The Adventures of HAL: The Second Hilarious Glothic Tale (The Glothic Tales Book 2)

by Haines, Derek

  Hours passed, and Hal tried sleeping but only managed snoozing. Whistling made him thirsty, and heeding Splatt’s warning about bloating, he stopped. Just when he started to feel a little bored, something resembling a planet loomed in front of him and he seemed to be approaching it rather quickly. He wasn’t sure if it was a planet because it was oval in shape, and as he had the idea that planets were always round, it was a bit confusing.

  He stopped worrying about the shape when he felt he was heading on a course directly towards the oval planet or whatever it was at great speed, and in Hal’s mind it looked like a crash course. His speed seemed to be increasing as the oval planet or whatever loomed ever closer. Now speeding directly for it, he started to believe his time had come and that Amik’s advice about not knowing was horribly inaccurate. One final burst of acceleration convinced Hal that he was going to crash, but just as he was about to close his eyes in fear, the module felt as if it had been grabbed by something as it zoomed above and around the surface of the oval planet or whatever at frightening speed. As if held by a string, he hurtled around and around. Then suddenly, as if shot from a gun, he gripped his seat arm rests as he felt his module zooming away from the oval planet or whatever, and then looked up to see a big, bright, molten sun ahead of him.

  ‘Understood. Now I cook!’ he shouted to himself.

  Approaching Sun Two, the temperature started to rise and Hal decided it was probably time to don his visor as Splatt had explained. He recalled Splatt’s advice, ‘You’ll live as long as you keep the visor lowered for the whole time you’re in sun orbit. Don’t open it until you feel you’ve been slung out of orbit.’

  As Hal now had one slung out of orbit experience, he felt better prepared for his next one. With his visor secured, he watched and waited as he approached a huge boiling hot mass of bright red and orange. The temperature rising every minute. All of a sudden he felt his module being sucked towards the sun and his speed increased dramatically. Faster and faster as he approached the right hand side of the sun, then as if grabbed by an invisible hand, was pulled into the sun’s orbit and sped even faster around the rear of the sun. Perspiration was oozing from his skin at such a rate he wondered if he was going to drown inside his suit. Around, and around he sped. Not knowing when he’d started or finished an orbit. Only knowing that it was still getting hotter and hotter. He was having difficulty breathing as each breath felt like he was inhaling fire. His speed increasing even faster than before as everything before his eyes started to blur and rush off into nothingness. He couldn’t see the sun. Not even his own hands. Fire now in his lungs burning him from the inside. He couldn’t breathe anymore. A loud explosion accompanied the feeling that he was being sucked into his seat, and then the skin on his face seemed to be peeling from the front of his head and was being moved around to the back. Then the sensation that his whole body had been hit by a fast moving train. He had no doubt. He was about to die.

  Fortunately for Hal, he was wrong about being about to die. It took quite some time to prove himself completely wrong, but with a little liquid, a cooler cockpit and clear, bright blackness ahead, and the fact that he started to breathe again, he had more hope. Then he lifted his visor with absolute confidence, as he knew he’d completed his second slung out of orbit experience. Albeit a very, very nasty one. As his body temperature lowered, and his accumulated perspiration started to evaporate, Hal felt marginally better. As a planet appeared in the distance, Hal was very surprised to see it whiz past him within a minute. There was no doubt. He was travelling very, very, if not extremely very fast. As more things whizzed by, he knew that running into any of these things wasn’t going to be very helpful. How he was avoiding them he didn’t know, but with each one that zoomed by, his confidence in missing them increased.

  Having no way of judging time, Hal had no idea how long he’d been zooming around in his Hoog escape module or how long before he might be approaching Earth. All he could do was wait while watching a variety of different things zip past him at frightening speed. Some so small they were just a line of light, while other larger things came into view for a few seconds before whizzing past. A planet that seemed to have an odd pink colour about it zipped by. Not long after, the biggest thing Hal had seen since Sun Two. A huge planet and as it went by Hal noticed a large red splot on it. ‘Jupiter!’ Then the pink planet came back to his mind. ‘Gloth!’ Hal waited a little while longer to see if his theories were correct. When a clearly recognisable Saturn with its famous gas rings flew by, Hal got himself ready for his next challenge. A crash.

