As I made my way rapidly from the Drop Zone towards the Portal, my heart pounded with a blend of anticipation and urgency. The image of Charlie, my dog, waiting for me at the other end, spurred my steps forward. Spotting Beatrix, I raised my voice, my call cutting through the air, "Beatrix! Beatrix, wait up."
She turned towards me as I approached, her expression a blend of exhaustion and attentiveness. "What is it?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of weariness.
I reached her, slightly out of breath from my hurried dash. My eagerness was palpable as I quickly asked about Charlie, "Have you got Charlie yet?" Hope and excitement laced my words, my eyes searching hers for a positive response.
However, Beatrix's reply brought a wave of disappointment. "Not yet, sorry. I’ve been distracted dealing with Gladys," she explained, her tone apologetic yet matter-of-fact.
My concern shifted instantly. "Oh, is she alright?" I asked, my brows knitting together in worry.
"Yeah. She’s fine now," Beatrix responded, her voice imbued with a calm reassurance that eased my worry.
I wiped away another bead of sweat from my forehead, feeling the heat and the relentless pace of life in Bixbus.
Beatrix's expression then shifted to a more serious tone as she mentioned Luke. "When you do see Luke, can you please tell him that Gladys is safe and at home. She’s going to pack a few things and stay with our parents for a while until-" She stopped abruptly, her sentence trailing off into an unfinished thought.
I looked at her, sensing there was more to the story, but I chose not to delve deeper. "Of course," I replied, nodding in understanding.
With a small, grateful smile, Beatrix acknowledged my agreement. Eager to return to the matter of Charlie, I pressed on, "So, how far did you get?"
“Get?” Beatrix echoed, a brief look of confusion crossing her face.
"To Broken Hill," I clarified, my hands moving animatedly, unable to contain my eagerness and anxiety about the mission.
Her expression transformed into a mix of slight embarrassment and amusement. "Oh," she chuckled lightly, a flush of colour appearing on her cheeks. "I managed to get somewhere on the outskirts of Adelaide. I’ve left the hire car at my parents, but registered the location near Adelaide first. I’m about to go to my parents to collect the car and then I’ll continue from where I left off."
A brief wave of disappointment swept through me, however, my spirits quickly soared again at the thought of the Portals' convenience. "That’s so amazing that you can travel so easily like that," I said, my voice reflecting genuine awe.
Beatrix’s face brightened with a proud smile. "I know," she replied, her enthusiasm for the extraordinary technology shining through.
I remembered the crucial nature of her mission and felt a surge of eagerness for her to continue. "I’ll let you go then," I said, my voice laced with anticipation. The sooner she resumes her journey, the sooner Charlie will be with me.
As Beatrix turned to step into the Portal, she hesitated and glanced back at me. "Make sure you keep the Portal clear. I need to drive the car in and out. Wouldn’t want to hit anybody," she cautioned, her tone serious.
"Absolutely," I agreed, recalling the recent accident with a shudder.
"Thanks," she said, her focus shifting back to her task.
Then, struck by a sudden thought, I called out to her, "And Beatrix," halting her in her tracks. "You should probably record several Portal locations on your journey. They may come in useful later."
Beatrix nodded, appreciating the suggestion. "Good idea. I’ll do that."
"I recommend Burra and Yunta. If I ever need to stop on my way, they’re the usual places," I suggested, offering her specific locations that could serve as strategic points in our network of Portal locations.
"Got it," she confirmed, her expression determined.
With a final nod, Beatrix activated the Portal, stepping through and vanishing from Clivilius, her figure swallowed by the swirl of colours.
I lingered for a moment, watching as the Portal's vibrant hues slowly faded, leaving me with a complex mix of hope and anxiety. As I turned to face the new caravan delivery, I couldn't help but ponder over how bringing Charlie into this world was a comforting thought, but not without its own set of challenges.
Settling into the driver's seat of the sleek, modern caravan Beatrix had just delivered, I felt an odd sense of dissonance. Here I was, in a vehicle that seemed more suited to the highways of the old world than the rugged, untamed terrain of Clivilius. Yet, it was a welcome addition, a beacon of progress in our camp's growth. Starting the engine, I was enveloped in a profound sense of responsibility. The unintentional assignment of Nial’s caravan to Grant and Sarah weighed on me, and now it was my duty to ensure Nial had a comfortable place for the night.
