‘I know, Dad. I have them, too. But isn’t that the point? The fire can destroy our home but it can’t destroy our memories,’ replied Jess, a tear welling in her eye as she put her arm around her dad — her invincible father who had been a tower of strength her whole life.
John choked back the lump in his throat, determined not to let himself be consumed by emotions. ‘Yep, I guess you’re right, Jessie-girl,’ he patted her back tenderly.
Jess wasn’t going to choke anything back. The tears welled up and spilled down her cheek, the corners of her mouth quivering and pulling down. She tucked her head into the side of John’s chest as he put his big arm around her shoulder.
‘I remember you and your brother playing out here for hours. You two used to fight like cats and dogs, but if either one of you got hurt or was in trouble, you were always there for each other. Do you remember when your brother broke his ankle when you two were out tearing around down the drive?’
‘Yeah, I remember,’ Jess replied, her voice quivering through her tears. ‘He was being an idiot, trying to climb that big old tree down the driveway.’
‘That’s right. But when he fell, you piggybacked him all the way back to the house. I remember standing on the veranda here and seeing you coming down the drive, carrying your brother.’ John continued, tears in his eyes and a smile on his face. ‘You were both crying like mad, but my God, I knew you two would always be there for one another. I knew that so long as you two were together out on the farm, or anywhere for that matter, you’d be fine.’ John swallowed hard, resisting the urge to wipe his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness in front of his daughter, his only surviving child, his only family.
Jess smiled at the memory, her face damp with tears, eyes glazed and distant, looking over the ruined homestead that lay before them.
‘It’s funny,’ said John, regaining control of his emotions, ‘I actually thought of that moment the other day, when you brought Finn in from the desert, all shot-up and dying.’
‘I think Aaron would have liked Finn. They have a similar way, don’t you think, Dad?’ Jess said, looking up at her father.
John smiled. ‘Yes, Jessie. Yes, I do.’
They stood there until the light was squeezed from the sky by the sinking sun. They talked a bit more, but mostly they stood and simply remembered in silence.
Looking over the smouldering remains, Finn guessed that the Chinese had been in a hurry, as they had not bothered to stay and see that the building had fully caught alight. The sheds were relatively unscathed, while the homestead was partially gutted, but not completely.
That night they slept in the shed. Sleeping mats on the hard concrete floor took the edge off, but it was not the most comfortable of nights. In the morning they all woke feeling achy and cold. Finn felt like he had a hangover, his head pounding, mouth dry and feeling nauseous. It was dehydration again. His body had still not recovered from the ordeal with the Chinese, and yesterday he’d barely drunk anything.
The large shed they slept in had a fully-kitted kitchen that was used by the farm hands at times throughout the year, when the cattle were brought in.
Over breakfast, Finn was distant. Both John and Jess noticed it but didn’t say anything. Something was clearly on his mind — Finn had never been good at masking when he was deep in thought.
After they had eaten, Finn went outside. He stared out to the mountain range in the distance. Finn reflected on how, if Jess had not found him in the desert and brought him back here, he would in all likelihood have died. If they had not attacked the Chinese transportation in the area, the Chinese would not have gone on reprisal attacks. He did not feel guilty for what he had done; he did not regret anything. But he did feel some sense of responsibility. Any which way he looked at it, he felt responsible for his actions.
Jess joined him outside on the veranda. ‘Hey, you all right there, Finn? You seem pretty distant today,’ she said with a worried smile.
‘Oh hey,’ he said, her presence pulling him out of his thoughts. ‘Yeah. I’ve just been thinking about a few things.’
‘I just want to thank you for what you did yesterday,’ Jess said, her voice husky with emotion. ‘You were really amazing out there. We really appreciate it. I, um… I really appreciate it.’
Finn looked at Jess, his face softening under her gaze. ‘It’s nothing, no problem at all — God, I owe you my life. It was really the least I could do.’
Jess smiled and blushed, breaking her gaze from Finn’s eyes.
‘I actually have something to ask, something that would mean a lot to me,’ said Finn seriously. ‘I want to stay and help you guys rebuild the homestead.’
‘You don’t need to do that. It’s not your fault,’ said Jess, genuinely shocked at his offer.
‘No, I know, but I want to help. My parents know I’m safe, the army doesn’t know where I am — in fact, they probably think I’m dead. Besides, once you guys are back in the house, I can go back to the fighting.’
‘Finn, no. We really can’t ask you to do that.’
‘You’re not asking me. I’m telling you that’s what I want to do. Please, Jess… I want to help,’ Finn said, looking at Jess pleadingly.
‘I… well, I guess… I don’t know Finn, are you sure?’ she asked, her forehead crinkling with concern. ‘Dad and I could really do with some help. He can’t do it all on his own and I don’t think there are many builders who will come all the way out here — especially with our current neighbours.’
‘Jess, please. I want to help. It would be good to create something rather than running around destroying,’ said Finn earnestly.
‘Well, so long as it’s okay with Dad,’ said Jess.
‘Okay, great. Well, I’ll be over at the house then,’ said Finn awkwardly.
Halfway to the house, the blue heeler from the day before ran over to greet him, tail wagging furiously. Finn bent down to pat him with a wry smile. ‘Cheeky bugger. You scared the shit out of me, but don’t tell the others. Okay?’
Chapter 17
After the horrific attack on the Sydney Harbour Bridge, General Stephens was inundated with calls from politicians and lobbyists insisting that Australia lay down its arms against the Chinese and to let them continue mining the land in peace.
He had spent the last five days staying at Kirribilli House, overseeing the clean-up of the Harbour Bridge with barely any sleep. Sitting now at his desk back in SOF, shirt collar undone, sleeves rolled up, he felt the familiar, nagging exhaustion that had been with him since the first day he took over the country. He looked like a very different man from the immaculately dressed, square-jawed commander of the Silent Coup.
Fletcher knocked and walked into the room.
General Stephens looked up immediately. ‘Jesus Christ, Fletch! What the hell do we do?’ he gestured at his screen, showing the clean-up of the wreckage of the bridge in real time. ‘We can’t win this war without plunging Australia into the Dark Ages. I’ve got every bloody lobbyist and pollie knocking down my door, demanding we immediately withdraw our forces.’
Fletcher sighed and sat down in the chair facing Stephens’ desk. ‘I hate to say it, Marty, but I don’t think there’s much more we can do.’
‘It can’t end like this though, Fletch — too many people have died, too many have sacrificed too much. We can’t just throw in the towel when the going gets tough,’ said Stephens, dropping his clenched fist on the desk.
‘Marty, I know,’ Fletcher replied. ‘But a lot more innocent people will die if we continue with this strategy. It was always a gamble. We were always at the mercy of the Chinese, and them being true to their word.’