The Lifeboat

by Keith Fenwick

  Sue was stunned by the sight, her mouth hanging open. For once she seemed lost for words as she watched the two of them. Meanwhile Trev, having seen his brother in action before, simply wandered up to the breakfast buffet with Wisneski and Shelly, who saw it as her duty to feed Dick, no doubt to keep his strength up.

  The man himself checked his mobile and then turned his attention to Sue, who appeared immune to his charms. Sue’s rebuff failed to have any noticeable impact on Dick, who was completely shameless in making a pass at her while his new squeeze was busily employed sorting out his breakfast.

  “How do you fit into the picture?” he asked cheerfully, sitting down beside Sue.

  Sue responded by getting off her chair and flouncing over to the buffet. Maybe she was not as immune from Dick’s rustic charms as she thought.

  “We should call ahead and announce our arrival to Bruce,” Wisneski said to Dick. They could call Bruce but there was no guarantee he would answer. “We need to make sure he will let us onto his property.”

  “Why wouldn’t he?” Sue asked. “After all, I am technically his wife and the mother of his child.”

  Given his own failed marriage Wisneski felt he wasn’t really qualified to state the obvious to Sue. However, one thing the Todd brothers appeared to share was a sense of humour, and they both snorted loudly at her comment.

  “I’ll call him and smooth the waters,” Dick announced. “But maybe someone can fill me in with a few more details here. Clearly Mr Harwood is not involved in any criminal enterprise but his activities have attracted a lot of attention and interest at senior government level. And to cap it all off there are some very odd goings-on around the world at the moment.” Dick had no firm information about the latter but he thought Wisneski might, so he was doing a bit of fishing. Shelly had fallen into his arms last night but there were some things she would not or could not talk about.

  “I’ll do the best I can,” Wisneski replied. “Mrs Harwood and Shelly will be able to fill in the details I haven’t been privy to. However, I suggest we do it somewhere a lot more discreet. Perhaps once we are on the road?”

  Trev glanced over at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. There were a lot of questions he wanted answered as well.

  “OK,” said Dick. “I’ll text and tell him we’re on our way.”

  Twenty-four

  While the situation was anything but normal on the Harwood farm, life had to go on and as Cyril had been away for a few weeks there was a bit to catch up on around the place. For a start, not only did his son have access to a spaceship, but Bruce also seemed to have a virtual alien on tap who communicated with him via some high-tech wireless process – and they were playing host to a couple of extremely odd people who were also most probably aliens.

  Cyril had failed to realise how odd Myfair and Leaf were when he had met them prior to the wedding. At that time, they had not stood out as being exceptional in any way, but in isolation there was clearly something different about them.

  To add to the surreal nature of the goings-on, armed police were also patrolling parts of the property. Not to stop them getting away, but to keep people from getting in or being too nosy. It appeared they had already chased away some unsavoury characters and he had overheard a couple of the younger policemen talking about the SAS roaming around the farm and the neighbouring bush, checking on things.

  Despite all these comings and goings, he and Bruce still had a farm to manage and stock to move.

  As always, Rangi had everything under control while they were away. Cyril had looked after the Tauroa farm when Rangi and his family went on holiday, unless they were travelling together, something which happened less often as they got older, as Rangi decided he preferred to stick closer to home.

  “OK, so if you can drag yourself away from saving the world for long enough, can you go and check the breeding ewes out here,” Cyril instructed Bruce, stabbing the farm map hanging in his office off the kitchen with his finger. “They’re in paddock 35 and should start lambing in three weeks or so, then run your eyes over the ewe hoggets over here.” Cyril pointed to one of the adjacent paddocks right out on the boundary. “I’ll have a look at the breeding cows on my way out to pick up your mother. OK?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I’ll also check in with Rangi on the way to see if there’s anything else going on I need to know about.”

  “OK,” Bruce repeated. “I’ll head out after breakfast.”

  The two men then sat around the kitchen table with a pot of coffee, munching through a decent breakfast of eggs and home-kill bacon.

  “Is there anything else I need to look at while I’m out there?”

  “I don’t think so.” Cyril paused for a moment. “As to the immediate future as it looks like you might not be around for a while, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle most things while you’re doing whatever you’re doing. But I’ll probably need a hand with docking this year. Rangi and I normally share the load with your mum and Doris and any kids hanging around but we’re finding it more and more of struggle each year.”

  “No problem,” Bruce replied through a mouthful of egg and toast. “You know I can probably get a machine built to do the docking.”

  “And you also need to think about your long-term plans,” Cyril continued as though he hadn’t heard Bruce.

  “Yeah, I know,” Bruce replied. “I’ll think of something.”

  “I’m sure you will, son,” Cyril replied with a hint of despair mostly lost on his son. After years of procrastinating, once he had made the decision, he had been looking forward to Bruce taking over the farm, and easing into some form of semi-retirement. Now it looked like any proper handover was not going to happen anytime soon unless he handed over the reins to a manager, an outsider, to look after the place until Bruce was ready. Something no Harwood had done in 150-odd years of farming on the property. Though, in some ways he was not so sure he wanted to retire, he might still have a lot of years in him yet and he was going to need something to do.

