Wyatt Earp: and the Boomerang Refugium Read online

  Julie eyed him carefully and said, “And what kind of work do you do Ray?”

  “Normal everyday work within cycling distance of home. I choose physical work over office work to keep fit.” He further outlined briefly his background in the Northern Rivers area, his martial arts/self-defence speciality and that he was presently a part-time associate with the TaSMAN group. He followed with an outline of where he had trained at various locations, including the US, UK and China, and where he had worked.

  The chemistry between them was one of uncertainty, if not antagonistic. After all, she had studied at University – a seemingly superior education in her mind, yet as her father well knew, one with limitations. Ray went on to further explain, in eloquent English, Americanised for her benefit, the extent of the TaSMAN offer. And the sincher – he stood up, turned toward me and said, “Uncle Jack, I understand she is technically a client, but the world is full of people, if only temporarily. I believe we can accommodate two more in our compound, but unwilling participants would likely place un-needed burdens on our survival.” He then turned to talk to Julie and Carol. “Julie, Carol, my uncle and I are survivors and perfectly trained to do so. If you need time to think about this, time is short if the power blackout continues. As time progresses our ability to guarantee safe transport to our haven diminishes, and puts us at risk. Also, like an airline, we have limitations on what you can bring –size, volume and weight, and a cut-off time … a few moments pause… which is no later than this time tomorrow. More silence. Your safest option is to leave with us in five minutes. If power resumes, we will happily arrange transport back to your motel here, to the airport or wherever you wish. I wish you both well whatever decision you make.” Ray then proceeded to walk to the door, turned sideways and stopped. At this stage Carol, hurriedly but quietly talked to Julie.

  Julie turned to me and asked, “But how would we travel to your home, or compound as you refer to it?”

  Ray, with stern but stoic voice continued, “Madam, the offer is not conditional on mode of transport, but to answer your question we have four-wheel transport for both of you.”

  She sneeringly asked how this can be, while Ray and I remained quiet and started for the door. Two steps toward the door and Carol piped up.

  “Julie, may I speak out loud?” Without waiting for a reply she continued, “If what Mr Sunn and his nephew Ray say is possibly correct, then we could be seen to be two of the silliest and most pedantic people ever if we do not trust them and walk out right now. Is there a risk? Yes, there always is, that is life, and I think we have a better chance of living if we accept their offer.”

  I then said to Julie, “Julie, I spoke with your father two days ago, before he left for Townsville. What you may not know is the depth of the service we are able to provide our clients. We have a widespread network of members, one of whom lives in Townsville. Whilst in Townsville your father would have been staying at the Townsville Holiday Inn, which is about 3.5km distance from our representative there. If what we are experiencing here has also happened there, then your father is already with our associate or being escorted there as we speak. Did it surprise you to be staying at Sunnybank rather than at a five-star inner city motel? No doubt you questioned your father about this. In short, we are often most vulnerable when we travel. Your father did not choose to stay here in Sunnybank. Rather we, the TaSMAN group, supply recommendations to all our clients. TaSMAN is short for training and security management. Your father, being a busy man, has to our knowledge, largely relied on us for most of his travel arrangements in Australia and elsewhere over the past few years.”

  Julie then spoke, “Mr Sunn, thank-you. And you also Ray. Please accept my apology for being a little hesitant and somewhat unpleasant. Your offer is most kind and gracious, and I wish to accept. And thank-you for sharing with me your dealings with my father. I feel a little more at ease now knowing he is likely in safe hands. Carol, grab your bags, we are off on another adventure thanks to these kind gentlemen.”

  Six minutes later we were joined downstairs by Julie and Carol. We took their bags and walked to the parking lot around the corner. At which stage Julie burst out laughing, immediately followed by Carol, Ray and myself.

  “Ladies, our transportation awaits. Two tandem push bikes with two wheel trailers. Cheap, reliable and fitted with stealth capability.”

  ----------

  Mid-afternoon several hours after the power blackout. Buck and Vince had been living in Sunnybank most of their lives and live six houses apart. Both have families and work locally. Buck works the loading dock at a local supermarket while Vince works at the local Boating Camping and Fishing (BCF) store. Both had planned to go camping and fishing together after finishing their mid-day shifts. They did not do it often, but Buck and Vince had been fishing together since sharing school days together. Both their wives were happy for them to go, but not when it was a long weekend and with the children at home for four days.

