The First Last Day

1

The First Last Day A short story By

Gunter O. Swoboda

Gunter O. Swoboda P.O Box 655 Mona Vale NSW 2103 +61299990429 0412 371 503 [email protected] Registered WGA

First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

2

A laser-like beam of sunlight cut through the only crack in the blind. It’s unsuspecting target was Sean’s peaceful, sleeping face. When the light found the hooded eyes, the young boy squinted and then peered out seeking to source where the offending light had come from. Yawning, Sean stretched his lanky body out, his arms reaching over his head while his feet protruded beyond the bottom edge of his doona, making the covering appear much too short. He looked around his room and then cleared his throat. ‘Computer, what time is it?’ A disembodied female voice replied in those seductive dulcet tones that were suggestive of some X-rated video boys Sean’s age were not supposed to have access to, but somehow always managed to get a hold of and watch repeatedly under the cover of secrecy. ‘It’s six o’clock, Sean. It is the first day of your summer holidays.’ Instantly Sean’s languid reclining frame sprang into life and, like an uncoiling spring, he leapt out of bed and landed nimbly on the floor. Well, that is what would have been the case had Sean taken the time to clean his room and move a pile of discarded books, clothes, and other odds and ends. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed under his breath as his right foot hit the hard corner of an ancient history text. It had dug into the vulnerable arch of his foot and sent unrelenting signals of pain searing up his leg. Between the stuff on the floor and holding onto his foot, he was barely able to keep his balance. Irritated, he hobbled across to the window. ‘Computer, blind.’ He growled. The blind retracted languidly, allowing the morning sun to slowly illuminate the rest of the room in a glorious yellow. Sean looked outside where he was quickly seduced by that unmistakable feel of a new summer. He instinctively sniffed the air which brought with it all the promise it could First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

3

hold for a kid about to head off on a break from the drudgery of school; freshly mown grass, the distinct odour of suntan lotion and the hint of frangipani. All of it signaling fun in the sun. Sean leant against the window sill, rubbed his still aching foot while looking down onto the driveway where his father, Mike, was busy packing the family RV. Mike was a fit looking man in his late thirties with a broad muscular frame and a shock of black curly hair framing an open and friendly face. His tanned skin and the deep lines around his eyes, radiating out towards the his temples, suggested he had spent a lot of time in the sun. He looked up towards Sean’s bedroom window and grinned broadly. ‘Time to give me a hand, mate!’ A painful hollow in the middle of his body reminded Sean that packing was not going to be his immediate priority. ‘But Dad!’ he protested loudly. ‘You can have breakfast with me once the car’s packed.’ Mike shook his head knowingly and smiled, amused by Sean’s plaintiff plea. Sean was easily bribed. He knew that breakfast with his father meant a mountain of bacon and eggs, a huge pot of freshly roasted coffee, and stacks of pancakes. It was an indulgence his mother rarely provided, for the simple reason that it allowed breakfast with Mike to become a special occasion, usually signaling a holiday of some sorts. ‘OK, I’ll be down in a minute,’ he called out. Sean turned around and skipped cautiously across the floor. In the middle of the room he stopped and, bending over, extracted a lighting blue pair of board shorts and a grey T-shirt from the unruly pile on the floor. He quickly slipped the shirt on and then stepped into the shorts, running his hand across the fly and the material sealed seamlessly. Stepping over the stack of stuff, Sean leapt into the hallway and took off down the stairs, past his mother, Jo, a petite woman with a cheeky blond bob and sparkling blue eyes. First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

4

‘Good Morning, Mum.’ Jo’s somewhat sarcastic greeting reminded Sean that a little politeness would be in order. He slid to a stop, turned and pecked her on the cheek. ‘Morning, Mum.’ ‘That’s better. Now go and give your father a hand.’ Jo gave Sean a loving pat on the backside as the boy resumed his run out to the driveway. Alongside the RV was a pile of luggage, camping equipment, and sport gear of all sorts all waiting to be stored in the RV, while on the roof Mike had already secured several longboards and on top of those a number of short boards. ‘So, Sean, excited?’ ‘Sure! I can’t wait to get going!’ ‘Well, you know the drill. The sooner we can get this packed, the sooner we can have brekky and get on the road.’ Mike lifted another bag off the ground and handed it to Sean who stowed it carefully into the back of the RV alongside several other bags. ‘Your mother and sister are pretty well organised.’ He patted the bags while shifting another slightly closer to the inside wall of the vehicle. At that moment Sara, Sean’s ten year old sister struggled into view, carrying another bag. She could barely keep from dragging the piece of luggage on the ground and from time to time one end of the bag scraped noisily along the concrete of the driveway. Sean quickly stepped towards her. ‘Here, let me take it.’ Sara breathed an obvious sigh of relief as her brother took the heavy bag from her and loaded it into the vehicle. ‘Thanks! It was ripping my arms off,’ she said, rubbing her right elbow. She turned and quickly ran back into the house. ‘Where are we stopping first. Dad?’ First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

