The Weathermakers (Rebelutionaries Series: Book 1)
Chapter 2
Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.
-Marie Curie (1867-1934)
The ball of my Adam’s Apple was protruding in spite of trying to keep my cool.
“How can the only hotel in town have no vacancies?”
“It hasn’t happened for years luv, but we’ve had a sudden run on rooms,” said a cheery woman who’d identified herself as Cheryl. “A party of Japanese tourists arrived earlier. Booked out every room in the hotel and paid in advance for their stay.”
“My office tried calling you to book me a room this morning.”
“Sorry luv. Mustn’t have heard the phone. To tell the truth I’ve been flat tack all day fixing rooms upstairs we never normally use because of the Jap chaps.”
“I s’pose they all rocked up in hired Avis cars,” I said snarkily.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess... Listen I’m a journalist. I wanted to interview a few locals who witnessed last night’s earthquake. Is there anywhere else in town I can bed down?”
“Not in town. But there’s a B & B outta town... Actually if you want to interview people about the quake, Banja Station would be a better base anyway, ‘coz it’s closer to the epicentre.”
“How do you know where the epicentre was?”
“I was in the pub at the time. The quake just shook everyone’s stubbies here in town. It bloomin’ well knocked ‘em off the tables out at Murrin Murrin and Mulga Queen. Just like last time.”
“This Banja station,” I ventured. “Has it been booked out by Japanese tourists as well?”
“Doubt it. I was chatting to Jen earlier today - making sure she was okay after the quake. She mentioned in passing she’s got a small group of young blokes arriving in dribs and drabs today but I’m pretty sure they’re Aussies. Studying geology and physics. Want me to ask if she’s got a spare bed for you?”
“Thanks.”
I watched my substitute personal assistant pick up a radio mic in mild disbelief.
“You actually still use that antiquated radio gear for communication?”
“’Course. It’s free. You can chat as long as you like on H.F. Generally more reliable too. Sat phones don’t work half the time... Hey Jen... Dave... Got your ears on? It’s Cheryl...”
Ω
“There you go. Your accommodation problem’s fixed luv.”
“Thanks. The all-male company in the singlemen’s quarters sounds interesting...”
“Sounds more like they’re boring brainiacs, but if they get too much for you, just let Jen know. She’ll clobber ‘em into line with a bit of 4x2.”
Cheryl’s bubbly nature finally woke up a weak smile in me.
“I forgot to ask... is it hard to get to this station?”
“That depends on your driving skills... Actually that’s right. You haven’t got wheels ‘til tonight have you?”
“Don’t remind me,” I blistered.
“Hmmm... Tyson’s doing the grocery drop out that way this arvo. Let me check with Marj to see if he’s left yet.”
Cheryl waddled over towards the counter and pressed a button.
“An intercom?”
“The town’s postmaster set it up years ago, so everyone on the main street could talk to each other for free. Ol’ Laney reckoned he couldn’t stand everyone yelling at each other from their respective balconies.”
“Right,” I said, pushing away the feeling that I’d been picked up by an unseen hand and dropped back in time about forty years...
Ω
Tyson’s ute had seen better days. She had non-existent shockies – the attachment studs that held them in place had long since sheared off. She didn’t need a key to start her – just a screwdriver in the ignition. Her exhaust was also non-existent, so she sounded like a dozen Harleys. And being a Ford, both door handles were broken. Not surprisingly, the driver’s door wouldn’t open from the inside either.
I watched Tyson ease his 6’4” frame in through the ute’s window, and then slid in beside him. Tyson grinned at me approvingly. I had a hunch he was enjoying the opportunity to be taxi driver as well as delivery driver.
The ute took off, leaving a cloud of blue smoke behind it. I pulled out my mobile with the intention of sending Frank an unladylike text about the assignment he’d lumped me with.
Fab. No network coverage. And we were still in town.
Tyson glanced at my iPhone.
“That one of those new-fangled GPS’s?”
“Er... no. It’s a phone. Although there’s a GPS app on it.”
“Right.”
His expression suggested he had no idea what an app was.
“Do you need to make a phone call before we head out of town?”
“No. It can wait.”
“Well if you need to make any STD calls while you’re here, use the public phone outside the Post Office.”
“Why?”