  A flash of red on his left that he hoped was Mars meant Earth must be approaching fast. But at this speed, he couldn’t fathom how he was going to crash land without being incinerated. He had very little time to think about all that as the greenish-blue of planet Earth appeared dead ahead. Hal held his breath.

  Just as with Sun Two, Hal’s module seemed to be heading directly for Earth, but at the last second felt like it was grabbed by a hand and dragged into orbit. This time however, at a much higher altitude than with either Sun Two or the oval planet or whatever. Then he noticed his body moving forward as if invisible brakes were being applied. ‘I’m slowing down!’ he shouted in excitement. ‘Whhhoooohooo!’

  With each orbit Hal could feel his altitude decreasing as well as his speed. So slow now in fact that he had the feeling he could get out and walk faster. Another orbit and a lower altitude. And again, and again. Now seeing clouds and making out coastlines. Lower and slower. Down through a layer of cloud into a night sky. Lower and slower. Then into daylight, then back to night again. Crossing a coast and entering a red desert. Lower and slower, lower and slower until he could see treetops under a moonlit night. A scraping sound as his module clipped the trees and then a bouncing thud after thud as he immediately knew he was crashing to Earth. His module rolled and tumbled before one last thud as it came to rest.

  ‘Lever first!’ he reminded himself and pulled the red lever towards his body. A whoosh accompanied by a few dull explosions blew the canopy away from above his head. The module was lying on its side, so when Hal released his harness with three blows, he fell onto his left side and conveniently rolled out of his module. He stood up, but immediately fell down as his legs were like jelly after four days cooped up in an egg. He tried again and failed. Now deciding that he could start removing his suit while sitting, he managed to strip it off down to his waist. It was about then that the odours emanating from the lower reaches of his suit somehow encouraged his legs to support him just long enough to get the whole suit off and he tossed it back into the cockpit. Then he realised his mistake, as he had to crawl back to the cockpit to collect his hippie sack. Then he tried to walk away from the module knowing that there couldn’t be many of the seven minutes left. He gave up on his wobbly legs and crawled instead. Satisfied he was at a safe distance he looked back to see his tiny module resting against a tree trunk. Some steam just starting to rise from its small nose cone. Then more steam as it seemed to be melting. He watched as his module reduced itself to a molten puddle then evaporate in a cloud of white powdery smoke. The wind carrying it away into the night.

  Hal sat and looked at the empty space next to the tree trunk, waited for his legs to support him, then finally wondered where the hell he was.

  Got The Time?

  Birds started chirping with the expectation of first light and Hal took that as his signal to start walking. He was in a forest of some kind and the climate felt warm, almost sub-tropical. Tossing up which way to go, he decided that straight ahead was as good a choice as any. Hoping to find a fence line or if he was very lucky, a road. The sun rose and lit a cloudy day. Hal took the sun as his guide, keeping it directly ahead of him taking an easterly course. If Sep’s calculations had got him remotely near Brisbane, he had to head east, as he hadn’t landed in an ocean. Very rough and approximate navigation, but that’s all he had to work with. He strode off knowing he had to find something and soon as his rations were
now exhausted and he only had a little water left. The sun rose higher in the sky and Hal estimated that it must be approaching noon. There was a stinging heat from the sun now, and a storm building in the west. He kept moving along a rough track he had stumbled across an hour earlier.

  Then, up ahead he thought he could see the black tar of a road. He moved along at a skip in expectation and then as he arrived couldn’t believe his eyes. Not only had he found a road, but he’d also found a road sign. It read,’ Brisbane 125’ in one direction and in the other it read, ‘Nimbin 2.5.’ Hal looked up to the sky and shouted, ‘Sep! Sep! Thank you!’

  Hal’s mind immediately turned to Bruce and his VW microbus. Could he get a lift to Brissie with him? He started off on the road to Nimbin and a short two and a half kilometre walk. Hal wandered into town along Cullen Street and as he passed a young man walking in the opposite direction he thought he’d take the opportunity to ask the time.

  ‘Hi, have you got the time?’

  ‘Hey man, I’m not into time man. It’s a bummer you know,’ he grinned and kept on walking.

