Brownie pulls on my arm gently and motions back down the slope. That sounds
like a great idea to me and I wriggle down a bit and then jog back to the
car pretty darn fast. Holy Moses. I mean, there are ALIENS living in the
midst of us! Building some big alien base for God only knows what purpose.
I've got to tell someone. I mean, it can't be good, right? If they were
nice aliens, they would have contacted us, said hi, you know, maybe asked
permission. Dinner with the Prime Minister, maybe a ticker-tape parade. So
I head straight to the carphone. I'm going to call someone. Someone has to
know about this.
Unfortunately I forgot about the other aliens, the ones holding me captive. I was just punching in the numbers, a little clumsily since my hands were still tied, when Brownie pulls me away from the phone. I try to struggle out of his grip but he's not having any of it. Okay, time to try reason on this guy.
"Look, I have to call the police, ok? The POLICE. P-O-L-I-" What the heck am I doing? If he can't speak he can't spell. I try a different tack.
"You," I say, pointing to his chest. He looks where I'm pointing. "No no", I say, waving my hands in front of him. Now he's watching my hands. "No, look." I point to me. Now he's looking at my chest. This is not going well. Goldie comes over to see what we're doing. Good, props. I point to Goldie. Now they're looking at each other. For Pete's sake. Goldie says something to Brownie then looks at me.
"Trrrruhdel", says Goldie, dropping his jaw in that grin thing.
"Look, I don't know what that means, but we have to CALL someone!" I say, pointing at the car. Goldie points to his chest and says "Trrrruhdel" again. He slaps a hand down on Brownie's shoulder, hard enough to make Brownie grunt, and says "Zztokehr." I have to say I'm not too quick on the uptake when I'm scared, and I was plenty scared after what had happened today, so it took a few more repititions before I got it.
"Oh!" I say. Witty-comments-r-us, that's me. Their names sound like "Throttle" and "Stoker" to me. That's probably not right, but it's the closest I can get to all those rolled r's and throaty growls. I can say them correctly now, but I had to improvise back then.
"Uh, Red," I say, pointing to my chest.
"Ahhrrreht?" says Brownie.
"No, Red."
"Nohrreht?" says Goldie.
"No! Just..." I take a deep breath. Not one for the diplomacy corps, me. "Red. RED."
"Rrrreht?"
"Close enough." I wonder what they'd make of Mary-Sue? Nevermind. I try with the reason again. I point to the car phone, and mime holding the handset up to my ear.
"We have to call someone." I point north towards Alice. "We have to bring someone down here." How do you mime that? Now I wish I'd played charades more as a kid. I point to us all and mime driving, then point towards Alice again. It would help a lot if they wouldn't look so...so...politely amused. It's getting really annoying. Finally I give up and throw my hands in the air. I stalk around to the boot. I need a drink. Stoker follows me.
"I'm just getting a drink!" I say, a bit snappishly I have to admit. I fossick out the canteen and take a long pull. It's been a hot day and I only had the one drink early on, so I'm getting a bit headachy. The water isn't cold but when you're thirsty, it tastes wonderful. I hand the canteen to Stoker. You don't hog water in the outback. Stoker takes it with a smile and then tests to see how much is in there.
"It's ok, I have more," I say, pulling back my tent canvas and pointing to the big cask in the back. Stoker nods and takes a long swig. Then he whistles low at Throttle, and tosses the canteen to him. Then he leans over and starts rummaging in the boot. Well, go ahead. You've already abducted me and my car, you tied me up and you won't let me call the police. Why not dig around in my stuff? I turn and lean on the bumper bar. I should be setting my trap lines now, putting bait on the little treadles and getting my catching gear ready. I sigh. The outback is putting on a real show this evening; the sky is flame red as far as the eye can see, fading to blue and purple above. And there's not a cloud on the horizon.
