In Strange Worlds

by Brenda Cheers

  Now those same young ones are honeymooning and I discover I'm very happy for them.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  "Okay, Luke. Are you ready for a huge day of work?"

  They were sitting around the breakfast table which was laden with pancakes, poached eggs and cereal that Connie had prepared. Luke nodded. Meg passed him more pancakes. "Eat up, you'll need the energy."

  Maleny's usual high rainfall had been noticeably absent from the time Meg had first moved into the house to the day after the wedding. Once it started, though, it made up for lost time. They saw fifteen consecutive days of showers, followed by two clear days and then another nineteen days of downpours. They had woken that morning to the sight of blue skies and sunshine and now it was time to catch up on the outside jobs.

  "Great pancakes, Connie. Your cooking is getting better every day. The eggs are perfect too. I love the runny yolks. Here, have one."

  As Connie looked at the plate of eggs, Meg saw the colour drain from her face. "I...I just have to...."

  Meg and Luke watched as Connie put a hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom. The awful sounds made Luke push his plate away. He looked at Meg with eyebrows raised.

  "It's okay Luke, she's fine."

  They heard more noises and Luke frowned.

  "Nothing to worry about. I'll pop into a chemist this morning and get something for her."

  That something would be a pregnancy test.

  "Do you know what Meg?" Connie handed her a wet plate to dry.

  "What?"

  "I'd like to be like you — you know — when I grow older."

  Meg laughed. "Really? Like me?"

  "No, I'm serious. You're amazing. It's like all the stuff you do here — how you've got this property running so we have a nearly normal life."

  "Thanks for saying that, but really — I just had no choice."

  "Yeah, but — like — you do this thing. When you've got a problem and you don't know what to do, you really become sorta focused and you find a way around it. You never give up. I think that's just awesome."

  Meg had recently noticed Connie imitating her — it was some sort of hero worship. It irritated Meg at first but then she remembered how she had done something similar when she became Angela's P.A.

  It was the little things first — habits, mannerisms and particular turns-of-phrase. Angela wore jewellery that Meg admired and she found herself adopting a similar look. There was a brand of clothing that Angela preferred for every-day wear because it was functional, practical and easy to wear. Meg purchased a few items herself but was too embarrassed to wear them to work.

  This stage lasted for six months or so. As she became more confident in herself and her ability, her hero-worship of Angela almost disappeared. Connie just needed to find her own strengths.

  "You're awesome too. Look at how you've taken to the cooking and housework. You're so much better at it than me."

  "Yeah, but that’s not like the big, important stuff that you do."

  "It most certainly is! You are the engine that keeps Luke and me running so we can do all the heavy work. It's perfect now you have the baby coming. Oh, that reminds me — later I'd like to listen to the heartbeat with that special stethoscope I got from the hospital."

  Connie's face fell. "Why? Do you think something's wrong?"

  "Oh, sweetheart. No. Nothing at all. I think it's all more than right. I think you're having twins."

  Meg dropped heavily into the chair in her bedroom and opened her journal.

  “Now I'm glad I kept this written record, because not only has it helped me to work through problems but it also kept track of the days. How else would we have known that the twins were born on July 11th 2014?

  Yes, today the population of our little community went from three to five. Brave Connie gave birth to one of each — a boy and a girl — both seemingly healthy although perhaps a bit underweight.

  Connie is now asleep, exhausted by the protracted labour. I'm watching the proud father hovering over the babies who are also exhausted — recovering from their journey into the world. Luke's expression reflects both pride and awe.

  Those two, Connie and Luke have been surprising me with their maturity and balanced view of this strange world we've found ourselves inhabiting. Connie's pregnancy was a team effort on their part, with Luke ensuring that the mother-to-be had a balanced diet and exercise plan, as well as just being there to rub oil into her distended abdomen. Often, at the end of a busy day, I'd come across them in a position that made me smile. Connie would be on the sofa, lying against a cushion with her feet in Luke's lap. Luke would be massaging her feet with a serious expression on his face. Just marvellous.

  Around halfway through her pregnancy, Connie asked me to teach her to knit. Knit? I barely knew how to do it myself. Nevertheless we found a shop which stocked all the necessary supplies and we worked it out. She liked to sing while she knitted, joyful songs that made us smile. Her labours resulted in tiny cardigans and booties in a myriad of pastel shades. Each item seemed like a miracle.

  As a midwife I was not qualified, competent or confident, and to me this seemed like a dangerous combination where the birth of twins was concerned. I read every book I could find on the subject and would often wake in the middle of the night, running various scenarios through my mind. I often doubted that, in the event of complications, I would be able to bring two live babies into the world.

  Luck was on our side. Or perhaps that strange puppeteer who oversaw our every action had a hand in it. Connie's waters broke last night and she progressed quickly through the stages of labour — although I must say that it seemed like an eternity — until the first head crowned in the early hours of the morning. This was the girl who began making very loud noises on drawing her first breath.

  The boy came not long after. He wasn't as lively as the girl. In fact I was quite worried when he took ages to begin breathing. I gave him a swift slap on the bottom which seemed to shock him into action. I felt bad about that and as soon as possible, passed him to Connie for a cuddle.

