Stella was appalled and told them so. After a few words, she wrung a compromise from Cameron. She and Matthew would have a few minutes to convince the old lady to show them the way. If they couldn't then it was on to plan B.
Matthew sat down beside Aunty. He placed a hand on hers and in a short time, she fell silent. They didn't have to wait much longer before she got up slowly and turned from the grave to gaze at them.
“The cave is this way,” she said, and she walked into the forest.
They walked up a rise and soon the forest was behind them. They came to a small valley filled with scattered stands of big trees, clumps of scrub, and large boulders. The valley ended in a sheer wall of rock. The old lady had no difficulty walking up the slope. It was as if she was soaking up energy and strength from the place. Then she disappeared.
They followed after her and saw a shallow drop just beyond the top of the rise. At the base of the cliff, hidden by the lay of the valley floor was the cave entrance.
It was easy to understand how no one ventured upon it over the years. Perhaps the odd farmer looking for a stray sheep. If they did, then they had kept their lips sealed.
When Cameron walked in the entrance he was relieved to find the first chamber room. Although it was small, there was enough space for two soldiers to stand or lie on the sandy floor. He wasted no time organizing the guard duty to stand at the doorway to their sanctuary.
Keech watched Storm unload carry bags from the back of the ambulance in silence. The bags looked heavy. He could hear metal objects clunking about inside. Finally, he stepped in front of Storm with a quizzical look.
“So what did you say you have in them?”
“I didn't,” Storm told him.
“It sounds like they are full of guns to me.”
“Nope,” Storm said. “Nothing like that.” He gritted his teeth. The soldier was acting as though he was a cop.
Storm wanted to be left alone. The violence of Franchette's death had shaken him badly. He told himself it was not the visage of her bloodied body, but that it was Franchette of all people who had caught the bullet. The injustice of it all was hard to believe.
“Maybe, and maybe not,” Keech said.
Storm dropped the bags on the ground and pulled back the zippers. He gazed up at Keech. “Satisfied?”
The flush of anger overwhelmed him. Searing away the numbness he felt at the collapse of his world. He was surprised how his anger actually made him feel a little better.
Keech peered down at the oxygen tanks, regulators, and masks and the rest of the medical supplies Storm had gathered.
“Still—you can't afford to injure yourself, mate,” he said. “Let me give you a hand.”
Storm zipped up the heavy bag with the tanks and handed the soldier a strap. “Go for it.”
“I'm sorry the lady died,” Keech added. “She was a doctor as well. She should have stayed in the Bushy with us.”
“Yeah?” Storm replied, without so much as a glance at the soldier. “Well, now she's gone and we can't do a thing about it.”
Keech saw the determined set of Storm's face. He didn't speak again until they reached the mouth of the cave.
There would be no weapons allowed inside the chamber of their sanctuary. On that point, Aunty Wanganeen was resolute. It was only because of Michael's loss that she finally listened to the corporal's repeated requests. They reached a compromise. The weapons were to be stacked in the entrance cave. There they would be guarded by whoever was on sentry duty.
The old woman led them down a narrow shaft that widened as they descended. A greasy rope strung along one wall offered some support as the path steepened.
They knew they had reached their destination when they smelled a pungent mix of dried meat and smoke from a wood fire. A little ahead, they saw the faint yellow glow of a fire. As the refugees drew closer, they saw some forty individuals gathered around the fire. There were youngsters and gray-heads among the group huddled together in the center of a huge cavern with the dimensions of a cathedral. They had found the Jawindjira mob and sanctuary.
Neville Combo would have cut an imposing figure in his youth. Now, at sixty-seven years of age, he was still just over six feet tall when he straightened his back, but time and his own folly had given him a stoop. Combo was the leader of the clan and it was he, who announced their arrival to his group.
Combo told Michael his group could stay for as long as they needed and he showed them their quarters. Platforms had been built from strips of bark laid over wooden stick frames. The rough furnishings provided basic seats and their beds. It was rugged but a lot better than the hardness of cold stone.
Cameron and his men immediately set about establishing a separate space. After several attempts to find a level surface for their ground sheet and sleeping bags, they gave up and accepted the platforms like the others.
Aunty Wanganeen requested they each contribute a gift from their food supplies to Combo.
Boyd grumbled over how in a situation such as this, it should be up to the individual to be responsible for their own survival. He said those who had made poor preparations for such a situation had no automatic rights to the supplies of others.
Cameron told his men to quit griping. He ordered every one of them to give up at least five items from their personal provisions.
It didn't take long to get the provisions together and Aunty Wanganeen was able to fill a carry bag with tinned fish, packets of peanuts and dried fruit, chocolate bars, and chewing gum. She set the haul down in front of Combo and he nodded his acknowledgment and began distributing them among the mob. The gifts were accepted by the Jawindjira mob without comment.
49
Toady Under Fire
The sheltered far end of the low-ceilinged chamber provided only enough space for a single makeshift bed, which was fine. There was only one of them laying their head down at a time. In the morning, there would be a change of sentries. They could take their turn sheltering in the safety of the cavern with the others. That time could not come soon enough for Keech.
