Recalling Destiny Read online

  RECALLING

  destiny

  The debut novel

  by MICHAEL R. BLINKHOFF

  part 1

  - -

  {Central Australian Desert – 30 years ago}

  A shovel hits the dirt, removing soil slowly from a steadily deepening hole. The pit being dug is deep, almost eight foot and is out in the middle of the desert in central Australia.

  A solitary figure stands guard at the top of the excavation, he is dark of skin and wearing only a loin cloth. He stands with only his left foot touching the ground, the other leg rests comfortably on his knee. He stands tall and still, his hands upon his hunting spear keeping him steady as he watches over the barren landscape. His eyes constantly scan the horizon, he is protecting a person below, in the pit.

  The person in the pit is very different to the one above, the skin is white and she is female. Unlike the scantily clad native, her body is covered head to toe with clothes. Despite the searing heat she always remains thus, protecting her skin from the harsh rays of the sun.

  Her hair is a strange mix of blonde, red and brown and is very unkempt, tied up at the back with a rubber band. She is very tall for a woman, taller than her companion and very lithe, a very noticeable mole rests on the bridge of her nose.

  Her exertions cause her to sweat profusely under the hot Australian sun. Her clothes, very damp, cling to her body like wet mud and suck at her skin every time she moves. But she has not tired the past few hours, nor relented under the heat of the sun. She has a set look to her face and is clearly determined to achieve her goal, no matter the conditions.

  She takes a moments reprieve to gulp down a sip of water from a canister she has with her and returns to digging the pit, committed until she finds what she is after.

  Looking around the immediate landscape you would see several other, similar such holes as the one she’s currently in, all now abandoned. She has been digging out here for some time.

  Alongside some of the other excavations are artefacts such the likes have never been seen on earth before. Ancient weapons, chunks of orichalcum with markings, masonry and gold.

  But these had seemingly been discarded, left as if they were of no importance.

  She was looking for something else.

  There are no roads here, no mountains and no creeks with water, there is no life. This is the desert, a harsh and barren landscape hundreds of miles from civilization. The only thing that lines the horizon is a beaten up old white Land Rover, though the red dirt covering it makes it seem almost as red as the landscape around it.

  The woman puts her canister back on the ground and continues digging. She fills a bucket with dirt and calls out in the native language to the man above her. He responds by pulling the rope attached to the bucket until it reaches the surface. He empties the bucket onto a large mound that has formed to the side, returns it back down the hole and stands again on one foot, staring into the horizon.

  This process repeats itself for another few hours until the man above calls out to the woman below, in the native tongue he tells her something approaches on the horizon.

  She asks him who approaches but he cannot make out the shapes out in the distance, the haze from the heat only makes them a slightly discernible, shimmering shadow.

  Another hour passes and the man calls again to the woman below, this time reporting that he can now see who approaches. She asks him who he sees and he replies with only one word, the word translated means dinner.

  The woman laughs in response, realising the other two men in her group must be returning with food, “This is good Wally!” She shouts aloud.

  “Aye Miss Alison, very good,” he replies.

  The woman in the pit decides she’s had enough digging for the moment and calls out for her companion above her, he responds by collecting a nearby ladder and positioning it inside the excavation. She climbs up and gets to the surface, dusting off her clothes as she squints her eyes at the two shadowy figures approaching.

  Soon the two figures in the distance join them at the pit, all smiling as they greet each other. The two men had left three days prior with a promise to find food and now returned with a small catch of rabbits, bugs and snake. They are all hungry, so immediately abandon work for the day and set about the task of preparing dinner.

  By nightfall their bellies are full, they rest by a campfire and tell Alison stories of the Dreamtime. The three dark men speak feverishly as they recall tales of a time before man, a time that only lived in the stories they told. The stories had been passed down through countless generations and bore a great wisdom of the land before time.

  It was not long after that their eyes became heavy and they fell asleep.

  The sun rose early the next morning and so too the small group, the woman taking time to escape the men to complete her private business. When she returns they’ve laid out a plate of food for her from the previous night’s meal, she sits down and eats it silently with pleasure.

  As she eats, she looks to see the three men have already set to the task of digging the pit, this time with two men inside digging and the third emptying buckets for them. The woman watches them with admiration in her eye, they have become her family over a very short time.

  Wally had been working with her father for years and it was he who had brought both Jirri and Ngwalu with him when she had asked for help with this project. Now both the young men powered through the earth with gusto, whilst Wally supervised from above.

  Suddenly one of the men cries out from within the pit, calling out that his spade has hit something beneath the earth. He calls out to Wally above him, who then turns to Alison, beckoning her to come urgently.

  Both men inside the pit fall to their knees on the ground and begin to dig at the earth with bare hands, slowly they wipe away at the dirt until a form starts to take shape inside the pit.

  The first sign they have found something is a tuft of hair, which they delicately brush the dirt from. Then, bit by bit, they slowly remove the earth around it until the outline of a human head can be discerned in the ground.

