In Strange Worlds

by Brenda Cheers

  Opposite reception was a restaurant which she glanced into. Linen tablecloths, gleaming cutlery and shining glassware — all high quality.

  It was the cabin she was most interested in, and when she opened the door and smelled the freshness of the interior, she knew she'd come to the right place. It boasted an enclosed fireplace with glass door, a huge shower recess with two shower heads, a timber spa-bath, air-conditioning, fluffy robes and slippers, and best of all; a king bed with crisp, white sheets. It even had a kitchenette with microwave oven.

  The only wash she'd had on the entire road trip was her brief swim in the ocean. Excitedly, she threw off her clothes and let the hot water of the shower soothe her travel-weary limbs.

  The cabin door was still open, so she closed it in case of hungry dogs. She walked into the bedroom and within minutes was between the sheets and deeply asleep.

  In the restaurant she made a decision to throw out any of the food that might have had its freshness compromised by power outages or time that had elapsed.

  She found a garbage bag and threw most of the contents of the refrigerators into it. Fish, beef, chicken, pork and duck were all sacrificed. She decided the eggs could stay, as well as some salmon which had been sealed by cryovac and had a use by date in the future.

  Some tomatoes were still passable and the parmesan cheese looked as though she could take a chance on it. Soon she had a delicious omelette on a plate. She wished she had some fresh bread to go with it.

  There were some pieces of fruit in a bowl that she juiced and, as she surveyed her feast, she felt something close to contentment.

  "I'm really happy at this resort. I know it's temporary — I need to move on and find a place that generates its own power and has a water supply, but for the time being I feel very good here.

  After my long sleep I woke with a picture in my mind of what my new home will be, and the words 'rammed-earth' came to mind. The block it's built on will be several acres in size and the house will sit on it as if it sprouted from the soil. It will be a single-story dwelling with verandas all the way around.

  Today I will rest and explore the village of Maleny. Tomorrow I will begin the search for my new home.

  Although I feel moments of happiness, they are fleeting. Soon I am plunged back into thoughts of all the loved ones I've lost. I think 'why me?' and sometimes this takes me to a dark place where my sanity is threatened. I must stay away from that place. I must make the choice to be positive, somehow.

  My subconscious wants me to be positive. It sends me thoughts. While I was waking from that long sleep in the gorgeous bed, I was remembering what Angela, my boss, told me once. It was after she'd seen the results of my psychometric test and called me in for an interview. She told me she'd never once seen this test fail in all the years she'd been using it, and she used it on hundreds of people a year. "Your results show you are capable of quick improvisation. You are innovative and intuitive." My face must've registered disbelief and she laughed. "No, it's true. Let me guess, you're just out of a bad relationship, are you?" I nodded. "Your man was a bit of a bastard — hurt your self-esteem?" I felt tears forming. "It's okay honey. I see it all the time. Believe me when I say that someday you'll look back on this part of your life and laugh. But this," she tapped the report. "This doesn't lie. You have exactly the same profile as several of my best-ever P.A's. That's why I've called you in here. I need you."

  Angela was there for me from day one, boosting my self-image, buying me a gym membership, giving me vouchers for beauty treatments. She sent me to a wardrobe consultant who showed me what style of clothing to wear to suit my unusual build. When I saw the results in the mirror, I could hardly believe my eyes. Longer legs, smaller bum, well-proportioned chest — I looked normal!

  Within six months I was better than I'd been at any stage of my life. I was rewarded one day when I collected Nicholas and Emily from Richard's house. I normally had to deal with Lucy, but this time Richard was home and came out to ask me a question. He stopped in his tracks and looked me up and down. I saw his eyebrows rise and a lazy smile come to his lips. I knew that expression — it was one he had always used on other women. Attractive women. Do you know how good that made me feel?

  The psychometric test was right — I was a brilliant P.A. My job often required me to achieve the impossible for Angela and I always pulled through for her. I could pull rabbits out of hats like nobody else. Gee, I miss Angela — probably more than any other adult person I can think of.

  So I woke from my deep sleep with Angela's words in my head, reminding me that I'm special and can cope with situations that would normally throw other people out of kilter. It reminded me that I have a particular hard-wiring in my brain that will help me survive in this new world. I think I'm going to need it."

  Meg's days fell into a pattern. On waking she would check all the social media sites, emails and blogs, her disappointment at not finding any replies diluted by not really expecting any after all this time.

  A walk around the perimeter of the resort would come next, and she took comfort from feeling her strength returning. She enjoyed hearing her feet thud as she stepped across a small bridge that spanned a creek. Dogs didn't seem to be a problem in this region and she wondered if they were off attacking more tasty targets like cows and sheep.

  After breakfast and a shower she would spend an hour or so doing small jobs such as washing clothes or researching a topic. One morning she had to remove the stitches from her wound, a distasteful task, but one she managed without fuss, which surprised her.

  A newsagency provided a detailed map of the region. Meg used a pencil to divide the Maleny and Montville townships and surrounds into sections. Each day she would explore at least one of those areas thoroughly, searching for her perfect house. Some properties came close to meeting her needs and she made note of those. Only the ones that had their own water and power supplies were considered.