“The coin box is full. Which means that all calls from the phone are free until someone comes up from Kalgoorlie to empty it... You can even call overseas free at the moment.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind...”
Ω
Miraculously the ute made it out of town. It was air-conditioned. Naturally. Tyson had wound down my window with a pair of pliers before we left Laverton. Honey blonde hair whipped around my face in the warm breeze. I tried to ignore the dust from the carpet blowing around in the cab. A few minutes into the trip, Tyson swung wildly over to the wrong side of the road.
“What are you doing?” I gasped.
“Emus. Didn’t you see ‘em?”
I swung around and peered through the dusty rear window. Sure enough. Half a dozen emus were casually striding across the road like they owned it. Tyson grinned and slowly drifted back to the correct side of the road. He reached out and switched on the radio. A woman with a monotone voice was interviewing some truckies about their distance driving adventures... She was asking one of them to elaborate on an incident one time where he was being chased by min-min lights, but it was hard to follow the interview due to the combination of road noise, engine noise and radio static.
I stared off at the distant horizon.
When I next see you Frank, you are so dead.
Ω
Zac and Dave greeted each other with cordial nods.
“It sounds like you live in an interesting part of the planet. Another sighting last night you say?”
“Yep. First there was a pulsed roaring engine sound. Then the fireball. Orange-red, spherical with no tail. Next an explosion near ground level. Then a high energy burst of rippling white light. Made everything look like daylight for a few secs. After that a really loud explosion. And finally the earthquake that registered 4.2 on the Richter scale.”
“How’d your equipment fare?”
“Everything in my workshop’s fine. It’s basically one big walk-in Faraday cage although I disconnected my antennas as an extra precaution to protect my gear.”
“Talking of communications gear, that reminds me,” piped up Jen. “Cheryl called us on the H.F a while ago. The hotel in town’s chockers, so she’s sending someone out our way who needs accommodation. They’re catching a ride out here with Tyson. Rocking up about five.”
“But we can’t put him up Jen!”
“Why not? We’ve got two empty rooms in the singlemen’s quarters.”
“Don’t you remember me telling you? The Professor made a private booking of the singlemen’s quarters for the whole week. He’s conducting a workshop with his students and they need to be able to spread themselves out and leave their project lying around.”
“You never explained it to me that way!” protested Jen. “I came home late from Kalgoorlie the other night and all you said was we had a group booking for some geology and physics students.”
“Not geology and physics. Geophysics!”
Zac sensed a looming eruption and stepped between them.
“Hey D
ave... Jen. Truce. Don’t let a little miscommunication turn into something bigger. This unexpected guest you’ve got landed with is probably only staying a night or two anyway. Is there anywhere other than the singlemen’s quarters he can bunk down?”
“We could put him in our granny-flat I suppose,” suggested Jen.
“It’s a fair distance from the singlemen’s quarters,” added Dave.
“Sounds good. Problem solved,” said Zac casually.
“Well whoever Cheryl’s drop-in is, I hope he ruddy well speaks English,” added Dave.
“Do you get many foreigners?”
“We’ve had a few Asian backpackers through lately. Real hard to communicate with. Some of them hardly speak English. Or at least they pretend not to. Not sure they’re all backpackers either.”
Unfeigned curiosity.
“What makes you say that?”
“Had one fella stay out here ‘bout a fortnight ago. Pretended he couldn’t speak English. Then I happened to be in town at the cop shop and he comes in an’ asks the cops a bunch of questions about the location of an abandoned town-site east of Jindalee. His English was as fluent as mine. Not even an accent. He told them he wanted to go relic huntin’.”
“Strange. Are you sure it was the same backpacker?”
“Yep. Saw the same bike parked outside when I walked out. It had a scratch on the fender. He recognized me too. You know - quickly broke off eye contact.”
“What did he do when he was out here anyway?”
“No idea. He just took off on his bike every morning after breakfast and came back at sunset.”
“There was that other foreign bloke too,” interposed Jen. “Remember? The one you saw the other day when you went to check the fences.”
“Him? Yeah. That’s right. Right down the back border of our property. He was wanderin’ around like he owned the place, holding some meter with leads running off it. And probes that touched the ground.”
“Were the probes in the dirt or were they in holes drilled down in the rock?”
