Author's Note - G'day all! Uh, yeah, sorry for the really late update... Lot's going on, you know how it is! Hopefully no one's completely forgotten about this story! ^.^
Chapter Forty-nine.
It was only natural.
They had all been on this island for several months, looking after the local population after they had ended a centuries long feud.
This meant their only reason for being there was to make sure that they didn't start fighting again.
So it was only a natural inevitability.
"So, what'll happen?"
"Well, if anyone asks, more fuel equals a faster burn. It's only logical."
It was rubbish burning day. At the Far East of their camp the Australian and New Zealand Military had dug a huge pit that they tipped their rubbish into, 3 meters by 3 meters and 2 meters deep and once a week someone was selected to burn all the rubbish, so the pile (and smell) was reduced. Once the burnt rubbish was beginning to near the top, dirt was piled on top of it and another trench was dug. Chucking the rubbish into the pit was (obviously) no one's favourite job.
To burn all this rubbish some one would (well, should) pour a litre of diesel on top of everything in there, then ignite it. The burning rubbish would then be supervised until all of it had been burned away, which would take a couple of boring hours …
"Therefore if fuel was represented as x, the period of burning as y and pyrotechnics as z, than,' figures were drawn into the hard dirt,
x = y + z…
'Therefore!'
2x = 2y + 2z
'And Yay! Bigger Boom!"
O'Harrow glared, "Goodfellow, only you would use High School maths as a way to make things blow up bigger. And even then I'm sure you've gotten it wrong."
Goodfellow chuckled and scratched the back of her head, "Well, I slept through most of my maths lessons…"
"And you still passed?"
"You know, that used to amaze my friend as well. She'd study hard, I wouldn't, yet I'd still get better marks! ...At least, I think that's what happened…"
O'Harrow looked impressed, "So what? You're a genius that gets stuff wrong all the time?"
"Nah, she was just really bad at maths!"
O'Harrow looked at the equation again, "So, according to this, the burning time'll be longer?"
"No, it'll be doubly quicker!"
"Hmm…Okay…"
It really didn't take much convincing, after all, it was only natural, and every criminal needs the perfect accomplice.
"Hey Goodfellow?"
"Eh?"
"If your life was a story, what would you call it?"
A pause than, "… Awesome Pyrotechnics!"
"By Jove, what sort of doctor are you?"
She laughed evilly, "An excellent one! That's why I know the exact measurement that can bring a human being to the brink of death, but not quite kill 'im."
O'Harrow let out a breath of air and made a common European gesture of worry, waving her hand up and down against her shirt, very fast as if polishing her fingernails.
"Should I trust you?"
"Absolutely! This requires precision!"
Whistling, Goodfellow siphoned a huge amount of diesel from one of the large barrels that lay beside the basic covering for their vehicles into a metal container, then went to another for a bit of petrol.
"Petrol…?" O'Harrow questioned warily.
"To make it ignite faster."
"Oh."
The two hauled the loads of fuel over to the pit, carefully making sure the Captain wouldn't spot them as the made their way past their camp and the dunny.
"Right, you said we needed to be precis – Goodfellow! What happened to precision?"
Goodfellow cheerfully and liberally poured the fuel over the rubbish.
"Hey, you should be grateful I'm helping you with this!" Goodfellow stated.
It was true, technically it was O'Harrow's turn to burn the rubbish. Shrugging the two of them carefully poured the fuel into the pit.
When the fumes were thick enough to see, the two of them dashed to a fallen log and hid behind it. Goodfellow pulled an old rag from her pocket and found a large rock. As she was swiftly tying it to it, O'Harrow dipped the end of the rag into some petrol.
Their self made Rubbish-Tip-Igniting-Device was then lit, Goodfellow cocked her arm back, gave O'Harrow one last quirky grin and then threw it the fifty meters into the heavily fumed pit.
It was a beautifully still day when an almost perfect mushroom cloud of smoke came from the rubbish pit. The large whoosh of displaced air vibrated around the immediate vicinity and Goodfellow and O'Harrow were pushed off their feet at their mere force of the heat wave. The heat was immense, but the two quickly jumped to their feet and raced to the edge of the pit. A merry fire was now quietly crackling away and if anyone happened to come by to check if a bomb had been set off or rebels were attacking because of the noise (and mushroom cloud), all they would see would be two Navy Officers quietly supervising the rubbish burning…
"That…"
" – Was perfect. Wanna do it again?" Goodfellow grinned despite the heat and O'Harrow shook her head in amusement, suddenly she gasped.
"What is it, O'Harrow?" Goodfellow asked absently, her cheeks were flushed red and her eyebrows were funny looking.
"Shit, we burnt down the dunny."
The dunny was basically a drop pit with a bottomless stool over the hole, but it had flimsy walls made from nearby palm leaves to provide a bit of privacy. There was now a half-collapsed seat, with burnt leaves around it.
"…How are we gonna explain that?"
"It was the faeries.' Goodfellow said firmly, bending down with a large stick to poke the burning rubbish. O'Harrow suddenly paled, 'O'Harrow? You alright? - "
"You mean you two were off with the Faeries?" a stern voice came from behind them.