I leave Stoker to investigate my stuff and wander over and sit down on a rock, first checking for spiders, snakes, scorpions, ants and cave weta's. I know, I know, there are no cave weta's in Australia, but I'm sure they have some relatives here so I always check. The stars are giving another awesome display but they aren't so nice to look at now. They're kind of scary when you think what's out there, moving among them, honing in on our little blue haven in space. Throttle comes over and hunkers down in the dirt beside me. He points up to the stars and starts talking. Maybe he's talking about his homeworld. I don't know. I can't understand him, but it's nice to have company. I'm feeling very alone right now. He doesn't talk for long before Stoker calls him over, and I'm alone with my thoughts again.
Later, much later, I'm sitting with my back against the car and watching Stoker and Throttle talking in hushed tones. I shiver. Forty degrees by day but it gets pretty cold at night. Would be handy right now to have fur. And I'm starving. I haven't had anything since morning tea. And I'm tired. And sick of being held captive by Alvin the chipmunk on steroids. I'd get mad, but I'm too tired. Anyway, I feel much more like crying. Then I have a happy thought; there's half a block of chocolate in the esky, leftovers from my going away party. As soon as I think of it, my mouth starts watering. Oh yes, I would really love half a block of chocolate right now. My stomach growls in sympathy. The heck with these guys. I'm hungry.
I get up and go back to the boot. I don't know if Stoker found the esky in his investigations or not, but my block of chocolate is still pushed behind the tomatoes where I left it. Lovely. I pull it out, and then feel a bit guilty. Well, if they were hungry, I'm sure they'd say so. With this virtuous and selfish thought in my head I break off a few heavenly pieces and pop them in my mouth. Oh yes. That is so much better already. It's sweet and smooth and just full of lovely things like sugar and caffiene and it's so heavenly. Or is it? I sniff. Okay, something must be off in the esky. Phew! The smell must be clinging to the paper wrapper. I pull it off and walk away from the boot a bit. Nope, the smell is still there. Maybe the potatoes are rotten? I walk back and pull out the potato bag. Nope, they smell fine. Well how weird is that? I can't think what else would make that sort of smell. Maybe there's a dead roo around here somewhere? But why didn't I smell it during the day?
Suddenly the ground under my feet trembles. Hey, it happens, and more often than you think. There's a fault line that runs south of Bajool and we often get little tremors out here. I thought it was quite normal. Until Throttle appeared, grabbed me and dragged me around to the side of the car. The remains of my chocolate goes flying.
"Hey! Relax, it's just a little quake. The centre is miles from here," I say. Ouch, I wish these guys wouldn't grip so hard. He's not listening though. Stoker puts a finger to his lips. Well, that signal translates well. I shut up and listen. They'll quiet down when nothing happens. But the rumbling is getting louder. Okay, maybe it's not a quake. But what the heck is it? Their ears are going a mile a minute, flicking back and forth like crazy. I've seen dogs do that. I bet they can hear for miles, pick up crickets underground, that sort of thing.
The rumbling is getting louder and I'm getting nervous, thinking about that alien base just over the ridge and I'm beginning to think it might be them. then I look at Stoker and Throttle and it dawns on me that they KNOW something is coming and that scares me even more. I'm just about to suggest we get in the car and get the hell out of there when Throttle throws me prone and shoves me under the car. For the love of...!
"Hey! That hurt!" I roll over to glare at him but he's gone. Well! I crawl towards the edge of the car but then I stop. Now that I'm lying on the ground I can feel it shaking and my mouth goes dry. Suddenly the area is lit up like it's daylight and something huge, like a big round metal plate thuds into the ground near the car. I scream. I can't help it. More of these things appear and in the light I can see they are the feet of these huge two-legged walking machines, like on Star Wars. There are three of them and they're running around, flashing these big searchlights everywhere and I can hear shouting and then the most almighty stench I have ever smelled anywhere washes over me. It's like a landfill in the hot sun, a thousand roadkills, the biggest compost heap in the world. I'm choking and gagging and I crawl outside. I have to get some air. I can't even see, my eyes are watering so much.
I crawl out and crouch down beside the car, trying desperately to draw breath and wipe my stinging eyes. It must be some sort of mustard gas or something. Finally my eyes clear a bit and I can look around. And what I see makes me crawl back under that car really fast. One of those big walker things is coming right at me and just as I get under the car, the spotlight hits it. I hope to God they didn't see me. And I hope to God they don't decide to step on the car.
