Driving the old sedan through the apparition of the Mornington Peninsula, Redman couldn’t help but feel more than a little spooked. He’d come from there, after all, before the collapse of society on the surface. His family had tried to stick it out, living in a bunker underneath their Red Hill property. Eventually, though, supplies had run out and they had to make for the rumoured underground haven.
So he knew exactly what the Mornington Peninsula had looked like in the last days. It was nothing like this illusion. Add a few hundred giant cockroaches and some scorched earth, then maybe it would be more accurate.
His father had believed that as a professional plumber, he could take on the giant roaches and get them to safety. Unfortunately, he was little more than a senile old man at that point – one who hadn’t done a commercial gutter cleaning in over a decade, let alone dealt with a cockroach infestation. Redman wasn’t even sure if plumbers usually dealt with cockroaches. That seemed more like a job for someone in pest control. It was no real surprise when the cockroaches tore his father to shreds with their forearms, then flew off before the rest of the family could even land a hit on them.
These days, if you needed hot water repairs close to Melbourne, you certainly wouldn’t be asking for Albert Redman.
The memory was a painful one, causing Redman to exhale deeply. Why did the passcode have to involve commercial plumbing services? Why couldn’t it have been anything else?
As he drew closer to the property of 35 Boulevard Drive, Redman kept a close eye out for anything suspicious. Mavis’ note had been distinctly out of character for her. As a result, he had to be prepared for the possibility of this being a trap of some kind.
Better to be suspicious and have there be nothing to worry about than to walk into a trap without expecting it.