He waddled up to a viewing area, sat on some rocks, and took in the view while capturing his breath. There were no barriers to the cliff edges, which seemed dangerous. Should he run and jump? He looked around. A man was walking towards him with a camera strapped around his neck. He gave Wiley a quick glance and headed towards the edge. The stranger wore a dark baseball cap and sunglasses, but there was something familiar about him. He stopped at the cliff edge and took some photos.

The man finished his photo shoot and headed back to the track. He stopped in front of Wiley, took off his glasses, and bent to look closely at Wiley.

“Thomas?”

“Dad?”

29 - An awakening

Wiley and his dad sat on the large limestone rock. It was hard for Wiley, but they’d eventually embraced.

“What a coincidence, hey?” Wiley’s dad said. There was a sparkle in his eyes.

Wiley nodded. He was still battling with the emotions zapping around in his head. How many years had it been? Fifteen years or thereabouts. The man just left the family, Wiley, his mum, and younger brother. That was the start of Wiley losing his way. Strange. He hadn’t considered that before. He’d been on autopilot and never stopped to think, seriously think, about the path he’d chosen and why. But today had been a funny day. Lots of strange feelings, thoughts, and a heaviness.

“They do happen, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Coincidences. People bump into folk they haven’t seen for years and in the strangest places. Weird things happen. You know one of the strangest ones I heard was Mark Twain—he was a famous American author—who was born when Halley’s Comet appeared and died when it reappeared some seventy-six years later. He was quoted as saying, ‘I came in with Halley’s Comet and expect to go out with it.” He stopped and rubbed his hands. “I’m talking too much. Nervous, I suppose.”

A drone hovered over the cliff face. Who was the pilot? He had a quick look around. A young man and lady sitting on the grass near the cliff edge. The man had the remote controller in his hand.

“How have you been, son?”

There was a peace about his dad. Whatever grievances he had towards his dad, they were slowly melting. “Uh … I’m good today.” Wiley waved his arms out across the ocean.

“Yes, the ocean can make you feel good. I live not far from here and wander up to soak in the goodness at least once a week. Get the same good feelings every time.”

“Why did you leave?”

He watched his dad’s reaction. He knew what he meant.

“Alcohol. Simple as that. I was under bondage to the drink. It controlled my life and thinking.”

Wiley understood what his dad was saying. This newfound direction his life had decided to take today was doing strange things to him. There was a heaviness in his chest and his mind was a sea of confusion. A dryness filled his mouth. There was bottled water in his backpack. He reached for the backpack and removed a bottle. His aura glasses were underneath. He hesitated and looked up at his dad, who was taking a sip from his drink bottle. The aluminium glittered in the sun.  There was no need to bother with the glasses. His dad had found peace, and maybe even found the Lord. Strangely, that didn’t bother him.

“It was a battle but I’m free now. In fact, your mother and I have a good relationship and your brother is in regular contact. We all miss you and often speak about you. I tried to track you down a few times but it’s like you had vanished off the earth and now …”

“Yep … a coincidence.”

“A good one.” He patted Wiley on the leg. “What are you doing here?”

“Now that’s a good question.” And to think he nearly died.

* * *

Jack was at his desk, scanning the news services. Every now and then he’d look around the office space. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He returned his focus to the news posts—he was curious about the latest things on Adventus. Some things Cath told him had him thinking. Made him want to dig.

He’d skipped over the police news—too many articles with charts and figures. He wasn’t into statistics.

The news focused on dispelling the rumour Adventus was an alien spacecraft and ridiculing those who thought that way. It was an asteroid, as simple as that, and it was obvious that was the message the media wanted out there. The whole world could see Adventus. Interestingly. the news posts were all similar: it was an asteroid.

Some news feeds focused on NASA having the capacity to deal with the asteroid. Other posts had NASA presently working on the trajectory of the asteroid—hadn’t they done that already? The TV confirmed what Jack had previously been told, that the asteroid would pass by thousands and thousands of kilometres away. That brought comfort.

Some Christian posts focussed on the return of Christ, but they all appeared to be arguing with each other. The word millennium kept appearing with different prefixes. Some were talking about premillennial, some post millennial. Someone even threw in the term amillennial.

He let out a sigh. He sensed a presence.

“All too much for you?” Cath leaned on an office space partition.

“Yes, and I’m not going to ask you about all the millennium talk. It can wait for another time.”

She smiled. “You got a minute? I want to show you something.”

He stood and looked around the office. Something wasn’t right. “Something is bugging me. The office seems different. There seems to be a lot of officers in and not out. Is that it?”

“Could be. Come look.” She waved him on. “What I’m about to show you may help you clarify your feelings.”

Cath’s sheep pen, as Jack liked to call them, was across the walkway leading to the kitchen. She directed him to the chair behind hers. “Move the seat in so you can see the screen.”

The screen was covered in numbers and charts. Statistics. Cath pointed to a bar chart that resembled a city skyline with groups of bars in three different colours. The last group had only one colour.

“You know I’m into stats,” Cath said.

“You know I’m not.” Jack nodded.

“Each group is a week. The colours represent offences against the person, against property, and other offences.

“Red, amber, and green.”

“Ignore the colours, Jack. Not relevant.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Okay. Then I’m curious. What am I looking at?”

“The only stats that have come in this week have been for other offences.” Cath moved the cursor over the bars. “Some drug and traffic offences, not much more.”

“Is the computer system down or something?”

“I checked that.” Cath moved her head and raised an arm towards their office environment. “Why are there so many officers in the station?”

She had a point there. And that was what was bugging him. “Not unusual to have a quiet week.” He didn’t believe that. Something else was at play, but he had no idea what.

Cath lowered her eyebrows, drew her lower lip between her teeth and shook her head slowly. She moved closer to Jack. “It’s happening elsewhere. Every police station is having a quiet week.” She straightened up. “Here. Across Australia. Overseas.”

Neither said anything.

“I was particularly interested in one statistic. Domestic violence orders. None have been broken this week. Normally we get close to a hundred breaches a day state-wide.”