as I'd like, though. There seems to be a bit of a gathering over in Diamond Creek. Do you know it?"

"Yes, about four hours west of here. You were there? What's it like?" Matt asked, eager for information about survivors.

"Yes, I stayed there for a few days. Word seems to be getting around that it's a good place to go. More people were turning up every day before I left. The survivors have buried all of the corpses, and new arrivals are staking claims to empty houses. Someone might as well use them I guess. It's becoming like a real town, I suppose."

"Why Diamond Creek? What's so special about there? There are bigger and better places to build a town, surely?"

"Well that's a really good question. The town has electricity, but nobody knew that before they turned up there. People just came out of the blue and couldn't explain why. Pretty weird, I'd say!"

"Yeah, absolutely. Why didn't you stay there?"

"I have relatives in the city. They're probably dead or have turned into demons, but I feel like I have to make an effort."

"I guess so. I don't think the city will be very safe, though. There must still be a lot of feeders there, are you sure that's a good idea?"

Bill gave Matt a look that was difficult to read. "Well, I don't know. I guess it's probably not a very good idea is it? But what else can I do? I should do something. I can't just sit still and wait. I didn't feel like Diamond Creek was for me so...." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what to do really. I'm just moving."

Something about the man's pleasant manner and ludicrous plan to travel into the city to search aimlessly for relatives touched Matt's heart, and before he realised what he was doing he made him an offer.

"Why don't you come out to my place and stay for a while? We could use some help around the farm."

Bill studied Matt intently; as if he suspected a trick. "Oh no, I don't think so. I should keep moving. You don't want me hanging around, getting in the way. I don't have any useful skills. I'm an accountant for goodness sake! I mean I was an accountant. The world has no use for that job any more does it?"

Matt laughed, "No I guess not, but who cares? I can give you some jobs to do around the farm. You look fit and healthy."

He looked at Matt more intently, considering the offer. "Well, it's very generous of you. Are you sure?"

"Yes, absolutely. People need to help each other now. I insist. Do you have anything to bring?"

"Just a few things with my bike. I'll grab them and be back in a few minutes."

-

The look on Montana's face when they arrived back at the farm told Matt everything he needed to know about her attitude to the new member of their clan. She was pissed and didn't care who knew it. As they unloaded the supplies from the back of Matt's ute and carried them up the path to the house, Montana refused to speak to either Matt or Bill. As soon as the groceries were deposited in the large walk-in pantry, Matt made Bill a cup of tea and encouraged him to sit and talk to Gabby while he took Montana out onto the front veranda to try and calm her down. She stood there with her hands on her hips, glaring at him angrily, while Matt did his best to justify his decision to bring a stranger into their midst.

"Look, he's just passing through. He has no-one in the world, and we could use an extra pair of hands while we set ourselves up."

For a moment Matt thought Montana was going to continue with the silent treatment, so he was relieved when she finally hissed, "You know nothing about him! He could be a serial killer, for all you know! Why on earth would you put us all at risk when we've just made the place safe? You spent two days building a fence, then invited a stranger right in."

"The fence is to keep feeders out, not people that need help. And just to remind you, this is my farm. I invited you and Gabby in, remember? You're being unfair. He'll only be here for a few days, and then I'll send him on his way. You don't even have to speak to him if you don't want to."

"Oh don't worry, I won't!" she spat, as she stormed off into the kitchen.

Five minutes later Matt was sitting on the front veranda with Bill, trying to convince him that Montana was just a little stressed, and that she really didn't mind having a fourth person in the house. "She'll be okay once she gets used to you. She's a really lovely person."

"No, it's okay," said Bill, "She's upset. I understand that. I probably would be too if I were her. She's very happy and secure here with you and Gabby. She's learned to trust you, but now you're asking her to go through all that again with me. It might be better if I leave. What do you think?"

"No. It's okay Bill. You're welcome here. It's my farm. If Montana doesn't like it, she'll just have put up with it. It's not her call. She's being a little unreasonable."

"Well if you're sure. It would be nice to get to know you all for a little while, and maybe I can be some help around the place. I really appreciate your kindness."

"Okay then, that's settled. Now let me show you around."

-

While Bill was given the tour of the farm, Montana and Gabby sorted the cans and packets of food that Matt had brought back from town. Gabby was quieter than usual, but followed Montana's instructions and helped to get things organised on the pantry shelves.

"Why don't you like that man?" Gabby asked.

"Oh honey, it's not that I don't like him, I just don't know him, that's all. Everything was going so well for us, and now I have to get used to having somebody else around."

She passed Gabby two tins of tomatoes. "I'm sure he'll be fine, and Matt could use some help around the place so don't you worry, okay? He's only staying for a few days."

But as Montana handed Gabby another two tins of tomatoes, she thought that the little girl did look worried. Montana assumed that she was missing her mother terribly and tried to ease her mind somewhat by saying, "Hey, why don't we see if Matt will take us to visit Kate and Elvis tomorrow?"

The girl's eyes immediately lit up, "Really?"

"Sure. I'll ask him about it tonight, okay?"

"Yes please. Can we look for mummy too?"

Montana tried to look optimistic as she replied, "Of course we can sweetheart. Now come here and give me a hug."

-

Once Matt had shown Bill around the farm, they got to work setting up sensors around the perimeter of the fence so that the arc lights would turn on automatically if triggered by movement. Bill turned out to be a useful helper, and after a considerable amount of trial and error, they eventually made the system work with reliability. They sat outside the fence on a fallen tree trunk, admiring their handiwork, and Bill became more inquisitive about the farm and the girls. Matt gave him a brief outline of his journey since the event and, when he had finished, asked Bill about his experiences. The man described a similar scenario to Matt's in a small village much further west with a population of less than one hundred people, but didn't go into much detail, implying that he had eradicated all of the feeders once he realised how violent they had become. Matt realised that everybody handled trauma differently, and even though Bill wasn't very forthcoming with details, he didn't push for more information.

For the rest of the afternoon, and into the evening, Montana continued to keep her distance from Bill. She didn't refuse to speak to him completely, but it was clear from her demeanour that she was not happy about this new arrival, and would only be satisfied after he left. After a tense dinner, Matt was somewhat relieved when Montana took Gabby off to bed, leaving the two men alone.

Matt gave Bill a slightly embarrassed look. "I'll get you some blankets. You can sleep on the couch. Maybe tomorrow I can set you up somewhere a bit more private. There's a sleepout on the back veranda. It doesn't have a bed at the moment, but I can put one in there tomorrow."

"I don't want you to go to any trouble. A sleeping bag is all I need. The couch sounds good for tonight, though. I think I need to sleep. I don't feel that well."

"Oh, okay," said Matt, as he passed him a pillow and two blankets.

"Hey, Matt. Thank you. I know how hard this has been for you. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah sure. No worries. I'll see you in the morning. I hope you feel a bit better by then."

As Matt headed to his bedroom, he wondered about his new acquaintance. Maybe Montana was right about him, he thought, before putting the idea out of his mind just as quickly. The man was just a lonely survivor like him. There was no need for paranoia. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

-

It was around two in the morning, the world was silent and the moon had not long risen. The farm was awash in pale silvery light and the only discernible sounds were those of the house creaking occasionally, as its boards shrunk slightly as the temperature dropped. Matt had crawled into bed hours ago and now dreamt that his mother was alive and telling him to clean his room before his father got home. Montana and Gabby lay huddled together, sound asleep in each other's arms, sisters now, through circumstances beyond their control, but possessing no less of a bond for that. The house creaked again and the moon continued its' inexorable rise in the night sky, throwing a little more light on the girls' cherubic faces. In the doorway, a figure stood, mesmerised by Gabby's sleeping form. Outside, beyond the fence, the lights remained off.
Chapter 53

Pets

Dylan followed the fat man back towards the zombie cage, and marvelled at his boldness. He waddled along the deserted road, his chubby little face whistling with happiness, despite the fact that he'd just incarcerated two innocent women. Dylan wanted to leap on the evil turd and beat him to a pulp, but he knew that he had to restrain himself until the door of the bank vault was opened, and for that he would need to be patient.

Dylan watched from a safe distance, as the man loped casually towards the used car yard. Every fifteen metres or so he stopped and shuffled the heavy overnight bag from one hand to the other, as his arms grew tired. It was clear that this was about as much exercise as he had ever done. He reached the car yard he threw the bag on the ground, and stretched his arms above his head as he looked around, puffing heavily from the walk. Then he picked up his bag and headed around behind the car yard sales office where the creatures were sleeping. Dylan waited until he had disappeared from view, and crept quietly to the side of the office where he would be able to observe, unseen.

Brock was oblivious to Dylan's presence as he put the key into the cage's padlock. He wasn't worried about the creatures attacking him, because he knew they only came out of hibernation once the sun had set. He had stuck his head into the kennel to check on the creatures and was satisfied that they were still sleeping. He unzipped the bag and took out three large plastic tubs that contained hunks of raw meat. He removed the lids and poured the mess into a large metal dish the size of a garbage can lid, before wiping his hands on his already filthy cargo pants. He let himself out of the cage, and locked it behind him. Once he was satisfied that the cage was secure, he sat on an upturned milk-crate and considered his incredible good fortune in the days since Montana had been stolen from him days ago.

When Brock had watched Matt drive out of Carswell with Montana, he had been consumed with fury. He stormed around the streets breaking windows, screaming at the world and crying like a baby whose toy had been taken away. He had never known rage like it, and to his surprise, he found it painful and pleasurable in equal measures. After the outburst, which lasted until the sun began to set, he found himself lying on his back in the middle of the street, much like the decaying corpses around him, taking in big deep breaths as his sobs subsided. Emotionally drained, he stared at the sky, tinged with pink, and unexpectedly, with alarming clarity, he realised that the old world was dead. The first star of the night was shining brightly from light years away, and it made him feel insignificant and incredibly important all at the same time. So, as the daylight leeched from the town and the shadows crept in, Brock realised that he could be absolutely anything that he wanted to be. Anything.

Later that night, locked safely in his bank fortress, Brock was imagining all of the ways he could kill Montana and that cocksucking farm boy, when he heard an odd monotonous sound coming from outside. He lumbered to the front window and scratched his head in confusion as he looked up and down, trying to locate the source of the strange sound. Finally, out of the darkness towards the west, a procession of feeders moved down the street, with great purpose, towards his position. He could scarcely believe what he was witnessing as the beasts continued to march out of the blackness, like some crazy protest from the portals of hell. He ducked down in the window and was even more amazed when he saw how they behaved up close. Instead of acting as an unruly, violent mob, they seemed to share a common goal as they strode through the town. They didn't attack each other, and they didn't seem to be in hunting mode. They were all heading in the same easterly direction, as if under the command of an unseen leader. Brock didn't understand what this meant, but he realised that he was viewing something that was both disturbing and fascinating. An almost imperceptible smile played across his face.

He watched over the next few hours, until there were literally hundreds of zombies walking past his position at the window. As they passed the well-lit bank (now powered by a generator) Brock could see that they were not in a dream state, like sleepwalkers, as he had originally thought, but in fact the opposite. They seemed extremely aware of their surroundings, and of each other. Brock could see them glare suspiciously at the lights as they went by, but they didn't seem interested in investigating, and they continued their bizarre pilgrimage to the east.

As the night wore on, the feeder numbers dwindled until just a couple of hours before dawn, there was only the occasional, lone creature shuffling through the town slowly, left behind by the faster pack. Brock could see that the behaviour of these stragglers was different than the others. Weaker and less agile, they followed well behind the stronger group, with something like fear in their eyes. Brock didn't know why they didn't have the strength of the others, but something about their vulnerability gave him an idea. He took up a position at the window on a comfortable chair and waited for his opportunity. Next to him was a stun gun he'd liberated from the Carswell Police Station and a large coil of rope that he'd found in the bank storeroom. For the next hour he waited. Occasionally, exhausted from being up most of the night, his fat head would loll forward onto his chest, jerking him awake with a start. At around five o'clock in the morning, he was so frustrated and bored that he was ready to give up his vigil and go to bed, when he saw what he'd been waiting for – a lone feeder stumbling weakly down the street towards the bank. It was in clearly in bad shape. It would walk a few paces, then stop and look around, as if wondering where it was. A scrawny older male, wearing just a few remnants of a tattered t-shirt and nothing else - it stood in the pre-dawn gloom swaying slightly from side to side just ten metres from Brock's position in the window. He realised that now was his best chance to capture one of these beasts, so he grabbed the stun gun and rope and headed for the front door.

Brock checked his stun gun, and opened the door. He stepped out onto the street, and could see an instant change in the demeanour of the creature as it noticed him. It's expression changed from confusion to hatred in a split second, as it glared at this human who had dared to show himself. The feeder's body became more erect and its muscles tensed, and Brock had a sick feeling in his stomach that he'd made a very bad choice, as the creature stared him down. What a stupid move! This was madness, he thought, as he tentatively raised the stun gun and pointed it at his target. For almost a minute, neither figure moved as the eastern sky became lighter. Then, as if realising it needed to find a nest before daybreak, the creature charged towards Brock, who let out a little cry as fear gripped him like a vice. He took aim and fired the stun gun as the feeder reached him, and before he realised what had happened, the creature was lying at his feet, twitching spasmodically. Without wasting any time, he bound the feeder's hands and feet with the rope, and then hoisted the filthy thing onto his back like a sack of potatoes. Brock may not have been fit, but he was strong enough to throw the creature around like a rag doll. He carried it down the street as fast as he was able, and locked it in the cage he had discovered behind the used car yard.

He was grinning as he hurried back to the bank, thrilled with his catch. Then, a totally unexpected opportunity arose to capture a second feeder, when he saw a female slinking into a disused garden shed to hibernate for the night. It too had been separated from the main pack and was consequently stranded in Carswell. Instead of capturing this one immediately, though, Brock simply waited until later in the day and stunned it as it slept, before transferring it into the cage alongside the male.

Dylan studied Brock as he sat watching the cage. It seemed clear that he was going to wait until dark, then observe his 'pets' as they woke to feed. Dylan was curious to see how the creatures would react to being confined in the small enclosure, but he knew that this was his chance to get to the girls, and let them know he was aware of their predicament. Leaving the tubby man to his macabre vigil, Dylan retreated from the car yard and ran as fast as he could to the bank. With the onset of nightfall, he was slightly concerned about encountering a stray creature, but his intuition told him they were nesting at the Delano Caves with thousands more of their kind.

When he reached the bank, he threw open the front door and ran straight to the vault. He couldn't hear any sounds from inside, but he knew the girls wouldn't have heard him enter the building. He found a baseball bat lying on the floor, and without hesitation began tapping out a rhythm on the huge steel door.

"Sally, Bonnie, can you hear me? It's Dylan!"

The sound of muffled voices and banging from inside the vault told him that the girls could hear him, despite the thickness of the door.

"Is that you Dylan? Get us out of here!"

They sounded like they were speaking from inside a submarine, but he thought they could understand most of what he was saying, so he continued. "I can't open the door. I have to wait until fatso gets back. Stay cool and don't panic. I'll get you..."

Inside the vault, Bonnie and Sally stared at each other as Dylan's voice suddenly ceased, their faces bathed in dark shadows like ghouls. They put their ears to cold door and listened, but there was no sound from outside. As the seconds ticked by, their hearts beat faster and the panic rose in them like a tide. Then suddenly a loud clank made them jump as the heavy door began to open. As they pulled on the door, however, they didn't fall into the arms of their rescuer, as they had hoped. Rather, the man who had jailed them, not more than an hour ago, greeted them.

"Going somewhere ladies?" he asked, with a smirk. "I thought we had a date?"
Chapter 54

Stolen

Matt was jolted out of a deep sleep by Montana shaking him violently. The bedroom light was on, but it was still dark outside.

"What's wrong? Is it Gabby? Is she sick?"

"She's gone! She's gone! He's taken her!"

Matt jumped out of bed, grabbed his gun and ran to the lounge room. When he saw the empty couch and missing suitcase, he wanted to vomit, such was his fear, "Quick! Get dressed! We have to go!" he exclaimed.

Matt dressed frantically and ran to the kitchen to grab his car keys. He yelled at Montana, "Are you ready? We have to go! Now!"

She hustled out of the bedroom, pulling on her sneakers, "I'm ready! Let's go!"

They bolted through the front door, and Matt could see immediately that his mother's car was missing from its usual spot under the carport. "Shit! He's got mum's car!"

He could also see that the big floodlights had not switched themselves on, as they were meant to, "That fucker disabled the lights. Probably right after we finished working on them! God! How could I be so stupid? Come on! Get in!"

They climbed into the car and Matt was relieved when the engine started first time. The headlights illuminated the gravel road and, as he gunned the engine, he prayed to any available deity that somehow Gabby would be safe. They drove through the bush, staring into the darkness beyond the windscreen, searching for headlights in the distance.

"Why didn't we wake up, Matt? Why didn't we hear him leave?" Montana asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he drugged us. I was dead to the world. If you hadn't woken me I'd still be asleep!"

"Why didn't he just kill us while we slept?"

"Who knows? Maybe he's just not the killing type. It doesn't matter really does it? Let's just push on."

They reached the end of the gravel road at the entrance to the farm, and Matt stopped the car, looking left and right down the roads that would take them either east, to Millfield and Carswell, or towards the west.

"Which way? Do you think he's taking her to that Diamond Creek place he told us about?"

Matt shook his head. "No. I don't think so. I got the impression he didn't like it much there. I think he's heading east. I don't think he's looking for relatives in the city, like he said he was, but I think he was telling the truth about which direction he was going."

He put his foot down on the accelerator, and peeled out onto the road towards Millfield with a squeal of his tyres.

"God, I hope you're right!" said Montana, giving him a look that radiated nothing but anxiety and doubt.

Matt slowed down as they reached Millfield and they peered around the dark streets searching for any sign that Gabby had been through.

"She must be scared out of her wits. Why do you think he took her? What does a man that age want with a six-year-old girl? Oh my god! Matt, you don't think he wants to ... do you? Please, not that. She's just a baby. If he touches her I'll fucking kill him!"

Matt looked at her, as tears started welling up in her beautiful blue eyes. "No I don't think he's a pervert, but who really knows any more? I'm starting to think you and Kate were right about her. I think she has something that's special. God! I can't believe I'm saying that, but the rules have changed, haven't they. The old thinking, the old way of doing things is finished. We need to trust our intuitions more, or something. I should have listened to you about that scumbag."

He took his eyes off the road briefly and looked at her. "I'm sorry Montana. I don't give you enough credit. If I listened to you in the first place Gabby would be safe now, and that fucker Bill would have been long gone."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I don't care. I just want to find her. I don't think she's here in Millfield, though, do you?"

Matt put his foot down, and the car picked up speed. "No I don't. Why would he stop here? It's too close. He's heading toward Carswell, isn't he?"

"Yes, I think so too. Let's get moving."

Almost an hour later, as the sky was beginning to lighten on the horizon, Matt said, "We'll be going past Kate's turnoff soon. I wonder how Elvis and her are going?"

"I hope they're okay. I really liked her. She's one tough lady."

"I'll say. So are you, by the way. In a good way."

"Thanks," she said, putting her hand on Matt's thigh. "But I don't feel very tough right now, I feel like I could shatter into a million tiny pieces. I'm a wreck. Matt, if anything happens to Gabby I don't think I could cope."

"I know exactly how you feel."

Five minutes later they reached the spot on the road where Matt had been attacked by the feeder that had once been Kate's ex-husband. Neither of them mentioned the incident as they sped past because they had other things on their minds. Matt shifted into the lower gears and they began the slow climb up the mountain range towards Carswell.

"Matt, what will we do if we find them? What will you do to that man?"

"I honestly don't know. Right now, the way I feel, I would put a bullet in his head. But when the time comes, who knows?"

"Matt?" Montana paused, unsure if she even wanted to ask the next question. "What if we don't find them?"

He looked straight ahead, intent on the way forward. "We will."

-

As Matt and Montana sped through the dawn, searching for Gabby, they were completely unaware that just twenty kilometres to the south, in the ancient depths of the Delano Caves, thousands of feeders were preparing to hibernate for the day. They had converged on this spot from all around, drawn by an instinct that they didn't understand, for a purpose that was yet to be fulfilled. If the creatures had any kind of self-awareness they might have understood that a similar pattern of feeder migration and congregation was be happening in places all over the world, but that concept was beyond them. The impulses that drove them were of no more concern to them than their impulse to breathe. They just did what they did, like animals would.

That wasn't all, though. Since the event there had been changes in the feeders' appearance and habits that would have been obvious to any scientist who could have found a way to observe and study them. The most noticeable change was their skin, where pale blotches had started to appear, making it look as if parts of their bodies had been bleached. The discolouration started near the neck and under the armpits, and then spread to all other parts of the body. Its progress was slow, but given the rate of coverage, it would be only a matter of weeks before the feeders' entire bodies were completely white. The other element of this symptom, our hypothetical scientist would have noted, was the toughening up of the affected regions. As the colour leeched from their bodies, the creatures' skin became thicker and more leathery. It was barely noticeable to the naked eye in the early stages, but eventually this change would give the feeders a very distinctive and animal-like appearance.

At the same time there were also changes occurring that would have been too slight, for even a scientist to identify, and that was why the feeders were to become such formidable adversaries for whoever decided to take a stand against them. They were evolving. Their physical structure was changing and they became stronger with each slight mutation. They were becoming something new. And once our imaginary scientist got his head around that concept, he would have been very, very scared indeed.
Chapter 55

Brock Gets Angry

Sally rushed out of the bank vault and into the flabby chest of Brock, who pushed her savagely to the ground, where she found herself laying alongside the unconscious body of Dylan, who was sporting a large, ugly lump on his forehead.

"You bastard!" she screamed. "What have you done to him?"

"Shut the fuck up!" barked Brock, as he grabbed Bonnie by the arm and dragged her from the dark vault and into the harshly lit room. She shielded her eyes from the glare, but said nothing as she was forced down onto the floor beside Sally and the still comatose Dylan.

"Who the fuck is this?" Brock demanded, anger etched into every pore of his skin.

"Never seen him before," answered Bonnie, prompting her captor to step forward and slap her hard across the top of her head.

"Oh really? It looks as if your little girlfriend there knows him, so stop lying or I'll have to give you a lesson on how to tell the truth."

He picked up the baseball bat that was lying beside Dylan and tried again. "Now. Think carefully bitch. Who is this prick who just broke into my place?"

Bonnie looked at the twisted face of the obviously deranged kidnapper, and realised that she had nothing to gain by lying. His state of mind was clearly unbalanced, and it was plain to her, as she stared up at him from the cold concrete floor, that the only way out of this predicament would involve violence against him at some point. Bonnie thought about Gabby, stranded in Millfield, alone without her, and realised that she was more than ready to deliver whatever was necessary to get out of this mess, and get back on the road to her daughter. When she asked herself whether she was capable of killing this man, the answer came to her immediately and without doubt. Yes!

"Answer me!" Brock screamed. "Who is he?"

Sally looked at the older woman, waiting. Bonnie spoke. "His name is Dylan. He's travelling with us. We're trying to get to Millfield."

"Okay then. That's better," said Brock, as some of the anger left his face. "Now we're getting somewhere. Next question. Why are you going there? What's so important in that shitty little town? You looking for somebody? If you are, you're wasting your time. They're all zombies now. Or dead."

Sally squeezed Bonnie's hand, hoping that her friend would make no mention of Gabby to this monster.

"I know that," said Bonnie, as she returned Sally's squeeze. "But it's my home town, I have to get back there, no matter what. I had a husband there. I miss him," she lied.

"How sweet," he sneered. "Well, you're not going to find him, so don't even bother. You have a new man in your life now. Me. So hurry up and help me get your friend there into the vault," he said, motioning towards Dylan.

"No, please!" beseeched Sally. "He's not well, he needs looking after!"

"That's why you're going to be in there with him, sweetheart. Now hurry up before I change my mind and introduce you to my pets!"

Sally and Bonnie took one of Dylan's arms each, and dragged him as carefully as they could into the vault. Dylan made quiet, groaning sounds, suggesting that he might be regaining consciousness. Sally prayed there was no permanent brain damage, as she sat on the floor of the vault and cradled his head in her lap, stroking it gently. She shot a vicious look at Brock, who had grabbed Bonnie by the upper arm and was leading her out of the vault. As the door slammed shut on Sally once more, she reached over and grabbed one the flashlights and flicked it on before complete darkness descended. Sally cried as Dylan moaned softly in her arms.

Outside the vault, Brock dragged Bonnie across the room and pushed her clumsily onto the single bed that had once been Montana's.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, as he picked up his shotgun and collapsed onto his own bed across the room without taking his eyes from her. "It's going to be a long, hard night, if you know what I mean."

As Bonnie stared at Brock, she evaluated the strengths of her opponent. Physically, he was much stronger than she was. He looked as if he weighed twice as much, and was at least a head taller. Any attempt to overpower him, unarmed, would be suicidal. He could snap her neck like a twig if he wanted to. No, if she was going to get out of this predicament and save her friends, she would need to use cunning and surprise. Across the room he munched his way through a large packet of chips. No problem, she thought.

"So, do you have a name?" she asked, in a friendly, but confident voice. "I'm Bonnie, by the way."

"I don't give a shit," he mumbled, as crumbs flew from his mouth.

Nice, she thought to herself, as she watched him continue to stuff his fat face, unaffected by her attempt to be civilised. A more creative approach was going to be required to break down his defenses, she realised, if she wanted to escape and get back to Gabby. Societal norms were out the window now, and the fat fuck across the room knew that as well as she did. They were living in a lawless world, and if survivors wanted to reinvent themselves as hedonistic, sadistic psychopaths, then there was nothing to stop them, other than their own conscience. Bonnie took a deep breath, and tried a different approach.

"Hey, what are you planning to do with me?" she asked, more forcefully than her previous question.

He stopped eating and stared at her. "I don't know yet, but I'm going to enjoy it, that's for sure."

"Are you really?" Bonnie retorted, sounding much braver than she actually felt. "Why are you sitting there eating chips then? Are it just me you're scared of, or is it all women? Can't get it up, maybe?"

Brock clambered up off his bed, leaving the shotgun behind, as he stormed across the room. "You fucking slut! You're all the same!" he spat, before slapping her hard across the face.

It was the chance Bonnie had been hoping for. As her head rocked back from the impact of Brock's blow, she kicked with her right foot as hard as she could, collecting him fully in the groin.

"Ow! You bitch!" he roared, as he fell to his knees, clutching his throbbing balls.

Without hesitation, Bonnie jumped onto the bed, quickly skirting around her disabled opponent, as she raced for the nearest weapon - the baseball bat she'd seen lying on the floor beside Dylan earlier. She picked it up as Brock was getting to his feet, with murder in his eyes. He charged at her like a wounded elephant as she swung the bat with all her strength. She heard a cracking sound as the bat connected with his ribcage, and felt the jolt from the impact travel right up into her shoulders. Brock lurched forward angrily and slammed his whole body into Bonnie's, sending them both sprawling towards the concrete floor. Before Bonnie hit the floor, however, she realised that if this behemoth of a man fell on top of her, she might be severely injured, or even killed, and Gabby would be orphaned. Frantically, she twisted her body, desperate to get out from under the falling hulk, and, as they both hit the hard floor, she realised that her attacker was moaning in pain beside her, and that she had been spared from being crushed.

Bonnie leaped to her feet, and was surprised to find that she still had a tight grasp on the baseball bat. She looked down at the man who had kidnapped her - the man who would keep her from her daughter – as he clutched his ribs in pain, scared now by Bonnie's fury and the attacking stance she had adopted with the bat.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he stammered as he sat up, grimacing in pain. "I wasn't going to hurt you. Honestly. I was going to let you all go. I was only joking. I'm hurt too. I think you broke my ribs," he moaned pathetically.

Bonnie stared coldly at this pitiful specimen, as he blubbered like a baby, and considered what the consequences may have been for Gabby if this fiend had gotten away with his failed attempt at abduction. Then she pondered the fate of future survivors, who might be unfortunate enough to cross paths with this crazy, violent misfit. Finally, she thought about Dylan, who was lying on the floor of the bank vault with Sally, suffering from a head injury that may have killed him. She thought of all these things in just a fraction of a second, and then, as Brock made one final plea for forgiveness, she raised the baseball bat above her head and swung it down as hard as she could onto the top of his skull, spearing tiny fragments of bone into the soft pink tissue of his brain. Brock was no longer a threat.

Bonnie threw the bat onto the floor and ran to the vault, trying not to vomit. She didn't think Brock had set the combination, but she knew that if he had, her fit of anger was likely to cost Sally and Dylan their lives. She grasped the big metal wheel on the centre of the vault door, took a deep breath and rotated it. The wheel turned freely and she could hear a solid metallic scraping sound as the large metal bar slid from its housing. After a few more turns, the wheel stopped with a loud clunk, and Bonnie knew that she was almost there. If the fat kidnapper had not set the combination lock, it should now just be a simple matter of pulling the door open. She braced herself, said a silent prayer, and hauled as hard as she could. For a moment she panicked, as the door remained closed, but she had simply underestimated the weight of the door. She tried again, this time with more force, and when it swung open, tears of relief streamed down her face.

Bonnie stepped into the vault, and was surprised to see Dylan and Sally sitting together, with their backs against the wall holding hands. She smiled and went to her friends, embracing them as she sobbed onto Dylan's shoulder.

"What took you so long?" he whispered weakly.