  Oblivious to his father’s inner turmoil, Bruce dropped his plate and mug in the sink instead of rinsing them and putting them in the dishwasher, an action sure to rile his mother if and when she came home. Bruce was oblivious to this habit, which irked his mother more than him smoking at the kitchen table, as he left the room in search of his boots.

  “OK, shut up, ya useless bastards,” Bruce yelled at the dogs who started barking frantically as he approached the kennels. He let his own dogs out one by one and ignored the anxious whining of his father’s dogs who were also champing at the bit to get out and charge around the place. He watched the dogs with some amusement as they ran off across the paddock and did their business before trotting back towards him.

  “Now what, boss?” Cop asked.

  “Work time, time to earn your keep, you senile old shit,” Bruce responded to the old heading dog. “You’re getting fat and lazy, and if you’re not careful I’ll take my bike to the back of the farm and make you run all the way.”

  Bruce had no intention of taking the farm bike. The dogs would be stuffed and next to useless before they even got halfway there – they were as unfit as fuck. Besides, he wanted to see how his new ute coped with the farm tracks. Actually, he was just keen to drive the ute around the place. He had never owned a new vehicle before and driving it was a real pleasure that he might not have many more opportunities to enjoy, with all the drama going on at the moment.

  He dropped the tailgate and let the dogs leap up onto the deck instead of trying to clamber their way over the tailgate or the sides of the deck – they would scratch the shit out of the bodywork.

  He set off up the track leading to the back of the farm. As he pulled away from the first gate he noticed Punch had leapt off the back of the ute and was now chasing him. “Silly bastard,” Bruce muttered as he stepped on the gas and the ute leapt forward. “No you don’t,” he grunted, as the dog stretched out to jump back onto the back
of the ute.

  Bruce forgot about the dog as his mobile whistled. It was Dick’s text, sent an hour or so earlier and only delivered after the Transcendent had intercepted and then decided against censoring it. The message distracted him for a moment and his foot came off the throttle as he reached out to check who it was from.

  He assumed the text would be from Dick and he also had an idea what Dick wanted. This was just enough hesitation for Punch. He was never going to make it onto the deck in one great leap. He did manage to get his paws over the tailgate and hung there for a moment, his back legs scrabbling for purchase, which he finally found on the bumper and tow bar and then clawed his way over the top and landed with a thump loud enough to get Bruce’s attention and then lay on the deck panting with a satisfied grin on his face.

  Bruce stopped the ute and went around to the back to have a look at the damage. Punch got to his feet and tried to lick his face but Bruce pushed him away.

  “Fuck!” was all he said as he found two sets of score marks down the tailgate from Punch’s rear claws. He should have used a trailer for the dogs as his old man had suggested earlier. He glared at the dog who was still trying to lick his face and had a look of such complete adoration for him, Bruce decided not to whack him one.

  “Quite right too,” Cop told him. “It’s not the stupid dog’s fault you didn’t use the trailer for us.”

  “And you can shut up too.” Can the old shit read my mind as well?

  “And he loves you.”

  “Huh?” Bruce pushed Punch away and got back into the ute and checked the text that had so rudely interrupted his day.

  ‘Fine’, he texted Dick back, then texted Detective Moore to tell him he was expecting some visitors who should be let onto the property.

  The view from the back of the farm was nothing less than spectacular. The property was bounded on one side by the harbour, and on another two sides the Harwood and Tauroa properties had a shared boundary. The fourth boundary was a block of Department of Conservation bush. Northward pasture and blocks of bush rolled on for as far as the eye could see. Southward the view was similar, though in the distance you could just make out the edge ever advancing sprawl of the big smoke. It never ceased to amaze him how they were so close to the city yet remote enough from it and lacking so many modern conveniences – like fast broadband and mobile coverage townies took for granted.

  He pulled up at the gate atop a ridge that opened into paddock 35. On his left was the block of bush. Bruce was sure very few people knew this block of almost virgin forest existed because he’d never seen anyone in there except the odd ranger and goat culler.

  In his youth Bruce thought the ridge would be the ideal house site, and he always imagined if he got an opportunity this would be the spot he would build a home for himself. As he got older he realised the cost would most likely be too prohibitive to be practical. Simply bulldozing a decent all-weather drive to the house would cost tens of thousands – even if they could get resource consent to do so – let alone maintaining it.

  The dogs leapt off the back of the ute. Now it had its first set of scratches, Bruce was not so concerned about the marks the over-eager dogs were putting on the deck. Once on the ground the dogs milled around the ute, having a good sniff while waiting for Bruce to give them some commands. Bruce had a pretty good view of the ewes from the ridge but decided he should take a walk along the ridgeline to check further on.

  He was, he reflected, more isolated this minute than he had been – even on Skid – for a very long time. He paused for a moment and looked back the way he had come, towards the homestead and the beach down the valley. He could just make out a little white dot rolling down the driveway towards the main gate into the property. It was his old man in his ute, he assumed, on his way to town to pick up his mum.