The drive back to Bixbus was a tranquil one, surprisingly so. Our frequent trips to and from the Portal was beginning to carve a distinct path through the dust, making the journey smoother than ever. This rare moment of peace, driving through the quiet of Clivilius, provided a much-needed respite from the constant challenges of our new world.
Arriving at camp, I was greeted by the familiar buzz of early evening activity. The bonfire crackled energetically, surrounded by people engaged in lively chatter, with the delicious aroma of dinner preparations filling the air. I parked the caravan in a designated spot, integrating it seamlessly among the others.
Stepping out of the caravan, I caught sight of Nial near the fire, deeply engaged in conversation. "Nial!" I called out, making my way over to him. "I've got good news for you."
Nial turned towards me, his face brightening with curiosity. "What’s up, Paul?" he asked, his tone a mix of interest and optimism.
I pointed towards the caravan I had just parked. "That's for you. You won’t have to sleep in a tent tonight,” I announced, feeling a sense of satisfaction in being able to provide him with this small comfort.
“Just for tonight?” Nial quipped, his tone playful yet probing, hinting at the possibility of me reassigning it to someone else again.
“It’s yours forever, Nial,” I assured him, injecting a bit of humour into my response to lighten the mood.
Nial’s eyes widened in surprise. "Seriously? That's... that's great, Paul. Thank you!”
We approached the caravan, Buffy and Lois energetically weaving around our legs, their playful barks punctuating the air as they chased each other in dusty spirals. "I’m sure Buffy will enjoy the space too," I commented, watching them with a light smile.
Nial chuckled, a sound that carried a mix of fondness and resignation. “I really wouldn’t mind if she wants to sleep outside,” he said, his eyes following the boundless energy of his dog. Then, his expression shifted to something more somber. “She really misses little Sammy, though,” he added, a tinge of sadness seeping into his voice.
My heart resonated with his sentiment. The ache of separation from my own family was a constant companion. I posed the question tentatively, “Do you want to bring them here?”
Nial paused, his gaze drifting towards the stark reminder of the Shadow Panther's head staked at the camp's edge. “It’s a tough call,” he said, his voice reflecting the internal struggle of making such a decision.
I nodded, feeling the weight of his dilemma. The dangers of Clivilius were ever-present, making any decision about bringing loved ones here fraught with difficulty.
Nial’s next suggestion caught me off guard. “Now that we’ve got those other fires established, maybe we can remove the head?” he proposed, hope mingling with practicality in his voice.
I agreed immediately. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. We don’t need any more reminders of the threats we face here,” I responded, feeling a sense of relief at the prospect of removing such a grim symbol.
Reaching the caravan, I shifted back to the task at hand, my enthusiasm rekindled. Handing Nial the keys, I said, "It’s all yours. Fully equipped and should be more comfortable than the tent."
Nial accepted the keys, his gratitude evident even as his thoughts lingered on his family. “Thanks, Paul,” he said, his voice tinged with mixed emotions.
"Just looking out for each other," I replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "That's how we're going to get through this."
Nial nodded, his eyes lighting up as he surveyed the caravan, a blend of excitement and relief crossing his face. "I'll move our stuff in right away,” he said, giving Buffy an affectionate pat as she nuzzled against him.
I nodded in agreement. “Take all the time you need.”
As Nial began transferring his belongings into the caravan, I took a moment to observe the camp. The Bixbus settlement was evolving, each new caravan and settler adding to its complexity and resilience. The challenges ahead were undeniable, and the uncertainties of life in Clivilius loomed large.
With Nial’s situation resolved and our conversation lingering in my thoughts, I decided against rejoining the campfire. Instead, I headed towards the Portal, my mind consumed with anticipation for Beatrix’s return with Charlie. The prospect of having at least one family member with me in this strange new world filled me with a mixture of longing and comfort.
As Beatrix drove through the Portal, her vehicle emerging from the shimmering gateway, I approached, curious about her latest return. My curiosity, however, turned to utter disbelief when I saw what was in the back of her car. Nestled comfortably amidst a pile of straw was a goat. I stood there, hands on my hips, my expression undoubtedly mirroring my internal bewilderment.
“Beatrix?” I asked, unable to conceal my bafflement at the sight before me.
“What?” she responded, her tone casual, as if a goat in the back of her car was the most normal thing in the world.
“Why is there a goat in the back of the car?” I gestured towards the unexpected passenger, my palm outstretched in disbelief. The sight of the goat, looking almost regal in its straw bed, instantly brought to mind images of a goat awaiting a T-Rex in some prehistoric park. The irony of attracting danger with a goat here in Clivilius wasn’t lost on me.
