WHERE THEY FALL, page 11
“Anything else, Jacob.”
“No, Detective. That’s all.”
“Great, thanks for you help. All we need now is the contents of the PO Box, if there is any?”
“Detective. I’m not sure I can do that. Yes, the Australian Government owns Australia Post, but the government doesn’t own the contents of the box. That breaches privacy laws and technically, it’s theft.”
“Don’t you worry about that. It’s our problem, not yours. How do we access it from the inside?”
Jacob hesitated. Blake gave him a warm smile. She tilted her head a little to the left. “Please,” she said, almost seductively.
“Okay, fine. Follow me.”
Jacob led them both to a small white door near the front of the shop. He pulled a key from the pocket of his oversized stonewashed jeans and unlocked it. A dark and narrow walkway appeared behind the door, bigger than a wall cavity but smaller than a corridor. A single globe hung from a light socket in the ceiling.
Jacob located box 258 from the inside and reached in. He pulled out three envelopes and handed them to Rachael Blake. “Here,” he said. “That’s it.”
Blake held on to them.
“Thanks, Jacob,” Cole said as they exited the claustrophobic little walkway. “You’ve been a great help. Enjoy your day.”
Cole turned and walked out the electric sliding doors. Blake, still clutching the envelopes, shook Jacob’s hand, then followed right behind her partner. Lachlan Harvey’s disappearance was getting stranger by the minute. They needed to find out more.
The aged lady with the scarf and cardigan stood outside, resting her weight on her walking stick. Blake approached her and placed her hand invitingly on the woman’s shoulder. “Thanks for your patience,” she said. “The post office is now safe to enter.”
Next stop, Headquarters.
FIFTEEN
Lachlan Harvey pinched himself.
The guards had ushered him back to his prison-like room in Area A’s white corridor. Still coming to terms with what he had just seen, he struggled to process his new reality. He stared at the wall in a strange state of fatigued disbelief.
Lachlan knew the science existed. He knew that, in theory, what they had been doing at Project Alpha was possible, but he never thought people would actually go through with it. If a line between right and wrong existed in synthetic biology, engineering human subjects crossed that line. Lachlan felt sick. Even though he was there against his will, guilt rose from the pits of his empty stomach.
The lock to his handle-less door disengaged and two armed guards walked in without knocking. Alana had introduced one of them as Sebastian earlier. The other looked almost identical. Tall, muscled, defined jaw line. The same manicured haircut and fearsome scowl.
“It’s time for dinner,” Sebastian said, looking at Lachlan with a detached, wide-eyed stare.
“And what does that mean? Where is dinner?”
“Follow us, Mr Harvey. We will escort you to the cafeteria.”
Lachlan did as they requested. He kept pace as the guards led him deeper into Area A. Double doors opened to a large communal room at the end of the sterile corridor. Ten steel tables congested the tiled floor with bench seating bolted to sterile concrete. A servery took up the entire length of the far side of the room. Lachlan noticed steam rising from bain-maries. Staff lined up, serving themselves on black plastic trays. Lachlan’s stomach growled. His mouth salivated from the smell.
He turned to Sebastian. The guard nodded and pointed towards the line of staff. Lachlan didn’t need to be told twice. He paced across the grey tiles and picked up a tray from a neat pile at the start of the servery. He scanned the room, locating Stephen and Lawrence sitting together at a table in the centre. Lachlan prided himself on his skills of observation. He absorbed the scene, taking mental notes of everything. Many occupants wore the black uniform of the guards. They sat comfortably on the bench seats and shovelled food into their mouths. But just as many wore lab whites, identical to Lachlan’s clothing. He spotted Alana sitting at a table in the corner with two men. They didn’t wear white. They didn’t wear black. Both of them looked like civilians. Both were Asian. One wore a navy-blue suit, with a matching tie and a pair of shiny, caramel-brown dress shoes. Gel held his hair in place. A pair of reading glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The other civilian wore denim jeans, a pair of suede Timberland boots and a plain, charcoal hooded sweater. The three of them hunched forward over the table, studying a pile of paperwork. A guard stood nearby with his rifle at the ready. Lachlan studied Alana’s body language. Something about the interaction intrigued him.
