by P. J. Sky
“No,” said the man, his voice almost a whisper. “I would never…”
“So, a deserter then?”
“Please…” said the man.
The Commander drew his pistol. “2nd Battalion. Ya know what I don’t like about the 2nd Battalion?”
The man shook his head.
The Commander looked around at his men. “Can any sailor ‘ere say what I don’t like about the 2nd Battalion?”
“Sir,” barked one of the soldiers. “That we’re the 3rd, Sir.”
“That we’re the 3rd,” repeated the Commander. “That’s what I really don’t like about the 2nd Battalion. We should be the 2nd Battalion. Hell, we should be the 1st.” He turned back to the shivering man. “We’re now deeper in than the 1st. If anyone’s gonna sweep away the Bone Pointer, it’s gonna be the 3rd.” The Commander leant his head towards the shivering man. “And do ya know why, sailor?”
The man shook his head, his hands still raised.
“Because my soldiers ain’t deserters.”
The Commander stood and turned to his men. He raised his voice.
“Because my soldiers ain’t deserters.”
The men started to cheer.
While keeping his eyes on his men, the Commander swung the pistol towards the shaking man’s head.
The crack echoed around the hollow buildings. Red splattered up the wall.
Keshia’s heart jumped. She closed her eyes and looked away. She could feel her heart beating in her chest.
The soldiers stopped cheering.
The Commander started to chuckle, a strange, empty laugh that fell flat on the shocked soldiers and the hollow shells of buildings. “I think he’s lost his head.” He raised his pistol and fired into the air above him. “Thursday. I just love Offensive Day.”
∆∆∆
The Commander led them past a series of tubular-like structures with rows of tiny, round windows, their metal skins peppered with round puncture wounds. Scratched into the white surface, Keshia recognised the shapes of letters:
Those who are victorious will inherit all this.
Keshia vaguely recognised the phrase. Back in the convent, she was certain the priest had used it in one of his sermons. But is this what the Black Mulga had inherited? A shattered world, beaten into submission, its heart ripped out?
The closer they got to the town’s centre, the busier the roads became. Above the town square, the high tower with its inverted cone cast a long, finger-like shadow across the melee of people and animals. Soldiers, easily identified by their fatigues and their vests with the snake-like emblem, worked their way through the throngs of ordinary folk who’d evidently chosen to remain in the occupied town after its fall. Market stalls had sprung up from the ruined buildings, selling bread and steaming kangaroo stew and pots of grog, and Keshia found their sweet smells almost intoxicating. Along the edge of the square flanked the large, steel buildings that only seemed to have windows on their upper floors.
Keshia saw people with guns, crawling along the rooftops and dropping below the sills of still surviving balconies, and taking up vantage points that might afford a clear view of the square.
In the centre of everything, a large bonfire burnt, above which embers danced into the evening air. Military vehicles, like giant, brown, metal insects, perched at corners of the square, soldiers spread over them like blankets, drinking their grog and laughing with each other. Intermittently, gunshots punctured the air, each one accompanied by a cheer from the soldiers.
Between the casually celebrating soldiers, and the locals thronging the market stalls, the atmosphere was that of a carnival, all be it one that might at any moment explode. There was something incendiary about the hot atmosphere, as if the buildings, so recently alight with flames, could at any moment reignite to breathe fiery vengeance onto the invading forces.
The Commander grinned and led them to a metal staircase sat on a set of wheels without tyres. Under Keshia’s feet, the steps creaked. At the top, they were led through a curtained doorway into one of the large, interconnected metal buildings.
Light spilled from the big windows into the high, dusty hall. Faded pictures hung on the walls. Most seemed to contain people smiling, with rings of flowers in their hair, and holding colourful drinks in glasses that appeared to have chunks of fruit on their rims and bright, cone-like arrangements that almost looked like little roofs. Keshia couldn't see how you’d eat or drink these. In the background of these pictures, Keshia recognised the lush foliage of green trees, not that she’d ever seen so many trees in one place before, however she’d heard plenty of stories of jungles, but the little strips of yellow sand that ran into huge rivers of blue water were like nothing she’d ever seen before.
