The long straight stretches of road before Townsville were an invitation to speed, but they conserved their fuel, drove at the legal limit and attracted no unwanted attention. Forty kilometres before the city the sun was setting and the thought of trying to find somewhere to park so late in the day caused them to follow a modest sign advertising a store and petrol at a beach thirty kilometres to the east. If it was pleasant they might stay a while, having nowhere important to go, no people to meet and nothing to do apart from attending to their own needs. Nomads with bank accounts. A life style that was increasingly addictive. The thought of having to go to work every day, be there on time, meet and greet whether you felt like it or not, was very unappealing. And having no desire to do anything that might support the new regime, their present situation suited them perfectly. They'd not yet been bored.
The narrow sealed road meandered between fields of tall sugar cane nearly ready for harvest. Then the cane stopped and through the encroaching dusk they made out a band of scraggy trees. The road then traversed what looked suspiciously like a swamp, occasionally disappearing under a few centimetres of water. After crossing a rickety wooden bridge, the road ended at a circular turnaround under a canopy of trees on the edge of the beach. A lone car was parked in front of the unpretentious shop and takeaway that boasted three tables and two fuel pumps on a sealed area in front.
A yellow path stretching across glassily calm water to meet the rising full moon, created a beguilingly romantic atmosphere. They pulled in, topped up their fuel tanks then entered the shop. The woman at the register accepted their money, frowned as she counted it, then gave vent to a piteous sigh.
‘I haven't got much in the freezer (sigh) but if you're desperate, (sigh) I suppose I could rustle up something for youse to eat.’ On learning they weren't desperate—at least not for her food, she nodded in relief and returned to the TV.
A narrow track ran parallel to the coast past an empty camping ground, trailer park, and several uninhabited beach houses before petering out about a hundred metres into dense melaleuca scrub behind low sand dunes. They drove softly on until well concealed, then sat with the windows up, not willing to brave frenzied mosquitoes that hummed, swarmed and settled on the windows.
Eventually, covered from head to toe, faces protected by netting draped over hats, they managed to throw a meal together, set up the sleeping shelves, clear most bloodsuckers from the vehicles, and sleep.
The morning revealed malodorous mudflats stretching hundreds of metres out to the sea on one side of the low dunes, and a swampy wasteland on the landward side—breeding ground of the mosquitoes. Seagrass that had been dredged up by trawlers, had washed ashore and now lay in large smelly lumps, looking like dead sheep.
‘The sun seems to have sent the mozzies into hiding.’
‘Then let’s break our fasts before they regain their courage.’
‘Has everyone finished admiring the view?’
‘Yeah… makes you think, doesn't it?’
‘About what?’
‘That international trade is an astonishing triumph of human insanity.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘Deforestation to grow a zillion tons of sugar that's created a world-wide fat epidemic, has eroded the hills and given us these stinking mudflats. Dragging the ocean bottom, killing the coral and destroying the seagrass so dugongs starve to death and the beach is littered with muck, has enabled us to export a zillion tons of fish to feed the world.’
‘Only a zillion?’
‘You're not an easy man to please, Robert.’
‘Actually, I am. It’s just that what pleases others doesn't please me. I’ve come to the conclusion that money really is the root of evil. Without it there'd be no incentive to grow all this sugar, to remove every fish from the sea, or dig up every last piece of coal. If we had to barter we’d soon discover the real value of things. Without the ability to save and store wealth by hoarding bits of paper of zero intrinsic worth, we’d appreciate what is of value…the environment that provides what we need… not what we want.’
‘I vote we get away from this place before the mozzies return.’
‘Yeah. It’s nearly as evil as money. Surely it hasn’t always been like this? They wouldn’t have built the camping ground and those houses if this was the norm. And why are there no people here?’
An elderly man standing outside the shop nodded pleasantly when they drove past, so Fidel stopped, greeted him and asked where all the holidaymakers were.
‘It’s the tides,’ the fellow replied morosely. ‘They’ve been telling us for years that the seas were rising, but no one listened.’ He waved vaguely to the west. ‘Most of the land over there behind the dunes is just on sea level now, so when we have king tides the salt water spills over and turns the place into a swamp, killing the trees and breeding mozzies. And the beach is all silted up and stinks. Used to be good swimming and fishing at high tide, no stingers and hardly any crocs. Not any more. No one wants to stay here and I can’t blame them. If I could sell this bloody shop I’d scram too. We get the occasional sightseer but that's all. At least those JECHIS Protector bastards leave us alone.’ He stopped and turned pale. ‘I didn’t mean… I mean…’
‘It’s Ok,’ Arnold said with a sympathetic nod. We understand. Your secret’s safe with us.’
The old man nodded nervously. ‘Thanks, boys. My tongue’s always getting me into trouble. That's why I'm out here. Something I said this morning made the wife mad. I've no idea what, but she’s kicked me out and won’t even make breakfast—not that I feel like eating.’ He turned abruptly and disappeared around the back of the shop.
‘Poor bugger. Stuck out here; terrified of saying the wrong thing.’
‘Yes indeed. So I suggest we get out of the place before the tide comes in and we’re cut off.’
