Wiley pulled himself out of his bleak thought pattern and looked to where Bruce was pointing.
Now he understood the presence of those fighter jets.
* * *
Darkness was advancing fast. Lightning flashed on the horizon against a dark storm cloud. Wiley stood on the beach with Bruce, watching events unfold. Some distance out, a ship was on fire, its searchlights still beaming into the sky, searching out the enemy. Smoke filtered up, mixing with the dark clouds above. The noise of a sole jet fighter could be heard above the wash of the waves.
There was a dark object to Wiley’s right, out where the waves were breaking—a dolphin or other large ocean creature, perhaps.
“Bruce, look.” He pointed. The creature caught a breaking wave and rode it close to shore, then tried to stand up. After a few attempts the creature found its balance and headed towards the beach, dragging what looked like a small raft. It was a pilot.
Wiley and Bruce rushed over to assist.
“You okay, mate?” Bruce asked.
The pilot let go of his raft and caught his breath. “Best ocean in the world to end up in. It’s warm.” He rubbed his shoulders and moved them from side to side. “There’ll be some bruising there, but nothing is broken. Lucky. We don’t look forward to ejecting.” He headed up towards the sand and sat down.
Others had now gathered around.
“Anyone got any water?” the pilot asked.
A woman handed him a drink bottle.
“What’s going on out there?” a man asked.
The pilot looked up and then out towards the sinking ship.
“It looks like our country is under attack. That ship launched a missile into the heart of the city. We thought the ship was friendly, here for the war games exercise. But with whatever is happening out there in the world, for some reason they turned and attacked.”
A few gasps. “But how?” a woman asked in a concerned tone.
“There were some war games—military exercise—going on before Adventus did whatever it did. It’s chaos out there. I’m sure whatever happened to my plane is related. I don’t know why the ship fired its missiles. Artificial intelligence technology has probably kicked in.” He took a sip from the bottle. “Other cruise missiles from other ships have hit our major cities. And they’re all nuclear.” He took a deep breath. “We were just following up on our strike. We got the ship, but too late.”
Whop, whop, whop.
They all looked up. A helicopter flew towards them.
“That’s for me. Just need to signal them.” He pulled something out of a container and indicated for the people to move. “I’m setting off a smoke flare so they can locate me.” He ignited the flare as the helicopter passed over. A person leaning out from the helicopter cabin waved to confirm sighting.
The helicopter headed out over the water, then turned and headed back towards them. It landed on the beach, and a soldier jumped from the open cabin and headed towards them. The pilot stood and looked at them. Wiley sensed sadness.
“I would suggest you people grab your families and head inland. Not sure how far the fallout will go.”
The pilot turned and headed towards his rescuer, then turned back.
“Thanks for all your help.” He paused and looked at them. The helicopter’s floodlights revealed tight and worried eyes. “Go south, but inland. The enemy will come north via the ocean. They’ll be coming for the food.”
50 - The trip north
In the darkness, Wiley studied the trees blanketing the side of the roads with their night-time shadows. They took on many forms. When the dark forests gave way to the empty paddocks, there were only a few remnants of the once-great forest, their large skeleton remains sparsely spread across the paddocks.
Wiley’s head rested against the window. Gentle vibrations from the vehicle tangled with the scenes he witnessed as they made their way out of Noosa. Most of the churches were on fire. The shire building was ablaze. The controlled panic from earlier in the day was gone. People were now bursting out of shops with whatever they could get their hands on.
“You okay, Wiley?” Bruce asked, hands on the steering wheel and staring ahead.
Wiley moved his head away from the window and straightened in his seat.
“Sort of. A lot to take in. I’m weary from the day. I’m getting nagging thoughts that I should be panicking like the rest of society, but I’m just at the point where I don’t care.”
Wiley knew they were heading north—at least, that’s what he believed the sign they’d just passed said. He was struggling with reading. Letters looked like blobs of black ink. It was the stress. It must be. He’d heard that stress could affect vision. Something to do with high levels of adrenaline. His body would be flooded, as he was still in fight-or-flight mode. Probably more flight than fight. Anyway, he didn’t need the sign. They were on the Bruce Highway heading towards Gympie. Gympie was north. The pilot told them to go south, but at this point it didn’t matter. Any invaders were a long time coming.
“I know how you feel. But I have a little surprise in store.”
Wiley couldn’t muster any enthusiasm but tried to instill some light humour. “Just realised the highway is named after you.” A lame attempt. “What’s the surprise?”
A small smile appeared on Bruce’s face. “There was a man in church who believed times of tribulation were near, and he planned for it. He showed me pictures of his garage recently, bragging. It was like a supermarket. He lives near here. I thought we’d drop by, see if we could get some supplies, and work out a strategy. I’m sure he’ll have a plan.”
As with most things post-Adventus, Wiley didn’t have a good feeling about this. He looked at the back seat and the collection of their belongings, gathered in a rush before they made their quick exit from Bruce’s place. The pistol lay on the floor. It served its purpose for their getaway. No one got hurt, but people paid attention and got out of their way.
Wiley rested his head against the window again, looking for the sparsely spaced trees in the vacant paddocks. They offered him some kind of reassurance—of what, he didn’t know. The blinking and sound of the car’s indicator brought him out of his self-pity.
The car lights lit up a sign, displaying the name of the road. The words were still a blur. After a short distance, the lights caught another road sign. Blurred. Curiosity got the best of him. “What’s the name of this road?”
“Uhh … oh … I missed the sign. I can’t read at the moment. Everything is blurry.”
There was something unusual about them both not being able to read. Were they both affected by stress? It could be possible but didn’t sit right. Someone told him once people can’t read in dreams. If so, he was in a vivid dream state. He couldn’t be bothered analysing any further.
“It’s Hades Road. I remember his address.”
