Fidel - 15. On the Run

The conversion of the vehicles took two weeks during which friendship was cemented and changes were made to the physical appearance of the five wanted men. Jon, who had some experience of dissimulation, suggested subtle changes to the way they walked, stood and held their bodies when listening.

‘From what you’ve told us there are loads of people who know you, from the workmen and equipment providers of the gym, to clients, all of whom will recognise the way you move as easily as your face. You all tend to stand very straight with heads erect, and your movements are precise yet graceful. You're typical athletes. To fool people you’ll have to resemble the rest of the human race and slouch slightly, stumble occasionally, and stop looking so agile and self-confident. As for your heads, Bart and Robert’s neatly manicured beards must become full and slightly unkempt, and Fidel’s full beard must disappear. Arnold’s smooth face will be enriched by a sculpted beard and moustache, and Hylas’s long hair will be shorn to stubble, while his moustache must blossom.’

‘There’s not much of it.’

‘Enough to hide your top lip and confuse the viewer.’

‘Should we dye our hair?’

‘And have the endless problem of touching up the roots? No. Disguises must be simple, easy to maintain and require no special effects. All you have to do is practice being slightly awkward or hesitant in both conversation and movement. Think of someone like that and try to be them.’

They each decided on a persona, practiced in private then tried it in front of the others.

‘You're like American sitcom actors, zero subtlety,’ Jon declared with a laugh. ‘Your ideas are good, but tone them down at least ninety percent so you don’t look like clowns. A slight change is not only best, but possible to maintain for as long as you like. We don’t want limps, hump backs, twitching eyelids and slavering mouths. Hylas you looked as if you had St. Vitus’s dance.’

Soon they all discovered a slight variation of body language they could remember and maintain without effort. For several hours a day they practised, relying on the others to tell them when they slipped out of character.

No one was looking forward to parting. But days have a habit of drifting by and suddenly they were packed, and ready to go.

‘You’re the best guests anyone could wish for,’ Peter said with a sad smile. ‘You don’t need entertaining, we’re not constantly wondering if you're bored, and you pitch in so easily it’s as if we've lived together forever. Promise you’ll come back!’

‘We promise, and you must promise to keep out of trouble. I've been thinking,’ Bart continued with some diffidence, ‘that it'd be great if we could think of this beautiful place as our safe house. Sort of a Shangrila; a place to escape to if things get too hot. But of course only after taking every precaution possible to ensure we aren't followed. Rest assured we will never ever tell anyone about this spot. The forests, the sunsets over the hills, the lake, the birds, the peace… it really is a slice of paradise—and all thanks to the effort and wills of you two men. An accurate reflection of your characters.’

‘You mean a bit rough around the edges, uncultivated and getting old. Luckily, we don’t take offence easily, so you’ll all be welcome here at any time, without notice. But we would like to know that you're Ok, so drop us a line at Maximillian’s Art Gallery from time to time, as if you're making a normal inquiry. You don’t have to say anything, it’ll just let us know you're still free and lovely. Now go before we burst into tears.’

After last hugs, the newly refurbished vehicles drove quietly around the lake then vanished into separate tracks through the forest, having arranged to meet later that afternoon on the Esplanade at Hervey Bay.

The drive was uneventful. The vehicles performed superbly. The landscape changed from verdant hills to kilometres of flat, dull road through melaleuca swamplands until just when they thought they'd never get there, a slight rise offered a view of the bluest water they'd ever seen.

‘It’s because the bay’s almost land-locked,’ Arnold explained, ‘so the water gets extra salty and that makes it look so blue. In reality it’s virtually dead because of silting from toxic river runoff after heavy rain, and the bottom’s been scraped bare by trawlers that use the harbour as their homeport. It’s just around that point where the long jetty sticks out. Like all Queensland coastal retirement towns, if you go a street away from the water you'd not know you were near the sea.’

