Remembering the Zombie Apocalypse

Stopping at McDonald's Grafton under a sky that looked as though it had taken a king hit one day reminded me of another in which we'd wandered under this rail bridge and into the popular car trip rest stop.

That day the sky had been hitting us with serious cancerous rays. It resembled being in a desert as some days in Grafton do. We been taken, in a rusted old van and blindfolded, to a distant edge of the Jacaranda City. There were six of us and most I vaguely knew. Keeping our eyes peeled for zombies we shuffled, laden with hiking packs, through the suburbs. Sweat clustered in my hair under my hat while I straightened the matching headband.

We scrutinised the gravestones of the local cemetery and unafraid of zombies (who we knew were completing their HSC) we dumped out packs in shopping trolleys to enter the busy intersections looking undead ourselves. I was glad at the information centre, breathing in the air conditioning as we found out how long their video ran for. At the near deserted train station we clapped our companions on the back, astonished at their survival in the boiling toffee of the air of the air.

The bridge was a real horror movie set. A hundred years old it hung in rusted folds over the swollen river. The train tracks rattled to our left even without a train and above the cars inched along like us. We dragged ourselves to a cute vintage red phone box and rang it only to find we'd forgotten the Baptist church. Apparently their opening times were important and we emerged on the hardest journey of all.

Water had evaporated right out of our bottles and we hadn't eaten since breakfast: it was already 2. With our trolleys abandoned only determination dragged us back along the main drag and to the river front.

Finally we were supplied with food and water and had two sick and heat exhausted venturers to coddle. But we prevailed, building a raft from two canoes and two poles. Once more we crossed the expansive river to arrive at Susan Island.

Apparently zombies had crossed this fast flowing water and arrived ahead of us on the island. Because zombies cross water all the time (they hate water). Regardless we had to build a tree fort to hide from them when they would inevitably swarm us tonight. I was glad we didn't actually have to sleep there. We were saved so that we could trek through a darkening forest probably inhabited by Slender man. I'm sure our spooky stories just egged him on.

On the way back down the 4km k island we didn't need torches however because we were far too enthralled by dancing fireflies. Oblivious of our tiredness they were joyful. They were bright sparks in the welcome cool of night.  By this time (probably 7:30) we looked forward to dinner.

And we got it:
1 cup tiny dry pasta
1 tablespoon "surprize" dried peas
1 cup-a-soup packet
1 can of tuna (and twiggy sticks for everyone else)

That's right, Venturer scouts can cook their own meals, especially when camping on an island (apparently swarming with zombies).  The hike-style main meal was made up for when our group (red) was presented with dessert.  Tinned fruit and custard, mmhhmm.  

We all went to bed in our sleeping bags happy, still ignorant of any actual zombie attacks. 

Day 1 of the Inititave Course had passed for 32 Venturer Scouts on Susan Island.   Missing, Assumed Dead. 

Dragonskin: City Rail to Campbelltown

Besides only just catching the 8:03 train we were excited. Between Central and Campbelltown there was about an hour to kill.

On the third carriage and just before Strathfield I submit to being tagged with sharpies in bemusement. VIRGIN in capital letters is written by the girl with a shaved head and SLUT on her arm. My companions also get SLUT and it seems that a tagging frenzy has begun. I become a member of Hayden's army in open rebellion against Flynn's forces. Several others see our uniforms and leave their marks on our arms.

The city rail is clogged with us all in matching shirts, clots of hiking packs lounging across double seats. Anticipation hums beneath the surface and mingles with the efficient static of the train like a badly kept secret .

We see scarves of many colours on our journey down the train. They all bear the purple script saying "Maddie xx" down their arms and we're searching for this mystery girl who could complete our team. Pushing through the narrow doors my sleeping roll gets stuck again and again then finally releases me into the shifty ledges between cars. At stations we play leapfrog, rushing from one carriage to the next in a search that seems fruitless once we reach the first carriage. Is this some elaborate hoax?

Finally back on the third carriage we find her- not exactly what I was expecting. The script and her movement down the train had put in my mind the image of a small, lithe girl terribly excited, enthusiastic, entirely sociable. Instead we introduce ourselves to a farm-girl, heavy set with similar thick-necked companions. But here we have it-the completion of our half-abandoned team. Sure enough we're in, its done and my two friends lose their interest.

They slouch so much like gear, no doubt worn out from a sleepless night upon our other train; oh well, they're sluts and have been this way before. But me-m I can't stop looking at that first word on my arm and am filled with buzz; I can't sit still. Out of my pack I pull a precious, terrible prize. Fire-engine red its an amazing opportunity- to meet new people as a scrawl my name across their skin.

Dragonskin: 4 days, a 1 000 teenagers, one forest. Can't wait for next year- a birthday, easter and Dragonskin all at once :D