How To Lose Weight And Survive The Apocalypse

Chapter 11

It was a bizarre night, on par with the characters from Mad Max Fury Road throwing a barbeque in a nursing home.

The six of us had showered under lukewarm water in the chilly concrete stalls, then we washed our clothes and hung them to dry on the line next to the toilet block. In silence, we set up our tents around the firepit area, and sorted out food for dinner.

And standing over us the whole time, was Bev with her loaded weapon. She sat on a deckchair with a can of beer beside her, guarding the access between us and the caravan zone. Every few minutes, she'd sip from the can, then move the rifle so the barrel continued to follow our movements.

"Maybe we should just go," Bailey whispered at me as we lit the fire.

"I'm worried she'll think that's more suspicious. The best thing we can do is stay and show her she's got nothing to fear." My words were brave but my fingers shook as I struck a match and threw it into the kindling, flinching at the snap of the match and the way the spark looked like gunpowder igniting.

As night fell, we ate solemnly while Bella and Mischa tumbled around on the artificial grass that surrounded the kid's playground next to the bathrooms. Her light-hearted squeals of joy contrasted with the oppressive atmosphere Bev cast over us.

"Bev?" An elderly voice hailed our host, and we all turned to see a handful of people wandering towards the fire in the dark. "Is it safe? Are you okay?"

Bev's grunt was affirmative. "I'm watching them," she said, indicating the gun in her lap.

Another man held a second rifle. "Do you want a break?" He had to be eighty if he was a day.

Before Bev could answer, a delighted cry of, "Puppy!" rang out over the campsite, and a tiny girl with a massive halo of dark hair flew past the old folks and over to the playground.

She threw herself down next to Bella, who was lolling on her back. The girl looked up at Mischa sitting on a swing and asked, "What's her name?"

"That's Bella." Mischa hopped down and squatted next to the dog. "I'm Mischa."

"Bella's sooo cute!" Together they patted the belly of the fluff ball, who soaked up their attention with happy panting. "I'm Larissa."

"I like your hair."

"Thanks. It's called an Af-a-ro," she said carefully. "My mummy has one too."

"My mummy doesn't live with me."

"Neither does mine right now, but Nana says she's coming. Wanna play?"

"Okay!"

The two girls scampered up the rope ladder to the top of the slide while Bella yelped happily from below.

The adults watched in shameful silence. In less than thirty seconds, two eight year olds had shown more humanity than any of us, and everyone felt it. Bev cleared her throat. "She's a good girl, your daughter."

"She is," said Rueben from beside me. "I'm trying to get her to Tasmania."

"That's a long way," said one of the women who'd joined the group. "Patrick and I just drove up from Tassie. Beautiful part of the world. We loved it, didn't we, Pat?"

The other man with the gun nodded. "Yep. On our way back to see the grandkids in Sydney. Not sure what we'll do now," he added sadly.

"Do you want a gin?" said Simon, pulling a large bottle from somewhere. "No tonic, I'm afraid."

"I have a warm bottle of tonic water," said someone else. "A few of them, in my van."

"Does your little girl like sparklers? We've got a pack left over from Australia Day."