Scattered around the city are the traces of people who have come and gone. These scraps of information may just prove to be the key to finding the antidote...



journal #2

Trackers searching the remains of UQ found a recording down next to the river...


So… At first it was fun. Sure there was something weird going on, but we lived in our dorms, the meals were still coming and we thought that Australia would be the last place to be affected. Well, we were right about that: Australia was last affected, but by then we had seen the news, we had tracked the spread of the virus around the world and we had seen the lengths that the government were willing to go to, to stop it coming here. We saw the navy roll out. And, we saw the footage of the same ships coming back on fire, leaning to one side. We saw the air force bomb the hell out of those ships and we cheered at the tele when we saw them sink to the bottom of the ocean. We hoped we would be safe.

And then, reality hit. We never did find out how it arrived, some of the others guessed that a stray boat must have drifted onto a beach up north, probably from Indonesia or Papua New Guinea. You know, one of those countries that turned red on the little maps they have on the news.

Of course, mass panic followed and people began to hoard food and barricade their homes. Our college was abandoned pretty quick as students were called home by their parents who were freaking out. Our parents were freaking out, too, but our small group has to stay behind. There was no point trying to escape once the planes had stopped flying and the petrol pumps had stopped pumping. Funnily enough, it turned out that we were / are the safe ones. The fence surrounding the college is strong and the seven of us spent days and weeks ensuring that every possible opening was covered and fortified. We live in a fort of our own creation. It's actually a little bit cool.

So, for now we're safe. Well, six of us are. But... the industrial kitchen that used to have heaps of food is now looking pretty bare. All the dorm rooms have all been ransacked for the last remaining packets of migoreng and tim tams. We know that eventually, well, soon we will have to venture outside. We also heard that a bunch of scientists created an antidote right before the country was overrun. We know it’s out there, and at some point, I guess we’re going to have to be prepared to find it…

 




journal #1

In the sewers beneath the city, a single recording is found...


It began with a whisper. Small occurrences in scientific labs dotted across the country. The newspaper reports began not long after; tiny print in large broadsheets, opened onto the fifth page. But slowly, weeks after the first reports came through, the print became larger, the headlines creeping to the front page. Until the inevitable happened and the newspapers stopped printing at all.

To say that society disintegrated was an understatement. Tribalism was the new law, governed not by the smartest or the most powerful, but by the fastest, the most resourceful. Groups formed and were crushed almost as quickly by an ever-present, ever-growing enemy. Factions of people lived in darkened skyscrapers, feeding off the scraps of humanity left in cobwebbed cupboards, in kitchens where the taps no longer provided any water. Even more lived in the forests and mountains, in tent cities where the only fortifications were the trees.

Rumour of an antidote was quick to follow. It spread, through the skyscrapers and cities, across the radio waves to the last remaining radios, it crackled through the forests, and silently knocked on the boarded up windows of homes long since broken. Humanity’s hope was contained in a small vial, hidden somewhere in the pitted remains of a city. My only question still remains unanswered: who will be left to find it?