Don't Look Back (Warders of Earth) (2 page)

Somehow I had to talk her into seeking the help she needed.

Trudging up the back steps, I yanked open the screen door and strode into the kitchen. I threw my backpack onto the old timber table and tossed my hat after it. The bag skidded across the surface, knocked over a vase of bush flowers and sent everything crashing to the floor
.
This really wasn’t my day.

I looked up from the mess, to see my mother standing on the threshold and shaking her head and marvelled at how normal she appeared. Nut-brown hair, the same colour as mine apart from the glints of grey, but she wore hers to her shoulders and held back from her face by one of those flowery headbands she loved so much. She already had on her exercise outfit; off-white, baggy cotton pants to her shins and a loose, short-sleeve, cotton tunic in butter-yellow.

She looked just like any other mum; except for the stopwatch she held in her hand.

I planted my hands on my hips and resentment welled as I remembered the number of times she’d embarrassed me. Problem was I still couldn’t figure out whether my mother was crazy as a fox or just plain bat-shit crazy.

Mum clicked the stopwatch she held in her hands. “Sixteen minutes. I don’t think that’s fast enough. You really will have to try harder next time, Tara.”

“Mum! There can’t be a next time. You have to stop doing this odd behaviour. There were complaints last time. Mr Johnson talked about placing a restraining order on you.”

My mother waved a hand in the air as if she was royalty. “Nonsense. I spoke to Phil and we sorted it out. In fact, he was quite interested in my theories.”

Repressing a shudder at the image of my slimy teacher and my poor deluded but naive mother having a cosy chat over a pot of tea, I turned the tap with a vicious twist. The pipes shuddered and groaned until a stream of water spurted into my glass.

“This place is the pits. We really need to get someone in to look at the plumbing.”

“Details.” She placed the stopwatch on the side-table. “How did you go today?”

I buried my nose in my glass. Anything to avoid the concern in my mother’s eyes. I shrugged. “Fine, Mum, don’t stress.”

“Mmm. I wish you’d give up this idea of applying for an apprenticeship. You already have a job.”

I sighed. “A casual bar-tending job is not going to see me clothed and fed in my old age. I need to complete my training, get experience in working on the land.”

“I’ve told you before there is no need to worry about such matters. The important thing is to keep off their radar. Daniel made it home in eight minutes,” my mother prattled on.

Maybe she was trying to drive me crazy?

I placed the glass in the sink. “The high school is closer than the community college,” I pointed out feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

“If this had been a real situation, Tara, you wouldn’t be standing there looking so irritated.”

Totally pissed off and running out of options is more like it.
“There is
not
going to be an Armageddon. There is
no
secret society watching our every move.”

“How can you say such things, Tara? We’ve discussed this so many times.”

I rolled my eyes, groaning at my mother’s obvious bewilderment at my lack of belief. Drawing in a steadying breath, I tried for reason for the umpteenth time. “How about we concentrate on what we can fix; like say, the house? It’s falling down around our ears.”

“No. We need more focus on our survivalist skills. We have to be prepared.”

“Crap,” I mumbled, resisting the urge to rub the bristling hairs on the back of my neck at my mother’s use of that word,
prepared
.

A coincidence. It had to be.

“There is no need for that language, young lady, regardless of how old you are.”

“There is no conspiracy, no terrorist cell living in the house next door, no imminent death, doom or disaster about to crash into our lives.” 

“We have to be prepared,” she repeated. “Why only yesterday I was positive I served a
Warder
at the supermarket. If they’re here then the time is close.”

Pain spiked over the top of my head. This
‘warder’
thing was something new. Mum was getting worse.

“He’s our new sensei. If only I knew whether or not the Warders can be trusted,” Mum continued to speak. “They were made differently, you know. They’re not like you and if they’ve arrived, then the others could turn up at any moment. You have to be strong and trained to survive. You’re one of the special ones. The ones who will lead us into our future.”

“Right.” I rubbed my head. My fatigue fled as frustration rose and my headache gained momentum. What I wouldn’t do to be out of here. Let someone else deal with this problem. But if I left who would look after her? Dan at barely sixteen was too young to hold any influence over her.

I’m trapped.

And that realisation made it even more imperative that I gained legit qualifications. Once I had some decent money coming in I could pay for a carer to ‘baby-sit’ her. Take her somewhere better than this one-horse town, a town where she’d have access to proper medical treatment. Maybe even some kind of live-in, half-way house where she could be both treated and looked after.

Then, maybe, I’d be free to live my life.

A dull pain pounded at the base of my temple. Shame swept over me.
I’m so selfish.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family; I did. But freedom tempted me. Freedom and fun. Clubbing, parties, dances, dating; all those and more lured me stronger than any addiction.

And it wasn’t as if I’d be gone forever. I just wanted a taste of the life every other twenty year old chick lived.

I ducked my gaze and drew another glass of water then sculled it.

And all the while, my mother stood in the doorway smiling serenely as if there was nothing wrong.

“Where’s Dan?” I asked, setting the glass down again.

“Setting up for our tai chi session and I intend to do some deep meditation this afternoon. Why don’t you join us, honey?”

“I’ve got work plus I need to study.”