“Are you going to move forward or not?”
Lachlan turned his gaze from Alana and the mysterious men in the corner to the voice behind him. A woman. Mid-twenties. Blonde hair. High cheekbones. Narrow eyes the colour of the South Pacific. The left side of her lip lifted into a slight smirk.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was zoning out.”
“I can see that. Now come on. It won’t stay hot forever.”
He shuffled forward and reached the first bain-marie. Pre-cut portions of lasagne piled up under heat lamps, a rich, cheesy sauce oozing from the pasta sheets. A spatula rested on the servery beside the tray, covered in Napolitano sauce and cheese that had solidified as it cooled.
“Don’t get the lasagne,” whispered the woman behind him. “It’s never any good. Trust me. The cottage pie is always a crowd favourite. If there’s any left, get it while you can.”
Lachlan nodded. He walked past the lasagne and scooped a pile of roast potatoes and a handful of green beans on to his plate. He reached for the cottage pie. Half a dozen pre-cut slabs remained. Golden-brown cheese glistened on top of the mashed potato. They had sprinkled something green across the top as a garnish.
“It’s your lucky day,” said the woman.
Lachlan took the woman’s suggestion and placed a slab of the steaming pie onto his tray.
“Thanks. I hope it’s worth the hype. What’s your name?”
The woman stared at Lachlan with an unusual gaze. “They refer to me as Epsilon.”
“Epsilon? Like from the Greek alphabet?”
Epsilon shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is.”
Lachlan’s eyes darted around the cafeteria with rising caution. He lowered his voice. “How did you get here? Did they take you, too?”
Her eyes narrowed. Confusion formed lines above the bridge of her nose.
“I was born here,” she said.
“Born here? You’ve been here since you were a child?”
“Child? What is a child?”
Sebastian appeared beside them, his shadow looming over Lachlan. “Enough talking. Collect your food and move on!”
“But…”
“Enough talking, Mr Harvey. Get your food and go sit down!”
Lachlan looked from Sebastian to Epsilon, standing emotionless behind him. She smiled. It was beautiful. “I’d do as he says,” she suggested.
He bit his tongue. Arguing was pointless. He left Epsilon standing beside Sebastian at the servery and sat at the closest empty table. His stomach rumbled with hunger, yet he felt sick with unease, unable to stomach food. He turned and watched Epsilon. She piled the cottage pie onto her tray and walked towards a table of other blonde-haired residents. It clicked. Lachlan had just had his first real interaction with a subject. A synthesised human made at the hands of Project Alpha. He wondered how much they knew. Did they know the Project had engineered them? Did they think differently? Did they feel things differently? How could they not know what a child was?
Epsilon sat down, said something to the group at the table, and they all laughed. Lachlan admired their innocence, despite the belittling naiveté. They probably thought that this was all there was. He wondered if they knew what existed outside the walls of this underground prison. He wondered if they had ever seen the outside world.
Lachlan flinched, sensing someone approach behind him. He didn’t hear it. He felt it. The unnerving feeling of someone entering his personal space caused him to shudder as he turned to see Alana and the blue suit civilian standing behind him. The grey sweater guy remained at his table.
“Mr Harvey,” Alana said. “I’d like you to meet Victor. Victor represents one of our investors. He has heard many great things about you. In fact, it was Victor that suggested we acquire you for our research.”
Lachlan stared at Victor. Victor narrowed his eyes and stared right back. “I can understand your fears, Mr Harvey,” he said, stepping around the table and taking a seat across from Lachlan. “We have taken you against your will. Yes. Will you ever be able to go home? Yes. What we need from you is quantifiable success. We need to see decreased mortality rates and increased fertility. We need to see decreases in organ failure. If you can achieve these things we will set you free. The board has allowed three months to iron out these proverbial kinks.”
“Three months?”
Heads from other tables turned at the volume of Lachlan’s response. The charcoal sweater guy shuffled in his seat.