On some of these pictures, she could still read the words, though they meant nothing to her. One said Bali, another said Fiji.
As Keshia gazed into these windows into another time, she entirely forgot where she was. She wondered, if this place was so ancient, maybe the people that once occupied these buildings once spoke a different language?
The next picture showed a small group of people; a man, a woman, two children. The woman smiled, exposing a row of impossibly white teeth, her brown eyes sparkled and her skin was smooth and white. They stood next to a hut like none Keshia had ever seen. It was a white hut, with a red door and square windows and a red roof, and the ground in front of the hut was green, as if some sort of uniform plant covered it. The words above the image were much easier to understand, for they were in Keshia’s own language:
Impact Relocation Programme - A new life after the impact.
Impact, wondered Keshia?
She remembered the stories in the orphanage, of how her people had come to be in this land.
“Many moons ago,” the mother superior had explained, “the world had become evil and corrupt and decadent. It was a place of anger and division. So, the Lord, who at that time was still a vengeful God, sent a great ball of fire from the heavens to burn the world, and rid it of all evil, but before he did this, he sent our people a message. He told our people, the followers of his word, to come here, to this land, and start again, and to live purely and by his word. And that’s how we all came to be here. And that’s why we still learn his teachings, because we were the ones he chose to save.”
Keshia remembered raising her hand. “But isn’t the world still divided? Don’t the people in Alice still live separately from people like us?”
The mother superior had nodded. “Sadly, this is true. The Lord can deliver his message, but he still grants us free will, and with that will, some will always remain less charitable than others.”
Further on, another image seemed to show a very large bottle of something called SPF-30, whatever that was, and a photograph of an impossibly sculpted woman with skin so uniformly olive it didn’t look real. She appeared to be massaging some kind of white cream into her skin.
Keshia moved on and bumped right into Ari who had also stopped to look at the picture.
“What do you think these pictures are for?”
“I… I dunno. They’re beautiful,” said Ari.
“They’re crazy.”
“I guess…”
The Commander waved his arm. “Speed it up, you two.”
Arranged on the floor in the centre of a shard of orange sunlight lay a blanket and cushions, some little metal bowls, some tin mugs and spoons. In the corner, a man and a woman sat waiting, and in front of them was a small stove and a few pots.
The Commander lowered himself and opened his palms to the other cushions. “Please, join me.”
Keshia looked at Ari. Ari looked back warily.
“Is the hospitality of my house not good enough for ya?”
Ari slid down onto a cushion next to the Commander, her back to the windows. Keshia followed, sitting down on a cushion next to Ari. Two more soldiers took the other two cushions. Keshia guessed these were men of some sort of rank.
The Comma
nder waved his hand and the other soldiers slipped into the shadows. Keshia could hear footsteps on the metal staircase.
The Commander grinned. “That’s better now, isn’t it? Sat together to eat, like civilised folk.” He fiddled with his holster and drew out a gun-grey pistol.
Keshia’s heart skipped.
The Commander paused, looked right at her, then placed the pistol down on the blanket beside him.
“Two things ya should remember about eatin’”, said the Commander, “never eat with ya hat on, an’ never eat with ya firearm in ya holster.”
Keshia swallowed. She wanted to ask him why, but she couldn’t quite get the words out.
The Commander slapped his thigh. “So now, we eat.”
He hadn’t looked at the man and the woman in the corner but they evidently understood and began busying themselves with the stove and the pots. Before long, the smell of boiled vegetables was wafting across the hall. Keshia’s stomach grumbled, but she barely dared take her eyes off the Commander.
“Ya know, I grew up eatin’ fish,” the Commander was saying. His eyelid quivered, as if he’d not had enough sleep. “Real fish. The silver kind, with scales an’ tails an’ all. It seems impossible now. The only fish you’ll find now are dry bones at the bottom of a dead sea. Back then we was always hungry, even then we could never find enough fish, but my father he never took handouts. He used to say, ‘Son, give a man a fish an’ he’ll eat for a day, but give him a net and he’ll feed himself.’”
