by wa5 » Tue Feb 12, 2019 11:38 am
Fern Bay is a continuation of the peninsula that is Stockton. The "bay" is really just the river bank of the Hunter River. some of the water views are blocked by thick mangroves that cling tot he bank and extend about ten metres into the water. As Lisa and I passed the Magenta Muscle car, the mangroves were on our left. The road stretched North ahead of us, the small community of Fern Bay, was on our right. As said earlier, once past Stockton, the beach and dunes spread out, between the homes in the tiny suburb and the ocean lay some rather arid bush land, then some sand dunes. From this point North, the river turned west, north west and the land mass grew much wider.
I was cruising along, thinking about the possibility of securing Port Stephens, or part of it, erecting road blocks as strategic bridges, thinking that I should find a map so see if it could work, I had an idea that the whole of the area was surrounded by ocean and river, but would have to check to se if that were right. I then came up with the great idea of getting a note pad to record my moments of genius.
Whilst congratulating myself for this great Idea, a huge group of the infected began to stream from the mangroves. wet, muddy and in the nuddy ha ha. The pantsless horde rose from the water and sprinted toward us. I presumed they were keeping out of the heat. The water there was still tidal and therefore salty, surely they weren't drinking it?
The road was fairly crowded in this area, it was impassable by car, all four lanes blocked stalled by bumper to bumper North bound traffic until I had cleared a lane with my loader a few weeks previously. The open lane was furthest from the mangroves, the horde had to make it past, through and over the stalled wrecks before they reached the road.
I wasn't sure that the little van was going to get there first, if we didn't, it would mean several hundred metres of reversing down a single lane, fast. I knocked the van back from its leisurely loping fourth gear, into second and revved that dog eared old work truck, harder than it had been revved in its entire life.
As we shot forward, those at the front of the group hit the roadblock. The first to try and climb over the tight packed cars appeared to recoil. They shot backwards, away from the cars, colliding with the rest of the group still advancing behind them. Pushed forward, they were flattened against the cars and crushed into them as those behind clambered over their comrades, and then the cars.
The process repeated, those at the front touched the cars, recoiled and were driven back onto the cars, and those next in line did the same thing.
We got past with a few seconds to spare, save for one rather athletic monster that was a little ahead of the pack and launched into the side of the van as we passed. The van rocked a little, once it settled down, I slowed down. The danger now disappearing in the vans smudged rear view mirror.
"We didn't get to smoosh any of them" Lisa said, obviously a little disappointed. That reminded me of something else I would have written in my notebook, if I had one "Lisa, we have to smoosh them, because they are dangerous and they are sick. Its not their fault that they got sick and turned into monsters. I certainly wouldn't want to be like that, and I don't think any of those people would either". Lisa was quietly watching me, I carried on, rather awkwardly, have I mentioned that adulting really sucks sometimes? " with what happened, the sickness, we have to put these poor people out of their misery, because they are dangerous and they are sick, and they cant get well. Nut its not a good thing. its never a good thing, its not something you should ever be happy about", (Unless they pee on your quad), I thought, but didn't add. The little girl nodded and said "Ok, do you think Mummy is one of those monsters now"? I suddenly needed to look at something outside my window as I managed to croak out "No", "No, I don't think so either" she said "it would be too hard for her to keep up with the rest of them in her wheelchair". Ahhh ****, some people have all the luck. Mothers in a chair, has a daughter with a disability, Husband walks out with bitch girlfriend.... and then turns into a fuckin zombie. Why did bad things always happen to good people? I guess, that if I'm being fair, bad things, had also, in this case, happened to the worst of people as well. Another item for the notebook, try to get into Lisas house, it would be nice for her to have some pictures of her Mum, and maybe some clothes.
The road past the airport blockade was littered with bodies, thankfully the stench that would be flooding the air outside couldn't affect us. The vans delightful odour of stale cigarettes and vintage fast food overpowered the smell from outside. The bodies were pretty beaten up by the great smooshening that occurred yesterday, but I guessed that some of the marks and damage that I noticed weren't from the loader. The well fed monsters didn't stir from wherever they were hiding from the hot mid morning sun, or they had got rather shy. The van wasn't that loud, maybe they just didn't hear us.
We turned left and headed past the RAAF base main entrance towards Medowie, and the supermarket. A few monsters rushed at the inside of the locked RAAF gate, they were never getting past that. I slowed and carefully drove around the abandoned blockade near the gate. The Army trucks there should have stocks of MREs , guns and Ammo, something else to remember. The armoured Bushmaster personnel carrier parked to the side of the road was also on my wish list.
We rolled on to the roundabout between Medowie road running east to west and Richardson road running north south and still jam packed with stalled cars. The third blockade was set up here, another possible source of supplies, really need that notepad.
