“Alistair said something last night that made a lot of sense. Come to think of it, he said a lot of stuff that makes sense. Anyway, when a country turns to war, it gets brutal on its own population.”
Pete fell silent a while thinking about his conversation during the early hours with Storm’s friend.
“I found it hard to believe half the stuff Alistair was telling me. Did you know there is a full-blown civil war going on in the US? The media haven’t told us about that. The USA and China are both at war with their own people. How can a government make war on their citizens? And here we are eager to jump into a war between the US and China, Russia and Iran! What are they thinking in Canberra? We’ll end up getting nuked. Things are just getting crazier by the day.”
Storm told Pete about the road trip and Martyn’s warning. He didn’t mention Davenport. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility he had got the man so terribly wrong.
Pete asked a few questions here and there and listened until Storm’s story was finished. Then he got up from the table and went to the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of beer.
He offered one to Storm, but Storm refused.
“I’m really feeling like something stronger,” Pete muttered as he pulled the tab. “But this will have to do.”
He chugged the entire can down, then whistled for Champ.
The dog pushed open the kitchen door and sat on its tail in front of him, resting his paws on its master’s knees.
Pete fussed over the mutt, stroking its coat and pulling on the long silky ears.
Storm watched his dad in silence. He had seen Pete act like this plenty of times before, working things out in his head, like what it was he wanted to say.
“You know, when I was a kid, a Jubilee was when the local church raised money by having a market day. That was the tradition. Grandmas would raffle their bottled of pickles and jam and that kind of thing. I thought the money all ended up in the hands of the Parish.
“Jubilees might not have been big money makers for the church, but they would have seen a better return than they got from the average Sunday collection. The priest would look jolly, rubbing his hands and slapping people on the back. I guess the church jubilee amounted to a bonus for the priests and the nuns. It meant they had extra money for repairs to their house, and if they were really lucky, they might be able to trade in their car for a later model and maybe have some left over to buy booze.”
He rubbed his knuckles in the center of Champ’s head. The dog loved him doing that.
“I never heard of a Jubilee like the kind you said this fellow Martyn described to you. But you know what? I bet those priests had a good idea of what that was all about, and I bet they still do.”
The Sky Is A Lie
Pete was feeling vital again. He had work to do. Things were making sense at last. He considered how it wasn’t smart to pretend life would go on as usual. He had come to the realization that before today he had might as well have been drifting through life with his eyes closed. Now they were open. He told himself he was not too old to change his ways.
“What Martyn said to you about the solar system might explain the red sunsets and sunrises—the lights behind the clouds,” he said to Storm, nodding his head in agreement. “That sounds right to me. We can’t always trust what we see. Even our sky is a lie!”
“He also said they can’t hide what is happening for too much longer,” Storm told him.
“Are they the lot Alistair called the ruling class?”
“Martyn calls them elites,” Storm informed Pete.
“I won’t pretend I understand it all,” Pete said with a sigh. “But, I do get that there’s a lot hidden from us. If somebody told me a few years ago, we would have a second star passing by the Earth I would tell them they were cuckoo. Now I’m thinking about finding a refuge chamber.”
“What’s a refuge chamber?”
“A strong container used by miners to provide them sanctuary when there’s an accident below ground. In some mines, they are over three thousand feet down. They are stocked with food and water, and they have quick-fill stations for empty oxygen cylinders too.”
“Hey, Dad!” Storm exclaimed. “How about the Capria Slopes mine? That place is big, right?”
“They do have the best chambers,” Pete said nodding his head. “But you would have to fight for a seat when the shit hit the fan. Even then, provisions would last days and not months!”
“Then what do you think we should do?” Storm said, refusing to give up hope.
“Do you really believe everything he said?” Pete asked him.
Pete felt tired. But the lives of the ones he loved most were at stake. He knew he could not let them down.
“I was beginning to think Martyn is totally insane and was just playing some sick game. Now I think about everything he said, and it all seems to make sense. That and the fact he was just so strange he has to be for real. I don’t know that makes sense, but if you’d have been there, you’d know what I’m talking about.”
“You know how we are told Siding Spring is a murder-suicide?” Pete asked. “Well, I was down at the pub drinking with a good mate. There were these two farm workers standing at the table next to us. It turns out they were working right under Mount Woorat on that very day. We overheard them talking about how they were looking for runaways from the farm. They were working their way through the scrub running along the fence line of the property opposite the turn, when they saw a truck parked at the intersection surrounded by road works signs, road cones, and barriers and things. They took it to be a service truck from the council and thought nothing more of it.”
He crouched down beside Champ and stroked the dog.
“Then they heard these explosions coming from the Mount. Straight away they said the road workers packed up their gear. Then an SUV came flying down the hill and the truck took off after it.”
Pete scratched the dog’s bristly jowls and gazed up at Storm.
“You know, all we get on the news is that the police have a suspect. Just one suspect! And their investigation links the murders and the fire to what they are saying is a suicide. I think it’s all too tidy.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think too,” Storm said.
