“What?” Kwong asked.
“You will scare the heck out of your soldier buddies,” Kuparr said with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face.
“Why’s that?” Kwong said with a grimace, not really wanting to know.
“You look like me,” Kuparr told him.
Kwong lifted his arms and saw he was coated in wet ash and he giggled. “Oh, yeah. How about that?”
When they walked back into the entrance, they found the two young Jawindjira men waiting for them with grim faces. A body, curled like a child in its bed, lay in the grit behind them.
Keech was wedged against the wall, frozen in rigor mortis. His khaki uniform full of smoldering holes made by the drifting embers. He looked much smaller than Kwong remembered. The big man sat in the grit beside the body, and resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder he cried like a baby.
Survivors
Over the next hour, they struggled to maneuver themselves through the squeeze space, driven by their eagerness to leave the stinking sanctuary. The elders in the Jawindjira mob were laid flat on sleds of bark made from the converted platforms and pushed and pulled over the top of the debris pile.
Michael and Penny stared blankly as the others left the chamber, trapped behind a high wall they had built around them.
Stella collected several candle stubs on a strip of bark. She set them down. It took a while to get the tiny wicks to produce a flame, but eventually, there was enough light to see the two.
Michael folded his arms around his knees, hiding his face from the light. On occasion, he lifted his head to rub his palms against his forehead, as if to clear away images he did not want to see. His eyes were swollen and his face red and chafed, as if he might have been rubbing it a lot over the past days. Stella and Summer determined they would talk Michael and Penny into leaving the cave system, but their efforts met with little response.
Finally, after more than an hour, when they were alone in the chamber that almost became their tomb, Michael lifted his head to stare at Stella through hollow eyes.
“You never bloody give up, do you?”
“You should visit Franchette,” Stella told him gently. “She would like that, wouldn’t she?”
“The way we buried her—that was not correct,” Michael said.
Stella gave a nod of agreement. “It was the best we could do under the circumstances.”
“Franchette was a doctor…” Michael continued.
“And she wasn’t so well was she, Michael?” Stella asked, knowing she had to keep the man talking.
“She had the black dog—on and off—over the years,” he said.
He gazed down at Penny curled in his lap.
“I didn’t know,” Stella replied.
“She hid it very well most of the time,” he said. “It began soon after we arrived at Siding Spring. The move from Sydney was too much for her. It was my fault all along.”
Michael gave a long sigh and gently pushed Penny into a sitting position before he got slowly, painfully, to his feet. He brushed off his trousers and straightened his back with a groan.
“Come on, Penny. We move or we die in here.”
Penny stared up at the outstretched hand as if she gazed upon a strange creature.
“I can’t cry anymore,” she said.
She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her upright.
On The Road
“Unreal!” Taylor said when they reached the cliff that was formed like a wave and found the vehicles were not blackened wrecks.
“How the hell is it possible they survived the heat?”
“What kind of damage are we looking at?” Cameron asked after the Bushmaster and ambulance had been checked and the engines started successfully.
“Blistered paintwork, a blown headlight, and a burst tire on the ambulance we can change,” Taylor told him. “Pretty mile considering… I’m surprised the fuel tanks didn’t ignite!”
Cameron suggested to the Neville Combo that the tribe would do best to accompany them out of the wilderness although it was obvious enough to both men they were not going to fit everyone in the vehicles. Cameron carried on describing the Army camp as if it was indeed a workable proposition. There they would find ample medicines and all kinds of provisions.
Combo nodded his thanks, and Cameron thought he saw pity in the old man’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. He decided not to persist with the offer because it amounted to the old man having to make choices and splitting the group. Cameron knew Combo would never do that, but he felt he was right in making the offer anyway. It was only right, and the old man seemed to see it that way too.
“That lot says we should stay with them,” Aunty told him later. “They say they can show us other caves.”
“And eat what?” Taylor asked over his shoulder as he hunched beside the ambulance.
He leaned hard on the wheel brace one last time and satisfied with his work, he stood up and slapped the ash and dirt from his hands.
“Where are they going to collect their bush tucker from now? There’s nothing left. Look around you!”
He gestured at the burned countryside.
“There’s food in the ground,” The old lady replied, her hands planted on her hips. “You have to know where to dig. There are fish in the river the other side of those hills over there. That’s the side that was sheltered from them meteoroids. There’s no need to go hungry around here when you know where to go. We have had bushfires through here before today!”
“We are going back to base, Corporal. Right?” Kwong asked, turning to the corporal.
“If we still have one,” Cameron replied glumly. “We are going back to find out,” he added hastily when he saw the dismay on the faces of his men.
“The elders have told me that was just the beginning,” Aunty Wanganeen said. “They know all the old stories.”
“I’m too young to know all that stuff,” she said with a chuckle.
“Maybe we should wait around a while,” Darren suggested.