  The afterbirth arrived on schedule and Luke went to bury it in a place we'd already prepared. I'm not sure about the reason for this, only that it seemed right — like an ancient ritual.

  Now I feel the need to record these births somewhere. Somewhere official. It must be important to humankind that Maisie and Thomas have come into the world. Is it possible that others are being born somewhere? Or is it just them?

  What happens when they are ready to mate? Where will they find suitable partners — or any partners for that matter?

  Should Luke and I have children to widen the gene pool? I could possibly squeeze another pregnancy or two in the time before menopause. We wouldn't have to actually have sex — I believe a lot can be achieved with a turkey baster. Heavens, what a thought! I laugh when I imagine the horrified look that this suggestion would bring to Luke's face. In any case, I'm an extremely bad candidate for a healthy incubation of foetuses. I'll give that idea a big miss.

  Tonight I'm very emotional. Seeing Luke and Connie's joy at their new babies reminds me of the loss of my own children, but at the same time I feel proud of a job well done, and this is also coloured with great relief. It's over and everyone is fine. Phew.

  Now I will rack my brains to think up an idea for recording these births. History was made today.”

  Meg's eyes began closing of their own accord. She stirred and listened for sounds of fretful babies, and when she didn't hear any, climbed into bed. She'd need all the rest she could get.

  By the time the twins were four months old, Meg had come to the heartbreaking conclusion that there was something wrong with Thomas.

  She'd searched through all the medical books and the best explanation she could come up with was the term 'failure to thrive’, which, like many medical terms, described the condition but not the cure.

  Where Maisie was bouncing and bright and had double-chins and rolls of fat, Thomas was pale, thin
and listless. He slept more than was usual and was irritable and fractious.

  The three adults would spend their evenings poring over medical books, discussing plans for treatment. Many remedies were tried, but none made any difference.

  If Thomas were an only child, perhaps they wouldn't have realised just how bad the situation was, but when they compared him to his incredibly bright and healthy sister, the difference was heartbreaking.

  Meg felt, rightly or wrongly, that she was the custodian of the babies and their parents. One theory she had was that she was saved in order to carry out this important duty. If Thomas were to die, her sense of failure would be enormous.

  "What I wouldn't give for the internet right now! I could search forums and blogs where similar symptoms were discussed by parents. I would be able to discover what treatments worked. Right now I am flying blind and I think we're losing the fight.

  It is late afternoon on a day that seems almost perfect. The macadamia trees are casting lollipop shadows onto the lush grass. At this time of day, the air echoes with small noises. I can hear the cow chewing its cud. One of the lambs, born in the middle of spring, bleats at its mother. Connie sings as she washes Thomas. It's magical.

  Maisie sits at my feet in a basket. She watches her fingers closely as they curl and uncurl. Her legs work constantly, using movements like a mad cyclist. She makes tiny gurgling sounds which seem to amuse her.

  If only we didn't have to worry about Thomas, life would be perfect."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Meg stood watching Luke pat down the last of the loose earth with a shovel, a grim look on his face. She had helped dig the three graves — damned hard work, especially in the heavy rain— and after the bodies were placed in them, she also helped replace the earth.

  While Luke put away the shovels, she made a cup of coffee and took it, and her journal, into the privacy of her bedroom. She felt the need to record the events of the past twenty four hours; in much the same way as the captain would make entries into the ship's log. Somehow it seemed important.

  As she began writing, the words wouldn't flow. Too many of them raced into her brain and they bumped and tripped over each other in an attempt to be first on the page. She shifted in the chair and took a sip of coffee before again applying the pen to the paper.

  “I just re-read my last entry. It was ten days ago and the world was a peaceful place. Yesterday that all changed.

  For a day or so I'd felt that feeling on the back of my neck again — that sensation that I was being watched. This time I knew to trust it, so grabbed the rifle and went looking in the bush. There was nothing to see.

  This feeling unsettled me and my nerves were on full alert. I kept the .22 and plenty of spare rounds close by. Connie asked me if something was wrong, but I said no — I didn't know what to tell her.

  It was around mid-afternoon yesterday when I sensed a change in the air. The animals were making unusual sounds, especially the chickens that were squawking and flapping madly.

  I looked outside and saw two men walking up the driveway. They walked close to each other, talking excitedly and pointing to various features of the property. Each of them was carrying a shotgun loosely by their sides.

  I'm a person who doesn't like to judge people too quickly, but in the case of these two, I felt an instant dislike. No that's not right, it was distrust— a sensation that crawled over my skin like a huntsman spider, making me shiver.

  I met them halfway down the driveway, my right hand holding the rifle while the left elbow supported the barrel.

  They looked alike. Both wore jeans, singlets, checked flannelette shirts and baseball caps. Both wore scruffy beards and walked with swaggers. I wondered, as they approached me, if they were related. This would be interesting in terms of scientific curiosity, that siblings had survived whatever killed the others off.

  The man on my left spoke first. 'Hey, lovely lady. Nice place you 'ave 'ere.'

