Incarna

17 - Canberra HQ

Jim woke as if climbing out of mud. Somewhere there was fresh air. Somewhere there was consciousness free from djinn and succubus and animals that ate you alive. He forced himself to sit up. His mouth felt like bush rats had built a nest in it overnight and left their shit everywhere.

He stumbled into his bathroom, found the Tea Tree toothpaste Jeannie had told him to use and scrubbed the last remnants of marsupial faecal deposit from his gums. He had a mate whose brother was a zoologist. He’d spent years documenting remnant nests of the extinct Stick Nest Rat. Apparently shit piles in caves could tell you a lot about what the animals had been doing. Yep that’s how his mouth felt, a hundred year old shit pile.

Fuck it, gonna be one of those days, he thought as he looked at his haggard face in the bathroom mirror. Six AM. Plenty of time, he mused as he grabbed a handful of sun dried apricots and poured some of the herb brew from his thermos that Jeannie insisted he have three times a day. God how he loved her and the kids, but he was so thankful they’d decided for them to stay at Huskisson. The kids were settled at the school, she had new friends and the circle of service wives were a sisterhood no man would dare cross!

It was only a two hour drive home to see them and Jervis Bay was such an exquisite bit of the world. He could fish and dive and rock climb and his original unit was now based out of HMAS Creswell. An amphibious special air service unit now working in the desert, typical fuckin Australian armed services. Jacks of

Jim threw his service gear into a pack and pulled on his black and orange athlete long johns and zip front top. It may look like Lycra but this was made of a new Twaron carbon nanotube fibre mix fabric. He’d come off a couple of times and skidded across the road as if the stuff was body armour. He’d got up after being knocked off once by some dick head motorist and accidentally on purpose broke the blokes wing mirror off. “Shit mate sorry,” he’d said and all the bloke had said was, “ yeah, sure, no worries!”

Jim was tall, solid and looked strong. He worked out daily, free form spared two or three times a week and had won his last couple of cage fights, which Jeannie didn’t know about. People called him sir, his mates Jim and his team Cap or Boss. He was 36, thought he knew the meaning of life and had no time for all this mythical bullshit that was starting to sweep around the world after those fuckin videos.

Jim pushed hard into the pedals and made his fastest run out to the airport and back so far. He slowed his pace as he came into the suburb of Reid and began to enjoy the gardens and the quiet surface of Canberra. That house belonged to an ASIO agent. That one to a foreign affairs OS operative and on it went. Quiet homes for very busy intrigue filled lives.

Jim cycled slowly along Ainslie Avenue toward Civic. He let the brisk spring morning air clear the last of fatigued brain now he had burnt off the stress from last night. He got away before the cars at the lights changed and angled an easy right onto Cooyong St He ignored the morning traffic as he turned a tight left into Scotts Crossing and swung his leg over and coasted into Petrie Plaza.

Most of his compatriots at Australian Defense Force HQ thought he was nuts riding a pushy into work, but all his mates understood. When you wake in the early morning with a light sweat and your hands tremble just ever so slightly, it’s a day to work the shit out of your system before the PTSD strangles you and you end under your hutchie in the scrub somewhere so you don’t take it out on the kids and the wife again.

There were now a couple hundred blokes he knew living rough because that’s what they knew. They could do that and keep the roof over the kids and the wife safe from the shit of the world. Some had lost out to the black dog completely and been found dead from an OD or gun shot. Shit of a way to die and the families were still left to suffer even more. The blokes always believed it would allow the family to move on from their trauma, but it never did.

Jim stopped mid stride. He hauled his phone of its pouch on his hip and swiped it open. Tapped the contacts, “Sparky, yeah, nah, get a display up and overlay all the areas not covered by our satellites.” Jim listened as Sparky got his beloved big show up and did as Jim asked. “Righto boss, it’s up!”

“What are the closest areas to where the event is in Ukraine?”

“Saudi and Israe … Oh shit, on it Jim!”

Jim smiled and walked across to the Berlin Salon Cafe. It was new but fantastic food. They had light weight replica sections of the Berlin Wall as dividers for the alfresco outside and the different coffees were full flavoured and even Jeannie approved.

He sat sipping his long black waiting for the shit to hit the fan!