Ash hid the car about three kilometres outside of the camping grounds.
It was precautionary – just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. He also knew guns were extraordinarily rare to the average Australian, and had chosen to leave it behind, still tucked away behind the driver’s seat.
With his backpack slung over one shoulder, Ash offered his arm as he helped Ivy through the dry plains. They walked for almost forty minutes until Ash spotted hundreds of white tents scattered in an empty field, surrounded by metal barriers.
There were people everywhere, walking aimlessly around the camping grounds like caged animals. Nerves igniting once again, Ash stopped dead in his tracks when he realised there were security officers standing by the entrance.
Before they could gain access to the refugee camp, they would be subjected to a bag and body search.
Although Ash had left his gun behind, he still had his mobile phone, along with the charger in his pocket. As it was such an out-dated and obscure item, the security team would probably become suspicious of the mobile device. Hell, they might even find the security chip. He could give away his entire identity if he made one false move.
Still holding onto Ivy’s hand, he sought refuge behind nearby trees.
“Whoa, where are we going?” asked Ivy.
Ash pulled out the Skye-Scroll tablet from his backpack and explained he could see a security check point. Ivy, however, was not at all fazed.
“We have no place else to go, Ash,” she said. “This is our best option right now.”
He could see there would be no convincing her, so Ash did the only other thing he could do; he concealed the phone in a place no one would look – inside his pants.
Bunching together the phone and charger, he slipped the items in front of his crotch, made a slight adjustment and hoped for the best. Ash and Ivy moved onwards to the refugee camp. Ash tried his best to keep his anxieties in check.
An older man, standing outside the main entrance, smiled as they approached.
“Good afternoon,” he called.
Ash managed a small wave. Ivy muttered a hello. They tried walking past but the man put out an arm, halting them and then pointed to a table beside them.
“Just put down your bag, champ,” he said, pointing to the backpack. “I’ve just got to take a quick squizz inside.”
Once he’d inspected the bag’s interior, they were given the all clear to proceed. They’d only stepped a few metres when a second security officer stopped them. She did not offer the same warm greeting as her colleague had.
“I need the pair of you to stop right there and spread your arms and legs,” she said, slipping gloves over her hands.
Ivy was first. The officer ran her hands over her body, which seemed entirely more invasive than what Ash had anticipated. The blood pounded in his ears. To be caught now, after everything he’d been through, would be a failure in every regard.
Once the officer was satisfied with Ivy, she beckoned to Ash.
“OK, you next,” she said.
He stepped forward, spread his arms and legs and flinched the second she touched him. Ash nearly stopped breathing as she ran her hands down his torso, then slowly began creeping them back up the inside of his leg.
Thankfully, she stopped at his thighs. No doubt if she’d gone higher, she would’ve touched something that seemed beyond its usual proportions.
Fortunately, the phone and charger remained concealed and unnoticed. Ash thought he was in the clear, but the security officer wasn’t done with him yet.
“So, where have you come from?” she asked, pulling off her gloves.
His tablet already in hand, Ash typed in a message,
“Queensland.”
She made a face.
“You can’t talk?”
“No. I have no voice.”
“How come? Have you had a throat injury or something?” she asked, but then after catching a glimpse of Ivy’s scarring she added, “Ah, never mind.”
She stepped back and gestured a thumb over her shoulder.
“You’re both free to enter, just sign your names on the log book as you go in.”
Ash eyed a thick notebook resting on a table just outside of the last metal barrier. He and Ivy walked over to the table and glanced down at it.
There were hundreds of names written down. Ash picked up the pen, but hesitated – what to write? He figured he’d also have to sign in Ivy on her behalf, but of course he could never use her real name either.
After deliberating it for a moment longer, he scribbled in the only thing that came to his mind – John and Jane Doe. He then dropped the pen and walked in. Thankfully, nobody came over to inspect what he had written.
Once inside the camping grounds, Ash was hoping to blend in with the masses, but it would be far easier said than done. The majority of the crowd were wearing masks – even children.
Ash scanned his eyes around, seeing nothing but shimmering skeleton faces. They all seemed to stare back at him. He and Ivy were already the outcasts.
“Hey you,” called a Riot Reaper, pointing towards them. “Come over here for a sec. I’ve got something for you.”
