Volume II - Episode 88 Where: Melbourne, Australia When: 1 month and 3 days after E-Day, 11:47 am For a cripplingly shy computer nerd like me, the thought of walking into a crowded room was just about the most terrifying experience imaginable. And that’s exactly what I had to do. I needed food - fresh food - both for myself and for the little girl I’d stumbled across in the house in Quinn Hill. The little girl living completely alone on a diet of chocolate and potato chips. The thought of taking responsibility for her filled me with a kind of selfish dread. But the thought of abandoning her to her fate made me feel even worse. How could I live with myself as a human being, knowing that I could’ve helped a little girl, yet did nothing? What kind of person would that make me? It was all I’d been able to think about all night. The little girl, living alone in her own filth, barely able to look after herself. The little girl...and then the signs I’d seen along Kempson Highway earlier in the day. APOCALYPTIC CO-OP MARKET. NUNAWADING TOWN HALL. WE HAVE FRESH FOOD! And so here I was, standing outside the large double doors of the Nunawading Town Hall, trying desperately to summon the courage to pull them open and step inside. I could hear laughter and muted conversation on the other side of the thick wooden doors. The sounds of socialising. The sounds of humans being humans. Humans who would, undoubtedly, want to engage in small talk with “the new guy” and ask me lots of questions. All eyes would be on me. They’d see me. They’d see my social incompetence and awkward posture; see me stumbling for words; see my face turning bright red; the sweat rolling freely down my forehead as my nervousness took hold. I shivered. With any luck, there would only be a couple of people inside the hall. With a bit of effort I could summon the courage to talk to a couple of people. Field their questions. Be polite and ask questions in return. Two people wouldn’t be too overwhelming for me. Three at the most. At the very, very most. Failing that, the next best thing would be for the hall to be absolutely, positively crammed to the brim with people. A crowd for me to vanish within. To remain unnoticed. Inconspicuous. Able to engage with people only when required, and only on my own terms. The absolute worst case scenario? For there to be only around a half dozen people inside. Six pairs of eyes upon me; just enough to be overwhelmed by. There would be blushing and stammering and sweating. There would be no escape. Suddenly I needed to go to the bathroom. The morning’s stinking slurry of blood-soaked shit had left me feeling cramped and uncomfortable, and the nerves were making me feel even worse. I wanted to get out of there. I wanted to go back to the enormous house I’d spent the night in and lock myself in the bathroom where I could be alone and nobody would see me. But instead of that, I pushed open the double doors open and stepped into the hall. There were about half a dozen people inside. Of course. And every one of them had turned to stare at me.