It was Jake’s first attempt to join the conversation.
“I didn’t notice lad. Why?”
“I was just trying to work out what instrument you saw him using.”
“I dunno. All I know is that he was wandering around on our property without our permission. And if he was a tourist he was mighty lost. Down the back where he was, there’s nothing but the Great Victorian Desert beyond us and an access track to JORN to the side of us...”
Ω
“How much further?”
I felt frazzled and in need of a substantial shower.
“That turnoff we just passed was to Jindalee. Banja’s about twenty clicks away.”
“Jindalee?”
“Stands for Jindalee Operational Radar Network. JORN for short. There’s several bits to it. That one back there, and another bit at Leonora. And there’s some other bits out near Mulga Queen ‘parently.”
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed my iPhone’s screen flicker. I glanced down, amazed to see that I had reception... The repeater was listed as WMK1. Weird...
“That place back there – Jindalee. Is it a telecommunications centre?”
“Could be. Officially it’s some place where they monitor over-the-horizon air and sea movements – you know, border security stuff to stop illegals entering Australia. ‘Cept Dave reckons there’s more to the place than that. Ask him ‘bout it while you’re staying out at his place. I can’t guarantee you’ll understand what he’s nattering ‘bout though. Dave can talk pretty tech when you get ‘im started...”
Ω
A jeep pulled up near where Dave, Zac and Jake were standing.
“Gidday lads!” greeted Dave. “I was wondering when you three would put in an appearance. The Professor and young Jake arrived here the best part of an hour ago.”
The olive-skinned driver looked slightly startled and quickly switched off the jeep’s engine. All three occupants reported to Zac.
“Sorry Sir. We didn’t realize we were late.”
“You aren’t late. This isn’t college.”
“Actually by the look of the sky your timing’s perfect,” added Dave. “Jen! You might want to grab the washing love! Let me see if I’ve got everyone’s names right - Pete, Dale, Brendan... meet Jake and Zac. You can all get better acquainted tonight when you bunk down together. Right now though, we’d all best dash around and batten down a few things. Just in case...”
“The reddish patch over on the horizon... Is it a willy willy?”
“You tell me. Put your back to the wind.”
“Odd. There isn’t any.”
Zac looked at the wall of dust intently.
“Hail or heavy rain?”
“Yep. My guess is hailstones hitting the ground creating the dust. Except the correct answer is actually an enigma because hail forms in moisture-laden thunderclouds, not in dry conditions and cloudless blue skies like you see around you.”
“You know how you said you monitor the weather in your area as a hobby... Anything unusual in this immediate area at the moment?” asked Dale.
“According to the Bureau of Meteorology, there have been no significant variations in humidity in the last two hours. The barometric pressure hasn’t fluctuated either. I can print off the raw data for you if you want to have a gander for yourself.”
“This hail that falls when there aren’t thunderstorms around. Have you checked it out?” added Pete.
“When it’s fallen close to the homestead I have. Looks like normal hail to me... Melts like normal hail does too. Pretty quickly on a day like this.”
“Care to comment Jake?”
Jake looked down at his feet and shook his head in response to Zac’s question.
“Well I care to comment and I say it defies the laws of physics...” murmured Brendan.
“Well finding out why something that defies the laws of physics is happening in this area is part of the reason we’re all here,” finished Zac softly.
Ω
Tyson was still driving but at snail’s pace. He was rubbernecking out of the ute’s window, staring up at the sky. I was swearing under my breath at the pliers. Clumsily trying to wind up my window with them.
“I don’t like the look of this,” repeated Tyson.
His voice sounded shockingly small for such a big man.
“It’s just a baby dust storm,” I said reassuringly.
Wimp!
“Not the dust I’m worried about... It’s the glowy thingies above us.”
I stuck my head out of the window Tyson style. My eyes tracked his pointed finger and I gasped. In wimped shock. Directly above us were three glowing propane-blue fireballs. They drifted across the sky in lazy slow motion.
Long-lasting ball lightning? St Elmo’s fire?
Textbook descriptions of both always associated them with thunderstorms. But the sky was blue. There was no detectable smell of ozone in the air either. Or prickly sensations on the skin. This was definitely not a textbook lightning storm. Actually it wasn’t a textbook anything.
“Stop the car. Stop the car!”