  Her daily search would last until at least mid-afternoon, and as her strength and stamina increased, she began extending her explorations until nearly nightfall.

  One day she spent time exploring the lake which nestled gently in the hills between Maleny and Montville. She did an internet search and found it was called Baroon Pocket Dam and that it was stocked with fish, including Bass, Golden Perch and Mary River Cod. She suddenly longed for fresh fish and vowed to find a way to catch some.

  In the main street of Maleny she saw a store that sold used books. Hoping she could find some information on fresh-water fishing she forced her way through a back door and began searching the shelves. A tome, 'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare' caught her eye, and she thought it might help fill in the long hours of night. A handyman's guide found on a different shelf felt like a godsend. Another book caught her eye. It was by a Vietnamese Zen Buddhist monk and when she opened it to a random page, she found words that immediately calmed and soothed her, and she knew she would read it often.

  She eventually found a comprehensive guide to fishing which came in a folder divided into sections by coloured tabs.

  Her dinners were often just ready-to-eat meals she'd take from the supermarket freezer section. She always took the most expensive, hoping they were more nutritionally sound than the less expensive ones. She also opted for the white meat and vegetable varieties. Maintaining her health had become important once she realised that, if she got sick, there would be nobody to help her.

  Writing in her journal became an activity that she found positive in many ways. It cleared her mind before sleep. It meant she could keep track of dates, feeling that this was important somehow, and it also helped her work through problems and anxieties.

  "There are so many things to worry about and sometimes I see the future as bleak and full of insurmountable problems. Maintaining a positive outlook at these times is hard.

  Reading the book by the Zen monk helps a lot. He says I have to live in the moment, which means not worrying about the past (it's gone) or the fut
ure (why worry about what might not happen?) but instead to be grateful for what I have right now. I can list those things: a roof over my head, clothing, food and good health. I feel really lucky when I think about it in this way.

  The monk also suggests that every morning on waking I should think about how lucky I am to be alive. I must meditate on this and vow to make the most of the next twenty-four hours.

  When my marriage fell apart, I could have used some of this man's wisdom. On the other hand, I'm not sure I would have been in the right state of mind to understand it."

  Catching her first fish in Baroon Pocket Dam came as such a shock to Meg that she nearly came to grief. As the fish jerked suddenly on the line, she let out a scream and then jumped to her feet, making the boat rock crazily from side to side. She lost her balance and sat suddenly, knocking the wind out of her lungs.

  She had come across a boat house the previous day which, as well as a rowboat and canoe, also contained angling equipment. The boat house was part of another group of luxury cabins located at the edge of the dam. This resort also had a reception area and kitchen, but no restaurant.

  Meg took note of what style of rods, reels and tackle were on offer and then looked them up in the fishing book when she got back to her cabin. She knew nothing about lures but learned quickly. An internet search suggested using live worms from the garden, and also to try fishing at dawn or dusk.

  So the sun was just rising over the misty dam the next morning when she pulled the boat into the water. June in Montville is cold, especially at daybreak, so she shivered in the light track top she had put on while still half asleep. Her first attempts at rowing were comical, but she kept trying, and eventually found herself moving in the right direction.

  She stayed on the dam for a little over an hour and in that time caught three fish. After rowing back to shore and pulling the boat high onto the bank, she walked up the hill to the kitchen she had seen earlier.

  Wrinkling her nose, she gutted all three fish and threw one into a frying pan with a small amount of olive oil. When it was cooked through, she sat at the small, timber table and ate hungrily. The taste of the freshwater variety wasn't as clean as saltwater — it had a slight muddy and grassy taste, but it was enjoyable nevertheless.

  While driving back to her cabin she turned the music up loud and used the steering wheel as a drumming instrument. She was in a high mood — fuelled by a sense of accomplishment — and as a celebration she decided to take the rest of the day off to just read and relax.

  She danced through the restaurant and into the kitchen. The remaining fish were placed onto a plate before she opened the refrigerator to place them inside. She stopped, wondering what was different. No light. There was no light in the refrigerator. Saying, "No, no, no," she went to the light switch and hit it almost angrily.

  Her carefree days were over. It was time to get serious.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The four-wheel drive was handling the dirt roads with ease. Occasionally it would hit some corrugations which made the whole cabin shudder, but the ride was mostly comfortable.

  Winter was the driest time for the southeast corner of Queensland. The days were blue, with pink and salmon tints at sunrise and sunset. The roads hadn't seen rainfall for some time, and Meg had to close the windows and sunroof to prevent dust from billowing into the cabin. Soon she had to reach for the air-conditioning controls as the winter sun beat through the windscreen. As she was doing this, she sensed rather than saw that she'd missed a driveway. She did a three-point-turn and headed back to where she'd just come from.

  The driveway was narrow and rutted and climbed up a rise. Nothing much could be seen until she reached the top, but then she saw the house and smiled.