They entered the town along a wide, dual carriageway that resembled a racetrack, lined by vast shopping malls and other ugly trademarks of the consumer society. The rest of the place was furnished with the same architecturally uninspiring shops and car parks as every other town in the country, and as crowded with cars—the shops being so far apart only a marathon runner would attempt to do the shopping on foot.

The Esplanade was attractive, despite the traffic, and they followed the map to a jetty and changing shed where they’d arranged to meet, anticipating a refreshing swim. But the tide was out and the rickety jetty jutted into mudflats that oozed an unappetising stench where someone had gutted fish. Even a troupe of pelicans weren't tempted. The three men perched on a rock retaining wall, keeping an eye out for Bart and Robert while Hylas read bits from a newspaper he’d found beside the rubbish bin.

‘Fuck! Listen to this. Women who do not cover their body in public, including their hair, will be publicly whipped like the whores they are.’

‘How old’s that paper?’

‘Hylas checked. ‘Last week. We’ve not been keeping up with things.’

‘They're mad! They want to take us back to the Middle Ages. Soon they’ll be burning witches. Yet another reason to be glad I'm not a woman.’

Half an hour later Robert and Bart joined them.

‘It was nerve-wracking waiting for you to arrive,’ Fidel said, vainly attempting to sound calm. ‘I always assume the worst. For the last twenty minutes I've been imagining that you’ve broken down, had a crash, have both been killed, or were stopped by JECHIS vigilantes and stoned to death. I’m not mentally tough enough to live in constant fear in a police state.’

‘Well, we do live in a police state, so we’re all going to have to get used to it and stop worrying ourselves into an early grave. Tell ourselves worrying doesn't help; it will change nothing. What will happen will happen.’

‘That's all very well, but I reckon we also ought to pledge on the graves of our ancestors or something equally nebulous, to always take no risks.’

‘I’m with you on that. No point in being brave and noble if it endangers ourselves. Our lives are more important to us than the lives of others, so we should promise never to risk our freedom to protect or assist other people.’

‘Right you are, Bart. You work on the wording and we’ll have a ceremony tonight and swear the noble oath.’

‘Can we also drink each other’s blood—you know, become blood brothers like in the stories?’

‘Arnold! You! An ex cop entertaining such puerile romantic notions.’ Robert grinned. ‘Sounds brilliant! Tonight it is.’

They ate their packed lunch on a patch of sand below the rock wall, not trusting the hygiene of a public picnic table and seats. While they gazed across the mud to tiny wavelets that heralded the incoming tide, a young couple came down the steps, nodded a greeting, then spread their towels about five metres away before removing their clothes to reveal Speedos on him and a very modest one-piece bathing suit on her. While oiling themselves they said they’d come up from Melbourne to escape the cold and would wait for the tide to come in so they could take their first swim in the sub-tropics.

Hylas showed them the newspaper announcement.

Their faces turned white—literally.

‘But surely, I mean, they can’t… can they? Do you think I’d better…

Too late. A policeman was already descending the steps and flicking open his whip-stick. ‘Cover yourself instantly!’ he snarled, casting a quick look over his shoulder as if he was being watched.

‘I’m sorry. I'm sorry! I didn’t know and I’m not showing any….’

The policeman slashed his whip-like stick across her shoulders. ‘Don’t argue!’

She cowered back in horror; a red weal already visible. The man leaped to his feet, wrapped his arms around her and glared up at the officer of the law. ‘What did you do that for?

‘Queensland law now states that women must cover themselves in public. Only the hands and face may be visible. This woman is breaking the law. What is her relationship to you?’

‘My wife. But we didn’t know. We’ve only…’

‘Aren't you ashamed to have a wife displaying herself like a whore?’

‘She wasn’t! she…’

The stick left a matching red weal across the young man’s shoulders.

‘You are still naked, woman!’

She quickly dressed herself, whimpering, shaking so much her husband had to assist.

