The danger zone was far behind them now.
They crossed the border into New South Wales a little after eight in the morning. Weary and drained, with only two brief stops along the way, Ash had coordinated the Skye-car to a location just a bit beyond the halfway mark – Byron Bay.
It had taken almost fifteen hours. The roads were virtually deserted, only passing a few other vehicles en route. Their car had driven itself the majority of the way – though Ash had taken the wheel to bypass the roads through Brisbane – and they were now only minutes away from reaching a place of rest.
“I’ve never been to Byron Bay before,” said Ivy, speaking for the first time in hours. “All the kids in school used to go there during their summer holidays, but I always missed out. I’ve heard it’s quite a lively destination.”
Ash didn’t want to disappoint her, but he could only see decay and destruction as they edged closer to the town centre. Evidently, the war had ploughed through the once-vibrant town like a twister, leaving nothing but wreckage and ruin in its path.
Most of the surrounding buildings and houses were nothing more than piles of debris and rubble. He could also see two dozen or so tents set up in a nearby park, along with crowds of people. Ash felt his stomach knot and twist. Although he had abandoned his commando uniform back at the house, the reality hit hard – he was in enemy territory.
“What do you see?” asked Ivy, hopefully. “Are there people around?”
Ash keyed in a reply,
“Yes. There are a few around.”
“We should tell them our story, maybe they’ll help us.”
“No, Ivy. You still need to keep a low-profile. I can keep you safe, but you need to conceal your true identity.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know, but you’ll need to trust me on this one.”
Flicking the system back into classic mode, Ash took the wheel and looked for a place to park the car. He pulled up alongside the kerb and killed the engine.
Ivy unbuckled her seatbelt, as if preparing to exit the vehicle, but Ash put a hand across her chest and pushed her back into the seat.
“What the hell-?”
“You need to stay here.”
“What-? Why?”
“You’re still wearing your air force uniform.”
“So? Why does that matter?”
“What if there are British soldiers around? What if somebody recognises you and tries to harm you? I need to find you a change of clothing before you can leave this car.”
She put a hand over her shoulder, trying to hide the RAAF insignia, but then cowered further into her seat.
“Fine,” she said, “but can you buy some supplies while you’re gone?”
“We don’t have any money.”
“Yeah, we do,” replied Ivy, and she turned her sleeve in, revealing a tucked away zipper. She tugged the fly down and yanked out a couple of bank cards.
Ivy handed them over to Ash.
“Where did you get these?”
“I found it back at the house. Somebody’s wallet was left by the nightstand so I went through it and claimed anything I thought would be of value. I mean, I don’t exactly know what I’ve collected there, but I’m assuming they’re money cards.”
With raised digits, a Skye-pay chip and magnetic swipe – they were indeed legitimate bankcards; a credit and a debit card under the name Mr. Marshall Lennox.
For small purchases, Ash could use the Skye-pay chip, but bigger purchases would require a thumbprint, one in which he did not possess.
Ash thanked Ivy, pocketed the cards and then opened the driver’s side door. He took his Skye-Scroll tablet with him – just in case.
The moment he stepped outside he caught a whiff of salty sea air mixed with smoggy remains. There had been a fire, or a series of fires, burning through the town recently. Ash already had a few ideas of what might’ve happened, but he had all the confirmation he needed by the sight of heavy footprints in the mud.
Baibots. They had wreaked havoc.
Walking down a pathway blanketed with ash, he kept his head down and hurried on his way. There was no denying his nerves. He had truly stepped into the unknown.
Further down the street, he spotted a sign on the corner with a painted black arrow pointing to the right. Above the arrow, it stated, ‘Supplies. Aid. This way.’ He could see a couple of people walking in that direction and decided to follow.
After walking for a few minutes, he heard the faint murmur of voices just a few blocks away. He turned the corner to see a congregation of people, without a single trace of joy – just devastation.
Men and women, wearing blackened, sooty clothing were lined up in front of marquees handing out water and food. The line to the first aid clinic was even longer.
Children, their faces covered in dust, sat on the kerb in silence. Their sorrow-stained eyes seemed to follow him as he strolled by.
Feeling far beyond his comfort zone with every second, Ash hurried by and joined the queue. He waited in line for almost twenty minutes, only to walk away with four wheat biscuits and two bottles of water.
Rationing. The real struggle was only beginning.
There was also a clothing bin beside the marquees, with many lost souls helping themselves to whatever they could find. Ash approached the mountain of unclaimed fabrics and began to search through it. Ash picked out another two shirts for himself and a second pair of pants. It took a lot longer to find clothing for Ivy – especially as she’d never worn anything besides her uniform – but he found two collared blouses, a pair of black leggings, denim shorts, ladies’ size seven shoes and a cotton cardigan. Ash collected it all, hoping she would approve. With a bit of reluctance, he also picked up a bra and panty combo – just in case Ivy required it.