“Oh, this is Vincent,” Beatrix said nonchalantly, opening the back door and coaxing the goat out with a handful of straw.
Vincent, the goat, seemed quite content with his new surroundings, bleating merrily and kicking up a cloud of dust before settling back into his straw.
“What the hell am I going to do with a goat?” I exclaimed, my voice tinged with a mix of incredulity and frustration.
Beatrix simply shrugged, offering no explanation.
My concern was palpable. “Are you trying to get us all killed?” I asked, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting me full force.
Beatrix defended her actions. “I didn’t have a choice. Bill was going to kill him,” she explained.
“Who’s Bill?” I asked, my confusion only deepening.
“Vincent’s owner,” she replied, as though that cleared up everything.
I felt a growing sense of panic. “So, you decided to kidnap his goat instead!?” The situation was bordering on the absurd.
Beatrix, petting Vincent affectionately, seemed oblivious to my concerns. “Look at him. He’s so happy now.”
I scoffed, “I don’t think he’s going to be very happy when he gets eaten by a shadow panther,” my mind racing with the potential dangers a goat could attract.
Unperturbed, Beatrix suggested, “He can live in one of the motorhomes.”
“Beatrix!” I snapped, my patience thinning. “We’re not keeping Vincent in a motorhome. Those are for people.”
Ignoring my protests, she tenderly kissed the goat’s head. “Then Vincent’s death is on you,” she declared dramatically, covering Vincent’s ears as if protecting him from my words.
In a moment of sheer exasperation, I threw my hands up in surrender and sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll find Vincent a safe home.” I couldn’t believe it – amidst all our challenges, I was now tasked with finding a safe haven for a goat.
As Beatrix moved towards the car boot, my sense of apprehension swelled. "Beatrix, what are you…?" I began, my voice trailing off as I caught sight of what she was revealing.
"Well, I couldn’t just leave them behind," she stated matter-of-factly, unveiling six brown hens nestled comfortably in the hay-lined boot. The sight of them, so serene amid the oddity of their situation, struck me as almost comical.
I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a mix of disbelief and recognition colouring my laughter. "You’re in Yunta, aren’t you?" I asked, knowing the small town's reputation for its free-roaming chickens.
"Yes," she replied, a spark of curiosity lighting up her eyes at my familiarity with her location.
"I thought so," I remarked, my gaze fixated on the hens. "Were they on the side of the road?"
“Um… basically,” Beatrix answered, her voice carrying a hint of deliberate vagueness.
I gently lifted one of the hens out of the boot, chuckling softly. “I’m not surprised. Yunta always seems to have chickens roaming about whenever I pass through.” The hen clucked anxiously in my arms before I gently set her down on the ground.
Together, Beatrix and I carefully removed the rest of the hens from the boot. One particularly feisty hen flapped her wings energetically, sending feathers fluttering into the air, before landing a few feet away.
“You still need the car to get to Burra, don’t you?” I asked while we worked.
“Yeah,” she replied, now fully engaged in the task of relocating the chickens.
After we had successfully moved all six hens, Beatrix closed the car boot with a loud thud, startling the birds into a scatter of different directions. Watching them, I was amused yet concerned about how they would adapt to the new environment.
“Can you bring the car back once you’ve found Charlie?” I asked, plucking a stray feather from my pants. The familiar outback smell of the feather briefly transported me back home, only to be snapped back to reality by an unexpected sneeze. Even Vincent, who had been resting contentedly, bleated in response to my sudden outburst.
Beatrix laughed as she headed to the driver's side. "I’ll bring the car back," she assured me, climbing in and shutting the door behind her.
As the car, along with Beatrix, vanished, leaving behind a cloud of dust, I stood there amidst a flock of hens and a goat. The absurdity of my current situation wasn't lost on me – here I was, responsible for a collection of farm animals in a world where survival was a daily struggle.
Shaking my head in mild disbelief, I turned to Vincent and the hens. "Well, I guess you're part of Bixbus now." With a small, resigned smile, I started to ponder where to house our new residents, my mind already mapping out how they might integrate into our ever-evolving community.
After considering the safety of Beatrix's unexpected contribution to our Clivilius menagerie, I recognised the urgent need for a practical solution. Spotting Karen by the bonfire, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, I walked over with determined strides, a plan forming in my mind.
