The Lost Journal Part 2 (A Secret Apocalypse Story) (2 page)

That was my
only goal.

And I think
I accomplished that.

I found
Rebecca. I warned her. She got out of the city before it was too late.

Job done.

So how did I
end up here? How did I end up trapped in the city with Jack and Maria?

To be
honest, I’m not entirely sure.

Maybe it was
pure luck.

Maybe it was
fate.

Maybe it was
Jack’s strength.

Maria’s
strength.

They’re
asleep now. It’s a deep sleep that can only be brought on by absolute
exhaustion. They are sleeping in each other’s arms. A tight embrace. A lover’s
embrace.

I look out
over the dark Sydney skyline. I can see the skeleton of the Sydney Harbor Bridge.
Smoke that is darker than the silvery moon light billows up to the starry
heavens. Orange spot fires that are the devil’s eyes populate the city. Looking
at me. Watching.

I scribble
in this notepad.

It gives me
strength

Feb 8th - Darling Harbor

Two days ago I was stranded and trapped and surrounded and alone in Darling
Harbor. The harbor was a picture of chaos. It was the definition of chaos. And
I kept telling myself I did the right thing.

"I did the
right thing."

Staying
behind on the jetty while Jack, Rebecca and Kim made their escape in the speed
boat. Providing a suppressive cover fire. This was the right thing to do. The
only thing I could’ve done.

Yeah.

I did the
right thing. They would’ve been killed otherwise. Their boat would’ve been shot
to pieces.

They
would’ve been shot to pieces.

I kept
telling myself I did the right thing. I had to make sure they got away clean.

"I did the
right thing."

I mean, what
was the alternative? The pursuing soldiers had the high ground, the numbers,
the fire power. They would’ve been torn to shreds. It would’ve been a
bloodbath.

"I did the
right thing."

Why does
doing the right thing suck most of the time?

And Rebecca.

I couldn’t
get the look on Rebecca’s face out of my mind. Her face. I couldn’t stop
thinking about it. She has never considered herself attractive but goddamn it,
she is. She’s beautiful. She has these big chestnut brown eyes. Wide like
saucers. It’s like she has this constant inquisitive look about her, like she
is always studying everything around her. Taking everything in. Reading you and
your thoughts.

You could
lose yourself in those eyes for hours. Days.

I should
know.

Her lips.
Her smile. They way she played with her hair when she was nervous.

Everything
about her.

All of this.
I can’t get her out of my head. I should’ve been focused on staying alive. I
should’ve been focused on the soldiers closing in on me. I should’ve been
watching out for the infected. But at that moment I was thinking about Rebecca.

A volley of
bullets whizzed over my head and smashed into the wooden jetty I was crouched
on. More bullets smashed into the surrounding boats. All of the boats were
completely wrecked. They had been destroyed by a missile strike the day before.
A missile strike that was part of the military’s containment protocol.

Yeah, I
should’ve been focused. I should’ve been taking aim, returning fire. But I
couldn’t stop thinking about Rebecca’s face. It was scrunched up in pain and
anguish - it was the realization that I wasn’t coming with them.

Her voice.

She screamed
at me. Swore at me and cursed me. She was about to jump overboard. But Jack
stopped her at the last second. He wrestled with her. Overpowered her.

I continued
to provide cover fire as they made their escape.

I told
myself it was the only way.

"It was the
only way."

I tell
myself I did the right thing.

Surrounded

The cold, hard reality is that Jack, Kim, and Rebecca may very well have been
blown to bits as they made their escape. It would only take one gunship, just
one Apache attack chopper in the area. Or F22 or A10 bomber.

 
Just one.

And it would
be all over for them. But I convinced myself they’d made it. I convinced myself
they were too fast to track. I convinced myself they were long gone, that
they’d made it to the open waters. Safe from the military and the containment
protocol. And the infected.

The boat
they had found was fast. In a matter of seconds it was out of Darling Harbor.
Out of sight and harm’s way.

I forced
myself to focus on my surroundings. Concentrate.

Live.

I wiped a
tear from my face and got back to the business of staying alive. The men in
black were closing in on my position, flanking me. These soldiers were probably
Special Forces, like Navy Seals or British SAS. Some of the weapons and rifles
they were using I didn’t recognize at all. Their black suits looked
different. Way more advanced than anything I’d come across in my limited time
in the armed forces.

And they had
me surrounded.

My mind was
working at the speed of light, trying to figure a way out of this situation. I
needed to get off the jetty and the marina. Get out of the harbor. Find a place
to hide. My mind was working through any and all possibilities.

It took me a
second to realize there was a voice shouting at me.

Yelling and
cursing me.

Like Rebecca
did.

It took me
another second to realize this voice was in my head. The voice was my own.

Rebecca once
told me that after her father disappeared, she started hearing this voice in
her head. The voice would speak to her, clear as day, as if someone was standing
right next to her, speaking into her ear. She said it was the voice of fear and
self doubt. She said she had never told anyone about that voice. Not even her
mother. I don’t know why she chose to tell me. But I have a bad feeling that I
am starting to hear a similar voice.

The voice
spoke to me as I was huddled behind the wreckage of a luxury yacht, on the
jetty in Darling Harbor. The voice told me I was done for.