“Tara, please, forget this schooling business.” Mum threw her hands in the air, clearly exasperated.

I know exactly how she feels.
I leaned back against the kitchen sink and glared across the room.

“Well, if you don’t intend to join us, you may as well clean up that mess. Oh and by the way?” About to leave the room, my mother turned and added, “I’m pulling Daniel out of school.”

“What?”

Mum nodded.

“Are you serious? He’s brilliant. No, he’s more than brilliant. He’ll probably be the best astro physicist on the planet and you want him to leave school?”

“Exactly, that’s the reason why he must leave. He’ll continue his studies from home from now on. Now, Tara, I expect you to respect my decision.” My mother’s pale blue eyes turned to steel. “He’s my son and I need him here.”

If only I knew the right words to say, how to handle her strange ideas, how to make her better. I tried again for reason. “I understand you believe that, Mum, but nothing is going to happen. You’ve got to get your paranoia under control.”

“If only that were true. Too many events lately have indicated to me that matters are more serious than I first thought. At any moment, we could be faced with an event that will signal the end of all life as we know it.”

“Seriously? Do you really believe a bunch of terrorists are going to stalk into our town? Out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“I realise that there are no shopping centres within a reasonable travelling distance that constitutes your idea of civilisation, Tara, but we only live two hours drive from Canberra. And surely you’re not forgetting that our town is home to a large air-force base plus the new Airborne Early Warning System scheduled for completion in three month’s time? A logical target wouldn’t you agree? If it ends up being as simple as terrorists, I, for one, will be thankful.”

I flicked my fringe out of my eyes. “I think you’re talking a load of rubbish.”

“I’m only concerned for both of you. Do stop arguing, Tara. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for work.”

The next moment, I found myself staring at the empty doorway listening to the sound of my mother humming as she walked down the hall.

Jaw clenched, I rinsed the floor cloth under the tap and gazed out the window. Oh, if only I had a normal family. Normal parents who actually lived together, a decent house, better clothes, a brain that worked like other people’s.

I’d always dismissed my mother’s wild flights of fancy as crackpot, paranoia, the product of an illness that appeared to grow stronger with each passing year.  

Or perhaps caused by my parents’ divorce when I was sixteen, two years after we moved to this town. I’d always considered Dan and myself to be lucky; there hadn’t been any major fighting or any lasting bitterness. Although, when our parents did spend time together it seemed all they could do was bicker or conduct heated discussions in whispers when they thought there was no one listening.

Soon after our parents split, the knowledge had filtered through that Dad suffered from depression and had turned to drugs to combat his illness, consequently losing his job.

My stomach cramped. Another set of problems I had no idea how to fix. I’d never taken sides, never considered the divorce was anyone’s fault in particular. In fact, I’d often felt guilty that I’d been unable to give Dad the help he’d needed, that I rarely saw him now.

If I’d noticed his illness earlier, if I’d been more supportive, maybe my parents would still be together.

At first, we’d struggled as a family trying to cope and give support to Dad but it hadn’t worked. It was if he didn’t want our help or was too ashamed. The next thing we knew he’d joined a bikie gang and moved to another town. He’d grown his hair, embraced body piercing, and now survived on what he earned scrubbing the same floors he’d once walked as a scientist.

Mum had filled her days and nights with drilling Dan and me on survivalist training, enrolling us in more self-defence classes and seemed obsessed with prophesies of doom.

Some days it just felt so hard.

Better to day-dream of a job in the city, by the ocean, complete with lots of trendy bars and heaps of clothing stores, the opportunity to meet guys who could talk of something other than the drought and sheep.

A girl needs her dreams even if they were impossible to achieve.

Take it one step at a time
, a favourite saying of Dad’s.

I plucked two paracetamol tablets from their packet and chased them down with another glass of water. From the living room, came the chiming of recorded bells, as Mum and Dan practised their ritual stretching before beginning an hour of meditation.

Closing my ears to the sound, I ran a hand over my straight hair. I was glad now that Mum had suggested a few years ago, I try a short haircut. The bob was so easy to look after. No more braiding or spending hours drying it.

Although Mum’s attitude had been more towards
easier to take care of once the shit hits the fan and we had to forage to survive.

Despite my concern, I couldn’t help grinning as I picked up my backpack and went to my room. I had to admit, my mother never backed down. I threw my bag onto my bed and hurried to the bathroom where I had a super quick shower. Returning to my room I dressed in another loose tee-shirt, this one bright orange, and fresh denim jeans and hauled on clean socks. I ran a brush through my hair, applied some dark-brown mascara and a swipe of coral lipstick. One last quick glance in the mottled mirror on my dresser and I was ready.

My room was stifling. I flapped a hand uselessly in front of my face while I cast a critical eye over my bedroom. No breeze shifted the thin lace curtains of the open window. The lack of furnishings made my room feel over-large but I liked it that way. I took a moment to admire the opulent purple walls, the second-hand double bed covered with a crocheted throw rug of multiple sapphire blue, emerald green, crimson and gold squares. I’d made the rug myself last winter and was pleased with the exotic slant it gave off. The furniture may have been old and battered but it gleamed from regular polishing.