Only minutes after entering Broken Hill, the city went into lockdown.
Ash had just pulled the car alongside the kerb when howling sirens rang out, almost deafening as pedestrians began running through the streets.
The smoke on the horizon had turned a shade darker as thunderous echoes rolled across the barren plains.
“What now?” whinged Ivy, as she climbed out of the car.
A man passing by heard the question and gave an unsolicited answer.
“You ought to get back in the car and drive,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It’s just been confirmed that the British have shut down the borders. They’ve got soldiers guarding every main road into South Australia and now the troops are moving forward.”
Ivy started shaking her head, lost in denial.
“No,” she said. “It can’t be.”
“I’m serious! Get out of here while you still can.”
The man turned to leave. Ivy put a hand on him.
“But we can’t all run,” cried Ivy. “Somebody has to stand up to them.”
“Lady, they’ve got machines with them too. We don’t stand a chance.”
He then broke her grip and started to run. The sirens seemed to shriek louder. Ash tried to think of what to do next, but the screams clouded his thoughts. Finally, he ushered Ivy back into the passenger’s seat and slipped behind the wheel.
“Where the hell are we supposed to go?” asked Ivy. “We can’t just turn around and go back now, can we?”
He knew they were less than fifty kilometres from the state’s border. If the British had deployed troops within the area, Ash was closer to reuniting with his army than he’d first envisaged. Thinking on the spot, he put the car into gear and decided to chance heading west.
However, many others had chosen to flee, and the sudden evacuation left the roads highly congested. Although Ash was trying to head in the opposite direction, people in cars had deliberately blocked off both westbound lanes.
The car was stuck in gridlock. He couldn’t move anywhere.
Bashing his hands on the dashboard, Ash’s patience had worn thin. He wanted desperately to rest his beaten body, but life had thrown him yet another curve ball.
Forked lightning ripped across the sky, followed by an almighty bang. The looming storm seemed to escalate the chaos, but the situation truly reached its tipping point when the sound of plane engines began to grow louder.
Ash glanced towards the sky. The danger had already arrived.
Flying in formation, five British warplanes began to drop shells. In plain sight, one was dropped at a main intersection. Ash only ducked his head down just in time before the windscreen burst over them.
Ivy screamed. Ash tried to reach out to her, but the day had turned to night. A wave of heat seemed to wash over his skin, burning deep into the bone. When Ash tried to open his eyes, he was blinded by a cloud of smoke.
For a moment, Ash swore he’d descended into hell.
Squinting through the haze, Ash could no longer see the road ahead. The main intersection was now just a smoking crater in the ground.
If they stayed put, they would surely die.
Ash refused to accept his peril. Especially at the hands of his own army.
Springing to action, Ash stuffed all of his belongings into his backpack and flung it over a shoulder. He jumped out of the car, ran around to the other side and pulled Ivy up from her seat. Grasping her hand tightly, they began to run.
More shells were dropped, echoing down the streets behind them. Ash had virtually no bearings as he sprinted aimlessly down the overcrowded roads.
He needed to get away. Large groups of people would surely be an easy target for the bombers, so Ash decided to zigzag his way through quieter streets, determined to leave the masses behind him.
Soon enough, the terrain beneath their feet began to change from bitumen to gravel, and then eventually dirt.
When he finally summoned the courage to look back, Ash saw yet another city up in flames. He could still hear the sirens. The screams lingered too.
Patting down his trouser pockets, Ash pulled out his mobile phone and pushed the power button. He waited as it came to life, before a crushing realisation knocked the wind out of him.
No signal. Ash couldn’t call his own army, even if he wanted to. The stress of the last twenty-four hours began to take its toll. Ash felt his exterior beginning to crumble, like a sandcastle that had taken one too many hits from oncoming waves.
A soft hand fell over Ash’s shoulder. Ivy then grabbed his hand.
“Ash?” she whimpered. “Where are we going?”
Although it felt like the world had been ripped out from under his feet, Ash tucked his phone away and used his tablet to make a simple reply,
“We follow the road, wherever it takes us.”