“The last meteor shower was two days ago,” Michael replied. “There’s a pattern to all the meteors and earthquakes. I noticed it before we went into the cave. All that has stopped now. The pattern is broken. So I think it safe to conclude the worst is over for the time being. Anyway, it probably doesn’t matter a lot whether we stay or go.”
“What do you mean?” Storm asked.
Michael shrugged. “I’ll know more about what we have in front of us when I have a way to gather and sort data. I’d like to get back to Siding Spring—or whatever remains of it. I may find equipment I can use. There may find equipment I can use. Going by the news we saw in Marsfield some of the buildings might be intact. Arnold’s cottage was standing. On the other hand, if everywhere on the continent resembles what we see here, we are in real trouble. But as we have seen, our trucks have survived and that to me means we must have hope.”
There were no shots fired on them as they exited the hills and nary a sign of life. The surface of the road was shattered, crushed, and blasted. In places, it had been melted into oblivion.
Once, in the distance, they saw a single vehicle traveling the main road. It was a half a mile from them and traveling fast over a damaged surface—too fast. Not long after, they caught up with it. It had been a farm truck before they ran over the rim of a crater and overturned. The fuel tank had ignited and by the time the group arrived the fire had done its worst and died out. The burned out vehicle was too hot to approach. There was little to salvage but for a child’s stuffed toy and a plastic bottle of Cola two-thirds full lying on the road behind the wreckage. They moved on.
Clouds coiled and spun to form random twisters that constantly threatened to extend to the ground. While the tornadoes remained a distance from the road, they were always in sight. On occasion, they would see one touch down. The tendrils would skip briefly across the plains only to withdraw back into the greater mass above. It was an uncertain sky that reached down to make s
ure the earth was still there.
Each bridge they arrived at was either ripped from the sides of the bank or lay smashed and twisted across the riverbed. Twice they had to travel more than thirty miles before they could cross over a stretch of shallow water to the other side. Along the way, they were able to siphon gas from parked vehicles as they passed through the remains of empty communities.
The journey home took much longer than did their escape. At sunset, they stopped to sleep. It was a strangely serene evening with no noise or movement outside to cause them to stir from their rough beds. In the morning they resumed their journey.
There was little variation to be seen in the land they drove through. Gray ash and the blackened remains of trees and structures, often still smoking and stinking of death. They were ready to give up to utter despondency, by the time the Warrumbungles came into sight. But by then things were changing for the better. They began to see patches of green and stands of trees as they drew closer to Mount Woorat. With spirits lifting, they became animated in their conversation.
It occurred to the travelers they were inordinately lucky, but they were under no illusion that their run of good luck was going to last forever. It was just a matter of time rather than chance.
Storm spotted the turnoff ahead and used the horn of the ambulance to alert the Bushmaster.
Cameron’s reply over the radio was barely discernible but for a burst of static.
“Repeat that!” Darren yelled into the mic to no avail.
He worked the channel selector back and forward, but it did no good. All he could get from the corporal was an angry stream of garbled words. Then, finally, they caught a couple of sentences.
“Why—are—you…? Oh, for Chrissakes! Can’t you work a radio?” Cameron’s voice exclaimed.
“Storm wants to try one of the local farms,” Darren repeated. “We are coming up to the turnoff.”
The radio crackled and all they could hear was a staccato of words that made no sense. Darren slapped the radio in frustration.
“I don’t know if he heard us,” he said to Storm.
“Do you think the problem is with our radio or theirs?” Storm asked him.
“It’s as likely to be whatever is above those clouds,” Darren finally replied. “Let’s get ahead of the Bushmaster. They don’t know where to go.”
Storm peered around the dash. “Where do I find the siren?”
Darren flicked a switch and sat back with a smile at the sound of the wail.
Storm planted the accelerator to the floor, and the ambulance howled past the troop carrier.
Darren looked into the side mirror and caught the startled expression of the corporal.
“We ought to check out the town first, don’t you think?” He asked Storm.
“Yeah we could, but look at the roofs of the farm buildings over there,” Storm replied. “I don’t see any holes or signs of a fire.”
He glanced back at Darren when he got no immediate answer. “Everyone’s tired out. I’m tired too!”
“You know—when we first met—I was so grateful you showed up,” Darren told him.
“It would have been lonely being by yourself all the time,” Storm said.
“I’ve often been by myself,” Darren told him. “It can be fun not having others around.”
“How’s that?” Storm asked.
“It frees you to do things people are afraid of trying,” Darren said.
“I guess,” Storm replied, not really seeing where Darren was going. “Like doing what, for example?”
“Ah—I moved into that cottage where you found me,” Darren told him. “I was living on the other side of town.”
“So you are not the keen gardener I thought you were,” Storm said with a chuckle.
“Nah, not so much interested in gardening,” Darren said. “I spend most of my free time surfing the Net. Learning about things. How things work, mostly.”
“You mean the car in the garage wasn’t yours?” Storm asked, the realization hitting him all of a sudden.
“No,” Darren replied.
