Valli : Personal Journal of Valli Pillay, a Living Dead Pandemic Survivor

Entry 27

I talked to Fergie about how I was almost raped. We ended up talking more about how it affected Dad and made him more determined to prepare me for any eventuality.

One of the first things Dad did was to teach me how to drive the pickup. Luckily, we didn't have a shortage of fuel. He made sure of that. Getting used to changing gears took a little while, "Grind 'em till you find 'em," Dad said. Then told me not to grind them because he didn't know any good mechanics. We laughed at that one.

Dad had taken to carrying the gun with him whenever we went out. We only had eight bullets or shells as Dad called them and we needed more. Dad felt the more guns we had the better, especially if there were more feral people around. The one place he thought might have guns was the home of an old man by the name of Marais, one of the few people who had an actual house in Deux Bras and wasn't far from our farmhouse. I knew he helped Dad around the farm every once in a while and was my grandfather's old friend.

"It was Marais who told me to set up the solar panels at the hut," Dad said. "He's been using solar power for a long time. He built the house before the area was properly zoned, so he had no electricity for a while. Smart guy, and if he's living out here he'll have a gun."

"Will he be home?" I asked.

"I don't know. Maybe," Dad said. "He only has one son, who lives in Curepipe. Maybe he went there."

Dad took a bolt cutter and sledgehammer.

"In case he's not there."

I had misgivings about going into someone's home without their permission and told Dad I didn't want to break in and take stuff.

"You saw what kind of people are out there now?" Dad asked. "We don't have a choice."

Another issue that motivated Dad was that winter had come to Mauritius. A lot of people believe a tropical island can't get cold, but trust me; it can, especially when you're staying in a hut that is draughty and in a windswept area. Dad wanted to check for winter clothes and whatever else we could scrounge. Old Man Marais had granddaughters my age. I told Dad, Marais most probably took everything, but he said we should give it a shot anyway. It took us two minutes to get to Marais's land which was surrounded by a fence. His property was at least four to five times bigger than our farm. We first drove around the land on the outskirts alongside the fence. The fields were mostly covered with litchi and coconut trees, but weeds had sprung up all over the place, evidence that it had been abandoned for a while. Every twenty meters or so Dad stopped the car, got out, shook the fence and waited. The living dead, he said, were always attracted by noise, but there was nothing. We soon found ourselves at the front gate which was on southwest side of the farm. Dad climbed onto the roof of the truck and checked the yard. He even threw a couple of rocks into the yard.

"Nothing," he said.

I pointed out that the weeds blocked our view and there might be living dead inside. I saw a bell at the gate, Dad rang it a couple of times and we waited. There was no answer. Nobody came to open the gate. The gate itself was constructed from aluminium bars with a padlock in the middle. The padlock was on the inside, huge, and difficult to get at. Dad struggled, trying to get the bolt cutters through, but there was no way he was going to cut it. He told me to stand to the side and went to the truck. He backed up and when I realised what he was going to do, it was too late for me to stop him. He drove the truck straight at the gate busting it wide open.

Luckily the truck's front bumper was fine. The paint had chipped, but the gate was open.

"Always wanted to do that." Dad grinned. "Like the movies."