We unloaded allot of the camping gear from my parents silver Mitsubishi Pajero into Tylers Toyota Hilux, both high set, large four wheel drives. I was in the middle of tossing a large and bulky swag across to Tyler- it was Petes from memory- when I heard John tell Harry that we could be killing things.
Tyler laughed, and said "Don't encourage him!"
I knew it was a joke, but I didn't find it funny. I'll be completely honest, it scared me, but I wasn't going to let anyone else see that so I simply clenched my jaw and kept on shifting. It wasn't long before we were all back in the cars, I can't remember who went with who, but I just John was in the passenger seat next to me. He told me his story again, this time with some new details but other than that, there was no competition. It was completely silent in the car, in recollection we probably should have tuned into the radio- try and learn what we could, but we didn't.
Early onsets of panic were beginning to grip the town, there appeared to be a crash around one of the primary roundabout which we skimmed around without an issue. The supermarkets and camping stores were overwhelmed in a sea of people baying for the best equipment and police were there in full riot squad get-up, but we didn't stay around for the show.
As we hit the highway I glanced quickly at John, his Jaw clenched like mine and eyes set on the horizon, he was rubbing his shoulder softly, it looked like he'd done some damage in the car accident they'd had.
"We should be heading the opposite direction, John. The mountains would be our best choice if we're stuck for a long time. They're isolated, and there's always fresh water and they're crawling with wildlife." the Highway had reached a long straight, we could see far into distance. "If people- like you say- are rising from the dead we should be heading away from population centres. Not toward them. It's going to be... chaotic."
I couldn't help but keep thinking 'The majority of our population is based around the Central East Coast. All low lying terrain, all North of Cooma, our town. Harry's farm was on the outskirts of a town called Bredbo, more or less halfway between Cooma and Canberra, the closest population hub. The further North we drove, the less distance there was between us and the Death-Trap that the cities became. To our South was the Kozciusko National Park, covering a section of the Great Dividing Range called the Snowy Mountains, a region I knew well from various hikes and skiing trips. The mountains would provide a shield from the coast, and cut a wall between us and the Southern cities and towns like Melbourne, while the cold and difficult terrain would provide a difficult and time consuming task should the corpses try to pursue us. It was ideal.
John looked at me, I don't know what he was thinking, or feeling, but he just looked at me, or into me.
We came to the end of the great stretching road, and upon rounding the corner we came across the last thing we needed to see. A great semi-trailer had tipped, blocking the road and causing several other crashes around it. Three or four cars were banked up on our side, while a good two dozen were piled on the far side.