What Lies Within: Chronicles of Jack

By Barry Pittman

In a decaying city, evil walks among those who survive. Is it the devil? Or has humanity died? Except in a few isolated individuals. As a former police officer who survived the virus and the riots, Jack now ekes out an existence in the former tourist Mecca of the Gold Coast. But his humanity lives on and benefits those he encounters. He risks his life and security, along with the little food and water he could scrounge, by saving others. Will their humanity surprise him?
Ignoring the folly of their expedition, as evidenced by multiple dystopian movies, this chronicle narrates the journey by Jack and his tribe to utopia.
The chronicles of Jack follows the earlier journey by Fiona in 'What Lies Within: Chronicles of Max'.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Pittman
• Release date: Nov 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005015664

Barry Pittman

Reader and writer of adventures

Book preview

What Lies Within

Chronicles of Jack

By

BJ Pittman

Joanne XOXO

© 2021, Barry John Pittman (BJ Pittman).

Except as provided by the Australian Copyright Act Copyright Act 1968, along with various court decisions that have interpreted copyright over the years. no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Thank you to my Alpha and Beta readers and all editors involved. Any errors are down to my interpretation and not a reflection on their advice or professional services.

This chronicle follows

In every man's heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused.

James Oliver Curwood

CHAPTER ONE

Rape! The word rocked through me, pushing me physically upright and out of my troubled sleep. This shouldn’t be happening, not since… I shut down the memories. The food riots, the murders, endless death, I refused to remember. It’s been months since the nightmares, and the blackouts, but there was no disputing… the sweat running down my back, the clammy hands, feeling nauseated. I had left this all behind months ago.

Memories flashed through my mind, of her shirt being ripped open. They tore apart her bra, hands attacked her breasts, her jeans forced undone…. I fell back onto the bed, still clammy with sweat brought on by my guilt, from the shame of my reaction when she was…. I was unwilling to close my eyes and risk re-entering my subconscious. Instead, I looked around the room I had commandeered. The dim, pre-dawn grey showed little of its former opulence.

I had cleared all the bodies out of the sixteenth floor on top of a unit block that faced the beachfront at Broadbeach on the Gold Coast. The best unit, overlooking the ocean and the beach, was empty of bodies when I arrived. Unit sixteen hundred and four had less of a lingering death smell and it benefited from the sea breezes. It was almost tolerable, except on hot days when the wind, and the smell, boiled off the decaying city.

This was where I lived before our world ended. Though in a more economy-priced unit with mediocre views on a much lower floor. I had certainly traded up. This unit was formerly owned by investors and used by holidaymakers. It was probably still owned by those investors. If they turn up, I will move on, but I’m not expecting that to happen anytime soon.

I froze at a sound. What the hell was that?

It could have been the breeze on the glass doors that led onto the balcony. Or perhaps it was my imagination. But maybe it wasn’t in my head.

I pulled a pistol from under my pillow and rushed to the bedroom door. The noise didn’t come again, but I wasn’t taking any chances. After many years’ experience with broaching doors and hallways, I had a system down pat. Opinions vary as to the best technique. For me, the best plan was silent and fast, alternating between crouching and standing to keep anyone watching from being able to lock in on me.

I followed the short hallway that spilled out into the dining area. There was no sound or movement in the semi-darkness, but my gut detected a presence in the shadows.

I froze behind the table as I felt, more than heard, the catch of a breath. The sound was barely a movement in the stillness, but it was there. Something, someone, skulked in the kitchen beyond the central island. Without letting the black-on-black shadow out of sight, my eyes flicked left and right, looking over the rest of the unit. The bulky faux leather lounge suite faced the ocean, now bathed in the glimpse of sun that was peeking over the horizon. No one hid there. There was nowhere else to hide in the sparsely furnished living space.

The rising sun fed the strengthening light that crept towards the kitchen. The confrontation was coming to a head as the shadows retreated. We both chose the same moment to move. When the light nipped at the deeper shadow, I leapt past the dining table. My gun was out ahead of me in a two-handed stance. I yelled, Freeze!

In the same heartbeat, she threw herself toward me with my large calving knife outstretched before her. Well, not my knife, but it belonged to the unit. There was no recognition in her deep brown eyes, but there was sure to be recognition in mine. Her hair, the curve of her cheek, her eyes flashing with fear. It was all there as my mind filled in her bare breasts, heaving as hands pulled her