5

‘I thought we’d head straight to Crescent Head. We’ll have had a good breakfast. No need to stop off anywhere.’ Sean nodded. The drive usually only took them three and a half hours and he had collected a bit of a stash of goodies to tie him over till they got to their destination. A few choc bars, a bottle of drink, some chips. Sean’s stomach growled at the thought of the food. ‘Any surf?’ he asked his father. ‘The latest is that by the time we get there, a three to four foot swell will be wrapping around the point, with a nice offshore breeze.’ Mike grinned at Sean. ‘Just enough to feather the lip.’ ‘So, what are you waiting for, Dad?’ They laughed and picked up the pace loading the RV and in no time they were heading back inside where Mike got busy preparing their generous breakfast. As they sat around the large family table, the light hearted banter fuelled the excitement of spending the next month simply enjoying the summer and the surf on the North Coast. A little later the whole family was sitting comfortably in the RV. The automatic pilot had engaged the very moment the vehicle had hit the express way, slotting the RV into the remotely regulated traffic system that maintained their vehicle at an appropriate distance from the rest of the traffic. At an average speed of two hundred kilometers an hour Crescent Head was within easy reach for a normal weekend away and Mike and Jo loved the surf break enough not to feel the need to venture further afield. While the kids sat in the back amidst a host of things to occupy them on the drive, Mike and Jo sat quietly up front each taking in the scenery as it flashed past them. A forceful ping from the iphone alerted Mike to a newly arrived message and he flicked it on to view.

First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

6

‘There’s been a cancellation at the camping ground.’ He paused and looked inquiringly at Jo. ‘The cabin closest to the point is now available and they’ve just offered it to us. Do you want to take it? It’ll be a couple of hundred credits more for the holiday.’ ‘Sure, why not.’ She grinned. ’Then we’ll be even closer to the surf than before and if the tide gets too high we’ll get wet feet.’ Mike didn’t respond to her light-hearted banter but simply nodded, tapped out a reply and clipped it back into its dashboard fitting. He sat back and continued to peruse the passing scenery. It was as if a sudden, dark cloud seemed to manifest in the cabin of the car. He spoke, softly, almost to himself. ‘The warming seems to be accelerating. The reactors aren't doing the job we’d hoped for.’ Mike paused. ‘We tried to tell them but no, they had to have their way.’ Jo looked across at Mike. She frowned at her husband, her concerns etched deeply into her forehead. ‘Mike, you did the best you could. All of you did.’ She paused for a second, an invisible hand wiping the frown from her face. ‘Now, no more work, ok? We’re here to have a good time with the kids and just unwind.’ Mike tore himself away from his intense scrutiny of the landscape. He looked at Jo and his face, too, relaxed. ‘Promise.’ He sighed and shifted his weight in his seat, which in turn reclined as if responding to some unspoken command. Slowly he closed his eyes to drift off into a welldeserved sleep. *** As they took the freeway exit at Kempsey, the RV switched to driving mode and Jo confidently took charge of the vehicle, negotiating the winding road that would lead them to their destination. Coming into the camping area, Jo slowed the vehicle down to walking pace, conscious of the campers milling about their tents, cabins and winnebagos.

