Arrival

by Chris Morphew

  arrival

  The

  PHOENIX

  FILES

  Chris Morphew

  arrival

  The Phoenix Files: Arrival

  published in 2009 by

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  85 High Street

  Prahran, Victoria 3181, Australia

  www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.

  A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia

  Text copyright © 2009 Chris Morphew

  The moral rights of the author have been asserted

  Illustration and design copyright © 2009 Hardie Grant Egmont

  Illustration and design by Sandra Nobes

  Typesetting by Ektavo

  Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

  To Melody,

  Grace and Peace.

  See you when I get home.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 1

  TUESDAY, MAY 5

  100 DAYS

  The end of the world is one of those things that you never really expect to end up being your problem.

  Not that I used to spend much time thinking about that kind of stuff. But if I had, I would’ve thought it was pretty safe to assume that saving the planet would be someone else’s job.

  So when we flew out to Phoenix a couple of weeks ago, it never really entered my head that I might be triggering a countdown to the destruction of the human race, or that I’d be the one who had to try to stop it.

  We were supposed to be taking off from Sydney Airport at 2 p.m. But when the car from Mum’s new company came to pick us up, our driver said there’d been a change of plans. He took us an hour out of the city to a private airstrip in the middle of a field. There was a helicopter waiting for us, this big ex-military thing. They’d ripped everything out of the back cabin and crammed in some aeroplane-style passenger seats. The windows had all been painted over, blocking our view of outside.

  I thought the whole thing was more than a little weird, but Mum didn’t have a problem with it, and I wasn’t about to argue. She’d been accusing me for weeks of having a bad attitude about moving to Phoenix, and in her head, this would just prove her right. As if my attitude had caused all this in the first place.

  It wasn’t like I couldn’t handle moving. Mum and Dad had always made sure I had plenty of practice. They both had high-powered jobs that meant we never stayed in one place for more than a year or two.

  But this time I was leaving more behind than just a rental house and a school.

  Two months back, the divorce papers had finally gone through. Dad had moved out a while before then, but now it was all official. Now they had the documentation to prove that the last seventeen years were just a sorry mistake.

  Not exactly the greatest self-esteem boost for the son they’d had two years in.

  They both tried to make it easy on me. They said all the stuff you’re supposed to say to your kid when you split up.

  Just because your father is moving out doesn’t mean you won’t get to see him.

  Don’t ever think that any of this is your fault.

  We both still love you very much.

  PS – I’m moving to some backwoods town a billion miles from nowhere and I’m taking you with me.

  That last one wasn’t quite so comforting.

  Right after the divorce was finalised, Mum was approached by an organisation called the Shackleton Co-operative who offered her this amazing job. I’m not sure why exactly, but for Mum it was like winning the lottery. There was just one little catch: she had to move out to Phoenix, this brand-new corporate town built by the Shackleton Co-operative for all its employees. Which meant that I had to move, too.

  Of course, Dad tried to keep her from taking me, but Mum had the better lawyers. Eventually, they worked out some deal where I’d live with her most of the time and fly back to see Dad for holidays and the odd weekend. My opinion never really came into it.

  Anyway, that’s how I wound up sitting in the back of a helicopter, flying out to a town so new and so tiny that no-one had even been able to show it to me on a map.

  I leant my seat back as far as it would go and sat there listening to the thumping of the chopper blades above my head, eyes closed against the too-bright fluorescent lights that burned down from the ceiling. Mum sat in the seat next to mine, flicking through a copy of Business Week. She kept glancing down at me out of the corner of her eye, like she was trying to find something to say to reassure me, or at least stop me being so cut at her.

  ‘I’ve heard wonderful things about your new school, Luke,’ she tried eventually.

  ‘Yeah, you were saying.’

  ‘And you won’t be the only new student, either. The whole town is still getting established, so there’ll be plenty of others who haven’t been around for long.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She looked like she wanted to say something else, but then she bit her tongue and went back to her magazine.

  And that was pretty much it for conversation.

  The sky was just starting to grow darker as we got out of the helicopter at Phoenix Airport. Not that you could really call it an airport. It was basically just a clearing in the bush with a little landing strip and a house-sized grey building off to the side. There were a couple of other choppers and a sixteen-seater plane, and that was it.

  Two men came up to us as we walked away from the chopper. One was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He was kind of overweight and had this massive Colonel Mustard moustache. The other guy was like a wall of solid muscle. He wore a black uniform with the same Shackleton Co-operative crest I’d seen on all the paperwork they’d been sending Mum – a red bird with its wings curved up into a circle.

  ‘Welcome to Phoenix!’ said Colonel Mustard, shaking our hands. ‘I’m Aaron Ketterley, Residential Liaison. I’ll be showing you to your new place.’

