Rise & Shine

by Patrick Allington

Sala crouched down and sniffed the capsicum. ‘Impossible,’ she said.

  ‘It’s yours, if you want it, when it’s ripe.’

  ‘God, no.’

  ‘It’s perfectly safe.’

  ‘I’ll never be that hungry.’

  A beeping noise interrupted them. A pipe groaned, and a moment later a row of sprinklers began to send a faint spray of water over the plants. Sala screamed and ran out of the water, pulling her clothes off, rolling in dry dirt. Holland laughed and stepped under the water. He opened his mouth and drank the mist. He danced around the plants, mouth agape, while Sala, in her underwear, picked up clumps of dirt and scrubbed herself raw.

  ***

  Boosie cheered and Bull watched rapt as Sala stripped and rolled in the dirt. They switched cameras repeatedly, trying to find the best angles. Above the plant room, Wedge sat and waited for something to happen, oblivious to the action he was missing. And in Walker Compound, Walker, Curtin, and Hail watched the feed live.

  ‘So much water,’ Walker murmured to himself in wonder. ‘Oh, Willy, what are you thinking?’

  ‘I’m sorry, boss,’ Hail said. ‘I was worried about him, but I had no idea it was this serious. Look at him: he’s standing in it. Just letting it fall on him. He’s drinking it, for Chrissakes.’

  ‘It must be safe,’ Curtin said. ‘It can’t be, but it must be.’

  ‘Cleave already has a water sample,’ Walker said.

  ‘Don’t tell me: you’re having trouble getting her to prioritise it.’ Hail gazed at the screen. ‘He’s lost his mind. It’s devastating.’

  ‘Don’t fret. It’s for the best,’ Walker said.

  ‘But it’s Holland. He’s betrayed you. He’s betrayed everything we fought for.’

  ‘Still, it’s nice to see he’s still got some fight in him, some life, don’t you think? I was getting worried about him.’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘Nice,’ Walker confirmed. ‘We don’t want him clapped out before he starts his new assignment.’

  ‘He’s standing in a room full of plants, getting wet, and you’re talking nice? … What new assignment?’ Hail asked.

  ‘Okay, I’ve seen enough for now,’ Walker said.

  ‘I haven’t,’ Curtin said. She turned on her personal autoscreen. ‘Play it again,’ she murmured. ‘Fast-forward … stop.’ She watched water hitting human skin, fascinated.

  ‘What do you think?’ Walker asked her.

  ‘It’s a tiny operation,’ Curtin said. ‘But we can assume it’s a model. A dry run, as it were. We can assume that he’s turned, and turned for good.’

  ‘He’s lost his mind,’ Hail said.

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Curtin said. ‘He’s changed his mind. But he’s still our Holland.’

  ‘Okay,’ Walker said. ‘We’d better arrest him. Tonight. But tell them to wait until he’s alone. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Go? Go where? Do you need me?’ Hail said.

  ‘No. We’re going to need to extend the peace talks. Can you deal with that?’ Walker said to Hail.

  ‘Of course. But why?’

  ‘Barton and I need some more time. There have been some developments. I have work to do. I’ll need you for a few hours,’ he told Curtin. ‘And I need the latest data and analysis on the illness. Everything you’ve got. And I need you to keep me awake.’

  ‘You need me to keep you alive,’ Curtin said.

  ‘Yeah, that too.’

  ‘And you need me to walk you wherever you’re going.’

  ‘Yeah, that too.’

  ‘But these developments,’ Hail said. ‘Are they good developments or bad developments?’

  ‘Let’s just say, we may need the presidents to share some news with the people.’

  ‘News news or real news?’ Hail said.

  ‘Keep them talking for at least another day. Maybe two.’

  ‘Our Mr President may need a sweetener. He’s already bored out of his mind.’

  ‘Tell him he’s about to get all the action he could possibly ask for.’

  ***

  The next morning, Flake and Geraldina sat up in bed, the children at their feet.

  ‘Time to get ready for school, you two,’ Flake said.

  ‘Can you help me?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Me too?’ the boy asked.

