Matt Eaton - Blank

“Rooms one, two and three – out the door and turn left.”

He nodded and left. With the transaction complete, he had no interest in further conversation. Mel moved to follow but the woman tapped her on the arm.

“Look, it’s none of my business, but you oughta watch yourself round here with him. You’re gonna ruffle some feathers. Black and white feathers, if you get me. People tend to keep to their own kind around here.”

Mel stared at the woman incredulously, wondering what century they had landed in. She left without bothering to respond. For once, words failed her.

The motel’s eponymous view took in the full majesty of the Todd River ditch, complete with local blackfellas lounging in the well-worn shade of a tree-lined riverbank. Luckman flicked light switches on and off. Sure enough, they all worked.

“Separate rooms? You worried someone will see us together?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just had a lovely chat with our hostess. She suggested you and I might start a riot or something if we go about holding hands. You up for it?”

“She’s an idiot. Ignore her.”

“Nice trick with the credit card, by the way. How’d you pull that one off?”

He shrugged. “Something weird is going on. You see anything out of place on the drive over here?”

“Alice gets my vote for tidy town,” said Mel.

“Is it possible they escaped the effects of the Sunburst?”

“No, there’s more to it than that.” He handed her a room key. “Look here’s the thing: I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

She smiled impishly. “Sounds like an invitation.”

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t want you to think you have to stay up with me. In fact, it might be better if you don’t.”

Undaunted, she followed him into his room. He didn’t object. She bounced on the bed, turned the kettle on and checked the lights like a child with a button fetish. She tested the water in the bathroom.

“It’s hot. I might have a shower.”

It sounded sexy the way she said it.

“You can do that next door.”

“Spoilsport.”

“I need to scope this place out. Stay indoors for the time being will you?”

She was a sweet distraction but he kept trying to remind himself the US was on the brink of nuclear war. If the Americans were skittish they would be curious about his arrival. They might even decide to come after him. If so, it would likely be at night.

His room was at the front of the L-shaped building, the entry door facing an internal parking bay. He escorted Mel to her door then began to casually scout the layout of the rest of the two-storey motel complex, trying to maintain the appearance of a curious tourist, albeit one who was clearly a serving member of the Australian Army. Keeping to the lengthening shadows of the late afternoon, he traversed a ground floor walkway that led to a pool at the rear of the complex.

Behind the pool was a garage and a storage shed. Beside this a path led to a rear street and a delivery car park. From here, he turned back to face the motel. The rooms along this part of the building were configured differently because they had no river view. A row of bathroom windows faced a brick wall that ran along the boundary of the property. He could slip down here easily at night. So could anyone else who wanted access to their rooms. But the entry point would have to be a window. Windows were easy enough to watch.

When he returned to their end of the complex he noticed the door to Mel’s room was ajar, the key still in the lock. She was passed out on the bed. He pulled the door closed, took her key and returned to his room, throwing himself wearily on the bed. It felt remarkably good. They had travelled a long way to a place that made no sense at all. He closed his eyes for a moment.

He found himself in an old tin-roofed shack. He could smell the age in the dusty, paint-peeled timber slat walls. But there was something strange about the place. He sat up on a rattling metal bedstead to find himself staring at a fly screen door. It was pitch black beyond the screen. Something was out there, he could feel it.

He heard a knock and everything went black. He opened his eyes. He was in the motel room again. It was dark outside.

He had fallen asleep.

How could he have been so stupid?

He became certain of someone else’s presence in the room. He plucked his revolver out of his pocket, leapt to his feet and stumbled drunkenly across to the door, fell against the back of it and grabbed the handle to pull it open. It was caught on something – an envelope was folded in half and shoved underneath. It acted like a door wedge. He pulled the door open further and then bent down to pick it up. He could see no-one in the outside corridor. Whoever made the delivery had quickly vanished.

He checked on Mel. She was still blissfully unconscious. Had they been drugged? It didn’t seem possible, unless it was something in the water supply. He stepped into her room, sat on the edge of her bed and ripped open the envelope. Inside was a note scrawled in pencil:

Bar Doppio Café, 9AM tomorrow

No mention of who issued the invite or why they wanted to meet him. He checked his watch – he’d been asleep for more than three hours. Mel moaned as she struggled to break through a funk of semi-consciousness.

He pulled out his mobile – five-bar signal strength – and phoned Bell. “Lock up the plane and get yourself in here. We’re at the Riverview Motel. There’s a cab rank out front. The cabs are still running. Don’t ask.”

Given Pine Gap was a massive telecommunications monitoring station it seemed reasonable to assume someone was listening to their conversation. Leaving the plane unguarded was a risk but he had to assume the normal airport security was in play. That meant no-one could go near the plane without being caught on camera. It also meant he couldn’t remove weapons from the hold without being spotted.

Luckman boiled the kettle and made strong coffees, pouring two satchels of International Roast into each of their cups.

“Wow, that really tastes terrible,” Mel complained.

“Drink up,” he insisted.

“It’s dark,” she noticed, rubbing her eyes drowsily and pulling a sour face as she took another mouthful of the nasty instant coffee. “What time is it?”

“About seven o’clock. I only just woke up myself.”

“You too?” she remarked, frowning.

“Yeah. Strange right?”

“I dunno, I’d say siestas are pretty normal around here.”

“This place is so normal it’s freaking me out,” said Luckman. “How come no-one seems the least bit curious about where we’ve come from? No-one has asked us a thing. I mean, here they are, miraculously sheltered from the greatest calamity in human history, and they don’t seem to realise it.”

“Or someone’s kept them in the dark.”

“Has anyone’s inner monologue seemed unusual?” he asked.

She stared at him blankly for a moment, still trying to wake up. Finally she shook her head.

“I got nothing today, although that’s telling in its own way. The cab driver was a blank – I mean she was vacant. Clearly she wasn’t ‘Blank’. There was nothing in her head but the road in front of her. The motel owner was preoccupied with her grandson and his wayward mother – oh, that’s it. The grandson’s half Aboriginal. She thinks her daughter made a huge mistake.”

“She’s probably right,” said Luckman. “That kid won’t know which way to turn in this town.”

“But it’s all completely banal. No-one’s at all concerned about the big picture.”

“They don’t know,” he decided.

It was another half an hour before Bell arrived. Luckman heard the cab pull up and walked out to meet him. The pilot dragged himself wearily from the taxi like he had just run a marathon. Luckman threw more dollars at the driver who nodded curtly and drove off.