Erebus: Chapter 1

1. Longreach, Australia

A small, grey van with a large satellite dish sitting atop it spluttered down a deserted road somewhere in Queensland, Australia. The driver was hoping they were headed towards a town and would reach it soon.

The driver of this particular van was a paranormal investigator. Normally there would have been a team of three people in this van, but tonight there was only one solitary individual. A freak lightning storm had occurred in these parts. Some people were claiming that there was no weather front that allowed for the lightning and no thunder was heard. This was investigation material if ever there was any. The team didn’t agree though. They thought that the lightning was probably just that: lightning. The team leader had seen enough Thor movies to know that unexplained lightning is never just lightning. It needed to be checked out. That’s exactly what happened. Now, in the middle of nowhere and with nothing but clear skies, the leader of this motley crew was beginning to regret not listening to their teammates.

For the tenth time in the past hour the van ground to a halt and the driver pulled out a map.

“I have no idea where I am,” the driver said, scratching the back of their head.

It appeared there was a town, Longreach, not too far from here, if the map was being read correctly. The driver was no longer sure. There was no way of telling exactly where the van was right now.

The van driver heard a strange noise and looked up into the sky, in order to see where the sound was coming from. Something was heading towards the ground. It was flaming on all sides and about the size of a car. This was no small meteorite. It was going to do some damage upon impact. A phenomenon such as this was interesting news for an unemployed reporter. Grabbing a camera the paranormal investigator got out of the van and ran towards the estimated trajectory of the meteor.

*     *     *

The thing falling to the earth hit the ground and sent out a massive shockwave. The paranormal investigator was lifted from their feet and sent spiralling into a ball.

She got up and looked around. It appeared that the thing that had landed was a ship: it had strange engravings on it and a something that looked like a cockpit was open. There was nothing inside. Looking around she saw a man lying on the ground, unconscious. She ran to him with an outstretched arm. Just as she reached the man she stopped short. What if he had come out of the ship? She pulled her hand back quickly. The man was naked and she found herself blushing. Usually the team kept spare clothes in the van.

She ran to it and picked up a shirt, a pair of jeans and a blanket and ran back to the possible alien. She covered him with the blanket, being careful to avoid physical contact and dropped to the ground beside him. His eyes fluttered and blinked, before coming into focus on her.

“Where am I?” he asked her, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

She pushed herself away from him, still not willing for them to touch. “We are in Queensland, Australia,” she replied as she reached out a hand to help him up, “it’s on planet earth. Do you know where you are from?”

“What do you mean do I know where I am from?” the guy asked.

“Which planet?” she asked him, pointing to the spacecraft.

His eyes widened as he took in the ship, “I actually have no idea,” he said looking from the girl to the ship.

“Do you know what your name is?” she asked him, “any memories at all?”

“I don’t remember anything,” he replied, and from the lost look in his eyes she knew he was telling the truth. “Everything from before seeing you is a blank.”

“Put those on,” she told him, indicating the clothes.

As he did so they heard sirens coming from a distance.

“That’s the authorities,” she said looking over her shoulder, seeing lights: luckily they were not coming from the direction of Longreach.

“The authorities?” the guy said and looked in the direction of those same lights himself. “This is good, I can communicate with them and they will help me discover where I have come from and how I can get back.”

She curled her lips up and he noticed it.

“What does this gesture mean?” he asked her, motioning towards her lips.

“I’m not going to tell you how to run your life…” she began.

“You are just going to inform me on how to run my life?” he asked, knowing the answer. “Females are always the same, no matter what planet you are on,” he commented and she gave him a slap on the upper arm.

“I wouldn’t be so excited about the authorities if I were you?” she told him.

“Why not?” he asked her, “surely the authorities are in a position to help me?”

“I am not sure how much you know about earth,” she said, “and although I have never come across a real live alien before I can tell you that in our popular culture the authorities always try to kill the aliens.”

“Oh,” he noted, “that is not very good at all. Who will help me?”

“I don’t know, dude,” she said and moved back towards her van.

“Will you?” he asked and caught her arm, pulling her back towards himself.