“You’re going to keep me here for three months? This is insane. What about my family?”
“Don’t worry about your family. If you’re successful, we will reward you and your family for your efforts.”
Tears welled in Lachlan’s tired eyes. “And what if I’m not successful? What if I cannot change the mortality rates?”
Victor ran his hand through his gelled hair. “Then we will need to find someone who can.” He stood. “Mr Harvey, I have read your reports. I have studied your findings. You’re the right man for the job. I know you are. But don’t take that for granted. You’re still a prisoner. Having you here is beneficial to our cause, but we don’t need you. I suggest you remember that.”
“Who is we?”
Victor grinned. “At the moment, that’s not your concern.”
“How are you getting away with this on Australian soil?”
Victor cackled. “Let’s just say that everyone has a price. Now, if I were you, I would focus less on the who and more on the how. Success will set you free, Mr Harvey. Take that for what it is.”
Victor took two paces, adjusted his suit jacket and looked down at Lachlan, still holding a fork full of mashed potato. “Good luck, Mr Harvey. I believe you are what we need. Don’t prove me wrong.”
He didn’t wait for a response. He paced across the dining hall and stood beside the guy with casual counterpart. They exchanged words, and then both left the cafeteria. Alana remained standing beside Lachlan Harvey.
“Have you got what you need now, Lachlan?”
“Have I got what I need? How? I’ve been told virtually nothing.”
“We have given you a time frame. That’s something. So you better settle in. You’re not going anywhere for three months. Acceptance is the first step, Mr Harvey. Now eat up. Tomorrow, we will study the genetic code. Perhaps, you can see something that I have missed.”
Alana gave Lachlan a pat on the shoulder and walked away. He stared at the pile of cottage pie on his tray and shoved his fork into it. His chin trembled. His eyes welled.
“Three fucking months!”
SIXTEEN
Annabelle stopped running fifty metres from the Landcruiser.
Jake and the others jumped out of the car at the same time Annabelle stopped and turned. “Don’t move,” she screamed from where she stood alone in the red desert sand. “There’s a big bloody snake in the rim.”
Jules dived straight back into the car and pulled the door closed with a squeal. Jake and Larry tiptoed around to the passenger side of the vehicle, and, keeping a safe distance, they peered into the dirt-covered rim of the front wheel.
Scales.
Slithering slowly.
“Holy shit,” said Larry. “Annabelle’s right. That’s a snake alright.”
Jake rushed to the back of the Landcruiser and pulled out the winch bar used to lower the spare tyre from the camper trailer. He clutched the steel rod and returned to the front tyre. Annabelle inched closer, curious to see what her partner intended on doing.
“Shit, Jakey boy, don’t get bitten out here,” Larry said. “You’ll bloody-well die.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Jake poked the snake with the end of the rod. It writhed inside the tyre. He poked it again. It presented its face and hissed, opening its mouth defensively toward Jake, kneeling less than a metre away.
“It’s an inland taipan,” Jake said, unnervingly calm. “One of the most venomous snakes on the planet.”
“Well, bugger this,” Larry said, pacing backwards to join Annabelle at a safe distance. “You’re on your own, Jakey boy.”
“I need to get it out of the tyre. I don’t want to harm it.”
“Who cares about that?” Jules yelled from behind the safety of the rear-seat window. “Kill the damn thing. It’s a monster.”
Jake ignored Jules. He poked the snake again, and it finally gave up its comfortable spot inside the rim. It lurched out at an impossible speed and struck at Jake. Annabelle screamed. Larry cursed. Jake bounced up and swung the rod to deflect the snake’s aggressive attack. He missed the snake. The snake missed him. It took off along the hot desert sand and made for a clump of boulders on the south side of the Lake Callabonna road.
Everyone stood still for a moment, shaking off the creepy-crawly feeling. Jules wound her window down an inch. “Is everyone okay?” She asked from inside the car.
“Depends what you mean by okay,” Jake said, laughing. “I think I just shat myself.”
Annabelle and Larry tiptoed back towards the car, half expecting a family of inland taipans to appear from underneath.
