Dead Opportunities: Book 2

A New World Rises

Chapter 2: Relocation

The drive along the Bass Highway only took around half an hour until the bridge to Phillip Island came into view. The roads were deserted, only a few abandoned cars were blocking the road here and there and barely any zombies could be seen given the open and secluded road.

The highway bypassed several towns that dotted through the land and any potential zombie populations were therefore oblivious to their presence.

The trip was quite peaceful. Craig simply eased the Landcruiser along behind the truck ahead, easily driving along at 80 kmph, which was all the truck was comfortable doing. It didn't matter that he could have driven faster. It was a nice drive. He wished he had brought some CD's along to listen to though. Some old school AC/DC or Cold Chisel would have been ideal.

The truck slowed as they reached the mouth of the bridge. Craig could see a large rectangle of wood blocking the bridge about 3 metres in from the bridge's mouth. Pulling in closer, he could see the hinges for a large door. The entire gate structure must have been over 4 metres high. The hand rails and fences on the sides of the bridge had been removed, leaving a sheer drop down to the water below, the wooden gate jutted out over the water by a good metre on each side, making a side step around the gate impossible.

He could see the gate was reinforced with concrete slabs and a large 4wd was parked behind the gate's door, holding it shut, stopping it from swinging inward and open.

Craig watched as John's hand waved from out of the truck's window and someone waved back from atop the large gate. He heard the 4WD start and the gate promptly opened, swinging open and inward like a huge house door.

The truck proceeded through and Craig followed in behind, waving cautiously to the guard sitting on the top of the gate and the driver in the barricade 4WD. In his rear view mirror he saw the gate swing closed and the 4WD reverse back up onto front of the gate, barricading it closed.

The bridge trip was very short and they encountered another gate of an almost identical design at the end. Just as before, they were waved through gingerly. The road weaved ahead, snaking through fields of green grass and bushes that looked overgrown and messy. Numerous houses lined the road, but many looked undisturbed. Holiday houses.

It wasn't long before the little convoy weaved into Cowes, the island's main town. The streets looked much the same as the inner streets of Inverloch. The stores were much the same, though on a smaller scale.

Craig followed and pulled up behind the truck as it stopped outside of a what looked like a council office where some people milled about outside.

He killed the engine and stepped outside as he saw Greg and John step out of their truck and greet a man that stepped forward towards them.

"Michael! We brought back heaps of food and guns and Craig too! He's decided to join us!" John yelled back excitedly.

The man turned to Craig after shaking John's hand with a smile and walked towards him, the small gathering of less than ten other people eyed Craig with a mixture of excitement and caution.

Craig stepped forward and smiled back at Michael, sizing him up. He was a relatively tall man, thin like John, also with a beard and long hair, a dark shade of dirty brown. He wore a neat pair of jeans and a shirt and jumper, his swagger indicating to Craig he looked like someone who supervised instead of helped.

"Craig." He said warmly. "Good to meet you. Always good to meet another survivor."

Craig extended his hand out, looking for a handshake, wanting to size up his grip to confirm his suspicions about him. "Thanks. Is that a common thing amongst you guys? You all say that."

Michael gripped Crag's hand, but Craig smirked as he felt Michael's grip found wanting, a little soft, but gripped harder in response to Craig's firm shake.

Craig decided immediately he didn't like this man.

Michael laughed a little nervously and released his hand, Craig maintained his grip on it for an instant before he let go. "Well, it's true isn't it? We gotta stick together. Welcome to Phillip Island, mate. I'm Michael, unofficial leader of this place."

"Unofficial, huh? Why's that?" Craig replied, the sarcasm a little obvious.

Michael smiled uncomfortably, "Well, we haven't had any official vote or some such, but we're surviving OK."

Greg broke the tension, "Hey, c'mon let's unload the truck. We brought back heaps of stuff!"

Craig stepped by Michael who seemed stuck where he stood. The surrounding people, a mixture of men and women and one small child, a girl, oohed and aahed as they loaded the many cans and boxes back into the trolleys. Craig went back to his 4WD to grab his guns and made sure to sling the MP5 machine gun over his shoulder, showing it prominently as he stepped back out into view. He noted Michael give him a cold look and walk away, back inside the council offices.

Most of the little crowd seemed to retreat away from Craig, uneasy and awestruck at the weapon strapped around him, John, however, was bursting with excitement.

"Jesus Christ, mate. Look at that monster. Never seen one of those before!"

"What exactly have you got, mate?" Greg asked, eying the two sports bags Craig carried with him.

Craig smirked as he replied. "Three 9mm pistols, over 800 rounds for them. The machine gun's got about 300 rounds and I've also got a rifle with 200 rounds."

Everyone was shocked.