  This was it — the house she had visualised right down to the smallest detail. It was low-set and sprawling with wide verandas and a large, open area at the front with a table and chairs. What made her heart beat faster was the sight of outdoor lights that had been left on. Electricity!

  She scrambled from the car and walked past the outdoor furniture to the front door. It wasn't locked, but somehow she didn't expect it to be. The first section of the house was the living area with stained-glass windows set into the rammed earth walls. These sent playful beams of light dancing around the room. She moved further into the living area that was cool like a cave, and onward toward the rear of the house.

  A smell, one she'd encountered often in the past few weeks, made her come to a stop. She sighed and covered the lower part of her face with the crook of an elbow before moving forward.

  Like so many others, the house owners had died in their sleep. Their bodies were now covered in flies that were buzzing excitedly. Meg took one look and left the room, before opening all the windows and doors throughout the house. She then moved outside.

  Her attention was first drawn to the livestock. There were a number of animals in various states of health. Meg could see that a windmill had been providing drinking water for those capable of reaching the trough it fed into, and the plentiful grass meant that those animals that relied mostly on this for food were unaffected by the lack of human attention. The chickens had all died, however, and Meg stood at the coop and sighed.

  The roofs of the house and outbuildings were all covered with solar panels. Alongside the windmill that pumped water from the ground were two other, similar devices that had bigger vanes and were more modern. Meg had seen these in pictures of wind farms.

  There were four large tanks being fed from the guttering on the various buildings. Meg knocked on the sides of the tanks in an attempt to determine their levels, but couldn't seem to find a difference in sounds.

  The rear of the house had a view to the bottom of the property. There was a cleared section covered in grass, which was rich and lush. Surrounding that was bush which looked like it was still in its natural state.

  On the far side of the house, Meg found, to her delight, a vegetable garden. It was well-established and covered in shade-cloth. Sadly the vegetables had been suffering through lack of water, and Meg quickly located a tap which was joined to the micro-watering system. The shadows were lengthening as the fine water mist began relieving the stress on the plants.

  Meg counted twenty fruit trees which stood in neat rows in a section not far from the vegetable garden. They weren't bearing fruit so she had no idea what sort of trees they were, but there appeared to be a variety. There were also three banana palms.

  She circled back to the outbuildings and began searching through them. One contained feed and equipment for the animals. Another housed a variety of machines. A third seemed to be the place to store any hazardous chemicals. The fourth came as a pleasant surprise — it contained a single bed, chest of drawers and a desk. A small refrigerator hummed in the corner. In the other corner, a door led to a tiny bathroom with shower. It was fairly clean — just needing dusting and sweeping — and she knew she could be comfortable there for the time it took to make the house habitable.

  Back in the car she set the GPS to remember the location as 'Home' and then drove back to the resort to collect her possessions.

  "It took a long time, but I have finally rid the house of the bodies. I began early this morning — as soon as the sun rose — and I'm not going to relive the horror of that task by writing about it. I think it's sufficient to say that if this house doesn't end up being suitable for any reason, the next one will have to be empty of dead people. What a nightmare!

  The bed had to be burned of course. I dragged it as far away from the house as I could and doused it in petrol before putting a match to it. Tonight I am sore, especially around the caesarean wound. I think I overdid it a bit.

  Now the bedroom is empty and I'm trying to rid the house of the stench. I have lit some burners containing essential oils such as peppermint and ylang ylang. I wonder how long it will take to clear the smell.

  It's nearly dark and I'm starving. I haven't eaten all day — haven't felt like it — and now r
ealise I've made no plans for food. Surely there are some snacks in the car.

  I just had a thought. The best bed in the world is in that cabin at the resort. I need a new bed. I wonder if I would be able to move it here. Perhaps by the time the smell leaves the bedroom, I'll be recovered enough to attempt it."

  Every day Meg would try a new method of removing the smell from the house and gradually it receded until it was only noticeable if she closed the windows, which she only had to do once, when the unusually long, dry spell was broken by heavy rain and strong winds.

  Still, it was six days until she could move into the big house, and the first night was spent in the spare room on an uncomfortable double bed. As she moved from side to side trying to find a firm place to lie on, she made the decision to take a bed from the resort on Obi Obi Creek.

  The next day was spent on that task alone. A furniture truck was found — small so as to be easy to drive and manoeuvre. It had a furniture removal trolley in the back, which ended up being vital for moving the pieces of the bed to and from the truck.

  Meg took sheets, blankets, pillows, towels, slippers and robes. The bedside tables and lamps were added to the haul. She raided the storage area and took boxes of the toiletries she'd enjoyed so much.

  Once back at the house, she couldn't rest until the bed was in place and made up with sheets and blankets. Once finished, she stood at the doorway and surveyed the results with a smile. Only when it was perfect did she place Emily's bunny at the place where the pillows met.

  She was beginning to worry about her sanity. Muttering to herself was becoming a habit and then some events had Meg concerned that she was in the early stages of paranoia.

  It began one day when she was in the vegetable patch. She was removing the plants that had died from lack of water and was examining the rest for pests. As she straightened and stretched, she felt like she was being watched.