Not too far away, in the cage behind the used car yard, two creatures, which were once human, stopped feeding and stared into the darkness, towards the bank. The drying blood on their faces glistened in the moonlight as they peered into the distance. They sensed that something had changed. They had detected the presence of a new danger out there in the night. One of them made a sound that may have been a growl and they returned to their feeding.
Chapter 56

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"I'm absolutely exhausted right now, but I'm forcing myself to write this stuff down because I think that if I leave it too long, I'll forget some of the details, or remember it differently, or not at all. It's almost ten o'clock; Dylan and Bonnie are sleeping but I can't, so I'll write. Today was a crazy day. Another crazy day, I should say. Dylan could have been killed, and an irrational, oversized psychopath tried to take Bonnie and I captive._

_We stopped for fuel in a little town called Carswell, and that's when everything went wrong. Dylan went to investigate something he'd found out the back of a used car yard (more about that later), and while we were waiting for him to come back, a big fat nerd with a gun snuck up on us, and forced us to go back to his "lair", which turned out to be an old bank. (I know! We were stupid! I'm so cranky with us, for getting caught like that!) Anyway, this guy was a fruitcake! He kept going on about his "ex-girlfriend" and asking us if we knew some farm boy from Millfield. I don't know how he knew them, or what they had done to him, but somehow they'd really pissed him off! If I ever meet them, I'll congratulate them._

_Anyway, when Dylan came back into the car yard and saw that we were missing he freaked! Luckily, though, he caught a glimpse of us going into the bank and waited for his chance. He got it when fatso went to do some "chores". Dylan followed him back to the car yard, and this is where it gets really, really weird! We found out later that this freak had somehow managed to capture some zombies and he was keeping them like pets. (We don't know why he did it, or what his plans for them were, but tomorrow, when the sun comes up Dylan insists that we have a closer look at them, before heading to Millfield). So while the freak was out, looking after his pets, Dylan raced back to the bank to try and get us out of the vault, but fatty came back and hit Dylan with a baseball bat and knocked him out._

_He then made us get out of the vault and when I saw Dylan lying there unconscious, my heart almost broke. I didn't think I could feel that way about anybody. I fell apart. I didn't know how badly he was hurt, so I imagined the worst. I honestly couldn't function. Then he locked Dylan and me in the vault without Bonnie, and I honestly thought it would end up being our tomb. Without medical treatment I thought that my saviour might die, and then I would have to kill myself too. That sounds melodramatic, but I really felt that low. I've never felt so alone or scared! I hugged his unconscious body and I cried. I could see no way out of our situation. Then, without warning, he started to regain consciousness. He was groggy and had a headache, but seemed like he might be okay. He smiled and my mood changed immediately. I wasn't alone any more. I wanted to get out and kill the fat fuck that had done this to my man. In the end I didn't need to, though. Bonnie had taken care of that for me._

_When the vault door swung open I expected to see our kidnapper standing there with his gun, but instead it was Bonnie. The amazing, beautiful, strong Bonnie! Somehow she'd overpowered him and clubbed him to death with the baseball bat! We all hugged like crazy in that vault for about five minutes, then we got out of there. Fatso's body was lying on the floor, just outside the vault, with blood pooling on the concrete floor from a savage indentation in the top of his skull. It wasn't pretty, but you know what? It wasn't even close to being the worst thing I'd seen since this all started._

_After we got Dylan some painkillers and made him lay down on one of the beds, we dragged the dead body (very slowly and with a few rest stops) into the vault and locked the door, so it did become a tomb for somebody, after all. Then I climbed onto the bed with Dylan while Bonnie lay on the other single bed, with a big sigh. For about ten minutes nobody spoke. We were shattered, to be quite honest, and pretty grateful that we could just lie there, doing nothing. It wasn't long before Dylan was asleep and Bonnie and I started to chat. I asked her about Gabby. I was really curious to find out if she really believed that her daughter was alive, or if she was just being optimistic, living in hope. Her answer wasn't what I expected at all. I don't know if she'd told Dylan any of it, but she really opened up and told me a lot of things she hadn't mentioned before. She said that somebody needed to know, in case something happened to her – she didn't want the information to be lost. So she told me._

_Before Gabby was born, Bonnie was happily married to a man named Brant. He worked in a local bank (probably a bit like the one we're in now) and was the perfect husband. They were in love, when Bonnie fell pregnant they were extremely excited. They'd always wanted a child, and loved their life together in Millfield. The pregnancy was boringly normal and Gabby was born healthy. The problems started when they brought Gabby home from the hospital, when John didn't seem very interested in the new baby, despite his previous anticipation about the birth. Bonnie put his attitude down to "first-time father" nerves and stress at work, and assumed that he would become closer to Gabby in time. After a few months, though, it was clear to Bonnie that something was wrong. John seemed to be doing anything he could to avoid spending time with his new daughter, and whenever Bonnie tried to talk to him about it, he would storm out of the house and stay out all night. Within six months, it had all become too difficult, and after a particular vicious argument, John left and never returned._

_Dylan was snoring beside us, and I was finding Bonnie's story pretty interesting, but I couldn't really see what was so unique about it. It certainly wasn't any worse than my family situation, and I knew that stories like this (about deadbeat dads) were common. When I mentioned this to Bonnie, she just said, "Hang on. I haven't got to the interesting part yet." Beside me, Dylan made a grunting sound in his sleep and rolled over onto his side._

_When Bonnie's husband moved out, he didn't just leave his family, he left town altogether. It was as if he couldn't get far enough away from Gabby. He quit his job and Bonnie heard nothing about him until two years later when two police officers - detectives - knocked on her door. They had found John's body in a shack on a remote farm, a thousand kilometres away, in Tasmania. He'd been living "off the grid" since he left Millfield. There was no paper trail and he was surviving by doing odd jobs for cash. The detectives told Bonnie he looked like a hobo when they found him - skinny with a long beard, and filthy clothes. They also told her that he'd killed himself - thrown himself head first onto an upturned gardening fork. Bonnie was getting upset as she was telling this part of the story and I asked her if she wanted to stop, but she insisted on finishing "so someone else would know about Gabby". I have to be honest here; Bonnie's story was starting to give me the creeps. Dylan was still asleep and there wasn't a sound in the world, except for his breathing. It was a very weird atmosphere._

_Anyway, it seemed as if there was a bit more to Bonnie's ex-husband than anybody realised. He was a bad man and always had been. When the police started investigating his death, they found a lot of very disturbing facts about him. He was a paedophile, even while he was married, but he somehow managed to hide it from everybody. He was involved with a little group of perverts who convinced each other that what they were doing was normal. Business trips were just excuses to get together and indulge their filthy tendencies, and there was also violence involved and embezzlement of funds from the bank. The detectives outlined the evidence for Bonnie, but I don't need to repeat the sordid details here, it's too unpleasant for me to think about. The point is that John was a very bad man._

_When Bonnie got to this part of the story I asked her why she was telling me. I was confused. Why was it relevant to our situation now? What did it have to do with Gabby? And I remember the next thing she said. Exactly. She said, "That's why John left. Gabby has a quality that repels evil."_

_I didn't know what to say to this, to be honest. I thought it was the craziest thing I'd ever heard. I must have been staring at Bonnie with my mouth open or something, because she actually laughed at me. She said, "Listen Sally, you're a smart kid. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it's true. There were incidents over the years that convinced me. I had this babysitter booked one time, so I could go to the movies with a girlfriend. She literally wouldn't set foot into my house. I found out later she got caught being cruel to the children in her care. Pinching them, burning them with cigarette lighters, pretending they were accidents. She's in prison now. There have been other examples too. It doesn't matter if you believe me or not, because I know it's true"._

_I asked, "Are you saying that people with evil ... souls, or whatever, literally cannot stand to be around Gabby?"_

_She nodded in silent agreement and all of a sudden it hit me. "That's why you think she's still alive!" I said, "You don't think the zombies will go near her because they're evil!"_

_She smiled and said; "Now you know, and I feel better that I've told someone"._

_I sat on the edge of the single bed, listening to Dylan snore quietly beside me. There wasn't a sound from the world outside, and I realised that if what Bonnie was saying was true, then Gabby is precious beyond imagining. She is perhaps the key to a brighter future for all of us._
_Chapter 57_

_Sickness_

Bill looked at Gabby as she began to stir from her sleep in the passenger seat of Matt's mother's Daihatsu. As the car buzzed along through the pre-dawn gloom towards Carswell, he was still amazed at how easy it had been to take the girl. After putting some crushed-up pills into everyone's hot chocolate after dinner, they were all sleeping like zombies. Bill chuckled to himself over his little joke; despite the nausea he'd been feeling since arriving at 'Two Hills' the day before. He wondered if he had picked up a disease from the dead bodies that were everywhere now. It certainly would make sense, given the state the world was in. He made a mental note to find a chemist at the next town and begin a course of antibiotics, just in case. Gabby moaned and stretched beside Bill. He looked at the little girl and realised that he was going to throw up. He stopped the car in the middle of the road and opened his door just before heaving the contents of last night's dinner onto the road. He wiped his mouth with the back of hand and realised that he was sweating like a pig. Yes, he'd definitely caught something and that was bad, because he had a task to fulfill. It was the most important thing in the world to him right now, but the weird thing was, he had no earthly idea why the duty had fallen to him. His irrational, but compulsive impulse to kidnap the girl and deliver her to 'them' was his only priority. It drove him forward with a thrill and anticipation that only the genuinely obsessed can ever experience. Somehow, deep down, he knew there would be a reward beyond imagination once his mission was complete, but now this illness was putting everything in jeopardy.

He climbed back into the car Gabby as opened her eyes, looking around in confusion. It took a few seconds before she realised that she wasn't in her bed with Montana. She looked at Bill, who was mopping his sweaty brow with his sleeve. "Where are we?" she asked, concerned now, and aware that things weren't as they should be. "Where are Matt and Montana? Where are we going?"

Bill looked at her, and despite his wretched state, smiled and tried to appear as friendly as possible. "It's okay, honey, don't worry about them. We have a very important job to do. I have to take you somewhere very special. You'll have lots of new friends once we get there."

He grimaced and swallowed hard as he felt the bile rising once more in his throat.

"I don't want new friends," she said firmly. "I like Matt and Montana. They're my friends. And they're going to find my mummy."

"I know. We'll see them soon," he lied. "And your mother."

Gabby may have only been six-years-old, but she knew without a doubt that Bill was lying. She also knew that it was bad manners to contradict adults, so sat silently beside him, accepting his explanation, despite the ball of fear growing inside her.

As the dawn began to creep over the eastern horizon, Gabby looked over at Bill and could tell that there was something wrong with him because he kept sweating and had gone a really funny colour. Every now and then he looked at Gabby in a way that bothered her. It was not a nice look, but because she was only six, she didn't have the vocabulary to know the word she needed to describe that gaze. Bill knew it, though, because he was living it more and more with each passing second. The word was "revulsion". Bill was starting to realise that being near this girl was making him sick - very sick. It was taking every molecule of his will to resist pulling the car over and dumping her out onto the roadside. The only thing that stopped him from doing so was his blinding desire to complete the task that he had been called upon to do. He thought back to when it had all started, just a couple of days after the event.

Like everyone else in the world, the first few days for Bill after the event had been a nightmare. His town had been turned into "sleepers" and on the second night he had witnessed the rampage of the creatures from the safety of the local high school's roof as they came out to feed. He managed to survive the initial chaos, and over the next couple of days developed a simple routine that kept him away from the zombies and relatively safe. On the third night, though, the dreams began; so vivid that he could remember every single detail after he woke up. They were very simple in theme - Bill saw himself offering a girl to a group of the creatures - a very large group of creatures - in a large, dark, damp space. Then, after the girl was handed over, they swarmed over her and she disappeared into their midst. The most compelling part of the dream, though, was the exhilaration that he felt once the girl was given over. It was a joy that was indescribable to him. If there was a heaven, it would feel this way, he thought. Over the next few days the dreams became more vivid and more regular and then, bizarrely, they started to intrude on his waking hours. In the middle of everyday tasks, he would find himself being transported to the large dark space where he would repeat the ritual of handing the girl over. Each time the climax was exactly the same, as the feeling of ecstasy surged through his entire being. Then, after the vision had played itself out, he would return to reality, often minutes later, wondering what had happened, and feeling extremely depressed. Eventually, the visions became so all-consuming that Bill didn't think he would be able to continue living, and actually considered ending his own life to escape the torture. But, as he teetered on the brink of insanity and self-destruction, an extraordinary thing happened - he woke from one of his visions knowing that the girl from his dreams was real, and where he could find her. He couldn't comprehend how such a thing was possible, but in that moment an enormous weight was lifted from his soul, and he realised that it would be possible for his vision to become a reality and for him to actually experience a joy that would be limitless and beyond words. He had headed straight to 'Two Hills' with absolutely no doubt nor hesitation. Now, though, as he stood on the side of the road once more retching onto the bitumen, he knew that his dream was at risk.

He climbed slowly back into the car and stared at Gabby. The sun had risen and they were only about twenty minutes from Carswell. Bill knew that once he passed through the town it was then only a relatively short distance to reach his final goal. He didn't know the name of his destination, but just as he knew where the girl would be, he knew instinctively in which direction to travel. In some ways he felt as if an invisible string was tugging him along. He could no more resist its force than could a drowning man resist the hand of his rescuer. The girl didn't say a word as he started the car and pushed on with his mission, but as he glanced at her in the passenger seat, he knew instinctively that she was the cause of his pain and inner turmoil.

"What are you?" he asked, swallowing noticeably.

Gabby looked at him and considered her response, before stating, "You don't look good. Mum makes me lie down when I feel sick."

"You got that right. I feel like shit, and I think I know why. You're a fucking demon, aren't you? Sent to destroy me and steal my happiness."

Gabby, shocked by this grown-up's bad language, looked back to the road and didn't respond. She really had no idea what he was talking about, and besides, her mother had taught her to ignore people when they were disrespectful. Ignoring her silence, Bill tried again, more frantically this time.

"You're making me sick! What are you? Answer me!"

Gabby maintained her silence but she knew she was well out her depth with this strange man. Then tears began as she realised that she a very long way from Matt and Montana and that nobody was going to come to her rescue. Bill coughed violently next to her, doubling up in pain, and as he steered onto the gravel verge for just a second, she wondered if she actually was making him sick. She didn't think it sounded right, but perhaps it was true. There were lots of strange things happening in the world now, and maybe it was possible for a little girl like her to make a man sick. She'd never felt so alone and confused in her short life, not even after all the people went away and she was home alone for two days. So, in a childish attempt to make all the bad things go away, Gabby closed her eyes and tried to shut everything out. Almost immediately, however, she was jerked back to reality when Bill slammed on the car's brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Get out demon!" he ordered, as he climbed out of the driver's side.

Sobbing freely now, Gabby did as she was told and stepped out of the car onto the gravel verge. Bill came around to her side of the car and pointed to a large eucalypt a few metres from the edge of the road. Gabby could see that he had a gun in his hand, like the ones cowboys used.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, looking at him through a film of tears.

"Get over there," he said. "To that tree."

When Gabby didn't move, he raised the gun and pointed it at her face. "Get over to that tree now, or I'll blow your face clean off. Move it!"

Gabby turned and started walking to the tree, as Bill started puking again. She turned to look. He was doubled over in pain, but was still able to point the gun at her from his crouched position. "Keep moving!" he barked. Then, almost to himself, Bill mumbled something under his breath that Gabby didn't really understand at all. He said, "They won't like this."

Gabby reached the base of the tree and turned to her tormentor. Even through the tears, she could see that this man was extremely unwell. His skin had gone the colour of cold porridge and he had black circles under his eyes that looked like smudges of charcoal. He continued to point the gun at her face, despite the trembling in his arms.

"Turn around."

"Why?" Gabby asked, almost hysterical now. "What are you going to do?"

Bill brandished the pistol weakly at her. "I said turn around. Hurry up!"

Gabby did as she was told and faced the tree. The smooth bark of the grand, old eucalypt was only centimetres from her face as she felt the cold metal of the gun's barrel pressed against the base of her skull. As she waited for her young life to be extinguished, Gabby took in every single detail of the restricted view she now had of the world; the mottled beauty of the tree's bark, the clean smell and the shine of its leaves, the vibrant blue of the sky, and the lonely caw of a crow somewhere in the distance. She cherished all of these things in a segment of a moment, and let them fill her up like a tall glass of cold water on a very hot day. Then she closed her eyes as she heard the cold click of the gun's hammer being cocked behind her.
Chapter 58

Pursuit

Matt's ute sped through the early dawn, while Montana surveyed the countryside, hoping for any sign that Gabby and Bill had passed by. Apart from the occasional crow pecking at a dead animal on the side of the road, however, there was nothing. Their chances of finding Gabby were becoming more and more remote because if Bill was heading in any direction other than east, they were on a wild goose chase. They also realised that the beautiful little girl who had become such an important part of their lives might be dead already, although neither of them were brave enough to say it aloud.

"We'll be in Carswell soon," commented Matt, as they pushed forward, the tyres humming ominously beneath them.

"What if they're not there?" asked Montana, in a quiet, faltering tone.

Matt stared at the road ahead, squinting into the rising sun. He paused, and shook his head despondently, "I don't know."

"Matt, why do you think he took her? Really?"

He wound down his window and let the fresh morning air rush in before answering. "I'm not sure, but I think that he needs her for something. Almost like she's precious, or has some value to him. You've said it yourself, remember? You think she's special. So maybe she's worth having around? Maybe she really is some kind of protection against the feeders."

"Like a psychic human shield?"

"Maybe," he replied, realising how ludicrous it sounded. " I really don't know, I'm just trying to fit the pieces together."

Then the car crested a hill and Montana was shrieking, "Matt, look! Under the tree! Is that...?"

The words shrivelled up in her throat. The motionless body of Gabby was lying at the base of a large gum tree. Matt slowed the car down. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "It's her."

Montana was sobbing uncontrollably, as they ran to the girl, their hearts filled with anguish and self-loathing. How had it come to this? Why hadn't they been able to protect the precious life of this child? How could they have failed her? As Montana knelt to lift the limp body of Gabby up into her arms, Matt felt the tears welling up in his eyes as he relived the death of his father. Montana hugged the tiny figure to her chest and was shaking with grief. "Gabby, Gabby, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

Montana buried her face into Gabby's neck, tears mingling with the sweat on the girl's skin. Sweat? Dead people didn't sweat, she realised with a start!

"Matt! She's alive! Quick!"

Matt took the girl from Montana's arms and took her back to the car, where he laid her down on the front seat. He swept the hair from her face and placed his palm on her forehead.

"She's got a temperature, but she's alive."

"Oh my god! Oh my god! Thank god!" Montana exclaimed, shaking all over, but with relief in her voice now. "But why is she here, Matt? Where's Bill? Why did he leave her?"

Matt stroked Gabby's forehead as he answered, "Maybe he couldn't stand being around her. He's a bad man. He had to get away. Just like the feeders, who wouldn't go near her."

"My god! It's true isn't it? She's special! She's charmed or something! She has a gift!"

"It certainly seems like a distinct possibility," he replied, smiling.

Gabby began to stir. They watched as she wiggled her fingers for a few seconds before her eyes slowly opened. Montana leaned over and rubbed her back. "Hey gorgeous, how are you feeling?"

Gabby's eyes lit up as she saw the faces of her two guardians smiling at her. "You found me," she whispered.

"Yes darling," replied Montana, as the tears started up again. "We found you. Are you okay sweetheart? Did Bill hurt you?"

Gabby looked confused, as she answered, "No. He didn't. But he was going to do something bad. I didn't like it. I'm really tired," she said, as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep.

Matt and Montana looked at each other, before covering Gabby with Matt's jacket and softly closing the car door.

"What now?" asked Montana.

"We should head home, I guess," suggested Matt, a little uncertainly.

Matt could tell from her expression that Montana had other ideas. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"You'll think I'm silly," she said. "But I think we should have a quick look at Carswell while we're so close."

"What would we be looking for, exactly?"

"I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I have. Maybe I just want to see what Brock's up to. Maybe I want to find Bill and ask him why he took Gabby and then just dumped her on the side of the road. I can't explain it. I feel as if there's something else we need to find before we head home. Can we go a bit further?"

He nodded.

"Alright then. Ten more minutes."

-

They had been back on the road for a couple of minutes when they saw Matt's mother's car, stalled in the middle of the road ahead, with the driver's door wide open. Matt stopped and they studied the car from a safe distance.

"Do you think it's a trap?" asked Montana, as she absently stroked Gabby's head, who was still sound asleep on her lap.

"Maybe, but I think I can see Bill in the front seat."

"What's he doing?"

"Just sitting there, I think. We're too far away. We need to get closer."

"What if it's a trick?"

"Then we'll have to be trickier," he replied, sounding more confident than he felt.

Matt peered through his windscreen at his mother's little blue car. It had taken him many places as a young boy, and even from this distance he could still make out the sticker on the back window that said "Mum's Taxi". Now the vehicle appeared menacing and evil as it sat silently in the middle of the road, with it's door open, like a mouth waiting to be fed.

"Stay here with Gabby. I'm going to check it out."

Montana grabbed his arm. "No Matt! This was a bad idea. Let's just turn around and go home. It's a trick!"

"I have to go and find out what happened," he said. "You know that. We can't run from things any more. We have to find out what he wanted with Gabby. If he tries anything, I'll shoot him, no worries."

"Promise you'll be careful."

"I promise."

Matt reached down behind passenger seat and pulled out his gun. He flicked the safety off, and smiled at Montana.

"If you see anything unusual, lean on that horn and give me a warning. I'll come straight back, and we'll get out of here, okay?"

"Sure," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "We'll be waiting here for you."

Matt surveyed the surrounding farmland before getting out of the car. The fields were grazing pastures with no obvious hiding places to launch an ambush from. Matt figured that Bill was either in the car, or nowhere near here at all. He opened his door, climbed out. When he was sure that there was no movement, he starting walking.

Matt kept his gun trained on the car. The risen sun was directly in his eyes as he moved forward, but there was no sign of movement up ahead. The cold and calculating way in which Bill had betrayed him, had left Matt feeling angry and bitter, but he still hoped that he wouldn't need to use his weapon. He'd seen enough death to last him a thousand lifetimes, and now that Gabby had been found safely, Matt just wanted to satisfy his curiosity about Bill's motives and move on. Sure, he would shoot the man if necessary, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

He was almost halfway to the car and could almost make out the figure in the driver's seat. Yes, that was definitely a person, and just for a second Matt thought he saw a flicker of movement within the car. He stopped walking and squinted into the sunlight. There it was again, a sudden flash of something moving in the driver's seat! What was Bill up to? There was no indication that Matt, has been spotted but just to be safe, he crouched down and, for the last twenty metres or so, snuck up to the rear bumper of the car. Because he was almost crawling, Matt couldn't see into the car any more, but was close enough to hear something inside moving furtively, secretly, as if someone was doing something they shouldn't. He couldn't hear any voices, but every now and then there was a sound like sheets on a clothesline blowing in the wind. He looked back towards his car where Montana was waiting for him. She had not sounded the horn, so it was probably as safe as it would ever be to check out the inside of the vehicle. Matt kept low and crept around to the open driver's door.

Still in the crouch position, Matt braced himself by leaning his left shoulder against the rear passenger door of the car, and raised his weapon, ready to shoot. He took a deep breath, counted to three, and stood up, swinging the gun around into the open door, with his finger firmly on the trigger, prepared to shoot. A black shape lunged at Matt's face. He close his eyes and fire the weapon blindly, as the wings of a crow burst out of the car on its flight to freedom through the open door. His heart was galloping like a runaway horse, and when he opened his eyes he was confronted with the dead body of Bill in the drivers seat. In the background Matt registered the beating of wings, as the bird flew away, into the clear blue sky. He took a moment to study the violent tableau before him. The top of Bill's skull was gone, blown away by the handgun that dangled limply in his right hand, and the kidnapper's brains were now plastered to the white vinyl roof of Matt's mother's Daihatsu, like a crazy modern painting. The crow, that had almost scared Matt to death, had made short work of Bill's eyeballs, and the now hollow sockets and open mouth made him look like somebody who had just been given a big fright. With the sound of flies buzzing furiously in his ears, Matt turned his gaze away from the grisly scene and walked back to Montana and Gabby.

Halfway back, he saw Montana and Gabby climb out walk around to wait at the front of the car. His panicky gunshot had probably woken the little girl, but standing there in the early dawn light, Matt thought she looked okay, and didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects from her abduction. When he reached them, he hugged them both. "Sorry, I freaked out a bit there. It was just a crow. Bill's dead."

Montana looked at him, concern written over her face. "I've changed my mind, can we just go home now please? I don't want to go to Carswell any more."

He smiled at her. "Absolutely, I'll tell you about it later."

They climbed tiredly into the car and sat Gabby up between them. As Montana was buckling her seatbelt Matt held a finger up and cocked his head. They all heard it. Matt wound down his window, and Montana followed suit. She looked at him worriedly.

"That's a car!"

"Yes," said Matt. "Coming from Carswell!"

They watched through the windscreen, down the straight stretch of road where an engine droned, just out of sight. For a few tantalising seconds time seemed to stand still as they waited for the vehicle to appear. Then on the horizon, like an apparition, a single dot appeared and grew in size as it drew closer to the exposed trio.

"What will we do?" asked Montana, now nervous again.

Matt looked around. There was nowhere to hide, and no time for that anyway. The car continued to speed towards them.

"Get down on the floor!" he barked, as he picked up his gun and stepped out of the car.

The sound of the vehicle was louder now, and Matt knew that it would only be half a minute or so before it reached them. He cocked his weapon and let it hang, unthreateningly by his side, as he took a deep breath and waited in the middle of the road.
Chapter 59

The Caged Feeders

"Let's just shoot them and get out of here!" exclaimed Bonnie.

Dylan didn't respond, but instead peered into the metal cage where the two creatures were sleeping.

Sally squeezed his hand, "Please Dylan, I don't want to be this close! They're dangerous! Let's go!"

He snatched his hand away from hers and snarled, "I am not leaving here until I've killed those things!"

Sally moved away, surprised and upset by his outburst.

Bonnie had been watching the exchange, and now tried to calm Dylan's mood. "Okay. That's fine. Let's kill them. But can we do it quickly please. I need to find Gabby. We're so close now!"

Dylan turned around and gave the two women a confused look, as if just noticing them for the first time.

"What?" he asked.

"I said, let's get out of here. Hurry up and shoot them so we can go find Gabby."

"Oh. Sure."

Sally spoke, "Dylan, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah I guess so. It's just that we have these things in captivity and seems like a waste to just kill them."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Bonnie, incredulously. "A waste? Who cares? What do you want to do? Keep one as a pet?"

Dylan looked at Bonnie, who was staring him down, hands on hips. He still seemed confused, but continued, "No, of course not. I just feel like we could learn something about them while they're alive. Maybe we could wait until they wake up and follow them. We could maybe track them to their lair and wipe out thousands of them at once."

Bonnie snorted then replied, as if she were explaining something to a small child. "Okay Dylan honey, listen carefully. I know you're really upset about losing your daughter. As a mother I understand that, and my heart aches for you, but my daughter's still alive, and I need to get to her. Also, if we open that cage and wait for those things to wake up tonight, they'll most likely attack us and we'll have to shoot them anyway. So why don't we just shoot them now, while they're asleep, and we can study their dead bodies really quickly. Then we can go find Gabby. What do you say?"

For a moment Sally thought that Dylan was going to explode, as he held his breath and stared at Bonnie. Instead he smiled and said, "You're right. That's what we should do \- kill them, then go find Gabby."

Sally breathed a huge sigh of relief as Dylan picked up his gun that had been leaning against the outside of the cage. She was concerned, though, that his moods seemed to change so quickly lately. There was an anger that seemed to be bubbling away under the surface and that scared her. She knew that he was suffering intensely from the death of his daughter, but that was little comfort to her in moments when he seemed barely able to control his fury.

"They might wake up remember?" said Sally, Dylan smashed the lock.

"Yeah. I'll be ready for them this time," he said, as he opened the gate.

Dylan stepped into the enclosure and stood still. There was no movement from inside the dark kennel, where the creatures were lying, but he could see that Bonnie and Sally were anxious nonetheless. He moved forward. He was standing only a metre or so from the chest-high opening, and noticed that the stench from the beasts was much stronger here. He trained the gun into the darkness and crouched down as he took another pace forward. As he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he listened for any sound that might indicate that the zombies had woken up. He heard nothing. After a minute or so, Dylan was able to make out the vague shapes of the creatures on the floor. He marvelled at how pale they had become; almost like corpses. They were become much thinner now than an average human. They were changing somehow, and as he studied the creatures, he almost forgot why he was there. It was only when Bonnie hissed at him from outside the cage, that he snapped back to reality and pointed his gun at the closest beast. That's right, he thought absently, they need to be killed. This time, unlike the warehouse, there was no drama. Dylan shot a bullet into the head of the first zombie, and as the other one roused from its hibernation, he fired accurately and without hesitation, thereby releasing the creature from the hell of its own pointless existence.

A couple of minutes later the three travellers stood in the long grass, beneath a brilliant blue sky with the corpses of two zombies at their feet. Dylan had dragged them out from their lair unceremoniously while Sally and Bonnie watched on in disgust. They had expected to see some changes in the creatures, but were surprised by the pace of the transformation. The most obvious variation was their skin colour, which had changed from soft and human into something much more rugged and heavily textured.

"That's crazy," exclaimed Sally. "How do you go from human skin to whatever that is in such a short time?"

"I don't know," answered Dylan, "But it looks tough, doesn't it? Almost like leather."

"Yeah," added Bonnie. "And what about those fingernails? They're scary! They're becoming like lizard claws or something."

"They're not human any more are they?" asked Sally.

"No. And you know what else?" Dylan added. "They're really cold. When I pulled them out of the cage their ankles weren't warm at all. They felt as cold as snakes. Touch one."

"No thanks!" said Bonnie, "But that's scary news all the same."

"Why?" asked Sally.

"Because it means their whole physiology is changing. They're evolving. Quickly."

"Bullshit! That's not possible surely," Dylan challenged.

Bonnie smiled, "I think anything's possible now, don't you?"
Chapter 60

A Car Approaches

Matt stood with his gun by his side in the middle of the road, as the vehicle approached from the east. It was probably survivors heading away from the city, but after his experience with Bill, it seemed wise to exercise extreme caution. He waved his left arm above his head to signal his presence and watched as the vehicle came to a stop about fifty metres from his position. His heart was beating faster, and he realised how vulnerable he was, standing there alone, exposed to whoever was hidden in the car. If they were looking for trouble, Matt knew that a well-placed bullet could end his life at that moment, and the girls would be left to defend themselves. The only sound Matt could hear was the ticking of his ute's engine as it cooled and the sullen cry of a crow somewhere in the distance. For almost a minute the standoff continued, as both parties waited for the other to make a move. Frustrated by waiting, and in an attempt to show that he meant no harm, Matt squatted down and laid his gun on the warm bitumen of the road. It was a risk, but he felt that whoever was in the car, would have shown their aggression by now, if that was their intention. He stood erect and looked straight ahead with his arms slightly away from his side, palms toward the car, showing that he was unarmed, in one final statement of goodwill. Perhaps spurred on by Matt's gesture, the driver's door of the vehicle swung open with a metallic squeal that pierced the silence like the cry of a banshee. Then, without warning, Matt heard a click behind him, and jerked his head around to see Gabby getting out.

"Gabby! No! Get back in the car!" he screamed, as he reached down to pick up his gun.

She paid him no attention, however, and began running as fast as she could toward the car stopped on the road up ahead.

Suddenly things were happening in a blur, as Montana sprang from the back seat and sprinted after the little girl, not far behind Matt. To the east, three figures, silhouetted by the rising sun, leapt from their vehicle and began sprinting towards the girl frantically.

"They want Gabby!" yelled Montana, as Matt raised his gun, aiming it at the closest figure. He was about to pull the trigger and shoot, when he heard a female voice call Gabby's name in an anguished cry that seemed to come from a place that was deep and timeless. Then, just before firing, at the point where things could have gone bad, very quickly, Matt released his finger from the trigger of the gun, thereby ensuring that Gabby and her mother might have the opportunity to become a family once more.

-

As Bonnie ran down the road towards her daughter, she registered somewhere deep in the back of her mind that a young man was pointing a gun at her. She also knew that sudden death was the only thing that would stop her from reaching her child as quickly as possible. Bonnie screamed Gabby's name and waited for the bullet that would take her life, but there are times when things happen as they should, based on nothing more than the a person being a split second away from making one decision or another. So Matt didn't fire his weapon, and this turned out to be one of those times.

Bonnie was on her knees in the middle of the road, welded to Gabby as they cried together. Matt and Montana stood side by side watching the moving reunion. A girl walked over to them, and an older male, dressed in black, who was limping towards them with his hand held out towards the pair.

"Hello. I'm Dylan. This is Sally." He pointed at Bonnie. "I'm guessing you've worked out who that is."

Matt shook their hands and introduced himself and Montana. "I nearly shot her," he whispered. "I could have killed Gabby's mother!"

Dylan clasped Matt's shoulder. "But you didn't. So it's all good, right?"

"I guess so," said Matt, still upset.

Bonnie was still hugging Gabby, went Matt went over to her. He was troubled by his willingness to kill somebody who was no threat to him and needed to speak to her - to make it right, somehow. The woman was whispering into Gabby's ear, but Matt couldn't hear what was being said. He touched her on the shoulder, and she turned to him.

"I'm Matt, " he said. "I thought you were going to take her. I was going to shoot you. I'm sorry. I was scared."

"Has my daughter been with you?"

"Yes. With Montana and me," he replied, cautiously.

Bonnie was silent, as she stroked Gabby's hair. Her face gave away nothing as she considered the two young people who had taken her daughter into their custody since the event. A smile creased the corner of her mouth as she put Gabby down on the road.

"You've done a good job," she stated, before taking both of them into her arms and hugging them in a way that said more than a thousand words ever could.

-

It took over an hour for everyone to tell their tales of survival, and when they were finished new bonds had been forged, despite their personal sorrows. Bonnie turned white with fear when Matt told the story of finding Gabby alone in Millfield, but she hugged her daughter tighter and tried not to imagine the horrors she had endured. The account of Gabby's abduction by Bill had been difficult for Matt to retell, but he tried to make it sound less frightening than it had been and kept the gruesome details of Bill's suicide to a minimum, to spare Gabby. He tried to focus on the positives of their last couple of weeks as much as he could, including the sanctuary they had created at 'Two Hills', but as they took turns recounting their versions of events since the rise of the feeders, the group became quieter, and their previously jubilant mood became more subdued, as they relived one nightmare after another - stories of cities on fire, lairs filled with sleepers, fathers returning as zombies, planes crashing, narrow escapes from feeders, a daughter devoured by her mother, attacks by marauders, psychopaths in country towns, the feeder migration, the warehouse extermination, and Gabby's abduction. All of these things, spoken aloud as a litany of terror, in a landscape devoid of people, seemed to suggest a future filled with only hardship, emptiness and fear. Amongst all that negativity, loneliness and fear, however, there was one small spark of light in the darkness, and she spoke now. "Can we go home, please? I'm bored."

-

Two hours later, everybody was back at 'Two Hills', and making themselves at home, as much as they could. Montana invited Sally to share her room, while Bonnie and Gabby made themselves comfortable in the guest bedroom. Dylan was disappointed that he wouldn't be sharing a room with Sally, but understood that he was living under someone else's roof, so he agreed to sleep on the couch in the living room. They could work out more intimate sleeping arrangements later, when everyone got to know each other better.

Dylan and Sally brought in some personal belongings from the car and after they had settled into their new rooms, cleaned up a bit, they gathered in the large kitchen to prepare a late lunch. Nobody had eaten much since the previous evening, and a large communal meal would give everyone an opportunity to relax and get to know each other. Matt thawed out sausages and steaks to barbecue, while Montana showed Sally around the kitchen as they prepared a salad together. Bonnie was in the bedroom catching up with Gabby, while Dylan explored the farm. Matt set the table for lunch on the front veranda, and lit the barbecue so that it would have ten minutes to get really hot for the steaks.

A little later, while he was wiping down the hotplate with a sheet of paper towel Dylan come up the front path from where the cars had been parked, with a beer in each hand. He climbed the steps and passed one of the bottles to Matt as he watched him clean the barbecue plate.

"This is a nice place you have here. You've done well to get that fence up so quickly."

"Thanks. It was hard work, but I sleep better now. Or I will anyway, now that Gabby's back."

"The lights are a good idea too. Sensors?"

"Yeah, but I think Bill disabled them. I'll try to fix them after lunch."

"I'll give you a hand," said Dylan.

"Great," said Matt as he balled up the greasy paper towel and threw it into a small bin beside the barbecue. "It's really great to have you guys here with us. I feel much better now we have people here that I trust."

