Calm to Chaos

by Garth Wade

  ‘Only the work team’s Oztag when I’m not working. And thanks.’ They both fell silent for the next minute, the two of them comfortable with each other.

  ‘I’ve always wondered why they don’t turn all those lights off through the night. Those buildings over there are offices, not apartments. Surely nobody is working right now – well, maybe the cleaners are – but not in—’

  Syd began to point and count aloud each illuminated office window. ‘I dunno, that many offices anyway. What do you think?’

  ‘Easy; it’s so the rarely seen night-flying, black-tip-winged southern red goose doesn’t fly into them.’ Sonia said. ‘Common sense really.’

  Syd laughed. ‘Where do you come up with this stuff?’

  ‘I’ve got a good imagination,’ she said. The silence returned. ‘And what do you do for fun, Mister Worthington?’

  Syd took a long look at Sonia, and smiled before answering. ‘Well, aside from trying to study and understand the systems involved for doing this job well, I have also gone skydiving but that’s been on the backburner since I’ve moved up here. Oh, and I would normally play touch footy but I haven’t found a team yet.’

  ‘How many jumps have you got?’

  Syd chuckled. ‘That’s a funny question, particularly when skydivers ask it.’

  ‘Why is it funny?’

  ‘Because some really good jumpers have low jump numbers and some poor jumpers have really high numbers. It’s not always about the number, it’s more about how current you are, kind of.’

  ‘Oh. So, how many jumps have you got?’

  ‘Not many. And I’m not current right now at all. But I do love it.’

  ‘Great. So, how many jumps have you got?’

  ‘Maybe 350-odd.’

  ‘You don’t know the exact number?’

  ‘No, and that’s over the last five years too. I’ve lost my log book and got new gear, and blah blah blah …’

  ‘So, 350-ish times you’ve jumped, of your own accord, from a non-crashing plane, and have not been attached to someone else who was in charge of the parachute?’

  ‘Yes. Wow. I’m glad we’ve sorted that out and you finally understand.’

  ‘Smart arse. But that is pretty cool. I really respect that, because I don’t think I could do it alone.’

  ‘Different strokes.’

  ‘I have done a tandem though.’

  ‘And loved it?’

  ‘Of course! It was really exciting. I just don’t think I’d want to be in charge of all that.’ She said pointing above her.

  ‘That’s surprising,’ Syd said as she looked over at him, ‘because you’re always so in control with work, and you direct people well.’

  ‘Thanks. I don’t know if I’ve given it all that much thought really.’

  ‘And that’s okay, you know,’ Syd said kindly.

  ‘Hmm, maybe, I am intrigued though. Just to overcome that fear. I don’t like to be scared of things. I’m of the opinion that as soon as I recognise a fear, I’ll do—’

  ‘As much of it as possible to get over it?’ Syd interrupted as Sonia nodded. ‘Yes, me too, I am of that exact same mindset.’

  ‘It’s a good mindset to have,’ Sonia said, then jokingly changed tack. ‘But, I could’ve said that I’ll do everything in my power to avoid it!’ She laughed. ‘Is that what started you skydiving?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Syd noticed Sonia smirk. ‘Truly. I always just wanted to do it. Just the thought of falling through the sky and safely landing on the ground … I thought it would be so exciting and it was. And so much fun. I’m so glad I started it.’ Syd grinned. ‘But, I used to be scared of needles, so, to get over that, I donated blood as regularly as possible. That worked, I got over it; and now I’m the one jabbing people left right and centre!’

  Sonia gave him her cheeky grin.

  He took a step back. ‘But I don’t think I actually know real fear. I don’t know real chaos. I have led a pretty protected existence so far. Private schools. Good family. Country living. Little bit of travel. It’s not as though I’ve ever had to protect my family from pirates on the Caribbean seas who are threatening to kill my mother and skin me alive, you know? I suppose it’s all relative, but when I think about it I feel like a spoilt little shit really.’

  ‘Because you don’t know real fear and haven’t experienced real chaos?’ Sonia’s eyes looked huge.

  ‘Yeah,’ Syd replied.