"Hey Sir – heh heh…"
"Next time, I'll show you how to really burn rubbish." The Captain grinned and O'Harrow blushed, while Goodfellow bounced in excitement.
"Are you sure you'll be able to top this, Sir?"
"Yeah, no probs! Just, ah… don't let the Commodore know about it…"
"And vice versa, Sir. Deal, Sir?"
"Deal." The two shook hands and O'Harrow blinked.
"Wait, what did you two just agree on? Sir?"
"O'Harrow, you're sworn to secrecy too." The Captain pointed at her, winked and then started heading back to their camp.
"The secret of what? Goodfellow, what did you do?"
"Oh, the Captain said that it was time for my Psych interview! See ya!" Goodfellow bounced to the Captain's side and started talking animatedly, probably about fire…
"How did this happen?" O'Harrow mumbled to herself as she poked the fire miserably and once again doubted the validity of Goodfellow's equation.
The Royal Australian Navy had gotten the RAAF to fly in one of their doctors to do a Psychology test on all the members that were on the island. To be isolated from civilisation and your friends and family for a couple of months at a time can sometimes make people go spare, so just in case, a doctor'd come in to check up on them.
Goodfellow rushed into the doctor's 'office' (tent), eyebrows burnt off and her clothes giving off a distinct smell of burning rubbish. Her hair was hastily pinned up into a bun and she was running late as she burst through the tent. The tall doctor turned around, his eyes never leaving the clipboard and his bushy eyebrows danced in amusement.
"I'm so sorry! I - " The doctor's head shot up in shock.
"Fletcher? Is that you?"
"Ma… Do I know you? Wait, my name… isn't…Fletcher… Is it?' Goodfellow shook her head, 'Nah, it's not Fletcher. I may have lost most of my memories, but I definitely had a dog tag on that said 'Goodfellow'. Sorry doctor."
The doctor looked at her thoughtfully, 'You're right, sorry Goodfellow, trick of the light. Now, how do you feel you have settled these past few months?" And with that, the Psych interview continued as normal.
An hour later, the doctor gave one final glance over the finished sheet, "Okay Goodfellow, you're in the clear. You have a perfectly sane mind! Unless, of course, you've blown something up. That's always a good indication of insanity."
Goodfellow paled considerablely, "Uh… No Doctor…' she coughed suddenly and scratched the back of her neck, 'No pyrotechnics have happened lately here…"
"So that mushroom cloud…?"
"The weather formations here are most irregular and conform to the up drafts and South-Easternlies much more consistently than most areas of the world."
One word (or two, depending on how you look at it) described how Goodfellow got out of that mess. With a lot of Bullshiiiiting!
As she made her escape through the tent flap, the doctor shook his head.
"Cobweb, Cobweb, Cobweb… You'll have to do better than that.' Louder he called out, "Goodfellow! Get the next person in here!"
"Gotcha Doctor!"
"So…"
"Oh hush!"
"I take it you're not burning any more rubbish…"
"As if! Me and the Capt's got a bet going on now! You're helping me, by the way, no matter what the Capt's said to you!"
"Hang on! Why am I dragged into this?"
"Because it was during your fire burning duty that it started. We have to be consistent."
O'Harrow just groaned and shoved her head under the pillow.
Goodfellow propped herself up with her elbow and peered into the darkness, "O'Harrow? Did you say something?"
"…Just go to sleep."
Crystal balls floating…
A strange, white light substituted as the surroundings…
Nothing was real except for the brilliant blonde headed girl with bright blue wings.
"Hermione? Hermione! Hermione, snap out of it!"
"Alice? Where am I?"
Alice's golden green eyes looked down at her distressed, "Hermione… Cobweb's swapped you for her."
Hermione frowned in confusion, "What?"
"Hermione! You're now a Changeling! It was harder for her to switch me and herself because I'm a Sidhe, but as you're a mortal, BAM! it's simple!"
Hermione paled, "Alice… ALICE! Oh my gosh, Alice! I thought we'd lost you!"
Alice smiled in pain, "Hermione… I'm trapped in a half existence. I can only be here when I'm asleep.' She sighed, 'When I'm asleep, my mind becomes trapped in these wretched crystals and I remember everything. As soon as my body wakes itself, I forget everything… It's so frustrating!"
"Trapped…?" Hermione looked around, Alice hung in mid air, suspended within a small crystal. Light dawned on her and Hermione looked down. She was trapped in a crystal too…
Hermione glanced up at Alice suddenly, distressed, "Alice… I'm getting married. I… Now Draco's going to marry that stupid Fae!"
Alice opened her mouth up to speak, but instead of words, a choking noise came out, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed, her bright blue wings fading in colour and looking almost wilted. Her pale skin lost what little colour it had in the first place and her long blonde hair, that Hermione had only ever seen tied up in a messy bun within the year that she had known her, was now loose and pooled around her like blood. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, if Alice's body died while she was asleep, did that mean her mind would stay, dead, within that crystal forever? But… she was Alice… Alice couldn't just die like that…
"Alice? ALICE!"