The policeman watched, frowning as if silently apologising for his actions. ‘Next time you will be publicly humiliated and punished severely.’ His voice was no longer harsh. ‘I suggest you take this incident as a very lucky warning. When Protection Officers replace Policemen you'll not get off so lightly. They’ve been trained to deal mercilessly with all who break the laws or argue with the representatives of JECHIS. If you question their actions and decisions as you did mine, you will be stoned to death.’

‘Thank you, sir. We are very grateful for your mercy.’ The young man remained with his head bowed, as if waiting for permission to move.

The policeman nodded acceptance of the apology, turned to the five onlookers and asked almost hopefully. ‘Do you agree?’

‘Absolutely,’ Arnold said, nodding to confirm it. ‘You have been very professional, officer. I gather, since you didn’t reprimand the woman’s husband, that Speedos are fine?’

‘Yes. Men may wear as much or as little as they like.’

‘Even naked?’

The cop shrugged. ‘It would seem so. At least it’s not expressly forbidden in the rulebook they gave us. You really should read the papers if you want to be safe.’

‘You are a good man, officer,’ Bart said softly. ‘Thank you.’

‘Please excuse my asking,’ the husband said in a suitably chastened voice, ‘But why are men free to dress as they like but women not?’

The cop placed his hands behind his back and gazed up at the sky, clearly trying to recall something. He failed, frowned, took a small black book from his pocket, flicked through to a page, opened it, nodded, then read slowly, ‘God made man in his image, therefore the male mind and body are perfect and should be worshipped. Women are imperfect copies—weaker in mind and body, created by god for the sole purpose of serving man and incubating his children. Their shape is superficially similar to man, but it is an insult to god to expose anything so imperfect.’ With an embarrassed frown the police officer closed his book and strode away along the beach.

The woman subsided into silent sobs while her mortified husband draped his towel over her head and, without looking at the other five men, shepherded her up the steps to their car.

‘That poor woman!’

‘That poor cop. He was obviously worried to seem less than severe in case he was being watched.’

‘Yeah, but how can they write that crap. Surely they know that every animal that reproduces sexually has different male and female forms! It’s essential for survival!’

‘Of course they do, but they don’t believe humans are animals—we’re the special creation of god.’

‘I'm not looking forward to meeting the… what did he call them?’

‘Protection Officers. I saw something about them on a previous page. Hang on.’ Hylas rifled through the newspaper, scanned the text then looked up in horror. ‘To counter the increase in violence among a minority of citizens, the Triumvirate has issued pardons to all fit prisoners under forty who have shown themselves ready to accept and enforce the rule of god. A special uniform had been designed that will instil respect for the Officers, make wrongdoers fear god’s anger, and proclaim the impartiality of justice.’

‘That's how they managed to empty the prisons!’

‘There’s a photo.’

The others crowded round to look. ‘They look like cyborgs . Black from head to toe.’

‘It’s almost the same uniform worn by the guards of the administrator.’

‘I suppose making them look like robots is what they mean by emphasising the impartiality of justice. What’s impartial about treating women differently from men?’

‘But they do look sort of sexy, as if they’ve been melted down and poured into their suits.’

‘I wonder if what he said about male clothing is true. If it is, then it makes you wonder if our little talk about nudity with those inspectors has influenced the bosses.’

‘It can’t be that; commonsense can never infect a religious mind. I reckon we’ll find there’s some other, more devious design in their newfound tolerance.’

‘You're probably right. Meanwhile, I suggest we act like typical tourists for a bit, in case we’ve been noticed.’

After an hour wandering up and down the beach and adjacent streets they agreed that visiting Fraser Island would be stupid because there'd be security cameras at the ferry terminals, and as there was nothing else in the town that attracted them, there was no excuse for remaining in such an urban desert. They packed up and continued north, keen to put as many kilometres between themselves and Brisbane as possible.

The Bruce Highway is the link between the north and south of the state. It runs more or less up the centre of the coastal plain. A score of kilometres to the east is the Pacific Ocean and the Great Barrier Reef, and roughly the same distance to the west is the Great Dividing Range. Beyond the ranges, vast tablelands, plains and deserts stretch unbroken for three thousand kilometres to the Indian Ocean.

