Skyquakers by A.J. Conway

beard. He was
an outback Santa Claus, dressed in a flannelette shirt and old jeans, held up
by a giant brass belt buckle in the shape of Australia.
    Jackrabbit shook hands with the gentleman. ‘ Good
to see you, Munroe. ’
    ‘Well, blimey, it’s Jack! Didn ’ t expect to
see you around here again. ’ He looked down at Ned. ‘ And
who ’ s this? ’
    Ned was grinning from ear to ear. Words simply escaped him.
    ‘You ’ ve dragged in another from the
wild, I see, ’ Munroe said.
    Jackrabbit nodded down at the boy. ‘This is Ted.’
    ‘Ned.’
    ‘This is Ned.’
    The old man shook hands with him. ‘ Nice to
meet you, young man. Welcome to Zebra Rock. ’

 
    There were thirteen settlers in total at Zebra Rock, most of
which formally knew each other before the storm. They all currently lived
together in an abandoned art gallery on the banks of the Ord, in a small
one-storey shed made of orange bricks and tin roofing, sleeping on old
mattresses and cooking over open fires outside. The gallery was called Zebra
Rock because of the unique black and white striped stones used here to sculpt
beautiful animals, bowls, vases, pendants, and knick-knacks. The bizarre rock,
embedded with stripes of both brilliant white and charcoal black, were quarried
from Argyle Lake down south, from a mine which was equally as famous for its
diamonds. The little gallery was a small museum of rare delicacies made by
local artists, but since the settlers arrived, it had been redesigned into more
of a home for wandering lost souls like Ned.
    Munroe owned the gallery with his elderly wife and artist,
Deborah. He was driving home in his truck when he saw his gallery be beamed by
the sky, and he raced home to find sweet Deborah gone. Being so remote,
surrounded mostly by farmland and bush, beams were infrequent during those
first days and before long, Munroe found himself alone. He had a storm shelter
with food, water and fuel stored up, wary of hurricanes and floods, and had
hardly budged an inch in the four weeks since the disaster. He drove his truck
into Ivanhoe once or twice, searching for people, but with no luck. The only
one he found was Jackrabbit, passing through from the Never Never .
The two camped out and spoke of the situation involving the sky, and Munroe,
too old and fat to go trekking the Top End from one coast to another, told him
to spread the word that he was here with open arms if any survivors were ever
found.
    In the early afternoon, under the shade of the gallery ’ s
veranda, all the settlers, including Munroe and Jackrabbit, pulled up chairs
and surrounded Ned with absolute fascination. They had plenty of food to go
around: homemade breads and canned fruits, Doritos and soft drink and enough
beer to last weeks. Ned savoured fresh bread lathered with Vegemite, as well as
sliced oranges and long life milk. By the banks of the Ord River, there was a
cool breeze, a blue sky, and shady greenery all around them. It was a beautiful
place, and for the first time in many weeks, Ned, surrounded by people once
more, felt complete again.
    As well as saving Ned ’ s life,
Jackrabbit had rescued the other settlers as well. He spent a week tracking
what appeared to be a large group of wanderers lost in the Kununurra .
He found twelve of them, dehydrated and on the brink of collapsing, and steered
them south along the Ord. The twelve were all marine biologists and research
students of Darwin University, ranging in age from early twenties to late
forties. They were all scuba diving on Veteran ’ s Day when
the storm came, examining the coral reefs, and emerged only to find all their
crewmen gone and their boats abandoned. They returned to shore to find the
startling vacancy of the city, instantly void of 130,000 people and amuck with
the littered remains of chaos. Like Ned, they spent their first week in a state
of confusion. They tried radios and phones to contact help, but all lines were
dead, and once the electricity went out,