Matt Eaton - Blank

“This is Alpha two seven five,” Bell answered.

“Alpha two seven five, you are cleared to land on runway one-zero, over.”

“One-zero, roger.”

Bell looked at Luckman. “He sound American to you?”

“No,” Luckman admitted. “He’s Australian.”

The Yanks couldn’t fake an Aussie accent to save themselves.

“What are we doing here Captain?”

“I told you. We’re here to re-establish communications with the joint defence facility.”

It was possible the airport ATC was an Australian soldier or an ASIO operative controlling the airspace at the bidding of the US military. It would be safe to assume the Americans were maintaining air security around their precious base. They would need Alice Springs airport to service Pine Gap. There were no domestic flights any more. Airlines had ceased to exist. The Sunburst’s electromagnetic assault crippled commercial airliners and on that day they had plummeted from the sky in their thousands. Military planes such as the General’s jet were shielded for EMP impact as a precaution against nuclear attack.

“So what’s the plan?” Bell asked him.

Good question. “Let’s just get down there and settle in. We’ll take it from there. But I’m gonna need you to stay with the plane for the time being.”

“Sure. You want me to try to refuel?”

“Not unless it’s critical. I have no way of knowing whether the fuel supply here is secure.”

“We should be fine for the trip home.”

“Then no more fuel. With a bit of luck we’ll be leaving inside 24 hours. I don’t want any foul ups.”

Bell heard the note of concern and saw the troubled expression on his face. “What are you worried about?”

“Being caught off guard.”

“Shit happens.”

“Yes, but what kind of shit and how much of it is there?”

“Always plenty of that to go round in my experience,” Bell told him.

“They told me the satellite uplink still functions perfectly. I’m guessing that means the mobile phone tower out there is fine too. You’ll be able to call me if you need to.”

Luckman expected a squad of soldiers to be waiting for them, but they landed without incident. There was no sign of life across the open expanse of the air field. It was eerie. Bell taxied the Challenger to a corner of the tarmac about 100 metres from an exit. Safely parked, the pilot walked them to a gate in the perimeter fence where he punched a code into a security pad. The cyclone gate opened automatically.

Bell pulled out his mobile phone and checked it. “Good as gold – five bars,” he confirmed. “When you want to come back in, ring me and I’ll come and open the gate.”

Still no sign of a welcoming committee. They headed for the drop-off zone outside the main airport terminal. Luckman had never been to Alice Springs before, but he had seen on a map the airport was about 13 kilometres from the town centre. If there was no-one here to offer them a lift they might be forced to walk it.

The carpark was empty, but as it turned out, transport would not be a problem. A cab was waiting on a rank at the airport driveway. Luckman glanced at Mel, eyebrow raised, then stuck his head in through the open passenger window.

“You vacant?”

A leathery woman was behind the wheel sucking the marrow out of a cigarette. He saw her eyes widen momentarily as she registered that he was a blackfella, but one who also happened to be wearing an Army uniform.

“Sure love, hop in.”

Luckman opened the back door and ushered Mel into the car.

“Where y’off to?” she asked them.

“Can you recommend a motel? Close to town, not too expensive,” he told her.

“Yep. No worries.” She pulled off the rank and swung the cab north on the main highway.

“I’m surprised taxis are still running in Alice,” Mel noted.

“Petrol gettin’ expensive again in the city?”

“Petrol? What petrol?” Luckman muttered.

“What city?” Mel countered quietly.

“Wouldn’t live in the city if ya paid me,” said the cabbie.

“Looks like the Americans are keeping the town well supplied.”

“They keep to themselves. We do the same. I’ll just warn you though – we’re havin’ problems with the TV tower. No reception at the moment.”

“Been hearing much in the way of news?” asked Luckman.

“Dribs and drabs. You’ve had some big blackouts in the city, eh? We’re lucky here. Our power station runs on gas and diesel. Everything here still works. Except the bloody TV.”

“Wow that is lucky,” Luckman agreed breezily. He knew all too well the Alice Springs power station would have one thing in common with every other electricity generator in the world – it relied upon massive transformers to step up capacity to the necessary voltage for transmission down the lines and then to step it back down again for end users. Those transformers would have burnt out here just like they had burnt out everywhere else in the world. If the town had power it was coming from another source.

But he had no idea how the cab driver was filling her petrol tank.

The 10-kilometre ride into the centre of Alice took them through flat and barren countryside. It barely raised a flicker of interest for Luckman until they approached the town proper where the road passed through a gap in the stony mountain range skirting the town. It felt like passing through a gateway, as if somehow the land itself was welcoming him.

“Heavitree Gap. Sacred site for the local Abos,” the cabbie told them.

“I can see why,” Luckman replied.

“You do know ‘Abos’ is an offensive term these days, don’t you?” Mel informed the driver, who pretended not to hear.

“I’ve heard a lot worse,” Luckman admitted quietly.

The Riverview Motel delivered exactly what it promised – a view of the sandpit optimistically named the Todd River. Even in the wet season the rainfall in Alice was generally so low you were lucky to see more than a trickle flowing down the Todd.

Luckman forked out a fistful of dollars for the driver. The currency had ceased to be of any relevance in Brisbane. She accepted it happily.

“I need to head out to Pine Gap a bit later. You free?”

“Nope. Sorry love. Don’t do trips out of town. You’ll need to rent a car for that.” She took off before he could argue the point.

There were no signs of life in the motel’s front office. Mel rang a small bell on the counter.

“Cut it out will ya?” a woman screamed from a room behind the office. She appeared through a side entrance. “Oh. Sorry… I thought it was my grandson playing silly buggers. What can I do for you?”

“We’d like a room,” Mel told her.

“Two rooms,” Luckman corrected. “Actually, you better make that three. We’re expecting a friend.”

The woman was staring at him like he was the strangest thing she’d ever seen.

“Yes,” Mel responded, somewhat embarrassed. “Yes, sorry that’s what I meant.”

“Three rooms. They’re 100 dollars each. First day’s payment up front.”

“Of course. That won’t be a problem,” Luckman assured her.

“Good-oh then,” said the woman.

“You’re not full I take it?” he asked.

“It’s not tourist season.”

“I didn’t know Alice had seasons,” said Mel, somewhat facetiously.

“Yeah love, we’ve got bloody hot and bloody cold,” returned their host, breaking into a throaty cackle. “Gotcha credit card on ya?”

Luckman pulled out his wallet. Habit and nostalgia were the only things that had prompted him to bring it. He never dreamt he would actually use it. He pulled out a piece of plastic and handed it over. She flicked it past a pay-wave scanner in autonomous disinterest and seemed utterly unconcerned that nothing happened. She simply handed him back the card with three keys.