There were a few beats of silence, then pandemonium. "Tasmania?" Nev cried in horror. "Like, the island where all they do is grow apples?"

"That's the one," Bailey said, throwing a jovial arm over Nev's bare shoulders. "The one where two-headed people mix freely with their non-mutant brethren, and it's totally fine to marry your siblings."

"That's incorrect and disparaging to the people of Tasmania." Simon was still on the couch, his furry eyebrows low as he waved the water bottle he'd been sipping from. "It's illegal to wed siblings or parents anywhere in Australia. Although first cousins are fine. Uncles and aunts too."

The rest of the room was in a general state of unease, several people leaving the room, others making calls, most just shouting for everyone to calm the eff down.

Rueben's voice cut across the clamour. "Karla, why Tasmania?"

I smiled in gratitude. Quickly, I explained about the farm, bringing my brother's Airbnb website up on the large screen. "It will be safe, there will be food and water, and there's room for anyone who wants to come."

Another round of disgruntled noises arose, and I lost my cool for a second, yelling, "Listen, no one has to come. In fact, if you have family within walking distance, I suggest you go be with them. But I have nothing in Sydney and this is where I'm going. If you want to join me, great."

"But it's an island," said Nev again, anxiously braiding her waist-length glossy hair with nervous fingers. "The boats don't work. Do we have to swim there? My extensions aren't supposed to go in salt water."

"No, Nev, we're not going to swim." Actually, I hadn't thought that far ahead about how we would cross the Tasman; the one and only time I'd been down to Tassie for a farm visit, I took the ferry. Racking my brain, I threw out the only option that came to mind. "We'll take a yacht or something."

"Do you know how to sail a yacht?" Bailey asked, a slender eyebrow arched in derision. I shook my head, and then questioned the room, "Does anyone know how to sail?"

Uncomfortable quiet stole across the room, but before I could retort that we'd cross that sea when we came to it, Rueben spoke quietly. "I can."

"You can?"

"I've be sailing since I was nine. I even know a man with a yacht at Port Melbourne. I can take you."

I studied this attractive-ish man I'd known for all of an hour. It had never occurred to me that he'd want to come along; if I'd considered why he was even still in my offices, I would have vaguely thought he was just waiting for an Uber Lux to ferry him off to the penthouse suite of an upper-class health retreat somewhere in the executive part of the Hunter Valley. "Why?" I asked, wonder and suspicion fighting for first place in my tone.

"I have someone I need to keep safe," he said simply. "I'm not great in a crisis, and we don't have any other family or a reason to stay in Sydney. This farm idea sounds like a case of right place, right time."

I didn't like the sound of the 'someone' but I also didn't have time to argue. "So, that's sorted, then. We sail." I squared my shoulders and checked my smart (soon to be a very dumb) watch. "Okay, we've got about 45 minutes until we lose power, and fuel is going soon after. Our lives depend on the planning we do right now. If you're with us, sit down and let's work. If you're not, go with my love and stay safe."

I wasn't actually sure what I wanted; the safety of large numbers or the flexibility and speed of a two or three person team. It ended up being somewhere in between: Nev, Simon, Bailey and Rueben all sitting down at the table, and counting Rueben's 'someone' and myself, we had a total of six.

Goodbyes were said quickly from those who weren't staying, hasty hugs leaving no time for tears or extended sentiment. I held Max for slightly longer than my other contractors. "I'm so sorry, Max. Where will you go?"

With red rimmed eyes and his perfect accented English, he pointed up. "North. Find a way to Darwin, a boat to Indonesia, I should be able to make it home eventually."

Aghast, I said, "Darwin? By foot? It could take months, maybe years. Plus you could literally die in the desert."

"The time will pass anyway. And if I die, I die trying to reach my family." He nodded solemnly at each of us, then left the office. I was gripped by the throat with the realisation that I would probably never see him again, this gentle man who I'd worked with off and on for the past two years.

No. No time to fall apart. I checked my watch again, relieved to see it still working. Forty minutes to black out. "Okay, so now you've decided to join me-"

"Actually, I haven't decided yet," said Simon, taking a very large swig from his bottle that I was suspected wasn't filled with water. "Who is at this farm place? If I'm going to spend the rest of my probably prematurely shortened life around these people, I deserve to know who they are."

