The Lost Journal Part 14

How did I get to this point? How did I get here?

Does everything happen for a reason? Is this fate?

I thought it was. And I hope it is.

Being sent to military school. Running away. Joining the marines.

Being re-deployed in Australia.

The Oz virus.

I guess it's lucky my skills were honed. I can kill a man from two miles away. This gruesome skill has come in unbelievably handy these past couple of months. This skill has no doubt saved my life.

So I try and convince myself that I've done the right thing.

Fate and the choices we make.

When I made the decision to leave my post, to flee from the operation in Woomera, it was because I genuinely believed the military had last control. Command had begun ordering the deaths of the town's people and the refugees. Shoot to kill were our orders. Air strikes. Nuclear strikes. It was bad. And I wanted nothing to do with it. The only thing I wanted to do was warn Rebecca about the plague.

That was my only goal.

And I think I accomplished that.

I found Rebecca. I warned her. She got out of the city before it was too late.

Job done.

So how did I end up here? How did I end up trapped in the city with Jack and Maria?

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure.

Maybe it was pure luck.

Maybe it was fate.

Maybe it was Jack's strength.

Maria's strength.

They're asleep now. It's a deep sleep that can only be brought on by absolute exhaustion. They are sleeping in each other's arms. A tight embrace. A lover's embrace.

I look out over the dark Sydney skyline. I can see the skeleton of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. Smoke that is darker than the silvery moon light billows up to the starry heavens. Orange spot fires that are the devil's eyes populate the city. Looking at me. Watching.

I scribble in this notepad.

It gives me strength Feb 8th - Darling Harbor Two days ago I was stranded and trapped and surrounded and alone in Darling Harbor. The harbor was a picture of chaos. It was the definition of chaos. And I kept telling myself I did the right thing.

"I did the right thing."

Staying behind on the jetty while Jack, Rebecca and Kim made their escape in the speed boat. Providing a suppressive cover fire. This was the right thing to do. The only thing I could've done.

Yeah.

I did the right thing. They would've been killed otherwise. Their boat would've been shot to pieces.

They would've been shot to pieces.

I kept telling myself I did the right thing. I had to make sure they got away clean.

"I did the right thing."

I mean, what was the alternative? The pursuing soldiers had the high ground, the numbers, the fire power. They would've been torn to shreds. It would've been a bloodbath.

"I did the right thing."

Why does doing the right thing suck most of the time?

And Rebecca.

I couldn't get the look on Rebecca's face out of my mind. Her face. I couldn't stop thinking about it. She has never considered herself attractive but G.o.dd.a.m.n it, she is. She's beautiful. She has these big chestnut brown eyes. Wide like saucers. It's like she has this constant inquisitive look about her, like she is always studying everything around her. Taking everything in. Reading you and your thoughts.

You could lose yourself in those eyes for hours. Days.

I should know.

Her lips. Her smile. They way she played with her hair when she was nervous.

Everything about her.

All of this. I can't get her out of my head. I should've been focused on staying alive. I should've been focused on the soldiers closing in on me. I should've been watching out for the infected. But at that moment I was thinking about Rebecca.

A volley of bullets whizzed over my head and smashed into the wooden jetty I was crouched on. More bullets smashed into the surrounding boats. All of the boats were completely wrecked. They had been destroyed by a missile strike the day before. A missile strike that was part of the military's containment protocol.

Yeah, I should've been focused. I should've been taking aim, returning fire. But I couldn't stop thinking about Rebecca's face. It was scrunched up in pain and anguish - it was the realization that I wasn't coming with them.

Her voice.

She screamed at me. Swore at me and cursed me. She was about to jump overboard. But Jack stopped her at the last second. He wrestled with her. Overpowered her.

I continued to provide cover fire as they made their escape.

I told myself it was the only way.

"It was the only way."

I tell myself I did the right thing.

Surrounded The cold, hard reality is that Jack, Kim, and Rebecca may very well have been blown to bits as they made their escape. It would only take one gunship, just one Apache attack chopper in the area. Or F22 or A10 bomber.

Just one.

And it would be all over for them. But I convinced myself they'd made it. I convinced myself they were too fast to track. I convinced myself they were long gone, that they'd made it to the open waters. Safe from the military and the containment protocol. And the infected.