In the first seconds she panicked. After a moment he felt her relax in his arms. Nothing had happened to her. For the first time she noticed his height, he was tall. This made him appear quite thin, but now that he was pulling her against himself she could feel some muscle under his black shirt. He had dark hair, and grey eyes, and looked like a normal human. There was nothing about him that would suggest he was not from this planet. She allowed herself to get lost in the moment and found she was pushing her hand into his shirt to feel the muscles.

He cleared his throat and she pulled away.

“Will you help me?” he asked again as he looked into her eyes.

She sighed and listened for the sirens again. There were closer, but there was also another car pulling into the site from another direction.

“We need to hurry,” she said as she pulled the hand that was still tightly grasping her own.

They got to the van just as the headlights of the newest vehicle lit up the metal ship.

The alien man took one last look back at it before getting into the van beside the paranormal investigator.

“This is an interesting transportation device you have,” he noted, “it appears to broadcast as well?”

“It does,” she said, “I am a paranormal news reporter. I tell people about strange things going on around Queensland.”

“I would classify as a strange thing, would I not?” the alien asked her.

“You would,” she said, and didn’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Could I make a request of you?” he asked her.

“Of course,” she replied.

“I would like it if you didn’t report any news of me,” he said, “I do not want to be found out by the authorities, at least not until I know who I am, where I come from, why I am here and how I get home.”

“I understand,” she said, “I promise I will say nothing about you until you are gone,” she promised.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at her, “is there something I can call you?” he asked, realising he did not know her name.

“Can I trust you?” she asked him, not willing to divulge that kind of information to someone she doesn’t know.

“I don’t even know me,” he replied, “if that helps?”

She laughs a little, there is a hint of enjoyment but also a hint of anxiety to the laugh.

“It doesn’t,” she replies, “okay,” she says, taking a deep breath as she drives the van towards Longreach and away from the possibility of being implicated in this alien invasion thing, “I will trust you,” she informs him, “but if you do anything even remotely hostile alien I will dump you in the desert and tell the world where you are. You understand?”

“Remotely hostile alien?” he asks her for clarification.

“Yeah,” she said, “if I hear mention of killing humans, ray guns, invasions, superior race or anything like that then you are on your own, capisce?”

“I understand,” he replied. “Now do you have a name?” he asked as he smiled at her.

“Rachel,” she responded, “my name is Rachel Taylor. Do you have one?”

“I probably do,” he replied, still smiling at her, she liked his smile. It felt safe and warm, “but I have no idea what it is.”

“Oh,” she said in a high pitch, clapping her hands together. She also couldn’t help but smile back at him.

He was confused, “this is actually quite tragic,” he said, “I have no idea who I am, where I come from or why I am here and you think it is something to be excited about?”

“I’m sorry,” she said and giggled, “I was excited because you having no name means that we get to name you.”

“And that is an activity you would enjoy?” he asked.

“Immensely,” she said and smiled at him again as they passed by the sign welcoming them to Longreach.

“Humanity is a strange and elusive being,” he said as he sat back in the chair.

*     *     *

Longreach was a sleepy little town. It was built on the River Thomson, and named because of the ‘long reach’ of that same River. The population of the town was only about 3000. If the authorities came looking for them in Longreach, it would not take long for them to be found. There was no question of looking for a needle in a haystack, this was just looking for straw.

“Did you know,” the alien said from the passenger seat, he was on the internet, “that the town has a theme for its street names?”

“I didn’t,” Rachel said, a little disinterestedly. She was wondering if it would be better for them to keep going instead of stopping in this little town.

“They are named after birds,” alien-boy continued, excitedly, “a bird is a creature with feathers and a bill, they can fly,” he explained, having clicked a link to learn what a bird was.

Rachel took her eyes off of the road and gave him a look, eyebrow raised, “I have lived on this planet my entire life,” she said to him, too much agitation in her voice, “I know what a bird is.”

“Hmm,” he replied, “the north and south directional streets are named after land birds while the east and west streets are named after water birds,” he said, “also birds that carry people used to be made here.”

“Planes?” Rachel asked him.

“Yes,” he said, “planes,” holding up the iPad he was searching all this on. “See they look like birds.”

Rachel swerved and her van almost hit a tree.