I don't believe it. This is the second night in a row that I've be huddled under the car with my hands over my head, wondering if I'm going to die. This isn't fair! I don't care what those fur-covered maniacs do; first thing tomorrow I'm driving back to the Alice. Just let them try and stop me!
Assuming I survive the night, that is.
Unfortunately I forgot about the other aliens, the ones holding me captive. I was just punching in the numbers, a little clumsily since my hands were still tied, when Brownie pulls me away from the phone. I try to struggle out of his grip but he's not having any of it. Okay, time to try reason on this guy.
"Look, I have to call the police, ok? The POLICE. P-O-L-I-" What the heck am I doing? If he can't speak he can't spell. I try a different tack.
"You," I say, pointing to his chest. He looks where I'm pointing. "No no", I say, waving my hands in front of him. Now he's watching my hands. "No, look." I point to me. Now he's looking at my chest. This is not going well. Goldie comes over to see what we're doing. Good, props. I point to Goldie. Now they're looking at each other. For Pete's sake. Goldie says something to Brownie then looks at me.
"Trrrruhdel", says Goldie, dropping his jaw in that grin thing.
"Look, I don't know what that means, but we have to CALL someone!" I say, pointing at the car. Goldie points to his chest and says "Trrrruhdel" again. He slaps a hand down on Brownie's shoulder, hard enough to make Brownie grunt, and says "Zztokehr." I have to say I'm not too quick on the uptake when I'm scared, and I was plenty scared after what had happened today, so it took a few more repititions before I got it.
"Oh!" I say. Witty-comments-r-us, that's me. Their names sound like "Throttle" and "Stoker" to me. That's probably not right, but it's the closest I can get to all those rolled r's and throaty growls. I can say them correctly now, but I had to improvise back then.
"Uh, Red," I say, pointing to my chest.
"Ahhrrreht?" says Brownie.
"No, Red."
"Nohrreht?" says Goldie.
"No! Just..." I take a deep breath. Not one for the diplomacy corps, me. "Red. RED."
"Rrrreht?"
"Close enough." I wonder what they'd make of Mary-Sue? Nevermind. I try with the reason again. I point to the car phone, and mime holding the handset up to my ear.
"We have to call someone." I point north towards Alice. "We have to bring someone down here." How do you mime that? Now I wish I'd played charades more as a kid. I point to us all and mime driving, then point towards Alice again. It would help a lot if they wouldn't look so...so...politely amused. It's getting really annoying. Finally I give up and throw my hands in the air. I stalk around to the boot. I need a drink. Stoker follows me.
"I'm just getting a drink!" I say, a bit snappishly I have to admit. I fossick out the canteen and take a long pull. It's been a hot day and I only had the one drink early on, so I'm getting a bit headachy. The water isn't cold but when you're thirsty, it tastes wonderful. I hand the canteen to Stoker. You don't hog water in the outback. Stoker takes it with a smile and then tests to see how much is in there.
"It's ok, I have more," I say, pulling back my tent canvas and pointing to the big cask in the back. Stoker nods and takes a long swig. Then he whistles low at Throttle, and tosses the canteen to him. Then he leans over and starts rummaging in the boot. Well, go ahead. You've already abducted me and my car, you tied me up and you won't let me call the police. Why not dig around in my stuff? I turn and lean on the bumper bar. I should be setting my trap lines now, putting bait on the little treadles and getting my catching gear ready. I sigh. The outback is putting on a real show this evening; the sky is flame red as far as the eye can see, fading to blue and purple above. And there's not a cloud on the horizon.
I leave Stoker to investigate my stuff and wander over and sit down on a rock, first checking for spiders, snakes, scorpions, ants and cave weta's. I know, I know, there are no cave weta's in Australia, but I'm sure they have some relatives here so I always check. The stars are giving another awesome display but they aren't so nice to look at now. They're kind of scary when you think what's out there, moving among them, honing in on our little blue haven in space. Throttle comes over and hunkers down in the dirt beside me. He points up to the stars and starts talking. Maybe he's talking about his homeworld. I don't know. I can't understand him, but it's nice to have company. I'm feeling very alone right now. He doesn't talk for long before Stoker calls him over, and I'm alone with my thoughts again.
