Life Goes On | Book 4 | If Not Us [Surviving The Evacuation] Tayell, Frank (classic books to read .TXT) 📖

“Cape Town’s a major hub, which would have made it a major target for a nuclear bomb,” Tusitala said.

“No one knows if it was,” the general said.

“The refugees might,” Tusitala said. “We should canvass them.”

“We’ve no time,” Tess said. “We’ve got to pick a destination so I can tell Mick, and he can tell Perth, and they can tell the captains of the rescue ships.”

“Cape Hangklip,” the ambassador said. “On the east of False Bay. It is close to Cape Town, but still a safe distance from the city. We will find a refuge, but we will send scouts ahead of us to Cape Hangklip. Find them there, and they will tell you where to find the rest of us.”

“Sounds good,” Tess said. “General?”

He gave a slow nod. “Agreed.”

“I’ll speak to Captain Adams,” Tusitala said.

“And I better tell Mick,” Tess said.

“This plan breaks all my rules,” Mick said. He and Tess stood on the tarmac as the last of the children got aboard.

“There’s no alternative,” Tess said. “We can’t stay here. People are already leaving. But if we try to stay, you’d have to fly these planes in full of supplies, and we both know what a mess Australia’s logistics are in. One plane crashes, takes out the runway, and it’s over. Too many zoms come from the south, and there’s no escape. But there is an escape now.”

“Through two thousand kilometres of a potentially radioactive continent, to a potentially radioactive ruin of a city neither of us have heard a peep about since the sky fell on our heads,” Mick said. “Sounds like that ambassador isn’t any better informed. Are you going with them?”

“By ship or by road,” Tess said. “But I can’t leave by plane, and you can’t be on the next one. You’ve got to go back to Perth and make sure the rescue ships are coming.”

17th March

Chapter 12 - The Worst Workout

HMNZS Te Taiki, Mozambique

A weight dropped from her shoulders as fast as the helicopter soared upwards, taking her to the HMNZS Te Taiki.

The previous day, after Mick’s plane had departed, Tess had driven back to the beach. The injured had been loaded into the bus, while the surviving defenders had been marshalled into a column and walked back to town. Clyde had set a gruelling pace. Frustratingly, Toppley had no difficulty keeping up, while Tess’s hip had made itself known at the three-kilometre mark.

They’d sung bush songs to maintain their spirits, alternating between African and Australian, all of which Clyde knew. Dr Avalon attempted a quiz on the electrical conductivity of alloys, but Leo was the only one who might have understood the questions, and he was suffering the heat in silence. Oakes dealt with the undead, for a total of nineteen lost souls. Worryingly, all came from the south. All were recently turned. But their column walked into Inhambane alive. Exhausted, but alive.

As the sun hovered directly overhead, seemingly for hours, Tess had longed for sleep, but instead had walked the rooftops, being seen, offering what words of reassurance she could that departure was imminent. The fuel-freighters were brought inshore, their contents unloaded into the harbour-side tanks. The general went south to retrieve the mining machines, and came back with, among other vehicles, the four bulldozers which had been barricading the bridge.

After the dozers arrived, it was far too late to put them back. While their presence guaranteed the peninsula would fall sooner, it confirmed the general’s intent to drive south.

All that time, and after, planes arrived. Soldiers disembarked. Children boarded. The sun burned. The sun set, and Tess sent the scientists and Zach to the warship. Night’s arrival brought the return of fear and the release of grief. Tess, once more, paced the rooftops, offering what comfort and reassurance she could. The night was punctuated by rifle fire, and warning shouts. Whenever she reached that part of the city, she always found Clyde, Hawker, or Oakes already there, and the danger long dealt with.

When dawn arrived, over fifty hours since she’d properly slept, so did orders for her to report aboard the frigate.

As the helicopter set down, a deckhand threw open the door. Head bowed, Tess trudged from the helicopter, following the sailor to a bulkhead door. Inside, suddenly, she was enveloped in cool silence. The ship thrummed with engine vibrations, and it was barely cooler inside than out, but she was out of the sun, and away from the flies, a growing menace on the mainland. Laying her hand against the cool metal wall, she made the mistake of closing her eyes.

“Ma’am?” the sailor said. “Do you need to visit the doc?”

Tess forced her eyes open. “Sorry. It’s been a busy month.”

The sailor led her through cramped corridors and crowded landings, until they reached a nearly empty room near the stern: a gym. Well-equipped but as cramped as the corridors. It was reminiscent of the just-out-of-town hotels where equipment was purchased so it could be listed as a feature, with no consideration for how it would all fit into one room. Treadmills, recumbent bikes, weights, and a pair of rowing machines, though the last seemed distasteful aboard a ship. Between and atop the equipment, however, were crates. Plastic. Not military. Secured with rope and webbing to the room’s walls and the bolted-down equipment.

One person was in the room, standing hands on hips, clearly having been sorting through the boxes.

“Captain Adams, this is Commissioner Qwong,”

“Thank you, Sullivan. Those three crates by the door are bandages. Send them ashore to travel with the convoy.”

“Aye-aye, ma’am.” The sailor grabbed a crate and hurried away.

“Captain Robyn Adams, g’day,” the captain said, holding out a hand. She wore sweats and a short-sleeved t-shirt, though with combat-boots on her feet.