  Buck said to his wife “Mary, did you get ice this morning?”

  “No.”

  “Does Vince have any?”

  “Go and ask him.”

  Buck said to himself – well this is working out well isn’t it. Easter time stuff-ups. He gathered up their daughter Tess and together they walked over to Vince’s place to find Vince with a stubbie in hand, trailer packed, and the car CD player playing AC-DC.

  Vince said, “What’s happening Buck?” whilst passing him a cold one. “Don’t think we are going anywhere. Power’s out and the freezer is near full. The missus doesn’t like the idea of us being away with no power here. Too much food to spoil and rot. And the weather is crap.”

  They both sat back listening to ‘Back in Black’ and said nothing for a while.

  Buck was next to speak, “I got the gas cylinders exchanged yesterday. You want to bring some ice, the family, and come up the road for a barb? We have plenty of food, but no extra ice.”

  “Sure man. Let’s have another first, then I’ll round up the tribe, and let mum know what we’re doing. Not what we planned, but seeing how things are, might keep everyone happy.”

  Zelda, Vince’s wife walked past. “Hi Buck, how you goin?”

  “Good thanks mate. Want to come up for a barbie later? I’m sure Mary won’t mind. And we can maybe keep the kids occupied. Think we might be house-bound for the weekend.”

  “Thanks Buck. Tell you what. I’ll go up and see Mary now and we can sort something out.”

  Vince then quickly said to Zelda, “Zel, got something for you darl.” He grabbed a bag near the trailer and passed it to her. “Would you be able to take this small bag of ice as well? Buck and Mary don’t have much.” Zelda looked inside, saw it was gin, smiled, and gave Vince a glancing kiss.

  Vince then said, “Leave Jimmy here. We’ll make our way up shortly.”

  “Good one Vince,” said Buck. “Mary has plenty of tonic, so we should be out of the shit by staying home.”

  Later that evening with still no electricity, Mary suggested that Buck put up the tent in the yard so the children can have an overnight camping adventure. By that time, Mary and Zelda were half a bottle of gin down and in no mood to do much else.

  “Let the boys do it. Only fitting,” said Mary.

  Buck said “Yeah, ok.”

  “I’ll give you a hand Buck,” said Vince.

  Bundy rums down, the pair of them struggled to get up. They then both went around the back of the house to relieve themselves.

  “You know Vince, this is not too bad, but I think the girls got the better end of the deal,” said Buck.

  They returned to the family, and little Jimmy said to Vince, “Daddy, I need to go to the toilet.”

  “Well go son. You know where it is.”

  “But Dad, there’s a poo in it. And the flush no work.”

  “Ok son. Hold on.” He got a bucket and went to the small garden tank and half-filled it. He then went inside with Jimmy and flushed the toilet and Jimmy was then h
appy.

  Vince and Buck resumed with their rums. Almost in unison they sighed. They looked at each other and Buck said, “Bugger, no power means no water. What next? At least we have about 2000 litres in the garden tank. A bit like camping for all of us then. No fish to catch though.”

  Zelda and Mary both made arm and hand gestures to them as if playing miniature violins, then smiled.

  Mary said, “Lets finish our drinks and I’ll get the sleeping bags. We’ll get the children settled and work out what to do next over another sip or two.” Vince and Buck nodded in approval and all decided to stay in the one house for the night.

  ----------

  I arranged with Ray’s help during the late afternoon to make it look like our house had been abandoned and securely locked up. The windows were closed with steel roller shield blinds, the door was padlocked, and the mail box was filled with junk mail, even some older looking faked ‘real mail’. It was now time to wait.

  During the previous three years, I had arranged to have many modifications done to our home that previously was an industrial showroom constructed from concrete tilt slabs. When I originally bought it, it was almost bare so it was an easy task to rebuild from the inside.

  The front part of the building housed what could have been an entry to a showroom. Currently it contained an old laminex-topped table, several upturned plastic chairs and assorted debris as commonly found in leased shop fronts in need of a tenant or refurbishment. A few old magazines and drink cans completed the décor.

  First installed in the main part of the building was Arab style ventilation by constructing a tapering tower over the main roof. Adjoining the main building was a walled in area resembling another industrial tilt slab building but with no roof or windows. That is exactly what it was, but far from unfinished and abandoned. During the three years we had installed raised and therefore free-draining garden beds for fruit, vegetable, herb and spice growing. The height of the walls would normally cast too much shade for profitable gardening, but being rectangular and oriented almost exactly east-west meant summer production was certain. In winter, extra light was reflected from a purpose built rotatable iron roof on the south wall. Not perfect, but certainly functional. Best of all, rodents, snakes and bandicoots were denied access. The only pests were birds and insects, and both were to a certain extent controllable.

