“Forty years ago, when I was barely twenty, I was framed for a crime I certainly didn’t commit. I left the country, but I didn’t seek revenge. I made my own way in the world, and I made a sizeable fortune. I didn’t have to return. I didn’t have to remain silent on the government’s clandestine operations. I could have written a book, but I didn’t. Ironically, I could have taken a job with Harris Global. They wanted a head of security to manage their mining operations in Nigeria. I turned them down. That is the world in which I operated. The shadow world of spies and mercenaries and off-the-books agents, facilitators as diplomatic proxies. But it is a world of memory, soon to be myth.”
“Here’s hoping.”
12th March
Chapter 14 - An RAAF Upgrade
Humeburn, Queensland
“Commissioner?” Toppley called softly as she kicked Tess’s foot. “Are you still human?”
“As much as I ever was,” Tess said. Above, the first glimmering threads of a new day were weaving through night’s velvet cloak, but sunrise was still hours away. “Is there trouble?”
“The opposite,” Toppley said. “We’ve picked up your pilot on the radio. Our carriage approaches, and will be close enough to hear in a minute.”
“If it’s too far away to hear the engines, what’s that sound?” Tess asked, stretching stiffly as she came fully awake. Her side ached in protest after a few brief hours’ exhausted slumber propped against the metal hopper. “Are those zombies?” she asked, even as she leaned over the side to peer down at the writhing pit of crawlers creating a moat around the truck. As she watched, one began to stand, only to be knocked from its feet, toppled back into the seething swarm. “Let’s get out of here,” Tess said.
“Where are we going?” Molly called up through the open window.
“Out through the gate, beyond the bus,” Tess said. “You okay driving?”
“It’s not much different to a tractor,” Molly called back.
The sound of voices had energised the writhing mass of death. Necrotic flesh knocked and banged against the metallic bodywork and, more flatly, against the tyres. Before Tess could question whether the machine was truly as formidable as the Canadian stories claimed, the engine roared. With a barely perceptible bump, the machine’s giant tyres tore over and through the heaving corpses, grinding bones to dust, muscle to pulp, and diseased brain to mulch. Bracing her hands on the hopper’s sides, Tess held on as the truck picked up speed.
Enclosed by the vehicle’s metal walls, she only had the towering scaffolding-lamps by which to gauge distance until a sharp crack marked them driving into the partially ruined gate. The truck barely slowed. Beyond, and beyond the undead crawling carpet, they sped up, approaching eight miles an hour. Ten.
Sunrise turned the sky ochre mixed with the amber threads of gathering high-level clouds. And up there, still inaudible above the truck’s spine-shaking rumble, was a growing speck. Winged salvation, already losing altitude as it sped towards the runway far, far faster than their truck.
With a bump, the truck met the tarred beginning of the runway-road, but the sound of the impact, and even the engine, was drowned by the approaching plane. A plane far louder, and far bigger than Tess remembered. Far, far bigger, with twice the number of engines.
“Your pilot’s called in the cavalry!” Toppley yelled.
Tess smiled, and held on.
By the time the truck stopped, the plane, an RAAF C-17 Globemaster, had landed and lowered its rear ramp. From that, a figure in black had jogged out, sweeping his rifle left and right with gloriously comforting professionalism.
“Only one soldier!” Toppley called as she waited at the base of the hopper while Tess climbed down. “Where are the rest?”
Tess turned to look back along the road at the distant mine, and the moving shadows, slowly approaching. “One is more than enough.”
Molly, Shannon, and Blaze were already sprinting for the plane. The soldier raised his rifle, aimed into the outback, and fired, the sound of the suppressed shot lost among the engines’ idling roar. As the man continued his sweep of the shadowy land, Tess followed Toppley to the plane’s ramp. Even before she reached it, she realised she knew the man. Toppley had been correct. It was the cavalry.
“Someone ordered a taxi?” Captain Bruce Hawker of the SASR said. “You’re missing a few.”