  ‘You get started. I’ll be in soon.’

  He waited for them to leave the room. Then he turned to Geraldina. ‘I’ve got something to show … what I mean is … I’ve got something to tell you. Something important.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I … well, I need to show you something, really. Can you wait here?’

  ‘Sure, love.’

  Flake plodded into the lounge room and retrieved the plain envelope from its hiding place. Geraldina sat unmoving, waiting, listening to the kids bicker about who owned a shirt they both wanted to wear.

  ‘It fits me.’

  ‘No, it fits me.’

  ‘It suits my complexion.’

  ‘No, it suits my complexion.’

  Flake sat on the edge of the bed and handed Geraldina the envelope.

  ‘Open it,’ he said.

  She slipped her hand into the envelope and pulled out the photograph of Sala’s skin. She looked at it, nodding.

  ‘It’s Sergeant Sala,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s her cheek. Close-up.’

  ‘I know what it is.’

  ‘I’m so ashamed. I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? I just … I just wanted, needed, the detail. I don’t know why. I needed to hold it. I couldn’t help myself. I can’t explain it. But I felt like there was something missing, something I needed, something this could fix. But it’s not about you. It’s truly not.’

  Geraldina patted his arm and climbed out of bed.

  ‘What are you doing? Where are you going?’ Flake said.

  ‘Wait here.’

  ‘Please, please don’t leave me,’ he pleaded. ‘Let’s talk this through. I’ll do anything you ask. It’ll never happen again. I swear. It’s like a disease, like a —’

  ‘I said, wait there. I’ll just be a second.’

  Flake nodded, defeated. While he waited, he gazed at the photo. He knew he was doing the right thing, telling her, giving the image up. But he was going to miss it. He was still jumping between guilt about owning the photo to mourning its loss when Geraldina walked back in and handed him an envelope.

  ‘Have a look,’ she said.

  Flake opened the envelope and pulled out a photograph. He gazed from his photo to Geraldina’s photo and back again: they were an exact match. He lifted his eyes and met Geraldina’s steady gaze.

  ‘From what I hear,’ Geraldina said, ‘half the city has gone out and bought one.’

  ‘But … it’s wrong. It’s still wrong,’ Flake said. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Terribly wrong,’ Geraldina said.

  ‘But you don’t seem too fussed about it. I lie awake at night worrying. What does it mean? Why do I need it? … Why do you need it?’

  ‘Is it the worst thing we’ll ever do in our lives?’

  ‘It’s so disrespectful to her … to Sala, I mean. Such an invasion. And it’s disrespectful to Walker, after all he’s done for us. To Barton. To Mum and Dad, to your mum and dad, to Ruth and Ahmed, to Jill and Cassie —’

  ‘Yes,’ Geraldina said. ‘Yes, it is. But we’ve got to live, best we can.’

  ‘Who’s helping me?’ the little boy cried out, a room away.

  ‘No, who’s helping me?’ the little girl yelled.

  ‘No, me,’ the boy said.

  ‘No, me,’ the girl said.

  ‘No, me,’ Flake murmured.

  ‘No, me,’ Geraldina said.

  ***


  While Flake was walking the children to school, before heading to the office to work on the ever-vexing question of peace in the Old Time nation of Ethiopia, 1990–92, and while Geraldina logged on to work from home, her focus the gratuitous repeat bombing of the Old Time city of Hiroshima, Curtin walked Walker slowly into the meeting room at Walker Compound.

  ‘Easy now,’ Curtin said, helping him into a chair. Hail slipped in behind them, near the door, hoping he might be able to stay for the talks.

  ‘You truly look like death,’ Barton told Walker. ‘But, hey, welcome to a new era.’

  ‘What new era?’ Hail said.

  ‘Thirty minutes on, thirty minutes off,’ Curtin said to Walker, ‘or I’ll cancel the whole day. I mean it.’

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Walker said to Barton. ‘I had a busy night. Late night. Momentous night.’

  ‘Thirty minutes,’ Curtin said again. ‘I mean it.’