  In addition to the food garden an arrangement of large water pots was positioned for aesthetic effect and contained water lilies and lotuses. The lotus had even flowered the previous summer. Large water pots that had been stock waterers accommodated water chestnuts, taro and kan kong (water spinach) and an assortment of freshwater marsh herbs for use in the kitchen.

  Perhaps the most important aspect afforded by this private oasis was a paved area with seating and an outdoor kitchen. This area was surrounded by colourful ornamentals, most visually noticeable being parrot beak heliconias, beehive gingers and angel’s trumpets. The latter, along with Cestrum nocturnum, provided in the evening layers of heaven sent fragrance when in flower. With the walls being made of reinforced concrete 12 m high, the garden took on a surreal ‘fantastic’ feel to it, rarely seen or experienced outside of walled botanic gardens, such as found in Hamilton, New Zealand, among others. But with only private access, its contents were delightfully unknown to the outside world.

  At the rear of the property, an area that was once wasteland, was a flattish expanse adjacent a steeply rising hillside. Minor excavations had been made to house three shipping containers which were themselves disguised by a huge shade house structure. The frame was reinforced to hold a thick vegetative cover of bromeliads and succulents, primarily species of Aloe and selected hybrids. The containers were connected to the house by huge concrete pipes. The inside of the main building was naturally noise dampened because of the thick concrete, and in addition to the usual bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen and living areas, it housed a refrigerated cold room. The cold room was cooled by electricity driven refrigeration, but was also optionally cooled by a weight driven compressor. A block and tackle was available to lift the weight which would then through gravity, power the cooling compressor for twelve hours.

  Tick Box 4. Wait and watch carefully. If indeed the power was permanently off – there was no way to check since the radio, television, computers and telephones were not working – the chaos of society was about to go into overdrive.

  CHAPTER 4

  Yesterday, 23 years previous, and the reunion. Jack is my name, Jack Sunn. I stand here in Brisbane, Australia, at 175cm height, 64kg weight, with eyes that have certainly been a lot duller in my past life. Clothes maketh the man some say. They can also disguise the extraordinary to not look outstanding. Extraordinary I am not, yet any virtues I currently have are well blended with what appears to be a slightly scruffy fellow minding his own business. Appearance, nearly forty years of age, greying hair not professionally cut but neat. Clothes not stylish, more casual workman-like, drill pants not jeans. Shoes – white Dunlop Volleys – you get the picture.

  What follows is my story, and in part Jill’s story. That’s right, Jack and Jill, but not a fairy tale.

  I first met Jill briefly whilst I was in grade 12 in an ordinary suburban secondary school. It was my fifth year there with four months remaining before graduating with a year 12 certificate. I had gone to primary school close by and so I knew almost all the current students from early days. I thought my career was set. Graduate year 12 and go straight into the Police Academy while studying psychology and counselling. And there was Jill, an overweight gawky short haired girl – a chick definitely not –a blow-in from some overseas school for the remaining months of term. We knew little about her, and try as best we could, we teased her incessantly. How could such an interloper be one of us my mates and I thought. Not an age to be compassionate and thoughtful. Jill moved on at the end of the year, leaving behind only an entry in the school’s attendance record, and some above average grades – was that why we tormented her? Teenage boys!

  Inevitably, I thought no more of her for years to come. I joined the Police Academy, graduated, and joined the Queensland Police Force.

  You might think the Police force is for the healthy. Well it is when you join, but distractions collectively take their toll. Study in psychology greatly reduced my active hours while beer gardens and parties took the rest. Well, did we not all do the same? Is it not surprising how blinkered we become and take on the values, aspirations if any, as well as explanations and excuses of the ones we most associate with? That said my 20-year-old 65 kg weight morphed into a 30-year-old 105kg weight. A fat copper some may say. Time moved on, mates were transferred to other postings. Some married and started families. Life was pleasant, parties became fewer and the hair began greying. Health checks became more frequent, as were sick days off work. As John Lennon succinctly intimated: Life is what you are doing whilst planning other things. Was I planning anything? Should we forgo the present whilst waiting – sometimes for years – for a planned promised age? Interestingly many a person’s life is punctuated by stand-out events – the outcomes of which could not be planned or even expected beforehand. Taleb’s Black Swans came to mind. Chance encounters and accidents, windfalls and tragedies affect us all and provide opportunities for us to choose how we will continue our lives. Do we say no and avoid change knowing we are safe and secure in our continuing existence, or do we seize the chance and change our lives and take the consequences for better or worse?