  The two men in the pit are both kneeling, looking at each other for guidance as they are unsure of what to do with the partially uncovered head.

  “Miss, come, must look,” one of them calls out loudly.

  The woman sticks her head over the lip of the pit and replies to them, “Have you found somethi ...” She stops herself, noticing the outline of a head at the bottom. She motions to them that she is coming down, but with room for only two in the pit one of the men must exit first.

  Quickly they trade places and she and the remaining man work away at the buried head for another few minutes until the face starts to become uncovered. The white woman and the black man stare at the face they have uncovered in the dark of the pit, observing that it is a perfectly preserved face of a man. No blemishes, no decay, as if it were buried five minutes prior.

  A face of black man with no discernible descent.

  “Is it him?” the woman asks the darker man.

  “I do not know miss Alison.”

  “Who else right?” She mumbles to herself. “Dark skin, features …”

  Suddenly the buried heads eyes flick open wide, but the eyes are completely dark, void of any colour. The two reel back instinctively at the movement of the eyes and are unsure of what to do. But the eyes soon change colour, replaced by a darker blue and a pupil at the centre.

  The pupil focuses.

  It looks at them.

  “Aye miss … it is him.”

  - -

  - -

 
Harrison

  He opens the door, inching his head out slowly to check the exterior before exiting the building. This habit is typical for him, Harrison is a wanted criminal. Even though its mid-morning in the city streets, he is very watchful.

  Satisfied nobody is watching his activities, he pulls the hood of his sweater down tightly, pops an earphone in one ear and takes off down the street brusquely. As he cautiously navigates the streets his ears begin to pick up a faint ringing, like a bell sounding in the distance. At first it doesn’t register as a threat to him and then he remembers himself and begins to feel a little pressure mount in his chest, as if the alarm bells are sounding for him.

  He is not a calm person, young Harrison, and his mind races with endless possibilities. Who are the bells for? They’re alarm bells, aren’t they? Damn, I hope I’m ok. What the hell is that noise?

  His pace quickens and he pulls a mobile telephone from his pocket, flicking a series of commands on it to bring up an app he custom designed to scan police communication systems. He listens intently via the earphones as he walks the city streets, frowning as he tries to discern the chatter over the police emergency line.

  What are they saying? Geez, I’ve really stuffed up now … Whooaaa!

  Suddenly, the wailing siren of a police vehicle sounds from behind him, coupled with the sound of an oncoming car, its engine revving at high gear.

  Bugger it! They’ve got me. Oh no!

  Harrison curses under his breath as he realises the police must have been watching him all along and had now sent a marked car in pursuit, to capture him. He stops dead in his tracks, his heart beating furiously in his chest as he turns to face his pursuer.

  Ignoring the police radio chatter in his earpiece, he turns and instinctively raises his arms in a supplicating gesture of defeat as the blue and white police vehicles descend upon him. Feeling like he is on the cusp of wetting his pants, he closes one eye and squints with the other as two marked police cars come into view and head straight for him.

  Whoosh!

  In an instant the two cars blow by him and continue on further up the street. Harrison is left standing in the street, with an odd look on his face.

  Perplexed, he stands there and watches as the two police vehicles speed down the street, take a right turn and disappear out of view. Confused, yet relieved, his hands fall back down and he bends over. Exhaling deeply and trying to slow his breath, he remembers the earpiece and turns his attention back to the chatter. Quickly he realises the police radio blaring in his earphones is not about him at all, the chatter is referring to another incident, an apparent bank robbery in progress.

  It’s not for me, phew! Thank the gods, man … thought I was done for!

  With a sigh of relief, he continues walking down the street with his head down, pulling his hoodie further over his head as he goes. He silently curses himself and his stupidity at not realising the situation when a loud bang sounds off in the street, followed quickly by another burst of loud taps. Harrison realises it’s the sound of gunfire that’s penetrating his ears and he ducks down instinctively, looking about him for its source.

  Another shot rings out, Harrison ducks again and searches around him for some kind of cover, any sort of protection from the gunfire. Seeing a large skip bin ahead, he quickly darts over and takes refuge behind it. Kneeling, he notices the street is deadly quiet, save for the sound of footsteps quickly approaching.

  Who’s shooting? What the hell, police cars, gunfire, what have I walked into? Is it for me?

  Fearful, yet intrigued, he pokes his head out from behind the skip to take a look and sees a dark-skinned man running hastily towards him. The man is impressively tall and lithe, obviously fit and muscular underneath the faded blue coveralls covering his body.

  As the man runs hurriedly down the street he catches sight of Harrison hiding behind the skip and stares straight at him, Harrison’s heart skips a beat in response. Their two eyes meet for only a moment and then the man continues on up the street, fleeing the scene.

