automatic to manual. Won’t take a moment.” He unlocked his seatbelt.
“Take the axe,” Callan said. “You never know.”
D arkness beyond the murky yellow headlights appeared peaceful, innocuous. It might have been any other night, coming home from a friend’s house or the movies. Tell yourself that. He had no choice. He had argued for the refuge of his parents’ house and now he almost had it.
“ Good idea.”
He too k the axe from the storage area in the back. It was a familiar tool. He had spent countless hours splitting timber for his parents’ wood fire. Out camping, they had shared a roster for the essential jobs: firewood, clean water, dishes and washing. He had grown to know the axe like a friend and it felt comfortable, but he prayed he would not have to use it.
“Be careful,” Kristy said, placing her hand on his arm. “I couldn’t deal with it if…”
He though t about kissing her for good luck. A peck on the cheek or maybe the lips. What if he never got the chance? What if he was killed or maimed so badly he couldn’t function? You’d be a zombie then, and wouldn’t remember anything. He knew Callan would be pissed though, and Greg would be heartbroken. “Thanks.”
“You wanna co-pilot?” Greg said from the front seat.
Yes, he thought. That would be fucking great. Greg was a good guy. If Dylan had learned one thing on this trip, it was that. It sucked that he liked Kristy too. He wouldn’t risk anyone else though. “Thanks man, but I’ll take this one.”
Sherry said, “ Hurry, I hate being out here exposed.”
Stepping outsid e, he closed the door. The day’s heat remained like a warm blanket. The ground was dry, as though it hadn’t even rained in Albury. He inhaled through his mouth, bunched his nose in disgust at the rotten scent. Death. It was close.
Dylan hurried to the fixed section of the gate where the sliding part closed. The lever sat on the other side, and he needed to lean through the bars and pull it to release the connection. He turned in a circle, widening his eyes and tuning his ears to the night.
The town was dark, except for the odd lick of orange flame. He heard them, far off, goring and grunting, feeding, killing. We can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be long before they overtook the town, if they hadn’t already. They would find them up here on the hill, eventually.
He leant the axe against the fence and squatted, reaching through the railings. His fingers groped, finding weeds and the bulky motor casing. He felt around, but couldn’t find the lever. Damn. He didn’t want to have to climb over. It was too high for him to scale without a boost from one of the others.
With a final push, he reached between the bars, and touched a thin, flat metal rod. He clasped his fingers around it and pulled, feeling the mechanism dislodge. He took the axe and walked to the heavy gate, then leant into it, pushing with his thighs.
The gate moved a couple of inches and stopped.
Once it gathered momentum it would roll all the way to the other side, but he didn’t have the strength in one arm. He would have to put the axe down.
His heart skipped. He looked around once more just to be sure they weren’t waiting for him inside the property. He laid the axe on the ground and stood at the end of the gate, then pushed, getting his shoulders and legs behind it.
The gate slid open, picking up momentum. He gave it a final shove and it coasted to the other side, leaving space for the Jeep and trailer to enter. He heard the muted sounds of clapping from inside the car and gave a thin smile.
Picking up the axe, he stepped aside and waved them through.
The Jeep spun its wheels on the gravel, found traction, and then rolled past, rising slightly as it crossed raised ground under which a concrete pipe ran ferrying rainwater from the roadside gutter. The brake lights on the
“Take the axe,” Callan said. “You never know.”
D arkness beyond the murky yellow headlights appeared peaceful, innocuous. It might have been any other night, coming home from a friend’s house or the movies. Tell yourself that. He had no choice. He had argued for the refuge of his parents’ house and now he almost had it.
“ Good idea.”
He too k the axe from the storage area in the back. It was a familiar tool. He had spent countless hours splitting timber for his parents’ wood fire. Out camping, they had shared a roster for the essential jobs: firewood, clean water, dishes and washing. He had grown to know the axe like a friend and it felt comfortable, but he prayed he would not have to use it.
“Be careful,” Kristy said, placing her hand on his arm. “I couldn’t deal with it if…”
He though t about kissing her for good luck. A peck on the cheek or maybe the lips. What if he never got the chance? What if he was killed or maimed so badly he couldn’t function? You’d be a zombie then, and wouldn’t remember anything. He knew Callan would be pissed though, and Greg would be heartbroken. “Thanks.”
“You wanna co-pilot?” Greg said from the front seat.
Yes, he thought. That would be fucking great. Greg was a good guy. If Dylan had learned one thing on this trip, it was that. It sucked that he liked Kristy too. He wouldn’t risk anyone else though. “Thanks man, but I’ll take this one.”
Sherry said, “ Hurry, I hate being out here exposed.”
Stepping outsid e, he closed the door. The day’s heat remained like a warm blanket. The ground was dry, as though it hadn’t even rained in Albury. He inhaled through his mouth, bunched his nose in disgust at the rotten scent. Death. It was close.
Dylan hurried to the fixed section of the gate where the sliding part closed. The lever sat on the other side, and he needed to lean through the bars and pull it to release the connection. He turned in a circle, widening his eyes and tuning his ears to the night.
The town was dark, except for the odd lick of orange flame. He heard them, far off, goring and grunting, feeding, killing. We can’t stay here. It wouldn’t be long before they overtook the town, if they hadn’t already. They would find them up here on the hill, eventually.
He leant the axe against the fence and squatted, reaching through the railings. His fingers groped, finding weeds and the bulky motor casing. He felt around, but couldn’t find the lever. Damn. He didn’t want to have to climb over. It was too high for him to scale without a boost from one of the others.
With a final push, he reached between the bars, and touched a thin, flat metal rod. He clasped his fingers around it and pulled, feeling the mechanism dislodge. He took the axe and walked to the heavy gate, then leant into it, pushing with his thighs.
The gate moved a couple of inches and stopped.
Once it gathered momentum it would roll all the way to the other side, but he didn’t have the strength in one arm. He would have to put the axe down.
His heart skipped. He looked around once more just to be sure they weren’t waiting for him inside the property. He laid the axe on the ground and stood at the end of the gate, then pushed, getting his shoulders and legs behind it.
The gate slid open, picking up momentum. He gave it a final shove and it coasted to the other side, leaving space for the Jeep and trailer to enter. He heard the muted sounds of clapping from inside the car and gave a thin smile.
Picking up the axe, he stepped aside and waved them through.
The Jeep spun its wheels on the gravel, found traction, and then rolled past, rising slightly as it crossed raised ground under which a concrete pipe ran ferrying rainwater from the roadside gutter. The brake lights on the
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