Episode 3 — Rhino
The Land Inbroken · Chapter 3
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Gary Keemon pushed the starter button. A satisfying thunder shook the cabin as the SUV roared into life. He’d been in one of the Rhinos a few times now, but only as a passenger. He’d always been impressed with their ruggedness and power. Not to mention being able to go anywhere, impervious to attack. You could drive right over a group of jerks trying to outrun the beast with the distinctive black star on its side and just feel a few bumps as the bones crunched. He smiled. Ah, this was going to be good!
As one of the farmers with a Voice contract, Terry Osborne lived near town. This maximised the benefits of his trade while falling within the ambit of Voice security, a big consideration for protecting crops from the gangs.
Keemon edged the Rhino from the police station onto York Street and passed Dyall’s Ford Royal Memorial Hospital, heading for the Great Northern Road out of town that would take him to his destination. It only took a few minutes to gain familiarity with the controls; soon, man meshed with machine and they settled into a powerfully burbling vector bearing down on Osborne’s farm.
He glanced at the hospital in passing, his mouth twisting at its deterioration. Even before The Changes struck, various governments, state and federal, had promised upgrades as far back as folks could remember, but health had always taken a back seat to more pressing issues. And now with things gone to hell, whole wings were shuttered, even where lights still shone many of the windows were missing or cracked.
So, the town had limped on with a hospital erected in the nineteen twenties. All the same, those who’d been within its walls — and that was most of The Changes-affected townsfolk at some stage — knew that behind the flaking-paint weatherboards and rusted, corrugated iron roof a small but skilled and dedicated staff soldiered on regardless.
For now, the Great Northern could still be safely driven out as far as Osborne’s; much further and you’d have to navigate the foresters clearing fallen timber away where fires had burnt through, and the road surface rapidly deteriorated from then on. Not that that would make much difference to this monster on wheels.
He turned in through the well-maintained gates and followed the recently graded gravel road to the homestead. The house itself was large and likewise well cared for. Keemon ground his teeth. Why should Osborne be doing fine when a cop like him — a field commander now — lived in a comparative dump in town?
He gunned the engine and executed a sideslipping, gravel-scattering burnout right up to the white picket fence that ran neatly around the house, parking across its small gate just close enough that anyone trying to come out would have a hard time getting past the Rhino’s bulk. Of course, it made his own job of getting into the property more difficult, but it was worth it: farmers or their lookouts were always on the alert for visitors. Keemon’s point would be made.
He got out, slammed the door and squeezed through the gate just as John Bowman came out the front door and walked down the verandah steps to leave.
“Just the convict I’ve been looking for!”
Bowman pulled up short at the foot of the verandah. “What about?” He hurried to add, “Senior Sergeant.”
Keemon strode straight up and stood so close the younger man was forced to put a foot back on the last step. The cop’s jaw jutted forward.
“Actually, it’s Field Commander Keemon to you, as of this morning.”
“Wow, things move fast in your world.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. “Little smartarse, you need to be taught respect!” His index finger stabbed Bowman’s chest; John made a grab for the handrail behind him with one hand as he instinctively formed a fist with the other.
“Yeah, okay, what can I do for you, Field Commander?”
Keemon’s mouth half opened to answer when he was interrupted by Terry Osborne.
“Is there a problem, John?”
Keemon scowled at the farmer. “I was waiting for you to show, Osborne. This punk you’ve been hiring is wanted for questioning. I’m taking him in.”
“Really, on what charges?”
“That’s none of your business. Just slink back inside your pretty little house where you belong and let the law get on.”
“You’re not the law, Keemon. You’re just a thug hired by the law to do the jobs any decent man would turn his back on.” Osborne slapped Bowman’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate. You can go.”
John made to push past the cop, who shoved the finger in his chest again.
“Don’t you listen to him, I’m the law here.”
Terry Osborne came down the steps and stood alongside the younger man. His eyes turned steely.
“Don’t take orders from a vigilante, John. You’re new to town so I’ll tell you this: any of the Boys in Blue are likely to be okay. Any of the ones in this black getup are just the hard men hired by Superintendent Morden to do his dirty work. You need pay them little respect.”
“He says he’s a field commander.”
Osborne threw his head back and laughed. “Really?” He glared at Keemon. “You’re shitting me? Old Morden must be getting desperate.”
“I don’t think so, Osborne. He’s just getting smarter with age. And he’s the one who sent me here to bring this kid in for questioning.”
“Morden’s always been smarter than you, Keemon. Same as I have. And you’re not taking John in like this; I don’t trust you. Too many good folks have gone missing, and it won’t happen to anyone I know if I can help it. John’s an honest kid, he’ll come to the station under his own steam. Isn’t that true, John?”
“Sure! I’ll go there as soon as I get back to town.”
Osborne turned to Keemon. “You hear that? I’ll vouch for the lad, and I’ll have a word to Barry Morden about this; he’ll understand. After all, our farm is one of the few left to supply the town. No matter what you say, he won’t want to upset folks if I withhold supply coz I can’t get the work done here. Isn’t that right, Gary?”