“Alien boy,” she shouted at him, “keep that thing out of my face when I’m trying to drive; otherwise you’ll get us both killed.”

“Sorry,” he said and lowered the iPad from her face.

“It’s okay,” she said, “you are only learning about life on this planet, I can understand why you are very excited about it.”

He smiled at her, “my name isn’t ‘alien boy’,” he said when it was evident she had nothing else to say.

“What is it then?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he replied, looking towards the ground.

“In that case,” she jested, “it could actually be alien boy and you just don’t remember.”

“It’s definitely not alien boy,” he responded, “I’d remember.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled over, she looked at him. Noticing his blue-grey eyes and his dark hair. He looked European, slightly Celtic, if she had to guess. There were many descendants of the Irish in Australia so he would fit right in. He also looked like a pale Spaniard, from the Celtic part of Spain. Rachel liked Spanish geography.

“Anything?” he asked her.

“Not yet,” she complained, “you cannot rush perfection you know, you poor, abandoned extra-terrestrial.”

“Is this a Mac?” he asks, while she is still thinking of a name.

“How do you know what a Mac is?” she asked him, confused by his recognition of the Apple machine.

“I don’t know,” he admits after thinking about it for a minute, “I just do.”

“Yes, it is a Mac,” she informed him, “well, we have your surname,” she laughed.

“You do?” he asked, “what is it?”

“McIntosh,” she announced, smiling widely.

“What’s a McIntosh?” he asked, confused.

“That type of computer,” she said, pointing to her iMac in the back.

“I really don’t understand,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s okay E.T.,” she joked, “wait,” she got something, “Poor E.T. Abandoned. Peta, we can call you Peter,” she said as she smacked the steering wheel in self-praise.

“Peter?” he said, trying out the name, “I like it,” he added, smiling his approval, she realised that he had a lovely smile.

“Peter McIntosh,” she tested the entire name together, “it sounds good, don’t you think? Believable too.”

“Peter McIntosh,” Peter repeated, “yes,” he added, “it is good. I like it. Thank you for naming me, Rachel Taylor.”

“No problem, Peter McIntosh,” she added, smiling widely at him.

“I can hear those authority noises again,” Peter said, looking out the window. He was gripping the iPad tightly, his knuckles white.

“Really?” Rachel asked, “I hear nothing.”

“My hearing must be better than yours,” he informed her, “they are getting louder. Does that mean they are getting closer?” he asked her.

“It does,” she replied, “we better find somewhere to hide this van, and then find somewhere to sleep for the night,” she added as she pulled the van out of park and into drive.

“Go quickly,” he said, looking out through the rear window of the van.

*     *     *

They had found a quiet little Bed and Breakfast owned by two locals, there was a room available but it had a double bed. Rachel and Peter took it, it was the best they could do. Peter slept on the floor, being a gentle E.T. and allowing the lady to have the bed.

Neither of them were sure if his race of aliens actually slept, it turned out they did. Peter slept for exactly the same amount of time as Rachel did; both of them arose at ten am, just in time to catch the last morsels of the breakfast prepared at the B&B.

“Good morning, sheila,” the man who owned the place said as Rachel reached the dining room, “would you and the mista’ like some brekkie?” he asked her.

“Please,” she replied.

“We have eggs, sausages, bacon, beans, toast and cereal, what takes your fancy?”

“All of that, honestly,” she said, “Peter, you’d like it all too, right?”

“Yes,” Peter said, unsure of what else to answer, saying no at this point may break customs long established on earth; and he certainly didn’t want to do that.

The man went to get the food as the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it dear,” his wife shouted from somewhere in the house.

“The husband does the cooking?” Rachel noted. “That’s unusual.”

“Why is that unusual?” Peter asked.

“Usually men think that a woman’s place is in the kitchen,” Rachel commented. “It’s nice to see it this way for a change.”

“That is interesting,” Peter said. “I thought women on this planet were only bossy. Now it turns out they provide the food as well.”

“Excuse me,” the owner of the bed and breakfast said, “there are two agents outside, and they are looking for anyone staying here who is from out of town.”

“Okay,” Rachel replied, “would you like us to go and talk to them?”