Arguing would take precious minutes, and I knew Simon wouldn't let this go. Rapidly I listed everyone off. "My parents, my stupid brother, his wife, their four kids, all under seven, don't get me started, my brother's best friend Dean, probably a few randoms my mum will have invited to stay-"

"Wait," interrupted Bailey, "Dean? Dean-Dean? The Dean who-"

"Bailey," I warned. Bailey was the only person in my team who'd been around just after all the Dean stuff went down, but as grateful I was to Bailey for putting my pieces back together in the aftermath, I didn't need judgement right now. "I can vouch for these people, but if that's not good enough for you, you don't have to join us."

Bailey snorted. "Yeah, Simo, there's a bottle shop on the corner where you can stay and drown yourself in Pinot Noir and Glen Fiddich..."

"I'll join you," said Simon magnanimously. "You'll need a creative thinker."

We might, but we also didn't need a full-blown alcoholic drying out on the road. Deal with it later. Focus on what's under your control. I'd watched a TED talk by a Special Ops bomb defuser guy, and his method of staying calm had always resonated with me. Swallowing my internal grimace, I said, "Great, thanks Simon. Thirty-eight minutes, team. We've got stuff to do."

I delegated quickly. "Bailey, bring up the Google Maps route for between here and Port Melbourne by bicycle."

"Bike?" said Nev.

"Yes, Nev, unless you want to walk the whole way. You can help Bailey – make a note of each town and rest stop along the way. Both of you work out how long it will take us to get there if we ride for five hours, seven hours or ten hours a day. Print the maps off in the greatest detail you can."

I turned to the others. "Simon, you're with me – we're going to find bikes and gather supplies. Rueben, can you please call your friend with the yacht and make sure it's still where you expect it to be? Then Google what you need to know about sailing between Melbourne and Hobart and email it through to our office address so Nev can print it off."

He nodded, but his pause was loaded. "I will, but I need to tell you... Mischa - she's who I'm bringing with us – she's waiting for me at home, so I need to go and pick her up. Is there somewhere I can meet you? We can bring our own bikes."

Somehow I knew what Mischa would look like; a flawless Russian princess-type. Rueben was a young, reasonably attractive executive. It was practically legislated for him to have a swanky ocean-front apartment, and a blonde gf with white teeth who spent an inordinate amount of time in Pilates classes. "Where is your place?"

"Coogee. On the beach."

Ha. Knew it. "Coogee is fifteen minutes by car, but we don't know what the roads will be like or how long the fuel will work for. If you have to walk, it's about an hour and a half, or at least that's how long it takes me." I said it as though I often strolled to the beach, but the truth was I'd done it once the previous summer to meet a friend for gelato during a public transport strike. "Go get Mischa, and we'll meet you at the Great Outdoors Warehouse, the one on the other side of the airport. We'll wait until 2pm – that gives you more than enough time to get there, grab some stuff and get back. Pack light, move quick."

"Okay." He stood, and I was overcome with a powerful awareness of his body; long, lean limbs beneath his suit, a broad chest. He wasn't tall, only an inch or so on me in my heels, but his bearing was pervasive. I felt safe. Mischa is a lucky girl.

He reached for my hand and squeezed my fingers, just as I'd done for him earlier. "I'll be back. We can do this."

Twisting my hand free, I deflected. "Go get your girl." The statement sounded pointed, petty, so I added, "Does anyone else have somebody they need to collect?"

Simon shook his head sullenly; I knew for a fact he didn't have any family or friends in town – or anywhere else. Bailey snorted, their usual method of communicating vexation. From what I'd heard about their family, death by snail bites wouldn't have been too slow or painful for that lot.

But Nev whimpered. "My Bella. She's so little, and you know she'll never survive on her own, not like a husky or one of those German Shepherd things..."

Everyone except Rueben groaned. "Who's Bella?" he asked.

Nev whipped out her still-working phone. "Bella's a Pomeranian, a pedigree Pomeranian. She's my baby, and she has an Insta following of fifty thousand."

The idiotic fluffball appeared on her screen and Nev began to cry. "I can't leave her..."

Argh. "Nev, help Bailey with the maps, and you can collect Bella from the dog daycare centre on the way out of town."

"Oh, yay!" Her tears disappeared, and she grabbed Bailey by the hand. "Come on, B, let's go!"

"We should go too," I said, gesturing to Simon. "Before the EFTPOS machines are shut down and we can't buy anything."

"I'll come," said Rueben. "My car is out the front."

"You two, work until the power goes, then meet us at the Warehouse, okay?" I left Bailey and Nev, hoping like hell they'd work like their lives depended on it – because they just might.

Simon and Rueben followed me out the door and into the Sydney spring sunshine, and immediately we ground to a halt, taking in the chaos of the end of the world.