Ash stuffed everything into a cardboard box, conveniently discarded next to the clothing bin and raced back to the car.
He found Ivy right where he’d left her. She jumped, startled by the sound, as Ash pulled open the passenger side door.
“Ash?” she asked, with a trace of uncertainty.
He rested a hand on her shoulder and placed the box of clothing on top of her lap. She put her hands into the box, touching the different fabrics.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to help me out here,” she said. “I can’t make heads or tails of what this is.”
Ash moved around to his side of the car and slid into his seat. He pulled out his Skye-Scroll tablet and described the items in the box. Ivy thanked him again and asked Ash to pull out specific items and hand them to her as she undressed.
Ash averted his eyes. For the most part.
Ivy removed her clothing and tossed it all in the backseat. She also gratefully accepted the bra and panties. With a few adjustments, Ivy put on the underwear followed by a white blouse and the denim shorts.
Lastly, Ivy slipped into the pair of shoes – an almost perfect fit.
Although Ash never really had an eye for style, he thought Ivy looked good. He’d picked the right clothing. Best of all, she would easily blend in as just an average Australian woman, looking to make the best in a bad situation.
Ash typed a message into his tablet and hit enter.
“You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “Do you think we could go for a walk now? I’m dying to stretch my legs.”
Ash pocketed his valuables and climbed out of the car. He also helped Ivy out and lent her an arm as they began walking. They strolled by a line of severely charred homes and found themselves on the beach.
To Ash, it brought back unwanted memories of his time on the island. Moments flickered through his subconscious, but it was in the past now. He had to let it go.
Feet sinking in the sand, they walked closer to the ocean’s edge. He caught a breath of fresh air, instantly soothing his soul, if only for a minute.
“Ash?” began Ivy, stroking his arm. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I probably didn’t say it enough in the beginning, but thank you.”
He took Ivy by the hand, guiding her along the shoreline.
At last her façade was beginning to weaken.
***
Once they’d returned to the car, they slept overnight and then hit the road for almost another twelve hours.
Though they mainly stuck to the highways, the plumes of smoke could be seen in every direction. The smoke haze clung to the sky, masking the usual magnificent blue emptiness.
After avoiding the roads leading into Sydney, Ash tried the radio. As predicted, the British had also seized control of them.
Many of the stations were stuck on a loop, alerting listeners there would be a transmission from Canberra at five o’clock, Eastern Standard Time. He continued to tune through stations until he heard a song he recognised and hadn’t heard since his childhood. His grandparents had always played the music on devices called vinyl players. The familiar melody put a smile on Ash’s face.
“Switch it off. It’s so distasteful,” said Ivy, crossing her arms.
Perplexed, Ash made an inquiry.
“What is?”
“Listen to the music, Ash – it’s The Beatles.”
“You don’t like The Beatles?”
“It’s a British band,” she replied. “Under the circumstances it would be highly inappropriate to listen to this.”
He hadn’t even considered it from Ivy’s perspective, but the choice of music was definitely an attempt to rub salt in the wounds. Ash turned off the radio.
However, only fifteen minutes later, the radio switched back on itself, and automatically retuned to a certain station.
“This is Lieutenant Colonel Jeremy Clarke,” said the voice, echoing from the speakers. “It has come to our attention that many Australian citizens are being uncooperative and some have started to rebel. Anyone associated with the Riot Reapers or any other underground organisation will be killed. On the spot.”
Ash almost stopped breathing.
“The seventy-two-hour deadline is almost up, and we’ve had virtually no relevant information brought to us about Operation Endurance. If Australians fail to come forward with what they know, your President will die. Today.”
Ivy swore under her breath just as the transmission cut out.
“Those bastards,” she hissed. “They’ve hacked The Skye.”
“How do you know?”
“The radio just switched itself on. It’s the only explanation.”
A worrying thought crossed Ash’s mind.
“Can they hack this Skye-Scroll?”
“Yeah, probably. I reckon any device linked to The Skye could potentially be hacked. You might want to be careful what you type on that thing.”
Ash thought about all the messages he had entered into the text to audio converter – had he mentioned anything incriminating? He felt a familiar spike of anxiety, but it quickly subsided. There were billions of devices linked to The Skye, the equivalent of a lone star in an ever-expanding galaxy. Ash’s messages were hardly noteworthy, nor would they have any relevance to the bigger operation.
Continuing on the road, the navigation system indicated they were now only twenty-five minutes from reaching Canberra. Ash was already trying to work out what to do when they reached the destination, but they encountered a problem.
