“One cool dude.” Cath had a smirk on her face.
The ground rumbled, and Jack’s heart rate increased. He looked at Cath and the tree. Should they flee? Cath looked peaceful. She gave him a smile and nodded towards the road. A large army truck thundered past. Had she seen it coming?
“Stay cool, Jack.”
“See ya.” Their leathery friend walked past with a lovely fish and chip smell leaking from his order. Jack licked his lips. Boy, was he hungry. Fish and chips always tasted better at the seaside. Something to do with the salt in the air, he was told.
Another man passed their leathery friend and paused in front of Jack and Cath. “Cath?”
Cath gave a nervous smile. She obviously didn’t recognise this man.
“Walter Melon.” He rubbed his beard. “Sorry. Keep forgetting people aren’t use to the beard.”
Cath laughed. A look of recognition. “Watermelon Man?”
He blushed. “Thanks, Cath. Haven’t been called that for a while.”
She turned to Jack. “I did police academy with this man, then we went our separate ways.”
Watermelon Man was tall with a small scar below his left eye. He wore a hi-visibility vest and dark blue work cargo pants. Must be involved with some of the recovery work going on. Jack stood up.
“Jack Kinnaird. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, Jack.” They shook hands. “You two here on pleasure or earthquake business?”
“Police business, Walt,” Cath said. “You still in the force?”
“Nope. Got out a couple of years ago. My last stint was with POLAIR. I got the air technology bug, and I’m now working as an aerodynamics consultant.”
“I seem to recall a background in aviation,” Cath said. “Sounds like you found your niche.”
“Yep, and it’s a great lifestyle here. More time with family and friends. Weekends free.” Some trigger went off in his head. “I seem to remember you were a churchgoer. Is that still the case?”
That was a strange topic to bring up, but weekend work did impact the churchgoers. Cath’s eyebrows moved upward a notch. She nodded.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m a churchgoer now.”
Lights flashed in the background. Walter turned towards a vehicle and waved. “Phone ordered. I’ve got to get the food. A few hungry workers in the car.” He took his wallet from his pocket, pulled out a business card, and handed it to Cath. “Would love to catch up sometime. You here for long?”
A horn tooted. They were a hungry lot.
“Back to the city tomorrow.” Cath handed him her business card. “But planning to come back soon. Let’s keep in touch.”
“Love to.” Walter turned and headed into the café. A minute later, he was back with his order, said his goodbyes, and was gone.
“Ninety-eight,” the server called.
“That’s us,” Cath said, and headed to the pickup window.
Jack’s thoughts turned to food. After collecting their order, they wandered over to a picnic bench near the river.
“What does an aerodynamics consultant do in a seaside holiday destination?” Jack asked no one in particular as he took a bite of his piece of fish. His taste buds thanked him.
“It’s to do with the way things move through the air.”
A red light blinked above the river and Jack realised it was a drone. Odd. He didn’t think they were allowed to fly those things at night, although it wasn’t dark yet—that would be the drone pilot’s excuse. Jack scanned the sky for other objects.
“Be good to have a chat with your friend about our friend in the sky.” As on cue, their friend in the sky appeared from behind a cloud in the evening sky.
“I’ll have a chat to Dad about it soon. I’m sure it’s getting bigger.”
Once his hunger was satisfied, the need for sleep took over. They strolled back to their accommodation and said their goodnights.
Jack couldn’t get to sleep. Too worried about aftershocks. He lay looking to the ceiling, watching the fan blades silently swirling in the shadows of the night. He thought of Sally-Anne. His chest tightened. He missed sleeping with Erica, missed the comfort of her body, missed being able to reach out and touch her. Was that what he wanted—a replacement? He got out of bed, walked over to the window, and parted the drapes. Nothing but darkness. No streetlights, no stars, no friends.
At exactly seven o’clock, he tapped on Cath’s door.
The door opened. Cath stood there in skimpy running shorts and a sweat-stained singlet, perspiration dripping from her forehead.
“It’s humid out there but it was lovely.”
“Where did you run to?”
“Along the river—about five kilometres.” She wiped her face with a towel. “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll join you for breakfast.”
“Okay. Meet me downstairs.”
Jack found a table near a window in the motel’s restaurant. The smell of sizzling bacon drifted through the restaurant. Jack knew what he was going to have for breakfast. He must get back into exercise. He’d said that a few times now.