For Toady, it didn't matter either way. He was a loner. He stared with contempt at the platform of sticks they had lashed together. He hated camping. Perhaps it was odd for a man who volunteered to join the Army, but he had always thought all his IT training would lead to a job in a warm, dry office.
He had hoped to find employment with a company or maybe with the public service, but the one positive reply came from the military. Whenever he felt his life as a grunt was too much to endure, he remembered the job lists he worked through. The year he spent sending off applications. The endless lines of interviewees he stood among, waiting his turn to be interviewed. Now, here he was. A regular grunt in a cave.
It wasn't right, and he would say as much to anyone who listened, especially if they wore stripes. He was meant for an administration role. No one listened. Instead, he was berated and laughed at, and out of pure spite, they sent him into the outback to round up locals and imprison them.
“What you are, is whatever you're doing when your times up,” Keech told him.
“What I'm doing is working with uneducated bums,” Toady muttered, not bothering to turn and face Keech.
“Fuck you, Toady! Why do you think Cameron chose you to pull guard duty with me while they're safe and cozy in their hole?”
“Because they hate both of us?”
“No, you dumb shit! Because you are one self-obsessed, immature asshole! And, you're lazy. And everyone knows it except you!”
“I shoveled dirt today the same as all of you. You do know my last name is Williams, don’t you?”
“No, you didn't. I saw you leaning on your shovel most of the time. You don't think anyone notices, but they do. Sarge does. Cameron does.”
“Why did he choose you to pull guard duty with me then?”
“Because I'm the only one willing to go twelve long hours with your endless bitching and not end up beating you senseless,” Keech growled.
“You want the first shift or the second?”
Toady scowled and rolled off the bench. “Give me the first six hours.”
“Make sure you stay awake. Those bastards on the hill today might want to visit us and finish the job.”
Toady gave him an evil grin. “I might lead them to you while you sleep and watch them cut off your head!”
Keech stared at Toady in disgust. “You have no clue why it is no-one likes you, do you? I'm going for a piss before I hit the sack.” He shouldered his automatic and walked to the entrance but he didn't go any further.
Toady saw an odd light reflected in Keech's shiny face and his wide staring eyes. The man's shadow on the rock behind him was sharply outlined as if he stood in the beam of a spotlight.
Toady joined Keech and gazed up at an orb. A glowing orange ball hanging over the rocky ridge of the valley. It appeared to float in the blackness, the size of nine full moons. No—fifteen full moons! He could even make out the coastlines of continents.
“Where did it come from?” Keech asked. He was not looking to get a reply from Toady. He reeled and reached out for the wall of the cave to steady himself.
Toady's mouth was dry. His legs shook, but he hardly noticed. He wanted to go home, to his mother's house in Melbourne. Anywhere but where he was; in the outback under the weight of that thing.
The two men retreated back inside the cave. They considered running down the shaft to join the others underground. Toady slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. His gun fell across his trembling thighs. He stayed put in the sand as the polymer stock of his gun rattled against the stone floor. He had peed himself but he hadn’t noticed.
Keech sat white-faced on the edge of the stick bed.
“You take first watch.”
“Okay,” Toady said, and he got to his feet, still shaking.
“I—I'm going to sleep now,” Keech told him as he eased himself onto the platform and curled into a tight ball.
Toady stayed in the same spot for an hour, barely moving a muscle. All the time, he listened to the sounds of clicks and thuds. He did not want to look outside again. Not that evening. And yet, he felt drawn to the cave mouth. The flashes of light were more persistent now. Every so often, a shower of small stones bounced across the sandy floor. He was terrified, but he was also curious. It was the type of curiosity that killed cats. But, he was not thinking about that. He realized the shooters might be outside the cave and he was not about to let them come inside. He clambered to his feet and leveled the barrel of his gun at the entrance, crying out a warning.
There was no reply.
He brought the rifle up to his cheek and braced himself, ready to shoot the first figure to appear.
That was when the noise started up. It sounded like a large metal bell tolling and it getting closer. In only seconds, it became the grinding whine of an empty drum spinning at high speed. The cave floor lurched, knocking him off his feet. When the follow-up jolts hit, it was in rapid succession. Each came with more violence than the last, and they wouldn't stop.
Keech rolled off the platform and onto the cave floor. He scrambled in the dust to find his fallen weapon. The floor of the cave lurched again, and he was thrown against the wall. As he lay in the dust, he heard a terrible groan from deep below.
Earth was in anguish as it wrestled with the electromagnetic force that threatened to tear it apart.
Inside the cave, the two soldiers were choking in the thick dust.
Toady’s eyes were full of grit. He crawled on his hands and knees until he could feel twigs and leaves under his palms. The ground was hot. He stood and stumbled forward, but the ground tilted and he fell again. This time he scrabbled forward like a crab. Somehow he managed to get to his feet and when he did, he ran like the devil himself was in pursuit.
The wind shrieked between the rock walls of the narrow valley. Stones clattered down the slopes. The surrounding trees were getting pounded. Branches exploded around Toady. He heard a projectile zing past his ear. It was his basic training that made him flatten against the dirt. Shooters situated above him on the rocky hills were firing down on him. How were they able to take aim with the ground jumping around like it was?
