Chapter 21

I decided to bite the bullet and trenched my power ... the power provider ran natural gas in the same trench. Oooh ... Sparks and flammables in close proximity. How exciting.

The cost was right at eighty thousand ... it was worth it. I no longer have to shit in a bag and pack it out. It only takes one time to have a bag of fermenting shit burst to make paying for power a good deal.

We eventually contacted a kit manufacturer and were offered the best of good deals. Deposit paid ... unit delivered two years ago ... never assembled ... purchase uncompleted ... two bedrooms, huge fireplace, three baths, living room kitchen combination. Class act kitchen equipment ... all we had to do was pick it up. The address was about two days away. We drove up.

And that’s where things got complicated.

The man who made the down payment pissed someone off. A rather militant someone. A sovereign citizen member. (The New South Wales Police Force Counter Terrorism and Special Tactics Command assessed that members of the anti-government sovereign citizen movement posed a potential terrorist threat.) No possible connection between the purchaser and the movement has been proven ... but ... the day after posting building permits across the road from a Movement day camp (read training ground), the purchaser’s wife called the police to report him missing. Two years have passed and still not a word, phone call or letter has appeared. No trace.

The kit was still at the permitted location ... the camp was still across the road ... now heavily fenced, gated and patrolled from inside the chain link fence. When we mentioned to the Federal unit keeping watch what we were going to do ... retrieve the unit... , under conditions of anonymity, we were informed that drone surveillance reported that war games were indeed carried out ... using licensed and legal paintball equipment.

Of course, we showed up at the site with ex military transport ... scared the movement half to death. Drone evidence of their extreme reaction caused the SWAT contingent to realize that “something was up” and invaded (raided) the compound. We don’t know what took place except ... there seemed to be more bearded men in white dresses loaded into police vans than there were members of said movement.

Our part concluded, we took our toys and went home. The trip home took two days. Then it was the first available weekend to our new land ... one with no rain ... or snow.

So far ... the ordeal had been routine ... for us. What came next, as we were threading our way down the northeast side of Bowen’s ridge was Abby exclaiming:

“Daddy.”

“Don’t bother me ... this next bit is tricky.”

“You should look.”

“Abby.”

“Just look!” she demanded.

So ... I looked.

“Holy shit!” I slammed on the brakes.

From the mouth of the cave out about 50 meters the land was perfectly flat and level. The face where the tunnel was, had been cut back exactly square with the now leveled land. One could see that the end of the house would fit in the notch with just enough room on both sides to finish the exterior walls. In front of the tunnel extending out, the foundation was already poured. The rest of the leveled land was grass and a few trees.

So ... I said ... out loud, “Why didn’t you go the whole way and build the house?”

“Because that would look suspicious.”

“This doesn’t?”

“From overhead, it looks normal.”

“Oh Really?” Not really a question. More a sarcastic retort, with overtones of panic. “Why is that?” That was actually a question.

“When you, in your infinite idiocy, registered the land as an American Embassy, muslim employees of the Federal Government reported that registration to their Imam. He reported to whoever radical Imams report to. Drones regularly overfly the site.”

“Fuck!”

“Daddy!”

I apologized.

“However, now that you’re here, take this shotgun and blast the next drone. It’s illegal for foreign agents to spy on Australian citizens. The government can do it ... but the Imam can’t.”

“Will I get in trouble?”

“Not with us. Can you imagine the drone operators reporting the loss of an illegal intelligence drone to the authorities?”

I gave that a think.

“So when do I put up the house?”

“You don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“We’ll have it done by tomorrow.”

“And that won’t look suspicious?”

“Nope ... you’ll just look very handy.”

“G’day, Mate.”

“Jim!”