“You really didn’t have a clue if it was running or not, did you?” Storm asked him.
“Not really,” Darren admitted. “But—you know. I thought the ambulance would be more useful than someone’s panel van or whatever it turned out to be.”
“But I never got that chance to find out did I?” Storm asked and gave a forced laugh.
“No,” Darren said laughing. “That’s true. You have to admit, though, I was right about the ambulance, wasn’t I? It’s served us well. What with the medical kit, and the extra bed, and the siren.”
“It was probably only some old panel van inside the garage after all,” Storm continued.
“Yee-aaahh,” Darren said with a chuckle, pleased that Storm saw the humor of it all. “I was pretty worried you weren’t going to take me with you. Ah—I wanted to be able to offer you something in return.”
Storm nodded his head. “You are one damn sharp customer, Darren.”
“Not so much,” Darren said. “It all comes down to laying out the honey if you want to have bees.”
Storm glanced at Darren. He had no idea what laying honey out for bees meant and decided it was best for the time being that he didn’t ask.
Nothing had changed. That was the first thought Storm had when they got out of the ambulance.
“Looks like the farm dogs ran off,” Storm said, gazing about him. He saw the front door to the kitchen ajar. He could see the farmer’s truck had not moved from the place it had been parked when he last saw it.
Darren walked up the front steps and rapped on the doorframe.
“Don’t bother,” Storm called out to him. “There’s no one here.”
Darren glanced back at Storm who stood in the middle of the drive. “Oh—yeah,” Darren replied. “Might as well consider this is ours then.”
Storm stayed by the back of the ambulance. He was waiting for Cameron to put down the laptop, ready to ask the corporal what they should be doing when Matthew walked up the side of the Bushmaster toward him.
“What’s the deal?” Matthew called out to Storm. “Why did you want us to stop here?”
“I thought we might stay the night,” Storm said with a grin. Relieved to be talking to Matthew for a change and not to Darren.
“You’re not in a hurry to go into town, are you?”
“Nah! Not really. I was working on and off for the farmer who lived here. I know the place pretty well. The house has plenty of bedrooms, and there’s a cottage out the back with bunks for the Army boys. There’s fresh water from the bore and even a diesel generator in the shed. Harris might even have rigged the generator to run the house. We are going to need to check on that.”
“Good thinking, I suppose,” Matthew agreed. “The town might be dangerous too.”
Cameron was checking the map on the laptop. He was also keeping an eye on the soldiers who were standing around the back with the refugees, smoking cigarettes and muttering among themselves.
The corporal was doing his best to act languid and relaxed, but despair born of a nagging doubt was growing inside him like a tumor despite his best efforts to shake it off.
Darkness would fall in three hours, and his men were keen to be back on the road. Boyd’s crushed fingers certainly needed urgent medical attention. The man’s hand could likely be saved once they got back to the base. But what were they going to find when they reached Gwabegar?
“What have you lot decided?” Cameron asked Matthew who had returned from his talk with Storm.
“Storm wants to stay here the night,” Matthew told him.
“Well, we’re carrying on to Gwabegar,” Cameron said. “If you lot want to stay that’s your choice.”
He looked sharply at Matthew to make sure his meaning was understood. Once the Bushmaster left so did any protection they could offer the civvies.
Michael and the others were already standing beside their bags piled
on the grassy verge.
“Is that everything you want from the truck?” Cameron asked, casting his eye over the group.
“I think we’re all right,” Michael replied.
“How long will you be here for?” Cameron asked. “Any idea?”
“A day or two, maybe longer,” Michael told him. “It looks comfortable enough. And it looks to be undamaged.”
“Unless you find better?” Cameron suggested.
“I’ll be traveling to Siding Spring, first chance I get,” Michael told him.
The idea was not at all appealing but he had to see what could be salvaged.
“Okay.” Cameron stretched out a hand to the man. “You take care, Sir.”
“You too,” Michael said, shaking Cameron’s hand warmly. “I hope we see you again.”
Cameron looked startled at the thought. “We could be back. All depends… You got the radio in the ambulance. Ah—if you need us, I mean.”
Michael smiled. “Thank you.”
As he watched the soldiers jump into the back of the carrier it occurred to Michael that the two groups might be the only survivors in the region, and judging by the look on the corporal’s face, Cameron had come to a similar conclusion.
Finders Keepers
Darren wasted no time, snatching the earliest opportunity to look through the house. The large living room was dominated by a heavy hardwood table. It was magnificent, and he figured it would have cost the farmer a fortune. Although he might have admitted, at a push, that he knew very little about furniture, he could tell an antique when he saw one. It would surely have come from an old homestead since it was just the kind of table found in the home of a wealthy land-owning family. There were plenty of homes like that in Victoria.
He had checked them out on the Internet long before this day. He remembered at the time, he was weighing up where he would like to live, should he ever came across a million dollars to call his own.
Jubilee Year: A Science Fiction Thriller (Erelong Book 1) Page 27
