They Will Run You Down

Forty-One: Cockatoo Island

Cruising along on the harbour, the group of four had a small window in which to collect themselves and witness the new landscape. The sky above them was still mostly clouded over, but there were little breaks of sunshine appearing from behind the heavy blanket that warmed everyone's skin, despite the chilly breeze that swept through the expanse of open water.

There were flocks of squawking Silver gulls hovering above as they scavenged for fish and crustaceans. The sight of them was a reminder that many species aside from humans had undergone a shift in lifestyle when things went to hell. The days of hanging out in car parks and garbage dumps were a distant memory for the resourceful gulls.

Looking out at the city that cocooned the harbour, one could almost imagine that the virus had never struck. But it was quiet, too quiet for such a large metropolis. Boats, having come undone from their docks drifted independently in the water, aimless and haunted. Most wore the telltale signs of decay with rust weeping down the gunwales and barnacles creeping up the hulls. It wasn't unreasonable to speculate that there were probably a vast array of boats that had already sunk to the seabed beneath them.

Harley unzipped her backpack and lifted Rebel out so he could see what she saw. Neither of them had ever been on the open water and Harley wanted to share the experience with a fellow first timer. Rebel stiffened up in Harley's arms and gazed down at the rippling, waving water as the boat cut through it. He seemed mesmerized but nervous, unsure of what to make of the whole thing. Harley imagined that her pup must have been confused about what the water even was.

While Harley sat sidelong on one of the benches with Rebel tucked safely in her arm, John padded over and took a seat beside them, his gaze focused on the scenery.

"Would've been nice to know about Cockatoo Island before we crossed the bridge," Harley muttered, staring at the Sydney Harbour Bridge as it stood tall in the distance.

John glanced at Harley, "Because of Robby and Perez?"

She nodded.

John pursed his lips, "We had no way of knowing about the island before we got to the CDC"

Harley shrugged.

Lifting his arm, John brushed a few stray hairs behind Harley's ear, looking at her with adoration. Despite her impenetrable veneer, John knew she cared a great deal more than she let on.

She glanced at him quickly then returned her gaze to the water, "Do you think this'll be the place?"

John was quiet for a moment in thought as he looked out over the harbour, "Yeah," he nodded, scratching the stubble on his cheek.

Harley smirked, "Liar"

Looking at her perplexed, John asked, "What?"

"You did the thing," Harley said, smiling.

John knit his brow, "What thing?"

"The scratch thing. . The thing you do when you're worried or uncomfortable," Harley explained.

"I have a scratch thing?" John asked, looking puzzled.

Harley snorted, "Uh, yeah," she said then mimicked John, scratching her cheek while feigning an overly concerned expression.

John shrugged his shoulders, "I'm just itchy"

"Itchy with worry," Harley teased.

Smiling, John turned his gaze back to the harbour.

"You have one too, you know. . A thing," he informed.

Harley looked at John, frowning, "Do not"

John reached down for Harley's free hand, lifting it to display her fingernails; raw and chewed down to the fold