***
They walked for hours.
Without a car, they had been left stranded with little choice but to head to the nearest town. Ash had spotted a road sign indicating a place called Silverton was their best option, but the journey would be long and arduous.
Aside from two half empty bottles of water and four packets of rice crackers, supplies had run dangerously low. Even Ash’s Skye-Scroll tablet had less than fifteen percent of its battery remaining, so he had chosen to turn it off to reserve the rest of its power.
Then, as the storm rumbled across the sky, there was a downpour. They were left saturated, struggling to move as their drenched clothing clung to their skin. The weather eased up eventually, but the dark clouds remained, leaving them chilled.
Two and a half hours into the walk, Ash dropped down beside the road. He felt on the verge of convulsing, as his body began to jitter uncontrollably, but he remained conscious.
“Ash?” asked Ivy, after hearing him fall. “Where are you? Are you OK?”
He stayed down for a while, but eventually summoned the resolve to rise again. Ivy then took Ash’s arm and draped it around her neck. Although he had no desire for the support, Ash accepted the gesture.
Aching in every muscle, they finally reached Silverton. His legs were now jarred, screaming in discomfort with each step. Ivy said nothing of her agony, but her body had started to tremble under the pressure.
He began to slow as they wandered down the main road. Just when he tried to stop, Ivy kept him going.
“We can’t stop yet,” she uttered, her teeth chattering. “We have to find shelter first, or we’ll never get back up again.”
He was running on empty, but somehow her words gave him one last bout of determination. Ash looked for somewhere to recuperate, but it seemed his luck had finally run out.
Silverton was a ghost town. Everything seemed either shutdown or closed for business. He wandered further along, wondering if the entire town had been abandoned, keeping Ivy close to him with every pained stride.
There were a few scattered homes left within the vicinity of the town, but were dilapidated and uninhabitable. There was, however, one property that seemed maintained.
Located in the middle of a large slab of land, stood a solitary house, surrounded by native trees. There also seemed to be a farm of some sort located behind the property.
Not knowing where else to go, Ash decided to give it a chance.
The land was all fenced in – probably as a means to keep wildlife away – but Ash located an entry point. He pushed open the gate. The rusted metal groaned in protest, but eventually gave way and allowed access.
They staggered down a pebbled pathway and reached the house. Ash took the three stairs up to the front veranda and glanced in through a window.
The furniture inside was old and rustic, but tidy.
“Ash, where are we?” asked Ivy, her chest hitching. “Are we at someone’s house?”
He tapped his foot on the decking, telling her yes.
“Let’s try the front door. Maybe someone will help us.”
He took her by the hand and strolled over to a beautifully carved timber door, depicting an echidna. He was about to knock, when he eyed a bell hanging to the right of the frame. He pulled the chord and let the bell chime.
They waited. There was nothing. Ivy’s patience had worn thin.
“Is anybody home?” called Ivy, bashing a fist on the door. “We need help.”
Suddenly, footsteps pounded across the floorboards, and before long the front door opened up.
A middle-aged woman – somewhere in her forties by best guess – stood in the doorframe. She had features to suggest she had an indigenous background, and her face was soft, welcoming, but her mouth dropped open at the sight of them.
“Blimey,” she said. “It looks like the pair of you have been through the wars!”
Ash narrowed his eyes. Ivy didn’t filter herself.
“You trying to be funny?” she snapped.
“Oh, no. It was just an observation,” replied the woman, humbly. “But is there something I can do to help you?”
“We’re injured and we need somewhere to rest,” said Ivy, before adding. “Please.”
“Sure, come in,” replied the woman, holding the door wide open. “I’m happy to lend a hand if you need it. You both must be freezing! That wind has been frightfully cold since the storm passed over...”
On the verge of collapsing again, Ash pushed himself to stay on task and looped his arm around Ivy before they stumbled inside.
“Gosh, you’ve both taken a beating! I can tell,” exclaimed the woman. “Also, can I ask for your names? I’m Magenta. Like the colour.”
