The next morning’s sky was a heavy, dull yellow.
‘Looks threatening.’ Hylas remarked.
‘Looks like a typhoon.’
‘We don’t have them.’
‘We do, but we call them tropical storms and cyclones.’
‘What's in a name?’
‘Not much if you're in the path of one.’
‘Speaking of things to avoid, after two nights here I reckon motels and other such establishments belong on that list.’
‘Agreed. I hate sleeping in a bed someone else has slept in. What mites might inhabit the mattress and pillow? Who knows what dread disease infested their fingers when they opened the drawers and doors. I always feel I can smell their residue.’
‘I simply don’t like strangers.’ Fidel looked up with a slight frown. ‘Does that make me paranoid?’
‘Oh no, not you.’
‘But if you are, it’s the only safe state of mind to be in.’
Their refurbished transport worked as well as ever and the landscape was as dull as ever—flat land, sugar-cane-bordered straight roads with an occasional view to the west of low mountains. Then they entered a patch of forest and the road began to climb higher until a few kilometres later the view opened out onto a spectacular panorama across the Hinchinbrook channel to the island. Several hours of monotonous motoring later, they crossed the swollen South Johnstone River.
‘At last! This is the first place I’ve seen that actually looks tropical,’ Fidel laughed as the sun squeezed a couple of rays between heavy blue-black clouds. On the far side of the river, groves of coconut and other palms, flocks of cockatoos, and other tropical vegetation added to the exotic feel of very tropical heat and humidity. As the first humdrum suburban houses came into view the sun disappeared behind gravid clouds that looked more than ready to release their burden.
‘Uh oh…Protectors.’
Half a dozen men in black were stopping all incoming traffic.
Hylas rolled down the window and nodded an unsmiling but pleasant greeting. Overt friendliness and confidence are suspicious, Bart had impressed on them.
‘City Centre’s closed,’ the young officer announced curtly. ‘Cyclone due to hit in the next hour. Take the ring road ahead on the left and head for the hills. Find a sheltered spot and hunker down.’ He waved them on with one hand, while signalling the next car to stop with the other.
‘That’s a shame,’ Arnold said sadly. ‘I wanted you to see where this river meets the main Johnstone River; it’s impressive and there’s an attractive park.’
‘Next time.’
They followed the directions and headed inland, bypassing the town. Within a kilometre the road ascended sharply towards the tablelands. After twenty minutes Arnold pointed at an almost invisible track on the right that looked as if it might lead into the rainforest. They stopped to wait for the others. The view back to the coast was both alarming and impressive. A solid, dark and forbidding wall of clouds was made even more ominous by a silvery sliver of sea. The bits of the town visible in the distance looked makeshift and fragile.
‘I’m very glad I'm not down there.’
‘Me too.’
Bart and Robert arrived a few minutes later and agreed the place looked promising—as long as a tree didn’t fall on them. They bounced and skidded down into the forest, then along a track overhung by giant trees, to a slightly sloping clearing.
Arnold approved. ‘We’ll park at the top of the slope so we won’t be carried away if there’s a flash flood. We’re far enough from the trees, so if they fall it’ll only be the tops that'll hit us.’
They parked facing into what they imagined would be the wind direction and ate a hurried meal. The wind was picking up and only minutes later the trees a hundred metres away across the clearing were obliterated by sheeting rain driving almost horizontally, hurled along by a screaming gale that rocked their vehicles alarmingly. Swirling leaves and small branches pounded them, stuck to windows and turned an already dark afternoon to night. The noise was more than deafening. It shocked to the core. They felt punched, pounded assaulted both aurally and physically. Roaring, screaming, tearing and constant battering by debris flying at speeds fast enough to kill. They clung to the rocking seats in mute terror for over an hour before it appeared to lessen slightly.
‘I think it’s getting less strong,’ Hylas shouted.’
It was. And then became a brisk wind. And then stopped. Abruptly. Shockingly. And the world was quiet once more and each man discovered the others were also sitting white faced, tense, knuckles showing. Too battered mentally to do anything except breath deeply and try to relax. And then like other stunned animals they crawled out from their shelter to inspect the damage.
At first glance, only a few dents. A large one on Bart’s roof where a substantial branch remained. The forest, though, hadn't fared so well. All around them the canopy was almost bare, stripped of leaves and small branches that were piled in great heaps, including around their vehicles. Not a birdcall, but lots of other sounds, creaking, snuffling, and an occasional crash as a loosened branch fell. And rushing water. Two large trees at the bottom of the clearing had been uprooted and were lying across the open ground at the edge of a fast moving river that hadn't been there when they arrived. They’d been sensible to park on the higher ground.