Forcing his legs to move, Ash took Ivy by the hand and stepped towards the Reaper. His piercing blue eyes were the only part of his face showing from behind his own façade.
“Take these,” he said, handing Ash a pair of masks. “Welcome to the family.”
Loathing the fact he’d drawn attention to himself, Ash put his own on immediately. Next, he helped Ivy into her disguise. She tried to fight it, not understanding they were being viewed as the outsiders, but eventually agreed to wear it. Once they were masked, the wandering eyes diverted elsewhere.
“Should we claim a tent or something?” asked Ivy. “I want to take this bloody thing off my face for a bit. I can barely breathe in it.”
He agreed the facial cover was uncomfortable and bulky, but Ash was truly grateful her face was concealed. The less people that recognised her, the better.
However, Ash still wanted to find a place away from prying eyes. He still had his phone lodged in his pants, but he urgently needed to use the device – discreetly.
With only one hour remaining before the scheduled transmission, he would need to make a direct connection to his army to alert them of the impending rebellion.
It was then, Ash recognised one major flaw in his plan to make a phone call to the British Army – he could not speak.
Without a voice, how could he talk on the phone? Ash felt his fists tighten. He had now endured almost eight months with a conversion disorder and it hadn’t improved in the slightest. Ash had tried, but he’d failed to find the words.
He needed to take a new approach. Immediately.
“Ash?” said Ivy, snapping him from his daydream. “Can you find us a tent?”
He took her by the hand and led her around the camping grounds. He peered into every tent that he walked by, but every single one seemed to be heavily occupied. Not good. He informed Ivy of the problem and then thinking on the spot, Ash excused himself,
“I have to take a piss. Wait here. I’ll be back.”
He darted away from the tents and looked for a secluded tree. With his back turned, Ash stood in front of a bush and unzipped his fly. He pulled out his mobile phone and hit the power button. His fingers shook as he waited for the phone to load the main menu. By luck, the mobile still had a strong signal. Ash scrolled through the contacts and came across a recognisable name,
Lieutenant Colonel Jeremy Clarke.
Ash hit the call button. It started to ring through. It was answered just three rings later,
“Hello?” asked the thick British accent. “Who is this?”
Ash quickly turned down the volume, not daring to let anyone overhear the voice. As he could not talk back, he did the next best thing he could do – he ended the call and prepared to send a text message.
At first, he struggled with the keypad. Each number corresponded to a certain number of letters, and then Ash had to push the same button several times to even get the letter he wanted. He had only composed the first three words when he heard footsteps creeping up behind him. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder to see a Riot Reaper had ventured towards him.
“Hey,” called a Reaper. “Are you playing with yourself over there?”
Panicked, Ash pocketed the phone as the stranger stepped a little closer.
“There are kids around here, mate. If you’re going to rub one out, do it somewhere else – the hell away from here.”
Ash zipped up his fly, turned around and raised his hands in the air – as if signifying he was not engaging in any dubious behaviour.
“Keep it in your pants, alright?” hissed the Reaper.
Ash shrugged his shoulders and headed back towards the camping ground. Burying his hands into his pockets, Ash reached for his phone. He fumbled a thumb over the buttons and attempted to redial Clarke’s number. Risking a quick glance down at his mobile, he pressed the call button again and then slipped the phone back into his pocket.
If he couldn’t speak or text, just maybe somebody in close proximity would hear background noise and hopefully piece the puzzle together.
It was the only hope he had left.
Once standing back with Ivy, he took her by the hand and continued to search for an empty tent. There were none. Each tent seemed completely packed out.
Ash eventually gave up looking and decided to wait near the Skye projector. A massive screen had been set-up right behind the tents. An audience had already started to gather around. He guided Ivy towards the group of people, hoping to catch earshot of nearby conversations. Unfortunately, there were only faint murmurs made from the people hiding behind the masks.
As the time wound down towards five o’clock, the crowd began to build.
Voices became louder. People spoke with traces of excitement, but Ash could feel the sweat beading on his forehead. He desperately wanted to check his mobile – just to see if the call had gone through – but it would be far too dangerous right in the middle of hostile territory.
