How To Lose Weight And Survive The Apocalypse

Chapter 4

In some ways, it wasn't as bad as I thought I was going to be. There'd been a public transport strike in Sydney a few years back; during peak hour, the roads were clogged and everyone was honking and aggravated. The streets around us looked a bit like that now - cars bumper to bumper, people yelling at each other and revving their engines pointlessly. There were people wandering the footpaths, some crying, some running, most talking feverishly into their phones, the invisible countdown hanging over everyone.

But the sky was terrifying. With our office so close to Sydney Airport, we were used to hearing planes coming in to land, but nothing like this. The air was filled with a constant roar as if a giant bonfire was burning, and planes of all sizes hung around us. I'd read somewhere that a plane landed every 90 seconds at major airports, but I watched at least three planes in a minute hurtle towards the runways, desperate to get wheels on the tarmac. Others circled in tight loops, waiting their turn anxiously, reluctant to come too close to the land and hovering over the ocean, just in case.

At least ten helicopters buzzed to the ground. Some lurked over the city, a few fleeing south and north, other medical choppers skimming low, searching for emergencies. One passed directly overhead, causing the three of us to duck as immense loud speakers bellowed, "It is safest to stay inside. Food and water will be available at Olympic Park. Looters will be prosecuted. Emergency management protocols have now been enacted."

Rueben shook himself, as if trying to wake from a dream. "My car is over there. Do you want a lift to the warehouse?"

"No," I murmured, struggling to focus, feeling the weight of this hour in history. "It's the wrong way, and you'll struggle to get to Coogee as it is. We'll walk."

"I will be back," he said, reaching for my shoulder hesitantly. "Please wait for me."

My needy single self cried, Forever, you sort-of-attractive-man I just met! I managed a toned-down response. "Until two."

He nodded, jaw squared. "See you soon."

Simon and I watched him cross the road and slide into an Audi. He pulled the car into the traffic stream that inched along, and I felt a pang that the last time possibly ever that he'd get a chance to drive such a gorgeous vehicle, he'd be doing five k's an hour.

What else would we miss? Cars, of course. What about lifts? People on the fiftieth floor of an apartment building, having to relocate from the sheer logistics. Electric toothbrushes. Vines. PlayStations. Hair straighteners. I always let my hair dry naturally, but someone like Nev would be in for very nasty shock the next time they showered.

Showers. Omg. Hot water was out – would pump systems still work? I wasn't a plumber, and I had no idea whether water would still run when everything else didn't. What did that mean for washing clothes? For drinking water?

Overwhelmed, I turned to Simon. "We have to get moving. If I keep standing here, I'm going to freak out."

I walked off in the direction of the camping warehouse, with Simon grumbling behind me. "No one said there would be walking..."

"We're literally cycling to Melbourne, and you're bitching about walking twenty minutes to the shops?" I sassed.

But ten minutes later, I wasn't feeling very sassy. My boots were not made for walking, and they cut into my heels with every step, the balls of my feet in agony. My thighs rubbed together, sweating beneath the non-breathable fabric of my suck-in panties, and my long shirt kept tucking itself between my legs and pulling my neck forward.

Simon had been observing my struggles, in silence and in judgement. "Maybe you can get some clothes from the store that aren't completely impractical," he said, looking smug in his regular uniform of jeans and sneakers.