Straight through the roundabout, no monsters about. Were they hiding from the scalding sun, or gon to greener pastures in search of water? I coasted to a halt near the abandoned Everpure bottled water truck. It has hundreds of those blue pastic water cooler bottles in special racks. Leaving Lisa in the van, I bought Max with me, getting more confident in his ability to spot trouble before I could. I took a look at the bottles. The precious cargo was untouched, It took a minute or two to figure out how to unlock each bottle from the racks. I took only two bottles, we still had enough water for some time, I planned to come back and get a full load. Maybe I could get the whole truck, alas, no keys.
A few metres past the water truck, was a fuel truck. Pulling up beside it, I knocked on the tank, it gave a dead thud as far up as I could reach, it was full of something. I ran to the drivers door and climbed in, it had a Key. Checking around and hearing nothing above the quietly idling van, I turned the key. The low air buzzer sounded, good she still had some charge in the battery. This road had also been gridlocked until I cleared it a few weeks prior on my way to the supermarket the first time. The truck driver had shut his truck down properly, not leaving the key on, or letting the truck idle its fuel tanks dry. I twisted the key, nothing, oh yeah, I should have remembered, One of my mates had one like this, turning the key stops it, The rubber button beside the key starts it.. The truck turned over slowly, I crossed my fingers and coaxed her on... the batteries were giving up, she was slowing down, I was dreading having to jump start this big monster, it would be a 24 volt system, that meant multiple batteries and multiple jumper leads. The batteries still had some life in them, this was an old truck, Thirty years old at least, a late seventies or early eighties cab over Kenworth. It was obvious from just how clean she was inside, that somebody took good care of her, The batteries were probably pretty new, even though they had been sitting idle for a month, they kept delivering power. the big Diesel continued to turn, it sounded slow.. lazy, but she turned. Please, please come on sweet heart, please. One pot woke up. "birr birr birr birr woof, birr birr birr birr woof". Even though the battery was reaching the end of the road, that one big piston was helping to carry the load. She still needed the starter to keep running and it was slowing down even more. I gambled and touched the big steel accelerator pedal. Shiny from years of use with "KW" cast into it. Another cylinder caught. She was just barely running on her own now. Cruelly, I kept the starter button hard down. and fed a bit more fuel. The engine sped up, still sounding terribly sick but definitely running under her own power "Good girl" I patted the engine cover affectionately. Feeding in more and more fuel the revs slowly built up. Number three woke up. white smoke, unburnt diesel floated outside the cab, that hollow dead exhaust note, continued, punctuated by the deep "Woof" when each of the three living cylinders fired. 500 rpm seemed to be about as fast as that sleepy diesel would turn. all I could do was hold the throttle down and hope the engine would catch up.... When the fourth pot woke up, I throttled back a little, she continued to run roughly, I carefully went back to an idle and she continued to stagger along. I made a snap decision to leave the van and take the truck back to Fords, we would return for the van later. By the time I got Lisa and the dog into the high passengers seat, another two cylinders had clocked on, only two more to go.
throwing my guns and bag into the truck, I climbed in and closed the door. Not a minute too soon, The noise and smoke from the truck had attracted visitors.
The low air buzzer had quieted and the little warning arm that was hanging down with "low air" on it, had retracted into its slot. The engine still sounded like at least one piston was not pulling its weight, but it was time to go. I found a gear that was going my way and let out the clutch, and almost stalled the big machine. Smack my forehead... parking break. Push in the big red button on the dash, and try again. she starts rolling forward, in the wrong direction, but we were rolling.
It was a big truck, about thirty tons loaded. I had to travel all the way to the shopping centre to turn around. Thank God it was a rigid truck, not an articulated semi trailer. I motioned Lisa over to me, she sat on the padded engine cover as we headed east. I reached up and pulled the chai, the two chrome trumpets sounded, alerting every monster within five miles of our location, The little girl giggled.
I hoped that the big air horns would draw any nearby monsters away from the supermarkets. Amidst much crunching and grinding, I found another gear, we got up to ten kph. I I tried again, and we managed twenty. I needn't have bothered with the horns, the big Detroit Diesel was bellowing out of the chrome stacks that snaked up behind the cab.
The noise of the Big Diesel was calling the monsters, they charged at the truck, its polished alloy bull bar mad short work of them all. Not really understanding the complicated gearbox of the Truck, I decided that 20kph was plenty fast enough, we dawdled back to Fords place in a leisurely fashion.
I didn't even know if the fuel truck was carrying Diesel or petrol, it didn't matter, both would be useful. At Fords I came to a halt just outside his machinery shed. I'd take the Interceptor to pick up the old van if I had to, but was hoping Fords old Holden ute would start. it did, no issues, no misbehaving, no coaxing necessary, it just fired up and idled., Parking the fuel truck in the utes spot, we were soon heading back to get the van and resume our shopping trip.