Intergalactic Outlaws

Chapter Four - The things of the past

When I was younger, my parents and I would take regular trips out of the city. We never went far, just enough to be out of the mundanity of suburbia.

Sometimes it would be as far south as Innisfail. There wasn't that much there, and it wasn't like we were ever visiting family. What I remembered most was the smell: the sickly-sweet burning of the sugar cane.

Other times, it would be barely out of the city, into the rainforest that lay behind the city. Nothing was more terrifying than taking those turns at high speeds when the ground dropped away in sheer slopes; the guard rail to do nothing to stop the fall metres down through dense foliage of trees and ferns.

More often that not, we went further west. Clear of the rainforest, you'd find yourself in the Tablelands. The land of wind farms and dairy cows.

I loved the Tablelands most of all. We used to rent a room at a motel for a week in Atherton. That week would be spent exploring the Tablelands and all it had to offer. Sitting at over seven hundred metres above water, the green fields sat in the clouds, away from the rest of the world. From below, you could see the clouds settling on the hill tops like fine, white blankets. On top of the hills, everything was white mist, light rain and perfect green fields dotted with the white and brown of the cattle.

One time, I must have been five or six, as we'd driven through, I'd stuck my hands outside the window and caught myself a cloud. I had been delighted in that way only a child could be, squealing so loud that Dad near drove the car off the road. I had demanded for something to put my cloud in, until Mum had handed over the empty picnic basket.

That night I had cried and cried when I had discovered that my cloud had gotten away.

It was those memories that came to me, rising from the depths of my subconscious, as I drove us closer and closer to Cairns. It was just past four in the morning and Alana had drifted off to sleep hours before. All I had for company was myself and the memories of the good times.

I nearly turned when I came across a sign pointing out the direction of Atherton. My heart had scream for 'just one last trip' but my mind, ever so wise, emphasised that there was no time for nostalgia.

So, I pushed on.

But the thoughts couldn't be pushed from my mind.

I would never see it again.

I would never have the life I was living again.

I didn't know I was crying silent tears until I felt something cold drip from my chin. I'd assumed the road was blurry from the constant down poor of the rain outside.

Pulling off to the side of the road, I let myself have that moment.

The tears were for everything I was losing. For the friends I had made over the years to end up leaving behind. For Acelin, who had taken my heart. And given me his, just for me to stomp on it. For a life that had never been for my but with which I had been gifted anyway.

When the tears stopped flowing, I took a deep breath and dried my face. I gave myself a moment to steady myself, letting my breathing even out until even my shoulders stilled their shaking. With one final deep breath, I put the car back into gear and turned onto the road.

As the car gained speed, I heard Alana shifting around slowly in her seat, "Are you okay?"

I nodded, not looking at her, "Yes."

"So, you don't need to talk about it?"

"Yeah nah."

I can respect that," she shuffled around again before her breathing slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.

---

It was eight in the morning when I finally pulled up in my parent's drive, parking behind that offensive piece of junk they called a car. Jumping out of my car eagerly, not bothering to disturb Holden or Alana, I ran up to the front door. Knocking my knuckles loudly against the wooden panel.

When there was no immediate answer, I rapped again, louder. I couldn't help the panic setting in though when they didn't answer then. There was no way they were still in bed at eight in the morning on a Tuesday. And even so, I was making enough noise to wake them.

Taking the key stashed in the rubber snake under the porch steps, I let myself in.

Every room in the house was filled with a million memories. We may have been alien inhabitants in that place, but we were still a family and we made a it a home. The story of my life was etched in the walls. I didn't linger on those memories though, as I rushed through the house.

"Mum? Dad?" I called as I got to their door, pushed it open, "Hello?"

Their bed was empty. Like every other single room in the house. They weren't there. And if I was being real with myself, the dust layer suggested it had been emptied of habitant's days earlier.

I tried both their mobiles, getting voicemail twice. I left them both voicemails, in vain, I knew because they were both gone. They had been taken.

Alana was coming in with Holden in her arms as I rushed out of the house.

I had to get out of there before they go back. Not my parents, my parent's people. My people. The others.

Sesuilaiceps.

Aliens to those Earth born.

The people who wanted us.

I dragged Alana out of the house by her elbow and back to the car. Taking Holden from her, I put him back in the back whilst she belted herself back into the passenger seat without asking questions. I fed him quickly before getting into the driver's seat and hitting the gas.

Alana looked perplexed at my behaviour, asking, "What is going on? What was that place? Who were you looking for?"

"My parents," I replied, hands fidgeting at the wheel as we slowed into a more populated street. "That was their house. They are officially missing. I am next. I don't know what to do."

"Your parents are missing?" She looked more confused at that, "Shouldn't we be going to the police station? If so, you passed it two blocks back."

"Nope. Nobody can help my parents. Except maybe me," I blurted.

Except maybe me? Nope. I don't even know anything. A few stories in my childhood does not equal to being ready to take them on. Rescue mission? I can't even get off the planet, never mind know how to find them.

"You?" Alana laughed, "What are you secretly Jason Bourne? Bryan Mills? John McClane?"

"No, I'm just a mechanic. I'm glad that sounded as crazy to you as it did to me," I confessed.

"Thank god. We need to talk to the cops," she said, urgingly.

"No. I need to get the hell out of dodge. I'll drop you off wherever you need to go but I'm leaving the city and I really can't have a tag-a-long this time," I told her.

"No," she shook her head and folded her arms over her chest, wriggling further into the seat, "I'm not leaving you alone. You obviously don't need that right now."

"This isn't debatable."

"You're right. I'm not going. Now, tell me what is wrong," she commanded in a gentle but firm voice.

I looked over at her. I'd known her for only twenty-four hours but there was something about her that was so trust-worthy. I didn't know her, or her story. In the time we'd known each other, all we had exchanged was names and seats.

Still, I found myself looking into her earnest blue eyes and opening my mouth to tell her my story.