Lucas got out of the car and stretched. He took some deep breaths—rain was in the air. It helped to clear his head. He looked at his watch and realised that he needed to get back to the lab or office or whatever they called it. There was something he had to do there, but could not quite remember what. He got back in the car. It would come to him as he drove there.
As he turned the car to drive out, he noticed the white van and that the driver’s window was open. With rain coming, the window needed closing. He pulled over and walked over to the van. A pack of cigarettes lay on the passenger seat and he wondered how his cigarettes got there. He opened the door and reached over and grabbed them. A quick glance in the back of the van told him all the hi-tech equipment was turned off. Lucas locked the van and went back to his car.
As he drove, he thought of two things: his mum and the green stuff. His mum hadn’t concealed her habit very well, and Lucas had picked the habit up. It wasn’t like he had a dad to copy. In her later years, Lucas asked her why she stopped. It was the voices in her head, she told him, and the paranoia. She said to be careful because the faulty wiring may have been passed on.
Lucas ignored her. He ignored the warning.
A sign appeared. BRISBANE TECHNOLOGY PARK 100 METRES.
Lucas preferred the van—it had more room. The blue security car was a tight fit for his solid build. He knew his appearance as the rugged, thick-necked weightlifter type had helped him get his current job, a security officer for a hi-tech organisation that was part of the Department of Urban Movement. A menial job, but his mum said that was his own fault because he lacked drive and vision. She’d told him to watch out as he could become very, very lazy—that’s what this stuff could do to you. He wished he could get his mum out of his head sometimes. With those negative vibes came the need for a hit, but he could wait a little while. He had no choice.
Lucas turned into the technology park. Clean, modern buildings sat on both sides of the road, most with lights on even on a Sunday night. People must still be working. A few drops of rain hit the windscreen, but not enough to turn the wipers on yet. He turned into another street, with fewer buildings, older buildings, different shapes and sizes, less lighting. He reached his destination and turned into the Department of Urban Movement outpost’s car park.
A black cat sprinted in front of his car. The notion of bad luck popped into his head but he pushed it away. He steered the car towards the front of the building and was moving in that direction when something to the right of the building caught his attention. He stopped, grabbed the spotlight and scanned the area. Something lay in the shadow of a tree. This did not look good. He got out of the car and walked towards what looked like a body. It was. He leaned over it and searched for life signs. None. This person was dead.
Lucas needed a hit of that green stuff really bad. There was something familiar about all this.
<°)))><
Mackenzie had phoned late last night, saying they still hadn’t located Dad. Aaron asked for some time off work, and booked a flight to Brisbane.
Aaron always preferred window seats. He did the things you normally do on a plane: buckle up, observe people, and flick through the inflight magazine. It would be nice to be flying with someone, but that would come in time. As always, his thoughts went to Mackenzie. She had volunteered to pick him up from the airport. He looked forward to seeing her.
Aaron rested his head against the window. The vibration of the plane gently massaged his cheek. He stared out the window, houses and properties getting smaller, and his thoughts went to that Man who looks down on the world.
He often thought of God when flying. Maybe it was a fear thing, trying to make a connection in case the plane decided to fall out of the sky. Dad found God later in life, not long after Jack’s death. Aaron saw a change in his dad, a good change, although he didn’t fully understand it. Once he flew with Dad, and Dad told him God views our lives from on high, from beginning to end. He told Aaron that people forget that God knows everything about us, that there is nothing hidden. Aaron remembered thinking about the day he and Jack put their initials in the concrete down near the river. He still felt guilty about that.
He had a book to read but he couldn’t concentrate. Too much on his mind. He stared out the window, thinking of Dad again. They knew they loved each other: he was sure of that. They were not the hugging type—the firm handshake said it all. He loved Dad. His eyes were tearing up so he looked to the clouds to distract his thoughts. It worked and he soon dozed off.
A bump woke him. The clouds drifting had relaxed him but these same clouds brought the thing he hated about flying: turbulence. The seat belt indicator lit up. He tensed up and closed his eyes as the first wave of turbulence came. Why did Dad turn to God? The next wave came. He wondered what had happened to Dad. Another wave, he thought of praying but then wondered would God hear his prayers? The turbulence passed. He relaxed.
They were through the clouds now, and Aaron watched as the houses came closer. He straightened up in his seat and waited for the wheels to hit the runway. He looked forward to seeing Mackenzie. He smiled, but how he wished things could be different.
<°)))><
Mackenzie Gordon sat in her red Ford Fiesta, some distance from the domestic terminal. She was early, so had pulled over. She sat, thinking. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel in rhythm with the praise and worship music she had playing. She loved Aaron, but they were pulling in different directions. Her prayers that the stumbling block to his faith be removed had not yet been answered.
Her phone rang.
“Mackenzie?”
It was Aaron’s mum, and she was sniffling.
“Not good news, my love . . . I’ve tried Aaron’s phone but he must have it turned off. They’ve found a body way out at Eight Mile Plains.”
“Eight Mile Plains?” Mackenzie said. “That couldn’t be—”
“I think it is, love . . . I think it is.”
“I’m sorry, Jill. Shall I get Aaron to call you?”
“Please do. They’ve asked that someone from the family come and confirm that it’s Patrick. I’d like Aaron to come with me.”
Mackenzie put down the phone and asked the Lord to not let it be Aaron’s dad. She gripped the steering wheel, hard. Her chest tightened up. She tried hard not to cry, but the tears came anyway.
<°)))><
Aaron walked to the public pick-up area. The airport had undergone some refurbishments since the last time he was here, so he wasn’t quite sure which way to go. He looked at his phone and shook his head, annoyed. He’d forgotten to charge it.
“Aaron.”
He turned to see Mackenzie coming towards him. She looked wonderful, tanned with a black and blue sleeveless print dress, but he could tell that she’d been crying. He braced himself for what was to come. He gave her a hug, told her how beautiful she looked and waited for her to tell him. She tucked her arm in his and pointed in the direction they should go. They started walking—Aaron’s suitcase producing a rhythmic sound, like a train, as its wheels dipped in and out of the contours of the paved sidewalk.
“Your mum phoned. You need to give her a call.”
Aaron nodded. Mackenzie was giving his mother the courtesy of telling him.
“This is it . . . my red machine.”
They sat in the car, silent. Aaron adjusted the seat for more leg room. Mackenzie gave him a smile.
“You’re looking good, Aaron.”
“Thanks, Kenz. One small problem though. My phone is dead. Could I borrow yours?”
Aaron watched Mackenzie dig into her handbag and find her phone. She handed it to him, then started the car.
“Well, I suppose we best get going.”
