How To Lose Weight And Survive The Apocalypse

Chapter 3

There were a few beats of silence, then pandemonium. "Tasmania?" Nev cried in horror. "Like, the island where all they do is grow apples?"

"That's the one," Bailey said, throwing a jovial arm over Nev's bare shoulders. "The one where two-headed people mix freely with their non-mutant brethren, and it's totally fine to marry your siblings."

"That's incorrect and disparaging to the people of Tasmania." Simon was still on the couch, his furry eyebrows low as he waved the water bottle he'd been sipping from. "It's illegal to wed siblings or parents anywhere in Australia. Although first cousins are fine. Uncles and aunts too."

The rest of the room was in a general state of unease, several people leaving the room, others making calls, most just shouting for everyone to calm the eff down.

Rueben's voice cut across the clamour. "Karla, why Tasmania?"

I smiled in gratitude. Quickly, I explained about the farm, bringing my brother's Airbnb website up on the large screen. "It will be safe, there will be food and water, and there's room for anyone who wants to come."

Another round of disgruntled noises arose, and I lost my cool for a second, yelling, "Listen, no one has to come. In fact, if you have family within walking distance, I suggest you go be with them. But I have nothing in Sydney and this is where I'm going. If you want to join me, great."

"But it's an island," said Nev again, anxiously braiding her waist-length glossy hair with nervous fingers. "The boats don't work. Do we have to swim there? My extensions aren't supposed to go in salt water."

"No, Nev, we're not going to swim." Actually, I hadn't thought that far ahead about how we would cross the Tasman; the one and only time I'd been down to Tassie for a farm visit, I took the ferry. Racking my brain, I threw out the only option that came to mind. "We'll take a yacht or something."

"Do you know how to sail a yacht?" Bailey asked, a slender eyebrow arched in derision. I shook my head, and then questioned the room, "Does anyone know how to sail?"

Uncomfortable quiet stole across the room, but before I could retort that we'd cross that sea when we came to it, Rueben spoke quietly. "I can."

"You can?"

"I've be sailing since I was nine. I even know a man with a yacht at Port Melbourne. I can take you."

I studied this attractive-ish man I'd known for all of an hour. It had never occurred to me that he'd want to come along; if I'd considered why he was even still in my offices, I would have vaguely thought he was just waiting for an Uber Lux to ferry him off to the penthouse suite of an upper-class health retreat somewhere in the executive part of the Hunter Valley. "Why?" I asked, wonder and suspicion fighting for first place in my tone.

"I have someone I need to keep safe," he said simply. "I'm not great in a crisis, and we don't have any other family or a reason to stay in Sydney. This farm idea sounds like a case of right place, right time."

I didn't like the sound of the 'someone' but I also didn't have time to argue. "So, that's sorted, then. We sail." I squared my shoulders and checked my smart (soon to be a very dumb) watch. "Okay, we've got about 45 minutes until we lose power, and fuel is going soon after. Our lives depend on the planning we do right now. If you're with us, sit down and let's work. If you're not, go with my love and stay safe."

I wasn't actually sure what I wanted; the safety of large numbers or the flexibility and speed of a two or three person team. It ended up being somewhere in between: Nev, Simon, Bailey and Rueben all sitting down at the table, and counting Rueben's 'someone' and myself, we had a total of six.