"Thanks man, it's really good to be here. Everybody seems nice. Not like some people I've met since the event."

Matt laughed. "That's for sure. People seem to have gone to one extreme or the other. Look at Bill. I bet he was just a regular guy before the event. Then, with society in tatters, he becomes a kidnapper."

"Yeah, like the marauders. Scary."

Matt threw some sausages on the barbecue where they sizzled and smoked. As he watched the pink skins begin to turn brown, he thought about an issue that he wanted to raise with Dylan while nobody else was around. It was a difficult question, but one that he felt needed answering, by somebody. He prodded a sausage absently with the end of a pair of metal tongs and spoke.

"Hey Dylan, you've seen a lot more of these feeders than I have."

Dylan scratched his wounded thigh and nodded in agreement, "Yes, I suppose I have."

Matt turned a sausage before continuing, "What chance of survival do you think we have?"

Dylan took a swig of his beer and considered his response. Finally he answered Matt's question with one of his own, "Do you mean us, or the human species?"

Matt stopped fiddling with the meat on the barbecue and turned to look his new friend in the eye, "Don't you think it's the same thing?"
Chapter 61

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"It's early in the morning and I'm sitting on the front veranda with my journal, a cup of coffee and a bowl of muesli (thank goodness for powdered milk). I haven't written for a few days because I wanted to give myself some headspace. These are the first days since the "event" (as we all call it now) where I've had a chance to slow down and consider my state of mind and what the future might hold for us survivors_

_Matt's farm is beautiful. It's called "Two Hills" and is very pretty, like something from a child's storybook. Being here has given us a chance to recuperate from the horrors we've endured over the last week or so, and at times you could almost imagine that outside of the big fence, everything is normal. Those moments don't last very long, however, and it's not unusual to walk into a room and find somebody crying on their own as they think of the family and friends they have lost. It's weird what can set you off crying now \- things you don't expect. Like yesterday. I was sitting out on the front veranda after lunch, daydreaming, and I started to think about the places I used to visit on the weekends. One of my most treasured places was the State Art Gallery. Every time there was a new exhibition I'd catch a train to the city and walk through the parks to the gallery and check out the new works. Then I'd go to the rooms that housed the masterpieces and visit old favourites by artists like Picasso or Monet. Looking at these beautiful works made me think of the incredible achievements human beings have made over just a few short millennia, and it made me proud of us as a species. But then I started to think about what the gallery would look like now. It has probably become a nesting place for feeders, which means that it would be filled with rotting corpses, excrement and filth. The artworks would still be hanging (if they hadn't been destroyed to build nests with) and yet there will never again be an appreciative audience for them. I know that is a strange thing to get upset about, given everything else that's happened, but I just broke down and sobbed for ages. Then Dylan came by, and when I told him why I was crying he just raised his eyebrows and kept going, as if I was being really stupid._

_On the whole, though, everybody's getting on with things and we're relieved to have a few days where we don't have to consider that we might actually die. It's really touching to see Bonnie and Gabby back together. They hardly leave each other's side, and Gabby had great fun showing the "new arrivals" around the farm. She was especially proud of the bookmobile classroom and told Bonnie that Montana was her "teacher". It was so cute. Matt is a really nice boy and he has made sure that we all feel at home. I think it's been good for him to have another male around the place, because Dylan and him spend most of their time doing things around the farm that will give us a reliable and sustainable future (we hope). They spent most of yesterday making the fence stronger by running barbed wire across the top and electrifying it, like you would for cattle. But we all know it's not to keep cows out! Bonnie is pretty handy too, and she has taken control of the food situation and the vegetable garden. She showed Montana and I how to make bread from flour, yeast, and water and insists that it won't be long before we're experts. Every time I catch myself doing something "farmsy", like pulling weeds or feeding the chickens, I have a little chuckle to myself, because it's so not me! My self-image has always been as the artsy, sophisticated, city slicker yet here I am getting around for most of the day covered in dirt and doing jobs that I didn't even realise existed._

_Montana is the one who surprises me the most, though. She's so strong under pressure. We had some time alone yesterday, while the boys went into town (more about that later) and Bonnie was in the classroom with Gabby. We were picking vegetables for dinner and she told me about the things she'd been through since the event, and I just got a feeling that she's got the skills and attitude to survive this crazy, post-civilisation world really well. Whatever happens to us, I think she'll adapt and find a way to carry on. She comes across as a bit glamorous (she still puts makeup on every morning), but she's really tough and unflappable._

_The boys went to town yesterday morning to get the fencing supplies and came back with some really interesting news. They encountered a band of survivors passing through town, who had stopped to fill up their cars with petrol. Altogether there were six people in two cars. They had left the city just two days ago, and said that plenty of others were doing the same. According to them, some survivors were having really strong dreams about a place out west that was like a gathering place. They described it to Matt and Dylan and said that it was as if they were being called, and they had to follow, regardless of how strange it seemed. They weren't sure exactly where they were heading, but they were hoping that their future dreams would guide them. They said they had nothing to lose, anyway, because the cities were destroyed and they wanted to start over somewhere new, somewhere with no memories. They told the boys that there was no fear in the dreams, just a sense of going to a place where they would belong. When Matt told us the story he wondered if the place they were dreaming about was Diamond Creek, the town that Bill had mentioned. It sounded as if it could be true, anyway. It's very strange to think that people are leaving the old ways behind so quickly, so willingly. I wonder how future generations will view the remnants of our world? Sometimes I wonder if there will even be future generations!_

_The other thing the travellers told Matt and Dylan was that the feeders are becoming more active again. They said that people who were not finding strong places to sleep at night were being killed. The creatures seem to be getting not only stronger, but also more cunning. The boys were told stories of creatures breaking into houses to feed on resting travellers. It seems like the only truly safe place for survivors now is in the daylight, or strongly fortified buildings. We haven't seen any feeders near the farm but we know we can't take anything for granted. Last night the lights outside the farm's fence were triggered, but when we went out to check, we just found a small group of kangaroos passing through. Let's hope that's all we have to worry about!_

_Montana's just joined me for breakfast, so I'll stop now._

_It's almost ten o'clock now and everybody else is in bed (we rise early in the country!). I'm writing at the kitchen table while listening to Dylan snore in the living room. Guess what? We had a visitor this afternoon. It was a lady by the name of Violet. She was eighty-three years old! We were all pottering around the farm, doing chores and stuff, when she just came strolling up the front path like she was dropping in for a cup of tea and a chat (we don't lock the big front gate during the day). I almost dropped my basket of eggs from shock when I noticed her! She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a baseball cap that said Funk! She had a backpack on, and looked extremely weary, but was excited to see us, nevertheless. I made her sit in the shade of the veranda and went inside to get her a cool drink. When I came back she had been joined by Montana and the boys who were listening to her tell her tale. She, too, had experienced "the dream", and felt compelled to head west, like the others. She had walked some of the way (a fit old bird, that's for sure), but had accepted occasional lifts also, which was how she ended up in Millfield. Three travellers who were heading west had picked her up near Carswell, but she asked them to drop her off at Millfield. When we asked why, her reply amazed us. She looked at us and simply said, "I wanted to see the girl."_

_The three of us sat there, scarcely comprehending what we had just heard. Dylan was the first to speak up, "What girl, Violet? We don't know what you're talking about."_

_She gave Dylan the sweetest, most beatific smile you could imagine and said, "Nice try, honey. I understand why you want to protect her, but you don't need to worry. I just want to see her once before I continue on. I'm no danger to her. I couldn't be this close to her and not try to meet her."_

_Then Violet told us about the other dream she'd been having. The one where she feels she is in terrible danger, and is saved only by the presence of a little girl - our little girl. Gabby! Apparently Violet sensed her presence more strongly as she got closer to Millfield. Then she just started walking and ended up here at the farm. She looked at us and said, "I knew she was real. Can I please see her? Then I'll leave you alone. It would mean so much to me."_

_We weren't sure what to do, but our decision was made for us when Gabby and Bonnie came out of the classroom. We all stood up and I could tell that the boys were on high alert in case something went wrong (like it had with Bill). It didn't though. Gabby walked up to Violet and said hello politely, at which time Violet started to cry. "It's her," she said. "It really is."_

_Gabby looked and Bonnie and said, "Mummy, why is she crying?" but Bonnie just shook her head and took Gabby's hand and took her inside the house to have a bath._

_Violet didn't ask to stay the night, and nobody offered, but Dylan did drive her back into town, and made sure she had somewhere secure to sleep for the night. The old woman was confident that she would be able to get a ride with travellers tomorrow morning so that she could continue her journey west and find the place from her dreams. Dylan said that before he left town to come home, Violet grabbed him be the arm and told him that there would be others stopping by the farm to see Gabby, adding, "She's special you see." Dylan said he felt a chill as he wished the old woman good luck for her journey._

_During dinner nobody talked much about the traveller's dreams because I think it scared us so much. We seem to be in the eye of a hurricane that we don't understand. It is becoming clearer with each passing day that the little girl is going to be a key figure in our new world, but none of us can comprehend how. I have a feeling that Gabby is the only one of us who is sleeping soundly tonight._
_Chapter 62_

_A New Beginning_

For the six survivors, life at 'Two Hills' became almost mundane in the months that followed. They had been forced together by extreme circumstances, but despite that, they found solace in each other's company and developed a bond that was more like that of a family than a group of friends. As the days grew shorter and the nights grew colder they developed a daily routine that gave them a sense of normalcy and purpose - a reason to get up each morning and carry on. Each member of the group took it upon himself or herself to be responsible for chores around the farm, and in time their lives developed a rhythm and purpose that helped ease the pain of their individual losses.

Not surprisingly, the glue that bound them together, more than anything else, was Gabby. She adored farm life and thrived intellectually and emotionally, buoyed by the love she received from her new family. In turn, her optimism and spirit inspired them when they were down and forced everyone to be strong when it would have been so easy to quit on the world, and descend into some dark hole and slowly fade away. Matt, in particular, had found the going tough since the event, and had been through a second bout of depression that lasted almost a week, but with Gabby's welfare to consider and his friends supporting him, he found a way through the darkness and soon his positive outlook resurfaced. On the whole, though, the mood at the farm was upbeat, which was extraordinary given the sickening events they had been through, and relationships either strengthened and turned passionate, or became comfortable and pleasant. After two nights in separate bedrooms, Dylan and Sally negotiated swaps with the others and began sleeping in the same room, which had the knock-on effect of hastening the embryonic association between Matt and Montana. Matt had suggested that Montana should share his bed in the name of convenience and safety, but they both knew that he had been attracted to her since they first met, and it was clear that Montana felt the same way. Their first night together was an experience that Matt would never forget, and with the warmth of her naked body beside him in the darkness, he felt that it might just be possible to live a life that was somehow fulfilling, despite the loss of his parents and the ever-present horror of the feeders.

Unlike the stability of life inside the fence at 'Two Hills', however, the world outside the farm was becoming more erratic and dangerous with each passing week. The number of travellers heading west had grown slightly each day, and whenever Matt and Dylan went into Millfield to find supplies, they encountered small groups of survivors, refuelling their vehicles or loading up on canned food, before resuming their journey west. Occasionally someone would ask about "the girl" and Matt would shrug his shoulders and deny any knowledge of Gabby before suggesting that it might be in their best interest to keep moving while it was safe. This was usually enough encouragement for the visitors to leave. But at least once a week, a more determined type of pilgrim would arrive directly at the farm and ask to see "the girl", saying they were duty-bound to complete a personal pilgrimage based on a vision they'd had. The gate at 'Two Hills' remained closed to them, however, and they usually resumed their passage to the west without much fuss once they realised that there would be no further negotiations.

In the beginning, each time a traveller was encountered in Millfield, Matt would make a point of asking them why they were heading west, and each time their answers were similar - they'd had a dream in which they would find safety somewhere "to the west" and they felt compelled to make a pilgrimage in that direction. When Matt asked how they would know when they'd arrived at their destination, they would just shrug their shoulders and say something like, "We don't know. We'll just know when we get there." After one of these typical conversations Matt turned to Dylan and asked, "Why aren't we having the dreams?" Without hesitation, Dylan responded, "We don't need to find sanctuary. We have Gabby."

The one thing that the travellers confirmed beyond argument, though, was that the feeders were becoming more active. Whatever the reason for the earlier mass migration of the beasts, it was obvious that they were beginning to venture further afield once more, and were just as hungry for flesh as they had ever been. Matt, Dylan and Montana had made a few raids into town to wipe out nests of feeders, but the creatures were getting better at hiding, and after some wasted days when they had found no nests, they eventually gave up on the task. Stories of people attacked on the road after dark, however, were not unusual, and one man told Matt and Dylan about a group of six travellers who were attacked and devoured by a large group of feeders in Carswell while they slept. The most disturbing aspect of that story was that the victims had stopped in the town well and truly before dark, and had thought themselves safe on the second floor of a locked building. A lone traveller who stumbled upon the grisly scene discovered that the feeders had found a way into the building through a locked window on the third floor, which meant that they were becoming not only more agile, but also more adept at getting past basic security measures. After hearing about that incident, Matt and Dylan made a decision to strengthen the fence at the farm even further upon their return.

-

Late one afternoon, after the day's work around the farm had been completed, Matt and Dylan were sitting on the front veranda as a light drizzle began to fall. The smoke from the fireplace was giving the cool evening air a pleasant earthy smell and they each had a home-brewed beer, from which they sipped contentedly. Dylan broke the silence with a loud belch. "That beer's good."

"Very good," replied Matt.

"Dinner smells good, too."

"Yep. Don't forget it's our turn to cook tomorrow."

They looked at each other and replied simultaneously, "Barbecue!"

Their laughter rang out and was gradually lost into the falling rain, and they settled back into a comfortable silence. After a minute or so Dylan spoke, "Hey Matt, do you think we're doing the right thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think it's right to stay here at the farm? To just look after ourselves?"

Matt put his empty beer bottle on the floor and looked at Dylan. "I don't think I understand the question. What do you mean?"

Dylan shook his head, almost unsure how to respond. "I don't know man. We're pretty comfortable now, and we don't seem to be in any danger from the feeders, but is that fair? Shouldn't we be doing more? Like those people heading west? Helping to rebuild society or something? Lately I've been thinking about doing more."

"We are contributing! We're caring for Gabby and the girls aren't we? And, besides, this is my home. I belong here. I don't know how to answer you. I'm as happy as I could be, given what's happened. What else do you think we could be doing?"

Dylan chugged the last dregs of his beer and placed the empty bottle on the timber floor, only to see it topple over and rolled off the edge of the porch. He looked at Matt and said, "You could come with me."

"What? Go where with you? Out west? That would be crazy! We have no idea what we'd find out there!"

"Hey man, settle. It's okay. I don't want to go west."

"Where then? Back to the city?"

"Not exactly."

Matt stared at his friend, frustration etched on his face as he waited for an answer. The rain was heavier now and in the silence between Matt's question and Dylan's answer, a thousand raindrops pattered ominously on the tin roof of the farmhouse. Finally he looked at Matt with an expression that was something between a smile and challenge, "I want to go zombie hunting again; and I want you to come with me."
Chapter 63

The Plan

They were sitting around the kitchen table eating dinner when Dylan shared his plan.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bonnie exclaimed. "Why on earth would you want to go hunting for feeders? We're perfectly safe here. We have food and water and enough fuel to power the generator for years. Why risk your life on such a pointless pursuit? And what about Sally? Are you just going to wander off into the sunset and leave her behind to worry about you?"

Dylan looked at Sally, who was staring at her plate of half finished vegetables as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Look Sally, I'm sorry. I should have told you. I know that, but I had to make this decision on my own. This is my personal issue to deal with. I want to make a difference. I want to wipe out as many of these zombies, or feeders, or whatever you want to call them, as I can. I hate them, and I just can't sit around on this farm knowing they're getting more aggressive and more cunning. I need to try. I know it doesn't make sense, but what does make sense any more?"

It was silent now, apart from the sound of Sally's sniffling and the rain drumming on the roof as the storm outside intensified. Montana looked at Matt, who was giving nothing away, and then at Bonnie, who was shaking her head in disbelief. Finally she directed her attention at Dylan who looked as if he was getting ready to get up and leave the table.

"Well?" she challenged. "What's your plan? You can't just roam around the world on your own, killing zombies. That won't make much of a difference, will it?"

"I won't be on my own," he stated, dropping his second bombshell for the evening. "Matt's coming with me."

"What?" Bonnie and Montana shouted in unison, scarcely able to believe their ears.

"You're joking, I hope!" continued Montana. "Matt? You wouldn't leave us would you? Tell me he's just bullshitting."

Matt took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before answering. He looked at his new family, comfortable in his parents' home, and wondered what he had gotten himself into. He had thought that going with Dylan to the caves might help him achieve some sort of closure, where his parents were concerned, but now he was having second thoughts. The looks of concern, including Gabby's, who was quiet and letting the adults deal with their own affairs, made him think that he was being foolish. Despite his misgivings, though, he tried to explain his decision. "Listen, it's not what you think, okay? We're not going off into the wilderness forever to hunt the feeders like cowboys. We've given it some thought and we both think that we might be able to have an impact on the feeder population. We think we have to try anyway."

"Okay, I'll bite," said Bonnie, sceptically, taking a sip of wine. "What's your great plan?"

Before Matt had a chance to answer, though, Sally interjected sharply. "I can't listen to any more of this. Come on Gabby, let's go to bed. I'll read you a story."

After they had left the room, Montana got the conversation started again. "Well, let's hear it boys. What are you thinking? I'm really curious. Is it a suicide mission?"

"Of course it's not!" snapped Dylan. "That would be bloody stupid. I have no desire to die. I happen to like being alive, so don't think this is some kind of death wish we have. If anything, we want to make a stand so that we have a world worth living in. Maybe if enough of us around the world fight back, we can drive these things into the dark forever, where they belong."

"Hey Dylan, we get it okay?" chided Montana, "You hate the feeders. Fine. You want to wipe them out? Go your hardest. All I want to know is, what's your plan?"

Matt could see that Dylan was getting too emotional to answer the question sensibly, so he took over. "I'm not sure that we have a plan as such; we just have an idea. Dylan thinks that the feeders might have established some kind of colony in the Delano Cave system."

Montana scrutinised Matt's face. "What do you think?"

He returned Montana's gaze and thought carefully before answering. "Well, I think they went somewhere after the migration, so it's a possibility, I guess."

Bonnie spoke. "Let's assume you two are right. Let's agree, for argument's sake, that the feeders migrated to dark, hidden places where they could regroup, or establish some kind of colony to breed, or rest or get stronger or whatever the hell feeders do. How does that help us? What can you do about it?"

"We can do what humans are so good at," said Dylan.

"And what's that?" asked Bonnie.

"We can destroy their habitat," he said, matter-of-factly. "And we can do it while they're still in it."

-

The following morning dawned bright and clear and all of the talk on the farm was of the mission to wipe out the feeders at the Delano Caves. Sally was the only one who seemed to think that the idea was a ridiculous one, and she was avoiding further conversations about the topic by spending time with Gabby and doing chores around the house. Bonnie and Montana, on the other hand, had warmed to the idea overnight and were walking the boundary fence with Matt and Dylan, despite the fact that this was normally only a one-person job.

"I used to go to the caves with my parents," said Matt. "It's about a three hour drive. If we planned it properly, we could get there and back in a day. Theoretically, anyway."

"I think that's the least of our problems," stated Dylan. "How do we actually destroy them? I mean, obviously an explosion of some sort is the best way to go, but how do we make a bomb big enough to destroy a cave system, or even a part of it?"

There was an awkward pause, as they realised nobody was experienced in building explosive devices.

"Damn!" spat Dylan. "This is ridiculous! Does anybody even know where we would find enough explosives to make this work? If we knew how to make a bomb, that is."

"Maybe," replied Matt, as he pulled on a section of the wire fence to test its strength.

They looked at him with surprise and anticipation.

"Well?" prompted Dylan. "Are you going to tell us, or keep it a secret?"

"Okay, keep your shirt on," Matt replied with a grin on his face. "There's a whole bunch of explosives locked up down at the council works depot."

"Where you got Gabby's bookmobile?" asked Montana.

"Exactly. There's a whole storeroom full of the things you need to blow stuff up."

"I haven't seen that storeroom," Dylan challenged, "and I've been down to the depot with you heaps of times."

"I found it not long after I started plundering from the depot. I didn't think I'd ever need explosives, so I never went into that storeroom again. I just locked it up and ignored it, but it should all still be there."

"So," said Bonnie. "This crazy plan might actually work. How are we going to find out how to build our device, though? It's not like we can just Google it."

They started walking the fence line again. "I've been thinking about this all night," Matt responded, "and I reckon we might just be able to work it out for ourselves, if we're very cautious and very sensible."

"I don't think anything about this idea is sensible," Montana interjected, "but go on, let's hear it."

"The Millfield Council has a stockpile of explosives right? They probably used them for road construction or up at the gravel quarry. Somebody at the council must have been trained in how to use them, so in one of the offices somewhere, there's probably a pile of manuals or notes or files that can give us enough information to put all the pieces together into some sort of bomb that will destroy the caves and thousands of feeders at the same time."

They had reached the end of their circuit. Dylan spat on the ground and looked at Matt as if evaluating his friend, almost as much as he was the plan. "You know what country boy? I think you might be on to something. We've got some research to do."

-

In the classroom, Sally closed the book and smiled at Gabby. "Did you like that one?"

"It was great," she said. "You're a good reader."

Sally laughed, "Thanks honey. That's very sweet of you to say. I love reading, especially to someone who loves to listen. If you keep practicing, you'll be a good reader like me one day too."

"Really?" she asked, amazed that her future might hold the ability to read as well as Sally. "That would be nice. I could read to you then."

"I'd love that. Hey I've got an idea. Let's go outside and do our number work in the sun today. It's lovely perfect out there."

"Okay," said Gabby, as they climbed out of their beanbags. They stepped from the classroom and could see the others standing by the main gate near the fence, deep in discussion.

"Are they really going to try to kill the feeders?" asked Gabby, serious now.

Sally looked down at Gabby. It seemed pointless to lie. "Yes sweetheart, I think so. Sometimes grown-ups have to fight for things that are important, even when they don't really want to."

"I know," Gabby replied. "I don't like the feeders. I wish they never happened. They hate us. People, I mean. They want all of us gone. They want the world to themselves."

Sally wasn't surprised by Gabby's response. They all understood now that Gabby seemed to have some kind of sixth sense that gave her an insight into the psyche of the feeders. She took the little girl's hand and looked down into her blue eyes. "Well, we don't want them to have the world, so that's why Matt and Dylan are going to try to kill the feeders at the caves. If that's where they are, of course."

"That _is_ where they are," said Gabby. "They like it there. It's dark and they feel safe. It's an awful place. I would never want to go there."

"You never will sweetheart. Only Matt and Dylan are going. They'll only be gone for a day, then they'll come back to us."

Gabby began to cry. Sally crouched down and looked into her perfect face. "Don't cry sweetheart. It's okay. The boys will be very careful and on the day they go they'll be back in time for dinner. You shouldn't worry."

Gabby's tear-filled eyes stared back at Sally. "How can't I worry when I know someone's not coming home?
Chapter 64

Tales of Marauders

It was almost dark when Matt, Dylan and Montana returned from the council depot. Bonnie, Gabby, and Sally were in the kitchen preparing dinner when they heard the truck chugging up the long gravel drive towards the farm.

"Do you think they found what they were looking for?" asked Sally, "The explosives, I mean."

"Probably," said Bonnie. "But whether they can find the information they need to make it all happen is another thing."

She pulled the hot pan of chicken and potatoes from the oven and set it down on the sink, and turned to Sally, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm hoping they can't make a bomb that works. I don't want them to go to the caves. It's crazy, and you heard what Gabby said; she thinks somebody won't be coming home. I'm really scared. We seem to be safe here, so why take unnecessary risks? We should just be thankful we have each other."

"I totally understand why you think that, but you know we can't live like that. Who knows how long us survivors will last if we just wait for the feeders to take over? We have to fight back; I don't think this is a case of co-existing peacefully with them either. They will wipe us out. Did you know that Neanderthal man was widespread on the earth up until only thirty thousand years ago? Thirty thousand years! That's just yesterday, really. Homo sapiens - that's us - out-competed them. We more or less made them extinct. No one knows how for sure, but these feeders could do the same to us. Now I don't know about you, but I like the idea of the human race surviving for a bit longer yet."

Bonnie had barely finished speaking when Dylan, Matt and Montana bustled into the kitchen.

"Something smells good!" said Matt.

"I killed one of your chickens this morning," said Bonnie, "Do we have anything to celebrate?"

"Maybe. We found the stash of explosives with no problems, just as I left them, but finding the information took way longer. We finally found a filing cabinet in a little storeroom that had loads of brochures and folders and safety manuals. There were also some handwritten notes."

Matt looked at Bonnie and became more serious, "We actually think this might be doable; probably even simpler than we thought. All we need to do is connect a timer to a detonator, then to the explosives, and we're good to go. Bang!"

"Are you sure you can do it safely?" asked Sally.

Dylan turned from the refrigerator; where he'd grabbed beers for himself, Matt and Montana and said without a shadow of doubt, "Don't worry about it. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel. Let's eat. I'm starving."

-

"This chicken is absolutely awesome Bonnie. God, you just can't beat a roast dinner on a cold night!"

"Thanks buddy, I'm glad you're enjoying it, but don't expect it every night. I'm no housewife, and in case you hadn't noticed, I don't want to become one, so don't get used to it. What did you find out in town today?"

"Matt, tell them about that guy you spoke to."

Matt swallowed a mouthful of potato and answered, "Yeah, I ran into this guy in town who says there seem to be more travellers passing through, and I think he's right. It's not a flood of people yet, but we see someone every time we go in to town, now. This bloke reckons there's a real exodus away from the city. The only people staying back there are the real hard-core survivalists who want to wipe out the feeders, or the ones who are too scared to travel - and the marauders, of course. They're loving it, and thriving on the chaos. Everyone else seems to be following their urge to head west."

"Well that just confirms what we already knew doesn't it?" asked Sally.

"Yes, except for one new development. If it's true, that is," added Matt.

"What that?"

Dylan and Montana watched Bonnie and Sally, curious to see their reaction to Matt's news. "Well, this guy I was talking to says that Carswell is getting real dangerous."

"From the feeders? We already know that."

Matt paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "No not from the feeders; from marauders. It seems as if Carswell has become a bit of a Mecca for crazies. This guy said it's getting real freaky over there. Travellers have gone missing on the way through town and women have been tortured and raped. He thinks that certain types of people have been drawn there, just like other types have been compelled to head west."

The room was quiet as they digested this new information.

"That's scary," said Bonnie. "Marauders in the city are one thing, but having to deal with them out here is a problem we could do without. Do you think they'll stay in Carswell, or spread out further and end up here in Millfield?"

Matt shook his head. "That's impossible to answer I think, because things seem to be changing on a daily basis. I've got a real bad feeling that the survivors of the event are choosing teams; good versus evil, or something like that. I know how stupid that sounds, but everybody I've met heading west seems really normal and genuine, and now we've got this Carswell thing going on."

Matt's words trailed away as he waited for a response. Sally put a half-eaten chicken leg on her plate and asked an obvious question, "How do the feeders fit into all of this? I don't get it. It's one thing to share the world with a bunch of crazy zombies trying to eat us when it gets dark, but on top of that there's all this other stuff like Gabby's weird powers, no offense Gabby, people heading west for no apparent reason, marauders gathering together at Carswell, the migration. Are they all connected somehow, or is the division between good and evil, if that's what it is, just something that happens when society falls apart?"

"I'm not sure," answered Bonnie. "But it's obvious that we need to stick together, watch for changes in the feeders' behaviour and look after Gabby. And on that note," she said, turning to her daughter, "it's time for you to go to bed. Go and clean your teeth and put your pyjamas on, I'll tuck you in soon."

After Gabby had done a lap of the kitchen table to kiss everyone goodnight, conversation returned immediately to their situation in light of the new information at hand.

"I'll tell you one thing," said Dylan. "We can sit around here forever and make guesses about what's going on over at Carswell, but I think it would be more useful if we actually checked the place out for ourselves. You know how people can bullshit when they want to make their story more interesting. That guy Matt spoke to might have been exaggerating."

"What do you suggest we do?" asked Matt.

"Well", said Dylan, "I think we should pay Carswell a quick visit on the way to the caves. It's pretty much on the way, and if it looks really dangerous, we can take a detour on the way home and avoid it. What do you say Matt?"

"I had a bad feeling about that place the first time I set foot in it, so I'm not keen, but I think we need to, given what we've been told. Do you think we'll get through okay?"

"Well, they're not killing everyone that passes through town, so I think we'll be safe if we're cautious. When should we leave?"

"I can't see any point putting it off," said Matt, "but we probably need to spend a whole day wiring up our explosives tomorrow. What do you say to the day after that?"

"I say it sounds like a plan."

"Hey guys, I have a question," said Montana, as she pushed her empty plate away.

"What's that?" asked Matt.

"What do you need me to bring?"

-

The following morning was a busy and stressful one for Matt, Dylan and Montana. They arrived at the Council Depot an hour after sunrise and began the painstaking, and very intimidating, task of piecing together multiple explosive devices only from information they had gleaned from workshop technical manuals and handwritten notes. They realised that it was probably a safe task if they took things slowly and triple checked every step, but they still had a knot in their stomachs for most of the day. For the first couple of hours, they simply gathered materials and read and reread as much information as they could. Then, when they could put it off no longer, they constructed their devices, leaving the detonators disconnected until later when they would be at the caves. Matt's background working with machines and mechanical systems on the farm gave him the confidence that he could piece together the explosive puzzle, but it was Montana, surprisingly, who showed an aptitude for the logic involved, and gave them confidence to push on with the project, despite their trepidation. Whenever Matt or Dylan hesitated, she simply urged them on with encouragement and sensible advice and finally they had enough explosives to do some very serious damage, although they really had no idea how big the ultimate blast would be.

More than once throughout the day Matt or Dylan thought how lucky they were to have Montana with them. Something about her calm approach rubbed off on them, helping to complete tasks without getting too frustrated. The night before, though, was a different story. Everybody had expressed apprehension about Montana joining the Delano Caves expedition, and there was a heated debate, which lasted for almost an hour. Finally, though, doubts had been overcome and they realised that having a native of Carswell who knew the layout of the town could be an advantage when they passed through, if things went wrong. Bonnie, in particular, was concerned that as an attractive, young female, Montana would be a potential target for rampant marauders in the town. In the end though, everyone had to agree that she was as capable of protecting herself as Matt and Dylan were, and so she became the third member of the cave team.

So, as the late afternoon sun dropped rapidly toward the horizon, Matt, Dylan and Montana locked the gates to the depot where the means to exterminate many thousands of feeders would wait in safety until the morning. Their mood was sombre and nobody spoke as they climbed into the ute and started the journey back to 'Two Hills'. Matt wasn't sure if their subdued mood was an indication of tiredness or because of Gabby's premonition that one of them wouldn't return from the caves, but he knew one thing for sure - the first blow in the war against the feeders would be struck tomorrow. He revved the engine and headed for home.
Chapter 65

To the Caves

Sally burrowed in closer to Dylan and put her arm around his waist. "I don't want you to go tomorrow," she whispered.

"I know," he said.

"Can't you let Matt and Montana handle it?"

"You know I can't," he replied. "It was my idea, remember?"

"Yes, but I'm so scared, especially after what Gabby said about someone not coming home."

"Hey, listen Gabby doesn't read the future. She just has really strong intuition or something. Just because she says something, it doesn't mean it will come true. Even Bonnie said that."

"But it's still dangerous, isn't it? The trip to the caves, I mean. Something bad could happen. The feeders aren't as docile when they're asleep like they used to be."

"Look, we may not even find them. That cave system is huge and we only have one day. It might be a wild goose chase."

Sally sat up in bed and stared at Dylan's face, which was glowing like a ghost in the moonlight.

"You don't really believe that do you?"

"No, not really. I think we're going to find them."

"Dylan, do you love me?"

"Hey babe, of course I do, but let's not talk about that now," he said. "It might bring us bad luck."

He reached up and cupped her naked breast. "I think you're as sexy as hell, come here."

Sally embraced him desperately, and they made love in the dark to the sound of dogs howling in the distance beyond the fence. After Dylan went to sleep, Sally lay awake for a long time listening to the house creak and wondering if tonight would be their last together, and if they would ever make love again. She also wondered what Matt was doing in the room opposite, and if he ever thought about her, as she drifted off to sleep.

-

The next day everyone except Gabby rose in the dark to prepare for the critical and dangerous day ahead. After a quick breakfast of oats and strong coffee, Matt, Dylan and Montana hugged Bonnie and Sally in the warmth of the farm kitchen, before heading out into the cold morning to begin their journey to the Delano Caves. It had been a clear, still night and the ground was covered in prickly, white frost that crunched under their feet. Matt couldn't help thinking that it sounded like the crunching of bones, and he thought back to the skeletons of the children he had seen in Millfield the day after the feeders had risen for the first time. Exterminating them as they lay in the caves today would be his way of doing something to avenge many cruel and pointless deaths. When he reached the car he paused for a moment and looked at his two friends, who were breathing out spectral plumes of warm air. "Let's do this," he said.