“I’m Ivy and he’s Ash,” she replied. “He doesn’t talk though.”
“Oh, I see. Fair enough.”
She didn’t probe him for an explanation. Ash was thankful for it. They were led down a hallway to a cosy lounge room with two sofas and an armchair. Ash and Ivy crashed down onto the sofas, craving to rest their aching bodies.
“You kids are in a bad way, aren’t you?” said Magenta, as she pulled a first-aid kit from a cupboard. “How did this happen? Where have you come from?”
Ash could no longer keep his eyes open, drifting dangerously close to an unconscious state. Ivy was in no mood for a conversation either, but she summoned the last reserves of her energy and gave a reply.
“We came from Broken Hill. We barely made it out alive.”
“But what happened to you?”
“You mean to say you didn’t hear the explosions? You’re probably less than thirty kilometres from the attack’s epicentre.”
Magenta blinked twice. Uncomprehending.
“Explosions? Attack? What do you mean?” she asked.
“The Brits. They just bombed the shit out of Broken Hill.”
“Really? I heard some loud bangs several hours ago but I assumed it was just the storm rolling over. Why on earth would somebody do something so awful?”
Ash fluttered his eyes open. Magenta’s question seemed genuine.
“You do realise the British have made landfall, right?” began Ivy. “They’ve been conquering our cities for weeks. I mean, those Pommy bastards have got troops all over the east coast and now they’ve apparently closed state and territory borders.”
Magenta’s eyes widened.
“Oh, I wasn’t aware we had been invaded,” she replied. “I keep to myself, mostly.”
“Are you telling me you had no idea about the war?”
“Oh, I’ve heard snippets here and there, but I don’t know the full extent of it.”
“How can you avoid it? It’s everywhere,” said Ivy. “There are reports in the papers, radio and on the television. How can you be that oblivious to it all?”
Taking it as a rhetorical question, Magenta just shrugged her shoulders and continued pulling swabs and bandages from her first-aid kit. She tended to Ash first, eyeing the crusted blood from his weeping wounds.
“It looks like you’ve been stabbed!” exclaimed Magenta. “You poor fella.”
Ash barely moved a muscle as she glued his wounds closed and applied a sterile padding over the top.
“Are you thirsty?” she asked, looking at him directly in the eye. “Can I get you something to drink? Water perhaps?”
Ash nodded. She whisked away into the kitchen for a moment and brought back two glasses of water. Magenta handed one to Ash and then placed the other one down on the coffee table in front of Ivy.
After assessing her injuries, Magenta knelt down in front of Ivy and gently pulled the sunglasses away from her face. She gasped aloud.
“Oh, what happened to your eyes?” asked Magenta.
“I suffered a facial injury last month,” replied Ivy. “It’s blinded me.”
“So, you can’t see?”
“Nope. Not a damn thing.”
“That explains why you keep looking off in the distance,” she said. “I thought you were just being shy...”
Then Magenta laughed. It was a joyous cackle, which was an unfamiliar sound to Ash, like she truly didn’t understand the gravity of their country’s predicament. As Magenta began bandaging up Ivy’s lacerations, a black dog – probably a Rottweiler – strolled into the lounge room. It had its tongue hanging out, panting. Ivy sensed something was walking close to her and curled her body up, alarmed.
“Don’t mind him,” said Magenta. “That’s just Gizzy. He’s a big softie.”
Ivy reluctantly put her hand out. Gizzy gave it a sniff, a lick and then moved along to greet Ash. He gave the dog a pat on the head, before closing his eyes again. Magenta finished patching Ivy up and then packed away her first-aid kit.
“We need to rest for a while,” said Ivy. “Please, it’s been a really hard day.”
“Of course,” replied Magenta. “Just yell out when you want something to eat.”
Ivy sprawled herself across the sofa and was out like a light within minutes. Ash, as per usual, had trouble switching off his mind.
His exhaustion was almost starting to hurt. Beyond his throbbing limbs, he felt pained as he drifted into sleep. He could not find peace even in his dreams.