With enough food for a few days, they weren't troubled. Apart from the mosquitoes it was a pleasant spot with excellent swimming, despite the leeches. Bart saw a platypus. Fidel and Hylas caught several small edible fish in a dam they constructed to trap them as the waters fell. And so it was with some regret that three days later the need for food sent them on their way, hoping to see the confluence of the two rivers that so impressed Arnold. Half a kilometre before the junction with the main north-south highway, however, a large barrier decorated with flashing lights and a couple of Protectors prevented further progress. The road was under water.
Around them, cheap houses of the outer suburbs had suffered a direct hit from the winds. It looked as if a giant in a tantrum had waded through, kicking and smashing everything in his path. Few places had roofs. Few trees remained standing. Power lines were down. Dejected people carried sodden goods outside into the sunlight or simply stood helplessly as if waiting for someone to do something for them.
As they watched, a helicopter chattered in and dropped a net full of something that broke apart on impact, causing people to race and grab whatever they could. The Protectors looked on as if it had nothing to do with them. A vile stench drifted from somewhere. Even if they could have driven through the flooded roads in front of them, the rest of the coast road was impassable due to washed out bridges.
They drove back up the hill to the Tablelands, replenished increasingly expensive fuel from the solitary service station still operating at Millaa Millaa, and stocked up on food from the sparse offerings of the supermarket in Malanda. The town was littered with dazed and drifting refugees from the coastal plain, unprepared for whatever had happened to them.
On the way out of town Hylas called ‘Stop’. A swiftly flowing river passed under the roadway and emerged on the other side as white water cascades tumbling about ten metres into what looked from the road like a huge pool surrounded by dense rainforest.
‘Let’s go down.’
‘Ok.’
They pulled to the side to wait for the others, who arrived minutes later and followed them down a steeply sloping access ramp to a neat car park with changing facilities on one side. A score of wide stone steps led down to a stone walkway surrounding the crystal clear water. Dozens of men and boys were diving, swimming, laughing, chasing each other or relaxing on massive stone terraces—but only on the far side. The equally attractive area beneath the car park was devoid of humanity.
‘Lets go for a swim!’
An instinctive determination to remain as inconspicuous as possible, caused them to park behind the ablutions block out of sight. Impatiently, they locked the vehicles and raced to the top of the steps.
‘So close to a town and yet so natural.’
‘Like most of the swimmers.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They're naked.’
‘So they are. I wonder…’
A discreet sign declared the pool was for men only. Any woman approaching within five hundred metres would be severely punished. The pool was too inviting to resist any longer so they raced down the steps, stripped, tucked their gear between rocks in case the wind came up, and dived in. It was cold and very refreshing. The swimmers on the far side took not the slightest notice…keeping in small groups with their backs to Fidel and friends. After a few strenuous lengths across their end of the man-made lake, they warmed themselves on the rocks beside their clothes, concealed from above by the terraces.
Bart went to check their vehicles and visit the toilet block.
While he was away, an official JECHIS bus arrived and disgorged twenty-five black-clad Protectors.
Fidel peered over the edge of the terrace. ‘Don’t look now, but we’re no longer alone. The cops have arrived. Please tell me it’s not to arrest us for skinny dipping.’
‘It isn't,’ Hylas whispered. ‘Look!’
The Protectors, who looked between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five, lined up at the top of the steps in military order and remained at attention until their leader gave an order. Then as one, they stripped, folded their uniforms neatly, and ran in single file down to the pool, dived in without splashing and began swimming from one end to the other. Their commander, who was a few years older, watched for a minute then also stripped, folded his uniform neatly and followed them in. Also an excellent swimmer.
‘They’re bloody fit—every one of them.’
‘Not an ounce of useless fat in the whole busload.’
‘But a shitload of muscles. And here I thought their sexy uniform was fake, designed to impress.’
‘I told you yesterday they’re all fitness freaks,’ Hylas laughed.
‘Although the codpiece does exaggerate a fair bit.’
‘I explained that—it’s reinforced for protection.’
‘Well, if your guy was anything like these blokes, your dalliance is understandable and forgivable.’
‘Actually, he was much better looking. These guys all look a bit dumb.’
‘Yeah, they wouldn’t win beauty contests.’
‘Isn't it character that counts?’
‘Character shows in your face. Good character makes plain people handsome, and vice versa.’
‘There’s not much wrong with their faces, it’s something else. I’d say most of them have been brutalised. I'm very pleased I'm not part of their group.’
‘Yes…I don’t think they’d like us much either. We’re too nice.’
Bart, who had been nervously watching the arrival of the Protectors from the ablutions block, took a careful look at the uniform of the leader as he returned to the pool.
‘The man in charge is Captain Jack Trent. They're from a training school in Atherton.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It’s stamped in gold on his uniform collar. I took a look as I came back.’