At the Council Depot they loaded the explosives into the back of the Landcruiser, as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, and light was leeching into the town, illuminating fresh evidence of feeder activity from the night just gone. Not far from the council gates, the mutilated corpse of a traveller was lying on the side of the road, reduced to a chaotic jumble of bones and gore. There was no way to tell if it had been a man or a woman, such was the state of the body; it was obvious, though, that this person had stopped for the night and assumed they would be safe, locked in their car on the road's verge. But the feeders had found a way to break through the front windscreen and drag the traveller from their sleeping bag, and out of the car. It would not have been a fair fight in any sense, and the creatures certainly wouldn't have bothered to kill the victim before devouring them on the spot. It was a horrific way to die, thought Matt, as he unlocked the gates of the depot. They would need to exercise extreme caution at the caves today.

-

When the trio arrived at the outskirts of Carswell, it was just after eight, and the sun had risen in the eastern sky. They had passed one car heading west ten minutes earlier, but apart from a cursory wave, no contact was made. It seemed like survivors were becoming more cautious with each passing day and strangers were being treated as potential threats as much as prospective comrades. Matt slowed the car down to walking speed, and Dylan and Montana cradled their guns in their laps, in case they encountered marauders. It was strange for Matt to be back in the town where he had first encountered Montana, and it was odd to think that the evil Brock was no longer a presence here, but there was still something about the vibe of this place that felt very wrong.

"What do you think?" he asked finally, breaking the tense silence.

"It's bloody quiet," offered Dylan. "Maybe the marauders are still sleeping."

"That would be okay with me," said Montana. "This place is creepy. Let's just get out of here."

"Hey Montana," asked Dylan. "If you had to hole up with a big group of people in this town; somewhere that was safe from feeders, where would you go?"

"Gee, I'm not sure. Let me think."

Matt and Dylan peered left and right as the car cruised through the silent streets, and as they waited for Montana's answer, it seemed that Carswell had become a virtual ghost town. There was no evidence of activity, other than one very skittish, scrawny dog, and the sound of their own car as it rolled through the streets. Suddenly Montana sparked to life. "Hey! I think I know where I'd go!"

Matt eased his foot onto the brake and stopped the car. "Where?"

Montana leaned over the seat between the boys. "The high school! A few years ago they put up a big security fence to keep vandals out. And there's plenty of space. It would be perfect. There's no way the feeders could get in."

"Okay then," said Dylan, "let's check it out."

"We'll almost drive right past it on the way out of town anyway," said Montana.

"Cool," agreed Matt. "It can't hurt to take a peek. Let's go."

They parked the car in an unlocked garage, two blocks from the school, and started walking. They all agreed that driving right up to the school, when they didn't know what they would find, would be unnecessarily foolish. Montana had suggested that they approach the school from behind, where there was some vacant land that would provide them with cover from observant marauders.

"Some of my favourite math lessons were spent in that vacant lot," she explained with a nervous laugh. "It will also give us a good view of the sunniest part of the playground. If anyone's staying at the school, and they're awake, that's where they'll be."

As they crept through the lot and climbed to the top of the small incline, the school gradually appeared before them through the scrabbly trees. The building had been constructed around the beginning of the twentieth century and was designed to appear grand and important. Now, though, with the early morning sun glinting off the windows, it merely looked blank and utilitarian, like a psychiatric institution. It was obvious that the place was the base for a large group of marauders. The school's large concrete quadrangle, which was once used as a place for children to congregate with their peers, now looked like a parking lot. Around thirty cars (mostly large SUVs), and almost as many motorcycles were parked inside the fence, and behind them, closer to the main building was a group of around a dozen people sitting in the sun, smoking, laughing and eating.

"How do we know they're marauders?" whispered Matt.

Dylan and Montana simply looked at him and simultaneously raised their eyebrows in disbelief. "See that corpse strung up on the fence?" asked Dylan.

"Oh. Okay. They're marauders," Matt agreed sheepishly.

"I want to take a closer look," said Dylan.

"Why?" challenged Matt, "Let's just leave them alone. There could be hundreds of them in there. Besides, we need to get to the caves. You know we have to get back to the farm before it gets dark tonight."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," said Dylan, as they all turned to leave. "I just feel like I have some unfinished business with them after I saw what their kind were doing to decent people in the city."

He thought back to the young, naked girl he'd seen chained up by the group of marauders in the city and shuddered, "It's not just the feeders we need to worry about any more is it?"

Then suddenly, as if to prove his point, the foliage of the trees above their heads exploded in a shower of green, accompanied by the crack of a gunshot from the direction of the school.

"Run!" cried Matt, as they hared down the hill, ducking tree branches and stumbling over the uneven ground, before emerging back out onto the street. They checked for danger as they entered the street, then put their heads down and raced to their car as quickly as they could. Despite their terror, there were no more shots fired at them, and when they reached the garage that housed their car, they wasted no time in jumping in and speeding out of town, giving the high school the widest possible berth they could manage.

As Matt sped out of Carswell towards the east, Dylan and Montana looked nervously through Landcruiser's rear window with their weapons loaded and ready to fire, but their fear was unwarranted. Nobody was behind them.

"What the fuck?" Matt swore.

"Why aren't they chasing us? Why did they stop shooting?" queried Montana, as the sound of the car's engine roared in her ears, and her heart beat at a hundred miles an hour.

"I don't think they care enough about us," answered Dylan, "That was just a bit of target practice for an early riser. If that bullet had hit one of us, I bet they wouldn't have even left the compound to check it out. We would have just laid there until the feeders got us later tonight."

"Shit!" said Matt. "I hope the girls are okay back at the farm without us. We need to destroy this cave and get back as soon as we can. Everything's escalating, and I feel like we're going in the wrong direction. East feels bad. Do you sense that too, or am I just being paranoid?"

"No, you're not being paranoid. I feel it," confided Montana, leaning across the back of the seat. "I think we're heading into trouble. Every part of me wants you to turn the car around and head home. I've never had such a bad feeling about something in my whole life."

She sounded terrified, but there was nothing that Matt or Dylan could say to make her feel better, because they were experiencing the same ominous doubts as her. Dylna turned around in the passenger seat and placed his hand over Montana's.

"I think we all feel the same. I don't know why, but west is best, isn't it? Once we've wiped out this nest of feeders, I say we go home and make plans for the future for all of us. Then we should think about going somewhere even safer than 'Two Hills'. Matt, what do you say? Do you feel the same?"

Matt kept his eye on the road ahead and answered, "No, not really. I don't care what happens, I'll be staying at the farm. It's where I belong. If you guys want to leave I won't stop you, but I plan on dying at that place."

-

On the front veranda of the farmhouse, Gabby was playing with some of Matt's old toys in the sunshine while Bonnie and Sally dug weeds from the vegetable garden. It was almost ten o'clock and the air was warming considerably as the sun rose steadily in the sky. Sally had removed her sweater and a few beads of sweat had formed on her brow from the exertion of digging.

"This would be almost pleasant if we didn't have to worry about the others," she said, forcing a smile.

"I know what you mean. I'm really having second thoughts about them going. It all seemed so abstract and theoretical the other night, but now they've actually gone I'm worried sick."

"Do you think Gabby was right about someone not coming home?"

"You're worried about Dylan, aren't you?"

"Yes. And Matt," Sally replied quietly.

Bonnie put down her spade and looked at the younger woman. "Sally, are you blushing? Oh my god, have you got feelings for Matt?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Matt seems so sweet and caring, different to Dylan somehow. I know Dylan's been good to me, but there's a bitterness there, just under the surface, that scares me a little. I know it's not fair, but every now and then I find myself thinking about Matt for no reason. I think I might be falling in love with him." She looked into Bonnie's eyes. "Am I an awful person?"

Bonnie smiled, "No, of course not. Matt is a gentle, handsome man, but strong too. I understand why you're attracted to him. But you have Montana to think about. You'll have to keep your feelings to yourself. We can't afford to have any tension in our little group, can we?"

"No I guess not, and I do like Dylan a lot, but really, I don't think he loves me. I guess in this world you can't be too fussy though, right? I should be happy."

"Honey, my advice for you right now is to take everything one day at a time. Don't get too hung up relationships just yet. Survival is still our main priority, and will be for a long time yet. If you ever need to talk, though, I'm here for you babe, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks Bonnie. I'm so glad we came to Millfield with you."

Bonnie took Sally in her arms and hugged her tightly. "I'm glad you did too sweetheart. We're family now, and that might just be what gets us through all this."

As Sally listened to Bonnie's wise words, however, all she could think about was Matt, and whether he would return to 'Two Hills'. She buried her face further into Bonnie's neck and cried.
Chapter 66

The Hibernation

At about the same time Sally was realising she might be in love with Matt, he was a hundred and fifty kilometres away, coasting into the car park that serviced the Delano Cave system. He stopped the engine and opened his door. Outside, the world was as silent as a graveyard. Dylan and Montana climbed out of the car and they stood with Matt staring at the huge chalet-style guesthouse that loomed over them like a ghost ship.

"That's pretty random," noted Montana drily.

"This place was huge in the 1920s," said Matt. "Rich city types used to come up here from the city to be seen at ritzy ballroom dances, apparently. It's all been a bit downhill since then, I guess."

While the caves had been sacred to Aboriginal people for thousands of years, early European explorers had only discovered them around a hundred and fifty years ago. The caves' remote location in a deep, hidden valley had kept visitors away for many decades, but once a road was forged through the wilderness around a hundred years ago, the place became a mecca for visitors, eager to experience the grandeur of the ancient system, and to be seen themselves, at a very fashionable holiday spot. Delano Caves House maintained its' reputation for a couple of decades, but once airplane travel became more affordable, long trips into the country became less popular and visitor numbers dwindled until the caves became little more than a curious side trip for elderly holiday makers heading west.

"Well, what's the plan boys?" asked Montana.

"Matt seems to know a bit more about the caves than I do, which is absolutely nothing, so I say we do whatever he suggests."

"Oh, thanks a lot," said Matt. "I thought this was your expedition".

"Don't stress okay? Just tell us anything you can about this place, then we'll decide what to do."

Matt looked at Dylan and then Montana, who were obviously waiting for him to provide some kind of inspiration. He ignored them and looked around, hoping to see something that would give him an inkling of where to begin this crazy quest. Then, closer to the guesthouse he saw something he thought might help.

"Follow me," he said, walking away from his friends towards the once grand building.

When Matt stopped, Dylan and Montana saw immediately what had attracted his attention. A large hand-painted timber sign showed a map of all the caves within walking distance. And just in case tourists required more information, a little Perspex box with a flip-top lid, held a stack of brochures, which would probably provide details about the caves' histories, sizes and accessibility. After more than two months, the brochures were looking worse for wear and it was clear that a number of bugs had lived and died in that box, but Matt flipped the lid and pulled out the wad of leaflets. They had congealed together into one solid mass, but Matt split them in two with a crack and found that the ones in the middle of the pile were preserved well enough to read. He gave one each to Dylan and Montana and they unfolded them with reverence, understanding that the knowledge found inside these flimsy relics of the past might just be enough to give them a vital edge in their confrontation with the feeder colony.

By combining the information found in the brochure with the picture of the map on the board, they were able to piece together a plan that they thought might be effective. There were six different cave entrances within half a kilometre, and the map showed that all of the caves were connected to each other deep within the hillside. By locating the bombs at strategic points, there was a reasonable chance they would be able to bring down enough rubble to block the feeders' exit points, thereby ensuring their demise even if they weren't killed in the initial blasts. This plan was appealing, too, because it meant that they wouldn't need to venture all the way into the heart of the feeder colony. In effect, they would be burying the feeders alive.

"Let's get the gear and get started," urged Dylan, "Daylight is precious."

Twenty minutes later they were at the entrance to the cave that was furthest from the guesthouse. They had wired up the ten bombs and left nine of them in the car, which was parked nearby. They would collect the other devices only as they were needed. They had decided that it made the most sense to set up single explosives in the five smaller caverns, and then wire up multiple devices in the last, and largest cave, where they assumed most of the feeders would be hibernating. They would need to set the timers at staggered intervals, to allow for the time it took to get from one cave to the next, but because the devices were all rigged independently, there was no way to make them detonate simultaneously. All they could do was make calculations based on the rough distances they would be travelling, and allow plenty of time to leave the area before the first blast erupted. So, as long as the bombs detonated before it got dark, while the feeders were still in the caves, the plan had every chance of working.

"Okay everyone," said Dylan. "Are we ready?"

"As ready as anyone can be for something like this, I guess," said Matt.

"By the way," Montana quipped. "Is it just me or does anyone else think we look like Ghostbusters?"

They looked at each other and laughed. They all wore orange overalls, hard miners' helmets, boots and a backpack containing water, extra flashlights, glow sticks and some snack bars. Around their waists, each had a belt with a holster containing a handgun and a long loop of rope. Matt carried a second backpack on his front, which contained enough explosives to kill them all instantly, if things went wrong.

"I ain't afraid of no ghost," he said. "Let's kick some feeder ass!"

-

The entrance to the cave was slightly larger than a regular door and had obviously been carved out of the limestone years ago to allow easy access to the wonders inside. A large metal gate had been added at some point to keep non-paying intruders out, but recently the gate had been ripped off its' hinges and lay on the ground, where it was being slowly overrun by weeds. Matt kicked the gate with his boot. "Do you think the feeders did that?"

"I'd say so," answered Dylan, "why would anybody want to break into the caves after the event?"

"Exactly. Here we go then. Turn your lights on and follow me."

There was a moment of trepidation when Matt stepped over the threshold and into the cool of the cave, but he knew that events had been set in motion that could not be undone. Returning to the farm without attempting to fulfill their objective would be a personal failure that none of them would be able to live with, so he pushed forward, with Montana and Dylan following closely behind.

Despite the bright sunlight outdoors, they had only walked about twenty paces before they were in almost complete darkness. The man-made passageway punched into the hillside for about thirty metres before it reached the cave system itself. When they reached the end of the tunnel, Matt turned around to see how the others were doing, and was surprised at how far away the entrance looked now. So great was the contrast between the outside and the gloomy, damp interior of the cave, it was as if the small rectangle of light behind them belonged to another world, a world that already seemed intangible and remote.

"This is the main chamber I think," whispered Dylan, as the trio moved from the tunnel and into the larger area.

Despite being one of the minor caves, however, it was still an impressive sight. Water dripping through limestone over many years had built up hundreds of structures that resembled shiny termite colonies. The silence was almost complete, broken only by the sound of water trickling from the ceiling onto the stalagmites, continuing to build them up, one tiny particle at a time. As the three adventurers swung their beams around, however, it was becoming clear that there were no feeders in this chamber.

"Where are they?" asked Montana.

"I don't know," said Matt. "This looks like it would be perfect for them."

"We need to go a little deeper," suggested Dylan. "Come on".

Matt and Montana fell in behind Dylan as he headed to the farthest point of the chamber. The walking was easy because paths had been carved out of the uneven ground to make it easy for tour groups to wander through with a guide. There was also a rusty chain-link handrail to hold for extra safety. When Dylan had almost reached the far side of the chamber he held up his hand and motioned for the others to stop.

"Can you smell that?" he asked.

"Oh god, that's bad!" exclaimed Montana. "Where's it coming from?"

Dylan pointed to a passage off to his right. "There's a breeze blowing the stink from up there somewhere. Let's take a look."

"I think I'll puke if that gets any worse," said Matt, as the crept quietly up the narrow passage.

Despite their three headlamps illuminating the way forward, this passage was darker than the one they had entered through. It was more confined too, and in some places they needed to bend down low to keep moving forward. The smell was much stronger here too, and they knew instinctively they were getting closer to a nest of feeders. Then, in one of the narrowest parts of the tunnel, Dylan stopped, causing Matt and Montana to bump into him from behind.

"What is it?" asked Matt, as he tried to peer past Dylan unsuccessfully.

"Wait until you see this," he said. "It's fucking unbelievable."
Chapter 67

The Pilgrims

"Can we see the girl?"

Bonnie stared at the man and woman through the gate, with her gun dangling by her side. "No, you can't see the girl. Nobody gets to see the girl. Like I told the others this morning, you need to move along. Keep heading west or wherever, but you can't stay here."

"We're not going west. We just want to see her."

"Where are you going if you're not heading west?"

"Going? We're not going anywhere. We came here to see the girl."

"Well that's just not going to happen folks, so I suggest you head back into Millfield and decide where it is you're going, because when the sun goes down and the feeders come out, you'll be dead meat if you haven't holed up somewhere safe for the night."

The man, who looked to be around forty with a bushy grey beard and beady brown eyes, looked at the woman beside him and smiled, before returning his attention to Bonnie, "Well, actually, there is one safe place isn't there?"

Bonnie was losing patience with the couple now, and the shit-eating grin on their faces wasn't helping matters. "What are you talking about?"

The smile dropped from the man's face and he snarled at Bonnie, "This is a safe place isn't it? Huh? I don't see any dead bodies around here. Word is the girl's like some good-luck charm! We've all met people who've had the dreams. Those fucking creatures won't go near her will they?"

Suddenly, Bonnie felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. How could people know about Gabby's gift? "You need to go", she stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about, but if you don't leave soon there'll be trouble."

She wheeled around and headed back towards the farmhouse, where Sally and Gabby were waiting, knowing that her words were only empty threats unless Matt, Dylan and Montana returned from the caves soon. From behind her the man yelled, "You can't keep us all away, you know! The girl belongs to everyone, not just you! We won't be the last!"

Bonnie opened the front door and lurched inside, glad to be away from the hostile desperation of the man at the gate. Sally was waiting for her, and when the front door was closed and locked they went to the lounge room and peered through the window. "They're still there," Bonnie said.

"What do they want?" asked Sally.

Bonnie stepped away from the window and slumped down into the nearest armchair. "They want my daughter."

-

Dylan, Matt and Montana were standing behind a stainless-steel guardrail, on a small ledge looking down into a large cavern filled with sleeping feeders. The creatures were almost all completely naked now, their clothes having rotted and fallen off over the last few months.

"It's unbelievable," murmured Matt, almost to himself, as the others observed the bizarre sight before them in silence. "How many of them are there, do you think?"

Dylan shook his head, "It's hard to say, maybe eight hundred. Are they asleep?"

"No way," answered Montana, "Their hibernation is really different to the way we sleep. If they were sleeping like humans do, there would be some kind of movement. They look more like corpses."

The pale bodies of the feeders below them covered the uneven floor of the cave like a putrid carpet. There was no space between each figure, and Matt wondered if it was to help them maintain their body heat or if it was just an aspect of their flocking behaviour.

"We really should get the bomb set up and get out of here quickly," he said, unable to take his eyes from the hellish scene before him.

"Sure," agreed Montana. "The smell's about to make me puke anyway. Just one thing before we go, though."

"What's that?" asked Dylan.

"Do some of those feeders look pregnant to you?"

Matt and Dylan craned forward and directed their headlamp beams at a couple of the closest female creatures.

"Shit!" exclaimed Matt, "I think you're right. They definitely look like 'baby bumps' as my mum used to call them."

"God man, that is really creepy!" said Dylan. "Let's get this device set up and get to the next cave. I seriously need to get out of here."

Matt took off the backpack that was attached to his front, and placed it gently on the floor of the cave. Montana shone her flashlight onto the device as Matt pulled it carefully from the pack while Dylan kept his beam trained over the feeders in case they came out of their suspended sleep state. Once the timer and detonator were attached to the explosives, Matt set the timer for three hours, giving them plenty of time to place the additional bombs in the other five caves.

"Okay, that's done," said Matt, rubbing his hands together.

"You're not just going to leave it here are you?" asked Montana.

"Why not?" Matt asked.

"Wouldn't it be more effective down on the floor with them?"

Matt looked at Dylan and asked, "What do you think?"

"I think she's right. I'll take it down. I think I saw a ladder."

Matt carefully returned the device to the pack and placed it gingerly on Dylan's back.

"It's armed, so I wouldn't bump it if I were you," he said, giving Dylan a forced smile.

"Hey man, thanks for the heads up, I would never have thought of that."

"Please be careful," said Montana, as Dylan unlatched the gate that would give him access to the ladder.

"Sure. See you in a minute."

Matt and Montana leaned over the barrier and shone their lamp beams down to give Dylan as much light as possible. The metal ladder looked old but sturdy, and was attached to the rock wall with solid looking brackets; but there were still butterflies in their stomachs as they watched Dylan descend into the realm of the feeders. Down below, there was no sign of movement from the creatures, and even after Dylan had stepped from the last rung onto the floor beside the beasts, they appeared more like cadavers than living beings. Dylan looked up to his friends, which caused them to shield their eyes from his headlamp's glare, but they saw him give the thumbs-up sign before getting back to the job at hand.

Dylan reached around and took the pack from his back and placed in on the floor. He unzipped it and lifted the device out, but instead of placing it on the floor beside him, he put it back in the pack and stood up, looking around at the feeders that surrounded him like a fetid swamp.

"What's he looking for?" asked Montana.

"I don't know," answered Matt. He leaned over the rail and hissed at Dylan. "What's up?"

Dylan gazed up at Matt, wrinkled up his nose and fanned his face with his hand, as if to illustrate how bad the smell was.

"What's he playing at?" asked Montana, more anxious now.

"I have no idea, but he's pissing me off. We need to get moving."

Then, Matt and Montana understood exactly what Dylan was doing. They watched as he stepped over the closest feeder and began to carefully pick out a route to the centre of the cave, right into the midst of the sleeping swarm.

"God! He's going to put it right in the middle of them! Idiot!" said Montana, furious that she had to spend one second longer in this cave than she needed to.

Dylan pushed on, though, despite the concern of his friends on the ledge above. If he could plant the device at the centre of the nest, then destruction would be complete and he would wipe out almost a thousand feeders, beyond doubt, in a fraction of a second. When he had started to climb down, there had been no intention of doing anything other than placing the bomb at the foot of the ladder, but there was something about seeing the pregnant female feeders up close that had filled him with a hatred so all consuming that he started to wade into their midst before he realised what he was doing.

The task was difficult, though, because the creatures were packed close together and the rock floor under him was slick with water, urine and shit. Despite the awkwardness of the footing, however, he made it almost halfway to the centre of the nest and thought he would be able to make it if he was very careful. His mind harked back to his earlier experience with Sally in the underground car park, and he knew that if these creatures were disturbed, they had the capability of waking suddenly and defending themselves with extreme violence for short periods of time. He forced himself take it slow, even though he wanted to get out of that cave with every fibre of his being.

"He's almost there," said Montana, as she gripped Matt on the arm.

"Yeah, but he has to get out too, don't forget".

A couple of seconds later, the two watched as Dylan's light stopped bobbing around in the dark, signalling his arrival at the centre of the feeder horde. Dylan raised the backpack above his head in triumph, before placing it carefully in a tiny, available space between two oblivious feeders.

"Okay mate, now get out of there," Matt whispered to himself, nervously.

Dylan started to tiptoe back through the prostrate figures of the feeders, as Matt put his arm around Montana's waist and pulled her close. "It's okay. He's going to make it. We'll be out of here soon."

As the words were leaving Matt's mouth, though, Montana let out a strangled squeal as Dylan lost his balance and lurched forward, directly into the mass of sleeping creatures.
Chapter 68

The Feeders Awake

Sally and Bonnie were in the kitchen clearing up the lunch dishes, while Gabby watched 'The Lion King' in the lounge-room. It was almost one o'clock, and they knew that if everything had gone well at the caves, they could start listening for sound of Matt's truck coming up the drive soon. While they had no idea what ordeals their friends would be facing, or how long it would take to plant the devices, they knew that the trio would need to be back at the farm before dark, or risk facing the brutal and merciless feeders as they emerged from their nests to hunt.

"I can't stop thinking about them," said Sally.

"I know what you mean. I wish they never went."

Bonnie dried a plate and passed it to Sally to put into the cupboard.

"Hey, Sally, you never talk about your parents. Why is that?"

She paused briefly before answering, "I didn't know my father, and I wasn't very close to mum, but I do think about her sometimes. It's easier not to, though, because all I wonder about is where she was the day I woke up and found everyone missing."

"What do you mean?" asked Bonnie, putting her dishcloth down on the kitchen bench.

"Well, mum wasn't home when I got up that morning, and I just thought she was sleeping off a hangover or staying at a friend's house, like she sometimes did, but I'm not sure any more."

"What do you think now?" asked Bonnie.

"I think she was probably under the bed in her room the whole time becoming a feeder. I didn't even open her bedroom door, you know. I was only thinking about myself. I should have checked in her bedroom. I was selfish."

"No, you're wrong. You didn't know what was going on in the world, and if you had found her, that would have only made the whole experience worse. You may even have died trying to drag her from the building when the fire started."

"Maybe. But I can't get it out of my head that I didn't even try to look for her. What about your parents? Do you miss them?"

Bonnie smiled and leaned against the bench, "Sally, I miss everyone and every thing. My parents, my brother, my best friend, heavy metal, fast food, the nightly news, Facebook, all kinds of silly things; I even miss going to work. I was so excited about maybe getting that job and moving to Sydney, but you know what?"

Sally shook her head.

"Despite losing all of those things, I still feel incredibly lucky because I have Gabby. I might be the only living parent in the world whose child survived the event. I'm grateful for that each and every day, but I know that you guys have lost everything, so I don't like to talk about it, because it doesn't seem fair."

"I understand," said Sally as she put the last plate away. "Hey, let's cook something special for the returning heroes. Gabby can help."

-

As Dylan plunged into the mass of sleeping creatures, the only thought that went through his mind was that he had failed his friends. When he landed on top of the feeders, they would wake in a frenzy and defend themselves with a ferocity that would leave none of the group alive. He winced and threw out his arms to break his fall.

Up on the ledge, Montana's grip on Matt's arm tightened, as Dylan fell. Matt reached for the weapon in his holster, but he knew that once Dylan collapsed on top of the feeders, they would all effectively be dealt a death sentence. So when Dylan hit the ground and none of the creatures awoke, Matt didn't understand what was happening.

Dylan threw out his arms and instinctively flexed his muscles as he tried to find a way to avoid making contact with the feeder beneath him. His palms hit the slick rock floor either side of the creature's body simultaneously, and his left hand slipped slightly on impact. But his other hand hit the ground square, and stuck, and he somehow managed to stop his momentum, just inches from the comatose feeder beneath him. He had felt a crack in his right wrist, and the foul stench of the beast almost made him vomit, but he managed to keep his body rigid, avoiding any contact. To Matt and Montana up on the viewing platform, Dylan looked as if he was frozen in time, in the act of making love to one of the feeders, but when they realised that he had just saved not only his own life, but also theirs, they hugged each other silently in jubilation.

-

Outside the entrance to the cave, they held their faces towards the sunshine, savouring its warmth. Dylan's remarkable escape seemed like a dream now, but Matt was furious nonetheless. "That cannot happen again!" he said, glaring at Dylan. "From now, we go into the caves, place the devices somewhere safe, not too close to the feeders, and then get out! Got it?"

"Yeah, sorry man. I just thought it would give us more bang for our buck, that's all."

"Yeah well, it probably will, but I don't want to die because of your selfish heroics, okay? So let's just stick to the plan from now on!"

"Hey I said I was sorry, let's not get all fired up, we still have a lot of work to do."

"Okay then," said Matt, who was already storming off to the car to get the next device ready.

Setting up the bombs in the next four caves was easy compared to the first attempt. After Dylan's close encounter, they were satisfied to plant the bombs well away from the feeders and were out of the second to last cave with around three hours of daylight to spare, most of which would be needed to get home before the sun set. Each time they planted a bomb, they subtracted the time they had spent in the subsequent caves from the original three hours set on the first timer. This meant all of the bombs would explode at roughly the same time, giving the feeders little warning of what was to come.

They stood before the entrance to the sixth and final cave, and felt excited at the prospect of getting the job finished and returning to the safety of the farm. There was anxiety, too, because they knew from the maps that this was the largest of the caves, and probably housed more feeders than the others combined.

"Okay," said Matt, taking a deep breath, "This is it - the last one. Let's keep it simple, okay? We've already spent half of our three hours so far planting the bombs, so that means we need to set this timer to trigger in ninety minutes. That gives us about an hour to plant the device, so we'll have a good thirty minutes to get away from this place before all hell breaks loose. We should be home in time for dinner. Any questions?"

Dylan and Montana shook their heads.

"Okay then, let's finish the job."

The last cave was the most spectacular and geologically significant of all the Delano system. It had more stalagmites and stalactites, larger caverns, longer tunnels, and even an underground river and waterfall. In the old days, before the world changed, if you came to the caves as a tourist and only toured one cavern, this would be it. Matt, Dylan and Montana peered anxiously forward as they walked through the first narrow tunnel into the cave's damp, murky depths. Because this cave was larger, they dropped glow sticks every twenty metres or so, in case they needed to make a quick exit, and as Matt looked behind him at the green, phosphorescent tubes receding into the distance, he thought that they only seemed to accentuate the distance to the outside world.

"Where are they?" asked Montana, "We didn't need to go this deep in the other caves".

"This one is much bigger," replied Matt. "Let's give it a bit longer, but if we don't find the nest soon, I say we leave our bomb wherever it will do the most damage, and then get out of here, while we still have time."

"Sounds good to me," said Dylan, as Montana nodded in agreement.

A few minutes later, half way along a narrow tunnel, Dylan stopped and cocked his head. "Listen."

They paused, straining to identify the humming sound that was coming from up ahead, "What is that?" asked Montana.

"We'll know soon," said Dylan, "Let's push on".

They moved forward through the cramped, limestone shaft, until the sound became almost deafening.

"Nearly there", said Dylan, changing direction, as the passage veered suddenly to the right.

They negotiated the narrow bend, with their heads ducked to avoid the ceiling, as the source of the sound become obvious. They stepped into a massive cavern, where a spectacular waterfall tumbled from a large fissure in the rock face almost one hundred metres above them.

"Wow!" said Montana, "That's seriously impressive. But where are the feeders?"

"Not in here," commented Dylan.

"Shit! What's going on? This should be the perfect place for them, shouldn't it?" asked Matt.

"I would have thought so. How much time have we wasted in here now?" asked Dylan.

Matt looked at his watch, "Almost half an hour already. If we go any deeper, we won't be leaving ourselves much time to get out before our bombs go off."

"That's if everything goes according to plan," observed Montana.

"Okay, listen," said Matt, "We have to make a call on this, one way or the other. Let's vote. Spend five more minutes going further into this cave, or get out now. What do we say?"

"I say five more minutes," answered Dylan, "We'll never be here again."

Montana looked around the huge empty space before them, then back towards the tunnel that would lead them outside to daylight and safety.

"Shit! This is ridiculous!" she spat. "Alright, five more minutes, but not a second longer, I'm starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this."
Chapter 69

The Explosion

Bonnie gazed through the curtains at the couple she'd argued with just an hour earlier. Now a third man, was pointing at the house, and was gesturing back in the direction of Millfield. She couldn't make out what was being said, but there was something about their expressions and the way they were waving their arms about that seemed openly hostile and threatening. Bonnie wished that Matt and the others would hurry up and come home, because she was starting to feel like she was living in a goldfish bowl. It had been a slight inconvenience when strangers began arriving at the farm to see Gabby for themselves, but this new development was much more disturbing. The electrified fence that Matt had constructed was providing them with a basic level of security, but Bonnie knew that a determined and desperate group of people would be able to break down their defenses simply by driving a car through. She looked at her watch and prayed that the others would be back soon.

-

"That's it!" barked Montana, "Our five minutes are well and truly up! Let's get out of here!"

They were standing at the furthest point from where they entered the cavern and they had still hadn't seen any evidence of feeders. They could see two narrow passages that went further into the hillside, but they all agreed that there was no time to explore any further.

"Okay," said Matt, " Let's go. We'll just plant the last bomb at the entrance on the way out."

They started to retrace their steps to the small tunnel, where a glow stick, wedged into a crevice, signalled their entry point into the cavern. But as they passed the waterfall that cascaded noisily from a stream high above them, Matt had a niggling feeling that there was something in this cave that they had missed. He peered around, trying to spot some significant detail amongst the darkness that might help them to strike a crucial blow against the feeders, but there was nothing. Damn! What was it? Then, as he felt the ghost of an idea beginning to manifest itself somewhere deep in his subconscious, a thunderous boom reverberated through the caves, shaking the foundations of their world.

They screamed and grabbed for each other desperately, and tumbled onto the hard ground as chunks of rock rained down from the ceiling. They covered their heads and closed their eyes, laying huddled together like frightened animals until the vibrations subsided, and eventually stopped.

"Fuck! What the hell just happened?" asked Dylan. "Did one of our bombs just go off?"

Matt didn't answer and Montana was crying, which made Dylan think they were probably both in shock, but he stood up, and dragged them from the floor one at a time, their ears still ringing from the explosion.

"Okay, that was fucking close, but we're fine I think. Is anyone hurt?"