Tyson quipped something about me sounding like a madwoman at an Ikea sale. I was too awestruck to serve him back. About 500ft above the pirouetting fireballs, fluffy blue-black clouds were forming. One solitary mushroom-shaped patch of thunderhead cloud in an otherwise baby blue canvas. Moments later, hail started pelting down out of the mini cloud. I leapt out of the ute like it was full of wasps.
“What’s the matter?”
“My black bag... It’s chockers with camera equipment!”
The noise of the ice hitting the ute was fear-provoking. Tyson clambered out after me and obligingly held an open street directory over my head as makeshift shelter.
“Do ya remember where we put the bag?” he yelled above the din.
I felt under the tarp which was covering the load and wrenched it out. Tyson shoved me back into the ute, then dived in after me
. I sat clutching the steering wheel, weak from the adrenaline and gasping for breath. Tyson’s expression reflected his genuine concern.
“Take slow, deep breaths,” he advised.
“Take photos!” I snapped back, unzipping the bag and thrusting my Powershot into his hands. I picked up my Nikon, and attached the telephoto lens with fumbling, damp fingers. I glanced briefly at Tyson. He was examining the Powershot with an expression which suggested he didn’t know how to use it.
“Point it towards the fiery balls, and when you see them in the little TV screen keep clicking that button there.”
A three second guide to UFO photography by Maya Gregory. Not a bad title for a freelance article.
Tyson clicked away like a tourist. I carefully aimed my telephoto lens at the fireballs. Hail in the way of that shot... another attempt... there... a snap of the three strange lights... and another... Huh?
“Where’d the fireballs go?”
“They zipped away really fast like rockets. That way...” shrugged Tyson. “The cloud’s all but gone too... It’s back to blue skies. Talk about wacky weather...”
I slammed Tyson’s ute into gear and stepped on the accelerator. Tyson glanced at me as if sizing me up.
“You done much drivin’ on gravel lady?”
“No time to change seats. We’ve got a storm to chase!”
Ω
“It’s gonna hit down towards the boundary fence this time. Pity... If it was closer we could drive down and grab some hail so you could see for yerselves. But it’s too far away to bother.”
“The area the storm’s hitting right now... Is it where you saw the foreign tourist with the meter and the probes the other day?”
Jake’s softly spoken question caused everyone to look up.
“Stone the crows... You might have something there lad.”
Zac was secretly impressed. Jake was as bland as baby-food but he was obviously a thinker.
“Well if you’ll all excuse me I might rustle up some drinks and light the barbie for tea,” said Dave. “Make yerselves comfy on the patio,” he added, wandering off in the direction of the homestead.
Outdoor furniture legs scraped along the concrete like chalk across a blackboard as they rearranged the chairs.
“I wonder if he has a ceraunograph,” murmured Jake, peering at the distant micro-storm again.
“Why?” laughed Pete.
“Lightning gives off radio waves whereas a Tesla coil is a poor source of radio waves...”
“...so it’d confirm whether the lightning was natural or manmade,” finished Dale.
“Smart cookie,” said Brendan, catching Jake’s eye.
Jake quickly broke off eye contact.
“I might look around while Dave’s getting the drinks... Catch you later.”
Ω
Just ahead, the dirt track I was tearing down veered sharply to the left. I stared disenchanted towards the right at the curious storm again.
“Hey Tyson... Your ute... Can it handle bush bashing?”
“Yeah. But I wouldn’t recommend it when it’s laden with your luggage and Banja’s groceries. Jen’ll have me for breakfast if I hand her a box with six dozen scrambled eggs in it.”
I sighed in silent agreement and slowed down for the left hand bend.
“Sorry. You’re right. You’ve got to live here after I go on my merry way back to Perth. How far are we from the station now anyway?”
“See that row of trees off in the distance? That’s their driveway...”
Ω
Eyes watched Jake amble off towards the singlemen’s quarters.
“What’s with the kid you brought with you Sir?” asked Brendan softly.
It was not quite a complaint.
“Make allowances for him eh? You’ve all got a foot of height and five years on him. And we’ve all got the advantage of knowing each other already.”
“How come Gordon didn’t give you a post-grad cover student like he usually does?”
