pair of very odd-looking goggles – they were opaque and had a button on the side, which she kept pressing from time to time. I must confess I was perplexed. I'd never seen anything even remotely similar to them.
I was about to call it quits when for a second time that day a vision-strength image burst into my mind. This time of a narrow walking track in the bush I’d never seen before. Gum trees grew on both sides, and the track was overgrown with ferns, wild grass, sticks and leaves. Once again, a powerful feeling of déjà vu persuaded me that this experience – of seeing this image while standing on the roof, had happened before. Bewildered, I tried to reason that it couldn't possibly be true, but then came the metallic taste followed by the sensation of falling. And like this morning, the strange attack concluded with intense stomach pain and every nerve ending in my body spiked with adrenaline.
I half sat, half collapsed onto the roof, breathing heavily as I waited for the after effects of the horrific experience to fade away. What was happening to me?
I had been in the bush on foraging trips in the past, but never on a bushwalking track. Was this a premonition of the future, about an event that was going to happen?
I lingered on the roof for another hour until, exhausted and sleepy, I stumbled down the eight flights of stairs to my flat. I could have used the elevator, but that would’ve meant breaking my vow to never use it. Stairs were an excellent medium for staying in shape.
Chapter Seven
The next morning I was surprised when I strolled into the Recycling-Works yard and saw our truck was back. Looking unaffected by its trip into North End as well. As I walked over to join my workmates, I ran my eyes along the battered body. Memories of yesterday’s encounters with the Skel and the Japanese ran through my mind. I hoped today would be a bit less exciting.
There was no sign of Sergeant King and his Custodians. In fact, we might even be sent a different squad since King lost half his men yesterday.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a Custodian Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle roared down the street and backed slowly into the yard, parking parallel with our truck. The Bushmaster looked like a box on wheels, but from what I heard, it was bulletproof, impervious to mines, and coated with fire retardant paint. It was also very, very old – all our Bushmasters pre-dated the Apocalypse. Just about every part of them had been reconditioned or replaced at some stage over the years.
"Looks like they're expecting Skel today," Michal said dryly.
"Yeah, got a bit of a shock yesterday, they did." Shorty laughed.
“Two of them also got a bit dead.” I reminded them.
The Bushmaster's rear door swung open on well-oiled hinges – and wouldn’t you know it – out stepped Sergeant King, ready and willing to face the Skel again. My respect for the guy went up a notch.
Trajan, the boss, rushed outside to talk to King, no doubt thanking him for his squad’s wonderful effort in saving my team yesterday. I wonder what he'd say if he found out it was the other way around.
Hearing light footsteps in the street outside piqued my interest. I turned around and froze in shock when Nanako walked into the yard with Councillor Okada trailing behind her. She held a small, black box wrapped in a checked-pattern handkerchief.
Upon spying me, her petite, round face lit up with joy and she hurried over to me. She bowed briefly and held out her hands. "I made this for you."
I looked down at the beautiful lacquered wooden lunchbox and had no idea what to do. Just seeing her, a single girl, out here in the streets of Newhome – albeit with a chaperone – was a concept so unfamiliar that my mind whirled in confusion.
"For me?" was all I could think to say.
"It's obento." She nodded to encourage me to accept the home-cooked lunch.
Michal gave me a gentle shove, whispering, "Go on, accept it, you drongo."
I stumbled forward
I was about to call it quits when for a second time that day a vision-strength image burst into my mind. This time of a narrow walking track in the bush I’d never seen before. Gum trees grew on both sides, and the track was overgrown with ferns, wild grass, sticks and leaves. Once again, a powerful feeling of déjà vu persuaded me that this experience – of seeing this image while standing on the roof, had happened before. Bewildered, I tried to reason that it couldn't possibly be true, but then came the metallic taste followed by the sensation of falling. And like this morning, the strange attack concluded with intense stomach pain and every nerve ending in my body spiked with adrenaline.
I half sat, half collapsed onto the roof, breathing heavily as I waited for the after effects of the horrific experience to fade away. What was happening to me?
I had been in the bush on foraging trips in the past, but never on a bushwalking track. Was this a premonition of the future, about an event that was going to happen?
I lingered on the roof for another hour until, exhausted and sleepy, I stumbled down the eight flights of stairs to my flat. I could have used the elevator, but that would’ve meant breaking my vow to never use it. Stairs were an excellent medium for staying in shape.
Chapter Seven
The next morning I was surprised when I strolled into the Recycling-Works yard and saw our truck was back. Looking unaffected by its trip into North End as well. As I walked over to join my workmates, I ran my eyes along the battered body. Memories of yesterday’s encounters with the Skel and the Japanese ran through my mind. I hoped today would be a bit less exciting.
There was no sign of Sergeant King and his Custodians. In fact, we might even be sent a different squad since King lost half his men yesterday.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a Custodian Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle roared down the street and backed slowly into the yard, parking parallel with our truck. The Bushmaster looked like a box on wheels, but from what I heard, it was bulletproof, impervious to mines, and coated with fire retardant paint. It was also very, very old – all our Bushmasters pre-dated the Apocalypse. Just about every part of them had been reconditioned or replaced at some stage over the years.
"Looks like they're expecting Skel today," Michal said dryly.
"Yeah, got a bit of a shock yesterday, they did." Shorty laughed.
“Two of them also got a bit dead.” I reminded them.
The Bushmaster's rear door swung open on well-oiled hinges – and wouldn’t you know it – out stepped Sergeant King, ready and willing to face the Skel again. My respect for the guy went up a notch.
Trajan, the boss, rushed outside to talk to King, no doubt thanking him for his squad’s wonderful effort in saving my team yesterday. I wonder what he'd say if he found out it was the other way around.
Hearing light footsteps in the street outside piqued my interest. I turned around and froze in shock when Nanako walked into the yard with Councillor Okada trailing behind her. She held a small, black box wrapped in a checked-pattern handkerchief.
Upon spying me, her petite, round face lit up with joy and she hurried over to me. She bowed briefly and held out her hands. "I made this for you."
I looked down at the beautiful lacquered wooden lunchbox and had no idea what to do. Just seeing her, a single girl, out here in the streets of Newhome – albeit with a chaperone – was a concept so unfamiliar that my mind whirled in confusion.
"For me?" was all I could think to say.
"It's obento." She nodded to encourage me to accept the home-cooked lunch.
Michal gave me a gentle shove, whispering, "Go on, accept it, you drongo."
I stumbled forward
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