A larger projectile passed over his head. He heard it whistle close by him. He buried his face in the coarse grass. Close to his ear, he heard a thump that sounded nothing like the impact of a bullet. It was more of a sizzle. The noise spit makes when it hits the hot plate at a barbecue. He could smell burning wood and something more pungent like the hot barrel of a machine gun fired too many times without rest. No, that wasn't right. It smelled acrid. Like molten metal and burning stone.
Something struck his hand, and he yelped in pain, rolling onto his back. He saw the night sky, full of bright red flames falling in liquid streaks. Bright embers skated down the side of the hill, raising showers of sparks. Thousands of bomblets burst overhead. He was staring up at an epic firework display.
Animal instinct alone might have made him raise his hand to protect his face, and he was amazed when he saw the hole. It was the width of three pencils held together. The smell of seared flesh filled his nostrils as he peered through his hand at the light show above.
He gasped in shock at a searing pain in his thigh. A larger projectile passed through his chest, but to Toady, it felt like a body blow; like a bus had hit him. It was a golf ball sized meteorite strike to his head seconds later that finally brought a merciful end to Toady's suffering.
Keech had reached the mouth of the cave. With his palms against the rock face, he was able to stand upright, even with the whole hill shaking. Outside the entrance, he watched the flames devour the valley floor. All the trees were enveloped in fire. The heat from the inferno was intense.
He shielded his eyes from the hot embers dancing in the air, and through the dust and smoke, he thought he could make out Toady. The man was lying on his back, not twenty yards from the entrance. He saw the limbs were bent at odd angles, like the broken branches of a fallen tree. “Hey, Toady,” he called out. “Williams! Come on back in here.”
If he was quick, he might be able to grab Toady’s legs and pull him to safety. But, he knew the heat was already overwhelming. He took a step out of the cave, but it felt like the door of a furnace had opened. The blast of heat was severe, and he felt the hair on his head burn. He fell back into the cave as the fire consumed Toady’s body.
The cave was filling with acrid smoke and he dropped to the floor where he knew there would still be a little air. He slid on his stomach, up to a fresh pile of rubble where the shaft leading to the cavern had been.
Iron oxide dust and heated fumes filled the interior of the cave making him cough and retch. He pressed his face against the wall and found he was able to breathe a little of the fresh air that escaped to the surface through the rock fall. He knew some of them must surely be alive down there, sealed in what had become a tomb. What a way to go.
He was struggling for lack of oxygen. His bronchial tubes were overreacting to a mix of dust, gas and a swift change in air temperature. The tissue in his airways already so inflamed he was no longer able to exhale.
For a long time now, he believed he had outgrown his childhood asthma. At the age of sixteen, confident and fit after a year of hard preparation, he succeeded in hiding his affliction from the Army doctors. Now, at the age of twenty-four, once more he was suffering a severe asthma attack. His chest was hurting from the effort to breathe, and with his strength failing, he curled into a ball.
Keech's retinas, starved of oxygen, fired a staccato of signals to the brain. The brain interpreted the messages from his eyes as an image of sparkly lights. The hemoglobin in his blood fell away having no more oxygen molecules to carry from his lungs. The rapid depletion of red blood cells meant vital organs began shutting down next. His lips and fingernails turned a bruised blue. Keech was dying.
The soldier's trained body was losing its fight to live. In the final minutes of his short life, Keec
h watched a private show of bright white stars popping off. They looked a lot like the sparklers he waved when he was an eight-year-old. He watched them until they were absorbed into the brighter light.
50
The Long Night
With the collapse of the shaft, the refuge had become their tomb. It was not a quiet one. The dull percussion of the meteorites striking the mountain was amplified and echoed by the stone ceiling and walls.
Families and brothers clung to one another, and there were many who sobbed in fear. Yet no one among them gave up the will to survive.
Cameron and Taylor sat close, while Boyd and Kwong chose to sit apart from them on their own platforms. If the light were sufficient to pierce the haze, they would have seen desperation and stubborn determination etched deep in the face of each and every huddled form.
As the hours went by the dust and fumes seeped through the rockfall and down the shaft to drift over them, and they began to suffocate. Should a hundred blowtorches have been applied to a mass of metal work inside their chamber, it would probably have resulted in a similar quantity of choking fumes.
Storm blinked his eyes, but the sting would not go away. He dragged the bag of oxygen tanks up on the platform and shone his flashlight on the bottles inside. He turned to Stella beside him on the same platform.
“Mom, I don't know how to do this.”
Stella pulled out the masks and tubes and spread them over the mat. “Is this all we have?”
“That's it,” Storm replied.
He should have filled another bag when he was at the surgery instead of giving in to fear. But it was too late to rethink his decision.
Matthew and Cameron crouched down beside them to help assemble the kits. When they were finished, they held the masks over their own faces and taking several deep breaths. Pure oxygen made all the difference. Their strength returned, and they were ready to distribute the kits.
Jubilee Year Page 25