The Lost Journal (A Secret Apocalypse Story) by James Harden Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Harden
him first. He pointed down to the street, towards the back of the line. "Check that guy out. Looks jumpy as hell."
I looked through the scope on my rifle down at the street below. The guy Drake had pointed out kept checking over his shoulder. He kept looking back down the road, and then up at the sniffer dog team that was slowly but surely making their way towards him.
"Yeah he looks pretty nervous," I said, agreeing with Drake’s assessment. "You think he’ll put up a fight?"
Before Drake could answer me, the guy bolted.
The troops on the ground shouted out to him, ordering him to stop. But the guy ignored them and kept running. Even when they told him they would shoot. He kept running.
I aimed my rifle at the man. I had a clean shot. I could take him out if I wanted to. Not that I did want to.
I lowered my aim slightly. I was confident I could clip him in the leg. Put him down without seriously injuring him. Yeah, I thought. That was the better option. There was no need for more bloodshed. Not after what happened yesterday.
I was just about to squeeze the trigger. But I never got the chance. The soldiers on the ground opened fire. They didn’t lower their aim. They didn’t fire a warning shot.
The man fell in the street, face forward. He skidded for a few feet before coming to rest in the gutter.
The other people lining up were all shocked into silence. A few of them ran out of fear. They just took off. Most of them were tackled to the ground and taken away. But a couple ran down the side streets and completely disappeared.
News of the shooting spread quickly through the small town. Anger and panic followed.
Security has been increased throughout the township. By night fall we had a squad on every block, making sure everyone kept indoors. Making sure there were no riots.
People have been ordered to remain in their homes, or risk being shot on sight. The perimeter of the quarantine area was reinforced with more troops. Machine gun bunkers were set up right around the outskirts of the town.
This is bad. The whole town is on edge. So are the troops.
This isn’t a babysitting job anymore.
January 24th – Hell on Earth
We’re back.
Finally.
And after a grueling two days on patrol the last thing I feel like doing is writing in this goddamn journal.
But I have to.
I have to get this down on the page. Maybe then it won’t sound so crazy. Maybe then I won’t feel like I’m losing my mind.
Firstly, the day after the shooting, we were ordered to supervise more testing - this time within the immigration center.
The Woomera immigration center looked a bit like a prison complex. It had a couple of perimeter fences that were topped with razor wire. There were even gun towers at each corner of the compound.
There were two main warehouse type buildings where the refugees were housed. Or kept hostage as prisoners, depending on how you viewed the situation.
Initially the plan was to conduct more testing within this area. But then they closed it off completely.
They sent in the guys in the bright yellow HAZMAT suits and one of the main buildings was draped in huge sheet of plastic.
We were told this area no longer concerned us.
And for a fleeting moment I thought maybe we were going to be sent home.
No such luck.
We were sent out on patrol. A lot of fireteams were sent out. It was basically a long line of soldiers that stretched for miles. The idea was to sweep the area between the town and the target area.
We were to look for anyone who had broken through the quarantine.
We were authorized to use deadly force if necessary.
There had been reports of people packing up their things and making a run for it. Apparently they were younger males, between the ages of 20 and 25. They had come out here for work. Cattle farming, coal mining. Anything they could get their hands on. The reason a young male would come all the way out here for work?
The pay.
The pay was extremely good. Especially work in the
I looked through the scope on my rifle down at the street below. The guy Drake had pointed out kept checking over his shoulder. He kept looking back down the road, and then up at the sniffer dog team that was slowly but surely making their way towards him.
"Yeah he looks pretty nervous," I said, agreeing with Drake’s assessment. "You think he’ll put up a fight?"
Before Drake could answer me, the guy bolted.
The troops on the ground shouted out to him, ordering him to stop. But the guy ignored them and kept running. Even when they told him they would shoot. He kept running.
I aimed my rifle at the man. I had a clean shot. I could take him out if I wanted to. Not that I did want to.
I lowered my aim slightly. I was confident I could clip him in the leg. Put him down without seriously injuring him. Yeah, I thought. That was the better option. There was no need for more bloodshed. Not after what happened yesterday.
I was just about to squeeze the trigger. But I never got the chance. The soldiers on the ground opened fire. They didn’t lower their aim. They didn’t fire a warning shot.
The man fell in the street, face forward. He skidded for a few feet before coming to rest in the gutter.
The other people lining up were all shocked into silence. A few of them ran out of fear. They just took off. Most of them were tackled to the ground and taken away. But a couple ran down the side streets and completely disappeared.
News of the shooting spread quickly through the small town. Anger and panic followed.
Security has been increased throughout the township. By night fall we had a squad on every block, making sure everyone kept indoors. Making sure there were no riots.
People have been ordered to remain in their homes, or risk being shot on sight. The perimeter of the quarantine area was reinforced with more troops. Machine gun bunkers were set up right around the outskirts of the town.
This is bad. The whole town is on edge. So are the troops.
This isn’t a babysitting job anymore.
January 24th – Hell on Earth
We’re back.
Finally.
And after a grueling two days on patrol the last thing I feel like doing is writing in this goddamn journal.
But I have to.
I have to get this down on the page. Maybe then it won’t sound so crazy. Maybe then I won’t feel like I’m losing my mind.
Firstly, the day after the shooting, we were ordered to supervise more testing - this time within the immigration center.
The Woomera immigration center looked a bit like a prison complex. It had a couple of perimeter fences that were topped with razor wire. There were even gun towers at each corner of the compound.
There were two main warehouse type buildings where the refugees were housed. Or kept hostage as prisoners, depending on how you viewed the situation.
Initially the plan was to conduct more testing within this area. But then they closed it off completely.
They sent in the guys in the bright yellow HAZMAT suits and one of the main buildings was draped in huge sheet of plastic.
We were told this area no longer concerned us.
And for a fleeting moment I thought maybe we were going to be sent home.
No such luck.
We were sent out on patrol. A lot of fireteams were sent out. It was basically a long line of soldiers that stretched for miles. The idea was to sweep the area between the town and the target area.
We were to look for anyone who had broken through the quarantine.
We were authorized to use deadly force if necessary.
There had been reports of people packing up their things and making a run for it. Apparently they were younger males, between the ages of 20 and 25. They had come out here for work. Cattle farming, coal mining. Anything they could get their hands on. The reason a young male would come all the way out here for work?
The pay.
The pay was extremely good. Especially work in the
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