“Please,” the innkeeper replied, “it’s not good for business to have agents on your door.”

“I understand,” Rachel said, “come on Peter.”

“You are the guests that stayed last night?” one of the agents asked Peter and Rachel as they reached them at the front door.

“You can use the sitting-room,” the innkeeper said, having come out of the kitchen to see what the commotion was, “I’ll get back to your breakfasts.”

“Thank you,” Peter said to him as he went.

“We are investigating a meteorite falling from the skies,” the agent said as they all took a seat in the sitting room.

“I saw that,” Rachel admitted, “I am a bit of a paranormal investigator myself.”

“Really,” the second agent, Reece, according to the badge he flashed when they approached him, “that is interesting, and did you discover anything paranormal?”

“There has been strange lightning around these parts,” Rachel said, “the majority of my team, besides Peter here,” Rachel said, indicating Peter, “refused to come out on this one, they said that there was no point in investigating lightning.”

“What did you see last night,” Agent Reece asked.

“There was lightning,” Rachel admitted, “out to the west of the town. I couldn’t discover anything unusual about it though.”

“Did you see a meteorite falling from the sky anywhere near you?” the agent that was not Agent Reece asked.

“I did,” Rachel said, “as I have already indicated. I don’t investigate things from space though,” she continued, “I am more interested in those things that occur on earth. We both are.”

“Ghosts and things,” Peter said, iPad in his hand again.

“Interesting,” Agent Reece said.

“Sorry we can’t help you with… whatever it is you are investigating,” Rachel said.

“No problem,” Agent Reece said again and held out a card, “if you do hear anything about the meteorite call that number.”

“We will sir,” Peter said, smiling innocently.

“Can I ask,” Rachel asked, “why exactly does the government have some special agents working on a meteor?”

“We are not the government ma’am,” Agent Reece replied, “we are international.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, “that makes me want to ask that question even more.”

“Yes,” Peter says, “this sounds like something we should be looking into, as paranormal investigators; especially if some multi-country organisations are looking into this.”

“No, no,” the other agent replied, “there is no need for you both to look into it, however, if you could inform us if you hear anything about it. That is all we need from you.”

“Of course,” Rachel said, it was now her turn to smile innocently.

“Good day,” Agent Reece said.

“Have a good day,” Peter said, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“We should have someone keep an eye on the two of them,” Agent Reece said to his partner once they were out of the bed and breakfast, “they may go and investigate, and we need to stay a step ahead of them.”

Peter and Rachel, still in the sitting-room, breathed a sigh of relief.

“Why did you tell them we are paranormal investigators?” Peter asked Rachel after they had heard the car driving away.

“I was worried they had seen the van,” Rachel admitted, “these small towns have a proficiency at ratting on outsiders, if anyone saw the van I am sure that they have already searched it.”

“That makes sense,” Peter said. “Do you think we will see them again?”

“I’m sure we will,” Rachel said and sighed. “They are looking for you after all,” she told him, “normally these kinds of organisations don’t stop until they find the alien they are looking for.”

“This information is coming from your bountiful experience of aliens landing on earth?” Peter asked.

“Television shows,” Rachel admitted, “I am not sure if an alien has ever landed on earth before, although some people believe that some came in the 1970s in Roswell, America.”

“Did you catch who sent the Agents?” Peter asked, “the likelihood is that they have my ship and I am going to need it sometime, if I am going to get home.”

Rachel looked up at him, eyebrow raised again, “really?” she asked, “you want to go and get your ship out of the heart of the beast?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Peter replied, “I don’t think that a beast has taken it and put it inside its heart. Still, I do want to go and get my ship, I will need to go home sometime.”

“Really?” Rachel asked again.

“Really,” he said, “you don’t need to come with me,” he said, “you have done enough for me already. I can go on alone.”

“Really?” Rachel asked again. “Where is Roswell?”

“I can find it on this,” Peter said and held up the iPad.

“No, you can’t,” Rachel said, “that is mine and it was expensive.”

“Oh,” Peter said, “also, who were the agents with?”

Rachel sighed again, “oh, come on,” she said, “I better go with you or I’ll read you were captured on some alien hunters’ website, or hear that you died on some news network.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Peter said and hugged her, “I mean, you can come along if you want to. You know, I don’t really need you. I could buy one of those things.”