Later, much later, I'm sitting with my back against the car and watching Stoker and Throttle talking in hushed tones. I shiver. Forty degrees by day but it gets pretty cold at night. Would be handy right now to have fur. And I'm starving. I haven't had anything since morning tea. And I'm tired. And sick of being held captive by Alvin the chipmunk on steroids. I'd get mad, but I'm too tired. Anyway, I feel much more like crying. Then I have a happy thought; there's half a block of chocolate in the esky, leftovers from my going away party. As soon as I think of it, my mouth starts watering. Oh yes, I would really love half a block of chocolate right now. My stomach growls in sympathy. The heck with these guys. I'm hungry.
I get up and go back to the boot. I don't know if Stoker found the esky in his investigations or not, but my block of chocolate is still pushed behind the tomatoes where I left it. Lovely. I pull it out, and then feel a bit guilty. Well, if they were hungry, I'm sure they'd say so. With this virtuous and selfish thought in my head I break off a few heavenly pieces and pop them in my mouth. Oh yes. That is so much better already. It's sweet and smooth and just full of lovely things like sugar and caffiene and it's so heavenly. Or is it? I sniff. Okay, something must be off in the esky. Phew! The smell must be clinging to the paper wrapper. I pull it off and walk away from the boot a bit. Nope, the smell is still there. Maybe the potatoes are rotten? I walk back and pull out the potato bag. Nope, they smell fine. Well how weird is that? I can't think what else would make that sort of smell. Maybe there's a dead roo around here somewhere? But why didn't I smell it during the day?
Suddenly the ground under my feet trembles. Hey, it happens, and more often than you think. There's a fault line that runs south of Bajool and we often get little tremors out here. I thought it was quite normal. Until Throttle appeared, grabbed me and dragged me around to the side of the car. The remains of my chocolate goes flying.
"Hey! Relax, it's just a little quake. The centre is miles from here," I say. Ouch, I wish these guys wouldn't grip so hard. He's not listening though. Stoker puts a finger to his lips. Well, that signal translates well. I shut up and listen. They'll quiet down when nothing happens. But the rumbling is getting louder. Okay, maybe it's not a quake. But what the heck is it? Their ears are going a mile a minute, flicking back and forth like crazy. I've seen dogs do that. I bet they can hear for miles, pick up crickets underground, that sort of thing.
The rumbling is getting louder and I'm getting nervous, thinking about that alien base just over the ridge and I'm beginning to think it might be them. then I look at Stoker and Throttle and it dawns on me that they KNOW something is coming and that scares me even more. I'm just about to suggest we get in the car and get the hell out of there when Throttle throws me prone and shoves me under the car. For the love of...!
"Hey! That hurt!" I roll over to glare at him but he's gone. Well! I crawl towards the edge of the car but then I stop. Now that I'm lying on the ground I can feel it shaking and my mouth goes dry. Suddenly the area is lit up like it's daylight and something huge, like a big round metal plate thuds into the ground near the car. I scream. I can't help it. More of these things appear and in the light I can see they are the feet of these huge two-legged walking machines, like on Star Wars. There are three of them and they're running around, flashing these big searchlights everywhere and I can hear shouting and then the most almighty stench I have ever smelled anywhere washes over me. It's like a landfill in the hot sun, a thousand roadkills, the biggest compost heap in the world. I'm choking and gagging and I crawl outside. I have to get some air. I can't even see, my eyes are watering so much.
I crawl out and crouch down beside the car, trying desperately to draw breath and wipe my stinging eyes. It must be some sort of mustard gas or something. Finally my eyes clear a bit and I can look around. And what I see makes me crawl back under that car really fast. One of those big walker things is coming right at me and just as I get under the car, the spotlight hits it. I hope to God they didn't see me. And I hope to God they don't decide to step on the car.
I don't believe it. This is the second night in a row that I've be huddled under the car with my hands over my head, wondering if I'm going to die. This isn't fair! I don't care what those fur-covered maniacs do; first thing tomorrow I'm driving back to the Alice. Just let them try and stop me!
Assuming I survive the night, that is.