An hour and a half later they were driving through featureless suburbs.
‘Fuck this is a boring place. Flat, endless little boxes, clusters of boring little shops, where is everyone? It’s a bloody ghost town.
‘D’you think something’s happened? How long is it since we listened to any news?’
‘At least three weeks.’
‘We’ve been stupid. We have to keep up to date to avoid doing something that'll attract attention.’
‘Let’s stop at the next newsagent and get a newspaper.’
Hylas returned with a paper, ice creams and an official JECHIS handbill. ‘These were on the counter, so I took one.’
When the other vehicle arrived they drove to the next park, sat on the grass and Hylas read the latest updates.
‘From the date of this announcement, all marriages must be approved by the Department of Births, Deaths and Marriages. Marriages in the planning stage are herewith cancelled and permission must be sought before they continue. In keeping with the new austerity, marriage ceremonies will be simple and involve only the immediate family.
‘Women must choose to be either a wife and mother, or to be part of the commercial world—working to support herself.
‘Prospective spouses will be required to repeat the vows three times before a priest of JECHIS, for a marriage to be considered legal. The same process in reverse will annul the marriage. A man may take no more than three wives.
‘In the case of an annulment, the children will remain with the father who may take another wife. A divorced woman may not remarry.
‘Circumcision is expressly forbidden for both males and females.
‘All schools are now under the jurisdiction of JECHIS. The curriculum for boys will remain the same; that for girls will be restricted to learning things useful to their social position.
‘All primary health care is free, and all hospitals are now run by JECHIS.’
‘Nothing that affects us, thank goodness.’
‘Actually it makes sense. Research has shown that the children of two working parents do worse socially, educationally and health wise than kids with a parent that remains at home and takes care of them. I can’t imagine why any man would want to have more than one wife though.’
‘Yeah. That poor old bloke at he beach wasn’t an exception. And I've always been glad I went to a single sex school. My mates used to tell horror stories about the girls’ behaviour in the lower streams at their co-ed schools. The bright girls were Ok, but the others!’
Satisfied they weren't about to make a gaffe that would get them arrested, they continued into hot, dry, enervating Townsville, topped up their cash reserves and bought new pay-as-you-go phones, a monthly ritual to ensure anything that might have alerted the spies couldn’t be followed up. Having two vehicles travelling for the most part separately, the phones were essential for coordinating meet-ups. After a visit to the aquarium they wandered along the central mall and stopped to watch a troupe of acrobats.
Suddenly, Fidel grabbed Hylas’s arm and whispered, ‘Look over there, next to the dead palm tree. That woman.’
‘It’s Mum—I think. Hard to tell with that scarf on her head. Yes, it is.’
‘She looks old and nervous. Who’s with her?’
‘Can’t see anyone. Don’t tell me the silly bitch has come out alone.’
‘Lets ask her for the amulet.’
After telling the others to watch out for them, they crossed the patch of grass and approached the woman.
‘Excuse me, Madam,’ Fidel said quietly, ‘But do you have a son called Fidel?’
The woman looked startled. Stared at him for several long seconds then whispered as if afraid of being overheard, ‘Fidel! Oh my boy! How wonderful to see you. You’ve no idea what trouble I'm in. The man I've been with has kicked me out so I've no one to protect me from those JECHIS crazies…’
‘Shhh! Do you want to die?’
‘Sorry. I'm just so excited to see my darling boy again.’
‘What about this darling boy,’ Hylas said softly.’
She stared, shook her head, then in a scarcely audible whisper, ‘Hylas. You're a man! Now I have two men to take care of me like I took care of you.’
Hylas and Fidel exchanged looks of incomprehension. Did she really think she’d taken care of them?
‘I was wondering, Mum, if you'd taken the amulet from the wardrobe, and if you did, can I have it?’
She fished the small bone pendant on a leather thong from inside her blouse and held it up. ‘This thing?’
‘Yes. I’d really like to have it seeing my father promised it to me.’
‘No, I want it. It might be valuable. Anyway, he wasn’t your father. He was a fuckwit who lost his job.’
‘So you murdered him.’
His mother’s head snapped up. ‘I did not! He…’
‘I saw you.’
Instead of arguing, she stared from one to the other in silence as a slow smile spread across her face, revealing stained teeth. ‘Take care of me,’ she said softly, ‘or I’ll tell those Protectors over there that you're the people who blew up that building in Brisbane. You’ve tried to change your appearance since, but I recognised you in the photos—they were in all the papers and on TV for weeks.’
Fidel shook his head sadly. ‘Mother, you’ve not asked how I survived when I left home, nor have you asked how Hylas fared when you took off. You’ve shown no remorse for making our lives miserable. You refuse to give me the amulet. You’re still a nasty, vicious, evil woman and I never want to see you again.’
As he turned away his mother screamed at the top of her voice, ‘Help! Help! These two men were molesting me! Help, they're the Brisbane bombers. Help!’
They ran, but curious onlookers blocked their path and seconds later their arms were up their backs, wrists handcuffed and they were on their knees with faces thrust into the grass. Their mother was in a similar position. A black van bearing the JECHIS crest arrived. They were bundled into one compartment, their mother into another.