Keshia wasn’t really sure what a sea was, she was only barely aware of a fish.
The Commander looked at the man seated opposite him. The man’s bottom lip began to quiver.
“Lieutenant, tell our guests what an army is.”
The man stammered. “A real big net, Sir.”
“A real big net,” repeated the Commander. “See, my father thought the sea had dried up, when really it had just got bigger. I wasn’t gonna fish the sea, because the sea wasn’t gonna be there anymore, but I could look to the future, to the infinite opportunities this new world offered.”
The Commander turned to Ari. He scratched at his smooth chin. “Ya know, I look at you an’ I see somethin’ in your eyes, somethin’s eatin’ ya up, somethin’s burnin’ away ya fight.”
Ari met the Commander's gaze. “Guess I just don’t see the point in whatever it is ya doin’ all this fightin’ for. I been watchin’ ya, you’re like kids fightin’ over ya toys.”
The Commander grinned. “You ain’t got no idea why we fight.” He looked at Keshia. “What about you kid? Ya got some fight in ya? Why do you think we fight?”
“I…” Keshia looked at Ari then back at the Commander. “I guess, you fight for what you believe in?”
The Commander shook his head. “Let me tell ya kid, no one ever fights a war ‘cause they believe in somethin’. I mean, plenty folks might tell ya that, but really, war is economics, plain an’ simple. You're a fool if ya fight for glory or some intangible thing like what ya believe. Ya fight to fish. Ya fight to take what the other guy has. An’ the folks that want peace? Well, they’re the ones that have what you want an’ they deserve what’s comin' to them because I deserve what they have, I’m fightin’ for it an’ I’ll take it from ‘em.” The Commander held Keshia’s gaze for an uncomfortable length of time. “Belief? Ya gotta believe in somethin’ kid, but ya don’t ‘ave to fight for it. In this life, ya fight for the tangibles.”
Keshia’s stomach grumbled and her cheeks started to burn.
The Commander smiled and licked his lips. “Ya hungry?”
Keshia nodded.
He turned his head. “So when’s our food comin’?”
The woman stood, her head dipped, a large bowl in her hand. She placed it in the middle of the blanket. The stew smelt rich and sweet.
For a moment, no one at the table moved, as if they all waited for something. Then the Commander reached over, took the bowl of stew, and shovelled some into his bowl.
“Ya ever kept a dog?” asked the Commander. He still looked directly at Keshia.
Nervously, Keshia shook her head.
“I kept a dog once. They’re good for huntin’, for sniffin’ people out. Ya know what I mean?”
Keshia didn’t move.
“Well, they are. Now, dogs are simple creatures, not so different to people really. Ya can train ‘em to sit, to lie, to play dead, an’ ya can train ‘em to eat on command.”
The Commander pushed the pot towards Keshia.
“Please.”
Keshia took the warm pot. The stew smelt incredible. Keshia’s hand shook as she ladled a small portion of stew into her bowl. Then she slid the pot to Ari.
“See, ya can train a dog so as you can put hot food in front of ‘im an’ he won’t eat till ya snap ya fingers. Otherwise he’ll just sit there, stomach grumbling, waitin’ for ya signal.”
Ari shovelled stew into her bowl.
“I remember once,” continued the Commander, “I put hot food in that dog's bowl, an’ I sat down an’ waited. He sat there lookin’ up at me, an’ I sat there lookin’ down on him. An’ I got out my gun an’ placed it down on the table, just like I’ve done now, an’ I made myself a promise. If he breaks, if he starts eatin’ before I say, I’m gonna pick that gun up an’ shoot ‘im right between the eyes.”
Ari moved the pot towards the other soldiers.
The Commander continued staring right at Keshia. He dropped his hand to the blanket and started running his index finger along the grey barrel of the gun. He touched the corner of the trigger.
Ari spoke. “So wha’ happened?”
The Commander looked to Ari. He lifted his empty hand.
“The dog never ate.”