Just fifteen minutes before the next transmission was due to air, there was a sound of an explosion, echoing far from the distance.
Ash swore he could feel the ground moving beneath his feet. The crowd was instantly silenced, but before long the chatter started up again in a weird blend of mixed emotions. The reverberating boom had come from the direction of the nation’s capital, but there was still no confirmation.
Minutes passed by, and the projector began to show a blue screen, counting down the minutes until the next transmission. However, the latest broadcast came a little earlier than anticipated.
The blue screen cut to a live feed of a Riot Reaper, holding a bloodied knife. Slowly, the camera panned out. There was a body on the floor. As the camera focused, it became clear that the body belonged to Lieutenant Colonel Jeremy Clarke. He lay dead at the Reaper’s feet.
“I am Taz, soldier of the Riot Reapers,” said the knife-wielding masked man. “I have stepped forward, on behalf of my own army, to fight for what is rightfully ours.”
Some people in the crowd gave a fisted salute towards the projector. Ash could slowly feel his body shutting down. He stared at the dead man lying in a pool of blood. He’d only tried calling him in the last hour. Now he’d been stabbed to death.
Suddenly, the camera cutaway and a new image flashed on the screen. Two Riot Reapers were helping untie an injured man wearing a suit. Ash suddenly realised it was the President. Alive. Saved just minutes before his scheduled death.
The camera flashed back to Taz.
“We have rescued Brock M. Hoffman,” he announced. “For our President’s safety, we will be moving him to a secret location.”
There were cheers amongst the congregation. Ash was loathing every second of it. If only he had done more, or if only he’d sent a message the moment he’d heard about the rebellion – maybe he could’ve made a difference. It was far too late for that.
“We are looking for more recruits to join the Riot Reapers,” said Taz, making his own fisted salute. “Our own army can only do so much, but the rest of us? We have the power. We have strength in numbers.”
Ivy squeezed Ash’s hand. Although he could not see her face, Ash was sure she was positively beaming underneath.
“The east coast has been invaded. We must defend our home,” continued Taz. “Tonight, you must fight with us. We will take back our cities. We will fight for our country! Any Pommy bastard found on the streets after tonight will be slaughtered.”
There was a roar of applause from the crowds. Ash could barely breathe.
“It’s us against them, but we will come out on top.”
The transmission then ended. The blue screen did not reappear though. Instead, footage was shown of Riot Reapers carrying around explosives, fighting on the streets of Canberra. There were hundreds of self-made soldiers – if not more – brandishing knives as the moving pictures flashed upon the screen.
Ash felt sick to his stomach.
“This is bloody fantastic,” cried Ivy. “Those Brits don’t stand a chance...”
The surrounding crowd was positively beaming with joy, but the Australian’s victory would be short lived. The beast had been stirred.
Suddenly, planes roared overhead. The retaliation was imminent.
Gazing to the skies, the crowd caught one glimpse of the aircraft and the people began to disperse in all directions. The jubilant celebrations ended before they had really started, and now panic had been left in its place.
“Ash?” said Ivy, grabbing him by the hand. “I think we should get out of here.”
***
Like ants scattering from a sudden raindrop, people were running in all directions.
A storm was looming. In more ways than one.
Some people returned to their tents to collect their belongings, while others fled by jumping barricades, desperate to seek refuge elsewhere.
A howling siren began to echo from a nearby town. The air strike was coming. Gripping onto Ivy’s hand, Ash steered her through the chaos with one clear focus in mind – get back to the car. He didn’t even know where he would go from here, but that was the least of his worries.
Overhead, the war planes had returned. They circled above like vultures, keeping a keen eye on its prey. Ash and Ivy had only run five hundred metres when the first bomb fell from the sky.
A shell dropped directly into the heart of the campsite, bringing a burst of light and a wave of heat. The sheer force made Ash fall forward, bringing him to his knees. Ivy fell with him, screaming, unfiltered with terror.
The sound of distress calls seemed to surround him. He could barely think straight, let alone climb back to his feet.
Ears ringing, he somehow managed to push himself up from the dirt. Ash helped up Ivy. She was trying to tell him something, but her words were lost in the white noise.
More enemy planes snarled as they thundered across the sky.
