Matt Eaton - Blank

“No-one can hear us down here,” Pat informed him.

Luckman was still wearing Pat’s sweat shirt. It had worked – he was soaked with perspiration. He pulled it off, enjoying the sensation of the cool air on his damp skin.

“A good place to hide from a nuclear attack,” Luckman noted.

“I reckon that was on the cards when Father Clarence built this place.”

“Maybe it still is,” Luckman replied.

“He owns all the houses up top – a dozen or so. That’s a secret, by the way,” said Pat.

“You mean as opposed to all of this down here?”

There was a laboratory at one end of the bunker. Scattered about the place were a variety of objects large and small, many covered with tarpaulins. One corner of the bunker had been set aside as a living space. The furniture was old and dilapidated. Pat parked himself on a couch and urged Luckman to take a seat.

“You must be good at keeping secrets,” Luckman decided.

Pat stared back at him impassively. “Blackfellas are perfect people to trust. No-one takes us seriously. Well, almost no-one.”

“I can’t speak for the Americans, but I’m fairly certain the Australian Government knows nothing about the Verus Foundation.”

“No-one knows about us. That’s why we still exist.”

“How much do you know about me?” Luckman asked him.

“I been following you since you left Brisbane. In the chair.

“Then you know I’m not with Greenpeace anymore.”

Pat smiled knowingly. “Uniform’s a bit of a giveaway.”

“Do you know why I’m here?”

Pat nodded. “I used the chair to backtrack your progress. You can blow the shit outa Pine Gap as far as I’m concerned.”

Shearer’s operation was starting to look like the worst kept secret in military history.

“It’s easier said than done but,” Pat told him.

“Aren’t you worried I’m going to spill the beans about the Verus Foundation?”

“Time this cat was let out of the bag.”

“After more than half a century of secrecy you’re suddenly ready to reveal all.”

“Not me. Father Clarence. The man who turned up dead right after you arrived.”

A coincidence clearly not lost on either of them.

“So what exactly have you been getting up to down here?”

Pat tipped his head back in the direction of the lab bench. “Inventions, experiments. This place runs off its own zero-point energy system.”

“Is it big enough to power the town?” asked Luckman.

Pat laughed. “If we were doing that the whole world would already know, eh? The town’s on the normal power supply.”

For a moment Luckman thought Pat was trying to be funny. “Pat, there IS no town power. There’s been no electricity generation since the cataclysm – anywhere.”

Pat’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

“Why didn’t Father Clarence tell you that ?”

“He wasn’t himself when he came back. He was talkin’ about the ocean rising. But we’re a long way from the coast.”

“Came back from where?”

“From them. They helped ‘im.”

“I thought you said they killed him.”

“Yeah.”

“Which is it?”

“Both.”

“How does that work?”

“He lost all his memories. Not amnesia… something worse. Like he was a child or something. He couldn’t even talk. Didn’t recognise me or anyone else.”

“He went Blank.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“When did you say this was?”

“Few days ago.”

“Can you be more precise?”

“Not really. Three, four days maybe.”

“Since he came back?”

“No, since it happened.”

Luckman realised Pat was in the same trance as the rest of the town.

“Did anyone else go Blank like Father Clarence?”

“Not that I know of. Why?”

Luckman sighed. “There’s been a bit of it going around.”

“I never seen anything like it. Didn’t know what to do. Knew the hospital would just lock ‘im in a loony bin.”

“So you took him to the Others.” Pat said nothing. “You trusted them. You had no way of knowing they’d kill him. What have you been doing since then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, the Verus Foundation was working in partnership with the Others. Whatever’s happening in this town is down to them.”

“We haven’t had time.”

Luckman was getting frustrated. “Unless you’ve been in a coma you’ve had plenty of time. The Sunburst occurred two months ago.”

Pat stared at him with the expression of a man trying hard to remember something he knew he’d forgotten.

“OK, let’s change tack,” said Luckman. “What do you know about the fate of the rest of the world?”

Pat shrugged again. “I know it’s bad. I know planes have stopped flying. Everyone else in town is ignoring it. Like I say there’s been no time to…” He stopped himself from reciting the line automatically. “I always end up finding more important things to worry about. Like you.”

“You’ve never stopped to ask yourself who’s keeping the lights on and restocking the supermarkets.”

He shrugged. “You saying it’s not Woolworths?”

It was like he’d been brainwashed. “A moment ago you said Father Clarence came back. Where from?”

Pat stood up. “I meant his mind came back.”

Now he was being evasive. “Where did they take him?”

“Wish I knew.”

That was a flat-out lie. Pat walked over to the lab bench and began toying with a perspex vial of white powder.

“Listen, I need to know,” Luckman persisted. “It’s really important.”

“I dunno how they did it,” Pat admitted, shaking the vial.

The powder inside began to glow like phosphorescent snow.

It might have been nothing more than a high-school chemistry trick but the glow kept growing in intensity. It was captivating.

“What is that stuff?” asked Luckman.

“Monatomic gold. We use it to run our power system.”

“Doesn’t look like gold.”

“It’s gold that’s been broken down to an atomic powder.”

Luckman felt he’d like to know more but right now it was very much a secondary concern.

Pat stared into space like he was trying to remember something. “The Others took Clarence somewhere we couldn’t follow.”

“Pine Gap’s not exactly Alcatraz,” replied Luckman. “The base security’s good but it’s a massive perimeter. I could…”

“They took him somewhere else. Long way away.”

“What if I was to ask Pao…”

Pat threw up a hand. “Don’t say that fella’s name.”

“Why not?”

“That bugger always seems to know when someone speakin’ his name. Always drops in when he’s not wanted. We just call him PF.”

Luckman smiled inwardly. Finally he was getting somewhere. Whatever was tampering with people’s minds had not wiped Pat’s memory completely. Perhaps this bunker offered some degree of protection. “OK, PF it is. Who is he? What is he?”

“He lives in Rome – at the Vatican. Under the Pope’s protection.”

Luckman laughed derisively. “I really don’t get you people.”

“He knows things. About the church. Dangerous things no-one supposed to know.”

“Mel says he’s really old.”

Pat appeared impressed by this insight. “You ever heard of the Nephilim?”

“They were the children of mortal women who slept with fallen angels – if I remember my Old Testament.”

“Genesis says the Nephilim were on Earth when the sons of God were getting jiggy with the daughters of men.”

“There’s a translation you don’t hear in Sunday school,” Luckman told him. “So who exactly are the sons of God?”