"No. No, no, no, no." I didn't have words for a moment; all logical thought had abandoned me as I stared in horror at the knife.

"I think I need to sit down," said Simon, his voice far too calm.

"Okay. Okay." I reached for his elbow and led him over to nearest seating, a cushy foldout chair placed at the edge of the clearing. Swiftly, I spun it around to face away from where Lachie's body lay. His body. I'd never seen a dead body before, and now there was one right next to the tents where my friends were sleeping and Nev's legs hung out of the flap in the open air.

One problem at a time. Supporting Simon as best I could, I helped him to sit, watching the knife handle waver dangerously. He groaned deeply as he lowered into the chair and leaned back. "Ah, shit."

"Simon, we have to do something," I said, my brain finally whirring back into life like a rebooted hard drive. If my phone still worked, I would have googled whether to pull the knife out or leave it in – wasn't that what killed Steve Irwin? Yanking out the barb? – but without the input from a higher source of knowledge, I was helpless.

"Do what?" he said mildly.

"I don't know..."

"Well, you can start by bringing me a drink." He indicated with his head where the bottle he'd thrown at Lachie had fallen. "I think there was a shot left in there."

Numbly, I padded across the clearing in my bare feet, retrieving the bottle, refusing to look at Lachie's body.

Simon accepted the bottle gratefully, lifting it to his lips and draining it. "Ah. That's better."

"I'm going to wake up Rueben," I said, starting to shake.

"You can try," said Simon. "But it's not going to make a difference."

"He's a doctor."

"He's a head doctor." Simon pointed at the knife. "I don't think therapy is going to fix this."

"We have to do something. Get you to a hospital."

"How? I can't ride, love, and we are a thousand k's from a hospital, and that's if there's any still functioning without power. Even if we find somewhere, there's nothing they can do except keep me comfortable. I don't want to die of long, painful, sepsis-related death on an abandoned gurney in a backwater clinic. That's no way to go."

I started to cry without realising, my eyes running, tracking dirty trails down my cheeks. "So, what do we do?" No ambulance. No doctors. No surgeries. No options.

Simon reached for my hand. "You can sit here and keep me company."

"I can do that."

So that's what we did. Time had ceased to have any meaning as we held hands and spoke about inconsequential things. How well Chookie was doing on the road. Why mosquitos seemed to target some people and not others. Whether nature would recover itself now that mankind had begun to self-destruct.

The sky began to lighten, so gently, I thought I was imagining it. A deep purple stained the tree line, and I realised that we were seated at the edge of a lookout. In the dark, we hadn't noticed it, but dawn was bringing light over a vast valley that undulated away from us in dusky waves.

"Beautiful," said Simon, awed. He coughed, and the sound was wretched.

"Are you in pain?"

"Not really. I think whatever they dosed me with is helping."

"Ketamine, apparently."

"Ah, that would explain it. I used to micro-dose with that stuff. Probably why I woke up and the others didn't."

"You used to take Ketamine recreationally?"

"Dark years. Before I started working for you."

I nodded. "If you hadn't woken up, I'd probably be dead. And Nev..."

"I know. I'm not upset, love. Don't cry."

"It's not fair."

"I know. But I was on my way out anyway. At least I got to do something brave before the end."

"You were magnificent." I squeezed his hand. "The bards will sing of your deeds for years, and your name will echo around the Tasmanian hills."

"I like the sound of that." He coughed again, his breath growing more ragged.

I wiped my eyes angrily. "I knew we couldn't trust those bastards. We never should have let them in. Never again."

"Nah, love, don't say that. You gotta trust people, even when some of them are out to screw you over. You'll never find the good ones if you block everyone out."

"Simon..."

"I saved your life. I get to demand promises. Promise me you'll give people a chance."

"I promise."

"And Chookie. You have to take care of Chookie."

"I will."

"And Nev..." His brow creased. "Tell her she's a good girl. That I'm glad she wasn't here for this. She'll be upset, blame herself. Make sure she understands that I would have done the same thing a thousand times over if it meant she was safe."

"I'll let her know."

The sky was growing brighter, the golden light catching the tips of a million leaves. "I think I can see the pink lake from here," said Simon, his voice growing fainter.

We were at least a hundred k's from the pink lake; there was no way it was still within visual range. "Yeah, I think I see it too."

The birds grew noisier, singing us an ancient song of birth and death and rebirth, the dawn after every dusk.

"Don't cry, love. I'm okay."

"No, you're not. This is fucked. It's my fault. My knife..."

"Your knife saved the day. If he wasn't stabbed already, I wouldn't have been able to stop him. You can play the what-if game forever, love, but it doesn't change anything. What if I'd never started drinking? What if I never drove that night with my kids in the car? What if the world hadn't ended?"

"If the world hadn't ended, this wouldn't be happening. The world is all fucked up and none of it is right."

