Blind Sky
Chapter 8

I head to my car after reviewing the information Gram gave me, trying to picture my life before the war, before the agency, and before my mother’s murder, then drown myself with memories of all the times she gave me advice whenever I was at a complete loss what to do.

I found myself driving to no set destination, and continue driving, deciding to stop outside the grave yard.

I push away the flowers and leafs scattered around the cold gray tombstone, wrapping my body around the tombstone, afraid to unplug my body from her presence, needing her comfort.

The cold stone pressing against my skin isn’t befitting for someone full of life, charisma, and an infectious smile that could light up any room. She was as beautiful as Pocahontas, and as caring as any devoted charity worker. I remain fixed on the tombstone like a branch on a tree, thinking about her well into the night.

It’s late and I know dad must be worried and livid, noting the various missed calls, voice messages and text messages on my phone.

I pulI into the driveway noticing Derek’s car, knowing this was not good.

“Sky,” the voices announce just as I open the door.

“Where have you been?” Dad asks; with a displeased look on his face. “You had us worried, I was about to start a search party and call Authority Official’s,” he shouts.

“We’ve been trying to call you all evening,” Derek blurts.

“I’m fine, no need to worry.” But the carelessness in my attitude does not please either one. Normally I wouldn’t be so unconcerned, but I am distracted from the events of today.

“Easy for you to say,” Derek’s eyes pinning mine. He’s furious, making an effort to remain calm, but it’s clear from the scowled expression on his face, he’s pissed.

“I called several times and sent several text messages, and when I didn’t hear from you, came to your house,” he says with disdain.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Dad shouts in a scolding way. I think of something quick, because they can’t know about my meeting at Logue, and I don’t want to bring up visiting mom’s gravesite.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause grieve. You’re right to be mad. I should have checked in and called.”

My apology seems to ease their anger a little, but I know I wasn’t completely off the hook, conveniently switching the conversation.

“You guys hungry?”

“No you don’t young lady.” Dad’s still mad and he rarely ever speaks to me the way he is, reserving such stern tone for deliberate disobedience, even trying to even recall the last time he’s been this upset with me, and I hate disappointing him.

“Dad.”

“Not now Sky, let me finish. I want to know where you’ve been. Do you understand we were seconds from calling the Authority Official’s?”

I sigh, making up a lie. “I was with a friend from work.” Dad and Derek steal puzzled glances at one another.

“We were talking in the parking lot, and decided to go out to eat and get some drinks. They both stand silently. “We got caught up and lost track of time.”

“Is this some new friend of yours?” Dad questions.

“Yes, he’s new at work.” I hate lying to him, but I don’t want to tell him where I was.

Derek remains quiet and motionless, turning his head to the side as to disengage in the conversation.

Not wanting to argue or continue on with the conversation, I try to settle things. “Dad, everything’s fine. I know I should have called and I’m sorry for that.”

“I know, you usually are not this…careless,” he says with unease but in a much calmer tone. “I don’t like to be this strict with you, but I need to know you’re safe. It may not be cool to be a worried parent or old fashioned…but I couldn’t…” struggling to hold his speech together, which makes me feel even worse.

He takes a long breath, managing to maintain his discomfort.

“I wouldn’t know what I would do if I lost you.” He takes a long breath, managing to maintain his discomfort.

“Promise never to do this again; my heart can’t take it.”

“Promise,” embracing him and whispering an apology in his ear.

Derek appears deep in thought as if pondering something. I’m pretty good at reading him, however, it’s been a long day for us all and I’m too tired to inquire.

“Do you guys want me to make something?”

“No, not hungry,” Derek answers.

I set my eye on him suspiciously.

“Nothing for me. Besides, I have a lot of work that still needs to be done.”

“You’re going to begin work this late?”

“The tables have turned again,” dad laughs sarcastically. “You’re worried about me now?”

“Dad, I always do.”

“I have a lot of reading to catch up on, but I suppose after the events of tonight, I can take the night off. Does that work for you?”

“I suppose,” rolling my eyes.

It’s minutes after 1 a.m., and dad and Derek have been chatting lounging on the couch like a couple of college buddies as if nothing transpired.

I watch them channel flip between a documentary and some swamp show.