They decided only to visit places on the eastern side of the highway to avoid the bible belt of towns and villages on the western side, which were notorious for being against everything, and in favour of nothing except traditional Christian values of hating everyone and everything they didn’t like or want to do themselves.

‘I wonder what the bible bashers think of JECHIS.’

‘They’ll love their treatment of women, but might be upset at having their preachers shot and stoned and their churches destroyed. Still, you can never be certain about what goes on in a religious mind. They're probably all delighted at having a real warlord to lead the Christian Soldiers Marching as to War.’

That evening they drove several kilometres off the highway along a narrow, sandy side road till they found a stand of trees enclosed by a wire fence. They opened the sagging gate, drove carefully until concealed, closed the gate and prepared for the night. After eating they sat in a circle and Bart read the pledge he’d been working on since lunchtime. It was very simple.

“I promise to ensure my safety first, that of Robert, Fidel, Arnold and Hylas second, and others only if there is absolutely no danger to us five.”

They each repeated it, changing only the names, pricked their thumbs between the nail and the joint, then squeezed out a drop. Turning to the person next to them they licked off the other’s blood. After this rite had been solemnly repeated with the other three, they sat in unembarrassed silence for several minutes.

‘That was eerie,’ Robert whispered. ‘It felt as if I was doing something strange and special. I loved you all before, but now it’s something different, stronger, more powerful.’ He turned to the others who were watching him and nodding as if to confirm their own feelings.

‘Yeah. It was sort of uncanny. For a few seconds I felt as if we were all one person.’ Arnold was also whispering.

‘I almost get what religious people mean when they say they feel god when they pray,’ Hylas mumbled.

‘It didn’t feel weird, but it did make me see everything with unusual clarity, especially the fact that it’s essential we each take care of ourselves so the others can concentrate on looking after themselves and then we’re all in a position to take care of each other except that we won’t need to because…’ Bart looked around with an embarrassed grin. ‘Yes, I know that sounds obvious, but nothing’s obvious when you're facing the insane situation of an intelligent, rational species allowing itself to be taken over by a bunch of crazy witchdoctors who reckon god wants us to do what they want, and not what we want, because they're special…’ his voice drifted off. ‘Humans really are the pits. Thousands of voices of reason and wisdom have been raised over the millennia, all telling us the same thing. We humans are on the wrong path. The road to contentment, fulfilment and satisfaction lies in simplicity and accepting the restrictions of the natural world in which we evolved and which has sustained us so far. Peace will arrive when we treat everyone—men, women, children and all of nature with respect.’ He shook his head in despair and fell silent.

‘What is crystal clear to me,’ Fidel said carefully, ‘is that despite our best efforts to be decent, we five have had zero effect on what’s happening. We’re like the victims of a tsunami, caught up in a huge wave, tossed around, in danger of losing our lives, having no idea what will happen or where we’ll end up. We’re completely outside this thing. It has nothing to do with us and we can have no lasting effect on it. What will happen will happen because it is the inevitable consequence of human nature. We five owe no one except each other anything. We must remain outside the catastrophe; keep our heads when all about are losing theirs, and…’ he paused.

‘And then we will be men, my son,’ Bart added. ‘Fancy you knowing Rudyard Kipling’s ‘If’. Fidel, your hidden depths are a constant delight.’

That night they slept fitfully, their minds ordering and reordering ideas, priorities and plans. All were sombre at breakfast, but no one felt the need to explain, knowing they all felt something similar. They were alone. Five men whose sole function was to keep their heads above the rising tides of insanity while searching for a safe haven. That was the extent of their plan. Yet it soothed them because even a flimsy plan will calm the nervous spirit, make strong men stronger and permit laughter and pleasure even in impossible adversity. Uncertainty, on the other hand, breeds insanity.

