Recalling Destiny

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Recalling Destiny Page 54

by Michael Blinkhoff


  During these meal times, Truck made a habit out of jumping onto the laptop and searching the web for news reports, hoping to keep in touch with any current events. But he seemed to be the only person showing any interest in it, the others weren’t concerned with news in the slightest.

  “The news is important guys.” he exclaims, feeling slightly segregated from everyone else.

  “There’s no good in the news and no news in the good,” Alison speaks up, chewing her food noisily as Truck sits there transfixed.

  “Hundreds of millions of people are dead, are you kidding me. People are important. We need to know what’s caused all this, how else are we to know if we don’t listen to the news? How else are we going to keep touch with the world while we’re here? Just today there are more reports of deaths, this time of negroid men, in large quantities. Don’t you even want to know why?”

  “If you were meant to know then you would know,” she replies simply. “And I wouldn’t trust the news to inform me of anything useful.”

  “Why?”

  “What’s the media motivated by Truck? Money? Power? Control of information? Sure, they may act under the pretence of bringing you the most important stories from around the world, but who selects what stories are told and the manner in what they are told. The news dictates to you, you have no power over what happens during its broadcast, you are fed what they believe you need to be fed to control an outcome they designate.”

  “And who’s in control of them, who tells them what to show you?” Alison laughs. “Your best choice is to accept that it’s propaganda rubbish and ignore it.”

  “Well that’s silly, we’re in a situation like this and you want to ignore everything? This guy at the U.N investigation, he claims to have evidence that proves it was a terrorist attack.”

  “Oh bullshit!” Alison blurts out loudly in response. “That was no terrorist act.”

  “Then why the hell are they saying it is?”

  “People in power say what people in power want to say, so that they may keep their power. Information is their power Truck, so why would they share it with you?”

  “Because they have a responsibility to, that’s why they are elected to office, to serve the people.”

  “Oh god,” Alison throws up her arms in resignation. “Truck, all they do, and all the media do is subjugate you to their own self-motivated ideals. If they want you to think something is bad then they will tell a story showing that it is bad. If they want to overthrow a government leader, they run a story portraying him in a bad light so that the people overthrow him. If they want to scare the people they will conjure an enemy and make you fear him, even bring him to your very doorstep so that your fear is so great you allow the government to act on your behalf, to rule over you.”

  “What?” Truck’s back straightened. “You know, I served in the Middle East thank you very much!”

  “Then you are a fool for following the idiot that led you in there.”

  “Take that back!”

  “Truck, the sooner you realise you’re being lied to, about everything, the sooner you will come to realise the truth, the same truth George Orwell wrote about. You say you served? Well you’re right, you served somebody else’s interest’s, like a pawn in a much bigger game.”

  “So what, it’s all some big conspiracy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What rubbish.”

  “Truck, tell me what research have you done on the things you’ve learnt?”

  “What? Like the army?”

  “Sure, start there.”

  “The army is there to protect the people, to serve the country.”

  “And what is a country?”

  “A nation, a people united.”

  “And what research have you done on what nations are, what countries are and what they’re citizens are? Why they go to war, why they legalise killing?”

  “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Look into it my friend, consider what countries actually are and then we can have this conversation again, until then you’re poorly misinformed my friend. Without proper research your opinions are easily manipulated, you rely on media as a source of information.”

  “And what’ve you researched that makes you so pompous about it?”

  “Truck, don’t be afraid to ignore what everyone around you tells you to be the truth, don’t be afraid to question … everything.”

  “Right, well if you’re so smart then tell me who’s responsible for the terrorist attack then?”

  “The T.V says it’s a terrorist act, but I know that it’s not. Why would they want to cover it up? They see a threat if the people are informed. Real governance requires absolute honesty Truck and only a fool watches the media and expects to hear the truth from it.”

  “You can’t be serious Alison?”

  “Ok, let’s just say you’re a government and you find out that someone has been playing god with a metaphorical wand that can destroy them all. Do you then tell the whole world that the end is nigh and everyone should throw down arms and pray?”

  “No, you tell them a lie so they don’t panic. You tell them a lie so your power is still intact, as is their faith in the institutions you told them were important. You tell them a lie to keep them under control, you lie. You lie until truth is no longer of importance, only controlling the masses is.”

  “For if the masses realise the truth they will turn on the minority and tear their castles down, their power will have gone and the life of the privileged will become no different to that of a beggar.”

  “But then we have chaos.” Truck shrugs his shoulders.

  “We’re already in chaos, you just can’t see it because your source of information is corrupted. Man built such pretty walls around himself, detached himself from his reality, the earth and then forgot.”

  “Harry?” Truck went for aide. “What do you make of all of this?”

  “Yes. Truck?” he responds calmly as if it did not matter. “What’s matter?”

  Truck only shakes his head, Harrison has become increasingly distant to him since they’d arrived on Santorini. “What’s wrong with you man?”

