Chapter Text
There was no prior warning.
One moment, he was walking to work, weaving between those slower than him. Dodging seats and rubbish bins; The rocks in this flowing river of human traffic.
He was contemplating a cup of coffee from the cafe just before his building.
The extra fifteen minutes sleep-in was not adequate reward for the lack of time to make breakfast.
He knew that as soon as he arrived at work, his boss would be hounding him for reports that were meant to be done before he left work the previous friday.
Reports that his boss would not read but would immediately file away, never to be seen again. Reports that had no further use,
than to ensure that he continued working, that every minute of free time would be filled with productivity.
A woman in front of him tripped over, the hot beverage she was holding catapulting from her hand, to smash into a tree in front of her.
Upon contact, it burst open like an overripe fruit, spilling it's liquid centre to dribble down the tree. He paid little attention to this,
as others around the woman were doing likewise. Some tripped and fell, others just crumpled as though all their bones had in one instant been removed.
There was no time to think about it, however, as everything went black.
He did not lose consciousness, it was merely that everything around him was black. The vertigo then hit him. With no reference point, his mind could not orient itself.
He was like a compass that was spinning wildly. He tried to scream, but could not make a sound. He closed his eyes and the dizziness lessened.
Time didn't exist here. He could barely remember what existed before this, every memory was hazy. It could have been years, or minutes.
The blackness of his closed eyes grew lighter, as though he were facing the sun, and he opened one a crack. This action was greeted with a blinding light,
that at once seemed directly in front of him and also far off. He heard a noise, faint but so sudden and unexpected that it could have been akin to the roar of a crowd at a concert.
It was a pulse, and the light seemed to pulse with it. There were two tones to the noise, like a car alarm going off. On one tone the light was close to him and on the other, far away.
He opened his eyes completely and the lights seemed to merge and grow. As the light grew, it's whiteness slowly coalesced into colours.
The noise was still there, but a crackling noise had begun to accompany it. An acrid smell assaulted his nostrils, an oily smokey smell.
His skin prickled in places, pain blossoming out from the back of his head. Slowly, his awareness' began to come together, to merge into a singularity.
He was lying on the footpath. Above him, a building stretched out towards a bright and dazzling sky. Briefly it was obscured by a thick black smoke.
He turned his head to the side and was surprised by a car on fire. It appeared to have crashed into an outdoor heater in front of a cafe, and was well and truly consumed.
The oily, black smoke seemed to haze around, unable to be whisked away due to the lack of breeze. He lifted himself up slowly, a dull ache in his arm telling him that he had fallen awkwardly,
paid spreading from the back of his head. He brought his hand around, and felt something sticking his hair together. Bringing his hand back, he discovered fresh and dried blood.
Looking around, it was immediately obvious that the nearby car wasn't the only one that had crashed. A tram ahead had derailed, it's two parts scissored together,
cars crumpled in front and behind. He could see smoke in the distance, whether from more cars or a building was not immediately forthcoming.
A high pitched whine caught his attention and drew it off in the distance in the direction of the Melbourne Cricket Ground. From out of the clouds appeared a large white and red jumbo jet,
like a dead bird it was spiraling towards the ground. He saw the bright light and flames a moment before he heard the roar of it's explosive collision. A feeling of helplessness washed over him.
He thought about the number of people who would have died, aware of the inevitability of their impending demise. The preverbal light clicked on and he realised suddenly that he was alone.
He spun around and despite the warzone of his surroundings he could not see another single soul.
"Hello!" he shouted, "Anybody?"
There was no reply but the continued crackling of fire and repetitiveness of the car alarm.
He looked away from the long plume of smoke coming from the Cricket Ground, towards the main Melbourne Train Station; Flinders Street Station.
Still he could not see a single person. A moment, a lifetime, ago it was the middle of peak hour. People hurried along every footpath,
desperate to get to work on time. Now, the only movement came from the flickering of flames in the odd wrecked car.
He began to walk, slowly, towards Flinders street and as he grew closer his despair grew. Upon the well known steps, that for decades
people had used as a meeting place where at any time of the day or night at least one person would be waiting, was nothing.