***
He awoke to the sweet scent of a beckoning aroma.
Just as he pulled himself up from the sofa, Ash saw that Ivy was beginning to stir too. He cracked his back, stretched his arms and tried to find his bearings.
Ash had slept for almost two hours, but he was hardly recuperated after dicing with death multiple times today.
“Ash?” asked Ivy, staring out into the open. “Where are you?”
He tapped his foot on the ground. She looked in his direction.
“We don’t have a car anymore, do we?” she asked, and when Ash gave no reply she added. “I think we ought to ask to stay the night.”
Right on cue, a voice echoed down the hallway.
“All taken care of,” called Magenta. “I’ve made up a room for you both.”
Cupping her hands over her mouth, Ivy gave a reply,
“Thanks heaps.”
Ash was astounded by the stranger’s generosity. Although he would have to treat Magenta as an enemy given her nationality, Ash couldn’t deny he’d already warmed to her.
He then slid to the end of the sofa and found his backpack by his feet. He unzipped it and inspected the contents. Ash rifled through trying to find the papers he’d stolen from the Scythe Syndicate late last night, but in a panic, he’d left the documents in the abandoned Skye-Car. Ash shook his head, angrily. He’d never given himself a moment to review the papers, and now he’d lost something that could’ve been of value.
To make matters worse, supplies were severely limited. Out on their own they would only last a day – at most. Fortunately, Magenta was more than accommodating to their needs.
“I’ll have supper on the table within twenty minutes,” said Magenta, peering out from the kitchen. “I’ve made a kumquat casserole – and trust me – it tastes better than it sounds.”
Ash took the opportunity to charge up his Skye-Scroll tablet. It was back to nearly one hundred percent in the space of ten minutes. He then unplugged the device and opened up the text to audio conversion app. He typed a message for Ivy.
“How are you feeling?”
She looked in his direction again.
“I feel as though I’ve been hit by a bus, but yeah, I’ll be OK.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just promise me we’ll stick together,” she said, lowering her voice. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Hook, line and sinker.
“You have my word, Ivy.”
Just then, Magenta popped her head out from the kitchen, grinning.
“Dinner is served,” she chimed. “Feel free to join me at the table, or you can just grab a plate – wherever you feel most comfortable.”
Ash stood from the sofa. Ivy did likewise. He took her by the hand and led her into the dining room. Magenta had set the table, complete with napkins and a lone candle melting in the middle.
“I, ah, don’t entertain much,” she explained, “so I hope this makes the grade.”
Ash forced a smile, as if trying to tell her the gesture was appreciated.
“Take a seat, if you like,” said Magenta, pulling out her own chair.
Ash then guided Ivy to the chair beside him and then sat down next to her. Ivy rested a hand on top of his, just to make sure he was still there.
“So, you’re a couple?” asked Magenta, and without even waiting for a reply she added, “That’s nice. How long have you been together?”
Ash went to grab his tablet from his pocket, but Ivy beat him to the reply.
“I guess we’re together, but this is still pretty recent.”
“Oh, lovely. Where did you meet?”
“It’s complicated.”
Magenta’s brows furrowed. Ash whipped out his Skye-Scroll tablet and tried to explain her comment.
“We were both left displaced by the war, but we found each other in the chaos.”
Magenta’s eyes opened wide with joy, as if she were a child eyeing a brand-new toy.
“Hey, that’s a cool thingamajig,” exclaimed Magenta, pointing at the tablet. “Is that what you use to communicate? That’s a handy gadget.”
“You don’t own Skye devices?” asked Ivy.
“Ah, no,” she replied, with a shrug of the shoulders. “But anyhow, let’s get eating, shall we? I hope it tastes alright...”
Ash served up a plate of casserole to Ivy, then one to Magenta before tucking in himself. They ate. No one spoke for a long time.
It was definitely the first decent feed they’d had in weeks.
“This is friggin’ delicious,” said Ivy, shovelling in another mouthful.
