How To Lose Weight And Survive The Apocalypse

One year later

"I can see her!" Mischa shrieked so loudly, Rueben and I both jumped, and his hand squeezed my butt as it rested inside the back pocket of my faded cargos. The three of us were at the main intersection of Ulverstone, the daily market buzzing around us as we waited for our guest.

"I don't think that's her, honey," I said, reaching out to give Mish a quick hug. The person making their way up the hill was clearly a six-foot man, but Mischa was so desperate, she was projecting onto just about anything. On the way into town, she was convinced that a particularly svelte tree was the person we were looking out for. "How about you go and trade some eggs for something fun?"

I handed her a basket of our untraded chook bounty and her eyes lit up. "Oo! Can I get a necklace? Jaime from the Lott's farm has been making them with pretty stones!"

"Sure," said Rueben, smiling.

"Yay!" She scampered away between the stalls, Bella hot on her heels. The little dog had been her shadow for so long, it would almost be weird to see one without the other.

Rueben rubbed the small of my back. "What are you thinking?"

"About how Bella's going to react. How it might break Mish's heart a bit."

He laughed softly. "That dog has more than enough love to go around. What's really worrying you?"

I gave it some thought as the market swirled around us. People from the area gathered most days on the hill at the top of town to trade wares and services, and we were practically fixtures. Between Nichola's hives, the eggs the kids gathered, the fresh meat and milk my brother carefully cultivated and the vegetables my parents tended, we had plenty to barter with.

I wasn't worried; I was wary. Our lives had been calm-ish for almost a full year. Today might change everything again.

Before I could formulate my thoughts, someone called out to Rueben. "Hey, Doc?" Bertie from the yacht club wandered over, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Can you fit me in for a session this week?"

"Of course," said Rueben. "Tuesday? I'll come to you."

"Great. We can take the Great Escape out after, if you like?"

"Done."

The two men shook hands, and my heart was glad that Rueben had rediscovered his calling. Being the only psychologist for about 200 kilometres, he was in high demand for his services. As the world had settled into a new 'normal' post-apocalypse, people had begun to realise that they needed help to process everything that had been lost. Rueben saw clients almost every day, even the ones who couldn't afford to give anything in return. "They need help more than we need the trade," he explained.

The market traffic was beginning to ebb; people mostly arrived early to get their first pick of the offerings, then drifted away as the sun drew higher. Being spring, the locals were coming earlier, enjoying the warmth of the sun after months of brutal Tasmanian winter.

There were a million things I missed about my previous life. Taking toilet paper for granted, instead of a luxury resigned to the past, replaced by rags. Throwing out the wilted leaves from a lettuce or a brown banana without a second thought. The ability to book a flight to anywhere around the world. Twitter and TV.

But those first-world conveniences were offset by the idyllic social setting we'd landed in. We were friends with our neighbours, invested in our township. We were lucky; the people who travelled over the sea to Tassie spoke of how the other states were faring. Melbourne had thrived, but Sydney had fallen; it was apparently nothing more than a Mad-Max-esque wasteland these days. Adelaide had been abandoned with everyone deserting the city for the surrounding farmlands, and Queensland had quickly formed violent, segregated alliances along racial lines. As for Perth, it was too far away for anyone to even have heard rumours about. All in all, our clan had landed in the best possible situation, and I gave silent thanks for our strong, resource-rich community every day.