"I don't have any regrets. If the world hadn't ended, I would have died a long and shitty death of liver cancer. Instead, I've drunk the liquor of kings, had a wild adventure, seen some of the most beautiful parts of the country. Saved a life. Found my clan. It's more than I deserve. I'm happy."

"It's not fair."

"Nope. But it's right, somehow."

The sun had managed to crest the skyline, brilliant pink and gold light streaming over the valley. Simon said, "Beautiful. I'm a lucky man."

"I love you, Simon."

"I love you too, Karla." He gave my fingers a final squeeze. "I think I'll just close my eyes and rest for a while."

"You do that. I'll be right here."

His eyes drifted shut, a content smile on his face. I stayed with him, holding his hand as the sun rose, as his fingers fell limp and his head nodded forward. I was still there hours later, waiting with him, holding vigil, just in case his spirit needed reassurance that he was loved and he had mattered, as it made its way out over the trees and into the new day.

***

"I'm not leaving until we bury him." Nev hugged Bella in her arms, the little dog panting and squirming from being squeezed. Nev's face was set and her eyes were dry. "He spent his whole life feeling like the world threw him away. I'm not leaving him beside the road like a piece of garbage."

Bailey, Rueben and I looked at each other, trying like hell to decide what was 'right' in a world that didn't have rules anymore. Bailey rubbed their head; I knew they were still feeling the effects of being drugged, and it showed on their face.

The others had woken up about noon, confronted with a world that had been flipped on its arse. Two dead bodies, the theft of half our supplies, and a hundred decisions to make. Layered on top of that was the hangover from being dosed and the grief from losing one of our clan. No one was at their best or brightest.

Mischa seemed to sense something was going on, in that way that sensitive children sometimes intuited. She'd woken up a few hours before the others, but stayed inside the tent with a still-slumbering Rueben. She was still hiding in there now and reading a book, but I'd had enough sense to throw a tarp over Lachie's body and cover Simon with a sheet in case she ventured out.

Now, we needed to choose what to do next, with Nev adamant that Simon needed to be buried. Rueben spoke carefully. "Nev, we'd need a hole deep enough that animals wouldn't find him, and we don't have any equipment. The ground here is hard, and it would take us hours to dig out a grave. If Alyson comes back looking for Lachie, and we're still here-"

"Work it out," she interrupted. "Because I'm not leaving here without laying him to rest properly." Her eyes were hollows, and I could see that she wasn't going to be swayed.

I poked my sluggish brain with a stick, trying to get it to move and be useful. "There's a small shed beside the toilet block. Maybe there's some digging stuff in there."

Bailey nodded. "I'll go for a walk, see if there's some softer ground down the side of the hill."

"Nev, can you please check on Mish for me?" Rueben asked.

"Okay."

She walked away, her shoulders slumped, and Rueben followed me to the shed. He said, "How are you holding up?"

I shook my head. "I can't talk about it yet. There's too much to do."

His hand found my shoulder. "I just want you to know... I saw the wound, the angle of the knife. There's nothing anyone could have done for him. Even if we'd rushed him straight to hospital, it wouldn't have made a difference."

"Good, I guess." I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing more, not immediately, but it helped to hear that I could have been the world's most amazing problem solver with all the best resources available to me, and the outcome still would have been the same.

The shed was locked, but we found a loose panel at the back and pried our way inside. In the dark interior, we found rolls of toilet paper, some basic cleaning supplies, and a collection of poles in the back corner. We sorted through the stack: two brooms, a rusty axe, a mop that had seen some shit (literally), a worn pick and a short spade.

We claimed the pick and shovel, as well as some of the toilet paper rolls, then rejoined the others. Bailey had news. "I found a spot."

Halfway down the slope overlooking the valley, Bailey showed us a fallen tree, its root bed sticking up vertically into the sky, a giant earthy arc. "The dirt is soft because all the roots have been ripped up. It should be pretty easy to dig deep enough here."

"Actually," I said, cautiously testing the tension of the branches, which were still green and springy, "we may not need to dig much at all... I have an idea, but I need the axe."

We took it in turns to shovel and pick, hawing away at the soft soil until we'd created a small void among the roots. It took all four of us to carry Simon down the hill, and we laid him gently in the grave, wrapping him in his sleeping bag.

Bailey laid the empty $50,000 bottle of scotch beside him, and Nev arranged flowers in his hair and beard. Rueben had drawn the knife out of Simon's chest, and I laid it at his heart like a nobleman's sword, closing his hands over the hilt. He looked like a sleeping warrior, the hint of a smile still on his face.

Rueben said, "I think... I think I should get Mish. She's going to want to say goodbye."

"Should we cover him first? This is a lot for an eight year old, Rueben."

"I know, but the world has changed, Karla. Simon probably won't be the only dead body she sees, but she loved him, and she deserves to see him if she wants to. I'll let her decide."

He left, returning with Mischa a few minutes later. She was hugging Bella, and Chookie followed them along like a balloon on a string.

She blinked as she saw Simon lying in the ground. "So, he's dead, like Burger?"