“Be quiet,” Rachel said, “and be grateful I am going to help you,” she added. “Now let’s go and have breakfast before we get on the road again.”

“Okay,” Peter said, “what exactly are all of the things he said he would fetch us?”

“Mostly they are made from the meat of animals,” Rachel said, “toast is grains and beans are pulses; look them up,” Rachel said, indicating the iPad.

Peter enthusiastically did so.

*     *     *

After their breakfast they headed out.

“To get to the United States, which is where Roswell is, we will need to get a plane,” Rachel informed Peter.

“A plane?” Peter said. “One of those birds that carry humans? Will it take us up into the sky?”

“Why are you so excited about this?” Rachel asked. “You came here in a spacecraft, from outer space. That is higher, faster, and much cooler than going in a plane.”

“Yes,” Peter said, “I may have come in a spacecraft but I don’t actually remember it, therefore going in a plane will be my first memory of being in earth’s sky.”

“Okay,” she said and smiled at him, “I understand now.”

“Where do we get a plane?” Peter asked her as they drove towards Brisbane. “Is there somewhere special to go?”

“An airport,” Rachel said, “but the security in those places is really tight. You will need something called I.D. to get past them and get onto the plane. We need to go and get you your own form of I.D. used for flying: they are called passports. We will also need to forge a birth certificate for you.”

“Okay,” Peter said, “where do we go for that?”

“I know someone,” Rachel said and focused on the road again.

“Of course you do,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. He was fairly sure forging a birth cert wasn’t exactly a legal activity.

“What does that mean?” Rachel asked.

“On my planet, I think, I was a law abiding citizen. I get the feeling that you have never had any regard for the law in your entire life.”

“Probably not,” she agreed.

They drove on in silence.

After twelve hours of driving Rachel finally pulled the car over. She was flicking through an address book. Peter was asleep in the back of the van by the time she arrived at the place she needed to be.

“Where is he?” Tim, her contact asked.

Rachel motioned to the back and Tim took a look in.

“Like a baby,” he commented.

Rachel nodded in response.

“What do you both need from me?” he asked her as she got out of the van to join him.

“Birth certs, passports, drivers licenses, a whole new identity for both of us,” Rachel explained to him.

“What are you doing?” the guy asked her suspiciously, “I have never had one of yours come for a complete new identity before.”

“Ask no questions and hear no lies,” Rachel promised him.

“Have you pictures of both of you?” he asked her.

“On the iPad,” Rachel said and leaned back into the van and picked it up.

“Should we wake him?” he asked Rachel.

She looked back to the alien in her backseat and shook her head, “probably best to let him sleep,” she said.

“Come with me,” he said, “we should not do this outdoors.”

“Of course,” she nodded and followed him into his converted warehouse.

The warehouse had stone walls and a galvanized roof. Looking around Rachel could tell Tim’s interests; too many computer products sat everywhere in the large living space. Some of these he must use for his work, others were clearly for recreation.

Rachel pinched her nose. A waft of something not particularly pleasant had hit her. It smelled like dirty clothing and rotting food mixed together. A swift, second, glance around confirmed it was exactly that.

“Have you any air fresheners?” she asked him.

Tim turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow and smiled an amused smile, “not enjoying the smell?” He asked.

“It is rather putrid, isn’t it?” she replied.

He laughed.

“The best I can do is offer you some vapour rub,” he said and walked to a cabinet and took the little tub from it and brought it to her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked him, twirling the jar of jelly in her hand.

“When I was in school there was once a bird, of some sort, dead and stuck there. We could smell it in the classroom and when we explained to someone on the maintenance staff they brought a jar of this to put below our noses, as it would be all we would smell.”

“Is that why you have this?” Rachel asked, “because you realise how disgusting your house smells and need to take a break from it every now and again?”

He laughed again.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” she said.