‘Oops…he’s looking at us. Somehow I don’t think he’s pleased. You don’t think there’s a reason no one was using this side of the pool, do you?’
‘We’re about to find out.’
‘You guys keep your mouths shut,’ Bart said tersely. ‘I don’t think this is a joke to him, so leave all the talking to me, no matter what. Ok?’
They muttered agreement as the godlike captain heaved himself out of the pool and approached, droplets of water cascading from lightly bronzed shoulders and chest. Like Hylas's acquaintance of the previous day, his body was shaved smooth.
‘This side of the pool is permanently reserved for Protectors.’ His tone was brusque to the point of rudeness. ‘You are trespassing and will be punished.’
‘We apologise and will move to the other side of the pool.’
‘Too late. All my men have seen you and if I don’t enforce the law they’ll lose their respect for it.’
‘I suggest it is for you they will lose respect, Captain Trent, because you failed to have the area checked for strangers before ordering them into the water. We could have been terrorists waiting to mow you all down.’
The captain’s eyes popped. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘It was told to me this morning.’
‘Who by?’
‘The officer in charge of scheduling surprise inspections.’
‘But…but why wasn’t I told?’
‘Because it wouldn’t be a surprise.’ Bart’s voice was razor sharp, his eyes slits and his tone impatient.
The captain quailed visibly, rallied, then nodded respectfully; waiting like the well-trained soldier he was for orders from a superior.
‘You will appreciate, Captain Trent, that it would be foolish of me to allow an excellent instructor such as yourself to lose his recruits’ respect over such a minor infringement, so I want you to return to the water to complete the planned schedule, then assemble your men on the flat area by the bus, where you will explain our presence as if you knew we would be already here. I’ll leave it to you whether to suggest they were lacking in care not to have informed you, then introduce me and I’ll give a little pep talk and that will be that.’
‘How do you want to be introduced?’
‘We’re official observers monitoring standards. That should suffice.’ Bart gave a terse nod and the captain saluted before returning to the water where he joined his men. After fifteen minutes of diving and swimming exercises he stood on the edge of the pool, gave an invisible signal and seconds later twenty-four glistening young men were standing in a close semicircle beside the bus, apparently unaffected by twenty minutes of strenuous exercise and a sprint up the steps. The captain explained the presence of the strangers, then stepped back to stand beside Bart. Robert and the others stood at ease in line behind them, amused by the respectful, attentive attitude of the young men.
Bart gazed critically at each in turn, then allowed himself a satisfied nod. ‘I am impressed with your discipline, fitness, agility, strength and appearance.’ His voice was calm, clear and warm with approval. ‘I congratulate Captain Trent on moulding such an admirable group of individuals into a coherent team.’ He paused to let the praise penetrate. ‘As you probably realise, Protectors are the temporal rock on which our society stands. Your job is one of the most physically and mentally difficult in the land, and without constant attention to the three pillars of wellbeing—discipline, fitness and mental health, life for Protectors can become an intolerable burden.’
The young men were standing rigidly at attention so Bart smiled slightly and ordered them to stand easy.
‘We have become concerned at the number of Protectors showing signs of depression due to the strains of such a responsible job. Inspections such as this have shown that most recruits are, like you, in excellent physical health, and well disciplined. What is not clear is their mental health. What are the essentials for good mental health?’
A hand shot up.
‘Yes?’
‘Friendship?’
‘Definitely. Friendship, companionship, feeling part of a group. What else?’
Silence.
‘What, apart from food and sleep, is the most basic need of healthy young men?’ Bart gazed benignly around before supplying the answer. ‘Sex.’
The slightest of nods from his listeners, whose attention was now firmly fixed on this naked inspector who seemed so…so human. Every other official they’d met wore a suit, looked unfit and acted as if he was God.
‘I sincerely hope you are all getting plenty of sex. The question I ask though, is what sort of sex? The “wham, bam, thankyou man” variety when all you do is thrust your erection into someone’s bum, mouth or hand followed by a quick orgasm, will do little except temporarily relieve the pressure. There will no positive effect on your mental health. Even if you shove your cock up every arsehole in the barracks you will remain unsatisfied. That's because men require more from sexual activity than a quick orgasm—Any ideas?’
Slight frowns and head shakes.
‘Men, real men that is, have a primeval need to caress, arouse, kiss and actively involve their sexual partner before intercourse. If it isn't a shared experience it’s worse than wanking because it treats your lovers as objects instead of valued friends.’
A tentative hand fluttered.
‘Yes?’
‘Won’t that make us like women?’
