ILLUSIONS AND LIES: Chapter 6

We sped across the countryside, leaving our pursuing adversary to the whim of a farmer who may or may not have been carrying a weapon as he investigated who was tearing up his crop. I hoped, for the sake of the farmer, that he opt against the use of firearms –I had no doubt that the man in the white sports-car would be packing, and his mates, who were close behind, too.

Now that we were on the open road, heading west, I had a moment to breathe, and to ask where the hell we were going.

“The Resistance headquarters is deep in the Kakadu rainforest. That’s where we’re going,” Abigail answered.

“Kakadu? That seems like an odd place to set up HQ.”

“There’s a concentration of energy there that makes it impossible for the NDU to track us. Essentially, we’re invisible.”

“Richie, did you remember to get my puppy?”

Neither of my children had spoken for so long that Sarah’s words startled me. Her moderate tone was also a little shocking –I expected her to be a panicked mess.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t have time to get everything,” Richard sounded genuinely upset by his failure to provide Sarah with the small comfort of her favourite soft-toy.

“You can cuddle me,” Bailey offered.

“Okay,” Sarah replied, before turning her attention to me. “Why was that man chasing us, Mummy?”

Before I could answer, the UHF radio crackled and the voice coming through the speaker sounded irate.

“You imbecile. How could you let them lose you?”

“I’m sorry Sir. I didn’t…” The other man didn’t let him finish.

“I’m coming round from the south side. Meet me on the highway, beside the Bluebird Motel. We’re going to have to call in the Soul-seekers.”

The static was thick as the other man answered and I didn’t understand what he said. Then nothing. We were now out of range and the silence of the radio was somehow more disconcerting than the voices had been.

I thought about the last words I’d heard. I didn’t know what a Soul-seeker was, but I knew I didn’t want to find out. Bailey, it seemed, wasn’t so unnerved by the prospect of knowing what could be so heinous to warrant a name like Soul-seeker. His voice was filled with the inquisitive innocence of a child to whom this level of danger was an alien thing.

“What’s a soul-seeker?”

Richard glanced over his shoulder at me and raised an eyebrow, but it was Abigail who answered.

“A Soul-seeker is a very unfriendly thing, Bailey. But you needn’t worry, myself, and Richard here, have a knack for fending off unfriendly things.”

“What’s fending mean?”

The three of us, the grown-ups, laughed at the simplicity of his question, and Bailey took offence. He folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” I took his hand in mine. “Fending off means to keep something away, to defend against it. Like when Harry Potter fends off Lord Voldemort in The Goblet of Fire, but doesn’t kill him. Do you understand?”

By this point we were passing the last of the sporadically positioned houses on the outskirts of the suburbs, heading toward the open red-dirt plains of Western Queensland. Those last few houses were mostly timber-clad homes, covered in black mould that appeared as though it had been sprayed on deliberately to conceal some secret past, and too many dirty windows to count, like a hundred murky eyes watching us as we passed by.

“Yeah, I get it,” Bailey answered. “But why are they chasing us?” He reiterated Sarah’s earlier question.

“Because you’re special, Mate,” Richard didn’t hesitate a response. “These guys don’t like us because of what we can do.”

“What can we do?”

“Yes, Richard. What can we do?” I joined Bailey’s query.

Richard just smiled and stared out at the road. I thought he was ignoring the question, until a whirlwind began to take shape on the roadside ahead. It started as a small swirl, picking up dust and leaves, and grew. Soon it was as high as a high-rise building and as wide as the Sydney Harbour Bridge, and tearing up trees and picking up rocks from the open field before us. It was a tornado without the dark clouds to form it.

“Okay, Richard. Stop showing off,” Abigail smacked him on the arm as she spoke. “No need to destroy the countryside by way of bragging.”

His shoulders slumped and the manufactured tornado waned to an eddying wind. The dust settled and it was gone.

“That was cool, Richie. Do it again.”

“No, Honey, Richie can’t do it again,” I eyed Richard from the backseat. “What the hell did you do that for? I thought they didn’t know where you were because you haven’t used your powers for so long –you just screwed that up didn’t you?”

“They saw me at your house, remember? My cover was already blown.” He shot me a look that reminded me of Bailey when I permitted him to have ice-cream before dinner. “Do you have any idea how amazing it feels to use my powers after all these years? It’s like being let out of solitary confinement to absolute freedom.” And with that he lifted the water which was flowing under the bridge up ahead and formed a tunnel of turbulent liquid. Richard controlled the overpass of water with precision as he drove the car beneath it.