Matt and Montana stared blankly at Dylan and shook their heads, still unable to speak. They didn't look injured, but he knew that even if they were, they couldn't afford to stay in the cave. The blast would have awakened the feeders and they would be looking to defend themselves from this new threat. He grabbed his friends roughly by the arms and barked instructions.

"Listen! We need to get out of here! Now! Follow me! Don't look back, and don't stop!"

With that, Dylan started running towards the exit of the cave, turning around now and then to check on the progress of Matt and Montana. They were struggling, he thought, but he knew that their spirit for survival was strong, and they were managing to keep up with him, despite the rubble that littered the ground. They reached the end of the cavern and Dylan located the glow stick that signalled their exit point (now lying on the ground), and they plunged headlong into the tighter space like rabbits into a burrow. As they half-ran, half-crouched, through the dark, rock-strewn passageway, Dylan expected they might find their escape route blocked by fallen rocks, but as they negotiated a slight bend in the tunnel, the rectangle of light up ahead signalled the exit and became a beacon for them. They ran towards it, realising that they had only just been spared from being buried alive. They lurched into the daylight and shielded their eyes from the sun.

"Shit!" said Matt as they stood outside the cave's entrance, sucking in huge breaths. "I really lost it in there."

"Don't worry about it," said Dylan. "But we can't afford to hang around, the feeders are going to be pissed! We need to get to the car and get out of here." He looked at Montana, who was being consoled by Matt. "Are you okay?"

She nodded her head, "Yeah, I think so. I'm glad to be out of those caves. Can we go home please?" she asked as tears welled up in her eyes again.

"Sure. Let's get to the car. I'll drive."

Matt wiggled his fingers in his ears to try to relieve the ringing sensation as they lurched to the car.

"Lucky limestone's stable," he said, "If that was a coalmine, we'd all be dead. I can't understand why there were no feeders in that one cave, though. It's weird."

"Well," answered Dylan. "It doesn't matter now does it? We just need to..."

He looked down the road that led away from the caves.

"What's up?" Matt asked, as Dylan held up one finger.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, nervously.

Before they could answer, however, Dylan screamed, "Run!" and wheeled around, pushing his friends back in the direction of the cave they had just left.

Matt couldn't move. He stared down the road in shock, as a large group of feeders, maybe twenty in number, raced towards them down the middle of the road, the wrath of the damned in their eyes. Matt looked up. The sun was till in the sky! This group of feeders was out of hibernation and functioning in daylight! From somewhere far away, he heard his name being called.

"Matt! Matt! Move it!"

Dylan and Montana were standing by the entrance of the cave from which they had just escaped. Montana was clutching Dylan's arm as he yelled, "Come on man! Move your ass!"

Matt took one look back at the feeders, who were halfway to him now, and regained enough composure to realise that there was only one option available. He turned and ran to his friends as quickly as his legs would take him, stumbling into their arms as Dylan yelled, "What now?"

"Follow me!" ordered Matt frantically; as he headed back towards the dark maw of the cave they had emerged from just minutes earlier. Montana looked at Dylan in panic, but when he simply shrugged his shoulders, she realised that they had no choice but to follow Matt into the mountain once more, despite the likelihood that it would become their tomb.

Matt raced back towards the largest cavern, as the feeders got closer, and any mistake he made would probably prove to be a fatal one for the whole group. If he tripped, Dylan and Montana would collapse on top of him and the beasts would rip them apart. He was operating purely on instinct now, and his actions in the next few seconds would either save their lives or condemn them to death, depending on the strength of his convictions and a whole lot of luck. He heard Montana squeal behind him and he realised that the feeders were closer than ever, and that they were only seconds away from catching her. With one final surge of adrenalin, and hoping desperately that his friends were still with him, he burst out of the narrow passageway and into the cathedral like space of the main cavern. From the grunting of the feeders, Matt could tell that they were only a few metres behind Montana now. He had reached the point of no return. He raced across the floor of the cavern towards the far wall, but just when it seemed as if he was heading for the two tunnels they had seen earlier, he veered sharply to the right and leapt directly into the middle of the small lake that was fed by the waterfall above.

The cold water was like electricity as it engulfed Matt and sucked his breath away. He went under, and sensed bodies hitting the water above him, and all he could do was hope that Montana and Dylan had followed him in. The shock of being submerged in almost freezing water, combined with the exertion of his recent sprint from the feeders, was causing him to panic, and he needed to get to the surface to take a breath, even though the feeders might be waiting for him. Then his feet hit bottom, and he pushed up as hard as he could, breaking through the surface of the pool with a frenetic splash. He swung around, blind from terror, as a body lunged from the depths beside him. He flailed his arms at it, but before he had even landed a blow, he realised it was Dylan emerging from the water alongside him. Montana's head appeared next, almost simultaneously, and as they wiped the water from their eyes, they waded back from the edge of the lake, towards the waterfall, as they scanned the cave for the feeders.

"Shit! Look at that!" exclaimed Montana, who was already shivering as she pointed to the entrance tunnel. "Those things won't come near the water!"

The feeders had entered the cave close behind the trio, but as Matt led his friends into the safety of the large pool, the creatures had baulked at the edge, eventually retreating to the back wall of the cavern, where they now crouched, just visible in the weak light of a glow stick, watching the humans, with hatred and frustration in their eyes.

"Fuck me Matt! What made you think of that?" quizzed Dylan, "Absolute genius, man! I would have just run up those tunnels we saw before. They would have caught us and killed us for sure!"

"I don't know why I didn't think of this when we were in here before", he said, as he put his arm around Montana. "All this water and no feeders. They hate it! As long as we stay here we're safe!"

"I hate to burst your bubble," interjected Montana, "But if those feeders don't go away soon, we're screwed anyway because we'll die of hypothermia. I'm freezing already."

"Shit!" said Dylan, "You're right! We have to get out of this water or we're screwed. Any ideas?"

The group of feeders sat quietly together, on their haunches, balancing with their knuckles, and seemed quite content to sit and wait for them to come out of the water. Their hateful gaze was directed straight at the trio and Matt had the feeling that if it came down to a contest between freezing to death and trying their luck against the feeders, they would have no choice but to fight. He shivered violently as the waterfall splashed down around them from the rocks above.

-

As the sun fell behind the hills, Gabby came and stood beside Sally at the front window. Sally had been watching and listening for any sign of the Landcruiser, and with each minute that passed, she was becoming more pessimistic about the safe return of her friends.

"Hi honey. What's up?"

"They're not coming home tonight, are they?" Gabby asked, sadly.

"I don't think so sweetie."

"Are they dead?"

Sally was shocked, "Gabby, no! Of course not."

She knelt down and hugged the girl to her chest, and looked into her eyes as she held her tiny hands. "Listen, Matt and Dylan and Montana are very clever and very tough. I won't lie to you, though, because I am worried about them, but maybe they just needed to stop somewhere on the way home because it was getting too dark. It could even be something simple like the car breaking down. Try not to worry okay?"

"Okay, I'll try not to, but I don't think I can."

They hugged again, and shared a tear, and when Sally stood up, Gabby asked, "Are those people still out there?"

Sally knew they were still there, but checked again anyway. There were five of them now. A young woman and a boy, who looked to be around twelve, had joined the other three. The temperature outside was dropping rapidly as darkness descended, and Sally could see that they were rugged up in warm coats and blankets. They'd also found an oil drum somewhere, and a fire was raging inside it to keep the cold at bay.

"Yes sweetheart, they're still there".

"How many?"

"Five now."

"Do they want me?"

Sally had always tried to be honest with Gabby, but now, out of love, she lied, "No darling, they don't want you. How about we go find mum and get dinner started".
Chapter 70

Into the Daylight

Matt, Montana and Dylan stood in the frigid water and studied the creatures. "Ugly fuckers, aren't they?" stated Dylan.

The group of feeders hadn't moved from their position since they had jumped into the water almost an hour ago. Their patience was as surprising as it was terrifying.

"I thought they would have been bored with us by now and gone back to their nests to sleep."

"I wonder how long they'll stay there?" asked Matt.

"Longer than us, that's for sure," said Montana. "I can't stay in this freezing water forever. If we don't get out at some point, we'll eventually just die from the cold. Isn't there a way we can get rid of them?"

"You know what I've been wondering?" asked Matt, shivering.

"What?"

"Why are there only a dozen of them? We've seen thousands of them in the caves today, but only a few dozen appeared after the explosion? Why?"

"I have a theory," replied Dylan.

"Let's hear it," urged Matt.

"Okay. You remember how Sally said that the feeders seemed to be developing a social structure, even after only the second night? The prominence of the alpha male and all that?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well what if it's more advanced now?"

"What do you mean?" asked Montana.

"Well, when the bomb went off, maybe the creatures that survived, all the ones in the other caves, sensed danger and didn't want to put themselves at risk. Maybe they just sent out a warrior team."

Matt shivered and looked at Dylan. "Really? You think they have roles now? Maybe they have doctors too, and teachers?"

"No need to be a smartass Matt. Think about how much these things have changed since they turned. It's all about survival for them, just like it is for us. They'll find ways to increase their odds, and maybe one way is by practicing damage limitation. Somehow they have a whole new set of instincts, just like they seem to have a whole new biology."

Montana spoke.

"Listen Matt, that makes as much sense as anything. All of those freaks watching us look like males to me. Maybe Dylan's right, so let's go with that theory for now. One other thing we need to think about, though. What happens when all of the bombs detonate in an hour or so? This whole cave system could collapse, couldn't it?"

"It's a possibility. We really need to get out of here soon. The caves might not hold up as well as they did the first time."

"Okay guys," said Dylan, "It's time to make a move. Does everyone still have their handguns?"

"God I forgot about them!" exclaimed Matt, as he and Montana groped around under the water for their pistols. "Still got mine!"

"Me too!" said Montana, holding her weapon above the water.

Dylan showed them his pistol and shook the water out of the barrel.

"I don't know if these will work if they're wet, but we have to hope we can either shoot those things or at least scare them off so we can make it to the car. Matt, you know guns, will these things still work?"

"Maybe. These are modern weapons, and I think that if the barrel is clear, they'll fire even if they're wet. Older weapons probably wouldn't, but technology has improved a lot recently. I have to admit I've never tried it though. Why didn't you think of this before?"

"I just kept hoping the feeders would leave us alone when they got bored. There's also a risk that gunfire will attract more of the creatures, so I kept my idea to myself. I don't think we can wait any longer now, though. We're getting too cold, the bombs will detonate soon, and we're losing daylight. What do you think? Will we go for it?"

Montana answered through slightly blue, quivering lips, "Let's shoot those freaks and run for it! I cannot stay in this water another minute! Matt?"

"Let's give it a go. What's the plan?"

"Okay, let's nominate our first few targets so we're not all aiming at the same creature. Once we start shooting, who knows what they'll do? They may run away or they may overcome their fear of water and attack us. We have to be ready for anything. Check that your gun is as dry as possible and the safety is off."

Dylan looked at his friends as his whole body shook with the cold. "If we don't get out of this one, it's been a real pleasure knowing you both. Good luck".

"We'll be fine," said Matt. "Let's be positive."

Montana looked at the boys, but from either the cold or the fear, was unable to speak. She lifted her weapon and aimed it at the nearest feeder. Matt and Dylan chose their targets and levelled their weapons, ready to fire. The feeders maintained their unnerving vigil, their eyes almost glowing in the semi-darkness. If they got an opportunity the beasts would brutally kill and eat the three survivors with ruthless efficiency so there would be no turning back from this strategy. Failure to defeat this band of feeder warriors and get to the car would result in death. Of that they were certain.

"Okay guys," Dylan ordered. "When I get to three, start shooting."

The feeders didn't take their eyes from the trio, and, despite the fact they had retained some faint traces of memories from their previous lives as humans, the guns elicited no recognition in their pallid, malevolent faces.

"One," said Dylan, nodding towards his friends.

"Two."

His hand was shaking from the cold as it drew a bead on his first target.

"Three!" he yelled, pulling on the trigger.

The noise in the cave was deafening, as three pistols boomed out in unison and the heads of two feeders blew apart, showering the rock wall behind them in a viscous, purplish splash. The response from the feeders was as quick as lightning, as the trio continued to fire their weapons at the group. The creatures that hadn't been hit were now escaping like phantoms into the passageway that would lead them out of the cave and to safety. The plan had worked.

"Stop shooting!" yelled Matt, "Stop shooting!" he repeated, as the last of feeders disappeared into the gloom of the tunnel, leaving their brethren behind, dead or writhing in mortal anguish on the cave floor.

"Let's get moving!" screamed Dylan, already wading towards the edge of the pool. "Those things won't be scared off for long!"

He was the first to clamber out of the water, and reached down to help Montana out, before grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt, and hoisting him out onto the damp, cavern floor. While Matt and Montana scrambled to their feet, Dylan walked over to where the injured feeders were laying and calmly shot them in the head.

"Best to be sure," he spat, before heading purposefully towards the exit, as the others followed.

"I need to have a quick look around before we step outside," said Dylan. "But as soon as I see that the coast is clear, we hightail it to the car, okay?"

"Yep," agreed Matt.

"Hurry up then," urged Montana, shaking violently.

Dylan held his gun out in front of him as he moved out into the afternoon sunshine. He checked right and left for rogue feeders, before quickly scanning the bush that surrounded the car park like a giant amphitheatre.

"Looks like we scared them off," he said to the others, who were right behind him now, guns still drawn. "But lets not take any chances okay? Full sprint, then get straight into the car. I'll drive. Are you ready?"

Matt and Montana nodded.

"Let's go then."

They all ran as fast as they could towards the car, while scrutinizing the forest around them for danger. Their legs were cramped from being immersed in cold water for so long, and their feet were slipping around awkwardly inside their wet shoes, but they made it to the car without incident and scrambled in, pulling the doors behind them frantically. Dylan turned the key in the ignition and, as Matt and Montana looked back through the rear window for stray feeders, Dylan hammered the accelerator and the Landcruiser raced out of the car park, spewing up a shower of loose gravel behind it.

"Whoohoooooo!" screeched Montana, turning back to the front and smacking Dylan on the shoulder as they left the car park and joined the road that would take them out of the valley.

"We did it! We did it! Those fuckers won't know what's hit them! Beautiful!"

"Yeah, we did good!" beamed Dylan. "Now let's get home for dinner. I'm starving!"

Matt leaned over the back seat and pulled Montana close, before kissing her with a passion that came from having survived a close brush with death. She closed her eyes and cherished the warmth of his mouth, so alive and soft, so full of promise. She pulled him closer and buried her face into his neck, treasuring the vitality of his sweat. "I love you Matt," she whispered.

He pulled away from her embrace and looked at her beautiful face, beaming with joy. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Dylan screaming, "Feeders! Feeders!"

It was another group of warriors, maybe twenty in total, streaming from a path in the forest and onto the road in front of their car about forty metres ahead.

"Keep going!" yelled Matt, "Floor it!"

"No kidding!" responded Dylan, as he pushed his foot to the floor. "Buckle up kids!"

In seconds, the car had reached the gang of creatures that seemed to have no goal other than to sacrifice themselves, to stop the car from getting through. They charged ahead with fury in their eyes and no concern for self-preservation as the car bore down upon them.

The impact was unavoidable and brutal, and as the two closest creatures crunched violently into the front of the car and were crushed under its wheels, a third rolled up onto the hood of the vehicle, before sliding down onto the road where it lay twitching like a beached fish. Matt and Montana had only a split second to register the expressions of loathing and hatred on the other feeders' faces, as they slid rapidly by the car's windows, before turning and disappearing back into the bush, like spirits.

"Oh shit! They really hate us don't they?" cried Montana, as she peered fearfully through the windows for further signs of danger.

"That was fucking intense man! Holy shit! They're so fucking dumb!" yelled Dylan triumphantly.

"Hey, we're not safe yet," Matt reminded them. "Let's just get out of here and go home."

-

Forty minutes later they had reached the first houses on the outskirts of Carswell, when Dylan pulled the car over.

"What's wrong?" asked Matt.

"The car's overheating. We need to check it out."

Dylan popped the hood, and they all peered into the engine bay as steam rose ominously from the radiator.

"Looks like those feeders we hit got the last laugh," he stated sourly. "We've got a leak somewhere."

"Is it fixable?" asked Montana.

"Not in the time we have before it gets dark. We could refill the water in the radiator, but we may only make it halfway home. It's too risky. I don't want to be stranded on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere after dark. We'll have to find another car, or hole up somewhere safe here for the night."

"I don't like our chances of finding another car," said Matt, "Look around".

"Shit!" spat Dylan. There were only four cars visible in the deserted streets, and each was nothing more than a burnt out shell. "The marauders have been through Carswell destroying resources, I'd say."

"But why?" asked Montana, scared now of being stranded in the town that held so many painful memories.

"Who knows?" Dylan responded. "Maybe the marauders have a stockpile of vehicles over at the school, and they want some kind of advantage over travellers passing through. A lot of people would just be swapping their vehicle for another as their fuel runs out or as their car breaks down. If they try to do it here, and there aren't any vehicles to take, they're stranded and the marauders have them at their mercy. It's a primitive way of controlling the place. I bet you won't find much food around the place either." He paused, and then added, "Or maybe they're just destroying things for fun."

"What are we going to do then?" asked Matt. "We can't just stand here. It'll be getting dark in an hour or so."

The three friends stood on the road as the sun moved slowly towards the western horizon. Matt had his arm around Montana as they stared at their disabled vehicle, almost willing it to repair itself. Dylan slammed the hood of the car down. "Okay, we need to get this car out of sight and find somewhere to stay for the night. Any ideas?"

Neither Matt nor Montana had an opportunity to answer, however, before the sound of rumbling motorcycles had them reaching for their pistols as they jumped back into the car to try to find a place to hide. Dylan quickly started the engine, as the roar of the bikes grew louder outside. He shifted wildly into first gear and started to pull away while Matt and Montana screamed encouragement from the backseat, but even before he had reached top gear, he had to stop the car, as marauders, mostly on motorcycles, swarmed across the road in front of them as three large SUVs lurched into the road behind them from side streets. Perched on the roofs of the marauders' vehicles, in specially constructed turrets, were thugs aiming large weapons at them. Dylan, Matt and Montana sat trapped in their car, paralysed by fear and realising that this was not the time or place to make a stand. They could neither outrun them, nor fight their way out of this mess.

"This is not good," stated Dylan, somewhat obviously.

"Not good at all," agreed Matt, as three marauders climbed slowly from their choppers and walked towards the Landcruiser.

"Try not to look nervous, keep calm, and use your brains. It's our only chance," said Matt, as the first marauder, who was all dirt, hair and leather, stepped up to the driver's side door and drove the butt of his shotgun through the window, showering Dylan with tiny glass beads.

"Get out motherfuckers! You have three seconds! One... Two..."
Chapter 71

The Doctor

Deep in the heart of the Delano Caves, as the marauders in Carswell were surrounding Matt, Dylan and Montana, hordes of feeders waited for the return of the night, in a state of silent, suspended animation. The reflex that compelled them to return to the dark each day before the sun rose was strong, and once they were asleep, only the threat of immediate physical danger could drag them from their slumber. The warrior feeders that had survived the encounter with the humans earlier in the day had returned to their lair and lay beside their brethren, sleeping again, the memory of the battle forgotten. For this new breed, life was simple - hibernate during the daylight hours, feed and copulate at night, and protect the swarm. Always. This simple, animalistic regime, combined with the physiological changes, had made the feeders super-predators, and was proving to be an evolutionary success. So these creatures, incapable of experiencing a human emotion like confidence, slept as the dead - unable to imagine that any real harm could befall them. But their sense of security was misplaced because on four small digital, LCD screens nearby, red numbers winked methodically in silence, counting down the seconds to the feeders' demise.

-

"Where are you taking us?" asked Dylan, trying not to show the fear that was creeping up his spine like a poisonous spider.

The hairy brute in the back seat of the Hummer glared at him but didn't say a word. He simply smiled and went back to staring out the window. Matt and Montana had been thrown into the back seat of the SUV in front, and Dylan knew that they were being taken to the high school, where their fate would be determined by a bunch of foul-smelling Neanderthals with too much time on their hands.

"Not a chatterbox, eh?" taunted Dylan. "I thought we would could be buddies."

Dylan almost hoped that his irreverent attitude would elicit some reaction from this barbarian, but his silence was even more unsettling than a punch to the face. As the car turned into the street where the school was located, Dylan saw Montana's panicked face peering through the rear window of the car in front. Then a large hand appeared, whipping her head back around to the front, as the school loomed up ahead like a ghost ship. The marauder caravan of choppers and SUVs reached its destination, and a large gate was swung open by one of the biggest, ugliest men Dylan had ever seen, and the vehicles rolled into what had once been a car park for teachers.

What happened next was so swift and devoid of emotion that the three captives barely registered what was happening. They were dragged from their SUVs unceremoniously by six marauders, as the rest of the entourage climbed from their motorbikes and wandered away laughing and chatting. Matt, Dylan and Montana were stripped of anything that could be used as a weapon, and marched inside the front doors of the school together in silence. Dylan smiled at his friends, in an attempt to give them some confidence, but it was clear that they were scared out of their wits. Montana was crying, the tears making tracks down her dirty face, while Matt had gone the colour of a dead fish. Neither of them returned Dylan's smile.

The inside of the school was unpleasant, to say the least. The institution, that had once been a place of dreams and aspirations, now looked as if an insane murderer had decorated it after a bad acid trip. The walls were covered in painted slogans, each more violent and perverse than the last; the floor was littered with empty beer and liquor bottles; food scraps were everywhere, including the walls and ceiling, and some of the more interesting stains around the place looked awfully like blood. Dylan was feeling a lot less confident about their situation as they were pushed up against a wall and told to wait, while one of the marauders knocked on the door of the former Principal's office.

"Come!" ordered a hoarse male voice from behind the door.

The marauder stepped inside the office while Dylan, Matt and Montana stood beside their armed guards, wondering how long they had to live, and if they would ever see Sally, Bonnie and Gabby again. After a minute or so the marauder returned, followed closely by a man whose face was covered with so much scar tissue that it was difficult to identify any facial features at all. He walked over to the trio and studied them through his one good eye, as a horse trainer might appraise a new prospect, before turning to the guards and commenting, as if speaking through gravel, "You've done well. These ones look very fit. The last choices have been useless. Hardly worth the bother."

The guards smiled and nodded dutifully at their master's praise, then "Scarface" walked over to Montana and let his good eye wander up and down her body. He reached out and touched her cheek with a withered hand and as Montana cringed in revulsion, Dylan wondered what had caused this sociopath's injuries. He also wondered was how he would be able to kill this freak and help his friends escape from this hellish prison.

"I like her," said Scarface, with an expression that might have been a smile. "Don't put her with the others. I want her with me."

With that, the guards on either side of Montana took hold of an arm and marched her into the leader's office and closed the door.

"You fucking asshole!" yelled Matt, "What are you doing...?"

Before Matt could finish his sentence, however, the closest marauder punched him in the side of the head, sending him to the floor where he lay semi-conscious, while Dylan was restrained by the remaining guards.

"Easy there young friend," said 'Scarface', laughing as if they were old acquaintances. "You shouldn't get my comrades here all fired up. They love a bit of gratuitous violence. If you do as you're told you might just survive a little longer. I do love that feistiness, though! Very commendable! You're going to need that soon."

Dylan strained against the hold of the guards, but their bulk and strength was too much for him. He stared down Scarface, and tried to maintain control of his emotions.

"Hey handsome, how'd you get to be in charge here? It couldn't have been by winning a beauty contest, that's for sure."

The leader stared back and didn't speak. For a moment Dylan thought he might have pushed the man too far, as a malicious glare nailed him to the wall. Then the freak reached into his pocket, and Dylan feared he was about to become the latest victim of the marauders after all. A twisted smile appeared on the leader's face.

"Yes, you might be a bit of fun, I think," Scarface leered, as he held the object up towards Dylan's face.

As Dylan tried to twist his head away, though, the guards gripped his skull with large, powerful hands and pushed him back hard against the wall. A strong chemical smell assaulted Dylan's nostrils and it was only after he felt an unusual, soft sensation of pressure on his forehead, that he realised he'd been drawn upon by a permanent marker.

"You're number eight," Scarface boasted happily. "Your friend will be number nine," he added, as he crouched down on the floor where Matt lay, before inscribing a large '9' on his forehead.

A couple of minutes later, Dylan and Matt were standing outside a locked room, being held by four marauder guards, while a fifth unlocked a heavy steel door. Matt was still a little groggy from the blow to the head, but had been able to walk to length of the corridor alongside. As soon as the door was opened, their captors threw Dylan and Matt into the room, where they landed on the floor with a painful jolt. They scrambled to their feet as the door slammed shut behind them, and realised as they looked around, that they were not alone. Sitting dejectedly on the floor in the pale afternoon gloom were seven more survivors, each with a large, black number marked clearly on their forehead.

After they had spent a few minutes making very basic introductions, Dylan tried to get as much information from his fellow prisoners as he could. Matt tried to ignore a pounding headache and had difficulty keeping up with conversations, so Dylan made him as comfortable as possible, as he tried to assess the seriousness of their situation. The most gregarious of his companions was a middle-aged man named Peter from Sydney, who had been captured after heeding the siren song of his dreams to head west. He had stopped at Carswell a week ago to refuel and replenish supplies, but had been taken by the marauders and locked in this room.

"Number Three is the only one left, since I was first here," he informed Dylan ominously. "The others have been captured more recently."

"What's happening here?" asked Dylan. "What happens if they take you from this room? Do they let you go? What about the numbers on our forehead? What are they for?"

"Firstly, I doubt very much they're letting us go," answered Peter sadly. "Secondly, the numbers are how you get picked."

"What do you mean?"

"Each afternoon, at about four o'clock, the scar-faced chap makes an appearance here with his goons and picks a number out of a hat. If it's your number, they take you out of the room and that's the last time we see you."

Dylan stared at Peter, "Does anyone come back?"

Peter's stood and went to the barred window, s into the distance. "What do you think?"

There was such a defeated mood in the room that Dylan didn't even attempt to make conversation with the others. In all likelihood they would not be spending much time together and, unless he could come up with an escape plan, he knew that they might never leave the school alive. He went over to his Matt who was sitting up, and trying to read the time on his watch.

"Hey Dylan," mumbled Matt. "What time is it? I can't see my watch properly."

"Wow man, they must have hit you harder than I thought. You don't have a watch any more. They took it, along with all of our other stuff."

Matt forced a smile, "Ooh, that doesn't sound good. Where are we?"

"At the high school. The ugly prick that's in charge here has Montana! Why did you want to know the time, by the way? Do you have a hot date?"

"Huh? The time? Oh, I was thinking about the bombs. Do you think they went off?"

"I fucking hope so man, otherwise we've been captured for nothing."

Matt looked at Dylan with an expression that seemed to summarise all of the horrors that the young farmer had endured over the last few months.

"Hey Dylan?"

"Yeah man, what's up?"

"I want to go home."

Chapter 72

The Entertainment

Montana was back in a room she knew too well, but instead of facing the school Principal for truanting, she sat across from a man whose appearance alone was enough to give children nightmares. Before the event, Montana would have felt sympathy for a person as disfigured as her captor, but now she only felt revulsion, as she waited for him to speak. He stared across the large desk, his one good eye studying her as a cobra would a mouse. She tried to appear calm, but the fear was building inside her like a summer storm as she observed him, trying to find some clue that might give her an advantage, if an opportunity presented itself.

Montana analysed the man's appearance quickly as she waited for him to speak. He wasn't dressed like the other marauders she had seen so far. Rather than the post-apocalyptic, biker chic other bandits favoured, Scarface was wearing a black suit and a tie, as if he were the CEO of a multinational corporation.

"You like my suit," he stated, as if he had read Montana's mind.

"You don't see many people wearing suits these days," she replied, trying to hide her fear.

"No I suppose not. I think it's important to maintain my image, though, wouldn't you agree?"

"I wouldn't know," she answered, trying to keep the tone of her voice confident and casual. "What sort of image are you trying to project?"

"Ah, I've found a smart one haven't I?" he said, smiling crookedly through the mask of scar tissue. "That's a good question, and someone as intelligent and perceptive as you deserves a honest response. Let's face it, I'm not exactly surrounded by intellectual giants here am I?"

Sally kept her gaze on him, determined not to show weakness, as she waited for him to continue.

"The image I am projecting to these savages is quite simple really," he said. "I am their leader, and my power is absolute. This is not a democracy, and anyone who attempts to subvert my laws is dealt with quickly, and with extreme prejudice. There are no courts or lawyers, and I am the only judge. If I sense a threat from any of my followers, I cut them out of the group as you would a diseased organ from the body. There is no mercy, nor is there remorse. Within this town, I wield supreme authority, and I am very good at my job. The suit is a simple way to differentiate myself from my followers, and help them remember who is in charge. Now my dear girl, what do you say to that?"

"I say you're a megalomaniac," Montana replied, matter-of-factly.

Scarface laughed. "Your teachers have done an excellent job! Your vocabulary is excellent, but you're wrong, I'm afraid. I have no desire for power for its' own sake. I use it only to get what I need, and in this crazy new world, the critical resource is not material wealth or even food. Do you know what the ultimate prize is now, more than anything else?"

Montana thought carefully. She was getting the impression that this freak across the desk was testing her somehow, and that her answer would determine the nature of their relationship, for as long as she was to be his captive.

"The thing that's most prized now," she replied, "Is safety from the feeders."

"Yes! Safety from the feeders! Very good! Very good!" he said, clapping his wizened hands together. "My feeling about you was so right! You are the clever one, aren't you! So now, if you'll forgive some self-importance for a moment, allow me to tell you my story."

Despite the horror of the situation she had found herself in, Montana felt that she had just earned a reprieve of sorts. The feeling of dread, not only for herself, but also for Matt and Dylan, was still present, but the threat of immediate danger seemed to have receded somewhat, so she sat and tried to focus on what this lunatic had to say.

"Before the event, believe it or not, I was a doctor, and a very good one. I was a specialist in emergency surgery - a genius actually. Ironic, isn't it, that someone with my injuries, would end up in the field I did, but life works in mysterious ways sometimes, doesn't it? The scars are from burns I suffered at the age of eight. I was coming home with my parents after a party. They were drunk; our car hit a tree and caught on fire. They were killed instantly, but a passer-by managed to drag me from the wreckage and that was that. I spent over a year in hospital recovering. I hated my dead parents for what they did, and I suppose I became quite the cold fish. Once I was rehabilitated enough to be free of pain I started to enjoy hospital life and decided it was where I wanted to stay, and eventually return to as a doctor. Do you realise the power that a good surgeon has in their hands?"

Montana said nothing, so he went on.

"I eventually left the hospital I went back to school and did very well. I was an intelligent boy and graduated high school at the top of my class, despite the bullying that I was subject to almost every day. After that I was accepted into university to study medicine. There was plenty of money from the insurance, so it was easy once I had made the decision. After I graduated I obviously couldn't go into general practice, looking like I did, so I became a surgeon. I found that my temperament was perfectly suited to the work - I could operate without emotion, like a robot, and work very long hours without becoming tired. It didn't even upset me when people died. I was just annoyed that I had failed, but I had no concern at all for the victims or their families. Surgery was just an intellectual puzzle for me to solve. I realise now, of course, that I was a sociopath. Do you know what that is?"

Montana shivered, "Yes."

"Tell me."

"It's a person who has no feelings of um, what's the word? Is it empathy? For the problems of other people."

"You're right again. That's quite a rudimentary definition, but close enough."

"Can I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"How did you operate with those hands?"

He paused, and Montana felt his eye boring into her. She wondered if she had thrown away the phony goodwill that had just been established, but the man answered, setting her mind at rest.

"It wasn't easy, that's for sure, but I have more movement in these claws than it appears. Most of the damage is only skin deep."

He held up his hands and flexed his disfigured fingers back and forth as if to prove the point.

"What's going to happen to us?" asked Montana.

"You'll find out in due time my dear. Aren't you curious as to how a freak like me came to lead this band of misfits, though?"

"I guess, I'm more worried about my friends."

"I have very exciting plans for your friends. You'll find out about that later. Let me finish my story."

Montana watched in silence as he continued.

"When the world changed, I was one of the lucky ones, like you. I got out of the city alive and started heading west, like many others. But when I arrived here in Carswell, something compelled me to stop. There was nobody else living here at the time, just people passing through on the way west, and so I had the place to myself. There was plenty of evidence of previous zombie activity, however, and I even discovered a couple of zombie bodies behind the petrol station. They had been shot through the head. I wondered about that, but I couldn't understand it, so I just moved on. It didn't take me long to find the school, and I realised straight away that it would be a perfect fortress, so I moved in. Then I got lucky. A group of marauders came into the town while I was gathering supplies, and they had an injured companion. He'd fallen off his motorcycle and had broken his leg. If it weren't treated, he would have died. I brought him to the school and set his leg in a cast, so he survived. They were grateful and decided to stay with me at the school while he recovered."

He paused, waiting for some kind of response from Montana.

"There must be more than that to this story," she said. "You wouldn't achieve power over these people just by fixing a busted leg."