  ‘Because you were born into a different life to other people throughout the world?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think you should feel guilty about that. Nothing you can do about it. Actually … maybe, just be a good human.’ She grinned at him. ‘And I reckon you’re doing a pretty good job of that.’

  Concave

  Ten years earlier – Lyndon

  The supple pillow smelt sweetly of fabric softener. The room was neat; his toys were all either packed up or proudly displayed. The bedroom window was open, and overlooked a vast sugarcane field from the second floor. A gentle breeze blew intermittently and caught his pale hair. But he didn’t stir.

  The moon looked close and colossal, and if he were awake he would lie and stare out at it in amazement, wishing he could touch it.

  The house was old, by Australian standards, and almost every step an adult took produced loud creaks and squeaks which echoed through the rooms.

  He lay, sleeping peacefully on his side, as a child does who is safe from harm at three in the morning.

  Suddenly, the erratic flapping of large wings sounded just outside the window, followed by a growl and a single bark from a dog further away.

  Lyndon didn’t stir. Each breath he took was perfect, quietly in and out, as if he slept in a bubble of contentment.

  After a while, there was a stretched and spacious noise, a wooden groan like an ancient tree resonating as it was about to crash to the earth, a sound that came from only one spot in the house when an adult’s weight was transferred to it. Inside Lyndon’s bedroom door.

  His eyes flickered open then shut. It was the smell that woke him. Sickly sweet rum. He dared not move, hoping that he was having a nightmare, and safety would soon greet him with the morning sunshine.

  He had been in this nightmare before.

  It hurt every time.

  The rum smell came closer and he soon felt a strong calloused hand stroking his hair. The calloused hand undid his nightshirt and held his chest before pushing him onto his back.

  Next he felt the tiny pricks of rasping wood against his face. It wasn’t pushed hard against him, and it didn’t hurt, but he knew exactly what it was: a three-sided mask of a female face from the front and each side. At the top of each face, the face of a white woman, was a feminine gold patterned headdress pointing down the forehead to furiously shaped eyebrows. Each facet of the face shared an element with one another – each blue-shadowed eye served two facets of the one face, as did each of the blushed cheeks. The mouth of the front face stopped at the top lip – there was no lower jaw – as though the mouth was wide open.

  The adult-sized mask covered Lyndon’s tiny face, aside from his lower lip. He had seen it on another occasion and the three-faced image was burnt white-hot into his nightmares. Much like the one he was in now.

  The rum mouth, surrounded by sparse wiry beard hair, pushed down hard onto the bottom half of Lyndon’s face, slobbering repulsively on his mouth and chin. Lyndon winced and cried and struggled for almost thirty minutes while he was assaulted and raped, dreaming only of escape, to fly and to drift away.

  Later he heard the floor creak again as the rapist left the room with the mask in hand.

  ***

  His white-blond hair was again shifting in the slight draught, this time from a different window, the breeze less on this side of the house but the light stronger. He stood about a metre away from a queen-sized bed, looking over the rapist.

  Every part of him ached, the type of ache a
child should never feel, an ache that started at the end of his light hair and went through to the core of his bones.

  Tears fell from his eyes. He didn’t sob though. He was void of emotion after weeping for the last two hours. He was drained of energy, and any hint of love was sapped from his heart.

  The sun’s first ray entered the room and touched Lyndon’s cheek. His tears evaporated and he felt oddly and immediately safe, before accidentally dropping the cane knife he had held with both hands. The long wooden handle thudded hard on the floor and the thin blade clinked so loud that he thought the house might collapse. Lyndon’s eyes widened and jaw dropped and lungs held in his breath as he froze and saw the rapist sway his head, then rub his face, then turn onto his side facing Lyndon. The rapist’s eyes remained closed and he seemed to return to sleep.

  Lyndon bent down to pick up the knife, its length half his height. As he did, the rapist’s bed partner turned over and sat up, saw Lyndon, then said stridently, ‘What do you think you’re doing in here?’