First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

7

Some of the crowd were heading along the path towards the point, most were carrying surfboards of one description or another. All of them sported the different coloured armbands that signified their turn in the water. Reds would surf with reds, blues with blues and so on. Mike watched them from the car, a wry smile curling the corner of his mouth. He had read about the days before the licensing and armband system had been introduced sixty years ago at all the major surfbreaks. It worked, in a way, although there were the mavericks who still refused to comply. They risked banishment from the beach but most were too skilled in evading detection and arrest. These ‘break rats’ were a nomadic bunch that would turn up at a beach or point-break, surf for as long as they could without a hassle and then disappear only to turn up at another beach somewhere to flaunt the rules again and the cost of a license. As Jo pulled the RV into the carport of their cabin the back of the vehicle erupted with Sean and Sara’s excited voices. ‘Can we go out for a surf straight away? We can unpack later, Mum!’ She quickly jabbed Sean in the ribs who winced in mock pain. ‘Check out that wave, Sean!’ Sean pushed his sister into the corner of her seat, laughing. ‘Yeah, Dad! Let’s go now. We can get the RV unpacked after our surf.’ As the back of the car broke down into playful chaos, Jo took charge of the mayhem and firmly called out above their clamouring voices. ‘HEY, KIDS!’ The din in the back stopped and she dropped the volume of her voice. ‘Slow down. We need to unpack some of the things because we need to get to some of the gear.’ Sean and Sara were about to protest when Jo raised her hand, pulling them firmly into line. ‘We don’t have to do the lot, but some of it needs to be done now, OK?’ Sara wanted to continue to argue but Sean wrapped his hand gently around her mouth, making her grapple with the sudden restraint. ‘Ok. Let’s do it, Sa.’ First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

8

The two kids eagerly jumped from the car and ran to the back. The tail gate opened smoothly and the two started to quickly unload the back while Mike unhooked the boards from the roof frame and placed them on the patch of green lawn in front of their cabin. He turned and took the two steps up to the front porch of the hut in one stride. ‘Mike Turner, unlock.’ The auto-security system of the cabin obliged, obediently allowing the front door to slide open. ‘Home, sweet home.’ Mike muttered to himself. *** Twenty minutes later the Turner family was lined up on the concrete platform that jutted out across the rounded stones that lined the edge of the point. Once, long ago, surfers would stagger perilously across the different shaped stones that lined the edge of the shore, intently watching the sets of waves washing across towards land. Choosing the right moment, they would then launch themselves into the break between the sets and paddle out. Someone, eventually, had decided to build a concrete platform from which to step out from, making the whole thing safer and more regimented. The queue of surfers the Turners had joined wound its way beck to the grassy slope and along the path. A siren suddenly sounded out, signaling the green’s to catch their last wave for their set and to return to the beach while on the concrete platform all the surfers with orange bands shuffled excitedly towards the end of the pier, ready to leap into the surf to take their turn at scoring what ever the ocean had on offer. The siren cut through the air again and one by one, the orange banded surfers launched into the ocean like a row of penguins. Sara turned and looked her mother who gave her a reassuring look.

First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

9

Sara smiled back, turned and launched herself into the ocean. As she and her board hit the frothing, white water she started to paddle furiously towards the back of the take off point, eager not to get caught in the relentless churning sea crashing along the rocky shore. Sean meanwhile slipped into the water like a sleek otter. A fast and powerful paddler, he reached the take off zone at the same time as his sister. Both sat up and surveyed the horizon, eagerly waiting for the next wave. They didn’t have long to wait. Sitting deeper than anyone else, Sean quickly turned his board and paddled into the swell. He easily got to his feet and as the board picked up speed along the green wall. He faded left and then brought the longboard in a smooth arc to the right, releasing it to accelerate once more. He then let the board drop down the face a little and, with a slight shifting of his weight, stalled it. Two quicks steps forward and he was riding the nose. Elated by the feeling of hanging at the end of the board, Sean continued to trim it, he finalised his choreography with a couple of steps back to flick off the wave. Back to lying prone on the board and paddling out to the point, he watched his mother position herself on a wave. She elegantly trimmed the board into the curl, her hand hand reaching out, caressing the white foam bubbling at the edge off the clear, green water. Sean smiled and waved to her as she flicked off. At that instant Sara picked her wave. She paddled hard but as she was just about to get to her feet the wave pitched mercilessly forward and she was buried under the white water. Seconds later she surfaced, spluttering and spitting the salty water out. ‘Bad luck!’ Sean called out to her. Irritated Sara poked her tongue out at her brother who in turn grinned at her and gave her the finger. ‘Don’t be a smart ass, Sean! You know she hates that.’ Busy teasing his sister, Sean was surprised by his father sudden appearance. ‘Just kidding, Dad!’ he replied lightheartedly. First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