"Very astute of you - of course not. Over the next few days more marauders arrived at the school. I can't explain how they knew to come here, but come they did. I considered locking them out, but I knew I couldn't stop them all, and besides, there is such a thing as safety in numbers. Also I felt they might need me because of my skills as a doctor. There was no leader in the camp at that point; everyone was just doing their own thing, living as a group of unruly individuals. But, on the third day an argument started between a new arrival and one of the original group. As the fight got physical, I could visualise the whole situation turning bad, and anarchy developing, which would ultimately force me to leave the school and the town. I didn't want that. I belonged here, and I intended to stay."

Despite her distaste for the man before her, Montana was interested in his story now. "What happened?"

"I walked into the room where the fight was taking place, and without hesitation, I shot one of the marauders in the head. The survivor was so impressed with my ruthlessness that he became my protector. Since then, I've just built on that concept of total loyalty to me, or death. They love it, because they don't have to think. I provide shelter, medical care, food, entertainment and organisation, and they can do whatever they like as long as they don't challenge my authority or the unity of the group. I've had two more problems with troublemakers since then, and I had them both shot as a warning to the others. So really it's nothing more than a dictatorship, but it works. Any questions?"

"Can I see my friends?"

"Well, that depends. If they're chosen, they'll be part of tonight's entertainment, and you'll get to see them. But for now, I have things to do. Guard!"

On that command, the door swung open and one of Scarface's goons entered the office. He took Montana roughly by the arm and dragged her away before she had a chance to ask any more questions. She was pushed unceremoniously into a dark storeroom, and the door was locked behind her. She stared at the wall and wondered what Scarface had meant by entertainment, and if Matt and Dylan were safe. She slumped to the cold, hard floor and sobbed.

-

"They'll be here soon."

Dylan turned and looked at the woman sitting next to him. Number Five. She had dark circles under her eyes and it was impossible to tell whether she was thirty or sixty.

"Not long now," she said, almost forlornly. "The waiting is almost worse than the idea of dying, you know. Almost."

"Oh," said Dylan. "What do you think happens to the people who have their numbers chosen?"

She looked at him with those dark, sad eyes and answered without emotion. "They die."

Almost on cue the door was thrust open and Scarface entered, flanked by two armed marauders. Matt and Dylan sensed the change in the room as everyone stood up, their backs to the wall. The boys followed suit.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman," said Scarface. "It's time to choose. I hope you've got plenty of energy. My people expect a good performance tonight. I have a special treat, too, because I'm in a good mood. We're going to have two contestants instead of one- it should make it all the more fun."

Matt and Dylan looked at each other. What was this freak talking about? While they were both curious about the game that was being played out, it was important that neither be chosen to for some twisted amusement for a pack of marauders. If they got lucky, and survived the deadly draw, then they would have another day to try to plan some kind of escape, no matter how unlikely the prospect was. If one or both of them were picked out, however, escape would be virtually impossible. Scarface took the black hat from his head and handed it to one of the guards, who held it upside down like a cup. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of makeshift tickets. He showed the potential victims their number, with some sense of enjoyment it seemed, before placing the piece of paper into his hat. After shuffling the numbers around with his withered hand, he pulled one out and held it up to his good eye. The room was silent and everyone held their breath as they waited to learn their fate.

"Number five," he announced, holding the stub out for all to see.

Matt and Dylan breathed a sigh of relief, but the woman that Matt had spoken to earlier screamed as her number was called. One of the guards stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face, and she fell to the floor in a heap. No one moved to help her as Scarface began to stir the remaining tickets. They watched as his hand withdrew another number from the hat. He squinted at the piece of paper.

"The second contestant is number..."
Chapter 73

Extract from Sally's Journal:

_"I am barely able to put pen to paper at the moment because Matt, Dylan and Montana haven't come home. They should have been back before dark, but they're not. I know that they might just be holed up somewhere waiting for the daylight, but I can't get out of my mind that they might be dead already. I feel like I am betraying them by writing that down, but it's the way I feel, so it goes into my journal._

_Gabby senses that something is wrong, and Bonnie and I have tried to keep her spirits high, but it's really difficult under the circumstances. Tonight we cooked dinner like we always do, but because the others weren't with us it was very quiet and sad. We tried to act as if everything was fine, but I think Gabby saw right through our charade. We made her drink a hot chocolate and put her to bed early, thinking that if she slept, she wouldn't be worrying. I wish I could do the same._

_We can still see the fire burning outside the fence, and it looks as if the people there aren't going anywhere in a hurry. I'm very concerned that they will just keep arriving, and then one day they will just decide to come in and take Gabby by sheer force of numbers. If that was the case then I don't know what Bonnie and I could do to stop them. I miss the boys and Montana so much! If they were here, I would feel so much better about things. Together we could probably come up with some plan to get rid of those people. I can only imagine it being done through violent means, though. Not a pleasant thought!_

_I've tried not to think about it too much, but I think we may have to leave the farm soon. If that crowd outside the gate keeps growing, we'll have no choice. It may be better to leave before it all gets out of control. I know Matt won't want to leave, but I can't see an alternative. I thought that maybe we could go to Kate's house in the hills, but surely these people would just follow us up there. I don't think going back to the city is an option either. I have visions of the streets swarming with feeders after dark, and so that's obviously not a very desirable scenario. The only place left to go, then, is further into the countryside. Many people are heading west and it just might be that there is salvation that way, but how do we know? And what if Gabby's 'followers' do exactly that, and follow us? I don't see a bright future for us right now._

_Bonnie just came in to say goodnight. She told me to "hang in there". That's easier said than done I'm afraid! I feel guilty, too, on top of everything else, because of my feelings for Matt. Both boys are in danger, but all I can think about is Matt coming home safely. Am I a bitch, for thinking that way? I think most people would say yes, but I can't help the way I feel. If they come home safely I think I'll have to share my secret with him. I can't go on pretending to love Dylan when it's not the truth. God I hope they're safe._
_Chapter 74_

_The Show Begins_

Montana was woken from her fitful nap by the sound of the storeroom door being flung open.

"Get up," ordered the shadowy figure. "The Doctor wants to see you. I'll take you to the bathroom first."

"Some doctor," she thought cynically, as she scrambled to her feet and squeezed past the guard whose filthy, fat figure filled the doorframe.

There was nobody else in the corridors, marauder or otherwise, and she wondered if it had something to do with the 'entertainment' that Scarface had mentioned earlier. Her escort gave her a not-so-gentle push in the back, and then followed closely, giving one-word directions until they arrived at a door that read Female'.

"You got three minutes!" he snarled.

The bathroom comprised nothing more than a toilet, a hand basin and a single shower stall. The windows were barred, and Montana could tell by the dusky light penetrating the frosted glass, that the sun was getting low in the sky. She used the toilet, and then washed her face and hands in the basin. Running water? The school must have had rainwater tanks installed at some point in the past. She'd never considered where the school's water came from while she was a student, but now she couldn't stop thinking about things like that. As she looked in the mirror she realised that she'd aged since the event. Her face, while still beautiful, was harder now, and her eyes looked as if they were keeping some kind of dark secret. She didn't for a moment doubt that Scarface had chosen her for her desirability. She tried to think of a way out of this mess, but only disheartening questions sprung up in her mind, as she ran her hands through her hair. How could she ever hope to escape from this predicament? Were the boys safe? Would she ever see 'Two Hills' again? Were Gabby, Bonnie and Sally safe? There were no answers to these questions, she realised sadly, as a hard thump rattled the door, and she was brought back to the cold hard reality of her current predicament.

Back in the Principal's office with Doctor Scarface (as she now thought of him), she listened to his crazy rationalisation of the upcoming show.

"You see, my dear, it's not enough that I rule by fear and intellect - I have to give my followers something to keep them amused while our legion grows. I came up with the idea as I watched a stranded survivor being devoured by feeders outside the school fence one night. It was quite a spectacle; but, rather than being repulsed by the whole grotesque scene, my band of misfits actually enjoyed it, and the more the victim fought and screamed, the more they laughed and cheered. Then, after a few minutes, when the massacre was over, everybody seemed to be in a rather good mood."

Montana stared at the monster before her and tried to imagine the horror of what had just been described. She was too stunned to comment, and Scarface seemed to interpret her silence as some kind of tacit approval, so he continued.

"Anyway, the next night everyone gathered behind the fence again, hoping to witness a repeat of the previous night's entertainment, but nothing eventuated, and eventually everybody went back to their own diversions in a more subdued mood. That's when I realised that waiting for random stragglers to stumble upon the school to be eaten by zombies was ridiculously optimistic and statistically unlikely."

Montana stared at the lunatic opposite in dread, as she waited for him to utter the words she knew would be coming. He smiled crookedly through his leathery features.

"Yes, you've worked it out haven't you? I decided to give these barbarians what they wanted. All I had to do was organise a hunting party and build up a supply of contestants. It really wasn't very difficult."

"You fucking freak! You have Matt and Dylan! You can't do this!"

Suddenly the Doctor's face showed pure hatred and contempt as he moved closer to Montana. "I _can_ do this, and I _will_ do this! We're all living in a brave, new world now and only the strong and the smart will survive. The show will go ahead tonight, as usual, and you will be my guest. You will see that the old ways are irrelevant. Now, go and get some warm clothes on. It looks chilly out there, and I don't want you catching a cold. Guard!"

-

Fifteen minutes later Montana was sitting in a makeshift grandstand in the teachers' car park, waiting for the appearance of tonight's victims. She had the best seat in the house next to Scarface, and around them marauders laughed and drank from bottles of beer or Jack Daniels. She was attracting many salacious stares from these brutes (and some jealous ones from the women), but nobody approached her directly. It was clear that there was absolute respect for The Doctor within the walls of this asylum, and that Montana was off limits to everyone except him.

The temperature was dropping rapidly as she peered to the west, where the sun was just beginning to dip beneath the trees. Outside the fence, a dozen large flares had been set up in two parallel rows about twenty metres apart on either side of the gates, their flames sending black plumes of smoke straight up into the darkening sky. Beside each gate stood four armed guards, and Montana knew that the stage was set and the show wasn't far away. She had a sick feeling in her stomach when a lone figure emerged from behind the grandstands and walked towards the centre of the car park, and it took all of her willpower not to cry. The crowd screamed and cheered as the man, who was dressed in a long black jacket and a top hat, reached the centre of the car park, before turning to face them. He allowed the ovation to continue for a few seconds before holding both hands above his head. The horde became silent instantly.

"Ladies and gentleman!" bellowed the ringmaster. "The Doctor has organised some fun for you all tonight!"

Cheering.

"There will be blood spilt! Please show your appreciation."

A deafening round of applause and cheers echoed around the improvised arena as The Doctor stood and bowed politely, with mock sincerity. As the applause died down, the ringmaster continued.

"The Doctor thanks you, ladies and gentleman. Now, it's time to start the show!"

All heads turned to the left, as two more guards entered the arena dragging a long metal chain. Montana stood and tried to peer above the heads of the cheering mob, but could only catch fleeting glimpses of the two shackled figures that were being led into view, staring wildly about at the overwhelming scene before them. With a partially obscured view in the early evening gloom, it was impossible to tell if either of the figures was Matt or Dylan, but when the ringmaster raised his hands again and the crowd returned to their seats, Montana saw that tonight's victims were to be a middle-aged man and a younger woman, who was now slumped on the grey asphalt, which was darkening beneath her, as a puddle of urine pooled where she sat. Montana's heart ached for them and the torment they were about to endure, but also felt some perverse sense of relief that Matt and Dylan had received at least one day's grace. Despite her revulsion at the scene before her, Montana forced herself to focus, and pay attention to her surroundings, hoping that she might spot some weakness in The Doctor's organisation that might give her and the boys a chance to escape before tomorrow night. She examined the panorama around her as The Doctor placed his withered hand on her knee.

"Almost ready," he purred into Montana's ear, as the ringmaster held up his hands for silence once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please give it up for Number Four and Number Five. Open the gates!"

As two of the guards swung open the big, double gates, six others raised their weapons and kept them trained on the growing shadows outside the fence, wary of early-bird feeders. Then the victims were grabbed by two more guards and dragged to the open gates, where one end of their chain was attached to the bottoms of the heavy gateposts.

Montana watched in horror as the man and woman fought against their captors, as the crowd laughed and roared their approval at their futile antics. Then, in an act of brutality that would haunt Montana for the rest of her life, the two victims were hauled outside the gates, and thrown onto the ground, before the gates were closed and locked behind them.

The crowd cheered for the man and woman, as they screamed and tried to pull the locked gates open, but when the ringmaster raised his hands once more crowd became silent, waiting for the next act in this violent and disturbing farce.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he roared, as the pleas for compassion continued outside the gates.

"The Doctor is a reasonable and compassionate man! Tonight's contestants will not be sacrificed as lambs to the slaughter, will they?"

"No!" screamed the crowd, as one.

"Do you want to see a fair fight?"

"Yes!" they yelled.

"Bring the equalisers!" ordered the ringmaster, as two young, buxom women appeared from the right side of the stage to a standing ovation.

Each of the women carried a weapon, and when they reached the ringmaster they stood and held aloft an axe and a sledgehammer to the hearty approval of the baying crowd. The ringmaster took the axe first, and walked over to the gates, where the victims, still attached to their chains, were futilely trying to find a way back into the school. He swung the axe behind him and heaved it over the fence, where it landed between the two rows of flares. Immediately the man and the woman sprinted towards the weapon, dragging their chains. The man was faster and seized the axe, leaving the woman unarmed temporarily. The sledgehammer was hurled over the fence next, and the woman rushed to pick it up as the man watched on.

Montana studied the unfolding drama and tried to spot some weakness that she could exploit to help her and the boys escape, but it all seemed too hard. There were too many guards, weapons and marauders for three people to defeat. The two victims were now backed up hard against the fence with their weapons and were screaming, "Help us!" and "You can't do this!" But the ruthless audience threw each of their pleas back at them in a high-pitched taunting cacophony.

Then, as if directed by a stage manager, the first feeder appeared out of the gloom. It came into view like a ghostly apparition, just beyond the light thrown by the flares, and stood for a few seconds studying the victims, who were now screaming in abject fear. The crowd roared their approval at the prospect of unrestrained violence and then, without any hesitation, the creature ran at the two victims, who raised their weapons above their head. Montana was horrified, and wanted to close her eyes, but something compelled her to watch as the nightmarish scene played out.

The feeder reached the couple and leapt at the woman who swung the sledgehammer wildly. The woman had underestimated the weight of the weapon, however, and her strike missed the creature. The feeder pounced on her with tremendous velocity, throwing the woman to the ground, where it began ripping chunks out of her neck, sending torrents of blood arcing through the firelight. The man had avoided the feeder's initial attack, but now sensed an opportunity as the creature ripped the woman apart with its teeth and claws. As the crowd howled in excitement, he raised the axe and brought it down hard on the feeder's skull, splitting it in two and killing it instantly. The crowd cheered as the man kicked the feeder's body from the woman, who was writhing on the ground, unable to even scream, as blood flowed out of her like a flooding river. The man yelled to the guards, "Help her! Help her!" But the laughter from the crowd made it clear that the woman was going to die, writhing in pain as the marauders watched on. The man gazed blankly at the crowded grandstand, before returning his attention to the woman who was in her death throes at his feet.

He raised his axe, and in a rare moment of compassion, brought the weapon down on the woman's head, as the crowd cheered, finding humour in the violence. Then, as the man turned away from the mutilated bodies at his feet, a swarm of feeders streamed from the darkness, as if drawn by the scent of blood and death. Montana could take no more, and closed her eyes as the feeders raced towards the man. Despite the fact that she could see nothing of the carnage, the reaction of the audience was enough to suggest that the man had taken out one or two of the feeders with his axe, before being overwhelmed and devoured. So while she sat next to The Doctor, trying to block out the sounds of bodies being ripped apart by hungry feeders, she realised that this was never intended to be a 'fair fight'. It was simply a brutal execution designed to appease the masses of marauders so that the Doctor could maintain power.

If she and the boys couldn't find a way to escape this nightmare before the next 'contest', she knew that one or both of her friends would almost certainly die.
Chapter 75

The Doctor Sleeps

Once the main entertainment was over and the marauders were bored with watching the creatures devour the man and the woman outside the fence, the ringmaster gave a signal and everybody stood, as Scarface and Montana were escorted away from the arena. Instead of being led back to the office she had been in earlier, however, the guards took them to a classroom on the second floor. The room was unlike any other she had seen inside the school so far. It had been furnished like an apartment and it even had a basic kitchen and its own bathroom. Montana knew that this had once been a special education classroom, but its previous function was now almost completely disguised by luxurious furnishings and shelves full of books. Scarface walked across the room and threw a bulky ring of keys onto a table before asking Montana if she was hungry. She looked at him with pure disgust.

"How can you expect me to eat after watching that?" she challenged. "It was the sickest thing I've ever seen! And that's saying something, isn't it? Especially after everything that's happened."

The Doctor poured himself a large tumbler of scotch and gulped it down in one mouthful before speaking. "Montana, I needed you to see the show tonight so you understand what you're dealing with here. These people are animals. They will kill for me. Luckily, though, I like you. You're very fresh, and you have an energy that I find invigorating. I want to keep you around as my ... companion, but it's important that you respect what I've done here, for these people. I've found a way to survive these feeders. Do you understand how important that is?"

Montana understood, all right. She understood that the man standing before her was as crazy as a shithouse rat! There was no way that she was getting out of this madhouse by pleading for reason or kindness. She was going to have to escape this mess by being as wild and ruthless as her captor was.

"I understand," she said, trying to sound as genuine as possible, while inside she was trying to work out how she could kill this psychopath.

"Will that happen again tomorrow?" she asked. "The entertainment, I mean."

"Oh, no. We don't do it every night. By making the rewards random, I keep them interested. I wasn't planning on having a contest tomorrow night. Why do you ask?"

"I'm worried about my friends. Do you think I could see them tomorrow morning?"

"Mmm. Still worried about them are you? I think they'll make excellent contestants. They look very strong and resourceful. How about this? I'll make you an offer. I'll allow you to see them one last time, but you have to agree to one thing?"

"What's that?" she asked.

"I want your friends to fight together."

"That's not fair! It might not be their turn! That's a terrible offer!"

"That's it though Montana. You can see them tomorrow morning, but in two night's time they fight as a double act. Take it or leave it."

She studied the cruel face of The Doctor, and considered her options. Eventually both Matt and Dylan's numbers would be chosen and they would face the feeders in a battle that they couldn't win anyway, so maybe they could find some advantage in being paired together as a team.

"Okay then, but I get to see the boys in the morning."

"Very good, that's settled then," he said as his face wrinkled into an awkward smile. "Now come and sit down next to me so we can talk."

Montana sat down next to the madman, and for the next half hour pretended to be interested in his disjointed monologue about the new world order and how he was going to build an empire to serve his will - or something. At one point a guard brought meals to them, which Montana forced herself to eat, but by the time The Doctor had finished two thirds of his bottle of scotch, he was snoring loudly on the couch in a drunken stupor. Montana went to the door and opened it a crack, but when she saw the guard sitting opposite with a shotgun resting on his lap, she smiled and closed the door again. She wandered around the room as The Doctor slept, trying to find some clue to get herself out of this nightmare, but there was nothing to suggest a way to either sneak out, or to overcome the might of the marauders. She considered using the comatose Doctor as some kind of hostage, or even killing him, but she rejected that idea almost immediately, knowing that she would never be able to get past the guards. Then, just as she was beginning to think that her situation was hopeless, and that she and the boys would perish in this hellhole, she saw something that gave her an idea. It was a dangerous and unlikely plan, but given her options, Montana knew that she would have to try. She went over to a desk that was piled with assorted junk and found a pen and piece of scrap paper, on which she wrote a long message. Then she folded up the note and tucked it away in her bra, before crawling onto the bed to try to sleep, as the sounds of The Doctor's snoring continued from the couch.

-

When Montana woke the next morning, she realised that The Doctor had taken his leave sometime during the night, but not before covering her with a blanket. The thought of it creeped her out, but at least he hadn't tried anything while she slept. It did make her wonder, though, if the burns he received in the car accident as a child had affected more than just his face. She climbed out of bed and went to the door. A different guard was stationed across the hall this morning, and when he issued a gruff, "Come with me," Montana followed without argument.

He led her by the arm to the same bathroom she'd used the previous afternoon, and gave her a few minutes alone before taking her downstairs to a large hall, which was being used as a communal dining room. A clock high on the wall said it was 7:16 and Montana guessed that most of the marauders liked to sleep late, because there were only around a dozen people in the room eating breakfast. The guard walked her to a door on the far side of the room that led to the sunny space they'd spied from the back of the school a couple of days ago. They stopped just outside the door, and Montana could see that The Doctor was sitting at a table loaded with all kinds of food, sharing breakfast with two of his inner circle, while they talked very seriously about something or other. When The Doctor looked up and saw Montana, he gave the guard a signal, and Montana was brought over to his table as the two marauders made their exit.

"Good morning my dear. I hope you slept well. Sit down and have something to eat."

"Thanks," she said, taking up the position opposite.

"Now, do you know what day it is today?"

Montana tried to think, but had absolutely no idea what day of the week it was. Since the event, calendars seemed to have lost their importance. Matt kept one at the farm, which he used to check the days off, but as far as Montana was concerned, living in the new world was just a case of just getting through one day at a time. It wasn't as if they had anything in particular to look forward to.

"No," she answered. "What day is it?"

"Today is Sunday, and on Sunday we rest."

"Isn't every day a rest day?" asked Montana.

The Doctor laughed. "Of course not. We might look like a bunch of disorganised misfits to you, but we are building an army here. Each day more people arrive, and once I've assessed them as being suitable for our group, they need to be initiated and trained and shown the truth and purity of our mission."

"Your mission? What is that? I thought you were just satisfied being the leader here. What mission could you possible have, apart from just staying alive, that is?"

"Montana, there is so much more to this new society than just the feeders, you know. All around the country, and probably all around the world, new alliances are being forged and new enemies are being made. The rise of feeders was seen by most as a global catastrophe; but there are many of us who saw it differently. For us, it was like a rebirth, much in the same way that most of the world's population was reborn as feeders. We see the feeders as our allies; they have given us an opportunity to become masters of the daylight hours. In time we will become the dominant force, and will create the world in our image, living by our own doctrine and philosophies."

As The Doctor outlined his psychotic scheme, Montana's mind raced with fear and anxiety. She knew The Doctor was insane from his drunken ramblings from last night, but she had no idea of the extent of his grand vision. She needed to keep him talking, because the more he confided in her, the more he would trust her, and her plans to escape might be easier to execute.

"Why did you assume my friends and I wouldn't want to join your group? Wouldn't we be a great asset for your team?"

"No you wouldn't, actually. I don't know if you are aware, but there seems to be a whole new range of skills that people have now, one of which is the ability to sense innate good or evil in others."

"I hadn't noticed," she replied casually. "What do you mean?"

"I think you might have noticed, but we'll let that slide. There are people now who are getting strong feelings about things like who they should trust, or where they should be. Lots of people are heading west, for example. You must have noticed."

Montana had noticed, but she wasn't going to tell The Doctor as much. She thought about her own strong initial sense that Gabby was special when they escaped from Carswell the first time. She thought of Kate's instinct about Gabby being unique, and how Bonnie knew that Gabby was still alive, even when it seemed like an impossibility. Then she considered Gabby and her unusual abilities, not only to deter evil, but also the way she sensed outcomes of some events before they happened. All of these thoughts went through Montana's mind in a split second, but she didn't utter a single word of them, as she waited for The Doctor to continue.

"Anyway, I think most people possess these new psychic skills, at varying levels, but some are more powerful than others - we actually have a few of these here with us. For some reason the ones with the strongest abilities are usually women. We call them 'psychs'. Not very original I guess, but it seems to describe what they do. When we bring survivors to our compound the psychs tell me what end of the spectrum the new arrivals belong to - like choosing teams I suppose. Anyway, our kind, the marauders, stay with us and join our mission, while the others, decent people like you and your male friends, are used as labour, or as combatants in our entertainment evenings, like last night. There is one other thing, though, that my psychs have been picking up on. There is a person - a girl - somewhere not far from here, who seems to be a figurehead, a talisman, if you like, for your side. Do you know anything about that?"

The Doctor was talking about Gabby.

Montana tried to hide her shock as The Doctor waited for the answer.

"No. I don't know what you mean. I've only seen people trying to survive the feeders. I don't know anything about this other stuff."

"Well never mind. Wherever this girl is, we'll find her. We don't know why she's important, but she needs to be eliminated. She is becoming very powerful. In just a few days we'll be sending a small army to the west. The psychs will lead us straight to her, and she will be executed. Now, I've talked enough. Eat some breakfast."

Montana was horrified by this new turn of events. Everything was escalating rapidly, and now Gabby's life was directly threatened. Also, this megalomaniac doctor was building an army of the wicked, and from all accounts he wasn't the only one. She wished that his story had been the deluded ranting of a madman, but deep inside she knew that it was true. She tried to think of something to say that might keep the conversation going, but her mind was in overload.

"How do I fit in?" she blurted finally, unsure of where the question had even come from.

"Montana, there is an old saying. "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." I'm afraid you're the enemy. It won't be long before almost everyone on earth has chosen their sides in this upcoming battle, and both teams will want to win. The victors will rule the world, ushering in a new dawn of unity and strength! I want to be on the winning team. It's as simple as that. I always keep a foe by my side to remind me not to be complacent. Also, as I said last night, there's an energy within you that I find rather invigorating. So, until I become bored with you, you will stay by my side and I will try to learn as much from you as I can. Now, I think it's time I took you to see your friends for the last time, as promised, because tomorrow they fight the feeders."
Chapter 76

The Followers

Sally was sound asleep when Bonnie woke her. "Hurry up! I have to show you something."

"What's up? Are the others back?" asked Sally frantically, still half-asleep.

"No, but there's something you need to see. Come on."

Sally wrapped a blanket around her to ward off the morning chill and followed Bonnie out into the lounge room.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Bonnie moved to the front window and pulled the curtains open. "Look."

"My god!" Sally gasped, "Where did they come from?"

"I don't know, but I've counted about thirty. That's way more than last night. If they keeping arriving at this rate, we'll have hundreds of them out there within a week or two."

Sally studied the assembly outside the fence. They sat around in small groups or pairs, occasionally looking up towards the house, as they chatted. Two more fires had been lit since last night, and people huddled around them, holding their hands toward the flames to keep warm. Bonnie pointed out to Sally that there was no dominant type amongst the crowd - the ages ranged from toddlers to older folk, and there was an even mix between genders.

"Why do they keep coming?" asked Sally. "What do they want from us?"

"I'm not sure," answered Bonnie. "Let's get Gabby up and ask her."

"I'll get breakfast ready while you wake her," offered Sally, padding off to the kitchen.

Bonnie went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed next to her daughter. It really was true, she thought - children did look like angels while they were asleep. The love she felt for Gabby was overwhelming, but a dark shadow hung over their future together. Bonnie sensed that the little girl she had given birth to six years ago was becoming a part of a much larger family. She didn't want to admit it, but Gabby's inexplicable powers were not their secret any more. She stroked her daughter's forehead and gently called her name.

"Morning mummy," Gabby said dreamily, as she opened her eyes.

"Good morning sweetheart," Bonnie said, bending down to hug her. "How did you sleep?"

"Okay. Is it time to get up?" she asked, as she scratched her crazy mop of bed hair.

"Yes honey, it's breakfast time; Sally's getting it ready. Put your dressing gown and slippers on."

They walked to the kitchen together, where Sally was stirring a pot of oats, and sat down at the table.

"Good morning Sally," said Gabby. "Can we have sultanas in our porridge please?"

"Consider it done," Sally replied, opening the cupboard.

Bonnie looked at the cherubic face of her only child across the table, dressed in her pink gown, her hair wild like an exotic bird's nest, and took a deep breath. She knew that by asking Gabby about the crowd outside, she would be opening a Pandora's box that would probably never be closed. Up until now, Gabby had only offered snippets of information about the post-civilisation world as issues arose, and nobody in the house pressed the girl, because they were desperate for her to have a childhood that was as normal as possible. Now, though, with a crowd building outside, and Matt, Dylan and Montana missing, it was important that they try to develop some kind of understanding about what was happening, even if it was upsetting to talk about. Sally placed a bowl of steaming porridge down on the table, then sat and waited anxiously for Bonnie to begin the discussion.

"Gabby honey, some more people are outside the farm this morning."

"Aha," she replied through a mouthful of milky oats.

"Did you know they were coming?"

"Um, sort of."

"What do you mean sort of?"

"Um, I kind of thought they would come, but I can't know for sure. I know they wanted to, but sometimes they can't make it."

Bonnie and Sally looked at each other; amazed by the matter-of-fact way this little girl spoke about these extraordinary things. Gabby shovelled another spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

"Why can't they make it sometimes, honey?"

Gabby raised her face from the bowl, and looked at her mother with a puzzled frown. "I'm not sure. I think someone stops them sometimes."

"Feeders?"

"Not always. In some places I think there are bad people."

Gabby's demeanour had changed slightly, as the questions became a little more confronting, so she changed the subject. "Gabby, what about the people outside the fence? Why are they here?"

"That's easy," she replied. "They're scared."

"Scared of what?"

"You're asking a lot of questions mummy. Can I go and play now?"

"No sweetie, not just yet. I know these questions aren't fun, but mummy needs you to answer them, okay?"

"Okay," she said, obviously bored with the whole discussion.

"Okay, sweetie, I want you to tell me why these people are coming to us? Why don't they go somewhere else?"

"Oh, they feel safe here."

"But why?"

Gabby pushed a stray sultana around with her spoon. "Because I'm here."

Bonnie glanced at Sally. This meant that the situation was escalating quickly. If people sensed that Gabby was their salvation, they would just keep coming. The farm would turn into a refugee camp, and they would end up being trapped, with all their freedom taken away as a cult built around Gabby. God, she wished the others were here to tell her what to do!

"Gabby, honey I need to ask you something else, but I don't want you to be scared okay?"

"Okay mummy."

"Do you think those people outside the fence would ever hurt us?"

Gabby looked at Sally and Bonnie in turn, as her brow furrowed. It was obvious that this was a question she would prefer not to answer. Bonnie encouraged her with a smile, "It's all right sweetheart. Just tell us what you think. Whatever you say, we won't mind. Are we safe from those people?"

"Well, I think so," she answered, hesitantly. "But there are others that want to hurt us. It's safer somewhere else."

"Where sweetie? Where is it safer?"

"A long way away. I don't know what its name is, but lots of people are going there. Not bad people - just good ones, like us. I think it's somewhere shiny. Like glass."

"What do you mean shiny, like a lake?"

"Mmm. I don't know mummy, just glassy."

"Okay sweetie, that's enough questions. Let's go and get you dressed."

Later, while Gabby was playing in her room, Bonnie and Sally sat in the lounge room and tried to analyse this new information, as the crowd continued their vigil outside.

"I don't want to be an alarmist," Bonnie said, "But what happens if Matt and the others don't come back?"

"Oh my god, I can't even think about it. I'm scared. What are we going to do?"

"Look, there's no point panicking just yet, but we have to consider our options. If we stay here, we'll end up trapped by that mob. Shit, we may be already, who knows? I think that if the others don't come back soon, we should think about leaving and head west. I think that's what Gabby was talking about, when she said "shiny"."

"What do you mean?"

"I think she must have meant Diamond Creek. You know, like glass. Diamond. Remember when Bill said there was a big community building up out there?"

"Wow. Yes, that makes sense. Do you think we'll be safe there? Bill could have been lying about that you know. We might be better off staying here. We haven't had any real trouble yet have we?"

"No we haven't. But if this crowd keeps building, there won't be enough resources to go around even if they're friendly. I think we need to consider an escape plan."

"You're right I suppose, but can we wait a few more days for the others to come home?"

"Absolutely. We just have to be ready for anything, that's all. There is one other thing I need to do, though."

"What's that?" asked Sally.

"I need to go down to the fence and speak to those people."

-

Montana was being marched through the corridors by Scarface and two armed guards, on her way to see the boys for perhaps the last time. Balled up in her hand was the note she had written the night before. She knew that it was getting damp from her sweaty palms, but there was nothing she could do about that. She needed Matt or Dylan to read the note for the plan to succeed, but there was a huge risk involved in getting it to them. If Scarface caught her, her punishment would be swift and merciless, and the boys would die. The plan she had devised was clumsy and unlikely to succeed, but it was the only thing she had been able to come up with. As she went over each part of the scheme in her mind, she could only see ways it could fail, but despite that, she knew there was no option but to try and carry it through. She did have one slight advantage, though, and that was the likelihood that The Doctor and his legion of marauders would underestimate her. Their complacency about their own strength and power might just become the instrument of their downfall.

The guard in front of Montana stopped at a large steel door, which she recognised as the the school's computer room. It was a perfect prison - the bars on the windows and the door would stop all but the most determined burglars. Inwardly, she smiled - this fitted in with her plan perfectly. Scarface took Montana by the arm as the guard opened the door.

"I'll give you three minutes with your friends and the door will stay open. If you or anybody in that room tries anything, you will all be shot. Is that clear?"

"Yes. That's clear."