  Harrison’s left kneeling on the pavement as if struck by lightning, dumbfounded at what he’s just seen. Did I just see the robber? Did he kill those policemen? I remember hearing gunshots but that man wasn’t carrying a gun. So what happened to those police cars that went by?

  He stands and can feel himself shaking, he is not the adrenaline seeking kind of person and it shows on him visibly. His mind races with a thousand thoughts and possibilities, his fear driving them on, perpetuating his timid state.

  Harrison is more of a digital adrenaline junkie, preferring to get his kicks out of a computer screen and internet connection than in real life. His heart races furiously inside his chest as a result.

  Still standing in the street like a stunned mullet, he thinks of the man who just fled by him and the moment they locked eyes with each other. Immediately a rush of calmness washes over him. It’s a strange feeling, as he starts to feel more peaceful just thinking of the man. Placid even to the point where a slight smile creeps up on his lips as he remembers the man’s eyes.

  Harrison, quite unusually, feels calm. His mind, almost always a million miles an hour, is still.

  A brief moment passes till he remembers his purpose, and shaking his head, makes sure the coast is clear before heading off in the same direction as the black man. But only moments after he makes his decision, Harrison must stop again as two police officers round the corner of a building behind him, brandishing their revolvers as they charge in his direction.

  Arrgh!! Harrison screams aloud this time, lowering himself to the pavement voluntarily as they come towards him at pace.

  “Get down, stay out of sight!” one of the officer’s yells to him as he runs past, the two continuing their pursuit of the black man up the street, guns raised and ignoring Harrison.

  Jesus! Harrison curses himself again as he stands back up and wipes the dust and dirt from the pavement off his clothes. His hands start shaking again, so he balls them into fists to try to release the tension he’s feeling.

  I’m guess I’m not going that way then it seems. He decides, turning around and heading in the opposite direction.

  He continues on determinedly and rounds the street where he sees a gathering of police vehicles outside the bank building that was apparently robbed. He knows he must go that way to get to his rendezvous point, but decides he should take the long way around. He is already half scared to death, so hastily changes direction to avoid policemen.

  Now in the city backstreets, he feels slightly safer and his pace frees itself as he realises he’s not in any real danger. Harrison knows too well the paranoia his mind can create.

  Calming himself he listens closely to the police scanners, which by now are mostly relaying information about the robbery. Although it seems nobody can locate the culprit and mixed reports of his location are rife over the radio.

  Gee, who was that guy? He had a strange look about him … Whatever, I’m just glad they weren’t after me!

  Just as his heart slows to manageable pace, Harrison again hears footsteps in the street, this time echoing from somewhere behind him. He turns, this time more casually, and looks back in the street to see two men coming towards him. He wets himself as he realises this time the two men, dressed completely in black fatigues, are coming for him.

  Destiny. Oh hell, those are Destiny men!

  They’re coming for me! Crap, run boy, run!

  He doesn’t have time to think, he just bolts, spurred on by his instincts of flight. He isn’t a fast runner but his panic enables an unusual speed, giving him an immediate advantage over his two pursuers.

  He runs hard, but quickly loses energy. The two men dressed in black give pursuit and although lose immediate ground, quickly catch up to a tiring Harrison. He knows it won’t be long before they catch him.

  Oh man, my legs hurt. Oh, please, where
is Truck?

  Staggering on his feet, he comes across a large parking garage and crosses its entrance quickly, barely taking notice of the vehicle waiting by the exit, paying the car park fee.

  Harrison crosses the driveway in front of the exit to the carpark, looks up again at the vehicle and has to do a double take when he realises the person behind the wheel of the car is a black man. His heart stops itself as he recognises the man from the street, who only moments before, fled by him with two police officers in pursuit.

  Gunshots. I heard gunshots, then this guy comes running. That is him right? What the hells he doing in that car?

  He distracts himself so much by his thoughts that he doesn’t notice several holes dotted along the front windscreen of the car. It’s not a sight anyone would normally pay heed to, as it almost looks like a trickle of bubbles on the glass. But it’s a very deliberate and uniformed line that runs up the length of the windscreen on the passenger’s side.

  Harrison staggers forward slowly across the carpark entrance, distracted because the black man in the car is looking him directly in the eye. He wears no expression in his face, it is neutral, but the look on Harrison’s is most obviously one of confusion.

  Harrison’s mind goes suddenly still as he labours forward, the second time a wave of calmness has come over him.

  Then the man in the vehicle, with eyes locked firmly on Harrison’s, does something unexpected. He floors the accelerator and drives the car straight at him, flying forward at breakneck speed.

  The last thing Harrison remembers is hitting the bonnet of the car and crashing headfirst into the windscreen.

  Then everything goes black.

  - -

  ma'am

  “Find me the bloody target!” A woman yelled aloud as she stood over a large group of people operating computers in what looked like a traffic control room.

  “Ma’am, the subject has disappeared from view,” said the female operator who sat closest, hands trembling in expectation of the reaction from her boss.