Once we were through, the water receded obediently, and Richard smiled a gleaming smile that lit his eyes like two twinkling sapphires. It was the happiest I had ever seen him.

I don’t remember falling asleep but I must have. When my eyes opened it was dark outside and a light spattering of rain tapped at the car as it moved along the highway. Abigail and Richard were speaking in quiet murmurs and both Bailey and Sarah slumbered deeply on either side of me –Sarah tucked against my ribs, a single string of drool stretching from her mouth to my shirt; and bailey with the side of his face pressed to the door, his legs splayed across my lap.

“Where are we?” I yawned as I spoke, the words coming out somewhat unintelligible.

“Sleeping Beauty, you’re awake!”

I did a double take, as the voice came from the wrong side of the vehicle. Richard was now the passenger while Abigail was at the wheel. Richard turned in his seat so he was facing me.

“We just passed Mount Isa about twenty minutes ago. We’re going to stop soon, get some rest. Though, you clearly don’t need any.”

“Then why stop? Why not keep going? I’ll drive for a while so you both can rest.”

“Abigail needs to pick something up.”

I looked to Abigail. “What could you be picking up way out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“I have a cabin a few kilometres up the road. There’s something there I need.”

I didn’t ask any more questions, just listened to the even hum of the engine and watched as the sky cleared, exposing the stars which glittered like so many pinprick diamonds in the inky blackness.

Soon Abigail turned the car down a skinny dirt road, more of track than a road. The dust settled gently in the headlights as the Monaro came to a gentle halt in front of a ramshackle building. The corrugated iron, making up the walls and roof of this insufficient shack, was dotted with jagged holes of orange rust. The rust crept from the holes and spread across the tin, coating the shack with dirty orange corrosion. It didn’t look very inviting, or very weatherproof for that matter.

Surrounding the shack were a dozen Bottle Brush peppered with vibrant red blossoms. Farther out, towering gums as far as the eye could see –which wasn’t very far in the diminished light of the fallen night. Though, the moon was offering a partial substitute, bathing the land in a macabre glow.

I shuddered at the haunting ambience as I stepped from the vehicle, towing a torpid Sarah and a yawning Bailey with me, some mumbled comments and questions about where we were and why did they have to get out of the car. Then silent obedience, only because they both were too tired to argue.

Stepping across the threshold into the old, run-down tin shed, I expected to see a dusty floor made up of rotting boards, exposed beams half eaten by termites, and maybe a few nailed on shelves holding ten-year-old cans of paint and bottles of poison, dirty, with labels so faded you couldn’t tell what usable product they had once contained. Instead I walked in, carrying Sarah now and with Bailey clutching my hand, to an entirely different scene.

Abigail entered first, lighting a number of candles and a gas lantern so the rest of us could see our way.

A steel kitchen sink against the farthest wall was situated beneath a modest window that overlooked the expanse of uninhabited bush. Under it were two doors attached to a small kitchen cabinet. The interior walls were all lined and well-worn linoleum covered the floors. Antique-looking timber cupboards sat at the heads of a single bed to my right, and a double bed to my left.

   All the bed clothes looked in good condition and clean. The pillows, fluffed and plump, beckoned my weary head to them. But I would not sleep more, not now.

   The paint on the walls and cabinets was faded and peeling. I had no doubt that, being that old, it was lead based paint, but I had no intention of doing any renovations and my kids had both grown past the stage of gnashing their teeth on random objects, so I didn’t give it another thought. The linoleum had cracks and holes and was well worn in a number of places. All in all, this place wasn’t so bad. In fact, I promptly felt very comfortable… and safe. Which was a pretty big deal by this point.

Bailey and Sarah had done enough sleeping for now and were showing signs of life and excitement at having a new domain to explore. They poked around the small space asking a million questions about what everything was, and could they play with this, or jump on that. They climbed on, and under, the beds, they poked through the drawers in one of the cupboards. It was at that point I had to remind them of their manners. Abigail riffled through one of the drawers herself and produced a few sheets of paper, some tired looking markers and three tattered books with familiar cartoon characters on their fronts. The kids happily accepted when she offered the objects to them.

I sat on the edge of one of the beds and Richard joined me while Abigail busied herself in the small kitchenette. It wasn’t long before the scent of chicken broth filled the small space. My stomach growled in anticipation, so empty it hurt a little. It was then that I realised Bailey and Sarah must be famished –none of us had eaten anything since leaving the hospital ten or more hours earlier.

And when the chicken noodle soup was ready the kids scoffed it, and an entire loaf of crusty bread, without a word.