‘It will make you the absolute opposite!’ Bart snapped. ‘During heterosexual intercourse the woman is passive; on the receiving end of flattery, caresses, kisses and other stimulation the man must offer in order to arouse her. That is the male role! It isn't natural for a woman to do that to a man. What this means is, if a man passively accepts penetration or masturbation without performing erotic foreplay on his partner, then he’s acting like a woman, and the man who doesn’t take the time to stimulate, arouse and involve his partner before ejaculation, is not behaving like a real man. However, when two men kiss, caress and arouse each other for the pleasure and bonding it provides, then they become two halves of the perfect man, joined for a few minutes of bliss.’ Bart stopped talking, tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if asking for comment. ‘Is that clear?’ he asked.
Without raising his hand the same young man as before said, ‘If it’s Ok for…’
‘Don’t speak without permission!’ Bart snapped, then nodded permission for the chastened lad to continue.
‘I apologise, sir.’
‘Accepted. Continue.’
‘Sir, if we do those things, doesn't that mean we’re queer?’
‘Perhaps the most stupid thing humans do is put labels on other humans, as if everyone is either this type or that. But no one is only one thing; we are all many, many things. You are all very well disciplined, yet inside your heads you retain the individuality that makes each of you exceptional. We are all sexual creatures, that's as far as it is sensible to define us. Sex is just sex, no matter who or what you do it with. To say you may only have it with one sort of person is as silly as to say you may only eat bread and nothing else. Once you get to know people, you realise the label heterosexual is meaningless, there are as many ways of being a heterosexual as there are people…and the same goes for homosexual. They are meaningless terms only used by those who want to persecute. Just think of yourself as a sexual animal and enjoy yourself!’
Captain Trent coughed softly. ‘We have to be in Atherton soon. Will another five minutes be enough?’
‘Plenty.’ Bart gazed thoughtfully at his class, as he was beginning to think of them. ‘There's one last thing I’d like you to consider. Imagine that your fitness training was only done in private; you'd start to think it was something strange and possibly dirty. What would you think if you were only taught your duties as protectors one at a time in private? You'd start to wonder what the others were doing and learning. You'd begin to think there was something wrong, perhaps evil about what you were taught. Well it’s the same with friendship, love and sex. If kissing, stroking, fucking and other pleasures are kept hidden, only done behind closed doors, people imagine there's something wrong with them—they're dirty. Sinful. So be open and public about your friendships, loves, sexual desires and activities and you will feel light, happy, unafraid and whole. Sit watching TV with your lover and hold hands, cuddle and kiss if you feel like it. It’s fun, healthy, and keeps you sane. Secrets are death to sanity. Of course, you will sometimes want to be totally private, but that’s normal too. That's my whole point. Nothing is not normal, and as long as you have fun before you cum, you will be satisfied and remain sane—for a while anyway.’ Bart grinned and gave a slightly self-mocking bow.
His audience clapped politely and a new hand was tentatively raised. Bart nodded permission.
‘Do you have a lover and is that the sort of sex you have?’
The captain stepped forward. ‘You can’t…’
‘It’s a fair question, Captain,’ Bart said calmly. ‘We should always be prepared to put our money where our mouths are.’ He turned back to the questioner. ‘I have always enjoyed the sort of sex I described.’ He grinned boyishly. ‘That’s how I've remained so sane in this crazy world. And yes, I have a lover.’ He stepped back and turned to the captain with a friendly smile. ‘They're all yours, Jack.’
Trent’s chest swelled with pride at the use of his first name. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He turned to address the recruits. ‘We leave in three minutes.’
While they were donning their uniforms he drew Bart slightly aside. ‘You’ve said exactly what I've been wanting to say but didn’t know how.’
‘I understand. These things can only be said by strangers; otherwise the recruits might think you wanted to seduce them…which I imagine you do? They're a handsome lot.’
‘Would it be terrible if I did?’
‘If the young man desires it as much as you, then it would be excellent…especially if you didn’t hide away in your room as if it was a dirty secret.’ Bart grinned. ‘Are you going back naked?’
Red-faced, Captain Trent pulled on his uniform while Bart continued talking quietly so as not to be overheard.
‘Jack, you are a fine man and the boys like you. But you should have demanded my papers. You were far too trusting. Never again speak to a fellow JECHIS officer as honestly as you have to me, and don’t report this incident. There’s no one else back in the office like me!’ He paused to let that sink in. ‘I will keep our secret because we need more people like you, especially with the changes that are coming.’ He held out his hand to the captain who shook it gratefully before joining his recruits on the bus, which drove softly up the ramp and away.
The five friends immediately grabbed their clothes, leaped into their vehicles and ten minutes later were kilometres away on a side road, heading for a small lake that looked secluded—on the map at least. Robert was driving their vehicle…Bart had the shakes.