“You better be careful how much you insist on insulting me, Sheila,” he said, “you need me to make you new identities. If you aren’t careful I may become too offended and that would mean you’ll be leaving here empty handed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said and placed the vapour rub under her nostrils.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “I know the place is a disgrace. I can’t be bothered to clean it and bringing in a cleaner may alert people I don’t want alerted to the fact that I have an illegal identity creation operation going on in here.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said and moved a pile of dirty clothes in order to sit down. Despite the vapour rub under her nose, moving the dirty clothing caused a breeze of stench to hit Rachel, making her nose crinkle up.

“Let’s get down to business then,” Tim said as his computers and printers started up, “who do you want to be?”

“Who do I…?” she began.

“Want to be, yeah? Like, what name do you want on his and your own birth certs, licences and everything?”

“Oh,” Rachel said, understanding the question, “You can make me Rachel Smith,” she said, “born in Melbourne, twenty-five years ago.”

“Okay,” he said, scribbling down the details, “and sleeping beauty in the van?”

“He’s Peter McIntosh,” she said, “born in Perth, nineteen years ago.”

“Nineteen?” Tim asked, “are you sure? That’s a little young, he could pass for twenty-two or three if you wanted. Also it looks less weird, you hanging out with a guy in his early twenties instead of a guy in his late teens.”

“He’s nineteen,” Rachel insisted.

“Fine, fine,” he gave in, hands held in the air, holding a black pen in his right hand, “he’s nineteen, I get it.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said, smiling smugly to herself as the pen was leaking, dying Tim’s hand black.

“The customer is always right,” he said, faking a smile back at her.

*     *     *

It took Tim over three hours before he had made new identities for Rachel and Peter. Rachel wasn’t sure what to expect. She had never had a new identity created for herself before. She had planned for a number of possibilities, including needing to stay overnight. Peter and she had been driving for a long time, and Rachel was now very tired. Peter, fortunately, was asleep in the van; or at least she hoped he was still in the van. He was more rested than she was, or at least he would be when he finally woke up. Rachel watched as Tim gathered some papers from the printer. He made a sound, telling Rachel he was disappointed with what the printer had produced, and he returned to the computer.

“Thank you for the work you are putting in,” she gulped and said to Tim, after a long period of silence between the two of them.

“I’m nearly done,” Tim said without looking at her. From the short time she had been in the house he had learned that she was a ‘no nonsense’ woman.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, smiling at him, “I’m going to go and check on Peter,” she said, emphasising the last word.

He chuckled. “Here,” he said and tossed keys to Rachel, “you’ll need to them to let yourself back in.”

“Thanks,” she said as she bounced the keys off her hands twice before they finally fell to the floor.

He chuckled again.

Rachel rolled her eyes at the laugh as she picked up the keys from the floor and turned to leave the warehouse.

“Make sure no one sees you,” he said.

She nodded, but didn’t ask why; it didn’t really matter to her anyway.

Once Rachel was outside the door of the warehouse she remembered why she left in the first place. She was worried about the idea of Peter waking up in the van, in the dark, by what appeared to be abandoned warehouses. The alien would freak out, think Rachel abandoned him and run off into the dark somewhere. She had no intentions of abandoning him. She felt as if she was Earth’s ambassador in this situation, and she wished to represent her planet well. Plus, he was easy on the eyes.

Rachel opened the door to the van and peered into the darkness. She saw nothing, as her eyes were not yet adjusted to the lack of light.

Rachel’s heart began to beat faster, she felt a wave of panic surge through her but just as she managed to get a hold of herself she saw Peter sitting in the back of the van looking out at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“What?” she asked him, confused.

“You look really worried about something,” he said as he moved towards the side door to the van.

“Do I?” she asked him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look so worried. I don’t know why I do.”

“It’s okay,” he said to her, “I know what’s wrong.”

“You do?” she asked, he was standing in front of her now, ridiculously close.

“Yes,” he said as he put her arms around her, “you are a female person, all by yourself, you need someone to treat you like a princess and love you,” he explained to her.

She pushed him away from her, “have you been reading the internet again?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said, “and I learned a lot about the differences between us. Do you know that…” he began, reaching for his belt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rachel said and held up her hand to his mouth, cutting him off, “in human society it is not polite to talk about those things.”

“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t know. I won’t say anything more.”

“Good,” she said and smiled at him.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked, “I am quite tired and finding a bed would be a great thing.”