  ‘I’ve got people out finding you something new to eat,’ Hail said to Walker. ‘We’ll bring it to you as soon as we can.’

  ‘Good. But no more dogs. That ship has sailed.’

  ‘All your ships have sailed,’ Curtin murmured.

  ‘Have a little faith,’ Hail said. ‘I put a lot of thought into your meals.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Curtin said. ‘It’s all he thinks about these days.’ She shone a light into Walker’s eyes. ‘Hmhhhff,’ she muttered.

  ‘You can leave now,’ Walker said.

  ‘I’ll be right outside,’ Curtin said.

  ‘There’s really no need.’

  ‘Remember: thirty minutes on, thirty off,’ she called, and the door closed behind her.

  ‘You too, Hail,’ Walker said.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Barton said, when she saw the look of disappointment on Hail’s face. ‘You’ll be the first to hear of any final decisions.’

  ‘Final decisions about what?’ Hail said.

  ‘We promise. Don’t we, Walker?’

  ‘We do,’ Walker said.

  Barton waited for Hail to leave — the doors seemed to take an age to open and close, as if Hail were willing them to stay open — before she finally spoke.

  ‘You’ve told Curtin, then?’ she said.

  ‘Told her what?’

  ‘And you’ve told Hail too.’

  ‘Told them what?’

  ‘That Curtin is your successor.’

  ‘It’s not for me to make such a decision. It’s their decision.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s your call. Don’t pretend otherwise. And I think you’ve already done it. They both know.’

  ‘I’m … I don’t think I did. Maybe I did.’

  ‘Curtin should be in here now.’

  ‘I’m not dead yet,’ he said. ‘But listen: I’ve got a present for you.’ He spoke into his wearable. ‘Please run the Code One footage from last night.’

  An autoscreen appeared. After a moment, footage of Holland and Sala on their way to the plant room appeared.

  ‘Oh my. You’ve been watching Holland? This closely?’

  ‘No choice.’

  ‘Where is he? Underground? Where’s he going? Hang on … is that … her? The Sala soldier?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘The wound of the century,’ Barton said. She pulled herself up out of her chair and went as close to the autoscreen as she could without passing through it. ‘No, I really don’t care for it myself —’

  ‘So you said. You always did have rotten taste.’

  ‘— but I can recognise genius. And courage.’

  ‘Just watch. Listen.’

  Barton watched as the footage showed Holland and Sala entering the plant room. Her expression didn’t change even as Sala pulled a knife, even as she ripped her clothes off and rolled in the dirt, even as they parted at street level, even as the military police moved in and arrested Holland.

  ‘Oh, Willy. Your Willy.’

  ‘He’s not mine anymore.’

  ***

  Sala stood to attention before Walker in his private office. Hail sat in the corner, watching and not watching, still unsure that this was the right thing. Yes, Sala was a hero, but this idea that she could ask to see Walker — demand it, really — and that Walker would just agree, and that he’d see her immediately, seemed ludicrous. Wrong. Hail couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. And yet Hail also trusted Walker — his instincts, his careful decision-making, whatever it was. Oh, sure, Hail was forever disagreeing with Walker in meetings, but that was his job: chief sounding board, head contrarian. But he worried too: how long before Walker’s brain functions started failing him? Would he still be trustworthy at eighty per cent capacity? Twenty per cent? He shook away his doubts. Watch and trust, he told himself. Same as ever. But look to Curtin.

  ‘Please sit,’ Walker said to Sala, as he lowered himself gingerly into an armchair. Somewhat reluctantly, because she was more at ease standing before Walker, Sala sat too. Behind them, Hail paced.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me,’ she said. ‘I realise that the peace conference is such a busy time of year. And it seems to be going on and on this year. But I have information that I didn’t think could wait.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘I … I feel like a traitor even being here.’

  ‘Don’t say anything unless you want to. Feel free to turn around and leave.’

  ‘No, I want to be here. I need to be. But I did ask for a private audience.’ She glanced at Hail. ‘No offence intended.’

  ‘None taken — right, Hail?’

