No, it wasn't cause I'm some sort of model. Who said that? Floryn?
I wish...I wish it were that simple.
Much more sinister than that.
Sit down and I'll let you in on Sonno's story...
"Right you lot," boomed the over loud voice of Macka, the supervisor. "Time to get to it. Them f***in fences aren't gonna fix them f***in selves!!!"
"Oh bugger off Macka" whined little Jonesey in the corner. "I was having a grouse dream about me, Miranda Kerr and..."
"Dream on, mate!" was the chorus in unison from just about everyone else... except the odd one out,
Sonno sat on her bunk, already fully dressed for work, jeans, boots and flannel shirt, an Akubra perched on the head. Gloves and tools packed and a pair of pod headphones jammed into her ears. The phones connected to an iPod, which more than likely was playing Metal...
Aside from being the only female, you'd not pick she was any different than the rest of them. It hadn't been easy at first, being a female in a male's world, but when she showed she could lug the heavy stuff, was as good on a bike or horse as any of the blokes, and most important could turn the air as blue as any of them with some well placed swearing, she became accepted. The males gave her the privacy of a screened off area in the bunkhouse, and she got her own shower, but that was it.
Macka eyes the group.
"Jonesey, you take Sonno, Phil and Craig and head out to the west border. According to the boys in the chopper, that fire out there last month pretty much f***ed everything for about 20K. There's been a drop of supplies out there so you wont need anything else. Grab a bike each and f*** off. The rest of you lot, come with me. We're off north. We'll meet up in the Northwest corner in 3 days and see how it's going. Any whines, bitches, moans or complaints? No? Right, let's get to it."
Mounting the quad, Sonno eyes the area. This is real outback Queensland. dust, dust and cows. Lots of em. Turns the key, thumbs the starter and follows Jonesey and Craig off into the red dust, Phil close behind.
It's not easy to talk much driving through Red Dust so thick you could carve it. Sonno pulls the collar of her shirt up and pulls the helmet visor fully down. It's about 3 hours before they reach their work site. These Queensland cattle stations aren't hobby farms, you know. As per Macka's comment at the work briefing there's a food drop, several huge rolls of fencing wire and some wooden posts of various thicknesses. Also some water, fuel and tents.
Jonesey quickly lays down the law.
"Sonno, head up the fence line. take this Satellite Phone and binocs. Do a bit of scouting. Check some of the posts and see what we're dealing with. Craig, set up the camp. Phil, you come with me."
"No Worries, Jonesey." Sonno grabs a couple of canteens from the dump and rides off along the fence line towards a large crop of gums on the horizon.
Reaching the crop of gums, a huge flock of Major Mitchells take off, screeching their disapproval at the arrival of the noisy quad bike. Not far away a pair of red roos look on quizzically. Turning off the engine, Sonno dismounts, grabs the Akubra and removes the helmet. Having a quick swig from one of the canteens, she climbs a small rock outcrop and surveys the area.
"Looks solid around here. Hell those trees aren't even burned. But over there... Now that looks bad." The binocs swing around to the north and pick up several blackened fence posts, some of which have collapsed, bringing down the three wire fence with them. "Yeah Jonesey's not going to be happy with that. F*** it. That's a LOT of work."
Being Australia, there's no shortage of flying insects. Being country Australia, you'd almost call it a plague. The time honoured Australian Salute to shoo the flies is something known by every Australian. With that many flies, who'd notice if one looked a little different? Sonno scans a little further up the line, murmuring to herself: "At LEAST 20 poles down... " Hack, cough. A 'fly' gets into the mouth. Again not unusual for Australians. But this time...
"Damn flies!!! F***in things..." spit cough. Grabs the canteen. Swigs. "Yeah think I got it..."
Sonno grabs the satellite phone presses the button for the one Jonesey has. And waits... and waits. "The hell's that joker doing?" Presses the button for Craig, for Phil... Nothing.
Looks up at the sky. Nothing, but... wait, what the hell is THAT?
Blackness, enveloping. Sonno sleeps.
She wakes. Rough, almost stone like texture below her. What sounds like a voice murmuring. Stirs. Rubs eyes, Sits up.
Standing up, a little unsteady, looking out at what looks like a picture of the Earth from the Moon. But the Earth has a blackish haze. "Oook, this is verrrry strange. I have GOT to stop smoking that Hydroponic shit..."
Then two figures. White clad woman. Black clad man. Either side of her. More murmuring. Sonno hears, she listens. She decides. Then almost as soon as it starts it ends. Sonno awakes.
"What the f*** was that?"
Looks around. It's Queensland again. reaches for the dropped canteen. Blue sparks, recoils. "WHAT. THE. F***!"
Jumps back on the Quad. Wont start.
"Come on you bastard. Come on!!!"
Splutters, starts, Sonno gasses it and roars back to the camp. Empty... No-one, nothing. But a huge pile of black, oil like goo.
A sound, a groan, a scream. 3 figures, all black, all vaguely human. What is that in their hair?
"Jonesey, Craig, Phil?" *cocks rifle* Nothing but groans and strange eyes. looking up at her. Running. Bang, Bang...
What must have been Craig drops like a stone. and dissolves. a black puddle spreading. Bang. Down drops what could have been Phil. More goo.
Jonesey lunges, knocking Sonno back, she rolls and fires, one bullet hits. Jonesey groans and staggers. Re-cock. Too late. Jonesey jumps, Both hit the sand and roll. Sonno lands in the black goo.
"Ah bugger, bugger that BURNS it Burns!!!"
Jonesey is slow to recover. Rifle too far. Grabs a fence post, swings. Jonesey melts. Sonno rolls away... looks at her arms, covered in the black oil. Aside from a mild burn, feeling no discomfort.
"I am OUT of here"
Roars off on the quad after refuelling. Back at the station 3 hours later. Getting dark now. Deserted.
"OK this is VERY not good..." Phone call.
With understandable trepidation, she answers. A male voice, cultured English Accent: "Good Evening Miss Collins. My name is Richard Sonnac."
So what do you think? Some may not like the staccato style, but that's how I roll when it comes to writing. I know maybe a touch long, but I did want to get it all down. Let me know. Feel free to slag it if you want.
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