The bare stone bespoke a loneliness all of it's own. The clocks above, and the great hands of the clock tower, showed
that it was still before nine o'clock in the morning. As he walked, the noise of the car alarm lessened and an eerie silence existed
ahead. He waited at the intersection, waiting for the little green man and the insistent, hurrying clicking noise.
Even with the lack of cars, trams and motorcycles he still felt the pull of indoctrination and repetition to remain until he was allowed to cross.
He walked up the steps , underneath the clocks and into the concourse of one of Australia's biggest railway stations. Barriers prevented access
to the main part of the station, yet one was mysteriously open.
"Hello?" he called again, his voice echoing through the emptiness.
He walked to the large glass windows and looked down upon the platforms of the station. Some trains remained on the platform, three or four were
stopped in the distance. Still, nothing moved. For a moment, the silence grew overwhelming. This hive of activity had become inexplicably
empty. His attention was drawn to a large screen near the main entrance. The words 'LIVE UPDATE' were flashing on the screen.
He recognised this screen, usually it displayed news articles. Often they were stories that would appear later on the evening news, or had already
appeared on the morning shows. The words disappeared and were replaced by an immaculately dressed news reporter. The young lady was standing
somewhere on the outskirts of the city, the Eureka tower could be seen in the background. For a second, it appeared to be a frozen picture, then she
began to talk. No sound pierced the blanket of silence around him, obviously the screen had been put on mute or did not contain speakers.
Text appeared at the bottom of the screen, inside a little red rectangle.
'ATTACK ON MELBOURNE. CASUALTIES UNKNOWN'
The reporter was replaced by a home video. A child was playing with a dog, being pulled around by a bit of knotted rope. The camera swung around
to focus on something bright. The picture zoomed in and became a little fuzzier, showing some sort of rapidly expanding blue dome around the city.
The dome grew, electric blue obscuring the towering sky-scrapers. Lightning seemed to crackle upon it's surface, clouds in the sky were pushed away
rapidly, retreating in the face of the unknown power. Quickly the dome shrunk upon itself, dwindling to a small bright light. The light then winked out,
leaving Melbourne City still and unmoving. Presently, smoke can be seen rising up from numerous places. The picture then changed to another,
from another direction, showing the same scene over again. Then the reporter was back, talking without sound.
His attention was drawn away from the screen by the sound of an explosion in the distance, but it was far away and posed no danger.
The picture on the screen however had now focused beyond the reporter, at a great plume of black smoke rising from the city.
A sharp noise sounded from behind him and he spun around quickly. A blond girl stood, twenty meters away from him. It appeared that she had just
stepped around the corner into the concourse and stopped in shock at seeing him standing there, consequently dropping her school bag.
She stood less than five feet tall, long straight blond hair framed a very pretty face that was temporarily marred by eyes red from crying.
Her blue blazer was torn down one arm and her plaid skirt had a dark stain on it, she appeared to be in her mid teens.
In a single instant, the overpowering loneliness had disappeared. Despite the news report, proving that others existed out there, he was overjoyed
to discover that someone else had survived the attack.
"Are you." she said, hesitantly, "Are you real?"
"Yes." he said, clearing his throat, "Yes I am."
With a cry, and fresh tears she ran to him. Holding tight onto his coat, she cried. His arms encircled her protectively, holding her tight.
"It's okay." he said gently.
"It's okay. I think it's over now." he added.
She moved her head up and down, indicating that she had heard him, but continued crying.
He continued to hold her, but kept half an eye on the television report. The reporter was getting into a helicopter. The cameraman followed.
The helicopter took off, the camera remained focused on the reporter as she continued talking.
He turned his attention back to the school girl in his arms.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She sniffled a little as her crying stopped. She looked up at him, but did not release her grip on his jacket. Whatever make-up she was once
wearing was almost gone, washed away with the tears of despair.
"Amy." she said, almost a whisper.
"Amy, my name is Mark." he replied.