The boat they had found was fast. In a matter of seconds it was out of Darling Harbor. Out of sight and harm's way.

I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. Concentrate.

Live.

I wiped a tear from my face and got back to the business of staying alive. The men in black were closing in on my position, flanking me. These soldiers were probably Special Forces, like Navy Seals or British SAS. Some of the weapons and rifles they were using I didn't recognize at all. Their black suits looked different. Way more advanced than anything I'd come across in my limited time in the armed forces.

And they had me surrounded.

My mind was working at the speed of light, trying to figure a way out of this situation. I needed to get off the jetty and the marina. Get out of the harbor. Find a place to hide. My mind was working through any and all possibilities.

It took me a second to realize there was a voice shouting at me.

Yelling and cursing me.

Like Rebecca did.

It took me another second to realize this voice was in my head. The voice was my own.

Rebecca once told me that after her father disappeared, she started hearing this voice in her head. The voice would speak to her, clear as day, as if someone was standing right next to her, speaking into her ear. She said it was the voice of fear and self doubt. She said she had never told anyone about that voice. Not even her mother. I don't know why she chose to tell me. But I have a bad feeling that I am starting to hear a similar voice.

The voice spoke to me as I was huddled behind the wreckage of a luxury yacht, on the jetty in Darling Harbor. The voice told me I was done for.

It asked me, "How the h.e.l.l are you gonna get out of this?"

"You're out numbered. Out gunned."

"They've got the high ground."

"The infected are coming."

"You can't fight a war on two fronts."

"Not you."

"Not with one rifle."

"Two magazines."

"Sixty bullets."

"You're a dead man."

I shook my head. Slapped my face.

It was time to focus on staying alive.

The men in black were closing in on both sides. Squeezing me in. These guys were good. Methodical. They were closing in fast. I was running out of options and out of time. I had two points of cover within crawling distance of each other. From these two positions I could cover the soldiers making their way across the Darling Harbor footbridge and the two soldiers who had made it across the bridge. They were to the right of my position. Getting closer. They were my priority. I had to take them out before it was too late. If they got the jump on me, it really would be all over. And if these guys were indeed Special Forces soldiers (which I'm pretty sure they were) it wouldn't take them long to make their move.

"They train for this type of thing every single day. Over and over. It's a reflex for these guys. An automatic response. A skill set they've developed through countless hours of brutal training exercises."

"Shut up," I told the voice in my head. "Focus."

I had to stop building these guys up in my head. They were only human.

Out of nowhere I remembered a quote from the movie 'Predator'. "If it bleeds we can kill it."

So yeah, there were two guys to the right of my position and a whole squad, maybe more to my left, coming over the bridge.

Mission impossible right?

The crazy thing was these guys were probably American. Maybe Australian or British.

Last week we were fighting and serving together. And Now? Now everything was messed up beyond comprehension.

They were following orders and their orders were to enforce the 'containment protocol'.

Shoot to kill.

I know this because they used to be my orders.

What a difference a week can make.

Another volley of bullets smashed into the jetty. I ducked my head and prepared to return fire. The soldiers on the footbridge were well concealed. The bridge provided excellent cover. It was about as wide as a main road. And it was at least twenty feet above the water. If they made it over to my side, they would eventually overrun my position.

But first things first. I needed to deal with the two soldiers who had made it across the bridge.

I got to my knees, aimed my rifle. I looked for them but I couldn't see them. They had taken cover. They were hidden. Invisible. They were ghosts. And then from behind a giant slab of concrete that used to be part of a building, something was lobbed in a high, looping arc. Something small and black.

A grenade.

It flew through the air in slow motion.

The word 'grenade' was shouted over and over, loud and clear inside my own head. I watched it fly through the air and I knew at once this was no stun grenade. It was a frag grenade. It was designed to inflict bodily damage, serious injury. Death.

The men in black knew I was dug in and they knew I had the ability to shoot. They weren't messing around any longer. They had taken the initiative. I guess I should've expected that.

Meanwhile, everything was still happening in slow motion.

As the grenade hit the peak of its arc, the handle sprang off, spiraling slowly to the ground. At this point I knew the fuse had been ignited. I had a few seconds; maybe less before the d.a.m.n thing blew up, fragmenting bits of red hot shrapnel in all directions.

The grenade began falling back to earth.

Coming closer.