"Yes, honey. Like our old dog."

"And like grandma?"

"Yes."

"I don't want him to be dead," she said quietly, her lips trembling. "But I want to say goodbye."

Her small fingers found mine, and she led both of us to the edge of the grave. "Goodbye, Simon," she said loudly, as if he was just dozing. "You were funny and nice and kind to me and to animals. I will miss you."

She stepped back and looked at the rest of us. "Okay. Your turn."

We blinked. We hadn't discussed saying anything formal. Then Bailey spoke. "Simon, you were a crotchety old bugger who was always contrary just to piss people off – and if I'd grown up with a dad who accepted me the way that you did, who loved me without judging me and defended me and fought for me like you, then I would have been a lucky kid. I love you, mate. Rest easy."

Rueben stepped up. "Simon, you were a good bloke. You were proof that people can have their demons but still fight their way through to the light. Thank you for saving Karla. I can never repay you, but I'll never forget you."

I let my tears fall, tired of wiping them away, wanting to wear them as a sign of grief in lieu of renting my garments or covering mirrors. "Simon. Thank you. I know your life wasn't easy, and you felt like everyone you ever loved left you. But we loved you and we aren't leaving you. Not really. We'll keep you in our hearts and in our stories wherever the road leads. I hope your spirit finds the pink lake, and somewhere there's a comfy chair and a bottle of the good stuff waiting for you."

Nev spoke last. Still stoic, her affect was flat as she stepped up to the tree. "Why, you idiot? Why would you go and die on me? You are one of the only men I ever met who was worth loving. Now you're gone, and I can't even get mad because you saved us."

She cocked her head, as if listening to a reply. "Actually, screw that. I am mad at you. But I miss you too, so I guess it's both." She finally broke down, sobs racking her slender body, and Bailey held her close.

When the storm of tears had eased but not stopped, Nev lifted her swollen face, and said, "I love you, Simon. Thank you for being in my life."

We gently laid a towel over Simon's face, then covered him with soil as soft as bedding, tucking him in, ready for rest. Then I asked everyone to back off to a safe distance, and I hefted the axe at the thicker branches of the fallen tree. No one asked what I was doing or if they could help: this was something I owed Simon, and I was going to do it myself.

As I hacked a large branch free from the trunk, the tree began to shudder, and I knew my plan would work. Cutting one more bough away, the eucalypt gave a mighty groan, then appeared to defy gravity, lifting off the ground and righting itself, pulled by the weight of the massive root bed and its attached dirt.

The root bed thumped into place, and the tree shed a rainfall of leaves, littering the ground with the green foliage. I walked over to Mish and gave her a hug, explaining, "He'll be safe there under the roots, and as his body breaks down, he'll become part of the tree. We'll always know where he is, and one day if you like, we'll come back and visit him. Okay?"

"Okay." She turned her face up to the branches and called out, "Goodbye for now, Simon. Grow well."

"Grow well," I echoed, and together we stood for a moment beneath the branches of the rescued tree, saying goodbye to our friend.

It was only about four o'clock as we tramped back up the hill to the camp, but it felt like it should have been midnight. In silence, we packed up the camp. One bike gone, half of our supplies stolen, it didn't take long. I scooped up Chookie, placing her inside the crate with care, thankful that at least we'd have an egg a day, even with the rest of our food stores depleted.

Bailey approached. "What do you want to do with Lachie's body?"

Nev piped up. "Roll him off the road and leave him for the crows to eat."

I winced. "He was a bad person, but his mum loved him, and she'll come back for him. Let's put him in the spare tent."

"Simon's tent?"

"He doesn't need it anymore, Nev."

"It's better than that arsehole deserves."

"I know. But we'll do it because we're better people than he was."

Nev shook her head, defiant. "I'm not leaving Simon's tent. It was his, and I want it."

Bailey said, "What about if we roll him inside the tarp and tuck the ends under? He should be fine for a few days, enough for his mum to find him. That's good enough."

So that's what we did, leaving the body beside the road like a forlorn package, waiting for a postal van that wasn't coming. As I turned to leave, I thought, You would have raped Nev. You were going to kill me. You murdered Simon. You were a little boy once, cheeky and innocent. How did it come to this?

Rueben approached me. "Where did his gun end up?"

"In my bag."

"Do you think that's safe?"

"Safer than leaving it here by the side of the road." I'd thought I'd feel revulsion having a weapon that had very recently killed someone in my backpack, but its weight was weirdly reassuring. I would honour my promise to Simon: I would keep letting people in, but I wasn't going to do it unarmed.

Rueben reached for my hand. "We need to get on the road. We don't want to be here if anyone comes looking for him."

"I know."

We walked over to the bikes, and I noted the sober mood. Gazing over the ridge, I could see the branches of the righted tree peeping up, waving to us gently in a fresh breeze.

"Bye, Simon," I whispered, and with that, we left, riding in a straight line spread across the road, as if by keeping each other close, we could drive away any further darkness that awaited us.