Ari took a spoonful and chewed slowly, her jaw rolling.
For a moment, it was as if no one dared breathe.
Then the Commander tipped his head back and laughed. “I like you,” he said to Ari. He looked about the rest of his table. “See, a dog spends all its days worshippin’ ya. An’ in the end ya gotta shoot it, ‘cause ya can’t respect somethin’ that’s always worshippin’ ya. Sooner or later, ya just gonna stop carin’ about it, an’ ya gonna shoot it. Besides, I always like to see my guests eat before me, that way…” and he raised his voice, as if he wanted his cooks in the corner to hear him, “I can check no one's tryin’ to poison me.”
The two people in the corner dipped their heads and cowered.
Keshia watched Ari confidently chew. She looked at the food, it still smelt incredible. The first mouthful melted in her mouth, and then she devoured the rest of the contents of her bowl.
“Ya know,” said the Commander. “I’m thinkin’ I might have to overrule that paper of yours. It’s just too dangerous for you two to go runnin’ off on ya own to the mine. Couple a’ kids like you, ya ain’t gonna stand a chance. I’m thinkin’ ya both can stay ‘ere till we’ve taken the mine. Otherwise, well, I fear for ya lives.”
“Ya don’t ‘ave to worry about us,” said Ari.
“I do, cause if ya leave ‘ere, I’m gonna ‘ave to kill ya.”
Ari put down her bowl. “We gotta get to the mine now.”
“Why?”
“That’s our business.”
The Commander sighed. “Your business?”
“Our business.”
The Commander clenched his fist and raised his voice. “Everythin’ this corner of the world is my business.”
“We can’t stay ‘ere,” said Ari.
The Commander held out his finger. “I think ya misunderstandin’ me. Now I’m treatin’ ya nice, feedin’ ya at my table even, but I ain’t givin’ ya a choice.”
Ari and the Commander stared at each other. Keshia could see the blood vessel on the Commander's forehead bulge.
Ari’s fingers were flexing and Keshia wondered if she was going for her blade.
But Ari, he’ll see you do it. He’ll pick up the pistol. He’ll be quicker.
Then the town
square exploded in a clatter of automatic gunfire.
Startled, Keshia looked around. Through the windows, she saw a large plume of black smoke rise into the air. When she turned back, Ari had drawn her blade and was holding it to the Commander’s neck.
Chapter 13
Ari’s fingers tightened around the handle of her blade. The Commander's eyes widened and the vein on his forehead throbbed.
The soldiers had scrambled for the doorway. Outside, gunfire rattled and something exploded.
Ari pressed the blade against the skin of the Commander’s neck. “Looks like ya men didn’t stick around.”
The Commander's face reddened and his eyes widened. The vein at the top of his forehead bulged.
“I can’t let ya keep us ‘ere,” said Ari.
Sweat dripped down the Commander's red face and his lips began to tremble. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do nothin’, that out there ain’t down to us. We ain’t got no part in this. But we gotta go.”
“You ain’t gettin’ away with this.”
“Pick up the pistol, kid.” Ari didn’t take her eyes from the Commander.
The Commander raised his eyebrows. “Think she can reach it before me?”
Ari narrowed her eyes. “Ya ain’t seen how fast I am with this blade, an’ I ain’t got no problem slittin’ ya throat.”
“Ari?” Keshia’s voice trembled.
“Pick it up.”
From the corner of her eye, Ari watched Keshia lift the pistol, laying her fingers on it like she was picking up a dangerous snake.
“On the Commander.”
The Commander balled up his fists and his tattooed biceps bulged.
Keshia raised the gun towards the Commander.
The Commander’s eyes slipped to Keshia then back to Ari. “Kid ain’t got the balls to shoot.”
“Ya bet ya life on that? Now give us our paper.”
The Commander spat at Ari.
Ari pressed the blade deeper into his neck. “Our paper.”
The Commander reached inside his shirt and produced the folded piece of paper. He tossed it on the blanket in front of Ari. “Ya know I really don’t care for ya Jackrolla shit.”