“How’s your mom?” Dad asks while flipping through the channels on the T.V.

“She’s traveling a lot and loving it.”

“So, she’s having a good time, hey.”

“Yup.”

Derek’s mom traveled a lot spending most of her time in other places than her own. She had the means and time, since Derek is her only child, and a large settlement she received from her divorce to Derek’s dad, though Derek convinced her not to sell the house. He told her it was a good investment and a waste to sell. She agreed, and since she’s hardly ever there, Derek pretty much lives on his own.

After retiring to bed, feel guilty again for worrying dad and Derek, but once I broke the news to dad that I enrolled in College, all was forgotten and forgiven. I knew he was proud of me no matter what decision I made, but the delight in his eyes made me reconsider possible enrolling on my own after the mission. Derek on the other hand seemed wary and skeptical, but I didn’t need to discuss anything further, and headed off to bed.

******

There are a few people in Concord class already, but it’s not a big class, just two rows, one on the bottom and the other on top. I head to the top row, noting the guy in the blue hat.

A few more students stroll in, two taking seats below, the others sitting up top.

“Good Morning class, I’m Dr. Griffin,” the professor greets, brief case in hand, dressed in a dark brown v- knit shirt and khaki dress pants.

“Welcome to Concord class. I am glad to have you all here and I hope to enlighten you, as well as expand your views and perception about life and the universe. As you should know, Concord represents peace, agreement and unity, something we should all strive for,” then proceeds with roll call.

“Elizabeth Zumer, Elizabeth…no Elizabeth,” Dr. Griffin mumbles checking something on the tablet then proceeds.

“Henry Clyde,” and the guy in the first row waves his hand.

“Ashley Simmons, Taylor Green,” he calls, both also seated in the first row.

Dr. Griffin calls a few more names then pauses.

“Well, this is a first,” he mumbles.

“Galen Amadeo.” The guy with the blue hat looks up, raising his hand, recognizing his face immediately. He was at Logue two years ago, and brought in by Tadao for our final match. His jet black hair has grown out, and in a ponytail now.

“This is a delight, and pleasure to have someone from Division 19 join us.” Just about every girl turns their heads, glancing at Galen with interest.

Because citizens in Division 19 are separate from us, we have limited access to the area which makes it extremely difficult to track or know what is going on there. To add difficulty, individuals from different divisions can only enter other divisions based on approval, which means to get into Division 19, I need to have a good reason.

Class is over and I wonder if Tadao knew Galen belonged to Division 19.

The weather is captivating and unusually windy for the summer season, the clouds constructed like marshmallows scattered across the blue sky. Though the sun is beaming down, it’s not hot at all. The heat is warm, but not overwhelming.

I stroll to the parking lot viewing the pile of cars in line, noting my wrangler is simple, rugged, and understated compared to the hundreds of flashy cars in the parking lot. Growing up in the affluent town of Gold Coast, money is status and buying nice things and big toys was common, but mom and dad even though they could afford luxurious things were big on saving rather than overspending.

I take a moment glancing in the mirror taking a look at my caramel complexion, taking sight of Galen in the mirror.

I adjust my seat belt, check the rear view mirror and back out slowly, taking another glance in the mirror again and lose him.

I push down on the gas pedal, and turn up the volume on the radio of the news report hoping to avoid the herd of incoming traffic.

Preparations are being made for evacuation routes. All residents are to proceed with caution and must be ready to evacuate when instructed to do so. Those who choose to stay must understand the consequences for staying behind. The storm is strengthening with winds estimated to reach 170-225 km. This is a category three Cyclone and is expected to make land fall on Friday evening. We are tracking its path and will continue to update as changes occur.

Cyclones are common in Australia and the season for them usually starts in November and ends in April. If not for the swarm of shoppers stocking up on water, loading their vehicles with emergency supplies, flash lights, and wood for boarding, which suggests what’s to come, you couldn’t tell from the day something destructive was on its way,

I realize how fortunate we are for tracking systems that allows us time to prepare, but sometimes even with advanced warning, it’s not enough. An unexpected shift can change everything, and the aftermath of the destruction stays with you.