As one guard inserted his key into the lock, the second trained his gun at the door. Montana hoped that Matt or Dylan wouldn't attempt anything foolish when the door opened, because they would certainly be killed. As the big door creaked open, Montana was almost beside herself with fear. She knew that getting the note into the hand of one the boys would be a critical moment in the execution of her scheme. If The Doctor or one of the guards caught her, it would be over immediately, and they would never leave the school alive.

The guards stepped into the room with their guns raised and ordered the prisoners to their feet. A nod to The Doctor indicated that everything was in order, and that Montana could now enter room.

"Remember," said The Doctor. "Three minutes, and the guards will be watching."

She nodded and entered the room. Matt and Dylan saw her, and rushed over and hugged her, as the guards watched. She clung to the boys fiercely, the note nestled safely in her clenched fist.

"Oh my god, I'm so scared," she whispered as they embraced. "I didn't know if I'd see you again. Are you okay?"

"We're okay for now, how are you?" asked Matt. "Are they mistreating you? I'll kill them if they are!"

"No, settle down. I'm okay."

She broke away from the embrace and looked at the boys. Dark rings under their eyes suggested that they hadn't slept very well last night and Matt had an ugly purple bruise on the side of his face.

"Those bastards!" she exclaimed, as her left hand gently stroked his cheek, as her right hand moved down to grasp Matt's left hand.

This was the moment that would count. If Matt's face gave anything away as she passed the note to him, she would be taken away, and the opportunity would be gone. She forced open his fingers as she continued their conversation, and tried to force the balled-up piece of his paper into his palm secretly. At first Matt just grabbed Montana's hand and she almost dropped the note to the floor, but then she saw the expression on his face change ever so slightly, as he understood what was happening. She felt him take the note.

"Time's up," one of the guards announced, to Montana's surprise.

"That wasn't three minutes!" she protested, turning to The Doctor, who was smiling cruelly at the three friends.

"Time's up," he confirmed, turning to the guards. "Get her out of here."

-

After Montana had been dragged from the room, the five other captives, returned sullenly to their spots on the floor as Matt and Dylan stared at each other.

"What was that about?" Dylan asked. "How did she get him to allow a visit?"

"I don't know, but she passed me this," he said, holding out the tightly folded note in his hand, as if it were a fragile butterfly.

Dylan immediately forced Matt's hand closed and led him as far from the other prisoners as he could.

"Shit Matt!" he whispered, "Let's just keep this to ourselves until we know what it says. Knowledge is power. I don't trust anyone in here."

Matt looked over at the five people slumped against the wall. To him they looked as if they were already dead. He couldn't imagine how they could be a threat, but he took Dylan's advice anyway and stuffed the note into his pocket, planning to read it later, when it would be less obvious. He walked over to the window and peered through the bars at the football field that had already reverted to an overgrown meadow. What was in the note? Was it one last declaration of love from Montana, or did it hold information that they could use to save themselves? Later when the time was right, he would read it and find out.

-

For Montana, the rest of the day was spent in the company of The Doctor, who was relishing the chance to crow about his achievements and authority. He gave her a guided tour of the town in a limousine chauffeured by one of his henchman, under escort by another armed guard on a motorcycle. As they rolled imperiously through the streets of her hometown, The Doctor was happy to answer most questions, taking a perverse pride in the changes that had occurred since the event.

"Where are all the dead bodies?" asked Montana, at one point in the tour.

"I had teams take them out of town in trucks and burn them. No point surviving the feeders only to be brought undone by pestilence, is there?" he offered.

Another time, Montana noticed two cars full of survivors, driving slowly through the town as they headed west. She could see the faces of the travellers as they peered incredulously at the limo. It was obvious, too, from their expressions that they sensed something very wrong in Carswell, and desired to keep moving. Montana was puzzled.

"Why do you let some through and not others?" she asked.

"That's an excellent question, Montana, but it's difficult to answer. I'll try though. Firstly, today is Sunday. We don't take prisoners on Sunday. Why? I don't really know. Maybe it's just a nod to our civilised past - a day of rest, if you like. The main reason we allow survivors through, though, is because I believe we'll be catching up with them soon enough and it will make for more witnesses when we find the girl and destroy her. I don't know if you've noticed, but my little army are getting quite impatient with all this waiting, and are very keen to begin the battle. It's like an energy that's building inside them. We have the numbers, so it's just a matter now of waiting for the psychs to choose the right day. It won't be long, that's for sure. Once the girl's out of the picture, the darker forces will be able to gather in numbers, and the world can be reborn. It's very exciting, wouldn't you say?"

Montana stared blankly out of the window. "Very exciting," she muttered bleakly.

-

It was almost an hour after Montana's visit when Matt and Dylan had an opportunity to read the note in private. The other captors were all dozing on the floor, so Matt crept over to Dylan and sat down beside him on the filthy carpet. He took the note out of his pocket and unfolded it as if it was the word of God itself. He flattened the piece of paper out on his thigh so that he and Dylan could read together. When they'd finished, Matt ripped it up and took it over to one of the buckets that they had been using as toilets and dropped the pieces in. He returned and slumped down on the floor next to Dylan. He looked as his friend, with a face full of sorrow.

"It's a suicide mission," he stated, as his eyes filled with tears.
Chapter 77

Forging Bonds

Bonnie tucked her pistol into the waistband at the back of her jeans. "Stay by the window with the shotgun, but don't come outside if you can help it. I don't expect any trouble, but you never know right?"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Sally. "What if something goes wrong? What will I do?"

"I don't think anything will go wrong otherwise I wouldn't be doing this. I need to know what these people are thinking; what their mood is. Gabby's watching "Monsters Inc." in Matt's room. She'll be fine for a while. I'll try not to be too long, okay?"

"Please be careful."

"I always am."

Sally took up a position in the window as Bonnie opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch. Within a few seconds every person in the crowd beyond the fence had their eyes trained on her as she walked slowly down the path toward them. Sally thought they looked like Easter Island statues, as they stared, waiting for Bonnie to reach the gate. It was impossible to judge the mood of the crowd from Sally's position inside the house. Would they simply speak to Bonnie and allow her to come back inside, or would they attempt to somehow overpower her and storm the farm so they could get to Gabby? Sally felt absolutely powerless as Bonnie stopped a couple of metres from the fence. She turned back towards the house. Sally gave her a little wave through the window.

Bonnie felt the gun pressing into the small of her back and wondered if arming herself had been a mistake. She didn't know anything about the temperament of this mob, and was concerned that if the gun were spotted it might only complicate matters. It was certainly odd how everyone was just standing staring at her, but when Bonnie smiled and offered the gathering a 'hello', a woman dressed in faded jeans and a pale blue, puffy parka came forward to speak.

"Hello," the woman said gently, as if embarrassed somehow.

"My name's Bonnie."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Jean."

"Hi Jean," Bonnie said, before turning to the rest of the crowd, who had all inched a little closer. "Hi everyone. I'm Bonnie."

"Hi Bonnie," most of the crowd responded, somewhat sheepishly, as Bonnie turned her attention back to the woman in the blue parka.

"Jean, we need to talk."

"Oh, yes! Of course," she answered, smiling at Bonnie eagerly. "You must be wondering why we're here."

"Um, not really. I'm guessing you're all here because of my daughter?"

Jean turned and nodded to the crowd behind her, before returning her attention to Bonnie.

"Yes, of course. A mother would know these things, wouldn't she? Yes, Bonnie, we have come because of your daughter. Umm, would you mind telling us her name?"

"Sure, I guess so. Her name is Gabby. Gabrielle really, but we call her Gabby."

"Oh, that's lovely."

People in the crowd nodded and smiled as word got around that the girl had a name.

"Jean, listen," Bonnie said, eager to move on now that the small talk was over. "May I ask, what you hope to achieve by being here? What's the point? No bullshit please, okay? Just tell me what brought you here, because, honestly, this is all getting a bit weird."

"Oh Bonnie, I'm sorry. This must be hard for you, but I'll tell you everything I can."

Jean turned to the crowd, "It's okay everyone, Bonnie just wants to know why we came. She's a friend."

The crowd looked awfully pleased about this new information, but inside, Bonnie was fuming. She hadn't said anything about being a friend to these people, but she kept her feelings to herself and waited for Jean's response.

"Bonnie, I can't speak for all of us exactly, but I think everybody here has had a similar experience. Like a lot of others, I had an urge to leave the city. I used to live in the eastern suburbs of Sydney, near the beach. After the event I managed to survive by locking myself in at night and avoiding marauders during the day, but then I started having these dreams that were sort of pushing me to head west. I tried to put it out of my mind, but it got too much. It was as if I was being tugged by a giant cosmic string."

Jean shook her head and gave Bonnie an apologetic look. "I know how stupid that sounds, but that's how I felt. Anyway, the string just kept pulling at me, and eventually I packed a bag and started my journey. After a few days of travelling I teamed up with a couple of other people in the mountains, and we just kept moving west together, not really knowing where we'd end up. My dreams changed too. As I got further from the city, I started dreaming about a girl. It was Gabrielle, obviously. They were beautiful dreams, but menacing at the same time. It was as if I was being promised heaven, but only at a terrible cost. That doesn't really make sense does it? But it's the only way I can describe it. When we reached Millfield, I felt that I had to stop. The journey was over for me. My travelling companions were different, though; they wanted to keep heading west. They hadn't been having the dreams about Gabrielle. I think that was the main reason they didn't stop here, like I did. Their cosmic string was pulling them somewhere else."

Bonnie considered the woman's story. It certainly fit with everything else that had happened around Gabby so far, but she needed to know more. "Tell me Jean, now that you're here, how do you feel?"

"That's the great part," said the woman, smiling beatifically at Bonnie. "I feel so happy to be near her - Gabby, I mean. It's like love, but even stronger than that."

She turned and motioned towards the people behind her. "We're ready to die if we have to, to protect the girl."

"Protect her from what?" asked Bonnie. "The feeders?"

"Perhaps, although the feeders seem to fear her at the moment. That's why we've been safe here at night. No, we're not sure what the threat will be, just that it will be unexpected, and a great challenge. We believe we've been called here to help protect Gabrielle. We've all brought weapons. If we can keep her alive, we believe she is our hope for the future."

"Can you protect her?"

"I don't know, but if we can't, then the world will plunge into dark times - even darker than it is now. If we can keep the special ones like Gabby alive, then we might be led out of the wilderness."

Bonnie was shocked.

"What do you mean? Special ones? Do you mean Gabby isn't the only person with these gifts, these powers?"

Jean gazed earnestly at Bonnie. "We can only hope."

-

Montana lay on the double bed in The Doctor's apartment and pretended to sleep. Her plan relied on The Doctor either leaving the room, or falling into a drunken slumber on the couch, but so far neither of those things had happened, and it was getting later and later. Montana had calculated that the best time to execute her plan would be around three in the morning, reasoning that most of the marauders would be asleep by then, and there would be less chance of encountering one of them in the hallway. As she lay silently on the bed, however, she was starting to become nervous, because tonight would be her only opportunity to make this bid for freedom work. Tomorrow night the boys would face the feeders, and they would be killed. For the past few hours The Doctor had been pacing around the apartment doing God knew what, but about ten minutes ago his footsteps had ceased and there had been silence. She decided to take a chance, and rolled over, away from the wall, to try to see what The Doctor was up to. She turned, as if still asleep, and waited a couple of minutes before she dared to peek through one slightly opened eye.

To Montana's relief, The Doctor lay comatose on the couch, with a half empty tumbler of scotch still clutched in his right hand.

"Thank God!" she thought, as she climbed quietly off the bed.

She tiptoed over to the kitchen alcove and picked up the chef's knife she had seen earlier, and then padded back and stood beside The Doctor. She knew that she should kill him now, while he was vulnerable, to give her plan the best chance of succeeding. As she stood over him, though, watching his chest rise and fall, the reality of simply plunging the knife through into him was not as straightforward as she had expected. She tried to justify the decision, by thinking about the lives that might be saved if this psychopath was eliminated right now, but she just couldn't bring herself to commit the final, ruthless act - it was just too clinical. And besides, if her plan worked, The Doctor would be dead by the morning anyway. Instead, she went to the door that led to the corridor and knelt down on all fours. She peered under the closed door to see if the guard was still in his usual position opposite but couldn't see a pair of feet where they should have been. Where was he? She could see bottoms of the chair's legs, but the guard was not at his post. Montana realised that she'd been granted an amazing piece of luck. Her original plan, to sweet-talk the guard into letting her go to the toilet alone (which she always considered a long shot) was unnecessary. If she acted quickly, she might just get to her destination without encountering a single marauder.

She put her shoes on and went to the table where The Doctor kept his personal junk. She grabbed the large ring of keys and stuffed it into her pocket, before sliding the knife into her belt. She walked back to the door, and crouched down once more to make sure that the guard had not returned. He hadn't. Montana didn't know if he had left for the night or was simply on a toilet break, but she knew that it was time to move. She turned the handle of the door, and peeked up and down the corridor. Nobody was in sight and the only sound she could hear was that of The Doctor snoring noisily behind her. She pulled the door almost closed, hoping that a returning guard wouldn't notice anything unusual, and then headed towards the dark stairs that led to the ground floor.

Montana knew that marauders were occupying most of the rooms in this building, and even heard snatches of a muffled conversation as she passed by one door, but other than that, she encountered no one. She moved on, as quickly and quietly as she was able, hoping that the late hour and cold conditions might keep everyone inside. She recognised one of the doors she passed as the storeroom she had been incarcerated in earlier, and went to it and turned the handle. The door was unlocked so she opened it and looked inside. It was empty, as she hoped it would be. She left the door slightly ajar and made her way towards the stairs. The storeroom would be a part of her plans for later.

Montana was shivering from the cold as she reached the bottom of the stairwell, but she knew that this would be the least of her problems as she crept to the big double glass doors that led outside. She peered through them. It was ridiculously dark out there! The moon was nothing more than a thin crescent, low in the sky, and there was only the palest overspill of light from a few occupied windows above her. She couldn't see any guards, but then realised that they would already have seen her silhouette in the dimly lit doorway anyway, if they were watching. She unlocked the door and stepped into the night.

The cold air was like a slap across the face, but Montana was relieved to see that nobody else was around. The Doctor and his horde of followers were so caught up in their own sense of superiority; they had become complacent about their power and had never seriously contemplated their own downfall. She fished the bunch of keys from her pocket, and headed to the large double metal gates, that had been the setting for last night's bloodbath. Yet again, Montana was aware that the plan could end right here if none of these keys belonged to the padlock that secured the chain around the gates, but she had ridden her luck so far, so she said a little prayer and began trying the keys in the lock one by one.

She worked her way through each key, glancing anxiously out into the gloom, worried that feeders would emerge from the darkness and attack her before she had a chance to unlock the chain, but so far there was no sign. Montana's knowledge of the feeders' habits suggested that they would eventually latch onto her scent, and appear out of the darkness, but she hoped to have the gate opened before then. She had tried around a dozen keys in the padlock, and so far none had worked, but now, as her fingers got colder, it was becoming difficult for her to even get the key into the lock. She continued to work her way through them, systematically, trying not to hurry herself, but with each key that didn't fit she became more and more despondent and frantic. After around ten minutes of trying keys, she was down to the fourth last, the gates were still locked and her whole body was shaking from the cold. Then, silently, at the end of the street, barely visible in the pale moonlight, the first feeder appeared.

It stood in the middle of the road, with its nose in the air, and looked around for the source of this fresh blood. Montana figured that The Doctor's sacrificial entertainment over the past couple of weeks had trained the creatures to keep returning to this place for an easy meal, so she wasn't totally surprised by the sight of the beast, but it was terrifying nonetheless Once the feeder locked onto her position it would attack and, she would need to flee, but first she needed to unlock the gates. She scrabbled the third last key into her stiff fingers and tried to insert it into the barrel of the padlock. If this one didn't work, she would be out of time. Almost in tears, Montana forced herself to pause for a moment, then tried the last key. It slid into the barrel and she breathed a frantic sigh of relief and glanced up to check on the feeder. It had moved! It was now racing towards her through the dark, with almost supernatural speed. She was almost out of time! She frantically attempted to turn the key in the lock.
Chapter 78

Bedlam

Gabby was tucked up in bed for the night, and Sally and Bonnie stood on the front porch watching the crowd that had doubled in size since morning. The smell of cooking filled the cold night air and the hubbub of many conversations drifted easily towards the house. After the conversation with the woman earlier in the day Bonnie felt somewhat relieved that the people outside the fence - Gabby's followers - had turned out not to be a threat, but now she had a growing sense of unease about the confrontation that she felt was coming from elsewhere. Could this band of everyday people who had congregated at the farm really be any protection against a serious threat?

"What are you thinking?" Sally asked, interrupting Bonnie's thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, I was just thinking that I feel trapped. I really feel like we should be moving."

"West?"

"Probably. Not back to the city, that's for sure."

"Don't you feel better, knowing that we have others for protection now?"

"Do you?" Bonnie asked, as she rubbed her hands together to keep warm.

"Yes, a little," answered Sally. "But I'm not sure how those people would perform in a fight. They look more like campers than soldiers."

"They do don't they? You know something? If it weren't for Matt and the others, I would have suggested we leave the farm days ago. The more time that passes, the more I think I should get Gabby to Diamond Creek. Maybe it's because I can't think of any reasonable alternative, but my intuition is telling me to go there. With or without the others."

Sally looked at Bonnie, her incredulity obvious even in the pale moonlight.

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed. "We need them! What about Dylan and me? I can't just leave my boyfriend behind!"

"Relax, I just said my intuition is telling me to do that. I didn't say I was ready to act on it. I think we can wait a little longer, but not forever. We need to be realistic."

"What about those people out there? They won't just let us leave will they? They'll want Gabby to stay with them."

"I've been thinking about that too, actually."

"And?"

"I think we could take them with us."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Not at all," Bonnie replied, as she turned to Sally and took her by the hand.

"Listen, these people have been brought here for a reason - to protect Gabby. We can't ignore that. If we run from them, they'll just follow us, or another group will spring up in their place. We might as well accept the situation and deal with it. If the others aren't back in the next day or so, I say we rally Gabby's followers and head west to Diamond Creek. There's safety in numbers after all. What do you say?"

"I don't know Bonnie. How can I leave here knowing that our friends are out there somewhere? It seems like we'd be deserting them, giving up! I don't know if I could live with that."

Bonnie pulled Sally towards her and hugged her. "I think we're all finding that there are a lot of crazy things we can live with now."

-

"Wake up!"

"What is it?" asked Matt, sitting up with a start.

"We have to be ready. It could be anytime now."

Matt sat up and could see that some of his fellow prisoners had opened their eyes and were stirring from their sleep. Others were already awake and standing around the room, ready for action.

Earlier that day, after Matt and Dylan had read the note, they decided to share the information with the five other captors, realising that everybody needed to understand what would be happening once Montana's plan was put into action.

"What time do you think it is?" asked a young man, who had just woken up.

"I don't know," Dylan replied. "But I reckon we're getting close to kick off."

"I can't hear anything yet," commented Matt. "Maybe she couldn't get out."

"Well if she didn't, we aren't going anywhere either, so let's just cross our fingers and stay alert."

-

Montana desperately turned the key in the lock as the feeder raced towards her. It didn't budge. She swore loudly as the snarling beast closed in. There would be no time to try another key, so she twisted it hard one more time as a last resort, and almost fainted with relief, as the shaft turned in the barrel, popping the lock open. She removed it from the bulky metal chain and let it drop to the ground, then slid back the large bolt that held the gates together. She took one last glance into the darkness down the road, and could see that other feeders were materialising now, in significant numbers. There wasn't much time! She left the gates closed with the loose chain dangling limply around them, then turned and ran back towards the school. On the first floor someone had opened a window and was yelling at her to stop, but she kept running, focused with absolute clarity on her destination. She sprinted towards the front doors of the school. From behind she heard a loud clank and a metallic rattle as the first feeder hit the gates. She didn't know if it was forceful enough to fling them open or not, but she wasn't about to turn around to find out. She knew that within a few short moments the creatures would reach the gates en masse, and swarm into the school, looking for fresh bodies to feed on. Montana reached the front doors of the school and shoved them open, as marauders frantically screamed from upstairs, "Feeders! Feeders!"

She plunged into the foyer and raced through the corridor towards her salvation. Scores of creatures would be flowing in through the main gates now, and the marauders were emerging from their rooms to protect their domain. When Montana heard the main building's glass doors shatter behind her, she turned and saw the creatures streaming through them towards her. They were only seconds behind her now, but Montana had almost reached her destination. She hysterically pushed open the door to the storeroom that had been her prison only yesterday, and slammed it closed, before engaging the lock, as the feeders thudded heavily against it, just behind her.

-

The seven captives stood motionless, listening, to the sounds of bedlam breaking loose outside.

"My god! She did it!" said one of the female prisoners. "She really fucking did it!"

"Don't get too excited just yet!" Dylan reminded them, moving to the door. "If the next part doesn't work, we might be locked in here forever!"

Screams and gunshots rang out through the corridors outside, while Matt, Dylan and the survivors waited as planned, for their chance to escape this nightmare. Most of the group huddled together and held hands, but Matt and Dylan stood just inside the door, waiting for the signal that would give them their opportunity to strike. Montana's note had told them to expect pandemonium to erupt in the middle of the night, because she was going to try to let the feeders into the school, knowing it would be the only way to overpower the marauders. She also informed the boys that they were locked in one of the only truly secure rooms in the school, and that it might be seen as a refuge for marauders once the carnage began. Matt and Dylan stared at the inside of the metal door, almost willing someone to try to enter from outside, but all they could hear was breaking glass, gunshots and screaming.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" wailed one of the captives. "We're going to be trapped in here!"

Dylan yelled at her to shut up, and just when it seemed like the plan was going to fail, a clattering sound at the door indicated that someone was trying to get into the room. Matt and Dylan took up their positions on either side of the door, as the other captives formed a group of five, not too far behind them.

The marauder plunged into the room and Matt and Dylan leapt onto him and pounded his head with their fists, while the other prisoners rushed to the door and pushed it shut before sliding the latch, locking the door from inside. The marauder tried to fight back, but he had no chance once they all joined in the assault. Finally, the marauder became still, and the prisoners stood back, panting from the exertion and rush of adrenaline that had kicked in. For a moment, nobody was sure if the man on the floor was dead or not, but a prod from Dylan's boot drew a low moan from the victim, indicating that he would probably live. One of the men who had helped to subdue the marauder looked to Dylan. "What now?"

"We wait. As soon as it gets light outside, we find Montana, then get to the nearest vehicles we can find and get the fuck out of here."

"What about the marauders?" the man asked.

"We'll have to wait until morning to find out. With any luck, the feeders will kill them all. It sounds like a bloodbath out there."

They paused and listened as the screams continued, punctuated now and then by the occasional blast of a weapon.

"Do less gunshots mean there are less feeders to shoot, or less marauders to do the shooting?" asked one of the women.

"Good question," Dylan replied, as another bloodcurdling scream ripped through the night.

-

Montana shivered in the corner of the dark storeroom, as she listened to the sounds of battle raging outside. She would have no idea if her plan was a success until the sun rose in a few hours, but at least she had given herself a slim chance of survival. She hoped that the boys would somehow manage to get through the night, and she would find them in the morning, but until then, all she could do was wait. She also thought about The Doctor and whether his cronies would have gone to his aide as soon as the alarm went up. Probably not, she thought. These mindless psychopaths would be thinking only of themselves once everything went to shit, and The Doctor would be left to fend for himself. He would stand no chance, surely. Montana curled up on the floor and tried to keep warm as another gunshot blasted just outside the door.
Chapter 79

Release

Dylan put his ear against the cold steel. "I can't hear a thing."

"You people have a death warrant now!" threatened the captured marauder, who was sitting on the floor, bound at the ankles by his studded belt.

"Shut up! Nobody said you could speak!" ordered Matt, brandishing the marauder's liberated shotgun.

"You'll all fuckin' die! And the girl!" he countered, defiantly, before falling silent once more, realising there was nothing more to say.

Over the past few hours, the sounds of mayhem had diminished until nothing could be heard outside in the corridors. It was clear that a massacre had taken place last night after Montana had opened the gates, but until they witnessed the scene for themselves, there was no way for the seven survivors to tell which group was hit hardest. The feeders had the element of surprise and almost supernatural strength on their side, but the marauders had a huge stockpile of weapons, which had been hammering away throughout the night as the battle raged. This must have been what it was like for citizens of London during World War 2, thought Matt, when they had to spend the night in air raid shelters, as Nazi bombs pounded the city streets above.

"Wait!" Dylan exclaimed, "Can you hear that?"

Everyone nodded their heads as the engines of motorcycles and cars could be heard starting up somewhere outside.

"That means some survived," offered Matt, with an expression of concern.

"Yes, but they're leaving. That means we can get out of here soon. I'm going to check it out."

Matt glared at the marauder on the floor. "It looks like your friends are deserting you, doesn't it?"

"They'll be back. More will come too. Your kind has no chance. If you had balls you'd shoot me now! If you don't, I'll fucking kill you the first chance I get!"

Dylan was already striding towards the biker. He snatched the shotgun from Matt and jammed the end of the barrel hard into the marauder's mouth, before anybody in the room realised what was happening.

"No!" yelled Matt, as Dylan's finger tightened on the trigger of the weapon.

The marauder stared straight at Dylan, as if daring him to pull the trigger, and for a second the captives thought that Dylan was going to spray the wall of the computer room with the brains of the biker, but Dylan pulled the stock of the weapon out of the man's bloodied mouth and turned back towards the door.

"Pussy!" screamed the demented marauder, before Matt kicked him in the ribs, before joining Dylan at the locked door.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested. "I've had enough."

Dylan was about to unlock the door and check the corridor, when a rattling in the lock indicated that the door was about to be opened from the outside.

"Everybody behind me!" he yelled, as he stepped back and aimed the shotgun at the centre of the door.

"Get down on the floor! If I start shooting, be ready to run!"

They moved behind Dylan and huddled as close together on the floor as they could. Dylan stared down the barrel of the shotgun, ready to shoot, as the lock disengaged and the door slowly swung open. He took a deep breath and tightened his finger on the trigger of his weapon as the figure appeared in the doorframe.

"Montana!" he exclaimed, allowing the gun to fall to his side, before stepping forward to embrace her.

She burst into tears as she fell into Dylan's arms, and within seconds Matt was there too, reunited with the girl he had once rescued, but now loved.

"Now we're even," she sobbed, as the other captives moved silently to the door and peered out into the corridor.

"It's all right," said Montana, through the tears, as she gently pulled away from Matt's grip. "They're gone - all of them. I watched through a window. It's not a pretty sight out there either," she added, as she stepped into the corridor with Matt.

"Oh my god!" cried one of the women, as she surveyed the carnage.

The others stared in disbelief at the gruesome scenes before them. Most of the bodies that were littering the floor were marauders, but there were also feeder corpses scattered here and there, riddled with bullet holes and leaking dark blood onto the vinyl floor.

"Let me out of here!" screamed the biker, as they began to leave the room.

Dylan walked back to the doorway and glared at the man, who had managed to stand, despite his shackled legs.

"Hey, you said your friends would be back, right?"

"So?" the marauder challenged.

"Well, they can let you out when they get here," sneered Dylan. He closed the door and locked it with the key that was still jammed into the keyhole from last night.

"You prick!" screamed the man from behind the door. "I'll fucking kill you!"

"Wow! Harsh!" exclaimed one of the captives, as he stared at Dylan with something like admiration.

"Fuck him," said Dylan, as he turned from the door and joined the rest of the group.

As Montana and Matt led the crew of survivors through the corridors towards the main exit, the story behind last night's horror became clear. After Montana had unlocked the gates, the feeders had swarmed like locusts into the building, looking for fresh bodies to gorge on. It was clear that the initial stages of the battle were a mismatch, as marauders stumbled unwittingly into the corridor only to encounter the creatures' frenzied assaults. As they realised what was happening however, some marauders had managed to grab their weapons and fight back, or find somewhere safe to hide for the night. The ones that hid were probably the ones they heard leaving this morning. As the battle continued, it was obvious that the feeders had begun to dominate. The marauders either fled or were killed, and for the rest of the night, the creatures had been able to feed at their leisure. The evidence of their ruthless consumption was all around. Formerly fearsome bandits, now lay on the floor, their stomach cavities hollowed out by the ravenous packs of pale night dwellers, their lives reduced to nothing more than becoming a very messy link in the food chain.

Matt led the survivors, as they stepped over body parts, blood and gore, to the smashed front doors of the school, which he held open for the others as they exited the school for the last time. They stood around in the empty car park, shivering from the cold, despite the weak sunlight, and looked at each other, waiting for someone to speak. Eventually Matt broke the ice. "What are your plans now?" he asked.

The five survivors looked at him, as if lost for an answer.

"I don't know," replied one, perhaps a little more resilient. "Where do you go when you have no family or home? Or friends?"

They stood in silence, not knowing how this question could be answered.

"Really," he repeated. "I don't know. Where will we go?"

Matt looked over to Dylan, who was shrugging his shoulders, as he walked away to inspect some of the vehicles that had been left behind.

"Well," said Matt, "I guess if I were you guys, I would take a couple of these vehicles, arm yourselves, and head west. That's what you were doing before, right?"

"I guess so," replied the man, who seemed to have become the default leader of this new group. "We weren't travelling together, though."

"But now I think you should. You'll need each other. Gather your friends and go find a couple of cars and get some weapons. Who knows? We might see you again some day?"

"Okay. Thanks," he said, as he turned to his four new partners. "Okay guys! You heard Matt. Let's get moving."

After the weary group trudged off to forage for equipment, Matt turned to Montana. "Wow! That was some plan you came up with last night! You're not just a pretty face."

"Hah! I never was just a pretty face. You just hadn't noticed before."

"Wanna bet?" he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her.

After a few seconds they separated and Montana stepped away. "Oh man! You smell so bad! We need to get you home and into a shower!"

"That sounds excellent," he replied, smiling. "You can give me a good scrubbing."

"Ooh, I've never heard it called that before," she whispered cheekily, as she took his hand and headed over to their car.

-

Half an hour later they were on the road, and heading back to Millfield. They had waved goodbye to the others, and Dylan had found a fully fuelled SUV, while Matt and Montana had collected weapons that were lying around beside the bodies of dead marauders. Matt drove while Dylan rode shotgun, watching for bandits, as Montana lay on the back seat, covered by a blanket, pleased to be warm at last.

"I'll be glad to get home," said Matt, not taking his eyes from the road. "That was insane. What do you think happened to Scarface?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe the feeders got him. Those bodies were pretty badly mutilated."

"Yeah, maybe. But why do I feel like he's still out there somewhere?"

"Maybe because evil has a way of enduring. Whether he's alive or not, his influence will continue to be spread through his followers. If he _is_ dead, someone will sprout up and take his place, and people will follow them. Humans are dumb like that."

"Wow Dylan, I didn't realise you were such a philosopher."

"I wasn't before all this shit. Let's drop it anyway, I just want to get back to the farm."

"Yeah me too. I miss it."

Matt accelerated and they exited the streets of Carswell towards the open road.

"Hey Dylan, how many feeders do you think turned up at the school last night?"

"Gee man, I don't know. Hundreds probably. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering about the bombs we put in the caves. Do you think they made a difference?"

"How do you mean?"

"Did it do any good? Will it have any impact? There seemed to be plenty of feeders left over to attack the marauders last night."

Dylan gave Matt a surprised look. "I don't think those zombies last night were from the caves. It's too far. They must have been camped out near town somewhere."

"So what was the point of blowing up the caves then?"

"Shit man! I don't know! It just felt like we should, you know! What do you want me to say?"

Montana moaned in her sleep from the back seat, as Matt became silent. Dylan's reaction had surprised him. He thought that the expedition to the caves was a strategic plot to win the battle against the feeders, but Dylan was making it sound like yet another personal revenge mission.

"Hey man, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get angry," said Dylan. "I'm just struggling with this whole business, and I miss my daughter so much. Hey, maybe the caves were some kind of breeding grounds. We saw quite a few pregnant females. Maybe our plan was more effective than we think."

"But we can't just keep hunting them surely? There are too many aren't there?"

Dylan stared at the white line on the road as it unfurled beneath them. "Too many to fight like that probably," he agreed.

"How should we fight them then?" asked Matt.

Dylan looked at Matt.