  ‘Emily Hunter.’ Mum flashed her professional networking smile. ‘This is my son, Luke.’

  ‘Pleasure to meet you both,’ Mr Ketterley beamed. He waved a hand at the stony-faced guy next to him. ‘Officer Bruce Calvin, Chief of Security.’

  The chief nodded at us but didn’t say anything.

  ‘This way,’ said Mr Ketterley, leading us across the tarmac to the terminal building.

  Inside, it was like any other small-town airport – vending machines, a sea of blue seats, tired-looking staff behind marble counters – except that everything here was obviously brand new. There didn’t seem to be any other passengers around, no-one waiting for a flight. Just the airport staff and a security guy dressed in the same uniform as Officer Calvin.

  As soon as we walked throu
gh the door, I pulled out my phone to call Dad.

  No reception. Great.

  ‘Hey, is there a phone somewhere?’ I asked, avoiding Mum’s eye. ‘I want to call my dad.’

  Mr Ketterley frowned. ‘Sorry, buddy, all our phone lines are down at the moment. Internet, too. Our tech guys are working on it, though. We’ll be back online before –’

  ‘We should get you to your new place before it gets dark,’ Officer Calvin cut in, glancing sideways at him.

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Ketterley, clapping his hands together. He pulled two helmets down from a rack on the wall and tossed one to each of us.

  ‘What’s this for?’ asked Mum, fumbling to catch her helmet.

  ‘For the ride into town,’ said Mr Ketterley. ‘Come on now, your bikes are around the back.’

  Mum stared at him. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Ms Hunter, car use is highly restricted in Phoenix. We’re only a small town and we find that bikes are the most convenient way of getting around.’

  Now I was staring at him, too. I’m all for saving the environment, but come on, what kind of town doesn’t let you drive a car?

  ‘I haven’t ridden a bike in years,’ Mum protested.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ smiled Mr Ketterley, ‘it’ll all come back to you. It’s just like riding a … well, you know. In any case, it’s only a short ride.’

  ‘Define short.’

  ‘Oh, forty-five minutes or so.’

  Mum pursed her lips. It’s what she always does when she’s torn between demanding her own way and wanting to make a good impression.

  ‘That sounds fine,’ she said, finally.

  We found our bikes and rode away from the airport, down a wide dirt path that curved off into the bushland.

  ‘Beautiful, huh?’ said Ketterley, sweeping his arm out in front of him. ‘This bush stretches all the way around the town.’

  ‘What happens if it catches fire?’ I asked.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Mum grinning. She reckons I worry too much. I thought it was a pretty fair question, though. If you’re going to live out in the middle of nowhere, you want to know you’re safe, right?

  ‘No need to worry about that,’ said Mr Ketterley. ‘Phoenix’s Security Centre is equipped with the best fire-fighting gear on the planet. All of our safety and security systems are absolutely cutting edge.’

  And yet you can’t even keep your phones up and running? I thought.

  We kept riding, and eventually some buildings came into view up ahead. A few minutes later, we reached the edge of the town, and I realised just how seriously Phoenix took their No Cars policy. There wasn’t a single proper road in sight. Where the roads should have been, there was a sprawling network of bike tracks.

  Mr Ketterley took us down a wide track that led between two rows of houses. They were all identical – big, two-storey, green-roofed buildings with low picket fences and perfectly mown lawns.

  It was starting to get properly dark now, and the streetlights were flickering on over our heads. We rode past a woman working in her garden. Mr Ketterley waved at her as we went by. She smiled and waved back.

  It was the perfect town. Almost too perfect. Like something out of The Brady Bunch.

  ‘Ah,’ said Mr Ketterley, coming to a stop. ‘Here we are, 43 Acacia Way. Welcome to your new home!’ He pulled out a set of keys and handed them to Mum. ‘Someone will swing by in an hour or so to drop off your luggage.’

  ‘Great,’ said Mum, sounding breathless. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Anything else I can help you with before I keep moving?’

  ‘No,’ Mum said impatiently, then checked herself. ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Ketterley brightly. ‘Well then, I’ll leave you to it. Again, welcome to Phoenix! It’s wonderful to have you as part of the family.’

  He shook our hands again and rode back towards the town centre. We parked our bikes on the front porch and got ready to head inside.

  ‘Luke,’ said Mum, stopping at the front door and putting her hand on my arm. ‘Listen. I know this isn’t an ideal situation. Moving so suddenly like this, and so far away from your father. But it’s not the end of the world. I think it’ll be good for both of us. A clean break.’

  I thought of arguing. I thought of telling her that she was the only one who needed a clean break, and that I had been perfectly happy with my old life (minus all the arguing and screaming and divorcing, anyway). But I knew there’d be no point. I just nodded and let her pull me into a hug.