10

Moments later Mike punched in for a late take off. He took the drop and smoothly trimmed the board along the clean wall. Arcing high across onto the wave, Mike set up an elegant drop knee turn into the foam and then seamlessly swung the board back along the face of the wave. Just behind his father, Sean took off on the wave behind. As he set up the drop for a long bottom hand turn, Sean suddenly got caught by the lip. Churned by the white water Sean shuts his eyes, blocking the surrounding light. *** ‘Sean, it’s me, Jenny.’ The mellow, melodious sound of Jenny’s voice penetrated the darkness in Sean’s head. With some effort, he squinted into the cold light of the lab. ‘Come on,’ the technician continued, ‘you’ve got another session tomorrow.’ Reluctantly Sean opened his eyes fully to the harsh glare. It took a few seconds before he could focus on his surroundings. When he did, the first thing he saw was Jenny’s ample cleavage with the word ‘HypnotechSolutions’ beaming from the fabric of her white blouse. Sean looked around the room. The white walls were lined with similar modular recliner units, all shaped like half-pods, some of them occupied with children and teenagers who appeared asleep. Above each unit a screen lit with a series of lights gave the technicians like Jenny immediate feedback on the occupant of the pod. At the other end of the room the stark emptiness of a blank wall dominated the sterile space. ‘Up you get.’ Jenny was persistent and Sean knew that there was no point dragging this out any longer. ‘OK, OK!’ He sat up, hanging his lanky frame from the edge of the bed and running his hand through his shock of blond hair that stuck up in chaotic spikes. ‘Good.’ Jenny smiled approvingly at Sean. ‘I’ll be next door.’ She affectionately tussled his hair, then turned and left the room. First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

11

While Sean got up, Jenny turned into the room next door. A sliding door hissed behind her, sealing her off from the corridor. A relatively young man in a white coat, Dr. Johnson, stood in front of a one-way glass wall allowing him to look into the lab where Sean was getting to his feet. Without turning to look at Jenny he asked, ‘What do you think?’ Despite his matter of fact demeanour, a note of concern underscored his voice. ‘He’s been through a lot,’ Jenny paused, frowning. ‘The evacuation process of most of the children was tough, but with the virtual programme ... I think he’ll adjust.’ She stopped, swallowing hard, suppressing the rising emotion. ‘He... They’ve lost everything; parents; home; a whole planet.’ *** Sean walked slowly across the room to the empty wall. He stepped up to it, reached out and, almost hesitantly, touched it. The surface of the wall suddenly rippled like the surface of a milky pond. A second later a breathtaking view manifested across the screen. He drew a sharp breath and stepped back, allowing him a better view of the scene. The characteristic red, dusty surface of Mars sprawled out in front of him towards a distant horizon. A deep valley cut across the vast plain below. Far in the distance he could see a huge dome suspended over the landscape while in the ochre sky tiny-looking aircraft and a huge, incoming spaceship animated the otherwise still setting. Sean raised his hand and waived it from left to right. The screen changed instantly, revealing the face of an attractive newsreader who’s modulated voice read the latest reports. Graphic images of tidal waves, shattered buildings and massive storms flashed before Sean. He watched with a blank stare. ‘Wednesday, 8th of August, 2188. Continuing earthquakes and extreme tidal waves continue to devastate vast tracks of Earth. The eight super-reactors designed to stabilise global warming more than a century ago have proven an ongoing liability. As Earth’s climate degradation First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda

12

accelerated in the past fifty years, rising sea levels and geological disturbances have continued to wreak havoc and several of the reactors have now been completely compromised.’ As Sean watched scenes of devastation flash before him, the newsreader suddenly paused. She put her hand to her ear, tilted her head and listened intently. ‘In devastating news just to hand the super-reactor on the Australian continent has exceeded critical limits and has gone into meltdown. Federation leaders have now come to the most difficult of all decisions. Final evacuations of the children of Earth to Moon and Mars bases and cities have been initiated. Sadly there are currently no reports of survivors from any of the major population centres in Oceania.’ The newsreader paused. ‘ This ends our current news bulletin for the Eighth of August. We now return you to our scheduled programme but will continue to keep you breast of any further news.’ Sean, tears streaming down his face, continued to stare silently at the disappearing image. His hand, levitated towards the screen in a slow arc and as his finger tips touched the screen, his lips silently shaping the words ‘Mum, Dad’. THE END

First Last Day

Gunter O. Swoboda