"We'll need an army," he stated emphatically, before returning his gaze to the western horizon.
Chapter 80

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"It's mid morning and they're still not back. I'm trying to function normally for Gabby's sake, but I'm a wreck. The crowd continues to build outside the fence and the road to the farm is starting to resemble a car park. To be honest, I don't know how much longer we can stay here, but I feel a little safer with all those people out there. If marauders attack us, they should at least be slowed down by that mob. I know Bonnie wants to head west as soon as possible, because she thinks we'll be safer in a larger community, but I feel like crying every time I think about leaving the others behind. Deep inside, I think Bonnie believes that Matt, Dylan and Montana are dead, but I just can't bring myself to consider that. They will be back! They will! If Bonnie decides to move Gabby to Diamond Creek, though, what would I do? Should I wait here alone for the others to return, or go with Bonnie and Gabby, and abandon my friends? What a question to have to answer! Bonnie's calling me. I'll be back._

_-_

_Wow. That was amazing! The reason Bonnie called me was because she decided to take Gabby down to meet the people in the crowd. Since this morning, Gabby has been asking to go down and play with some of the kids down there, and Bonnie finally relented - she feels Gabby will end up meeting these people at some point anyway, so she might as well get it over with (or "stop delaying the inevitable", as she put it). We walked down to the gates together, and the whole crowd (kids included) just stopped and stared at Gabby. I got serious goose bumps, and not from the cold either. There was a really freaky silence as we walked towards that crowd, and when we got to the gate, everyone moved a little closer to the fence, but there was no pushing or shoving. People just waited patiently and stared as Bonnie unlocked the gate. Then, when we went through, a sad little girl (she couldn't have been any older than about three) came up to Gabby and asked, "Are you my sister?" Gabby turned around and looked at Bonnie who just shrugged her shoulders. So Gabby went to the little girl and gave her a big hug. It was extraordinary. People were crying. God, I was crying! I don't even know why! It was like they just witnessed a miracle or something. I can't explain it. Then, when Gabby finished hugging the girl, she just went off into the crowd and started hugging everyone! If Bonnie didn't wade in after her and stop her, she would have hugged every single person! No one complained if they didn't get a hug, though. They just seemed ecstatic to be so close to our little angel._

_Then Jean came over (the lady we spoke to yesterday) and thanked Bonnie for bringing Gabby down. She said that Gabby's presence had made everyone's journey worthwhile, and that it would strengthen our resolve when the time came. She also told Bonnie that when the confrontation comes we should stay up at the house and protect Gabby, whatever the cost. I have to admit that just writing this down is scaring me, and I feel an enormous sense of dread hanging over us. Jean promised that Gabby's followers would never submit to the 'dark forces' and would do anything necessary to protect Gabby! These people are willing to die for us! Actually die! I don't understand any of this. I was quite satisfied just living a simple life on the farm, but it seems as if we're going to have to face another horrendous challenge before too long. The people at the fence see themselves as a strong band of soldiers, but what happens if they fail, and the marauders (or feeders or whatever) get through the fence? It would be over for us. I can't fight. We can't protect Gabby on our own! I want the boys and Montana home - that's all._
_Chapter 81_

_A Bad Feeling_

The road out of Carswell was deserted, and there was no sign of marauders or travellers on the road west. Nobody spoke about the carnage that had occurred at the high school, but it was at the forefront of Matt and Dylan's thoughts, as the car began its descent down the mountain. Matt knew that Dylan was right. Whether The Doctor was alive or not was almost irrelevant. Evil would find a way, and while ever there was anarchy, it had every opportunity to thrive. People with malice in their hearts would find each other, and unscrupulous leaders would organise them to fight for their perverted beliefs. It would be the responsibility of good men and women all over the world, thought Matt, to resist. He realised now that individual freedom was an impossible ideal in this new world. After the horrors and cruelty he had witnessed, he knew that his life would never be his own again. Personal ambition needed to be sacrificed for the good of the many. The implications of such thoughts, however, were almost suffocating. He tried to think of more pleasant things, such as home and friends. Montana stirred from her nap in the back seat.

"We'll be back by lunchtime," Matt said.

"I just had the worst dream," she said, stretching and yawning. "It was really vivid."

"Yeah? What was it about?"

"Umm, how far are we from Kate's house?"

"Really?" queried Matt. "You dreamt about Kate?"

"More like a nightmare than a dream, actually. I'm worried about her now."

"Kate?" asked Dylan. "Is that the woman who rescued you guys when her zombie ex-husband attacked you near here?"

"Now there's a sentence I never thought I'd hear in my lifetime," Matt said drily. "But yes. She's the one. Her turnoff is only twenty minutes away."

"Can we stop?" asked Montana.

"Why?" challenged Dylan. "Because you had a bad dream?"

"It was more like a call for help than a dream. It was so real! Matt? Please?"

"Look Dylan, we have plenty of daylight left, and I'd like to make sure Kate's okay. It'll only add an hour to our trip at the most."

"Hey man, you're the boss. Besides, she sounds like a pretty wild woman and I wouldn't mind meeting her. We can spare an hour."

There it was again, thought Matt - that compulsion to do the right thing, even when your heart was telling you to do something else. He pushed his foot harder on the accelerator as the car wound down the mountain. Home would have to wait.

-

At first Matt missed the turnoff to Kate's house because everything had become so overgrown, but after stopping the car and reversing a couple of hundred metres, they found the hidden tracks that marked the old fire trail. He pulled the car off the main road and began the slow climb, through the rainforest, to the top of the hill. Without regular maintenance, the path had deteriorated considerably since they had spent the night at Kate's house a few months ago, and a couple of times Dylan needed to get out and move fallen logs from the track, but at least it was still drivable.

"She hasn't left the house in a while, by the look of this road," Dylan said, as he climbed back into the car, after moving a branch from the road.

"No. I hope that's by choice," said Matt, as Montana leaned over the back of the seat so that she could see the way ahead more clearly.

"We should have come to visit before this," she said. "We promised her."

"Yes, we should have, but it's too late for regrets now. We've been so busy with other things, and leaving the farm at any time is dangerous. I'm sure she'll understand."

"I can't wait to see Elvis. I miss him."

"Yeah, he's a good dog."

After twenty minutes Montana yelled, "Look! There's her house!"

Matt stopped the car as close as he could, and they climbed out eagerly.

"Wait a second," he said. "Why isn't she out here to meet us? She would have heard the car coming up the road, wouldn't she?"

"Definitely," confirmed Dylan, leaning back into the car and pulling out a pistol from the glove compartment.

"Something's wrong," said Montana nervously, as they started walking cautiously towards the house.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and were taking things slowly, when a loud woof from inside the house saw them abandon all instincts for self-preservation and bolt up the wooden stairs and in through the front door, which was standing open. Matt was the first inside, but it was difficult to see anything because all of the blinds were drawn.

"Elvis?" he called.

A deep "woof" was the response from further inside the house, and Matt headed straight for the sound of the dog's distressed bark. He raced down the short hallway to Kate's bedroom, and despite its gloomy interior, he thought he could just make out the shadowy figure of the dog sitting by the bed staring at a figure that was lying on top of the quilt, unmoving in the gloom. Montana and Dylan arrived at the doorway as Matt was moving across to the bed. He knelt down beside Elvis, who was whining now, and could see Kate lying on her back, fully clothed and breathing irregularly.

"Kate!" he whispered, as Dylan pulled the blinds open to let some light into the room.

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Montana, noticing Kate's bloodstained jeans and quilt.

She's alive," Matt said.

"I'll get a bandage," said Dylan, rushing out of the bedroom.

"She's trying to talk!" cried Montana, as she crouched down beside Matt, and began to stroke Kate's forehead.

Kate's voice was little more than a faint murmur. Matt and Montana leaned forward as close as they were able.

"What is it?" asked Matt gently, as Dylan came back into the room with a first aid kit.

Kate opened her eyes and tried to smile. "You never visit," she whispered, through the weakest of smiles.

Dylan had taken a pair of scissors out of the first aid kit, and began cutting off the blood soaked jeans, as Matt and Montana tried to comfort the woman who was dying before their eyes. Matt smiled sadly. "Kate, what happened?"

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, and Matt thought she had passed out, but she opened them again and whispered, "Feeder. Late last night ... a straggler ... Elvis scared ... away." Her eyes closed again.

Matt turned to Dylan. "How's her leg?"

Dylan looked at Matt and shook his head. The flesh on the upper part of Kate's thigh was beyond repair - shredded to pieces by sharp teeth. As they watched, blood pooled quickly in the deeper wounds as it flowed from a damaged artery. The mattress was completely soaked, and there was no way that Kate would survive without a blood transfusion, even if they could stop the bleeding. Dylan wrapped a new bandage around her thigh as firmly as he could, but it was clear that Kate's life was ebbing away as each drop of blood leaked from her frail body. Montana was sobbing as Kate opened her eyes again.

"How's...Gabby?" she murmured.

"Oh, Gabby's good, Kate," replied Matt, holding her frail hand. "She's getting more beautiful every day."

Kate smiled. "Special girl ... but ...they ... want her."

Her eyes closed again. Then, when Matt thought that the woman might have actually passed away, her eyes sprung open, fearful and urgent, "You must take her west! Hurry!"

"Why?" asked Matt.

But this time her eyes had closed forever.

Matt leaned over and listened to her last words, delivered as a final, fragile breath.

-

An hour and a half later, Matt, Dylan and Montana were standing beside Kate's grave with Elvis, as the winter sun shone down, warming their faces. Montana's eyes were red from crying and everybody was slick with sweat from the digging, but they wanted to honour this brave, intelligent woman before heading home. The only sound was the whispering of the leaves in the treetops and the forlorn call of a crow as it passed overhead. They bowed their heads as Matt began to speak.

"Kate saved my life," he said, as Montana sniffled beside him. "She ... um ... she ... was a good person."

He paused, frustrated because he was unable to find the right words - the words that would do her life some kind of justice.

"She had a rich life."

Matt stopped and shook his head, angry with himself because of his inability to communicate his strong feelings for Kate.

"She deserved to have more people here to say goodbye," he stated finally, brushing away tears with a mud-spattered hand. "She deserved better. That's all."

"I loved you Kate," said Montana.

They turned and headed to the car.

-

They were about five kilometres from Millfield, and Montana was driving. Matt stared dejectedly at the road ahead, while Dylan and Elvis got to know each other in the back seat. The excitement of escaping the marauders at Carswell and returning home had been soured by Kate's death, but they knew that Bonnie, Gabby and Sally would be hugely relieved to see them alive. At least they would have time to recuperate from their emotional scars in the peace and quiet of the farm, with only their closest friends to support them. Matt tried to find some solace in that idea as Montana broke his train of thought.

"Hey Matt, what do you think Kate meant when she said to take Gabby west?"

"Who knows? She probably wasn't thinking too clearly."

"Oh. I thought she seemed pretty lucid, actually."

"Oh, really? Do you think it makes sense to leave the farm and head west?"

"I don't know. It just seemed like a warning. Maybe we should consider it."

"Maybe, but I really don't want to leave the farm unless we have to. There are no feeders, it's peaceful, and we have plenty of resources. It's my home."

"Mm. Okay, then."

Montana slowed down, as she approached a burned out bus that was blocking half of the road.

"That wasn't there when we went to the caves."

"No it wasn't," agreed Matt, looking a little concerned.

"Hey, can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure," said Matt, as he and Dylan swung around to watch the blackened shell of the vehicle receding into the distance.

"What did Kate say to you? You know, before she died."

Matt smiled.

"She said life was worth it."

Chapter 82

A Homecoming

"Look at that," said Sally.

"It's remarkable, isn't it?" replied Bonnie. "You wouldn't think anything was wrong."

They were sitting in the sun on the front porch watching Gabby, as she ran and played with a small group of children on the grass in front of the house. Over an hour ago, after Gabby's emotional meeting with her followers, Bonnie had decided to leave the gate open, as a sign of friendship and unity. She wasn't sure how the people outside the fence would respond, but she hoped that it wouldn't turn out to be a poor decision. After a few minutes, however, she knew she had done the right thing. At first, Gabby's followers had simply carried about their normal routine - the children playing games together, while adults hung out washing, prepared food, read, or just chatted to each other. Then, almost apologetically, a boy about Gabby's age, wearing a woollen beanie and clothes that were a little too large for him, stepped tentatively through the open gate, and stood gazing up towards the house. After a couple of minutes, he became confident enough to walk up to the porch where Bonnie was reading to Gabby. He paused at the bottom of the porch stairs and stared at his feet. Then he looked at Bonnie shyly and asked, "Can Gabby come play?"

Gabby looked up at her mother, her face full of hope and anticipation, while Bonnie looked at Sally for advice, but she simply shrugged and smiled. Bonnie looked down at her daughter, and felt a slight tug in her heart as she replied, "Go and play, but stay inside the fence."

"Yay!" yelled Gabby, as she ran down the stairs, taking the boy by the hand as they ran squealing happily towards the pepper tree.

Sally looked over at Bonnie. "Are you crying?" she asked, not entirely understanding her friend's reaction.

Bonnie wiped tears from her eyes as she watched Gabby and the boy running around and around the old tree together, laughing when one of them fell over its gnarled old roots. Her heart was in turmoil because she felt as if she had just given her daughter a beautiful gift, but in doing so had also released a small part of her, to forces that she couldn't control.

"I'm okay," she said, as Sally put her arm around her.

"I don't understand why you're so upset. Gabby looks so happy".

Bonnie looked at Sally. "Yes, but I know that it can't last."

-

It was mid afternoon, and Sally and Bonnie were working together in the vegetable garden, while Gabby kicked a football around with the other children. Bonnie was trying not to be overly protective, but every few minutes or so she stopped planting and glanced up secretly to make sure that Gabby was okay.

"She's fine," laughed Sally, as Bonnie snuck yet another peek at her daughter.

"Oh God, I can't help it. You'll understand one day when you're a mother!"

"No thank you. I wasn't keen on the idea before the event. Now there's no way I'd ever bring a baby into this world."

"Fair point," said Bonnie, as she poured a row of corn seeds into the furrow she'd just created.

"Would you have another child?" asked Sally. "I mean, if you met the right man."

"My philosophy is to never rule anything out," she answered cryptically, as she raked damp brown soil over her seeds and stamped it down with her foot. "It makes life more interesting."

Then, without warning, Gabby screamed from across the yard. Bonnie stopped what she was doing and started to run in a blind panic, but when she saw Gabby's face, she realised that it simply been a scream of joy. The little girl was racing down the path as fast as her legs would take her. Elvis galloped through the gate and jumped on the little girl, who fell to the ground laughing as the dog licked her face and wagged his tail furiously. Sally joined Bonnie in the unexpected reunion, and they hugged Elvis together, as people watched curiously from outside the fence.

"Where's Kate?" Sally asked, looking around in anticipation.

"I don't know," Bonnie answered, as Matt, Dylan and Montana came striding through the crowd, towards them.

"Oh my God!" Sally exclaimed, as she ran down the path to her friends, before throwing her arms around Dylan.

"What happened?" she asked, through tears of joy.

"It's a long story, and we'll tell you later," he replied. "More to the point, though, where the hell did these people come from?"

"It's a long story," she said, laughing. "We'll tell you about it later!"

Bonnie had joined Matt and Montana just inside the gate, as Gabby rolled around on the grass with Elvis.

"Well hello, you guys!" she said, warmly hugging each of them in turn. "We were really worried about you. Where have you been?"

"Trouble with marauders in Carswell. I'll fill you in later," he replied, as he turned and pointed at the crowd, "What's going on here? What's happened to my farm?"

"Let's go inside and get you something to eat. I'll tell you after you've had a chance to clean up a bit. Is Kate with you?"

Matt and Montana looked at each other, and Bonnie realised immediately that something was wrong.

"No," said Matt. "She was attacked by a feeder. She didn't make it. We buried her this morning."

-

Matt, Dylan and Montana ate as if it was to be their last meal. While they had been showering and changing out of their filthy clothes, Bonnie, Sally and Gabby loaded the table with mounds of food, knowing that their friends would be famished. Then they watched with amazement as bowl after bowl of leftovers were demolished, along with sandwiches, cakes and fruit, all washed down with juice or cups of tea.

"When was the last time you guys had something to eat?" asked Sally, sitting happily beside Dylan, with her hand on his knee.

"I'm not sure," he mumbled through a mouthful of meatballs. "But it seems like forever ago."

As the feeding frenzy died down, and plates were pushed away from bulging bellies, the questions started and the conversation jumped around from one topic to another as the incidents from the last few days were relived - stories of being trapped in caves by feeders, captured by marauders, and the deadly game that had been witnessed by Montana at the school. Matt told them about Kate's death, and they became quiet shed tears, especially when Montana shared her guilt about the fact that they had not been to visit her. Bonnie and Sally, too, had their stories to tell and when they had finished trying to explain the presence of the group outside the fence, the others had questions of their own - "Would the threat be from marauders or feeders?" and "How many more people will come?" and "Can they fight?" and "Can we trust them?"

The biggest question, however, was the one that nobody really wanted to raise. Its answer was unknown and full of menace, so it remained unspoken as the other topics were analysed in minute detail, until the threads of those conversations became exhausted. Unsurprisingly, it was Bonnie who finally breeched the topic, and once she did, it was as if a dam had burst, the implications of the question, cascading forth, powerful and frightening in equal measure.

"Do you think we should consider heading west?" she asked, and for a moment everyone was silent.

All eyes turned to Matt. Everybody at the table knew that Matt lived for 'Two Hills'. It was where he was born, and he had made it clear that he intended to stay. It was a direct link to his parents, and by living and working on the farm, he was honouring their memory.

"You know I can't leave," he said flatly. "Everything I need is here."

"What about the warnings?" asked Bonnie. "Those people out there are expecting some kind of major attack on Gabby. They've come here to protect her."

"I don't know," he replied. "These visions that people are having aren't always accurate, are they? Gabby said someone wasn't coming back from our trip to the caves, but we all survived, right?"

"Kate didn't come home with us," Montana reminded him, gently.

"Oh come on!" Matt argued. "Gabby said that one of _us_ wouldn't come home! She wasn't talking about Kate!"

"She didn't specify," Bonnie responded. "She just said that _someone_ wasn't coming home. I think she turned out to be correct, don't you?"

"This is ridiculous!" Matt exclaimed. "Nobody knows for sure that we're going to be attacked, and I'm quite happy to stay here in Millfield, where I have a home and I feel safe. I don't know why those people have turned up at my farm, or how the word got around, but they don't belong here and tomorrow I'm going to tell them they're trespassing and ask them to leave. This is my farm, not theirs!"

Matt stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the screen door behind him.

Bonnie spoke up. "Listen guys, I don't care what Matt says, but something's going down soon, and we need to be prepared. I don't know what you all want to do, but if I have to, I'll take Gabby to Diamond Creek by myself."

-

Matt was in the big shed, polishing a motorbike, when Sally found him a short while later. He didn't acknowledge her presence when she entered; instead, he just concentrated on repeating uniform, circular motions with the cloth, over and over again, making sure that the chrome gleamed like new. Sally walked over and sat on an upturned milk crate and watched him. She knew that Matt was struggling with this new world order more than anyone. Even Dylan seemed to be coping better, and he had witnessed the horrific death of his own daughter at the hands of her feeder mother.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He continued to polish the bike's engine cover. "I'm fine," he said. "Did Bonnie send you?"

"No, Bonnie didn't send me. I was worried about you."

"Oh."

He carefully hung the rag over the handlebars and threw his leg over the bike, settling himself into its worn leather seat. He gripped the throttle with one hand. "This was dad's bike," he said wistfully, almost to himself. "I used to go everywhere with him on the back of this."

"That must have been nice."

He looked up at Sally, considering her, as if seeing her for the first time. "Yeah, it was nice."

"It must have been difficult for you. You know ... when he came back."

Matt lowered his head and nodded. "That's why I can't leave. I just can't! His body is still here, for god's sake! I can't run away. I don't want to."

"What about the rest of us? What about Montana?"

"What do you mean?"

"We all love you Matt, but if things get really dangerous around here, don't you think we'll need to get away? To be honest, I think Bonnie's almost ready to leave now. Aren't we more important than the farm? The people who love you? We're alive, after all."

Matt looked at Sally, as if he were weighing something up in his mind. "I guess. I mean, of course you are, but I just thought we could stay here forever. I didn't think I'd ever have to choose between the farm and my friends."

"Well maybe..."

Then, as Sally was about to speak, all hell broke loose outside the gates.

"Feeders! Feeders!" came the cries, as people screamed and the sound of gunshots rang out, rupturing the peace of the early evening. Matt ran to the house to grab his shotgun, as Sally raced out of the shed behind him, trying to keep up.
Chapter 83

The Battle Begins

Matt reached the kitchen as Dylan and Montana emerged from the bedroom with their weapons. Bonnie was standing by the table gripping a pistol, while the other hand was clamped protectively around Gabby, who had her head buried in her mother's torso.

"Are you ready?" asked Dylan, as the sounds of gunfire and screaming continued outside the window.

"Let's go!" screamed Matt, as he grabbed his gun and yelled back to Sally. "Stay here with Bonnie and protect Gabby. Arm yourself and lock the doors! We'll be back!"

Matt, Dylan and Montana raced through the front door and down the path to the fence. The followers had established a rudimentary line of defense and the night was suddenly alive with the cacophony of gunfire as the feeders emerged, like crazed white ghosts, out of the darkness. The followers had been taken by surprise, and were putting up a good fight, but for each feeder that was struck down, another would materialise out of the darkness and advance just as ferociously. Matt found a spot in the line and joined the fray. To his right was a young woman he'd never seen before, releasing short bursts of fire from some kind of automatic weapon. Her face was set like stone as she aimed and fired with alarming efficiency. Encouraged by her success, Matt stood by her side, aimed his weapon, and pulled the trigger, sending one feeder to its death. Almost immediately, another took its place and again Matt fired, putting the creature down. Dylan and Montana had by now also taken up positions nearby, and were letting loose round after round of shells, but still the creatures attacked, despite suffering numerous casualties.

"Too many!" screamed Matt, over the din, as his weapon ran out of ammunition.

"Keep shooting! They're all coming from the same direction!" roared Dylan, as a feeder's head exploded just metres away, before collapsing to the ground dead.

As Matt reloaded, he analysed the situation, while Montana let loose a spray of sub-machine gun bullets at two nearby feeders. Dylan was right! The feeders were attacking in one column from the direction of the road! They had no strategy and were not attacking from the flanks at all, but still their sheer numbers were proving too much for the makeshift army. Even if the ammunition held out and the tactics of the creatures didn't change, Matt didn't think it would be possible to outlast the beasts and survive this battle. With his weapon reloaded, he looked down the road at the oncoming horde and drew a bead on the nearest feeder. He pulled the trigger, and a large red bloom appeared on the creature's chest, as it cartwheeled into the weeds. Another feeder appeared in its place, Matt aimed, and it too was dispatched in a bloody heap.

"This is hopeless!" he screamed, sensing the futility of their fight.

"We have no choice, do we?" cried Dylan, "Just keep shooting!"

Suddenly, there was another shooter at Matt's side, picking off feeders with a pistol. "Matt! You need to get her out of her while you can!" came the female voice, close to his ear.

Matt glanced around. It was Jean, the woman Bonnie had pointed out earlier as the unofficial spokesperson for the group.

"Did you hear me!" she repeated. "For god's sake, get Gabby out of here!"

"What are you talking about?" he roared over the unceasing gunfire. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere! Away! We may not hang on here! There are too many!"

He stopped shooting for a second and looked at the woman. The terror in her eyes was absolute. She nodded her head as if to say, "do it", and Matt realised that she was right. All of these people had come to protect Gabby's life, for reasons that he didn't fully comprehend, and Matt suddenly understood that the farm would never be a viable option for survival in the long term - his argument with the others earlier in the afternoon was only ever going to delay the inevitable. The time to move on had arrived. He gave Jean a thumbs-up sign, and scurried over to Dylan's position, as the woman resumed shooting.

Dylan had just cut a feeder in half with a spray of bullets as Matt reached him. "We need to get Gabby out of here!" he screamed in his ear over the barrage of gunfire.

"Where?"

"Back through the hills! There's no other way out!"

"Okay!" Dylan screamed as a particularly robust feeder hit the ground near their feet, riddled with bullet holes.

"Let's go then!" urged Matt. "We can't wait!"

"No! You go! I'm staying to fight!"

"What? You have to come! I need you!"

"No you don't! You'll be fine!" he yelled, as he popped another creature between the eyes. "I'll catch up later! Diamond Creek, right?"

Matt stared at the man who had become his closest friend. Leaving him behind would be like committing him to a death sentence but there was no time for a discussion.

"Okay! I'll see you later!" he said, giving him a thump on the back before moving away. He went straight to Montana's position and was proud to see that she was holding her own in the battle, standing shoulder to shoulder with a middle-aged man who was firing at the advancing creatures as Montana reloaded her weapon.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Never mind that," he screamed above the din, "It's time to go! We have to get Gabby out of here! The others will stay and fight! It will give us a chance to get away through the hills!"

"What are you talking about?" she shrieked, taking aim at another feeder.

"We need to save Gabby! We need to run!"

Montana drew a line of sight with her gun and blasted one of the creatures into oblivion, as the man beside her screamed, "Good girl!"

"Montana! Come on!" bellowed Matt desperately.

"I'm not coming!" she yelled. "They need me here!"

"What?" screamed Matt, before firing his weapon. "Are you serious?"

"Matt, there are children here. I won't leave them!"

She turned and smiled at him, and in a flash he realised that she had made her mind up and nothing he could say would change it.

"Get Gabby and the others, and get out of here," she yelled above the noise of the battle, "We'll be fine!"

Then, before Matt had a chance to argue, a feeder that had somehow managed to dodge the reign of bullets, was through the defensive line of the followers, and racing towards the house. Matt turned and chased. Goodbyes would have to wait.

-

Inside the house, Bonnie filled a large sports bag with as many weapons as she could carry. She took the bag and threw it onto the floor before grabbing the keys to the quad bike from its hook on the wall.

"Stay in the kitchen, honey," she told Gabby. "I need to speak to Sally for a minute."

"Mummy, I want to stay with you! Please!"

"No sweetie, stay here. I won't be long."

Bonnie hugged her daughter, and sat her down under the kitchen table with Elvis, before heading into the lounge room, where Sally was keeping a vigil at the window.

"Is it bad?" Bonnie asked.

"Yes! Of course it is!" replied Sally, frantically. "What if they get through?"

"If they do, we're not hanging around okay? We're getting Gabby out of here. To do that, though, I'm going to have to knock that fence down at the back, just in case. We're never going to get out the front way."

"God! Are you sure? The fence is protecting us!"

"Not any more it isn't. It's got us trapped. I'm going to drive the truck through it. Stay with Gabby - she's in the kitchen with Elvis. If you see a feeder, shoot! I won't be long."

And with that, Bonnie was running back to the kitchen, intent on bringing down the fence that had once been a symbol of their security.

"Stay there!" she yelled at Gabby, as she raced through the kitchen, pulling the door closed behind her, as the gunshots continued to boom through the night like the noise of a thousand drummers.

She ran to the big shed and climbed up into the old truck and grabbed the keys from under the sun visor, before firing up the ignition. The old vehicle rumbled to life in a huge cloud of blue smoke, and when Bonnie flipped on the headlights, and reversed out of the shed, the effect was like something from a third-rate rock concert. She stopped the truck as close as she could to the farmhouse, and shifted into first gear. She hoped desperately that she could get up enough speed to knock the fence down in one go, but if it took multiple attempts, then she was willing to do that. The headlights shone brightly across grass as she revved the engine, dropped the clutch and put her foot on the accelerator. The truck moved slowly at first, but as she shifted up through the gears she picked up speed. She braced for the impact as the truck slammed into the fence.

-

As Sally watched the chaos of the battle outside, she couldn't help but wonder how the feeders were able to tolerate being in the same vicinity as Gabby all of a sudden. They had never been this close to her before. What had changed? Had they become stronger? Or had it just taken all this time to find her. The strong lights that were illuminating the hellish scene outside the fence weren't even acting as a deterrent any more! She watched as feeder after feeder entered the combat zone and wondered how it would be possible to hold them all at bay. It seemed hopeless. Then, as she was about to leave the window to check on Gabby, the pale figure of a feeder burst away from the mayhem, seemingly unnoticed, and began sprinting across the silvery grass towards the house - fast and with an extreme sense of purpose. Sally grabbed her shotgun, and ran to the front door, intent on confronting the creature head on, before blasting it into the next world, but when she opened the door it was nowhere to be seen. Where the hell had it gone? Had they really gotten that fast? She turned and raced back to the kitchen, but only arrived in time to see the creature smash through the back door, before sliding under the table to where Gabby lay curled up, screaming in horror. Everything was moving too fast for Sally now, and before she realised what was happening, the feeder had scooped Gabby up into its powerful, sinewy arms and was heading back out through the door, as Elvis growled furiously and tried to latch onto its legs. Sally raised her weapon and fired at the creature's back, but it was gone into the night before the first bullet hit the wall.

"Nooooo!" she screamed, as she raced to the empty doorway.

Her mind was a torrent of fear, anger and self-loathing as she considered all of the ways she had just failed Gabby, but she ran after the beast anyway, knowing that she had no other choice. Gabby was still screaming, so Sally locked onto that sound and speared into the dark after it, knowing that she was willing to die if that's what it took. She sprinted around the side of the house, and saw the creature running past Matt's father's grave, slowed only a little by Gabby's weight. The shooting continued outside the fence and Sally knew that everybody was so caught up in the battle that they hadn't even noticed the creature running towards the exit with the little girl in its arms. If it reached the gate, it would disappear into the night with the girl and nobody would even notice. She raised her gun, but it was pointless! The shot she would need to make to hit a moving target from this distance was almost impossible, and Gabby was in the firing line anyway. Then, suddenly, just as the creature got closer to the gate, and Sally thought that it was going to succeed in its brazen attempt to steal the girl, a muzzle flash appeared out of nowhere and the feeder stopped in its tracks, teetering, but upright, with Gabby still held to its leathery chest.

Sally ran to where the feeder was standing, as Matt appeared out of the shadows, breathing heavily, his face filled with terror. The top part of the feeder's head had been blown off by Matt's shot, but still the beast stood, determined to hang on to its prize. Sally ran to the feeder as Gabby fainted, while Matt held the barrel of his gun up to what was left of the creature's head. Sally pulled Gabby from the clutches of the beast as Matt pulled the trigger once more, sending pieces of white flesh and bone on a short, lonely journey through the cold night air.

"Is she okay?" he asked, realising that Gabby was not moving.

"Yes, I think she's just fainted."

"Good!" he yelled, glancing over at the followers, who were still engaged in a brutal conflict outside the fence, trying to save the life of Gabby, for a reason that was as fundamental as it was unfathomable. The cause seemed hopeless as bullets ripped into the relentless hordes of advancing feeders, but for the briefest of moments, amongst the confusion, Matt thought he saw Montana's face, looking over in his direction. Then, just as suddenly, she was gone again, lost amongst the commotion of battle.

"It's time to leave!" he roared, turning his back on the struggle.

He grabbed Sally by the arm and they ran together back up to the house and into the kitchen, where they found Bonnie looking frantically for Gabby.

"Oh my god!" she cried, "I thought they had her!"

"No!" said Matt, snatching the keys of his father's motorbike from the hook on the wall. "We have her! Now let's get out of here."
Chapter 84

Extract From Sally's Journal:

_"We stood on the top of the hill and gazed down in silence at the nightmare that was 'Two Hills'. Gunshots boomed out across the night, and flashes of orange in the distance punctuated the dark like grotesque fireworks. Occasionally we could hear a spine-chilling scream above the pandemonium, but they became less frequent as the battle continued._

_When the feeder burst into the kitchen, I thought we'd lost our precious Gabby. The revulsion and terror I felt when that mutated freak took her was almost too much for me to handle. The snarl that I glimpsed as it snatched Gabby away was more devil than animal, and I truly wonder if we will ever be able to defeat these things! If it weren't for Matt's quick thinking, I think Gabby would have been spirited away into the night, and the feeders would have won right then. We certainly would never have seen her again._

_But we did get her back, and knew that we needed to leave the farm as soon as we could. Gabby was just regaining consciousness, so while Bonnie tried to wake her, Matt and I frantically raced around the house as quickly as we could, grabbing warm jackets, and the sports bag that Bonnie had loaded with weapons. Then, when Gabby was fully conscious, we left the house for the last time._

_It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the top paddock - Bonnie was riding the all-terrain vehicle with Gabby latched on from behind with Elvis in the tray. Matt and I rode his father's motorbike that he loved so much. It was a bumpy and slow trip, but eventually we reached the top of the hill safely. No feeders followed us, so we can only assume that the defensive line (which included our Dylan and Montana) was holding its' own down there. Regardless of that, however, we knew we couldn't stay where we were._

_Matt's beloved Angus cattle were huddled together in a paddock nearby, and obviously distressed, so he opened their gate, realising that he would probably never be returning to the farm. "Might as well give them a chance," he said, sadly, as he watched them gallop off into the night in a panic._

_Then we climbed back onto our bikes and made our way slowly down the other side of the hill. As we got closer to the bottom of the valley, and further away from the farm, the sounds of the gunshots became fainter and fainter until they were just a popping sound in the distance. I couldn't stop thinking about Dylan and Montana, still engaged in combat, hoping to make a difference. If I'm honest, I don't expect to see them again._

_The track we had been following was narrow and dangerous - full of potholes, exposed rocks and overhanging branches. It was extremely slow going, so when we reached a small ravine that we couldn't get the bikes across, it wasn't a very difficult decision to ditch them and continue on foot. So we climbed from our bikes, and left them following Matt through the dense bush, hoping that he knew where he was going._

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

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

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

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

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

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

_-_

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

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

_The End_

_About the Author_

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

www.desolationboulevard.net

Cover Design by Mark Holdsworth