“God, it seems like one drama after the other,” said Jules. “It’s like this place is cursed.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s not cursed. It’s just the Australian outback!” Jake said. “Now come on. Let’s lock these hubs and hit the road.”
“There aint no road, Jakey boy.”
“Even better!”
The track led over a series of sandy hills. Jake let the tyre pressure down so the wheels gripped better to the soft sand. He couldn’t be sure, but as he stared at the terrain before him, he could have sworn he saw recent tyre tracks.
After a kilometre on the faint track, they came to a rusted sign hanging from a single star-dropper post with a bent and rusted nail.
PRIVATE PROPERTY.
The paint was faded and cracked, the writing only just legible from the cab of the Landcruiser. Jake slowed down as they neared the warning sign.
“Ignore it,” Annabelle said, pre-empting the questions. “It’s probably been here for decades. Look, there aren’t any fences or anything. We’re just passing through.”
Jake looked at his girlfriend and shrugged. “Suits me.”
They put the daunting memory of the snake’s presence behind them as Jake continued forward across the sand, passing the rusted sign on his left. He grinned like a schoolboy, his tongue poking out as he handled his prized possession over the harsh landscape. Jules read the blurb of a book titled The Dig Tree aloud. She knew very little about the failed Burke and Wills expedition and had borrowed the book from the local library. Now, three days into her role as a passenger, she picked the book up and turned to the first page.
Parts of the track completely blended into the red sand, making navigation almost impossible. Annabelle stared out the windscreen, looking for compressions in the sand, but more than once, they lost the track and had to back up to find it again.
“Geez,” said Larry. “I hope we did the right thing and were not just heading out into the middle of the desert. We wouldn’t wanna get lost out here.”
Annabelle was the voice of reason.
“Laz, it’s simple navigation. If we keep going north, we’ll hit the Strzelecki Track. It’s unavoidable.”
Jake slowed down and came to a stop in the middle of a slight depression between two sandy crests.
“Sorry guys. I need to see a man about a dog.”
Jules lifted her eyes from the pages of her book. “You what?”
Annabelle laughed. “It means he needs to take a shit.”
“Yeah, sorry. When I said before that the snake nearly made me shit myself, I wasn’t joking. Hang tight guys, I won’t be long.”
Jake stepped out into the mid-morning sun and used his hand to shield his face from its heat. He went to the back door of the Landcruiser and grabbed a roll of toilet paper stashed into a compartment in the door and took off towards a series of small rocks littering the red land.
Annabelle watched Jake pace across the rocks and disappear behind a small rise. She opened her door to stretch her legs and get a packet of chips from a bag in the back. Jules stayed inside the cab, immersed in her book, and Larry did what he does best. He opened the battery-powered fridge in the back and pulled out a beer.
“Jesus, Larry. It’s ten in the morning,” Annabelle said.
“No rest for the wicked!” He grinned and pulled the tab, piercing the top of the can, before taking a long, hard swing. “Desert life isn’t so bad. I could get used to this.”
“Well,” Annabelle said, “we’re going to run out of beer by tomorrow.”
“Nah, I’ll pace myself. Slow and steady wins the race, Annie.”
The two of them sat on the hood, absorbing the solitude, basking in the unnerving freedom of the flat desert terrain. The sun glistened off something in the distance, causing Annabelle to look north. A reflection. Something moved.
“Do you see that?” she asked Larry.
He placed his beer on the top of the bulbar and used his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The sun’s reflection bounced off something metallic in the distance. He heard the faint rumble of a diesel engine. “Shit, Annie. It’s another vehicle.” He laughed. “Who would have thought that we would cross paths with someone out here on this random dirt track?”
Annabelle and Larry hopped down off the hood and watched the vehicle approach. A Toyota Hilux. Black paint job. Tinted windows. Annabelle found it odd how clean the vehicle was, being out in the middle of the desert. In contrast to Jake’s Landcruiser, covered in a layer of red desert dust, the black Hilux looked like it had come straight from a car wash.