“Dead or fled,” Tess said, looking back towards the mine. Nearly two kilometres away, it looked far smaller, more desolate, more empty, and it would only get increasingly more so as the thin line of figures lurched erratically after the dumper. “Let’s get out of here.”
Leaving Hawker to raise the cargo ramp, Tess made her way inside. The windowless interior was configured for the parachute jump over Honolulu. A double row of jump seats along the centre-line had been added to the seats lining the wall, making space for over a hundred parachutists. Toppley, Shannon, Molly, and Blaze were at the far end of the cargo bay, making their way up the steep steps to the control centre above and at the front of the plane. Even as Tess reached the steps, and before the cargo door closed, the plane began its rumbling take-off.
“This is the fun part!” Hawker yelled as she strapped herself in, and he made sure the other passengers were buckled.
Tess closed her eyes as the plane jumped upwards, impersonating a rocket as it soared skywards, tilting, turning, twisting, and, far sooner than she’d expected, levelling off. She opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Bruce Hawker, grinning.
“Doctor Dodson wasn’t kidding about being a top pilot,” he said. “Do you think I can borrow him for Hawaii?”
“Mick’s flying?” Tess asked. “I better go have a word.”
Leaving the captain to settle the other passengers, she made her way through to the cockpit where Mick sat alone, dwarfed by the jungle of electronics.
“Ah, g’day,” he said as blithely as if he’d been driving a car. “Found myself an upgrade.”
“You can really fly this alone?” she asked, pulling herself into the co-pilot’s seat.
“Most of this gear is for when the enemy starts shooting,” Mick said. “And if the zombies begin doing that, we’ve got bigger problems. Best bit about the plane, though,” he added, leaning forward to tap a monitor. “There’s CCTV on the cargo hold, so we didn’t bring any of the undead with us. You remember that film we watched with the aliens where you said it was over and I said there was another twenty minutes to go?”
She laughed. “It’s good to see you, Mick, it really is.”
“You, too,” he said. “I didn’t see Morsten come aboard.”
“He ran,” Tess said. “Stole a bulldozer, nearly ran me over. Drove off into the outback.” She leaned forward to look out the window, but they were already far, far beyond where the bulldozer would have run out of diesel.
“He’s a bloke who never listened to the rules,” Mick said. “That’s the end of him.”
“Maybe,” she said.
“How’d he end up in Durham?”
“I’m not sure,” Tess said. “Didn’t get the chance to ask him.”
“What about the skinny bloke and the lady with the glasses?”
“He shot her. I killed him.”
“Ah. It’s been a busy night, then?”
“You could say that. How’s Molly’s son?” Tess asked.
“Give him a few weeks and he’ll be all right,” Mick said.
“Good,” Tess said. “So how did you get this plane?”
“When I set down in Ballina, Bruce was the bloke who came to welcome us, with his squad, rifles at the ready. He’s got a regiment of parachutists ready to jump over Hawaii. After we got the kids to the hospital, and I explained the situation, he said we should use his plane to come get you. Better with rough landings and quick take-offs, you see?”
“Why didn’t you bring any of the other soldiers with you?” Tess asked.
“Ah, no, they’re not soldiers,” Mick said. “The regiment’s ma
de up of conscripts who’ve parachuted before.”
“Oh, I see,” Tess said. “And no one stopped you?”
“Bruce is the most senior bloke there,” Mick said. “Except me, of course.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad,” she said.
“Don’t fret over things you can’t control,” Mick said. “Rule nine.”
“Two days ago you said rule nine was pilots always get the last of the hot water.”
“Rule nine-A,” Mick said.
“Speaking of water, do you have any?”
“In the locker at the back,” Mick said.
Captain Hawker had gathered the others into the ancillary-crew area behind the cockpit. Molly was still buckled in, sipping water. Shannon, next to her, was gulping it. Toppley was in the lavatory, while Blaze seemed to be writing something for Hawker on a small notepad.
“Your son’s safe, Molly,” Tess said.
“Thank you,” Molly said. “Bruce told us, but thank you.”