  Without further thought, Lyndon picked up the cane knife with one hand, stepped up to the bed and with one ferocious two-handed swing, planted the blade into the temple of the rapist, cracking the skull, wedging it behind one eye and close to the bridge of the nose.

  Vivid red blood squirted as the rapist screamed and clutched and spasmed. Before long, dark blood pooled while the rapist began to seize, then flounder, and eventually die.

  Later, Lyndon was moved to a new foster home.

  Wake up!

  04:30 hrs – Alpha 989

  Sonia and Syd had been given a job while they travelled back to the station. The crew that had helped with Danielle needed more hands and strength with another job they were on. Despite the two crews working together as quickly as they could while still using safe lifting practices, it took the four paramedics an hour to get the obese male patient out of his house. The other crew continued with their treatment and Sonia and Syd returned to their station.

  ‘I can’t believe we made it back. What happened to ‘a heap of jobs pending’ Wesley? Dickface,’ Syd said, leaping out of the truck and striding through the station’s plant room.

  ‘I’m going to make a cup of tea. Would you like something?’ Sonia asked after taking a quick look around the station to get her bearings.

  ‘No thanks. I’m going to lie down.’

  As soon as his head hit the pillow, Syd relaxed. He sank into the stiff, single bed as though a cloud enveloped him. He dreamt of the sky and the freedom when he jumped, as though he could break away from everything on the ground. He escaped the thoughts of Amber kissing Sebastian, and Cameron’s unknown and worrying condition. He pushed away the memory of Ken’s wife, and the desperation in her grip, her need. He relinquished the thought of the house-fire patient with the skin peeling from his face.

  Syd felt as though he were flying, head down, feeling the breeze against his body, and listening to the constant grey noise of the oncoming wind.

  As he flipped himself from head down to a sitting position, he felt a tug at his jumpsuit, and saw Sonia, mid-air, undoing his fly.

  All of a sudden, he awoke with a gasp and saw Sonia standing in the light of the half-opened door to the bedroom in which he slept.

  Confused and a little panicked, he said, ‘Oh wow, I thought we were skydiving together,’ and then sat up to look at her.

  She said nothing, and let the door shut quietly behind her as she stepped closer. The darkness was sudden, as were Sonia’s lips on Syd’s.

  ‘Sonia?’ he said. ‘What are you doing? Are you okay? Are you sleep-walking?’

  ‘I’m fine Sydney. I know you’ve been thinking about this,’ she said in a pensive tone, ‘I know.’

  Syd could think of nothing to say, but thought yet again that tonight was the strangest night of his life.

  She unclicked his belt and as she began to undo the clip of his pants, she felt the vibration of her pager. She had a quick look at the blue illuminated words then handed it to Syd. ‘We have to go. Come on, Sydney.’

  Syd barely had time to agree before the door slammed open to a blinding yellow light and the silhouette of Amber standing there like a Roman soldier.

  ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ she screamed. Her face was red with anger. ‘You have to get up! Sydney!’ Amber’s nasty voice slowly morphed into Sonia’s kind tones, ‘Sydney!’

  ‘Sydney?’

  Syd’s eyes opened to a vibration on his hip, a bright light, and the view of Sonia standing in the open doorway of his room with her pager in hand. ‘Come on. Get up. We might have a sick one,’ she said gently.

  Syd sat up, realised what had happened, and then clumsily zipped up his boots.

  Audrey

  05:35 hrs – 43 Ferguson Skyline Drive, Seven Hills

  Syd hardly noticed the weight of the heavy oxygen pack, as his thoughts were focused on the job in front of him. Ted gave Syd and Sonia his wife’s medical history in two vague and questionable sentences while he led them the short distance through the house. Sonia asked Ted if Audrey had any cardiac history, to which he replied politely that she most certainly had, she had had a heart attack less than a month ago.

  He went on to explain how the paramedics had been remarkable, and how he was confident that the same level of professionalism would be repeated tonight.

  When asked where Audrey’s medications were, Ted explained that they were scattered around the house; although he seemed unsure of what they were.

  He presented Syd and Sonia to Audrey.

