Remember.

Josephine begins to wake. A loud bleating forcefully filling her ears as she attempts to open her eyes. A thick layer of dust and grit sealing them closed. She forces her eyes open as an involuntary panic shivers over her cold, depleted body. She remembers.

"RUN" a foreign and raspy voice blasts into her ear. His cold and calloused hand grabs her right shoulder, reefing her to her feet. Her feet are sore, tender, and she feels a cool wetness forming around her toes. "Get up girl, get up. HURRY!" Impatience and terror boom from the man. She remembers.

The bleating increases. It sharpens and pierces her ears like finger nails on a school blackboard. The hairs on her neck stand at attention. Her thoughts stray momentarily. She can hear the sweet and soft words from Mrs Maclean, her beloved English teacher, of whom reciprocated her love for books and the faraway lands they could lose themselves in. She wonders if she will ever see her warm and unassuming smile again. She wonders if she remembers.

Josephine gazes around. A heavy, depressing, grey mist has settled. It's all around her, and all around the trees, and all around the rocks. Its thick, claustrophobic, like diving into the bottom of a dark swimming pool late at night. The memory passes fast and Josephine looks to the blurred path in from of them. They must be in the Woodling State Forest, they have to be! But that is almost fifty miles from her home in Gordonville. The mist begins to disorientate her thoughts and her vision and she loudly screams "NO". She remembers.

The mans hard and bony hand aggressively covers her mouth. "What are you doing girl? Shut that little mouth and lets get those colt legs moving!" His voice is gentle now, and almost familiar. She can not see him clearly but she pictures grey streaky hair and a strawberry looking pink nose, somewhat like Santa. He must have a jolly face but perhaps wearing a red flannelette shirt as opposed to Santa's red, plush, velvet coat.

Josephine notices the mist changing. Her eyes widen. The mist pulses. It moves. It's breathing. It has a life of its own. The mist clears a little and then she sees them. People. Like her. But not. Dazed, aimless, walking in no particular direction. Their eyes are white and their skin is black. Like they have been cooked from the inside out. She doesn't like how they make her feel. They are empty and soulless, tortured within their nothingness. They are "the wanderers". They don't remember.

Josephine and the man run. They are running fast and hard. Her heart is pounding throughout her body and her breath struggling, short and shallow. Through the mist they run, past the wanderers and further down the path, abruptly changing course when the screeching and bleating becomes louder. Yes, they are "the bleaters". She remembers.

Finally, they stop running. Amongst the panic and haste, and all the remembering, she had forgotten something. Just one thing. She had forgotten what she had been holding in her hand. Gripping it ever so tightly, she knew it was guiding her. She looks down to her right hand. A small and salty tear forms in her left eye. Her white knuckles, relentless in their fight to hold on, desperately sealed closed. Peeling each finger away, her eyes widen as she gazes upon the gold heart-shaped locket. It was as if she was seeing it for the very first time. An overwhelming sensation of love and warmth fills her body and just for a moment, the bleating stops. And she breathes. Finally. She can breathe.

Now Josephine remembers. The day it began. The day of "the change". It was a calm day. A light musical wind, a gentle sunshine softly kissing her skin, the birds chirping happily, and quiet conversations among her family. She was helping her mother hang out the washing. Crisp white sheets. The perfect representation of her mothers OCD. "No Josie darling, pegs in the corners, we don't want marks in the middle." Josephine lovingly rolls her eyes and looks away. Her gaze reaches the paddock to see Mason her horse, beautifully tanned and elegant, chewing on some grass. It's almost time for school. A place of joy for Josephine. The library, the books and their pages. And Mrs Maclean of course, the only person there who truly understands her. She can hear her brother Billy and her father in the shed talking with Uncle John. He's been helping out on the farm since Aunt Em passed away from cancer three years ago. It 's nearly that time of year when they would start redoing the fences and harvesting the crops. "It's going to be a good year." her father would say. But he would say this every year, and her mother would always laugh and smile politely. Josephine is remembering.

Mason begins to move unnaturally in the corner of Josephine's eye, a tantalizing whip of his tail as he nae's loudly and runs frantically in circles. The birds once chirping turning into an invasive squawking as they fly around directionless. Then came the mist, so much mist. Moving and filling every space, of everywhere. And finally ... they came. Tall, obnoxiously tall, towering above and looking down onto the earth with their piercing yellow predatory eye. And dark, so many shades of black and grey. A beacon of danger, shiny and reflective. But Josephine will never forget their mouths. Oozing with a green gelatin substance as if to be salivating for the earth. Rows of teeth, in formation like front-line soldiers, trigger happy and ready to charge. They screech, the sound obtrusively bleating in Josephine's ears, warning their arrival. The "bleaters" cluster together, their many legs intertwine. So many of them. They move fast, so fast. It's hard to tell what they are doing but one thing is for certain. They are taking over. Josephine hears her mother scream and they run.

Josephine remembers. She must get to Mount Hootha. That is where they told her to go. That was the last message on the radio. There they will find a hidden place, to help them remember, to always remember. There they will be safe. There is no mist, and the "bleaters" can't find them. She can her mothers voice "Josie, hold on to this. Don't ever let it go. Let it help you to remember darling. And let it remind you every day of how much I love you. Don't look back. Just run. I am always with you." That was the last time she saw her mother. And her father. And her brother. She remembers now how they tried to flee in their beaten up Ford pick-up truck but had swerved to miss those already "wandering". They collided with an old oak tree and were badly hurt. She is sure her father and Billy were already dead. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do, leave her mother. But she knew she had to. In this moment, she had never felt more grateful that Uncle John was with her.

Josephine remembers. That every day she must remember. When she closes her eyes, she must re-open them and endure the pain and torture of remembering. She knows, that if she doesn't remember, she too will become a "wanderer" and the "bleaters" win. She longs for her mother, for her father, even her annoying and hyperactive brother. She longs to rest, to close her eyes, falling deep into a slumber that she will comfortably wake from to find love and beauty all around her. Josephine knows, that until she gets to Mount Hootha, she will need to remember. Again. And again. To survive.