He clapped John gently on the shoulder. “So, just go, okay?”
John slid through the narrow gap between the gate post and Keemon; the cop elbowed him and glared at the farmer.
“Your day’s coming, Osborne.”
“Maybe so, but it isn’t today.”
The farmer watched Bowman’s slender frame slip past the SUV and glowered back at the cop. “And get that goddamned penis substitute off my property with you inside it, now!”
* * *
John waved flies off the screen door and closed it securely behind him. He went into the kitchen to find Jessie working at the table. She had her back turned and he couldn’t see what it was holding her attention.
“Bloody hell, I need a drink! I just ran into that vigilante cop, Keemon, out at Terry’s place.”
Jessie wheeled around. “Really, are you okay?”
“Yeah, he’s an aggressive shit though; luckily Terry came along to back me up or there would have been punches thrown. And I think I might have come off worst; that Keemon’s a big bastard.”
Jessie looked him up and down. “So, no damage, then?”
“Nope, but I sure could do with a drink. Any of that beer left?”
“No, not here. But Hugh invited us over to try his new home brew. Do you want to go?”
John bit his lip. They’d gotten to know Hugh Godswold when they were living out of town, before the gangs pushed closer in, too close for comfort. Godswold was strange, in fact, John thought him a nutcase. Big and muscly, he was known as something of a back blocks hippie, with his long, greasy hair spilling out below a battered ex-army hat.
An okay guy then, but flaky. No matter how hard he tried to find the man’s good points, there was something about Hugh Godswold that always made John feel ill at ease. Besides, he didn’t like the growing friendliness between him and Jessie. Getting away from the man had been one of John’s motivations for moving in from the bush.
So, this fresh communication between Godswold and Jessie worried him. It would have been face to face, as neither he nor Jessie used mobile phones now — what with the difficulties of battery charging and getting a decent connection anywhere, it was a mostly pointless exercise. To cap it off, the cops eavesdropped on all calls, a simple surveillance task given there were only a few functional comms lines to monitor.
“When did you see him?”
“In town.”
“You walked into town?” They only had one car, Jessie’s coupe, and it had been with John all day on Osborne’s farm.
“It’s only a short walk; quite nice really. Anyway, I met him at a Permaculture rally. It was interesting, you should go next time they have one.”
“Hugh Godswold came into town? That’s brave of him. Terry Osborne advised me against getting too close to Hugh because the cops have him in their sights, and Terry certainly isn’t afraid of cops.”
“Yeah, Hugh is a bit out there, but he’s okay. I like his ideas. If the cops don’t like him, it’s because he thinks and behaves independently; they can’t control him.”
“Sounds like the guy is starting to grow on you. I’ll have to put a stop to that!” John came up close behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He bent forward and nibbled her neck. She moved away slightly, but she was smiling. It was all part of the little game.
John’s nose traced up Jessie’s neck and he planted a kiss in her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He loved the way her hair smelled. She kept it clean and brushed always, never mind the scarcity of water, and not to mention ancient luxuries like shampoo. They made their own soap now and they’d forgotten what shampoo was like anyway.
Opening his eyes, he saw what she’d been working on at the table, a small basket of eggs that she’d been arranging according to colour. It was her way: ordered and precise. Not like him, all over the place in a chaos of coping.
“Where did you get the eggs?”
They had no money, and folks wouldn’t want it anyway. Money had fallen into disuse; most people had forgotten how much any given amount could buy. Some had even forgotten what it was used for but kept the pretty little pieces of paper for reasons they could never explain. Maybe they hoped to someday remember what they were.
At any rate, their hens weren’t laying right now, and eggs were a luxury.
She turned her head and smiled.
“At the DRC. I worked a morning there and got these as payment.”
“Well done! We haven’t had eggs for ages.”
“Yeah, and these are so beautiful. Best eggs I’ve ever laid eyes on!”
“Oh really?” John’s hands slid up her front and cupped her breasts. “What about mine?”
She reached behind and grabbed his crotch.
“Yours? Those ugly, hairy, stupid things! What use are they? We can’t eat them.”
John hardened as she fondled him. “No, they’re off the food menu. But if you come upstairs…” He snickered into her neck.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’ve got better things to do than discuss eggs.”
This time he bit her softly on the neck. She bent away slightly, but her eyes closed and she continued to toy with HIS eggs, one hand now coaxing his engorged penis. He kept nuzzling.
“Well, you’re still playing with them.”
“I just like the way the little dragon rears up to protect its eggs.” She turned; her hand still wrapped firmly around his member. They kissed long and deep. Never letting go of the tamed dragon she led him gently upstairs to the bedroom.
* * *
Later, as the sun set through their bedroom window, he played with the crucifix lying on her chest. He knew, or at least thought he knew, she wasn’t religious.
He leaned close and inhaled her intoxicating scent of after-sex sweat. He held the little cross up in the sun’s dying rays.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was a gift. A long time ago.” She shook it from his hand to fall between her breasts and held his splayed fingers to her opened lips one by one.