  Audrey sat bolt upright on a dining-room chair which leant against the kitchen bench. Her eyes were wide with fear, she was dripping with sweat, and her face was blue. When she attempted to speak it sounded as though she was drowning.

  And she essentially was.

  Syd held her wrist and felt a rapid radial pulse. He dropped the ridiculous oxygen kit, unpacked the CPAP mask, handed it to Sonia, and wrapped the elastic harness behind her head to which she attached the mask. The oxygen mask would ensure the continuous positive pressure of oxygen in her lungs.

  Sonia assessed blood pressure and heart rate, which were both predictably high. She had opened her drug kit on the nearby kitchen table and set a small bottle of Nitrate, an Aspirin and all the goods for cannulation.

  In sync, Sonia asked the husband, Ted, and Syd asked the patient, Audrey, if she had any allergies. Ted replied with an unambiguous ‘No’. Audrey continued to sound as though she was underwater but Syd thought he caught an aqueous negative.

  Sonia handed the Nitrate to Syd. He then put both his hands into Audrey’s hands and told her to squeeze them, which she did. He checked for other contraindications to the medication by shining his torch into both her eyes to check for equal pupil reaction. He then asked Audrey to lift her tongue to the roof of her mouth, before lifting up the oxygen mask and spraying the Nitrate below her dry tongue.

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ Ted asked softly, sitting close behind the crew. ‘It was all just so sudden. We went to bed and everything was fine, then she wakes me up and says she feels heavy in the chest again. So I brought her out here to get a drink of water.’

  Sonia handed Syd the foiled Aspirin and slid the cannula kit towards him. ‘We’re just going to do a few tests on your wife first, okay Ted? We’ve already started treating her, and I think we may be on the right track. But I’ll tell you in five minutes or so, okay?’ She briskly walked the few steps to the kitchen sink and poured a half glass of water, handing it to Syd.

  ‘It’s our sixtieth wedding anniversary next week. She keeps telling me so I won’t forget,’ Ted said in the background. ‘How could I ever forget sixty years with this wonderful lady?’

  Audrey was attempting to chew up and swallow the messy Aspirin, half of which dribbled from her mouth. Syd gave her a small drink of water, and then had to pry the glass from her desperate hands.

  Sonia attached ten plastic stickers to Audrey’s torso and to
the left side of her chest to assess her ECG.

  ‘Wow! Sixty years. Ted, you must know each other pretty well after that amount of time. You should be very proud,’ she said with characteristic sincerity.

  Syd had explained to Audrey he was about to put a needle into her arm and asked her to try to keep still. She was an obedient patient. She was in trouble and she knew it. As Syd cannulated Audrey, he wondered what a terrifying feeling it would be to have basic breathing taken away. Essentially, that is what was happening to Audrey, probably because of heart failure; the flow-on effect was that her lungs would fill up with fluid, especially at this time of the morning. Starting from the bottom of the lungs up – drowning from the inside.

  Syd remembered the reason he quit smoking two years ago and took a deep breath.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her,’ said Ted.

  Syd thought of the first moment when babies are born and take that first deep breath and into a loud, ear-cracking cry, working new lungs to move air in and out. And in and out.

  Nobody thinks about it, of course. How often through life would anyone ever think about it? How grateful would someone be for the breath they just inhaled?

  Generally people would be fine until they ‘ran out of breath’ from running or exercising, or maybe something environmental like inhaling smoke, making them huff and puff. But actually having the very first thing they were ever given taken away from them would be so alarming, it was almost inconceivable.

  Syd secured the cannula with a wrapping bandage. The sticking plaster would never hold with Audrey still sweating liberally.

  ‘Is it five minutes yet?’ Sonia asked.

  ‘Four,’ Syd replied.

  Audrey’s face still had a deep shade of blue, but they noticed a pinkish tinge pushing through.

  Aah! Perfusion! Syd thought, before he checked Audrey’s vital signs, and then lifted the oxygen mask again to give her another Nitrate spray.

  ‘C’mon Auds, love, don’t you get too sick now love. We’ve got some real partying to do next week,’ Ted said, supporting his wife, trying to look calm but obviously and understandably stressed.