"Jesus Christ! You're a one man army!" John squealed.

"Why? What have you guys got?" Craig asked, a little puzzled.

"Fuck, mate. This little pistol I've got and two others for the bridge guards is about all we have." Greg laughed as he held up the pistol from out of his pocket. "Only got 20 or so rounds left. Mate, you are a godsend." He smiled heartily, slapping Craig on the arm.

Craig smiled and then laughed as a thought struck him. This was the second time someone named Greg called him a godsend.

However, this time, Craig was not planning to kill him.

oooo00oooo

Later during the day, Greg and John proclaimed that there should be a party, in order to celebrate Craig's arrival and welcome him to town.

Craig was introduced to Nico, a middle aged native of the island, but with Dutch lineage, who offered to slaughter a sheep and cook it on a spit for dinner that night. His wife, Mari, a naturalized Russian, offered to cook up the vegetables and side dishes. She was a large woman, with her ample size and gruff demeanour, she looked very much the part of a cook used to preparing good food in bulk for family and friends.

Greg and Craig loaded up a trolley with assorted beer, wine and spirits.

The dinner was held in a local restaurant, near the tourist complex for the penguins on the south of the island. Everyone except two, who were on guard duty, attended and were eager to meet Craig.

The population was an almost exact mix of male and female, and included a couple of small families. They accounted for the three children, a girl aged four Craig recognized for when he first arrived, and two brothers aged 9 and 14.

Craig was guided by Greg and John as they introduced him to the various people as the wine and cold beer flowed and music pumped. It was as though the zombie plague was forgotten and people just enjoyed a good party. They all greeted him warmly, the men shaking his hand firmly and the women either giving him a quick and polite peck on the cheek or a handshake. The little four year-old gave him a little curtsey in her little pink dress, her brown curls bobbing as she shyly retreated behind her mother's leg.

He greeted them all back just as warmly, glad to be around so many nice people.

However, Craig was a little stunned as he was introduced to a relatively attractive woman named Sarah, curvy and voluptuous with long curling brown hair. Her bust was almost bursting out through her low cut top, no doubt a push-up bra employed to assist.

"Hello, Craig." She purred. "Everyone's been telling me how much of a superstar you are. I wanted to meet you."

"I'm no superstar." He blushed, gripping the cold beer in his hands and eyeing her bulging cleavage. "Just a survivor looking for some nice people to…. uh…. shack up with."

Sarah grinned and tapped her glass of wine against Craig's beer, "Well darling. Good to have you…. shacking up with us. I'll catch you later."

He watched her wiggle away and walk over to someone.

Craig gripped his beer tightly as he saw her drape her arm around Michael as he chatted to someone Craig met before, but whose name he couldn't remember. She smiled back at him mischievously, flashing her eyes as she planted a kiss on Michael's cheek.

Craig flinched as Greg appeared next to him, "Watch yourself, Craig. She's a slut. She's only with Michael because he's the self-proclaimed leader."

"You obviously don't like her then?"

"Useless bitch is only good for a root, mate. Nothing more. She only arrived a week ago. Just watch yourself. She's a tricky slut."

"Uh… right." Craig replied, slightly confused. "Why? What's she done?"

Greg fiddled with one of the nails on his fingers, chewing it absently before he replied, "We'll have a catch up after this party's over. I'll give you the skinny on what's going on, OK?"

"OK."

Greg relaxed, "C'mon, mate. Let's go give Nico a hand in the kitchen. Spit's probably done by now."

Indeed the lamb spit roast was ready, juicy and soft, it was greeted excitedly by the crowd as everyone sat down on a long table and took turns carving off slices. Maria brought in large bowels of vegetables and salads, but everyone mainly had eyes for the roast.

Craig made sure to sit next to Greg, with John next door to him. A young man named Carl sat next to Craig on his other side.

Directly across the table from him were Michael and Sarah. Michael eyed Craig coldly whilst Sarah continued to flirt with him, flashing looks at him when no one was looking. Or so she thought. Greg made sure to keep an eye on her.

Otherwise the festivities proceeded along in earnest. Everyone tucked into their ample meals and poured more red wine. Nico and Maria made sure to keep doggy bags aside for the guards still posted on the front gate, who were missing out on the occasion. Craig enjoyed talking to Greg next to him, learning his history and joking about football.

Greg was a farmer and former tradesman who lived with his wife on a sheep farm up north. Life was a little tough shearing sheep given the low price of wool, so he supplemented his income as best he could doing odd jobs for people, fixing things, building fences, that sort of thing. He was largely responsible for designing and building the bridge gates. Marli, his wife died a year ago of cancer. It was a difficult time for him and it was excruciating to watch her wither and die like she did, but he was comfortable with her death, glad to know her pain was over.