Tess nodded to the captain, but then frowned as he took the piece of paper back from Blaze. Oddly, it appeared to be a caricature of a penguin.
“Good on ya,” Hawker said. “And thank you, Commissioner. My son will be relieved you kept Mr Blaze alive.”
“I’m sorry? Your son will be happy, why?” Tess asked.
“You don’t know who this is?” Hawker asked. “It’s Dan Blaze. The singer.”
“Singer?” Tess asked.
“Entertainer,” Blaze said.
“I guess you’d need to have young kids to know,” Hawker said. “I took my son to see him in Melbourne the year before last. The Marvel Stadium was completely sold out. Had to be fifty thousand people there. Sure, half were parents, but I think we enjoyed it as much as our kids.”
“You’re a children’s entertainer?” Tess asked, turning to Blaze.
Blaze shrugged.
“Not a mercenary?” she asked.
Blaze gave another wordless shrug.
“He’s world-famous,” Hawker said. “You’ve got a TV show, too, don’t you mate?”
“I’m only famous among the under-tens,” Blaze said.
“Brendon’s a fan,” Shannon said a little too quickly. “Though I am, too, now.”
“I think we all are, now,” Molly said.
“You’re a kids’ entertainer?” Tess asked again. “How did you end up here?”
“During the summer, I tour,” Blaze said. “During the spring I record the album. In the autumn, I record the TV show. It’s basic numeracy, literacy, and life skills, with a dash of music and a lot of animals. During the winter, I play gigs at children’s hospitals. That’s what I was doing in Vancouver. I helped as much as I could while the kids were evacuated, and ended up on a plane sent down here. After that, it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ended up on a bus full of convicts on my way to Durham, and to a noose. And now I’m here.”
It was, she realised, the most she’d heard him say.
“I’ve got a few more questions about Durham,” Tess said. “But I might ask them when we’re back in Canberra. If you’re that good, that famous, I think we’ll stick you on the radio. It’ll be more popular than the prime minister’s broadcast. But one question, the penguins, what’s that about?”
“It’s his best song,” Shannon said with an eagerness betraying that, perhaps, she wasn’t too old to still enjoy the man’s music.
“The song which brought me fame,” Blaze said. “The penguin became a recurring theme. It’s a lesson about not giving in to fear, no matter how out of your depth you are. When it’s lost in the desert, alone and scared, what can a penguin do, except dance?”
“We’ll call that rule six,” Tess said.
Chapter 15 - Waves of Change
Ballina, New South Wales
“Rice and…” Tess sniffed the plastic tub. “Vegemite?”
“There was no beef at the airport,” Mick said. “I couldn’t find any bread. But there’s a lot of rice. Three C-17s full of it. American food aid, according to the packaging. Not sure how the planes ended up in Australia, because the pilots were gone. Reallocated. You know how it goes?”
“Sure,” she said, adjusting her position in the co-pilot’s seat before taking a spoonful. The rice was cold, but the flavour was perfect. “Are they using those C-17s for the parachute drop?”
“Yep. And between when they reached Australia and when they got to Ballina, no one thought to empty the cargo,” Mick said. “The Vegemite was part of a consignment intended for Brisbane, but redirected just after the outbreak.”
“You’re saying these planes, full of rice, were already at the airport?” Tess asked, spooning the umami-rich rice into her mouth.
“Parked on an access road, north of the runway. This is what happens when you reallocate people from jobs they know to where someone else thinks they’re needed.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” she said.
“What list?” he asked.
“Of things I need to investigate. The Durham Gas Refinery, the airport up at Darwin, Harris Global. Now this.”
“Harris Global? What did those crooks do now?”
“They run that place we stayed in last night,” Tess said. “Looks like an off-the-books opal mine. Biggest I’ve ever heard of. Hopefully that’s the extent of their deceit because they’re running about a third of our national production. Then you’ve got that bloke back there.”
“The convict who looks like a super-villain?” Mick asked.
