Yard Fail
Page 3
* * *
I pulled the door open and stepped outside. I was tempted, I admit it. The garden looked peaceful, my car was just the other side of the house and I could have been miles away in minutes. I put my hand in my pocket, jingling my car keys. Then I sighed. Ralph might have done some odd things over the years, but I couldn't just abandon him to his fate. Anyway, if that thing kept growing there'd be nowhere to hide. Even twelve thousand miles wouldn't be enough.
The workshop was right next to the back fence, and the space in between was packed with tyres, old car batteries, pieces of wood and rusty bits of metal. Halfway down there were three more of the chrome stands, still threaded with a thick, blue cord, just lying where they'd fallen. I struggled over the heaped junk until I could get a grip on the nearest, then yanked it from the pile and backed out.
Just my luck: I'd managed to get hold of the middle stand. Setting it down, I stepped over it and pulled on the rope until another stand came free.
CLANG!
I jumped at the sudden noise. Behind me, the first stand was now sticking to the workshop wall, and with a sinking feeling I realised Ralph's super sucker garbage disposer was just the other side, desperately trying to pull the chrome stand through the brickwork.
I backed away, still holding the rope. When it was taut I began hauling on it, sliding the stand along the wall towards me. It bumped and scraped over the bricks, until it left the sphere of influence and dropped to the ground. I gathered it up quickly, released it from the rope and retreated.
Back inside, the ball of light was much bigger. Ralph was at his bench, soldering components to a board with precise movements. A spiral of smoke rose from the tip of his iron, drifting past his face on its way to the roof. Halfway there it veered left and streamed into the red plasma ball.
Something made me look up - a creak or a movement, I don't know which. I frowned into the darkness, then cried out as I saw what was happening. The workshop had a flat tin roof, and the beams were sagging where they passed above Ralph's little experiment. The whole thing was slowly being pulled down into the light!
"Rfff! Rff!" I said. I pulled my tongue from the roof of my mouth and licked my dry lips. "Roof!" I said again.
Ralph glanced over his shoulder, pursed his lips, then redoubled his efforts. I don't know whether you've seen an industrial robot spot-welding a car, but he was going twice as fast. What was doubly amazing was that he was using his left hand.
Finally he pushed his chair back, grabbed the stand from me, flipped it over and fastened his circuit board to the bottom. As the roof groaned and creaked he lashed up a power cord and plugged it in. "Turn it on when I yell out," he said.
We swapped places, and as he advanced on the pulsing light I eyed the roof and wondered whether it would get sucked clean away, or whether it would sweep the pair of us with it. Either way, things did not look good.
"Now!" cried Ralph.
I fumbled with the rocker switch, my finger slick with sweat.
Click!
There was a flash of light, and when I turned round there was a second plasma ball, this one atop the new stand. It was a different colour than the first: the colour of a newborn star. Stark blue, intense and hot.
Ralph put the stand over his shoulder and herded me towards the door. I could see red tendrils stretching out from the original plasma ball, and there were blue tendrils reaching back from the new one. I didn't know what would happen when the two balls met, but Ralph's expression spoke volumes.
We reached the door, where I helped Ralph with the stand. It was struggling, vibrating noiselessly, thrumming like a guitar string in our hands.
"Are you ready?" asked Ralph calmly.
I nodded. Inside I was screaming with fear.
"Okay. Run!"
I fled the workshop as though a slavering pit bull were right on my heels. When I reached the house I happened to glance back, just as Ralph tossed the stand into the workshop.
There was a loud FWOOP! and a flash of black light (you had to be there). When my vision cleared I was still standing at the back door, my fingers curled around the handle. Ralph was in the garden bed, lying face down in the scrub. There was no sign of the pulsing lights ... or the workshop, the big gum tree nor several metres of fencing.
* * *
"Are you all right?" I called.
"No lasting damage." Ralph picked himself up, and together we made our way to ground zero. On the way he gave me the kind of look a computer noob reserves for someone who can use a web browser without getting two dozen viruses. "Clever idea, cancelling them out. I like it."
I tried to look modest and failed. Praise from Ralph was rare indeed.
The imploding plasma field had taken a huge bite out of the ground, and Ralph eyed the hole ruefully. Then he laughed. "Rachel always wanted a swimming pool. Reckon I could put one in before she gets back from her sister's?"
A black feather fluttered down, still smoking gently, and I feared the crow had gone the same was as the workshop. Then I heard an indignant squawk, and I looked up to see it perched on the ridge capping. It had something shiny gripped in one claw, and it was worrying it with its beak. Then it took off, cawing loudly, and I could have sworn I saw two sparks of light as it flew away.
One in each claw. One red, one blue ...
About the author
Simon Haynes was born in England and grew up in Spain, where he enjoyed an amazing childhood of camping, motorbikes, mateship, air rifles and paper planes. His family moved to Australia when he was 16.
From 1986 to 1988 Simon studied at Curtin University, where he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in Film, Creative Writing and Literature.
Simon returned to Curtin in 1997, graduating with a degree in Computer Science two years later. An early version of Hal Spacejock was written during the lectures.
Simon has four Hal Spacejock novels and several short stories in print. Sleight of Hand won the Aurealis Award (short fiction) in 2001, and Hal Spacejock: No Free Lunch was a finalist in both the Ditmar and Aurealis Awards for 2008.
Simon divides his time between writing fiction and computer software, with frequent bike rides to blow away the cobwebs.
His goal is to write fifteen Hal books (Spacejock OR Junior!) before someone takes his keyboard away.
Simon's website is https://www.spacejock.com.au