John helped work the farm and had become a good friend since she died. John wasn't the greatest farm hand, but was good for company. He too had experienced the trauma of a death in the family through cancer, his sister over 5 years ago.

Whilst they were both good friends, they had lost many others when the plague erupted. Many other farmers had fled or fallen. Friends and family members lost in the confusion or torn down before them in the street. Greg knew of no other survivors in his area and was glad to find the Phillip Island colony when he did. He found it by chance, figuring that it would be a good place to survive given its relative isolation and bridge entrance.

He was correct.

Many of the other survivors sitting around the table had the same idea, which had almost undoubtedly saved their lives, Greg surmised.

As the plates slowly began to empty and everyone cradled their glasses in their hands, Michael took the opportunity to tap his spoon against his wine glass, prompting everyone to pause for a speech.

Michael rose, his wine glass held casually by his side as Sarah sat clutching her hands between her legs beneath the table.

"We are all gathered here today to celebrate the arrival of Craig. Another survivor who has brought us some very important supplies. We owe him our heartfelt thanks."

Everyone around the table clapped, some cheered, including John.

Michael shushed the applause with a slightly off-balance wave of his hand.

"So in his honour, I would ask everyone to stand and toast with me to formally welcome him."

Everyone promptly stood and raised their glasses. The three children present had to make do with glasses of water.

"Welcome Craig."

"Welcome Craig." Everyone repeated.

Craig hated these sorts of things. He hated doing speeches to people he either didn't like or didn't know. Begrudgingly, he rose and quickly tried to think of something equally polite and diplomatic to say.

"Uh…. I'm rubbish with speeches so I'll keep it a little short. As many of you would know, I was in Inverloch for the passed few months. I was there on my own and it has been a very lonely… uh…. experience. It's very nice to now be staying with such fine people." He promptly sat down before anyone had a chance to ask a question or propose another toast. He was greeted with polite applause.

Greg leaned over, "Nice speech, mate."

Not long after the toast, the families present with children noted the time, after 10pm, and excused themselves to leave. Soon after that, people started filtering away, taking the night with them, whatever they had in mind.

Craig was eager to get away from Michael, who had barely spoken to him the entire night and elbowed Greg in his ribs to go for a walk.

Greg nodded and Craig promptly reached over the table to Michael to give him a parting handshake, "Thanks for the kind words…. friend."

Michael seemingly reluctantly reached up and reciprocated the handshake, conscious of Sarah hugging him around his waist as she cheekily pouted a kiss in Craig's direction. "Likewise." He muttered back.

Craig stared Michael in the eyes, deliberately ignoring Sarah and turned abruptly to leave with Greg. Craig sighed and took in the cold night air, the rush of fresh sea air refreshing from the stuffy environs back inside.

"C'mon, mate. Let's take a walk." Greg offered. Craig nodded and fell in beside him as they walked down towards the shore.

"So what's goin' on? What the deal here?" Craig got things started.

Greg ran his fingers over the stubble in his chin and seemed deep in thought. "I don't like Michael and I don't like Sarah, as you already know, mate. So far, for the entire time I been here, Michael's done fuck all. He doesn't help much. All he does is pretend to oversee the distribution of food."

"So…. why is he leader then?"

"Pfft. Because he says so. Now that we are established here, no one can be bothered challenging him because it doesn't seem like there's really much to do. Just sit here and survive."

"So, what are you thinking?"

"I think you should take over. We could do so much more. We could be sending out trucks to look for more survivors and supplies. Michael thinks we shouldn't risk it. There must be other people out there though. John and I stole that truck and went out to find you without his authority. He objected for fuck's sake! I think he doesn't want anyone new to ruin his set up here."

"Yeah."

"But that brings me to Sarah. Something's wrong with her. I don't trust her, y'know?" Greg fiddled with his ear as he considered his phrasing. "Y'know when you meet someone, you immediately judge them? First impression?"

"Yeah, I use a handshake for that. Michael's a pussy."

"Yeah, too right. Anyway, I think she's hiding something. She's not what she says she is."

"Why? What does she say?"

"A survivor from the city. Killed her family who had turned and came out here alone."

Craig frowned. "There's no way that story flies with me. If she only arrived a week ago, then she's been on her own for months. You can't survive in the city on your own like that. Especially her."

"Fuckin' A. That's what I thought."

Craig mulled over an idea. "Leave it with me, mate. I'll see what I can get out of her. I'll see if she's got a plan or something and pretend to get in on it. We'll bust her open."

'Yeah, mate. Just watch yourself though. She might be a stunner, but I bet she hides a knife under her pillow. Make sure she doesn't cut your dick off, OK?"

Craig chuckled and Greg relaxed and laughed too. "Alright, mate. I'll be careful."