Feeling darkness tugging at him again, Finn let himself drift back into a deep, dreamless sleep, his body and mind still exhausted from the ordeal of the last few days.
He woke to the sound of people talking. Finn had no sense of time or place. He was just thankful to be alive and comfortable, despite the pain in his shoulder. Keeping still, opening his eyes only a crack, Finn wanted to listen and see the people first, before they knew he was awake. From what he could tell, there was a woman around his age and an older man on the other side of the room, talking in hushed tones.
Blinking, Finn focussed on their conversation. Slowly and quietly he pushed himself upright, careful not to make any sudden movements.
Though they were whispering, Finn could see they were in heated debate, still unaware that Finn was conscious.
Finn cleared his throat. The conversation stopped immediately. The couple turned their heads, staring at Finn.
‘Ah, hello,’ said the woman, smiling broadly at Finn while shooting the man a look that said ‘this isn’t over,’ as she walked over to the bed. ‘My name is Jess, and this is my father, John. I found you out in the desert two days ago. You were in a pretty bad state. You’ve been shot in the arm.’
Still feeling groggy and a little delirious, Finn started shakily. ‘Thank you, thank you very much. My name is Finn Hunt. I’m in the army. I was captured by the Chinese but managed to escape. I need to get back to a town or city.’
Finn squinted into her face, noticing her dark brown hair and tanned olive skin. She was looking sympathetically at him with large, soft brown eyes, which contrasted almost incongruously with her strong, defined cheekbones.
The old man, John, came over to the bed. His voice was rough like gravel, with a strong Australian twang. ‘You need to rest, young man. Besides, we can’t go anywhere right now. The Chinese have got patrols out everywhere and if they find you, we’re all in hot water.’
‘Dad’s right,’ Jess said, leaning against the foot of the bed. ‘Since the attacks you lot have been doing, the Chinese are out of control. They’ve been attacking towns and homesteads all over the place — we’ve been lucky so far.’
‘Can I have water?’ Finn whispered, his throat dry and parched.
‘Oh, yes. Of course. Jess rushed out of the room and returned with a glass of water, lifting it to Finn’s lips. ‘Sorry — here.’
Finn gulped greedily. Water had never tasted so good.
‘Are you hungry?’ asked Jess.
Thinking about it for a second, Finn realised that he was famished. ‘Yes, yes very.’ He’d barely finished speaking before she was out of the room, going towards the kitchen, he assumed.
John walked closer to the bed and called out, ‘Not too much, Jess. His body has been shut down for days.’ Turning back to Finn, he added, ‘and you go easy on the water to start with.’
Finn nodded, looking up at John. ‘Thank you for helping me. I understand that this is dangerous for you both. I will be on my way as soon as possible.’
‘That’s all right, mate,’ John said, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. ‘We’re happy to help out anyone who’s doing their bit to reclaim our land.’
‘Have you heard anything of the attacks? We were part of a much larger operation to destroy their transportation lines. Has anything been reported?’
John looked down at the floor. ‘Son, the only thing in the news at the moment is the attack on Sydney.’
‘Sydney? They attacked Sydney? What happened?’ stuttered Finn, unsure what he meant.
‘The Chinese sent a couple of jets down the harbour and blew up the bloody bridge. Killed 300 people, the bastards,’ John said, looking disgusted.
Finn stared up at the ceiling, mind reeling from what he had just heard. He couldn’t help but consider it fitting — he had been part of the operation to blow up one of their bridges and they retaliated by destroying the Sydney Harbour Bridge. He couldn’t help but feel responsible in some way.
‘My parents,’ he said, suddenly realising they could have been affected. ‘I’ve got to call home. I’ve got to see if they’re okay,’ said Finn quickly.
‘I’m sorry, the Chinese have shut down the phone and internet lines in these parts. We can only receive radio, but no transmission.’
Jess came back in carrying a tray. On it was a bowl of soup and two slices of toast, cut in half. ‘I’ve got veggie soup and toast. How does that sound?’
Finn looked away, a feeling of sickness creeping in at the realisation that his actions may have been partly to blame for the attack on the bridge. His mind spiralled out, trying to work out everything that had happened. What about his mates in the squad, what happened to them? Christ, Carver! He’d left his body there in the bush. The Chinese wouldn’t do anything with him, just leave him there to rot. His parents? Chris? His other friends? Innocent people being attacked in Sydney — what was happening? It wasn’t meant to be like this. It was supposed to be a war fought in the desert, not like this.
‘Finn, do you want to eat?’ repeated Jess, gently, looking at him with concern. Finn just continued to stare in front of him, eyes wide, not seeing her.
‘Leave him be Jessie,’ said John gently. ‘Come on.’ he put his hand on her shoulder to lead her out.
Finn lay there contemplating what had happened, confused and uncertain of everything he had fought for, wondering how far it would go, how many more innocent people would die for this barren desert that had nearly killed him. What was the point in continuing the fight?
Forcing himself to eat, he played with the food Jess had left. Sleep eventually took over again, but this time it was filled with horrific visions and dark dreams. Images of what he had seen and done, Carver’s head half blown-off, the river, the young Chinese bloke he’d shot in the back, his parents, people drowning under the bridge.
Finn slept fitfully the rest of the day and night, but the next day he woke feeling much better. Sitting up, he was able to ease his feet off the bed and onto the polished wooden floor. Slowly he stood, naked, looking around for his uniform. Noticing a pile of clothes on a chair, he dressed, gingerly guiding his wounded arm through the sleeve of the cotton shirt. Hunger was taking over now. He felt ravenous, his stomach hurting from the thought of food.
He shuffled out of the room, his right hand cradling his wounded arm against his stomach. Looking around the unfamiliar house, Finn could tell that it was big and old, but beautifully restored and maintained. He decided to go left. ‘Hello, anyone there?’ he called.
No answer. The house felt empty. Finn walked into a spacious lounge room, decorated comfortably with traditional furniture. The next room was clearly a bedroom. With a grin, Finn thought it must be Jess’s, judging by the underwear lying about.
Heading back down the hall, back the way he came, he went to the back of the house and found what he was looking for — the kitchen.
Opening the pantry door, Finn reached for a loaf of bread and thrust slices of it in his mouth, barely chewing. His mouth was still dry and he nearly gagged on it. Coughing painfully, he headed for the sink. Filling his hands with water, Finn bent over the sink and drank. Standing upright, face flushed, eyes watering, he looked out the window above the sink and saw Jess near a shed. She was brushing a chestnut horse, which stood motionless while she worked on its hind legs.
Taking another piece of bread, Finn went out the door, onto the veranda. ‘Hey there,’ he called, coughing again.
Jess looked up and came over to meet Finn between the house and the shed, still carrying the brush. She had a smudge of dust on her nose — she’d clearly been outside for some time. ‘You’re up. How’s the shoulder?’
‘Doesn’t exactly tickle, but it’s okay.’