“Finding a bed?” she asked, a little outraged, “you slept for most of the drive, if anyone should be tired it should be me.”

“It may be true that I slept,” Peter said, “but I did sleep in the back of this van and it is not very comfortable.”

“Don’t slag my van off,” Rachel said and gave him a friendly smack.

“We should get back inside,” Peter said and walked past her.

“Wait,” Rachel said, “don’t go in there.”

“Why not?” he asked her.

“It’s just…” she thought about it, “he’s nearly done in there, it should only be a minute.”

“I understand,” Peter said and smiled slyly.

“What do you think you understand?” she asked him, picking up on the smile.

“You aren’t alone after all?” he asked.

“What?” Rachel exclaimed, “Tim? You are joking right?”

“Oh, you aren’t interested in him?” Peter asked.

“No,” she nearly screamed.

“Women are confusing creatures,” Peter concluded as he got back into the van.

“Men have been saying that for centuries,” Rachel said and grinned at him, before walking back into the warehouse.

“And they are ready,” Tim said after she had given him back his keys.

“Let me see?” she asked and took the I.D.s and birth certs from him.

“What do you think?” he asked her.

“They are perfect,” she said smiling at him, “they look exactly like the real ones.”

“That was the idea,” Tim said, “if they didn’t I would be shockingly bad at my job.”

“Speaking of,” Rachel said, “how much do I owe you?”

“Ten thousand,” he said as if it was peanuts.

“Ten grand?” she asked, her voice doing that high-pitched thing it did when she was a little outraged by something.

“Each,” Tim added, forcing himself to say the words.

“Twenty grand?” she asked, the voice was barely a squeak now.

“I had to create complete new people,” Tim argued, “that sort of service cannot come cheap.”

“I get that,” Rachel said, “but couldn’t you apply mates rates?”

“Mates rates?” he asked, his own voice taking on a higher pitch now, “I barely know you.”

“Okay,” she said, “Peter and I fly from Brisbane international to LAX at five pm tomorrow. I will have the money for you in the lobby at three. Is that okay?” Rachel asked him.

“You didn’t come prepared?” he asked, looking both annoyed and disappointed.

“I did come prepared,” Rachel protested, “I wasn’t prepared enough.”

“What do you have right now?” he asked her.

“Four thousand,” she replied.

“For me,” he said, “it makes sense if I take that cash now and hand over the driver’s licence for that amount. That way I have some form of deposit.”

“That’s perfect,” Rachel responded, knowing there was no way she was getting more products from the worm before she handed over the full amount.

“I will see you and the boy tomorrow then,” Tim said and showed Rachel to the door.

When Rachel got back to the car Peter was sitting in the passenger seat again, “did you get what we needed?” he asked her.

“Unfortunately not,” Rachel said, “he was asking for more money than I had with me.”

“What will we do now?” Peter asked her.

“He will meet us tomorrow in the airport,” Rachel said, “and I will pay him then. For now, we need to find a hotel to rest in for the night.”

*     *     *

The next day came too quickly for both Rachel and Peter. After the distance they had travelled the day before they needed much more sleep than the six hours they got.

“Get up, Peter,” Rachel called him for the fifth time.

Peter was surrounded by the softest of furnishings in the nicest room he had ever been in. There were about ten cushions on the bed when he had gotten in last night. Now these cushions lay between him and the cold outside the blankets. These barriers also stopped him from rolling, which he had learned, he did a lot.

“I’m up,” Peter called to Rachel from the comfort of his blanket fortress.

“Okay,” she said through the door, “I’ll see you at breakfast in ten; if you aren’t there I’m getting a key and coming in.”

She walked away and he rolled his eyes, then rolled over the mound of cushions and hit the floor.

“That was the only way I would actually get up,” he reminded himself when he landed awkwardly on his left hand.

Peter went into the bathroom for a really quick shower. He now had seven minutes before Rachel would be letting herself in.

Peter was one minute late to the breakfast table. As he entered the eloquently decorated breakfast area he was worried that Rachel would have already left and be on her way back up towards their rooms.

After a frantic scan of the tables Peter saw her, waiting for him at table eighteen. He casually strolled over to her and pulled out his chair.