Having no schedule, no time restrictions, no strategy other than to maintain their freedom, they continued north on the Bruce Highway taking every side road that looked interesting, meeting up for meals and following each other towards dusk to find a suitable place to drive off the road and camp for the night.

Exploring the coastal strip was more interesting than pleasurable. Interesting in the way their preconceived notions of tropical Queensland were upended. Backed by a range of low mountains, the land was either flat, dry, cattle grazing grassland dotted with the occasional scruffy tree, or it was covered in sugar cane farms. Every now and then a road or track led down to swamps or streams or beaches; the popular ones of which were bordered by low sand dunes and a row of suffering coconut palms, imported to attract retirees from the cold south to squander their savings on dull housing estates indistinguishable from every other middle class suburb in the state.

Supermarkets and stores were patronised by women in shapeless dresses and headscarves, looking hot and irritable while men were mostly relaxed and cool in wide brimmed hats, shorts and open shirts or tank tops. Some were even going shirtless! After years of being told by their women that their bodies were not attractive, the new law that proclaimed their maleness to be quasi divine, revived a half forgotten, ancient pride in being a man.

The beaches were usually empty of human life apart from a few hopeful anglers, because the tide was either too far out to swim, or there were dangerous rocks concealing stonefish and other nasties such as lethal box jellyfish. Crocodiles and sharks were an added disincentive to putting one’s toes in or near the water. There weren't even any waves because of the Barrier Reef. Where swimming was possible, Speedos were enjoying a revival after forty years of female ridicule, while loose slacks, blouses and headscarves were de rigueur for women. Poetic justice, Fidel’s Five decided.

Finding places to park and sleep undisturbed was not easy. Fences kept strangers out of tick-infested farmland, forests were few and far between, and cane farmers patrolled their fields, rightly terrified that careless campers might set fire to their crop. Instead of a tropical wilderness, North Queensland was looking the same as every other ex British colony—clear felled and raped for profit, while indigenous plants and animals were despised and destroyed.

After several months they arrived in Rockhampton and straddled the Tropic of Capricorn like all good tourists. The magnificent Colonial civic architecture won their admiration, but the rest of the sprawling city was a delight to leave, especially after being accosted by two of the regimes newly minted Protection Officers. Robert and Bart had stopped to look in a shop window while the others wandered down to the riverfront.

‘Oh dear,’ Arnold whispered, ‘we are about to be waylaid by two guys who want to protect us.’

‘Shit, look at them. Who’s going to protect us from them?’

Until then, if they'd seen a Protector in the distance they'd made themselves scarce, so this was the first time they'd been close enough to get a proper look. The three dimensional reality was much more impressive than the newspaper photograph. The sole proof that the suit contained a human, not a cyborg, was a visible face. The remainder of their bodies was encased in skin-tight, black Kevlar jumpsuits with overlapping, platelike segments at elbows and knees for flexibility, and a moulded codpiece that left no doubt about the wearer’s masculinity. The effect was chillingly reminiscent of medieval armour.

A variety of impressive weapons including a handgun and whip-stick were attached to a wide black belt. The torso of the uniform was moulded to look like a well-developed chest and abdomen in the style of Roman armour. A heavy black zip from collar to navel provided entrance and exit. Calf length black boots protected the feet while a black helmet topped by a shiny metal spike did the same for head and ears. A smoky visor was ready to be pulled down in case of attack.

‘Are they real or from the set of the latest Dr Who movie?’ Fidel whispered as they approached.

‘They're sexily menacing.’ Hylas decided with a slight shudder. ‘More like robots than humans.’

‘I don’t believe those fake muscles reflect what's inside,’ Arnold sneered, ‘or that they fill those codpieces. Look at the guns and knives.’

‘Time to smile and be pleasant, guys,’ Fidel warned.

The Protection Officers sauntered up and stopped about half a metre in front of their target, hands on guns and sticks.

‘What're you doing?’ The tone sufficiently abrupt to make the most innocent feel guilty of nameless crimes.