"Karen," I called out, drawing her attention. "I need a favour."
Karen looked up, her eyebrows arching in curiosity. "Sure, Paul. What's up?"
With a hint of incredulity in my voice, I revealed, "We've got some new residents. A goat named Vincent and a bunch of hens from Yunta.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You're kidding!"
Shaking my head, I managed a wry smile. "I wish I was. Beatrix just brought them in. We need to get them settled somewhere."
Karen chuckled softly, placing her mug down. "Alright, let's do this. But where do we put them? We don’t exactly have any secure enclosures.”
That’s when an absurd but oddly practical idea hit me. "How about Glenda's car?" I suggested. "It's secure, and it's not like she's using it right now.”
Karen burst into laughter, the sound resonating in the cool evening air. "A BMW coop? Why not! It's the safest place for them tonight, especially with no fences up yet."
So, we made our way to Glenda's car, a shiny beacon of misplaced luxury amidst the rugged backdrop of Clivilius. The plan was simple – use the car to secure Vincent and the hens for the night.
As we drove towards the Drop Zone, Karen turned to me, "So, how did we end up with a goat and chickens?"
I recounted Beatrix's impromptu rescue mission and the ensuing chaos. Karen listened, occasionally shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.
Arriving at the Drop Zone, we were greeted by the sight of Vincent and the hens exploring their new, dusty domain. I opened the back of Glenda's car, preparing it for our unconventional passengers.
What ensued next could only be described as a scene from a slapstick comedy. Our initial attempts to herd the hens into the car were met with an explosion of feathers and indignant squawks. Each failed attempt felt like a comical blow to our amateur chicken-wrangling skills.
"Got any experience with chicken catching, Paul?" Karen quipped, amusement evident in her tone as she watched my less-than-successful efforts.
"Not exactly part of my skill set," I confessed, keeping a watchful eye on the elusive hens. "But how hard can it be?"
As it turned out, quite hard. Trying to coax chickens into a BMW was an exercise in patience and humility. Each time we thought we had one cornered, it eluded our grasp, leaving us clutching at air and feathers.
Karen, however, soon had a breakthrough. "Wait, what if we lure them in with some food?" she suggested, her eyes lighting up with the idea.
After a quick trip back to the camp for seeds and food scraps, Karen returned and laid a tempting trail into the car. We stood back and watched as, one by one, the hens, drawn by the prospect of a feast, hopped into the BMW.
"Looks like we found our chicken whisperer," I remarked with a grin, watching Karen beam with pride at her successful strategy.
Once the last hen was safely inside, we gently closed the car doors. The sight of six hens perched on the plush leather seats of Glenda’s BMW was so comically incongruous that I burst into laughter.
"This has got to be the most expensive chicken coop in history," Karen observed, joining in my laughter. It was a moment of pure absurdity and light-heartedness amidst the often challenging reality of Clivilius. The chickens seemed quite content in their luxury accommodations, pecking at the seats and leaving feathers in their wake..
"I hope Glenda has a sense of humour," I mused aloud, imagining her reaction to her car's newfound purpose.
"We'll clean it up before she finds out," Karen replied with a mischievous wink, alluding to Glenda's likely prolonged absence from the camp. "Let's just hope the chickens don't decide to go for a joyride.”
After ensuring our new feathered friends were somewhat comfortably settled in their makeshift, luxurious coop, Karen and I saw Beatrix driving back through the Portal. My heart leaped at the sight of her car, as I was eager for any news on Charlie, my beloved dog. Holding a firestick as a makeshift torch, I jogged over to her, the light flickering in the dimness of Clivilius' evening.
"Beatrix!" I called out as she stepped out of the car, with Karen trailing close behind me. I realised I was panting more heavily than I should have been, a testament to the day's exhausting events.
"Did you find her?" I asked Beatrix, hope lacing my voice as I struggled to catch my breath.
"Sorry, Paul," Beatrix replied, her head shaking in regret. "I couldn’t find her."
My heart plummeted. "Really?" I uttered, a wave of disappointment washing over me. I self-consciously wiped away a droplet of saliva that had escaped during my panting.
Beatrix looked at us, a mix of concern and confusion on her face. "Is everything okay here?" she inquired.
Karen, hands on her hips and still trying to catch her breath, chimed in, "We’ve been chasing those blinkin’ chickens of yours."
Beatrix’s expression became one of confusion.