“Thanks,” replied Magenta. “The secret ingredient is a mashed spud.”
Just before Ash served up his second serve, he shared his gratitude,
“Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Magenta. It is much appreciated.”
“Don’t mention it,” replied Magenta, waving him off. “It’s all good.”
When they were finished, Ash collected the plates and attempted to clear the table but Magenta was quick to take over.
“Please, sit. I’ve got apple strudel for dessert.”
Although he’d already filled up on dinner, Ash just couldn’t say no to something sweet. He plonked himself back in his chair next to Ivy. Magenta was quick to serve up the final course, but this time they ate at a more leisurely pace.
“So, do you live by yourself or do you have a partner?” asked Ivy.
Magenta placed down her fork and folded her hands together.
“My husband, Robert, died of a heart attack nine years ago. I’ve never been interested in remarrying. It’s just Gizzy and I here, but that’s more than enough.”
“Oh, sorry to hear about your husband. Do you ever get lonely?”
“No,” replied Magenta, with a small smile. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t trust most people, so I much prefer to keep to myself anyway.”
The comment came as a surprise. To both of them.
“And why don’t you trust most people?” asked Ivy.
“Well…let’s just say I’ve seen some terrible things in my days. Humans can be so hate-filled, destructive and violent. It’s made me quite the sceptic I’m afraid, so I choose to live my life in peace.”
Ivy pulled a face, but did not dispute it. Ash, however, felt the need to.
“Not all people are bad though.”
“That’s very true,” said Magenta, nodding. “There are good and bad people all around us, but how do you pick the kind from the wicked?”
Ivy had an answer for her.
“That’s easy; the Pommy bastards are the wicked ones.”
“I have to disagree with you there,” replied Magenta, humbly. “Evil has no nationality, no race, no religion, no age and no gender. It’s evil people that do evil things.”
Ivy pressed her lips into a thin line, shifting in her seat.
“Well, what about us?” asked Ivy, opening her palms. “You obviously don’t think we’re evil, right? You let us into your home, served us dinner and invited us to stay – I get the impression you trust us.”
“I saw two tired and hurt souls at my doorstep,” said Magenta lowering her voice. “What kind of heartless person would I be if I turned you away?”
Ivy didn’t answer the question. The silence lingered. Ash typed a message into his tablet as an attempt to soften the conversation.
“Ivy and I are very grateful for everything you have done. You helped us in our hour of need. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Magenta leaning back in her chair. “Any other decent human being would’ve done the same.”
Ash wanted to add that he and Ivy were good people, but when he considered the blood they had spilled today, Ash knew he’d be fabricating the truth.
He could argue the crimes he’d committed were for the greater good, but through the eyes of another it would always be subjective. For his own sanity, Ash would justify the lives he had taken as a necessary evil – but many more would never see it that way.
In time, Ash would seek redemption.
Someday, he hoped the good would outweigh all the evil things he had done.
After a few more bites of strudel, Ash continued to keep the conversation flowing.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Pretty much all my life. I grew up in Broken Hill, so I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Do you have indigenous heritage?”
“Yes, and I know indigenous seems to be the politically correct term to use these days, but I prefer to be called Aboriginal,” she replied. “And you? Where are you from?”
“Sydney, originally.”
“What about your girl?” asked Magenta, nodding across the table.
Ivy didn’t realise the question was directed to her. Ash gave her a nudge with his elbow.
“Huh? What about me?”
“What’s your background?” asked Magenta, squinting her eyes. “You’ve definitely got some native blood in you.”
“I’m mixed race,” replied Ivy.
“You look familiar to me as well, but I’m not sure why...”
Ash was quick to redirect the conversation before Magenta could dwell on it.
“Do you work?”
“Me? Not anymore. Rob and I used to run a popular sustainability website. We sold self-help guides via the internet giving hints and tips to other people wanting to go green. When he died, I kept things running, but when The Shutdown happened, well, it effectively put me out of work.”
“The Shutdown put a lot of people out of work,” agreed Ivy, polishing off her plate. “So, what do you do now?”