  ‘Right,’ Hail said. And he meant it. Observing Sala’s peculiar sort of bluntness — he couldn’t quite tell if it was friendly, but it was certainly honest — he was beginning to sense what he realised Walker already knew: Sala was a true leader.

  ‘But it’s not your decision to make,’ Walker said to Sala. ‘No offence intended, but I decide who sits in my meetings. And I tell Hail everything.’

  ‘Eventually,’ Hail confirmed. ‘I’m his extra set of eyes and ears. He disregards my advice daily —’

  ‘Hourly, sometimes,’ Walker said.

  ‘I understand,’ Sala said, ‘but —’

  ‘— and he has my complete loyalty,’ Hail said, ‘because he sees further, he hears more, than I ever will, but he listens to me just the same. You can speak freely in front of me.’

  ‘In any case,’ Walker said, ‘it’s my call. Hail stays.’

  ‘All right. I want to do the right thing.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But in the right way.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And it’s big. And I’m not sure who I can trust. That’s why — that’s the only reason I wanted to keep things one-on-one.’

  ‘You’ll have to risk it,’ Hail said.

  ‘All right. What I need to tell you won’t be easy. For you to hear, I mean. But I’ve never seen anything like it and —’

  She paused and peered from Walker to Hail and then back to Walker. A wave of understanding passed through her.

  ‘You already know. Don’t you?’

  ‘Every single sordid bit of it,’ Walker said.

  ‘And you’re not surprised that I’m here, are you?’

  ‘Surprised, not surprised — what difference does it make? I hoped you would find your way back to us.’

  ‘Was last night a test?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Walker said. ‘I was thoroughly surprised to find myself watching live footage of you rolling in dirt.’

  ‘Ugh. The water got into the crevices on my face. I expect it’ll kill me sometime or other.’

  ‘If Holland said it was safe, it’ll be safe. To the best of his knowledge, anyway.’

  ‘Is he a scientist now?’

  ‘Cleave will co
nfirm. She’s testing a sample. When she gets around to it.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to Holland?’ Sala asked.

  ‘He’s in custody,’ Walker said.

  ‘Already?’

  ‘Though that’s classified information,’ Hail said.

  ‘Sala has full security clearance,’ Walker said, ‘as of now.’

  ‘He’s a good commanding officer,’ Sala said. ‘He was. A little dogmatic, but maybe that was just his age or his —’

  ‘Hey, you’re speaking to his peers here,’ Hail said.

  ‘Yes, I know, but what’s true of him isn’t true of everyone, I’m sure. He was stuck in his way in the field, in my opinion, but —’

  ‘He’s not dead. He’s sitting in a room, just around the corner,’ Walker said.

  ‘— but fundamentally he was a good man. A decent man. Despite those five deaths in a month. If you don’t mind me saying so, sir.

  ‘Do you care if I mind you saying so?’ Walker said.

  ‘No. Not really.’

  ‘Excellent,’ breathed Hail.

  ‘What was that?’ Walker said.

  ‘I was just clearing my throat, boss.’

  ‘What do you think I should do to Commander Holland?’ Walker asked Sala.

  Now this is a test, Sala thought. She could see the shock on Hail’s face — he was wondering how Walker could ask her this question — but instantly she saw Hail’s expression turn to neutral. She couldn’t work out his job, exactly, but she could see he was essential.

  ‘Well?’ Walker said. ‘We happen not to have the luxury to meander. Much like a battle, we make decisions and we act.’

  ‘I’m not hesitating. I’m declining to answer. I’m a sergeant.’

  ‘Ex-sergeant.’

  ‘Not ex by my choice. Holland is still my commanding officer so far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Very convenient,’ Walker said.

  ‘Did you think he was your commanding officer when you wrestled him to the ground last night?’ Hail said.

  ‘By your definition, I am now a lowly civilian. So I have no comment.’

  ‘You had plenty to say to him last night. I’ve watched and listened to the whole thing,’ Walker said.

  ‘That was a private conversation. Like this one. Or are you filming me now?’

  ‘I’ll ask you again,’ Walker said. ‘What do you think I should do to him?’