  It was in my 30th year that the first major pivot-point in my adult life chanced along. It came by way of an invitation. The invitation was for a year 12 school reunion. Thirteen years on when most of us will be 30 years old. Made sense I suppose. Venue - a pub close to the old school. Time - 7.30 pm. Good chance to re-live the past, revisit ambitions and be a sticky-beak to see into other people’s lives. Besides, by 7.30 pm I am hungry, tired and thirsty. Especially the latter.

  On the day 7.30 arrived and the venue was already crowded.
I recognised some, but thankfully name tags were supplied to all. Children were also present, even some as old as 13. Life’s aspirations interrupted or at least altered by pregnancy. Single mothers were also there.

  At school our years 11 and 12 had nearly 80 students. Clean and trim never-muck-up goody-two-shoers had become working class. Others – the non-personality grey obscure ones had become successful in law and dentistry and the like, and a whole bunch of us were just getting by. A small minority had dropped out and looked like past-use-by-date druggies. And yet an even smaller number, three to be exact, wore jackets from known motor cycle gangs and had the characteristic odour of a sleazy beer garden and dirty grease. With a well-stocked wet bar and slow food service, 8.30 came and plenty of us were approaching the legal blood alcohol limit for driving. Bikies 1, 2 and 3 - Alf, Mick and Sledge. Great combination in this mixed group. Did we really all go to school together 13 years previously? Must have to have got an invitation.

  The Pareto 80:20 principle was something we had heard about in some obscure social studies class – correction, ‘People in the environment class.’ Why do we have to change perfectly good names? In the current ‘People in the Environment’ year 13 reunion, 80:20 was more like 90:10. Nuclear families, teachers and lawyers made up 90%. Yet it appeared that 90% of the alcohol consumption and noise generation was from less than 10% led by Sledge and his newly re-acquainted weedy looking alleged druggie mates. By 9 o’clock food had begun arriving, as had the symptoms of excessive consumption of beer, bourbon and who knew what else. This was supposed to be a night off from work, and besides I did not do brawl control – more of a paperwork office type. More food arrived and things began to quieten some, until the locally hired band took over from the DJ. At about 9.15 pm Sledge, weighing in at what looked like 110 kg or more took an instant dislike to the music. In resonance with Sledge’s feelings Mick and Alf flicked bottle tops at the lead singer until at 9.25 pm off flew a stubby or two. When shit happens, it wastes little time on pleasantries. Sledge, Alf and Mick were supported by three others in blatant band sabotage. The lead singer copped a stubby fair in the ear and shrieked, followed by Sledge and company roaring with delight. The band instantly stopped. Not wanting the entertainment to stop, Sledge broke a stubby holding it by the neck, and with Alf holding a drawn blade they advanced over tables to the stage. First things first I started dialling for police support, since no security staff were employed for the party. But before punching in the third digit a rather svelte young lady with pleated long dark hair, dark slacks and a red and black jacket appeared on stage between the band and Sledge and company. Sledge tried pushing her away, only to be pulled to the ground faster than I can sneeze, and received a concussive blow to his right bicep and to the centre forehead, dropping instantaneously unconscious. Alf’s anger peaked and after slashing the skin of one of the band’s drums, went after the long dark slacks and slashed widely and viscously. But to no good, he went down with a near broken elbow and with his own knife shallowly embedded in his left thigh. Before hitting the ground a well-placed foot smashed into his right thigh. Pain followed by lights out for Alf. The violence stopped and the young lady made to leave. I intended to apprehend her but a cacophony of confusion, panic and scampering children created a near impenetrable people crush. The lady saw me and put what appeared to be a business card in an empty wine glass beside the door, then disappeared outside. I made my way to the door and I retrieved the card. The card read: Jill DD, with a contact number below. I did not know who she was. I then made my way to the registration desk for the attendance sheet. Jill, Jill ... can’t be surely. There is only one. Was it possible she was the Jill from last term in Grade 12?