“I live, I guess.”
“How do you mean? You don’t have an income?”
“I still get the occasional cheque from publication royalties, but no, I have too many other things to do than work these days.”
“Such as?”
“I run a farm. Have you seen the land I have out the back? It usually keeps me pretty busy,” she replied, “But when I do get some free time I like to read, paint or write. I like going for walks too.”
“I think I’d go stir-crazy,” said Ivy. “I mean, how do you survive out here?”
“I’m completely self-sufficient,” replied Magenta, with a sense of pride. “I’m totally off the grid, with my own water, solar electricity and renewable food sources.”
Ivy raised her eyebrows. Her scepticism was seeping through.
“I always thought the dirt out this way was too dry to grow crops,” said Ivy.
“My soil is imported,” explained Magenta. “Rob and I set up three greenhouses out the back about twelve years ago. Everything is grown in there.”
“Do you always have enough to eat?”
“Oh yeah, more than enough,” replied Magenta. “In fact, I often send out boxes of food to the Help the Homeless organisations around the country. I grow everything from fruits to vegetables to grains. Also, most of my products are fortified with Calcium, B12, Iron and Zinc as well, so I’m always getting the right kind of nutrients in my diet.”
Ash nodded, impressed. Ivy was still struggling to believe it though.
“So, you never leave the farm?” she asked.
“Very rarely. I ride my bike to Broken Hill sometimes, but that’s only if I need to visit a doctor or something. But by the sounds of things, I don’t think I’ll be going into town anytime soon.”
Ash finished the last few bites of his dessert and pushed his plate away. Magenta then collected the dishes before asking,
“Can I get either of you anything else to drink?”
“This is probably a long shot – but do you happen to have beers?” asked Ivy. “I could really go for a cold one.”
“No, but I have wine,” replied Magenta. “I’m not a big drinker, but Rob and I used to make our own wines. However, the cellar hasn’t been touched in years now. I reckon I’ve still got about thirty bottles down there though.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll have a glass,” said Ivy, smiling.
“Sure, but I have to warn you – these wines are really old, and technically illegal by today’s standards.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, just over twenty years ago they changed the laws and now every drink must have an ultra-low alcohol content and be no more than zero-point-two standard drinks in every glass,” began Magenta, “But I made my wines differently back then. They’ve all got quite high alcohol percentages, at least fifteen percent.”
Ivy’s eyes lit up.
“Then what are we waiting for?” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get pouring, shall we?”
Magenta nodded and finished collecting the rest of the cutlery. She excused herself and left the room, leaving Ivy and Ash at the dining table alone. Ivy began rambling off on a tangent of her near-drunk experiences, but he just couldn’t relate.
“I’ve been drunk once before,” boasted Ivy. “I had forty-two shots at a friend’s eighteenth birthday party. My head was spinning and everything – it was great.”
Ash had never experienced the sensation of being drunk. He swore in his younger years he’d felt tipsy on some occasions, but that had been the extent of it. Full-strength alcoholic beverages had become prohibited long before he’d ever started drinking, and aside from the odd bottle sold on the black market, high alcohol content drinks were extraordinarily rare.
A few minutes later, Magenta returned with two bottles of unlabelled wine. She pulled out the cork of one – which had started to disintegrate – and began pouring the burgundy liquid into three glasses.
“This is a shiraz,” said Magenta, after pouring. “One of my personal favourites.”
She then distributed the glasses across the table. Ash smiled and took a wine glass, taking a quick whiff. Before he could take a sip, Ivy stood from her seat.
“How about a toast to life,” she said, raising her glass. “Cheers to the fact that each of us are still alive tonight.”
She then held out her wine glass across the table. Magenta and Ash clinked it with theirs and then took a sip. The second the bitter liquid touched his tongue, Ash pulled a face. Magenta laughed. Ivy, however, seemed to enjoy it.
Although the wine wasn’t quite to his taste, Ash didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to drink something so rare. He and Ivy finished their first glass within twenty minutes. Magenta topped them up.