  Hal recalled his one and only visit to Nimbin when he visited Bruce for a weekend and realised his error. He needed to find someone in Nimbin who wasn’t as high as a kite. He trod off on a direct route to the only place he could remember in Nimbin. The Hemp Embassy. From there he thought he could remember the way to Bruce’s caravan. He did, and didn’t. He found the Hemp Embassy easily, but there was an empty block of dirt where Bruce’s caravan once lived. Hal retraced his steps to the Hemp Embassy to find out if anyone knew where Bruce had moved to.

  ‘Hey sorry man, Bruce moved on ‘bout a year back. Said he was goin’ west. Port Headland I think he said,’ the man at the Hemp Embassy told Hal.

  ‘Oh well, thanks anyway,’ Hal said before leaving. On the way out he dug around the bottom of his hippie sack and really knew his luck was in when he found the thirty-six Australian Dollars he’d had with him all these years as well as his Bancomat Card. He walked down Cullen Street to buy himself a nice cup of coffee before enquiring about a bus to Brisbane.

  ‘Can I get ya’ somthin’ luv?’ the waitress at the coffee shop asked Hal.

  ‘Oh, yes. A cappuccino please.’

  ‘Be with ya’ in a tick luv.’

  She arrived back after a few minutes with Hal’s order and placed it in front of him. ‘D’ya’ want this mornin’s Courier Mail from Brissie?’

  ‘Thanks. Very nice of you Hal replied as he took the newspaper from the waitress, set it on his table and enjoyed the first foamy sip of his coffee. Then looking around at the trees, the people, the birds and the cars. Breathing the warm air of Northern New South Wales, and looking forward to seeing Brisbane again. He took another sip of his coffee and opened the newspaper to catch up on some local news. Politics, sport, economy and horse racing. Nothing had change at all. He folded up the paper with disinterest and put it back on the table. That was when it hit Hal squarely in the face. The date. Thursday, November 6th 2003, the day before Narelle’s disappearance.

  It couldn’t be. He must be dreaming he thought to himself as he sat; as if he’d been turned into a statue, staring at the date on the front page of the Courier Mail. ‘It just can’t be right,’ he mumbled to himself. Then recalled the mention Splatt had made about maybe encountering a CTC. Hal couldn’t remember what the acronym stood for, but he did recall Splatt saying a week or two at most. This was years. Hal paid for his coffee then walked directly to the news agency and scanned the newspapers and magazines on display. Magazines all clearly November 2003. Newspapers all dated 6th November 2003 or a few days earlier. Then he scurried to the Post Office, walked inside and got his confirmation. The date on the wall clearly marked 6th November 2003. Then the bank agency. The same date. There was no more to think about; he had to get back to Brisbane.

  Hal took out his Bancomat card and checked it. Expiry date: 12/12/03. Just in time. He slid the card into the machine and tried his luck. He tried to withdraw five hundred dollars. The screen flashed, ‘Insufficient Funds’, so he tried again for three hundred. This time with success then ran down to the bus office to book a ticket for the next bus to Brisbane.

  ‘I’m sorry sir, but the next bus to Brisbane is on Saturday morning.’

  ‘Nothing today at all?’ Hal almost pleaded.

  ‘Sorry sir, no bus until Saturday.’

  ‘Well, is there any other way? I really need to get to Brisbane by tomorrow.’

  ‘There maybe flights out of Lismore.’

  ‘So are there any busses to Lismore today?’

  ‘Sorry sir, no.’

  ‘Taxis?’

  ‘In Nimbin sir?’

  ‘Alright. So, no other possibilities.’

  ‘Maybe you could ask at the backpacker’s hostel. Someone might be driving that way.’

  ‘Ok, thanks.’

  Hal trod off in search of the hostel and the hope of a lift. Being Nimbin, the unofficial hippie capital of Australia, if not the entire Western world, finding someone who was reasonable compus mentis was somewhat of a challenge. Time was also a challenge in Nimbin. Well at least in the sense of finding anyone who saw any relevance in taking the slightest bit of interest in it.

  ‘Dougie said he might be going to Brissie one day soon,’ was as close as Hal came to any degree of certainty from his quizzing of a small group near the hostel.

