No Place For Heroes

Chapter 1 - The Blackout Begins

Three weeks earlier, the blackout began.  Initially, it was nothing out of the ordinary; power outages were not that uncommon, and it was considered unusual if a week went by without a few hours of it being cut.  Bimbimbie was located so far from anywhere that it was a miracle electricity even reached us.  

But when I woke that morning, it took just five minutes for me to realise something was wrong.  I was standing in the shower.  I turned the nozzle, but nothing happened.  Not a single drop of water leaked from the showerhead. 

Cursing, I stepped out of the shower and got dressed.  Before heading to the kitchen, I grabbed Tyler’s birthday card from my desk, intending to leave it on the bench before I left for work.

Mum was in a particularly unpleasant mood that morning.

“The bloody alarm didn’t go off,” she muttered irritably, rushing into the kitchen and buttoning her blouse. 

“That’s why you set your phone,” I said.  “It doesn’t need to be plugged in.”

Mum threw me a dirty look but didn’t say anything.  Then, opening the cabinet, she popped herself one of her pills and washed it down with some water from the fridge.     

“You still gonna have time to take Tyler to work?” I asked.

There was a long pause.  Mum looked at me, one hand still gripping the fridge door. 

“What?” I asked.

“Tell me you’re joking, Adam.” 

Mum often put my name at the end of a sentence like that.  It let me know I had either said something thoughtless or I was about to cop a lecture.

“Actually no, don’t tell me you’re joking.  Tell me you’re just stupid.  Tell me, Adam, please, that you’re stupid.”

“Mum, wha–?”

“It’s your brother’s birthday!” she hissed.

“I know that,” I said.  “I got him a card.”

Mum blinked, clearly thrown by this unexpected development. 

“You – really?” 

“Course I did.”

Mum gave me a suspicious, doubtful look – which was totally understandable, really, given my history – and then turned around and flicked the switch on the kettle.  It popped straight back up. 

“Shit.  I can’t even make a bloody coffee.”

“I’ll pour you a bowl of cereal.”

While I made myself busy, Mum walked around the bench and sat facing me.  I stole a quick glance at her.  She looked tired … more tired than usual.  She didn’t wear makeup anymore, but boy did she need to; her skin was dry and pasty.  Even her hair was unkempt, the grey roots gradually eroding the brown. 

I pushed the cereal under her nose.  Her lips cracked a faint smile.

“So why isn’t he going to work today?”

“Adam, for Christ sake, think before you ask stupid questions like that.  It’s a hard day for him, you know that.  He shouldn’t have to worry about work on top of everything.”

“But won’t a day by himself make it harder?  Shouldn’t he … I dunno … keep going as if, you know, today was just any other day?”

As soon as I said it, I heard how it sounded.  Mum looked appalled. 

“Remind me to slap you sometime, Adam,” she said.  “Honestly, sometimes I wonder … I really do wonder whether I’ve raised a psychopath…”

I deflected the conversation back to Tyler. 

“So wait, does he even know he’s not working today?”

“I’m letting him sleep in,” she said dismissively, avoiding the question.  “He deserves it, the amount of work he puts in at that school.  Not that you’d know what hard work’s like.”

Mum never missed an opportunity to deliver a snarky comment about my job.  It was second nature to her, and sometimes I wondered whether she even realised she was doing it.

“And I tried ringing the office to let them know he won’t be in today but my damn phone’s not getting any reception for some reason.  I shouldn’t have to ring them, obviously … they should know by now.”

She took a mouthful of cereal and immediately spat it out.

“That milk’s off.  Pick a bottle up today, would you?  I’ll just get a muffin from the store.”

She poured the milk and cereal down the sink.  Little did we know that, with no water to wash it down, it would sit there for the next three weeks.

“So you got him a card?”

“Yep.”

“Better than nothing, I s’pose.  Let’s see it, then.”

I pointed to the unsealed envelope on the bench.  Mum opened it, looked at the card and froze.  She stared at it for a few seconds, and it was difficult to tell whether she was about to scream at me or burst into tears.  She did neither; instead, she spoke in a tiny voice, one that clearly exercised all the restraint she possessed. 

“You can’t give this to your brother.”

I decided to act clueless.

“Why not?”

She closed her eyes for a few seconds.  “Look at the bloody card, Adam.  Just look at it.”

“Yeah?  It’s a picture of a group of guys having a beer.  So what?”

“So what?  So what?  Your brother’s decided not to drink, you idiot!  Jesus, Adam, of all the cards you could’ve got … don’t you think this day’s hard enough for him?  No, you can’t give it to him, it’s as simple as that.”

And she ripped the card in half, then into quarters. 

“Oi!  That cost me five bucks!”

“And you can fork out another five when you buy one that doesn’t throw your brother the giant finger!”  She tossed the shredded card in the bin.  “I can’t believe you’d –”

But she broke off; a tinkling bell sounded down the hallway.  It was Tyler letting Mum know he was awake. 

“Crap – your brother’s medication.”

A pregnant pause fell, during which Mum and I stared at each other.  Then –

“I said, crap – your brother’s bloody medication!”

With a start, I realised Mum was actually asking me to retrieve Tyler’s pills.

“Oh – right.  Where are they?”

Mum’s eyes popped.  Her whole face seemed to swell with toxic rage.

“What do you mean where are –?  Where they’ve bloody been for the past three years!  For Christ sake, Adam!”

I already knew this, or course.  Sometimes I just liked to get her fired up.  It amused me.

Mum stormed around the bench and threw open the same cabinet from which she had retrieved her own medication.  Sifting through the box of tablets, she withdrew Tyler’s anti-depressants and slammed the cabinet shut again.  

“Right, now don’t you dare tell your brother about that ridiculous card,” Mum said, suddenly flustered.  “It’ll just upset him.  And don’t even think about leaving for work without wishing him a happy birthday.  I’ll go get him up.”

Mum left the room, muttering furiously to herself.  I waited half a minute before deciding it was time to leave.  Grabbing my wallet from the bench, I snuck out the back door.