  I nodded. 'Thanks, we like it.'

  'We decided to make a friendly visit, like.' This was the man to the right. 'Perhaps you'll give us a feed and put us up for a few nights?'

  My heart was beating so hard it was a wonder they couldn't hear it. My senses were heightened and time seemed to have slowed.

  I sensed Luke walking up behind me. One of the children was crying in the house. A fly landed on my arm.

  'Well, fellas, it's like this. It's great to see that there were more survivors, and it's nice to have met you. We're really busy at the moment, though and I wouldn't have time to be hospitable. There are lots of properties around here similar to this with sturdy houses and food available. Why don't you go and settle into one and we'll catch up soon?"

  Both men smirked at the same time. This obviously wasn't what they had in mind.

  'Well, that's not very friendly of 'er, is it Jimmy? Here we was thinkin' that two females would be hankerin' after a couple of lusty gents like us, if you know what I mean.' He thrust his pelvis forward and licked his lips.

  Here was a situation that life had not prepared me for. It wasn't long ago I was a housewife with a successful husband. I had been sheltered from men like these who were ill-mannered, badly educated and whose attitude suggested they could be violent. They also knew, somehow, that there were two women in the house.

  I guessed that any show of weakness on my part would be pounced on. These men acted like bullies and that's what bullies do — play on weaknesses. I had to be strong, even if I was just pretending.

  "Gee, that's a tempting offer, guys, but I think we'll pass."

  The one to my right raised his shotgun and aimed at my legs.

  "How's 'bouts you give that a bit more thought, eh?"

  I felt Luke move. I shifted my left hand in an action which told him to hold firm.

  "No, and I don't want any trouble. How about you two just move on and leave us alone?"

  A shrill sound came from the house. It was Connie and she was screaming at the top of her lungs, "Leave us alone!" Then she screamed some more. I kept my eyes on the two men but was aware of Luke running toward the house.

  The man on the left made a lunge for me, but I was ready. Any hesitation I might have felt to shoot another person was countered by Connie's screams. I lifted the rifle and shot him in the knee. The second man moved so I shot him as well, and he doubled over, clutching his abdomen. Despite the injury to his knee, the one on the left pointed the gun at my chest so I aimed at his head and pulled the trigger. I did the same for his partner.

  Looking back I don't know how I did that. Where did the strength come from? I remember coolly examining their bodies for any sign of life and when I was certain they couldn't harm us any more, I moved on to the house.

  It wasn't hard to locate the trouble. There were screams and strange male voices coming from the living area. I flattened myself against the wall of the house and made my way along the veranda. When I came to the living room window, I crouched low and looked in.

  There were two men, but I only had a full view of one. He looked a lot like the two I'd just dispatched, both in appearance and manner. He was touching Connie's hair and she was being very vocal in her rejection of him, which had, luckily, drowned out the sounds of gunfire.

  The fourth man had his back to me and was jiggling his whole body up and down. This seemed strange until I realised why. He had one of the babies and was calming it with movement. He seemed different to the rest, from the back anyway. He seemed better dressed and groomed.

  Luke was standing in the middle of the living area, his anger evident in the tendons of his neck and the tightness of his jaw. I was concerned he was about to do something that would endanger Connie and the babies.

  "So this 'ere is your man, eh? Boy is more like it. I bet I could teach ya things he's never 'eard of."

  Luke seemed set to lunge forward, but then saw me signal from outside. I showed him the rifle and mouthed 'diversion'. He nodded almost imperceptibly and then closed his eyes and took
a deep breath. An awful sound filled the air.

  Later I found out that Luke had been a student of martial arts and that what he'd just let out was a ki-yup which is like a battle cry. It helps draw energy into the body and creates a diversion to upset the opponent. In this case his ki-yup was primal. It came from the depths of his being and through a voice that hadn't been used for a long time. It was loud, harsh and frightening.

  It caused everyone in the room to turn to him in amazement. Even Connie became silent and just stared. It gave me the opportunity to slip through the sliding glass door, staying low, and to aim the rifle. The scruffy man who resembled the other two looked at me for a second with dawning comprehension. I felled him with a single bullet, but still pumped two more into him for good measure. Then I turned to the last man.

  He had Thomas against his chest, but held one arm up in the universal sign of surrender.

  I could see the difference in him immediately. Although his face bore a couple of day's growth, it was obvious that he shaved from time to time. He had finer features than the other three, and his eyes were clear and intelligent.

  Despite the fact I'd just shot three men, I didn't want to keep killing. I wanted to find out more about this man before doing more harm. Besides, he was holding the baby.

  "Connie, take Thomas from this man."

  She moved forward with her arms outstretched. The man handed the child over without hesitation. I noticed that Thomas began fretting in Connie's arms, whereas he'd been unusually calm while being held by the stranger.

  The man raised his other arm into the air. "I wasn't really with those other men and I want to apologise. My name is Derek."

  "Luke, check him for weapons, would you?" The worst thing he was carrying was a Swiss army knife. "Now you have two whole minutes to persuade me to let you go."