“Where have you been?” she asked him.

“Showering,” he said as he sat down.

“You are a couple of minutes late,” she informed him, “I was about to go looking for you.”

“I thought it was best to wash now,” he said, “after all today we begin another day of travel which you have promised to take even longer than the travelling we did yesterday. I thought you would prefer that to smelling me all the time.”

“This is true,” Rachel noted, “please sit and eat, I still need to head to a bank.”

“Do they have the animal by-products here that we ate yesterday?” Peter asked her.

“Yes,” she said and laughed to herself, “They do.”

“I enjoyed them,” he said.

*     *     *

“What are they doing?” Cohen asked his comrade.

“Basically, they are just eating,” McGregor replied.

Cohen and McGregor were two of the people Agent Reece had assigned to the case of Rachel and Peter. They were charged with following both of them and making sure that neither of them actually did know anything about the alien ship that crash landed near Longreach a couple of days before.

Cohen was in his late thirties and was McGregor’s superior. He had buzz cut light brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was a well-built man and was a little over six feet.

McGregor was shorter than him, coming in at five nine. He had long, curly dark brown hair and blue eyes. McGregor was more slender than Cohen, but was still built for the fights someone in his line of work was bound to come across.

“It’s nice to be on earth for a change,” McGregor said to his commanding officer.

“You are pulling my leg right?” he asked him, “us being on earth, watching people who may or may not know about an alien that may or may not have crash landed on earth is not something to celebrate. An alien craft got past Earth’s defences.”

“I know that,” McGregor said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy that we are here, and not on some alien world light-years from home, do you know what I mean?”

“You always look for the silver lining,” Cohen said, smiling at the younger man, “that is what I like about you McGregor.”

“I am pretty amazing,” McGregor agreed, “it would be hard not to like me.”

“Your rebellious streak could do with some refining,” the older operative said.

“Ah here now,” McGregor replied, feigning offence, “my rebellious streak has given us some of the best memories and it has gotten us out of more than one sticky situation.”

“This may be true,” Cohen replied, “but it still stands that you do the rebellious things and I take all the blame.”

“I don’t mean for you to be blamed,” he said and smiled a cheeky smile, “I just do what I think is right.”

“Sometimes what is right might be doing what you are told,” Cohen suggested.

McGregor shook his head, “I doubt that, to be honest. The right thing to do is the thing you know to be right. It’s built into you, somehow, it doesn’t come from other people telling you what to do.”

“Someday,” Cohen pointed out, “you will move from level fifteen to level seven, where I am, and when that day comes I will enjoy you having to explain your own actions to our superiors.”

“Thanks,” McGregor said and nudged his friend.

“I even more look forward to the day when you get used to the way things are and then are given your own teenaged brat to look after. You’ll be the me of the party then.”

“I hate that phrase,” McGregor said, narrowing his eyes.

“Which phrase?” Cohen asked, thinking over the things he had just said.

“The way things are,” McGregor replied, “it should be wiped from the dictionary. I will never do things because that is the way they are done. We should constantly be questioning things, constantly be improving how we do them. That is especially true in our line of work. We come across new things everyday and each of those new situations, friends and foes, needs to be dealt with in a way appropriate to it.”

“Your head is full of wonderful ideas,” Cohen said, “I was like that when I first joined the EA, but eventually you come to realise that one person cannot change the world.”

“I bet one person could change the world. Look at what happened last year in my home country.”

“That wasn’t one person,” Cohen argued. “That was an army opposing an army.”

“Yeah,” McGregor replied, “but the result wasn’t because of the army. I’ve heard stories that the big, gaping hole is the result of one guy, a guy that is younger than me.”

“So you want to blow up a city?” Cohen asked the younger operative.

“No,” McGregor said. “That isn’t what I’m saying at all.”

“What are you saying?” Cohen asked McGregor.

“That one person can make a difference,” McGregor said and looked back in the window of the hotel.

“Certain people can, to be sure…” Cohen began, but McGregor interrupted him.

“They’re gone,” he said as he jumped from his seat in the grass outside the window.

“What?” Cohen said, McGregor was already on his way to the front of the hotel.