The three young men smiled at the unpleasant, battle-scarred faces and explained they'd been admiring the magnificent old buildings on the riverfront.

‘Show us your papers.’

They were scanned carefully. ‘What're you doing in Rocky and what're your plans?’

Politely, with sufficient docility to please but not enough to arouse suspicion, they explained promptly and politely.

The taller Officer frowned suspiciously. ‘Why don’t you mind us asking you these questions?

Fidel wanted to laugh. The guy looked too tough to be asking such a revealing question. ‘Because you're doing your job,’ he replied, nodding seriously. ‘It’s men like you who are making the place safe for the rest of us.’

‘Yeah?’ The tone was surprised and the smile almost grateful. ‘Most people look at us as if we’re scum.’

‘Well you're not. You're going a good job, and you look really great in that gear. Is it hard to become a Protection Officer?’ Hylas’s eyes were wide in innocent admiration.

‘Pretty tough training, but you guys'd be able to do it.’ He looked down at himself somewhat self-consciously. ‘Yeah, the gear’s pretty cool. I expected it to be hot and sweaty, but it’s really comfortable; feels as if I'm not wearing anything.’ He moved closer to Hylas. ‘Feel it.’

‘Hylas reached out and stroked the jacket sleeve. ‘Yeah! It really is smooth.’ He giggled. ‘It’d be worth joining just to look like you.’

Fidel’s heart leaped into his mouth. Hylas was laying it on a bit thick; surely the cops would be suspicious. But they weren't. Basking in the admiration, they nodded cheerfully, wished them a good holiday and moved on.

Robert and Bart, who’d observed the interaction from a distance, were relieved at the outcome, but warned them not to expect all the Protection Racketeers to be so simple.

That evening they followed yet another rough sandy track east, only to be stopped by a gate warning trespassers they'd be shot. They didn’t want to go back so they turned north off the track and drove blindly into the thin scrub, heading vaguely northeast. It was very rough going, and they loudly praised Jon and their four-wheel-drive vehicles, especially when each required a tow at different times. After half an hour the scrub thinned on the right and they realised they'd reached the rear of the low dunes that lined the coast. A hundred metres further and progress was halted by deep creek on the far side of a small clearing in the trees. It was secluded, protected from wind, and once the engines were turned off, the air filled with the sound of birds.

‘Lets stay here forever.’

‘Well, a week at least.’

Robert and Bart’s portable television couldn’t find a signal, but Arnold’s radio could, so after a meal they lay back swatting at mosquitoes and listening to the daily news roundup. As usual, sports results and commentary took up most of the time, followed by the weather, then the daily JECHIS report. After announcing the government’s latest successes, including seven new orphanages for homeless boys and the opening of a teacher training centre that would provide enough new male religious indoctrination teachers for all the newly created boys schools, a list of miscreants was read out with their punishments. Eleven public whippings for arguing with policemen, not wearing a headscarf, listening to headphones in a public place. Three women had been stripped and publicly humiliated for disobeying their husbands.

As usual, the list of punishments was followed by the proclamation of new laws, rules and restrictions, and as usual it was introduced by a homily about how the people had brought it upon themselves.

After mentioning a small bomb that exploded in the Roma Street Transport Centre, doing no damage, the announcer said gravely: ‘After days of prayer, the Triumvirate has decided that the citizens of the Holy State of Queensland have so far overstepped the behavioural boundaries of what God intended that new restrictions will be imposed to curb increasing cupidity, immorality, depravity, corruption, sexual and religious deviance.

‘Henceforth: It is forbidden for women to wear cosmetics and jewellery in public. Abortions are illegal. All sexual activity between men and women outside marriage is forbidden. No woman may appear in public alone. At all times she must be accompanied by a male family member. Whoever publicly opposes any of these changes will be put to death.’

The midday official radio news bulletin reported that eighty-five men and women had been shot dead in the street outside government buildings where they were protesting.