Arcadium

    We never carry food; in this world it’s the new gold. Everyone wants it and if they know you’ve got it there’s no telling what they’ll do. I’m no expert at this, but I figure staying as low and incognito as possible is the way to survive. No big flashy weapons, no large groups to slow you down. Just fast feet, great hiding skills and a place to run to.

    “Flo?” Liss says in her bored whiney voice.

     I shoulder my backpack and step into the baking sun. “Yeah?”

    “It’s hot.”

    Cue inward eye roll for my genius kid sister. It’s funny because before the infection we didn’t really get along. At all. When my parents got divorced we both took a side and joined the battle. I stayed with mum over the other side of Melbourne and Liss moved with dad to the northern suburbs, where we are now. But fear does weird things to a person, and my first thought in the outbreak?

    I have to get to Liss.

    And I did, and it’s the only thing that’s been driving me since. We don’t know what happened to dad or mum. I assume they’re infected like nearly everyone else. So now it’s just Liss and me.

    “Walk on the footpath,” I say quietly. “There’s more shade.”

    Liss slips off the fence, cruises over to the nature strip and we walk. The sun glare is insane, we’re both squinting. It must be thirty-five degrees minimum, but at least it’s a dry heat. I can’t stand muggy and humid.

    Within seconds I have an ultra snazzy sweat moustache beading on my upper lip. Thank god there are no remotely attractive guys around to see me like this.

    Usually I wear this brown leather jacket I flogged from a store (after the apocalypse began, mind you, I’m no thief) because I hate to bare skin. If I need to take out an infected person I can’t risk them biting me or flicking blood everywhere and infecting me too. But it’s just too damn hot today, so I’m down to my black skinny jeans and this flimsy white t-shirt that you can totally see my dark coloured bra through. Maybe if I’d known the apocalypse was coming I’d have dressed more appropriately. But it seems you don’t get a warning when your world’s about to collapse.

    Liss stops a few metres before the intersection and I creep along a fence. I tilt my head so I can just see into the adjoining street.

    It’s all the same as before, single story brick houses with parched front lawns and dried up plants curling in on themselves. The colour of brick varies from sandy beige to flat out  brown to this dried blood red. Every house shape is different, set out on their blocks of land randomly like a Tetris game exploded. Most windows have shutters open or curtains closed; just a few are boarded over or blanked out with newspaper.

    Slowly I do a full scan from left to right. Movement is what the infected seem to go for, and people move an awful lot. I straighten and beckon for Liss to follow. We carry on to the right, along the shaded side of the street.

    Liss hooks her thumbs under her backpack straps. “How long till we get there?”

I look across at her. It’s amazing what kids can take, she always seems so unaffected. “How fast can you walk?” I say.

    We carry on like this all day. Stopping at each intersection, checking the way is clear and then moving on. At noon we stop and drink half our water. Liss sits on the grassy nature strip and stretches out her legs. I stay standing, always on guard.

    Liss holds out her arms. “Do you think I’m getting a tan?”

    I quirk an eyebrow. “What do you need a tan for?”