“Come inside,” Pete said, getting up from his chair. “I’ve got something to show you.”
He walked through the kitchen and down the hallway. He returned he dropped a map and a roll of papers onto the table.
“Capria Slopes is about two hundred miles away. You will need a CB radio to listen to the truckers warnings about government roadblock along the way.” Pete allowed himself a smile. “Truckers are always up with whatever’s going on.”
“Good idea,” Storm replied.
“You need a backup plan,” Pete told him.
“Won’t be needed,” Storm declared.
“Why not?”
“Because we have to be underground—in a refuge chamber. You said it yourself.”
Pete began running through all the details of the Capria Slopes mine, down to the names of the key personnel Storm might run into, their work shifts and their phone numbers. When he finished, he folded the map and slid it across the table, along with several old dog-eared company documents and an address book. He watched the boy scaring everything, committing every detail to memory.
Pete heated two meat pies in the oven and made a pot of tea. Before he sat down at the table to eat with Storm, he took a roll of notes out of his back pocket and pressed them into his son’s hands.
“It’s best you take it.” Pete gave him a sheepish smile. “You probably thought I was a miser. Now you know. I never did have much in my account to begin with.”
“Dad, why don’t you keep it? I’ll borrow Mom’s car in the morning. We can buy all the provisions together.”
“It isn’t like I am going to need this money to pay bills,” Pete told him.
He turned at the sound of a light rapping on the metal side rim of
the screen door. Pete gave a low whistle, expecting to see the dog’s snout push around the corner. Instead, a voice called out.
Storm pushed open the screen door and saw a young man with a worried look on his face in the light from the kitchen.
“Are you Storm Elliot?” The man asked with a polite smile and a trace of urgency in his voice.
“Yes,” Storm replied.
“I’m Matthew.”
Storm shook the hand thrust at him. “Are you looking for my dad? He’s in the kitchen. I’ll get him.”
“I can’t talk out here,” Matthew told him.
“Oh, sorry,” Storm said taken aback. “Come on in.”
Pete stared in surprise at the young aboriginal man.
“Hello, Mr. Elliot. I am Matthew Wanganeen. I have a message from Stella.”
Matthew glanced at Storm. “And I have one for you from Penny Boulos.”
“You better sit down then,” Pete said. “Is my wife all right?”
Earlier in the year, Stella had been diagnosed with a heart condition. It was not requiring urgent treatment, the hospital had told her. It was something to monitor—for the time being. Those last four words continued to haunt Pete.
“Your wife is fine, Mr. Elliot.”
“Where is she?” Pete asked.
“In Marsfield with your daughter. I brought them to my home along with Penny and her parents.”
“Michael is alive?” Storm asked in disbelief.
“Yes, my uncle rescued him. Well—I suppose it was more like he kidnaped him,” Matthew added with a strained laugh. “Michael asked me to go to Franchette’s and bring her back. I found Stella and Summer with her. She said the only way she was going with me was if they were going to come too.”
Pete drew a hand over his brow. “I thought you were going to tell me something terrible happened.”
“Mr. Elliot, you can follow me in your wife’s car. She told me she left it at her house.”
Pete turned to Storm. “Take Stella’s car.”
“You’re not coming?” Storm asked with a sinking heart.
Pete shook his head.
“But why stay here?” Storm protested.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Pete said. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you after I’ve eaten a pie and had a cuppa.”
He cleaned away some breakfast crumbs in front of him with the side of his hand then looked up at Storm with a smile.
“I going to wait for Champ to return, that’s all.”
“C’mon, Dad. We can come back for the dog tomorrow. I’m not leaving without you.”
“Son. You know once we leave here we are not going to come back for Champ. He will get back to the house and bloody well take off again. Maybe he’ll even try to track us. He’s my mate and you can’t leave a mate behind.”
“Dad—” Storm began.
“Come and get me tomorrow morning. If the dog’s not back, then I’ll leave without him. I’m an old man and need time to collect my things. I got to find my spare pair of specs. I have to make sure I have all my medicines, oil up my boots—that kind of thing.”
Storm knew changing Pete’s mind once he had made it up was near impossible. He gave his dad a hug instead. “Alright. See you tomorrow, old man. I’ll try to get here before midday.”
Pete slapped Storm on the back. “I’m proud of you, son. You know that, don’t you?”
“Likewise, Dad,” Storm said with a grin. “See you in the morning.”
Part III
SYNTHESIS
Mobilizing The Troops
Storm found them in the living room gathered around the TV, watching the twenty-four-hour news channel. Government run, it was broadcast over a national linkup for a saturation coverage. It was all much of a muchness because news on every channel stuck to the same editorial policy, dictated by nameless government agents monitoring all radio and TV to ensure there was no drift away from the program. It amounted to a prescription of how the audience was to interpret the world and its events, at least the ones they were allowed to know about.