Ash flung Ivy’s arm around his shoulder, trying to help her along. She finally picked up the pace, clutching onto Ash for dear life. The further they ran, the fewer people they saw. People were running in a different direction, but Ash was determined to steer away from the crowds as he headed back to the hidden car.
There, parked behind a low hanging tree, Ash spotted the Skye-car. He helped Ivy into the passenger’s seat and then slipped into his own. After ripping off his Reaper mask, he brought the engine to life and clasped his hands over the wheel. He then floored it, kicking up a storm of dust, not daring to look back.
“Wait, Ash,” croaked Ivy, pulling off her mask. “There were so many people back there. We should take some of them with us.”
He gave no reply. He was squarely focused on his survival. Although he had mistakenly taken lives from his own army, he refused to be killed by them. Ivy continued to badger him for some time, even screaming like a banshee when he didn’t reply, but this was hardly a moment for conversation.
Delicately handling the car over foreign terrain, Ash found himself back on the main road. He turned onto the highway and started heading north. He saw a few other cars heading in the same direction.
In the rear-view mirror, the sky had turned black.
He exhaled deeply, giving himself a moment to collect his thoughts – but Ivy was never going to give him the courtesy.
“What are we going to do now?” she sobbed.
His heart still thumping against his chest, Ash didn’t even have the capacity to think straight. He flicked on the radio, hoping to silence the sound of nearby sirens, but there was an eerie silence. Ash then switched it to another station. Still nothing.
“Ash?” winced Ivy.
He did not communicate back to her. She started to whimper. Ash looked towards the sky, hoping for a sign or absolution – yet again there was nothing.
However, twenty minutes later, the radio began working. A voice echoed from the speakers,
“This is your president,” said the voice. “Brock M. Hoffman.”
Ash cranked the volume.
“Tonight, our Australian army, along with self-made soldiers orchestrated a surprise attack on our nation’s capital. Although the fight continues, we have now re-established control over some of our television networks and radio stations. I was also rescued just before my planned execution. Men and women put their lives at risk to spare mine tonight, and for that – I am forever grateful.”
Ash felt his fists tighten.
“I have also been advised to move to a secret location,” continued Brock. “I will not abandon you, Australia. For my own safety I must stay hidden, but I will be coordinating our armies across the country. Our predicament is bleak, but we will overcome this. Together we will stand united.”
Ash thought he sure knew how to talk like a politician.
“Lastly, to any Australian fearing for their families’ safety, I urge you to go west – as far as you can. Ideally Perth, or somewhere within that vicinity,” said Brock. “From the west coast, we will be launching refugee boats towards Asia, seeking aid and assistance from some of our alliances.”
“Perth?” gasped Ivy. “That’s all the way on the other side of the bloody country! Does he expect everyone to travel all the way there? Ridiculous.”
“I am still in transit from Canberra to a new location, but I will make a video announcement of the latest developments, when time allows. In the meantime, please, stay safe.”
The radio then cut out. The silence did not loiter for long.
“How can he do that?” shrieked Ivy. “He’s running away! Bloody coward.”
Ash seemed to agree. However, the president wasn’t the only coward either – Ash had started to feel the same way about himself. He had always been audacious in the most challenging situations, but now it felt like his armour had worn thin.
The fear? He felt it more than ever.
He was not ready to re-join his army yet either. Even for his own safety, he wanted to keep himself out of sight for a while. Although he had attempted to forewarn the British about the Canberra attack, it hadn’t been enough. He’d blown yet another opportunity to erase the many errors he had made.
Just then, flying overhead in a flock formation, more British warplanes tore through the clouds.
Hands still locked on the wheel, Ash gently let one hand go and used three fingers to tap out a message on the dashboard,
We should head west.
“Where?” asked Ivy. “To Perth?”
Yes.
“It’s almost four thousand kilometres away,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, we’ll just be running away from the problem. I’ve told you before – I want to fight.”
Another explosion echoed out, shaking the ground beneath the vehicle. Ash struggled with the wheels as the car almost veered off the road. Glancing behind him, he caught a glimpse of a new plume of smoke rising into the sky.
He tapped out yet another code to Ivy,
I promised to keep you safe.
This time, she did not dispute it.