I felt it necessary to clarify and make Beatrix understand the unexpected aftermath of her chicken rescue. “You gave me an idea earlier. I was going to wait for you to return, but then I figured that they’d probably be better in separate cars anyway.”
Beatrix continued to look puzzled.
“The chickens,” I emphasised.
“Yeah, I got that part,” Beatrix said, still not fully grasping the situation. “What about the chickens?”
Karen let out a loud groan, clearly exasperated.
“I’ve taken Glenda’s car…” I started to explain.
“You mean we,” Karen quickly corrected me.
“Of course,” I agreed. “We’ve taken Glenda’s car to the Drop Zone and decided to turn it into a hen house.”
Beatrix's eyes widened in disbelief. "You’ve put the chickens in a BMW?" she asked, her shock evident.
“I take that back,” Karen said with a stern face. “The idea was all yours, Paul.”
Defending my impromptu decision about the chickens, I firmly stated, “It’s not as though we really had many options. We can’t very well leave them running freely around camp. They’re a threat to all of us.”
“He’s not wrong,” Karen backed me up, her agreement lending weight to my argument.
“We can’t risk them attracting more wild creatures,” I added, emphasising the potential dangers of having the chickens roam free.
Beatrix's frown deepened, her concern for the animals evident. "So, you’d rather sentence them to a torturous death out here… alone?"
“Beatrix, don’t be so foolish,” Karen interjected sharply, her intense gaze locking onto Beatrix. “You know as well as I do that we can’t let our love for the preservation of nature surpass the logical faculties that the universe has bestowed upon us.”
What the heck? I mused, somewhat lost in Karen's philosophical monologue. As if on cue, our stomachs simultaneously growled loudly.
Karen admitted, "I’m so hungry. I don’t think I’ve eaten today."
That's when a thought struck me. "You’re in Broken Hill now, aren’t you, Beatrix?" I asked, my mind already drifting to the tantalising thought of chips from Rags on Oxide Street.
“Yeah,” Beatrix confirmed, her voice tinged with reluctance.
A pleased groan escaped my lips as I imagined the taste of those chips. “I think there is some food being prepared back at camp, but…” I paused, momentarily lost in the fantasy of the delicious treat. Shaking off the distraction, I continued, “You must get us some Rags chips. They are simply divine.”
"Rags?" Beatrix asked, slightly bewildered.
I assured her enthusiastically, "They’re on Oxide street. Simply the best chips you’ve ever tasted!"
“Sure,” Beatrix agreed, albeit still seeming slightly bemused by the request.
As Karen and I waited for Beatrix to return, we found ourselves deep in conversation about the day's events. We laughed over the image of chickens in a BMW and mused over the broader challenges of life in Clivilius. It was a moment of camaraderie and reflection, acknowledging the bizarre yet bonding experiences we shared in this strange new world. The absurdity of our situation, contrasted with the mundanity of craving chips from a familiar place, highlighted the unique blend of challenges and small pleasures that made up our lives.
Finally, Beatrix returned, and with her came the unmistakable aroma of Rags chips that filled the air instantly. My senses were engulfed by the familiar, tantalising scent, and a wave of contentment washed over me. But that wasn't all. To our surprise and sheer delight, Beatrix also unveiled a container of cheeseslaw, a Broken Hill specialty that I hadn’t expected.
"This," Beatrix declared with a flourish, her voice tinged with triumph, "is cheeseslaw. Apparently, it's a game-changer.”
“Indeed it is,” I agreed eagerly, my hand darting towards the container. The rich, cheesy flavour of the cheeseslaw melded perfectly with the salty crunch of the chips. The unique blend of cheese and slaw, reminiscent of coleslaw but with a delectable cheesy twist, was an extraordinary culinary experience. It was a perfect accompaniment to the simple yet satisfying chips.
"Wow, this is amazing," Karen exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with each mouthful. The pleasure of the food was evident on her face.
I nodded in hearty agreement, already indulging in another mouthful. "Should we share this with the rest of the camp?" I asked, though part of me secretly hoped we could keep this delightful discovery to ourselves.
Karen, her mouth still full of the delicious combination, simply shrugged and grinned. Our mutual silence and the continual reaching for more was answer enough. The cheeseslaw and chips were ours for the night.
In that moment, as we savoured the exceptional taste of Broken Hill, the challenges and uncertainties of life in Clivilius felt momentarily distant. The comfort of good food, the joy of sharing a rare treat, brought a sense of normalcy and pleasure to our otherwise unpredictable lives.