  Not the end of the world.

  Over the next few days, I was going to find out just how wrong she was.

  Chapter 2

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 6

  99 DAYS

  A blast of music rang out across the room and suddenly I was awake. I fumbled around for my phone and switched off the alarm. It took me a minute to remember where I was.

  Huh? What happened to my –?

  Oh. New house. Right.

  I rolled out of bed and staggered into the hall, feeling vaguely uneasy. It’s always weird waking up in a new house, and it didn’t help that everything here was so abnormally tidy. I squinted around stupidly, reminding myself where the bathroom was.

  ‘Morning, Luke,’ called Mum from below me. She

  was halfway down the stairs, already up and dressed. ‘Mmph,’ I said, my brain still kicking into gear.

  ‘I’m on my way out the door. There’s a bit of food in the kitchen, someone dropped off a welcome hamper about ten minutes ago. There’s a town map on the bench – don’t worry, it’s very straightforward – and I’ve left you some money in case you want something else for lunch. I’ll try to do a proper shop tonight, but it might end up being take-away for dinner. Are you okay to get yourself to school?’

  I nodded, yawning, my brain only registering about half of what she’d said.

  ‘Okay, good. Have a great day, sweetheart, I’ll see you tonight.’

  ‘Yeah, see you.’

  I stumbled into the bathroom, splashed some water on my face, and felt slightly more awake. Heading back to my room, I flipped my phone open again and squinted at the time.

  8.07 a.m.

  School started at nine, but I was supposed to get there early so that the principal could show me around. The usual first-day-of-school thing.

  When I opened my wardrobe, I found it already filled with school clothes – grey pants, white shirts, red ties. All in my size, too, which was weird. I didn’t think Mum even knew what size I was anymore. There was a backpack as well, filled with books and pens and stuff.

  I got dressed and went downstairs to find some breakfast.

  Our new house was incredible. I’d always lived in nice houses, I guess, but this place was like something out of a home and garden magazine. High ceilings and paintings on the walls and giant indoor plants and light streaming in through enormous windows. Everything perfectly neat and tidy and expensive-looking.

  The Shackleton Co-operative had insisted that we leave our old furniture behind and let them buy us all new stuff. Most people probably would’ve counted their blessings or whatever, but for some reason it put me kind of on edge. This place was meant to be my new home, and I felt like I wasn’t supposed to touch anything. But I shook the feeling off and grabbed some fruit from the basket on the counter.

  Ten minutes later, I was riding through the busy town centre. I was still getting used to the whole bike-riding thing and I almost ran down about five people as I made my way through the morning traffic.

  Everywhere I looked, there were men in black security uniforms, like the one Officer Calvin had been wearing the night before. Each of them had a gun holstered to his side. Maybe that’s normal for security guards, but there was still something off-putting about them.

  Halfway down the street, opposite the massive fountain in the town square, was a building covered in dark tinted windows, those ones that make the whole thing look like a giant black mirror. The word
s SHACKLETON CO-OPERATIVE were emblazoned across the top of the building in big silver letters, next to a giant-sized version of the phoenix logo on the guards’ uniforms.

  Back in Sydney, I wouldn’t have looked twice at a building like that. But here in this tiny town where everything else was so clean and bright and friendly-looking, there was just something wrong about it. Like the people who put it there were trying to make a statement. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.

  I kept glancing back over my shoulder at the building as I continued up to the school.

  Phoenix High was at the end of the street, right across the road from Phoenix Mall. Creative naming was clearly not a high priority around here. There were kids in school uniforms milling around, getting breakfast from a burger place that looked like Phoenix’s version of McDonald’s.

  It was hard to believe that a student had ever set foot in this school before today. There was no rubbish. No graffiti. Not one blade of grass out of place. And the buildings looked like they’d never been touched, like the cement was still drying between the bricks.

  I chained my bike up at one of the hundreds of bike racks scattered all over the place and looked around for the front office.

  The office lady smiled at me as I walked in the door. ‘Ah, you must be Luke Hunter,’ she said warmly. ‘Wait just a moment and I’ll tell Mrs Stapleton you’re here.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, surprised to be recognised so quickly. ‘Okay, thanks.’

  The office lady got up and walked out of the room. She came back almost straight away, followed by a serious-looking woman carrying a black bag.

  ‘Luke,’ said the woman, extending a hand for me to shake. ‘Welcome. I’m Mrs Stapleton, the deputy principal here at Phoenix High.’

  She smiled the smile shared by deputy principals all around the world, the one that says, I’m being friendly now, but put a foot out of line and I’ll destroy you.

  ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Our principal, Ms Pryor, sends her apologies for not being here to greet you, but she’s been held back at a meeting.’ Mrs Stapleton held out the black bag.

  ‘Here, this is yours.’