“Storm!” Summer shrieked with delight and launched herself at him. “Where’s Daddy? Is he outside?”
“No, Sum,” he said quietly.
Storm felt guilty all over again for not having talked Pete into making the journey with him.
Matthew introduced the elderly couple he simply called Uncle and Aunty, and Uncle told him to fetch another chair from the kitchen.
“Pete’s not with you?” Stella asked.
“Champ ran away and Dad wanted to wait for him…” Storm said, knowing how lame it sounded. “And he wants time to get his things together. He wants me to pick him up in the morning.”
“Oh, what a pigheaded man!” Stella exclaimed. “Waiting for a stupid dog to come home.”
“I’ll head for Coona first thing, Mom. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll come with you,” Penny said quietly. “To keep you company.”
“I’m sorry,” Storm replied. “I tried.”
“He’ll be waiting for you in the morning like he said,” Stella said patting his hand, more to console her than him. “Did you hear the latest news?”
Storm shook his head.
“They announced a state of continuity of government and it’s effective from tonight. The governor-general has asked the prime minister to step aside.”
She pointed to the TV screen, and he saw the red text at the bottom that stated they were watching a news alert.
“What did he do to get himself fired?” Storm asked.
He wasn’t all that interested in hearing about the politicians. He had only one inhabitant of Parliament House on his mind and it was not the prime minister, whoever it was at the moment.
“They haven’t told us yet,” Stella said. “Not the real reason anyway.”
“Yes, Michael,” Franchette said and she gave Michael a sharp glance. “Why would they dismiss the prime minister? After all, we voted him into office!”
“Well, it isn’t like it’s the first time it has happened,” he replied raising his eyebrows at his wife’s sudden outburst.
“The Army has been mobilized and they are telling us it’s all for our own good,” Stella said angrily, surprised at the strength of her emotion. “They tell us we need to have the military in control under these new emergency measures. That sounds like a coup d’état to me!”
“I don’t know if I would go that far! Franchette said stared at Stella with a stunned expression on her face. This is about making sure the terrorists don’t win. You heard what the governor-general just said, didn’t you? We need to stand strong as a nation! Surely you understand that?”
“Have you ever seen the Raras armed before,” Matthew said quietly to Michael. The last thing he wanted was for an argument to break out in front of the old couple. There was already a little too much tension in the room for his liking.
Michael shook his head. “No, can’t say I have.”
“Did you notice Rara carrying a sidearm in the footage of the motorway protests?” Matthew said.
“No, that’s impossible!” Franchette said, having caught every word. “They wouldn’t give that lot guns! They are not that well trained.”
Michael shook his head. “There never was a need for them in the first place. Why does the country need a paramilitary group made up of angry, lost youth looking for a fight?”
Uncle stood and shook the end of his staff at the television screen. “We ought to make plans!” He declared. “Before them lot make them for us.”
“Matthew, I need a drink,” Michael said. “If you have anything strong I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll make a hot drink for everyone,” Matthew suggested.
“I wasn’t thinking something stronger,” Michael grumbled.
“We don’t have liquor in the house,” Aunty told him sharply and she pulled at Uncle’s shirt to get him to return to his chair.
“That’s too bad,” Michael replied and
slumped back in his chair.
Star Wind
“When we were kids, we always painted the Sun yellow,” Aunty announced. “Because that’s how it used to look.”
Stella nodded her head in agreement. “
And these days it looks white!” Aunty continued.
Michael coughed to get attention. “Sunlight appears yellow at dawn and dusk when it passes through the greatest quantity of atmosphere,” he said. “The blue wavelength is filtered out. When you see it high in the sky, it is only appearing white. The actual color of the Sun doesn’t change. What changes is the angle of Earth’s tilt—and our atmosphere.”
“How is the atmosphere different?” Stella asked him.
“There’s less of it,” Michael told her. “The past couple of years the Inuit in Greenland and in Alaska have warned us Earth has a wobble. Recently, they say the stars, the Moon, and the Sun are no longer where they expect them to be found in the sky for the season. This tells us the tilt of the Earth has shifted. Any change to that extreme and fragile environment impacts their way of life. Their days are now longer and the temperatures warmer. The jet air streams do not circulate the way they used to anymore. This situation accounts for all the extreme weather we are experiencing. It’s hard to miss, right? Not only the jet streams have changed. In recent years, so has the magnetosphere that protects us from space radiation—and the Sun is flashing.”
Aunty Wanganeen frowned. “You say you’ve seen the Sun flashing?”
“Other people have,” Michael nodded. “Another curious thing is the number and kind of meteors we are seeing lately!”
“Damned meteors!” Franchette muttered.
“From January through to April—and again six months later—fireballs come at us from behind the Sun,” Michael said. “When you consider all those oddities together, you begin to see how they might point to an underlying cause. We have had a lot of startling changes in a very short time!”
Michael took a deep breath.
Jubilee Year: A Science Fiction Thriller (Erelong Book 1) Page 18