Someone, probably another lover, had given her something she treasured enough to keep. But he ignored the pang of jealousy this brought; he wanted to talk.
“Jess?”
“Yes?”
“Terry Osborne told me something really strange. It worried me. Terry’s normally level-headed, but he seemed somehow different today.”
“How? What did he say?”
“He said I probably wouldn’t believe him, and frankly, I don’t. He said he’d seen a dragon.”
If he’d shocked her, it didn’t show. She just looked faraway and murmured, “yes, he’s not the only one. Lots of folks have reported that.”
“But he said he’d seen a big light shining out of the ground, from a hole the dragon flew out of, and there was a bunch of other stuff coming out of the hole, like there was some other world beneath the earth and it was breaking through!”
“I’ve heard similar from other people. I’m not sure what to make of it, either. But I’m inclined to believe them because the ones I’ve spoken to are certainly not crazy. Just like your Terry. And let’s face it, the way this world’s going, anything’s possible.”
John’s face scrunched. “Seriously? Wow, that’s even weirder, hearing that you believe them!”
“I didn’t say I believed them, but I’m not going to dismiss what they say out of hand either. Anyway, I’m fascinated by dragons. They’re a bit like enormous eagles, and I’ve always loved eagles!” She looked over expectantly through the curtainless bedroom window as though one might suddenly appear in the far distance.
When John put a hand on her shoulder her eyes refocused and she said, “But I do think it’s time we started to think about leaving this place. The cops are getting really feral like you say, and we might as well take our chances someplace else, if we can find one safer than this.”
“Safer than here? I don’t know of any place like that. Do you?”
“No, but I know a couple of ways to find out. Dylan De Saunt has a ham radio that still works. He’s trying to contact folks. If he’s successful, maybe he can find somewhere safer than Dyall’s Ford.”
John rolled away from her and stared at the ceiling. “That’s a shame, I was just getting used to this house. And anyway, if we do leave, how do we know we’ll be better off. Chances are we’ll be even more exposed, more vulnerable, and we won’t have weapons.”
Jessie pulled his face around and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve been thinking about it; I have some ideas.”
“What ideas?”
“Let’s not talk about it now, I’m kind of enjoying this moment,” she said with a sleepy smile. “But I think a visit out to Hugh Godswold’s tomorrow will be a good place to start. Dylan’s almost certain to be there, so I can get his help with the housing issue. And even if he isn’t there, we can still pick Hugh’s brains about a few things.”
Her eyes drifted away, and John wondered if it was just after-sex euphoria or something else, something to do with Godswold. He bowed his head in the soft folds of her chest to bury a frown.
* * *
Gary Keemon drove back from Osborne’s farm in a fury so complete he barely noticed when the Rhino began to rock in a strange, gusting wind. He’d been engrossed in the idea of getting even with Osborne, not to mention that little prick Bowman.
It wasn’t until the vehicle lifted momentarily from the ground and its massive tyres lost traction that he came back to the present and struggled for control of the steering column. He slammed on the brakes and the Rhino skidded into gravel at the road’s edge before barrelling over an embankment to finally pull up in a small ditch.
He clambered out, handgun drawn, waving both arms to clear the red dust storm that swirled around him. He peered into the distance where the air churned in a vortex stretching away towards Dyall’s Ford. It looked like someone had pulled a plug in the sky, causing the atmosphere to swirl round the resultant hole and drain through it.
Keemon angrily levelled his automatic at the centre of the vortex and fired until it clicked empty. It was a pitiful effort against the screeching melee, one that seemed to backfire as some massive, eagle-like bird wheeled about and headed back out of the tunnel towards him.
At first, he slammed another clip into the gun and re-aimed. But as the creature drew closer and he realised this was no ordinary eagle, the cop dived under the Rhino. He crawled to the front just under the engine and trained his pistol on the rapidly approaching airborne beast.
The creature grew more monstrous in appearance and size as it drew nearer, but with all the dust its massive wings fanned about the road in front of the Rhino it was impossible to draw a steady bead on. The cop held his fire as it flapped thunderously overhead and vanished somewhere in the hazy distance to the rear of the Rhino.
When the noise died and the dust settled, Keemon crawled out and shakily dragged himself into the cabin. The back of his skull slapped against the leather headrest as he stared vacantly at the grimy windscreen, breathing open-mouthed in short, savage gasps. He’d heard reports of dragons but was this a confirmed sighting? Nah, couldn’t be, he reasoned. After all, his vision had been impaired by all the airborne muck; he couldn’t tell for sure.
He sat for some indeterminate time thinking about it, until at last common sense returned. His breathing steadied and he stopped shaking. He looked into the face reflecting from the rear-view mirror and murmured, “Get a grip old buddy, you’ve just seen a bloody great wedge-tailed eagle in a dust storm, that’s all.”
But he still felt as though some monster might at any moment rear up to pounce, and he kept scanning all around to ensure the threat wasn’t coming back. At length he sucked air in and swore hard, punched the padded dashboard once and gunned the massive engine back to life. He churned the Rhino up the embankment and scorched down the road just under the machine’s safe limit all the way into town.
***
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