We spent the night in the SUV. The next morning we continued our journey. We had only walked about ten miles before we came to a driveway that led to a two story mansion of a farmhouse.

We had been travelling on the road for just over a week. And by Daniel’s estimate, we had travelled about three hundred miles. A combination of driving, walking and running. He said we’d earned ourselves a break. The farmhouse would be a good place to rest for a day or two.

“Nuh uh. No way,” Maria said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Look at it.”

The house had two levels. It was painted white. It stood on top of a small hill. A dirt driveway led all the way from the road to the house. Next to the house was a barn.

“Looks like a regular old farmhouse,” I said.

“No. It looks anything but normal. It looks haunted. It looks like the house out of the ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’. I am not going in there.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Hey, that big dude,” Jack said. “Leather Face or whatever his name is. His chainsaw would’ve come in real handy back at that supermarket we tried to raid last week.”

“Don’t even joke about the guy with the chainsaw,” Maria said.

“Fine,” he said. “You can stay out here.”

She didn’t like that idea either.

I must admit, after Maria mentioned the Texas Chainsaw movie, the house did start to look creepy in my mind. But it was a two story mansion of a house. It would be a perfect place to rest up. Provided it was empty.

Like I said earlier, in these situations, we send in the trained professionals. Jack, Maria and I stayed out near the road, out in the open, so we could see any dangers coming from a distance. Kenji and Daniel moved up the driveway with their rifles shouldered and ready for action.

As they got closer to the house, they made noise to draw out any infected that were possibly hiding inside. Or any survivors.

We hadn’t found any other survivors yet.

They checked the house and the garage and the barn. It actually took a while because it was so big. But eventually they called us up. The house was empty.

It was a rough and rustic looking farmhouse. Probably more than a hundred years old. Jack said the corridors and hallways were so huge we could’ve played indoor cricket inside.

We gathered in the kitchen to see if there was any food, but unfortunately the cupboards were bare.

Spread out on the kitchen table was a map of the area. It looked like the previous occupants had planned an escape route before they left.

Smart people.

Next to the map were a few letters.

One of the letters was from the government. The letter was an official warning about a ‘possible’ viral outbreak. It also listed precautions to take.

It read:

Wash hands regularly.

Cover mouth and nose when coughing or sneezing.

Avoid people acting aggressively.

Report any violent or unusual behavior.

Stay indoors when possible.

Do not go outside at night.

Quarantine and isolate any sick family members.

The next letter mentioned the nationwide quarantine. It gave instructions for an evacuation.

The locations of the military safe zones.

One of the notes was handwritten.

It read:

Jim,

Don’t know if you will ever read this, but I thought I’d better warn you about the biker gangs that have started showing up in these parts. Apparently they are moving out of the cities and looking for camping sites out here.

I haven’t actually seen any gangs yet, but word on the grapevine says they’ve started acting more and more violently, ever since the police station closed and the police officers were sent down to Melbourne and Adelaide to help with the quarantine.

Anyway, better to be safe than sorry, right?

Also, I thought you should know that tomorrow we are leaving for Hope. Father Damon is offering shelter and food and water at the church there. So that’s where we’ll be.

Good luck mate.

Ed.

Below the main letter was another note written in different handwriting.

P.S. Jim, if we’re not back by Monday could you check up on Princess Cinnamon. We let her out in the back paddock.

Thanks. Sarah.

Kenji had a closer look at the note and then handed it to Daniel. “Biker gangs. What do you think?”

“Doesn’t surprise me. People become aggressive in these types of situations.”

“These types of situations?” I asked.

“Yeah. Survival. Self-preservation. These are strong motivators. People will do whatever it takes. Their behavior becomes extreme in extreme circumstances.”

“So you’re saying people will become dangerous?”

“Sometimes. It’s a survival mechanism. Only the strong survive.”

I read the letter again to myself.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” Daniel continued.

“Thinking about what?” I asked.

“Well, we haven’t come across any survivors yet. But if we do, we can’t just assume that they’ll want to help us or that they’re good people. We need to be careful.”

“What are you saying?” Kenji asked.

“I think we should keep Maria’s immunity a secret.”

“Do you think that’s necessary?”

“Yeah, I do. I think if we find survivors, we should keep our mouths shut. At least until we know we can trust them, or until we know that they don’t pose a threat to us.”

“Why would they be a threat?” Jack asked. “Why wouldn’t we be able to trust them? Do you think they’ll try and hurt Maria? Or take her?”

“It’s possible. But I think the main reason we keep Maria a secret is because first and foremost, we don’t know how they will react. They may not believe us; they may want to find out for themselves, they may want to use Maria as a bargaining chip to get out of the country. There’s too many ‘maybes’, there’s too many risks. I say we keep our mouths shut and our guards up.”

Daniel made a good point. There were too many unknowns. So we decided to keep Maria’s immunity a secret if we found anyone. Just in case.

As night fell, we moved up to the second floor of the house, to the main bedroom. It had views of the whole property. Night is a dangerous time. It is when we are most exposed, the most helpless. As a result, we would all sleep in the one room, with two people keeping watch.

We all knew to be as quiet as possible.