Chapter 2

Logan felt groggy as his eyes began to flicker open. His head was pounding and his body aching. He could vaguely recall drinking, although the rest was a bit of a haze. But then again, how often did anyone remember a midday drink?

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he glanced around and noticed Madam Esmeralda lying on the ground a few meters away. She, too, was slowly opening her own eyes. Others in the town were also slowly getting to their feet. Some of them staggered as if their feet were made of jelly.

Seemed it wasn’t a midday slosh session after all. Madam Esmeralda never drank, so unless she was a secret alcoholic too ashamed to admit it, there had to be another reason why they were all having a midday nap in the street.

Logan racked his brain for anything he could recall. It was still a bit of a blur. But the last thing he remembered was the sky turning that purple and green. He slowly got to his feet. Madam Esmeralda had managed to get to her knees, but her age made it a struggle to get beyond that.

“Brat! Help me up!” she commanded.

Logan sighed, but did as he was told. He would’ve done it regardless, but ignoring her also meant he’d have an earful of complaints from her later. That was a pain. He didn’t want to deal with it. He very much just wanted to go back inside and continue drinking.

“Madam Esmeralda, are you alright?!” Rebecca called, rushing over to them. Logan didn’t want to admit he felt somewhat dejected by the fact that she hadn’t asked how he was.

“See, this is the kind of treatment I was expecting, damn brat,” she lectured Logan.

“It’s not too late to trip you, old bat,” Logan snapped back.

“What was that?”

Logan didn’t dare respond out of fear for his safety.

Rebecca laughed, having just reached them. “I’m glad it seems the two of you are alright.”

“Well, he’s a brat, but there is no helping that,” Madam Esmeralda commented, assassinating what little positive image Logan had remaining.

“Well, it sounds like you aren’t injured,” Rebecca replied with a smile before shifting her focus to Logan. “What do you think happened to cause this?”

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t got the faintest idea what happened.”

“Should we report what happened to someone?” Rebecca asked, as she began to chew on her thumbnail, a nervous habit of hers that Logan clocked.

“That’s a disgusting habit, girl,” Madam Esmeralda scolded, completely losing track of the fact that there were more pressing issues to deal with. That said, Rebecca didn’t fight her. She quickly dropped her hand, offering her an apology. Such was the power of Madam Esmeralda.

“We could give the pigs a call?” Logan suggested, trying to shield Rebecca from Madam Esmeralda’s tirade.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she responded, clearly picking up on his assist.

Rebecca assisted Madam Esmeralda as Logan rushed off into the bar. He made his way over to the phone and dialled triple-zero, the police.

Silence.

Nothing but a dead phone line. Not even a faint buzz. Just silence.

“Did you get on to them?”

The voice behind him made Logan jump. He spun around to see Rebecca and Madam Esmeralda entering the pub.

“Nah, seems like my phone’s all buggered up.”

“Damn, then what are we going to do?” Rebecca asked, pulling up a barstool.

“I’ll pop around to Darrell’s and use his, you two wait here while I do that.”

They nodded, and he dashed across the road to the servo. The door swung open, and Darrell and his wife, Stacey, instantly noticed him.

“Hey Logan, any idea what the bloody hell is going on here?”

“No clue,” he waved off Darrell’s question. “But, can we use your phone?”

“What happened to yours?”

“Shat itself,” Logan responded, pushing past him.

“Fair dinkum?” Darrell smirked. “Alright, but it’ll cost ya.”

Logan ignored him and picked up the phone. He punched in triple zero, but just as with his line, he was met with nothing but silence.

“Well?” Darrell prodded.

“Nothing,” Logan replied, hanging up the phone. “Seems like the area is down.”

“Ya think it could have something to do with that light display?”

“Probably.”

“Well, if we can’t reach them by phone, we’ll just have to pay them a visit.”

“The nearest station is like thirty kilometres away.”

“What other option do we have?”

Logan didn’t have an answer. As much as he didn’t want to travel the distance, he also knew that it would be far worse if they couldn’t reach the outside world.

“Fine, but we will need to let Rebecca and Madam Esmeralda know first, before we leave.”

“I’ll let them know. You two go,” Stacey chimed in.

Logan nodded before he and Darrell hopped into Darrell’s Ute and turned the key. The tin can roared into life like a constipated person taking a laxative, and the two of them drove down the dirt road.

The trip took only twenty minutes before they were abruptly stopped by a large concrete wall.

One that neither man had ever seen before.

Some men stood on top as Darrel pulled the Ute to a stop. The two men stepped out of the car, into the shadow of the large structure.

“Yo! Who the fuck are you all? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. Anyway, we probably need some help.”

“My God!”

“Stop staring at us like a stunned mullet,” Logan shouted at them.

“Take a photo, it’ll last longer,” Darrell added.

“Get me a line to the Prime Minister immediately,” the man on the wall called to the watch tower.

“Are your ears painted on? We said we needed some help,” Darrell shouted at them.

“Stay there.”

“We kinda have to,” Darrell replied snarkily. “Ya built a giant arse wall. Speakin’ of, when did ya do this?”

The man jittered and avoided looking at them directly.

“We built it ten years ago,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Logan asked before Darrell could say something stupid.

“We built it around ten years ago,” the man replied, much clearer this time.

Darrell and Logan looked at each other and, in unison, turned back to the man and laughed their arses off.

“Bullshit,” Logan replied through laughter.

“Nice try, bucko, but I’m not falling for that shit,” Darrell added.

“I assure you, I am not joking. This is a structure that was constructed around ten years ago.”

Darrell turned to Logan. “I reckon this bloke’s a few stubbies short of a six-pack.”

Normally, Logan would agree, but he had witnessed enough strange things for a lifetime. He just wanted to get back to his pub.

The man on the wall sighed.

“What year do you think it is?”

“I know Claremont is slow, but it’s 2006,” Darrell called back.

The man curled his lip, eyes widening as he took a few sharp breaths.

“I don’t know how to tell you this. But it is 2016.”

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End of Chapter 2