“Jake is a post grad student. He’s actually got two first class honours degrees in geophysics and computer science under his belt and he’s almost completed his Masters in planetary physics. At seventeen.”
Stunned responses from all three men.
“A teen prodigy?!”
“Yep. Gordon ran two hundred potential Australian applicants through his screening computer and Jake topped four of the six selection categories. His age and personality didn’t match our requirements. But given the delicate nature of this assignment, we felt selecting a young, meek student might work to our advantage anyway.”
“You sound like you’re expecting trouble Sir?”
“I’m expecting the worst and hoping for the best. By the way... Enough with the Sir stuff. All of you. It’s driving me nuts!”
Grins all round.
“You were the one who said to make it seem like we didn’t know you, ‘til you were sure of Dave.”
“Dave’s on the level. He’s definitely observed the experimental use of environmental warfare weapons. Whoever’s experimenting with them has also modified the local weather and induced minor earthquakes in this neck of the woods... I don’t think Dave realises that he and his wife are living near an intercontinental electro-magnetic weapons test site however...”
“Young Jake. Does he know much about E/M weaponry?”
“I’ve yet to find out.”
“You hinted we’re expecting trouble. Will he add to the trouble in an emergency?”
“I’ve yet to find that out as well. So far he’s been feeling his way with me. Supplying cautious, uninformative answers if I directly ask him questions.”
“So you don’t think we’ll get far asking direct questions about his environmental stance or political views?”
“I’ve learnt more about him just by observing him than I have from what he’s told me about himself.”
“Like?”
“He’s an infrequent air traveller; he can read Korean; he’s shy of women and he tries to hide the fact that he’s brilliant...”
“Well that’s not too bad a start anyway.”
“I know our usual modus operandi is that you three establish peer-to-peer report with the real students and I keep my distance until they’re relaxed around you, but when we arrived I put my luggage in the family room with the en-suite and Jake followed me in, plonked his case on the other bed and started unzipping it.”
Guffaw and chuckling in response.
“Didn’t he realize there were enough rooms for everyone to have their own?”
“Apparently not. Still. Rooming in with him for a night or two might encourage him to drop his guard anyway.”
“You reckon you can draw him out of his shell?”
“I’ve got a couple of ideas up my sleeve.”
“I bet he’ll pray for the kid and freak him out!” ragged Brendan.
“Nah. He’ll put his angel Jireh to work on the kid ‘til he’s freed up.”
Zac laughed good naturedly along with the three men.
“Hey. There’s nothing to stop you three building report with Jake as well. Let’s end this discussion for now though. Dave’s coming back with refreshments. And it looks like there’s a car in the distance. Presumably Dave and Jen’s unexpected guest.”
“Guest? I thought we had the place to ourselves.”
“We made a private booking, but there was a bit of miscommunication. We’ll just have to work around it.”
“Any special orders regarding this other guest?”
“Usual procedure. Sidetrack... distract... create a diversion... And learn all you can about the unexpected guest in case he’s a plant...”
Ω
Tyson yelled an excited greeting as we pulled into Banja Station. The surprise that he was in the passenger seat of his ute registered on the face of the woman standing near the homestead doorway. Jen Hopkins I presumed. A group of men were seated on rough sawn timber benches under the patio. Laughing and chatt
ing. They looked around at the sound of Tyson’s voice. One of them got to his feet. Dave Hopkins I presumed.
“Hey Dave... Ya wouldn’t believe what happened to us on the way here!” yelped Tyson, before he was even out of the car. “We saw three UFOs!!”
That got everybody to their feet.
“You both okay?” asked Dave solemnly.
Tyson nodded.
“Took photos. Wanna see them?”
“Sure do. Let’s unload yer ute first.”
“We’ll help you.”
That voice? This was the place he was staying at?
I had wanted to see him again, but not when I look like this! My hair was wildly tangled and my clothes were damp and dusty, thanks to the hail and the condition of the dirt tracks we’d been driving along. I could hear him approaching the ute. Footsteps crunching closer.
Fab. No time to even run a brush through my hair. Never mind. Beauty is part couture and part attitude and I still had attitude.
I drew a deep breath, slid out of the passenger seat and looked up. Directly into his tropical ocean eyes. He looked momentarily taken aback but quickly recovered.
“Well, will you look who the wind blew in!” grinned Zac.