It asked me,
"How the hell are you gonna get out of this?"

"You’re out
numbered. Out gunned."

"They’ve got
the high ground."

"The
infected are coming."

"You can’t
fight a war on two fronts."

"Not you."

"Not with
one rifle."

"Two
magazines."

"Sixty
bullets."

"You’re a
dead man."

I shook my
head. Slapped my face.

It was time
to focus on staying alive.

The men in
black were closing in on both sides. Squeezing me in. These guys were good.
Methodical. They were closing in fast. I was running out of options and out of
time. I had two points of cover within crawling distance of each other. From
these two positions I could cover the soldiers making their way across the
Darling Harbor footbridge and the two soldiers who had made it across the
bridge. They were to the right of my position. Getting closer. They were my
priority. I had to take them out before it was too late. If they got the jump
on me, it really would be all over. And if these guys were indeed Special
Forces soldiers (which I’m pretty sure they were) it wouldn’t take them long to
make their move.

"They train
for this type of thing every single day. Over and over. It’s a reflex for these
guys. An automatic response. A skill set they’ve developed through countless
hours of brutal training exercises."

"Shut up," I
told the voice in my head. "Focus."

I had to
stop building these guys up in my head. They were only human.

Out of
nowhere I remembered a quote from the movie ‘Predator’. "If it bleeds we can
kill it."

So yeah,
there were two guys to the right of my position and a whole squad, maybe more
to my left, coming over the bridge.

Mission impossible
right?

The crazy
thing was these guys were probably American. Maybe Australian or British.

Last week we
were fighting and serving together. And Now? Now everything was messed up
beyond comprehension.

They were
following orders and their orders were to enforce the ‘containment protocol’.

Shoot to
kill.

I know this
because they used to be my orders.

What a
difference a week can make.

Another
volley of bullets smashed into the jetty. I ducked my head and prepared to
return fire. The soldiers on the footbridge were well concealed. The bridge
provided excellent cover. It was about as wide as a main road. And it was at
least twenty feet above the water. If they made it over to my side, they would
eventually overrun my position.

But first
things first. I needed to deal with the two soldiers who had made it across the
bridge.

I got to my
knees, aimed my rifle. I looked for them but I couldn’t see them. They had
taken cover. They were hidden. Invisible. They were ghosts. And then from
behind a giant slab of concrete that used to be part of a building, something
was lobbed in a high, looping arc. Something small and black.

A grenade.

It flew
through the air in slow motion.

The word
‘grenade’ was shouted over and over, loud and clear inside my own head. I watched
it fly through the air and I knew at once this was no stun grenade. It was a
frag grenade. It was designed to inflict bodily damage, serious injury. Death.

The men in
black knew I was dug in and they knew I had the ability to shoot. They weren’t
messing around any longer. They had taken the initiative. I guess I should’ve
expected that.

Meanwhile,
everything was still happening in slow motion.

As the
grenade hit the peak of its arc, the handle sprang off, spiraling slowly to the
ground. At this point I knew the fuse had been ignited. I had a few seconds;
maybe less before the damn thing blew up, fragmenting bits of red hot shrapnel
in all directions.

The grenade
began falling back to earth.

Coming
closer.

It landed on
the jetty right next to me, bouncing to my feet, rolling around in a small
semi-circle before coming to a stop right against my boot.

I was frozen
to the spot for second.

One second.

It felt like
an eternity.

Everything
was still happening in slow motion.

I dived into
the nearest boat wreckage. I curled into a ball, and covered my face. Another
second passed.

Another
lifetime.

And then it
erupted.

There was a
blinding flash of light. The shockwave pressed into me. The noise destroyed my
hearing.

The light,
the shockwave, the noise.

Everything
happened at once.

The red hot
shrapnel smashed into the jetty and the boat. A huge chunk of wood crashed down
on top of me.

My world
turned dark.

The sound of
my own beating heart was the only thing I could hear, the only thing that told
me I was still alive.

Chaos

I couldn’t see and I couldn’t hear. I was in bad shape. I needed those two
senses if I wanted any hope of staying alive. My heart was still beating like a
goddamn jackhammer. Thumping, like the rotor blades of a helicopter. There was
a loud ringing in my ears. Almost as loud as my beating heart. I threw the
piece of wood off me. Scrambled to my feet. I was so disorientated. I had
completely lost my bearings. I had no idea which way I was facing.

Suddenly
another explosion erupted in the harbor. A much bigger explosion. I turned
around in time to see a section of the footbridge being blown up. Concrete,
bitumen and wood flew in all directions, crashing into the water. I was
instantly confused.

Had they set
charges to blow the footbridge? Why would they do that?

Another
explosion erupted way overhead. The side of a building was partially destroyed.
Concrete and glass rained down into the marina and the harbor. Then I saw what
had caused the explosions. It was the tank. It was over near the casino building.

Slowly I
regained my senses. The bridge had taken a direct hit from the tank. The tank
was completely covered in the infected. Like ants attacking a larger insect.
The driver of the tank was freaking out. You could tell by the way he was
driving. Forwards. Reverse. Then forwards again. The main gun swiveled around
back and forth. They were trying to shake the infected off but it wasn’t
working.