“You’ve really got to start watching a different type of movie,” Tess said. “But yeah, him. He’s a kids’ entertainer. World-famous, apparently. Bruce took his boy to see him at the Marvel Stadium. Said it was sold out.”
“That bloke’s famous?”
“Apparently. He shouldn’t have been digging holes in Darwin, but performing on the radio for everyone. Then there’s this rice left to rot in the back of planes at the airport.”
“You need a team to investigate this,” Mick said.
“Like you?”
“Like a dozen flat-foots,” Mick said. “Maybe two dozen. Take over the AFP building in Canberra before Anna turns it into another hostel. But if the outback is nearly secure, and if you’re now a commissioner—”
“A deputy commissioner.”
“But if that’s who you are, and if that’s the job the likes of Erin Vaughn want you to do, you need a team. A pilot and plane, too. If a job’s to be done properly, it needs the proper tools.”
“You’re probably right,” she said, finishing the last of the bowl.
“I’m always right,” Mick said. “Rule twelve, that is. What do you want to do with the passengers when we land?”
“We’ll take Blaze and Toppley with us to Canberra,” Tess said. “I’ll say Toppley is working her sentence, but she can help run the airport. Maybe the entire city. I want to put Blaze on the radio. Hawker said he had a TV show, so we might stick him on the box, too. It’d be good for the kids to hear something other than the prime minister. Something uplifting. Something different. Speaking of which, has there been any news?”
“The opposite,” Mick said. “Radio’s playing up. Interference has been getting worse all night. All I can offer are some rumours. A few planes were expected before dusk, and never arrived. Soldiers from the Pacific islands, stationed at consulates, marine observatories, that type of place. Oh, but I did hear a story connected to those other warrants.”
“Warrants? Oh, of course. I forgot about those. What did you hear?”
“A couple of the helicopter pilots have been running a message-and-medic service between the camps. From what they said, there’s no crime been committed, no negligence either, not that’s worth us worrying about. Some of the pumps were missing their seals. They were sent to the wrong camps, but they stuck them on a trio of flat-beds, drove like demons, and should have everything working by now.”
“The desalination plant, or the power
station?”
“They reckon they’ll have fresh water by dawn, so I’d say both. Sounds like no crime, just very poor communication.”
“Tell me about it,” Tess said. “I’ll still have to investigate, but maybe we can let it slide. What’s wrong with the radio?”
“Solar flare, I reckon,” Mick said. “They warned this could be a very active year. Might have been what knocked out the satellites. You know half weren’t properly shielded?”
“Says who? And what happened to the other half?”
“It was in a documentary I watched.”
“A documentary or a movie?” Tess asked.
“Is there a difference? Speaking of movies, all this talk of mining, when we get back we should watch that film with the miners they send into space.”
“When we get back, I’m having a bath, then a sleep. How long until we land?”
“An hour or so,” Mick said.
“Then I’ll skip the sleep and go interview the witnesses.”
“The coast sounds fun,” Molly said. “Captain Hawker was telling us what the refugee camp is like, and it doesn’t sound bad.”
“If you like fish,” Shannon said.
“The entire coast is one giant barbie,” Hawker said. “They’re hauling it out of the sea faster than it can be processed. At the end of their shift, people all head to the beach, have a swim, and have a feed. It’s not a bad life.”
“What are they cooking on?” Tess asked.
“Coal,” Hawker said. “The spare from the power station.”
“So it smells of smoke and fish,” Shannon said. “I’m not complaining,” she added. “Not exactly. I just miss… I miss things being normal.”
“You and me both,” Tess said. “But the camps are working, then, Bruce?”
“Better than I expected,” he said. “Could do with sending some of the tucker to the outback. Before we were recalled for the Hawaiian operation, rations were getting thin. Looked like they had a canning operation up and running at Wooyung.”
Tess added that to her mental list, then decided it was getting so long, she was already forgetting things. “Do you have a spare bit of paper, and can I borrow your pen? Cheers. Now, tell me more about the camps.”
Life Goes On | Book 3 | While The Lights Are On [Surviving The Evacuation] Page 14