When Cyclone George hit back in 2007, a category five, and the highest category for a Cyclone, I remember dad setting up a tent, board games and telling horror stories in the living room. Mom joined us too and she laughed at how adorable he was for attempting to make a disaster less frightening. But dad’s humor quickly subsided with the aftermath of Cyclone George. It struck in Port Hedland; claiming three lives and causing several injuries. Dad’s co-worker and dear friend Gill lost his life in that storm. Cyclone Larry in 2006 was also a big one, a category four. It hit North Queensland Coast, damaging thousands of houses and costing billions of dollars in government relief.

My dad calls to check up on me. He’s out of town working as a voluntary assistant with Australian Forensic Science Department, and gives the usual safety lecture. Since mom’s murder, he’s super paranoid of losing me, which I understand is for my benefit, and because he cares. He asks if I have flashlights, water and all the essentials in case of power outage. I planned to go home, but decide to camp over at Derek’s, which makes him feel better.

Derek’s house is only five minutes away and sits on an oversized water front property. The lot has a boat deck and a speed boat, and I recall some of Derek’s crazy stunts. We always had fun playing hide and go seek together, then it dawned on me how much things have changed. I gaze at the trees rooted firmly in the ground and the sunlight glimmering down on the water behind his house which sparkles like hundreds of star dust.

I wish I could tell Derek all the details of my assignment, but I can’t. And despite Derek knowing my involvement with System Protocol, I’m not allowed to give information to anyone. Besides, Derek thinks it’s time for me to put missions aside, even suggesting a position within Logue as a facility coordinator, or just about anything else that doesn’t require killing anyone.

Derek greets me with unexpected enthusiasm taking the bag I packed.

“Ready for the storm?”

“It’s coming whether I’m ready or not.”

He smiles as I follow him upstairs. “Good point.”

I notice the candles decorated on the two night stands and the dresser in his bedroom. Even the shelving above the flat screen T.V. on the wall has candles.

“Why do you have so many candles in your room?” I ask with interest.

“For the storm,” he chuckles plopping himself down on the bed.

“But you still have power and wouldn’t flashlights be better?”

“I have those too,” grabbing the two flashlights at the side of the bed, then points to the two big lanterns sitting on the floor by his night stand. “See I have everything. Besides, the candles give it a better ambiance.”

Derek heads downstairs returning with bags of chips, salsa, hummus, cookies, trail mix, bottles of water, juice packs and sandwiches he picked up at the grocery store.

“Are you really going to eat all this food?” I ask taking a bag of chips.

“Maybe,” he says while chomping down on a sandwich. “Here,” handing me one.

I can hear the wind howling, while I struggle to keep my eyes open. On the T.V., news coverage shows footage of large tidal waves colliding into one another, and the reporters continue to film and report without reservation as they narrate about flooded roads and debris.

“The wind shows no sign of slowing, continuing to gain speed, already damaging stops signs, trees, and hurling objects in the street like fabric,” one of the reporters describes. “The storm continues to produce powerful winds, growing stronger by the minute,” the reporter shouts above the loud crashing waves showing footage of a large tidal wave erupting onto the roads, quickly flooding the streets, while the ocean’s shade of dusk gives the impression of a carcass, or a massive sea urchin rising from the bottom of the ocean floor possessively, which is shown on just about every news channel.

The grim and gusty wail outside quickly transforms the brightened day to an obscure certainty of what is to come. I lay my head on Derek’s shoulder thankful we still have electricity, but I know that could be only a matter of time before that could go.

“You sleepy?”

“A little,” I yawn.

“Oh come on, you’re going to miss all the action.”

“Well, you can stay up and watch. I’m sleepy,” trying to hold back yet another yawn.

“Stop that, now you’re making me yawn,” putting his hand over his mouth and I dose off waking briefly to the crackling sound of branches snapping and rain pebbles pounding on the window.

In the morning when I wake lying next to Derek the sun is shining like fools gold, though only mere hours before a violent cyclone rumbled through the town like a siege of wild hyenas, now a bright cascade of warm sun light glistens.

Derek follows me home to survey the damage and thankfully there isn’t much. Water is backed up along the street, some debris and trash splatter across the lawn but it could have been a lot worse. There is power inside the house, but the flashing light from the stove and microwave indicate power was loss at some time.

“Everything looks good,” Derek says and though true, an eerie presence radiates a nervous chill down my body.