  He shakes his head from side to side, as if trying to wake himself from his frequent day dreaming. “Sorry Truck, just a bit tired.”

  “Here, eat some breakfast,” he puts a plate down in front of him. “And what about you Smith, do you care about any of this?”

  No response comes from Smith, though he does appear to be paying attention to the screen for the first time since they’ve arrived.

  “Truck,” Harrison speaks up calmly. “Everything ok?”

  Truck exhales deeply, takes a moment to take another breath in and replies, “I should ask you the same question Harry, you don’t seem yourself lately. All you do is spend your time with Smith. You don’t even eat anymore, what’s wrong champ?”

  “Yeah,” he says softy. “Truck feeling lost?”

  Harrison’s spot on the money, but Truck doesn’t want to admit he’s right. Instead he replies, “I’m worried you’re spending too much time with him,” he inclines his head at Smith.

  Harrison lets out a laugh, “Truck, jealous?”

  “No!” he replies. “I’m just wondering if you’re spending too much time with him, you don’t seem yourself of late. It doesn’t look like you’re sleeping either.”

  “And just who am I Truck?”

  “You’re that crazy genius kid I met a few years back. Full of energy, full of life and everything. We’ve only been here a couple of weeks and you’ve changed so much from that kid. You know ever since I left you back in the apartment …”

  “Not kid anymore Truck.”

  “I know, but you know … you’re normally always so ... enthusiastic about everything.”

  Harrison stares away, off in
to the distance as if lost in thought. “Maybe I never realised who was, maybe it’s only now I’m coming to realise what is ... or was. Maybe … maybe am someone else.”

  “C’mon Harry, just eat some food hey, you’ll be ok champ.”

  “Truck, Harry is gone, he died … “

  “Where place?” Smith pipes up, pointing his finger at the laptop’s screen and interrupting the conversation.

  “What, the U.N?” Truck replies, slightly confused.

  “No, man here … Samuel where?”

  “Ah I don’t know, looks like it’s official, probably in one of the capitals, why?”

  “Find Samuel … find Fahwad.”

  “Fah-who now?”

  “Fahwad Achmenabad, the one who started all of this,” Harrison replies on behalf of Smith.

  “What? Harry? How did you know who he was?”

  “Because I see, as Smith see’s.”

  “You do what now?”

  “Truck, that man. He claims the terrorist responsible for the Day of Darkness was Lucinda and that she’s in Melbourne city plotting her revenge. He also lays claim that Smith has been sighted in the area and is to be considered highly dangerous.”

  “And?”

  “And he tells a lie. He means to make a trap.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “He tells a lie to set a trap, he knows others are out there looking for the same thing. He means to draw them out, to capture them.”

  “Well good thing you’re here then right?” he asks, unsure of himself.

  “It is not me they set the trap for.”

  “Fahwad … bad man.” Smith speaks up.

  “Smith?” Harrison asks.

  “Fahwad want Yonas, Yonas power.” Smith replies.

  “Truck, Samuel is sending the message from whereabouts?” Harrison asks Truck.

  “Well, hold on, I think it’s in …” he searches the internet quickly.

  “Smith?” Harrison pipes up, realising where the conversation’s going and what Smith is planning to do about it.

  “I must go.”

  “Go where?” Alison joins the conversation.

  “Sydney,” Truck finds what he’s looking for. “That’s what it says here anyway, says Samuel turned himself in to some aid station in Sydney.”

  “Trap not Sydney.” Smith responds.

  “So where?”

  “Smith … Lucinda … Melbourne ...”

  “Huh?” Truck looks to Harrison, unable to translate what Smith says.

  “Smith is saying that this Samuel guy claims he and Lucinda are on the loose in Melbourne city, that’s where the trap will be.” Harrison answers.

  “Smith, you said it was a trap?” Harrison asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you want to go then?”

  “Must go ... see as seen.”

  “I know what I saw, that doesn’t mean we have to do it.”

  “Do what?” Truck asks.

  “Go to Melbourne.” Harrison replies, looking deeply at Smith, “That’s what we saw right?”

  “See as seen.” Smith responds.

  “What are you two talking about?” Truck queries.

  “The end,” Harrison says. “We’re talking about the end.”

  “The end of what?”

  - -

  Marion

  Frosty wafts of air emanated from her breath as she lay on the ground, shivering with the cold of the night. The bush canopy blocked out most the night sky, making her surrounds very dark.

  To combat the cold she covered herself in a survival blanket she’d retrieved from the first aid kit, one of the few items the two girls had left behind for her, but it was proving to not be enough and the cold was becoming uncomfortable for her.

  But it wasn’t the girls fault, they wouldn’t have expected her to be out so late.

  The defibrillator kit aside, she’d been left with a blanket, some food, water and a flare gun. She assured Catlin and Ursula that after giving them a few hours’ head start, she would set off the first flare and one every ten minutes after. Hopefully someone nearby to Destiny base would spot the flare and come in search of her.

