The Pole Shift

Lett and the Boys

She had arranged to meet the boys at the rented property. The projected timings, when the Pole shift came, gave them four hours to collect what they could, and get up into the Alps. The house, quietly dilapidated, was lived in by the youngest of their group and sat on the highway at the foot of the Dandenong's . As they greeted each other solemnly she found herself staring up at the hill.

                "How are ya?" Said Clarky, the twenty year old house sitter. There was a whiff of weed coming out of the front door.

                "Have you been doing bongs?" Anger pounced sharply  upon her in the form of a blush. It caught people off guard, they thought her shy.

                "No! God no.  Just one earlier. I'm with it." She slapped him hard, the stinging type that cracks the corner of a mouth. His tongue found the blood and he mumbled that he was sorry.

                "Don't!" Was all she said. Clarky suddenly smiled, blood painting his lips. That was the good thing about the kid, he could take the telling off without sulking. He rubbed his cheek and sucked the corner of his mouth all the while trying to catch her cold stare to smile. She found herself wanting to give into it, the cheek of it, but she had to maintain her displeasure and gruffly started an overview of their plans whilst the others sniggered.

                "Clarky stays here. He is acting the part of useless stoner to perfection. " Clarky finally managed to catch her eye and raised his eyebrows comically. She scowled deeply. "Mick and Dean, I need you to shadow me more now. There's some crates of tuna up the hills, somewhere off Ridge Road. I wanna spend some time looking, one morning, tomorrow in fact. I have a hunch where the 'can man' hides, hid, things.  We might find some other caches whilst we're at it. Word is that residents have been given the green light to protect their properties with force. Not that the oldies and hippies up there will actually attack us but with us being criminals now the police will. Kill us in fact." That quietened them all, and they stared into space. Up until the Mad Weekend it had almost been a hobby to plan survival, being executed for it was a shocking thought. She watched them sombrely.   She touched her stomach, not tenderly, but as if she had cramp. She continued with the state of affairs speech and turned to Mick, sighing.

                "I want you to get another contact, fuck knows how, the powers that be look like they have them in their sights. Don't try hard, just listen hard. Give it a week, then I want us all to spend more time in the hills. When the time comes, we need to be near the caches, otherwise we won't make it. They all looked at each other, a whole section of the plan had been rubbed out.

                "So we aren't going to meet here then head up to get our stuff?" Clarky looked alarmed.

                "No, we will already be in this, den of iniquity when the Shift comes. We''ll get the heads up before the sheep a day, maybe eight hours before. There are other seismic indicators outside what the government tell us . We get up to the caches, and get it loaded on the truck. Fast.  With luck we will be on the road before the horde. " She didn't bother saying she thought the roads would be blocked by the Pole Pigs, or that they would be targeted by New World soldiers and their weaponry if they got anywhere near a safe height. She didn't need to, and Mick said:

                "Why bother Lett? Why don't we just hope the hill is high enough." He made a gesture with his shoulder, and she went to the window to look up at the Mountain Ash covered hill. She felt it too, why bother? She knew exactly why, she wanted these bozos to help her, but once the waters had settled she didn't want them around, she wanted them washed away along with all the other turds in the world.

                "It's not high enough. We might as well go and camp on the beach ." When she turned she whiffed the tiniest bit of dissent, suspicion. They followed her because she was tough, ruthless and wickedly maternal.  They were rough boys, even Clarky, who could turn vicious when he was asked to. They loved her like subjects do and she didn't want to lose that power. She turned to face.

                "We probably won't make it. You all know it's a long shot, but we're Survivalists right? Not fucking fatalists, and in no fucking way are we hedonists." She held each of their eyes. The glint powerful. They all looked away. Restored to order she thought, then turned to look up at the hill again. When she turned her back, Mick's eyes lifted from the floor, they raced up her strong legs, her curved hips,  the broad shoulders. His eyes lingered there before finding an unsatisfactory home amongst the short blonde locks at the back of her head.