  Another dot followed by a cloud of dust was heading down the road towards the gate. Dick maybe, Bruce thought, and any passengers he had picked up along the way. Trev, at least. He assumed Dick would have some passengers, but he had no idea who would be accompanying him.

  Bruce gazed at the sky and imagined satellites and possibly even drones watching his every move and suddenly felt quite vulnerable out in the open. If they really wanted to, he was sure the Americans could send a drone over and attempt to take him out somehow. He was not sure he was all that confident, despite the Trancendent’s assurances, they were capable of protecting him when the chips were down. Sure, the technology at their fingertips was awesome, but couldn’t they eventually be overwhelmed by sheer weight of numbers at the end of the day?

  No, we couldn’t, the ever-present Transcendent responded. And no, they can’t.

  Twenty-five

  “Pull over now, I think I’m going to vomit.”

  “I can’t just pull over here,” Dick snapped with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “We can’t just pull over here, we’re on the bloody motorway in rush-hour traffic. You’ll just have to hold on until I can find a place to stop.” Dick was discovering that Sue was a bloody difficult woman to deal with under any circumstances. He struggled to put his finger on what irritated him most about her, but even in the very short time he had known her it was a longish list. It was mostly the sense of entitlement, imagining the world revolved about her, that was the main irritant. Couldn’t she see where they were? Not only were they on the motorway, but the shoulder where they could potentially have pulled over was closed for roadworks.

  “I can’t stop here,” he repeated. Fuckit, he thought, she’ll just make a big mess If I don’t and I will never get the smell of spew out of the car. What’s more, I’ll have to clean it up.

  There should have been far more important issues on his mind but the thought of having to clear up after Sue really annoyed him. “See if you can find something to spew in back there,” he added unhelpfully. He swung around to check on Sue. Wisneski and Shelly, sitting on either side of her, didn’t look all that happy at the prospect Sue vomiting on them and had both wound down their windows.

  “Why are the windows open? I’m cold,” Sue whined. “Why can’t you stop? Have you got any water? It might make me feel better.”

  “For fuck’s sake, woman, the answer is the same it was five minutes ago. No! Look, we can stop up ahead for a cup of coffee,” Dick added as they passed a sign advertising a roadside café several kilometres up the road. “Think you can hold on until then?”

  Sue had been a constant trial since they had all gathered together for breakfast earlier in the morning. Her continual nagging, topped off with the strong sense of entitlement, was getting on everyone’s nerves. Everyone’s nerves, that is, except Trev’s, who seemed to find the whole situation most amusing. Maybe he was used to it or had some other motive, his brother thought, as he contemplated whether they could somehow maroon Sue when they stopped.

  Perhaps Sue was acutely aware she no longer had any leverage regarding the Skidians – she was only there, had only been saved – if that was the correct term – because she was Bruce’s wife. Well this was the reason, Dick thought, Bruce had made sure she was released with his brother. He was to discover later Bruce had simply felt sorry for her in a moment of weakness and the last thing he expected was to find Sue tagging along with Trev and Dick. Even discovering Shelly and Wisneski had decided to join them was less of a surprise to him than finding they had Sue in tow.

  Dick was struggling to understand what Bruce had ever seen in her in the first place. She was a decent-looking woman. Unfortunately, any physical attraction was counteracted when she opened her mouth, which didn’t remain closed for any length of time.

  Sue’s constant whinging made it challenging for Dick to get a handle on the conversation Wisneski and Shelly were having as they talked across Sue. They seemed to be putting some kind of evacuation plan together. He couldn’t make any sense of it but he was intrigued nevertheless because all three of them clammed their mouths firmly shut when he tried to get involved in the discussion. Even Trev knew far mo
re about what was going on than he did, which wound him up even further, because his brother was a well-known idiot.

  Thankfully he pulled into the café before Sue vomited over the car and the back seat passengers. While she made for the toilet and the others ordered coffee, Dick took the opportunity to text Bruce and let him know they were on their way, with a rough ETA.

  It was a relief when they finally rolled through the main gate of the Harwood property several hours later. There was a collective sigh from the back seat as the three Americans took in the spectacular view as they wound out of a block of forestry and onto the farm proper.

  The driveway was framed on one side by the harbour and the other by a steep-sided valley. To Dick and he supposed, his brother it was an awesome spot, but not remarkable. The gateway to their own family property on the opposite coast was easy on the eye as well. Dick reckoned the view from their homestead was equal, if not a little superior, to the one in front of him at the moment.

  Then as they rolled up to the main house, Dick had to change his mind. The Harwood family had a truly spectacular part of the world to live and work. The Todd family farm was a spot of beauty which made him realise just how lucky he and his family, in fact the whole country, were to live in a place where such beauty was still so easily accessible. But the Harwood property was something else again and it was a wonder some developer hadn’t come along, made the family a ridiculous offer and snapped the place up.

  “Nice spot,” he remarked to his brother.

  “It’s simply awesome,” Sue said from the back seat. “Bruce always used to talk about how beautiful his home was but I never really believed him until … now …” Her voice trailed off with a hint of regret.

  It was an oddly assorted bunch of people that greeted them as Dick pulled up in front of the old homestead sitting on a low rise a couple of hundred metres away from the high-tide mark.