  That was her deal with her daughter. Let them get a head start, then set off the flare and let the government collect her.

  Of course, Marion had no intentions of living up to her end of the bargain. She knew time was not on her side and the girls would need as much of it as possible to make good their getaway. She knew she didn’t have very long left to live and so lied to Catlin and Ursula, forcing them to leave her.

  After they’d left, she had nothing else but her thoughts to keep her occupied and they quickly drifted to memories of the past, of what had brought her to this very spot. Regret overtook her as her mind wandered over the events of the past few years at the facility.

  She certainly had many opportunities to do something to stop it all, especially when it came to Lucinda. A part of her thought that after Suni left all those years ago, she’d just about given up and lost faith herself.

  Instead of having someone to discuss and vent her frustrations with, she’d kept it all inside and shut herself off. Lucinda had gone off the deep end, on a power trip. Her friend Suni was gone, Samuel was long ago lost and all she had was her daughter for company. Even then she’d been reluctant to get her involved in the truth.

  But it was during her recent incarceration that she saw something which changed her mind. It changed her outlook and gave her a renewed sense of direction, she just didn’t expect this kind of direction.

  She’d seen something inscribed on the walls of the detention cell and it helped to re-centre her resolve, her need to do what was right. Now she had every intention of helping the man named Smith, her time on the threads helping her to see the truth, to see what man had become.

  But here she was, useless to anyone, dead and dying amongst the eucalypt trees.

  She wondered what the government would do once they found her. Would they take care of her, or press her for answers, torture her? Most likely, she thought, she’d end up in some prison and locked away for ever. Good thing they didn’t have the death penalty in Australia, she giggled to herself, because I’m sure they’d try and ping me for the event and hang me thereafter.

  She wondered if giving the girls only a few hours was enough of a head start, she’d told them to head east and as far as she knew it was the right direction. She tussled her hair and fidgeted where she lay as she thought of the two girls and their progress, hoping they’d be ok. But it didn’t take long before tiredness overwhelmed her and she passed into a deep sleep.

  It was light when she woke and warm under the blanket, she threw it off and rose from where she’d lain in the grass and leaves. Sitting up she noticed it was at least mid-morning, through the canopy of the tree’s she could see the sun rising towards its zenith and she marvelled at how she’d slept so well.

  But as soon as she tried standing up she understood why she’d slept for so long, she felt weaker than expected. She had to sit down almost instantly, as a blood rush to the head sent her reeling, before she knew it she was laying down again, curled in the foetal position.

  Feeling her stomach roll, she realised she hadn’t eaten since the previous afternoon and reached over, grabbing a hold of the small pack the girls had left behind for her. She ate a little food and washed it down with a slight amount of water, grateful for the energy.

  Reasonably satisfied, she decided to check herself on the heart machine but as she fumbled with the device she realised it no longer worked, the machine failing to respond when she pushed it. She fiddled with it for a few moments before losing patience and pushed the defibrillator away to the side.

  Batteries must have run out. Hmmm, it’s not going to save me anyway.


  As she discarded the machine, she noticed the flare gun, sitting there innocuously by her side. Marion stared hard at the snub of the barrel and could feel it almost looking back up at her, willing her to use it and end her time alone on the mountain.

  She remembered she agreed with the girls to fire it long ago. It’d been nearing on dark before she fell asleep the day before, so surely by now the girls would’ve gotten away. Marion only hoped that she’d given them at least twelve to sixteen hours.

  She grabbed the gun but didn’t fire it, instead she considered her options. She could fire it, presumably someone nearby would see it and she would get rescued soon thereafter by the government. After that she might as well be dead anyway, for surely she’d have no life after but a jail cell. They’d imprison her and make life difficult trying to get information out of her, perhaps they’d even torture her.

  Oh! I’m too old for that.

  Additionally, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t use her as leverage to get Catlin and Ursula, in some sort of bribe, back. She didn’t want to be responsible for putting the girls into a compromising position.

  Her only other option was to sit, wait and hope the end came swiftly. She resigned herself to her chosen fate and made a quick decision to throw the flare gun away, to remove the temptation. With a controlled effort she lifted her arm and threw the flare gun as far as she could muster. She couldn’t quite see where it disappeared to but heard it cascading down the mountain she was nestled on.

  Decision made.

  It wasn’t until a few hours later she regretted the decision, as Marion realised she could be sitting on the side of the mountain for longer than expected, she could end up starving to death instead.

  By nightfall she’d already eaten the food she was given and had only half the water left. A little panic started to set in as she realised she’d be stuck up here, left alone to die.

  Sitting back up, she rested on her elbow and immediately felt pain shoot up her arm, she cried out in anguish and struggled to breathe. Quickly laying back down, she rolled around in the leaves, thinking maybe it wouldn’t take long at all, perhaps the end had come swifter than she’d thought.

 

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