People, wearing death-like masks, had blocked the road.
They wore black from head to toe, all brandishing knives. Ash flipped the car back into classic mode, tossed down his tablet and took the wheel. He eased his foot off the accelerator and gradually started to brake.
“Whoa, are we slowing down?” asked Ivy, sensing the abrupt movement.
The car came to a complete halt, just twenty metres from where the masked strangers were standing. One stepped forward.
“Ash?” she uttered. “Why have we stopped?”
He picked up the tablet again. He frantically began typing.
“There are people blocking the main road to Canberra.”
“What-? Brits?”
“No. People in skeleton masks.”
As he pushed the enter button, Ash finally made sense of the disturbing transmission that had played over the radio just a short time ago. There had been a mention of a group called the Riot Reapers. Ash believed the people standing before him were a part of the rebellious uprising.
The Reaper that had stepped forward just a moment ago then began to walk closer, approaching the car, still clutching a knife by its side.
Instinctively, Ash thought about his gun. It was tucked away behind his seat, but if need be, he could grab it within a few seconds.
Ivy was still asking questions. Ash informed her about the looming Reaper and suggested she keep quiet. Surprisingly, she complied.
The Reaper tapped on the glass. Ash wound down the window.
“And where do you think you’re headed, mate?” asked a male’s voice from behind the terrifying mask. “This road is closed.”
Keeping his hands steady, Ash typed a message into his Skye-Scroll tablet and showed it to the Reaper.
It said, Canberra.
“Why aren’t you talking?” snarled the Reaper. “Speak to me properly.”
“He’s mute,” said Ivy, leaning towards the open window. “Well, it’s conversion aphonia to be absolutely specific, but he can’t use his voice to communicate.”
The masked stranger bent down and glanced across the car, towards Ivy.
“Hey, what happened to your face?” asked the Reaper.
Ivy pressed her lips into a thin line.
“I’ve recently lost my vision.”
The Reaper gave a hearty laugh.
“Let me get this straight, you’re blind and he’s a mute? What a pair!”
“Mocking somebody over their disabilities is spiteful and wrong,” hissed Ivy. “Show some bloody respect.”
“Oi, settle down,” barked the Reaper. “I’m having a joke with you.”
“This is not a laughing matter.”
So much for her keeping quiet.
“Listen lady,” began the Reaper, wagging a finger. “Myself and the other Riot Reapers are putting our arses on the line for you, and every other Australian caught up in this war. The reason we’ve blocked off the road is because we’re organising a major operation in Canberra tonight. If you continue down this road, you won’t be coming back.”
“What kind of operation?”
“We’re going to hit those Brits for six,” said the Reaper.
A chill ran down Ash’s spine.
“How exactly?” asked Ivy, lowering her voice.
“I can’t tell you the details yet. Just stay here for the night – we’ve got refugee camps just over the hill about five minutes from here. They’ll find you a tent and you can watch tonight’s transmission from a Skye projector we’ve set up. Trust me, tonight’s screening will be a spectacle you don’t wanna miss.”
Ash’s breathing quickened. He was only half listening as the Reaper gave directions to the exact location of the refugee camps. He put the car into gear, but the Reaper still wasn’t letting them go yet.
“Just a sec,” said the Reaper, peering at Ivy again. “You look sort of familiar – I reckon I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Ash watched as a flash of panic crossed her face, but she recovered quickly,
“Did you ever watch that reality show Deep Sea Dating?”
“Ah, yeah, maybe several seasons ago...”
“I was a contestant on that.”
“Oh yeah!” said the Reaper, snapping his fingers. “Thought I recognised you from somewhere. Hey, aren’t you the one that got dumped in the shark tank?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
The Reaper laughed. Hard.
“Yeah, that was classic,” he chortled.
Ivy forced a smile and at last they were given the all clear to go. Once the window was wound up again, Ash typed into the tablet,
“Deep Sea Dating?”
“I wasn’t really a contestant,” she replied. “It was the first thing that came into my head...”
“What if he looks into it and works out you lied to him?”
“I doubt he’ll even remember by tomorrow.”
“So, are we going to go to the refugee camp?”
“Hell yes, didn’t you hear? Something is about to go down in Canberra. We’ll just keep to ourselves and watch tonight’s transmission. Once we know what’s going on, we’ll work out our next move from there.”
Ash punched in the new coordinates to the camp and the car began moving once again. He still had his hand clamped over the wheel, trying to piece together his scrambled thoughts. Although he still wasn’t entirely sure what the rebellion’s plan would entail, he had a feeling it would involve an attack.
Ash needed to warn his army. He could still be a hero.