  ‘What’s the panic man? Don’t stress me out,’ he took as a definite no, then decided the hostel wasn’t leading him any closer to Brisbane. He tried the Hemp Embassy again, with no luck, then the Post Office and back to the coffee shop. It seemed no one was leaving Nimbin. People only arrived.

  After zooming around half the known universe, Hal at least saw the irony in him finding it extremely difficult to navigate the last one hundred and twenty-seven and a half kilometres to Brisbane. Although Sep’s degree of precision was indeed mind blowingly accurate, there was still a long way to go. Especially if he wanted to get to Brisbane in time to see if he could do what he wanted to do. Impossible as it may seem.

  The Post Office clock was showing five-thirty. Late afternoon probably wasn’t the best time of day to try and hitch a lift to Brisbane, but as he’d noticed the odd car or two passing through town, Hal saw it at his best option. He grabbed a sandwich from the coffee shop then trudged off the way he had come, retracing his steps along Cullen Street then Sibley Street towards Blue Knob Road and out of town north. In the general direction of Brisbane. Along the way, attracting absolutely no interest whatsoever in his hitchhiking thumb that he’d extended to all of the very few passing cars. A long day was taking its toll on Hal, or perhaps it was like some kind of intergalactic jetlag, but he was feeling extremely tired all of a sudden, and had to sit by the side of the road and rest. No passing cars disturbing his nap.

  Hal woke to darkness, and had no idea at all what time it was or how long he’d slept. Although feeling a little better for whatever amount of sleep he got, he now had a feeling similar to a hangover. Dehydrated and a bit upside down in his stomach. He sat in silence, realising he was thirsty. Headlights appeared in the distance, then soon sped by. A little later, as the birds started chirping, Hal knew it was close to sunrise and that he had to get to Brisbane today.

  As first light snuck its way over the horizon, Hal saw headlights approaching slowly. He stuck out his thumb in hope and then his hopes lifted as the headlights slowed as they came closer. The rumbling noise of a truck gearing down gave him heart. It stopped along side him and a head popped into view from the driver’s seat through the passenger side window.

  ‘Where’re ya’goin’ mate?’

  ‘Brissie.’

  ‘I’m only goin’ as far as Murwillumbah to get the milk mate.’

  ‘It’s a start,’ Hal smiled.

  ‘Well, get your bum in then.’

  Hal jumped up into the cab, and the truck pulled away.

  ‘What’s ya’ name mate?’

  ‘Hal.’
r />   ‘Nice t’ meet ya’ Hal. I’m Reg.’

  ‘So you do this run everyday?’

  ‘Yup. So what’s up in Brisse for ya’?’

  ‘To see my girlfriend,’ Hal replied.

  ‘Huh! Big Frid’y night out in Brissie then?’

  ‘I hope so. If I can get there in time.’

  ‘Well, if ya’ can get t’ the Coast, ya’ can get a bus from there.’

  ‘How far is it from Murwillumbah?

  ‘Seventy clicks, give or take.’

  ‘Well, hopefully I can get lucky with a lift.’

  ‘She’ll be apple’s mate. No worries,’ Reg assured Hal before a typically long Aussie bush silence fell on the cab as the miles ticked away. A sign flashed by indicating twenty-two kilometres to Murwillumbah. Hal readying himself to find another lift.

  ‘Bang! Hiss! Bang!’

  ‘What was that?’ Hal asked as he immediately felt the truck slowing.

  ‘Dunno mate. Sounds like a bloody head gasket,’ Reg said as the truck ground to a hissing and steam filled halt.

  ‘Geez, just had the bloody thing fixed,’ Reg cursed as he jumped from the cab, then kicked a tyre in disgust on his way to inspect the damage. Hal got down from the cab and joined Reg in the inspection. It was clear Reg didn’t have such useful conveniences as a two-way or mobile phone. But then again, a mobile phone is about as useful as an ashtray on a motor bike in the Australian bush, so Hal understood why he didn’t bother wasting his money.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Hal asked.

  ‘Wait mate.’

  It was a good half an hour before a car appeared in the distance heading towards Nimbin. Reg waved it down and gave the driver the address of the tow-truck driver in Nimbin. The driver agreed and said he would contact him as soon as he arrived. Hal didn’t bother joining in the conversation as the car was heading in the wrong direction for him. They then both sat and waited as nothing apart from one kangaroo moved past them.