Death (Book Two in the Apocalypse Trilogy)

Chapter 4: Departing

Damon

Damon sat in the driver's seat of the van. Out in the garage, Mike was lifting crates of supplies.

"Yo Damon, would you help out please?"

"Bad back, Mike. It hurts just to walk."

"Yet you're going on this trip."

"They need a person to be injured, haven't you ever seen a zombie movie?"

"We both know they're all full of horseshit."

"Still fun to watch."

Lyon walked in, carrying a plastic case labelled 'Explosive.'

"Get out of the van, you lazy-ass."

"No, I'm fine."

Stephen Hawking screeched.

"You brought that crazy bird with you?"

"Hey, Stephen Hawking is smarter than all of us combined. Aren't you?" he crooned to the hawk.

"Stephen Hawking also has an excuse for not helping us pack," Mike muttered.

Doctor Kelly followed Lyon, carrying a leather briefcase.

"Damon, out of the van or you're not going with us."

"Fine, fine. As you wish, my lords... and lady," he said in surprise. Commander Simon had come in, with him a red-headed woman.

"We've met, haven't we?" Lyon asked her.

"Yesterday, Paul's room."

"Right."

"Are you sure you want to go?" he heard Paul ask her.

"Of course. I'll see you when I get back," she said back, smiling. They kissed.

"My cue to lift supplies," Damon said, grabbing a zipped bag containing ammo magazines. Paul game him a look that clearly told him Grow up. Damon held up his hand in mock surrender.

Paul left after that. Damon decided that with the only man on the base he feared gone, he would now talk to the woman.

"Second Lieutenant Damon," he said, extending his hand.

"First Lieutenant Mary-Anne. My friends call me Mary."

"Can I call you Mary?"

She considered his request. "No."

Mike snickered. "Would you like some ice, Damon?"

"You'll need some for your face in a minute," Damon threatened, holding his fists up in a boxer's stance.

"Bring it," Mike said, assuming a similar position.

"Stop it, guys. I asked for the best, and somehow I end up with you," Lyon said.

"Now our feelings are hurt," Damon said sarcastically.

"Yeah, boss. How could you do that?" Mike pretended to sob. Damon joined in, and they both sank to the ground howling.

"Five minutes, and we're gone," Lyon said, and got into the driver's seat.

"Yes dad," Mike muttered, and pulled the black motorbikes out of their crate. Damon climbed onto one.

Mike threw him a helmet.

"What the hell is this?" Damon asked, examining the visored piece of armour.

"New regulations."

"Regulations? Where we're going, we don't need regulations."

"Back to the Future? You're going to unleash your sense of humour on Back to the Future?"

"What if I told you that nothing is safe from my mind?"

"And of course, he picks The Matrix," Mike groaned.

The door to the garage opened again, and a man Damon had never seen before came in. He was carrying nothing but a sports bag and a bandolier of shotgun shells.

"Who's that?" Damon whispered to Mike.

"He came in yesterday, everybody knew him but me. He's supposed to be in the cell block."

"Took you long enough to get here," Lyon said, taking the bag from the man.

"I had to explain a few times why I wasn't locked up. You couldn't have just given me a note or something?"

"Slipped my mind. What's in this bag? It's a bit heavy."

"Your mother's ass," the man replied without batting an eyelid.

"He's almost as bad as you are," Mike said to Damon. "The imperative word being 'almost'".

"Too right."

"I'm going to assume you won't try to rebel against or something," Lyon said, throwing the bag into the van.

"Okay, now that you're all here, I'm going to tell you why we're going on this trip. Doctor Kelly has almost finished the cure, and we're going to Canberra in the hope that the creators are inside the wall and alive. It'll take about a week and a half, provided we can use the van the whole way. Any questions?"

Mike put his hand up. "Yeah, who's the guy who could give this clown a run for his money?"

"Thank you, I've always wanted to be a clown. I could hide in drains and eat children," Damon said in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up Damon, I hate that book."

"'It' is a book?"

"Of course you only saw the movie."

"Anyway, this is Cal, an old friend of mine. He recently got back from a long search."

"What's up?" Cal said.

"The sky, the roof, planets, stars, galaxies-", Damon began.

"Shut up, I want to leave in my lifetime. Any other questions? No? Alright, let's move out."

Damon kicked the bike into life.

"Dude, helmet."

"Nay, my friend. I shall ride with nought but the clothing on my back and yonder crossbow."

"Whatever, Shakespeare."

"Shakespeare? 'Tis but an imbecile compared to my intellect."

"Right. And how many timeless plays have you written?"

"Want to know something? I write down everything that happens during the apocalypse,, ever since day two."

"What about day one?"

"I couldn't find a pen and paper."

"Oh. And what do you intend to do with your diary?"

"Journal, thank you very much. When this is all over, the notebooks I used will be artefacts of this period in our history, kind of like the Dead Sea Scrolls."

"Will they tell of your ego the size of a galaxy?"

"Really funny," said Damon as he rolled his eyes.

The heavy doors to the outside world slowly lifted, making a grinding noise as metal scraped against metal.

"On the road again," Damon began.

"Just can't wait to get on the road again," Mike continued.

"The life I love is making music with my friends," they sang in unison, and laughed.

"And I can't wait to get on the road again, on the road again," came a clear voice from the shotgun seat on the van. Mary-Anne was singing as well.

"Goin' places that I never been, seeing' things I may never see again," he and Mike bellowed.

"And I can't wait to get on the road again," they all shouted, and started driving. The Bunker shrank down to a small dot and disappeared.