“I’ll only have the one glass,” she said. “But feel free to have the rest – just be careful though, the effects can be a bit full on if you’re not used to it.”
Before long, Ash felt a warm sensation run down his body, pooling in his feet.
His legs became heavy, almost like dead-weights, dragging him down like anchors into the depths of the ocean. He liked the feeling.
“Well, we’ve been spoiled,” said Ivy, drearily. “This is damn good. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like it, but I’m going to call it a night now,” said Magenta, rising from her seat. “Whenever you’re ready, you’ll find your room down the hall, second door on the left. Just give me a hoy if you need anything else. Goodnight.”
Once she was gone, Ash and Ivy finished off their second glass in minutes, followed by the bottle. His head felt wonderfully light, and he didn’t even mind that the walls were spinning.
After only a moment of deliberation, Ash opened the second bottle. It tasted a little different to the first, but he enjoyed it even more. They drank, talking nonsense for at least another hour.
“Shall we turn in too?” slurred Ivy, trying to keep her head straight.
Ash clasped the bottle’s neck in one hand, and took Ivy in the other. They staggered down the hall and into their room. Ivy giggled childishly as she starfished her body across the bed. Ash took another swig from the bottle and then climbed aboard.
She reached out to him, placing her hands on his face and then brought his lips to hers. His head was swimming.
When she pulled back, she laughed freely. For no reason at all.
“Hey, you’re amazing,” she uttered, running a hand down his shoulder.
Ash no longer had the capacity to type her a message, so instead he rested a hand upon her chest. She held it there. Just above her heart.
“Maybe it’s just the wine talking, but I feel something for you. Like, more than I’ve felt for anybody in such a long time.”
He felt something jitter inside his chest.
“You’ve seen the best and the worst of me, Ash. So even when all this shit is over, I just can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
He almost sobered up right then and there.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve never told anyone I love them,” confessed Ivy, “but I’m tempted to say it to you.”
He jerked upright, breaking her grip, breathing hard. Eyeing the almost empty bottle, Ash picked it up and knocked back the rest of it.
She sat upright alongside him.
“Did I freak you out?” asked Ivy. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
It had always been his plan to soften her up, but it had worked a little too well. Ash was adamant that he would hand her over to his army, but he could also see he had done more than deceive her. He was also on the verge of breaking her heart.
Fighting through his apprehension, Ash saw another golden opportunity to pull information out of her. He cupped a hand on the side of Ivy’s face, and then he leaned in to kiss her. She kissed him back. Harder.
Patting his pockets down, Ash located his tablet and keyed in a message. It took him a lot longer to put the words together in his intoxicated state.
“Do you think you’ll ever go back to the air force?”
The question threw her off guard.
“Shit, I don’t know,” she replied. “It was my sole purpose in life a couple of months ago, but now I doubt I’d even be welcomed back.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
Ash delicately composed his next message,
“I have always wanted to know; do the nuclear weapons truly exist?”
She laughed at that one.
“Yeah, of course they do,” she replied. “I mean, I still doubt that’s the reason why the British invaded us, but I don’t doubt its existence.”
“Did they ever tell you where they were hidden?”
“I heard whispers,” she began, drawing out the words. “It was hinted to us a long time ago that we had them hidden amongst the islands in the Whitsundays, but then later we moved all the weapons to a safer place.”
It hadn’t even occurred to Ash during his time in the Whitsundays, but it did explain why the British had picked that particular location in the Coral Sea.
Evidently, his army hadn’t found anything – but maybe Ivy knew.
“Where did they move the weapons?”
“Hidden in a bunker, somewhere in a closed down uranium mine, as I last heard,” she replied, with a giggle. “Those Pommy bastards will never find them though.”
Just like that, Ivy had let her guard down and had leaked critically important information to him. Maybe Ash never had to bond with Ivy after all – he only needed to get her drunk. He placed down his tablet, revelling in his achieved objective, but Ivy was still after his affection.
She flung her arms around his torso and began trying to undress him, but she passed out even before she could take off his belt.