"Hey!" shouted Pastel. "What are you boys planning to do if that cyclone swings down this way?" He was standing at the entrance to the works shed, just inside the roller door in a high visibility raincoat of fluorescent green.
Outside it was heavily overcast and drizzling light rain. The Council works depot yard had turned into a red-brown mess. The concrete aprons at the entrance to the buildings were stained the same ochre-like colour as the normally dry dirt yard.
Schofield paused with the MIG welder in his hand and turned around to Pringle who was grinding metal. "Mick!" he shouted. "Stop for a minute."
Pringle stopped grinding and they both took off their earmuffs. The air was thick and hazy from welding smoke which was drifting upward and out of the open roll-a-door.
What was that, sorry?" asked Schofield returning to Pastel.
"What are you blokes planning to do if that cyclone swings south?" Pastel asked again.
"Are they saying it's going to come this way?" Schofield untangled the earth lead on his welder as he spoke.
"The Weather Bureau are not sure, but there is a chance. Where are you staying?"
"We are camped out near the dugouts - where they had that old World War 2 airstrip."
"You might have to get something stronger than that," Pastel replied. "This thing is a category 5 storm. Even if it misses us by a hundred kilometres your camp will still get blown away. You should think about staying in town."
Schofield looked at Pringle. "Ok. We'll call the boss and ask him what he wants us to do. He can pay for our accommodation. Do you know if there is room out at the airport cabins?."
"I don't think so. All the road crews are holed up there. But someone said that there is room at the Green House. You might be able to get in there."
"All right. We'll go and take a look."
Pastel looked at the frame they were building.
"Your department sent through the purchase order this morning for the trap materials. How's it coming along?" He surveyed the large aluminium framed structure that was rapidly taking shape.
"We're moving along nicely, here. A few more hours and we will be done," replied Pringle.
"Wow. It's huge!" Pastel walked over closer, dripping water from his raincoat onto the floor to mingle with the myriad of sand-like, aluminium grinding particles that littered the concrete surface around the frame. "How big is this croc?"
"I reckon he's about ten metres." Schofield looked at Pringle for confirmation. Pringle nodded.
"Nice. I'll leave you to it. Don't wait too long to sort out your accommodation. The cyclone is doing about 35km/hr so it's not going to take long if it heads this way." Pastel turned and left, walking away through the mud and falling rain to his office across the yard.
Schofield whistled. "Category 5 and 35km/hr. He's a big one. Let's finish this bit then go and pull down the camp."
Pringle nodded and went back to his grinding.
Half an hour later they were in the tray back utility and headed for the camp.
"You know what, Mick? It may be safer staying in the dugouts if the cyclone comes here."
"You could be right," replied Pringle. "Although, we may have to clean them out. They will be full of rubbish and animals, but it'd be worth a look."
YOU ARE READING
Calypso's Mast
AventureSomething smashed into her, knocked out all of her wind and spun her around. A vice clamped over her mouth and crushed her chest. A second later, she was behind a bush and looking eye to eye with Suzi. Suzi growled. "Shut-up, Suzi," hissed Banni...
