Chapter 01

Author’s Note: This is an action adventure story, but it’s also about a boy who suffers a terrible loss, and then he just exists while he learns the truth of the quote above. Through the journey in this tale he finds a new family and his way home to them.

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

John Donne, 1624

English writer

Tuesday

Entering the classroom of my new school I try to look calm, casual, and cool. I’m a little apprehensive while thinking, Maybe selecting this school out of all the schools in Frederick wasn’t such a good idea? All the other students are seated and I’ve a choice of five empty desks. Applying my usual rule of being hidden in open view I head for the only vacant desk in the front row: it’s the second desk from the window and right in front of the teacher’s desk. The fact a nice looking red-haired girl is in the window seat of the front row makes it a very easy choice to make.

Although nervous about the school due to an unsettling encounter this morning plus some things I saw yesterday, I’m not prepared for the way the students’ expressions change from interest to disdain or hate when it becomes obvious which seat I’m heading to. Even the teacher raises an eyebrow when I put my bag down to sit in the chair. The girl has a very surprised look on her face when I say, “Good morning.”

The teacher glances around the room then she picks up her roll book and says, “I take it you’re the new student expected yesterday - Allen Adams. You best stand and tell us about yourself.”

Due to my misgivings about the school I give her a small smile when I stand, “Yes, I’m Allyn Adams. It’s a Welsh name and it’s pronounced with a drawn out ’A’ sound as Aa-lyn - not Al-n, but most people call me Al. As you can tell by my accent, I’m Australian. I didn’t ride a kangaroo to school as I went by bus, just like the rest. My father’s here on a five year contract as an adviser with a security company. We live in a hotel while looking for permanent housing. Yesterday was spent doing some exams because the school had me do tests to enter the classes I listed for. I give fair warning - I’m a militant pacifist! Which means I’ll take some steps to avoid any physical confrontation, but I won’t stand for anyone picking on my family, or friends, or bullying. I prefer to avoid fights if I can; but when pushed hard or confronted with bullying I strike hard, fast, and ruthlessly. My sole intent is to be very quick to put the other person down and out of the fight in the long term. So, if you’re thinking of picking on me I strongly suggest you think again. I’m here to learn and to get a diploma so I can go to university. I think you call it college.” I nod at the teacher and I sit down again. From her expression it’s clear she didn’t expect a speech like that, but she’ll learn about me as we get to know each other. I notice some students are taking a good look at my well-muscled body while my above average height is also a concern for some of them.

She says, “I’m Miss Waters and this class is the advanced class in American History. I do hope you’ve been able to study the previous years’ work, because it’s needed to do well in this class.” I give a nod to show I had. Studying for the US Civics and Government class as well as this class is most of what I’ve done since Dad said he was taking a job in the USA, some months ago. I was able to get the syllabus and class studies information through the US Embassy in Canberra when Dad made the decision to take the job offer. She adds, “Am I right to assume you’ve had an altercation today?” I nod again. She gives me a slow nod while she picks up her book, “Right, a check on yesterday’s work. Why was the invention of the Cotton Gin so important to the economy of the Southern states?” Thus, my first US class lesson starts.

When the bell goes we’re all quick to leave the room and head to our next classes. Being unfamiliar with the school I’m soon passed by the other students hurrying about because they know where they’re going while I make my slow way by following the map I was given yesterday morning. I’m the last to enter the room for the double period of Advanced Mathematics class to find the same girl sitting in the same spot by herself, also many of the other students are from the last class. Shrugging, I walk over to sit down beside her again, getting an odd look from this teacher too. He asks my name and checks off the roll when I give it. Math is the same the world over, so this class is no problem.

Lunch

The next bell signals the start of lunch at noon, so I head for the school cafeteria where I ask for and buy a lunch of two salad sandwiches of just lettuce and tomato with shredded carrot plus a fruit juice. I find it odd I had to get this sandwich as a special order as they don’t make simple salad sandwiches in the USA. Looking around I see plenty of empty seats guarded with ’keep away’ glares from the few people already at the tables. The only non-hostile table is one at the back wall with the red-haired girl sitting by herself. So I walk over and ask, “Mind if I join you for lunch?”

She glances up, shrugs, and says, “Why not! It’ll make a nice change, until someone tells you I’m the school pariah since my mother isn’t rich. I only get to come here because her employer pays for me to and having me go to the same school their kids go to makes the transport easy on them with just the one car. The fees mean nothing to them.”

Pleased with her attitude I laugh, “I was the school pariah at my last school because my mother was seen as rich due to owning a business. So far I prefer to be with the nice pariahs than with the not nice accepted crowd. I think the rest will class me with you because my Dad works for a living. Oh, he’s well paid, but he can’t afford the fees to send me here. I’m only here because I chose this school on the advice of a friend who went here fifteen years ago and he has some family here now.”

She gives me a questioning look while saying, “I’m Kathleen, Kath to my friends. Please call me Kath. If your Dad can’t afford to pay the fees how come you’re here, then?”

“It’s a long story. You’ll need the whole lunch break.” She nods for me to continue so I take a deep breath and start. “Dad is on a good wage, but my fees are paid by me via my trust fund. I put everything through the trust fund because it saves on taxes while it makes the overall management easier. As I said earlier, Mum was rich. However, she was killed several months ago in a car collision, along with the rest of my family. Dad was in the Army and he was often away. Mum and Uncle Rob owned and managed a good business together. Aunt Betty, Rob’s wife, was a senior executive of the business too. Two or three of the four were often away for work, so we sort of lived as a large family with four kids and four parents. That way there was always one parent around. As the oldest kid I was also kept busy looking after my younger sister and cousins, but it was more like I had two sisters and a brother.”

My happy mood fades quite a bit while I talk of the past, “Anyway, they were all in the car together on the way home from a trip to a theme park a short drive out of Sydney. I was supposed to go along, but I begged off on the day because I was trying to get a birthday present for my cousin Alice. She wanted a new album by her favourite band and I had five copies on special order to be put aside by the local record store. However, one of the staff didn’t like me so he sold my reserved copies to his mates. From the sales records the manager worked out who sold the reserved copies and he fired the person for selling them. That made me happy and him angry, but it didn’t get me the CDs. So I spent the day searching all over Sydney for a copy for Alice, and four more - I hoped: one for my sister Gwen’s birthday the next month, plus three for some good friends with birthdays due soon. I’d found four during the day while I spent six hours walking about twenty kilometres in and out of every possible store in the Sydney Central Business District, North Sydney, and a few other close suburbs. I took a taxi home about mid-afternoon because I was tired. I wasn’t surprised they hadn’t got home first as Sunday afternoon traffic back into Sydney is always very heavy.”

“I put the albums away and fixed myself a light meal. About seven that evening the doorbell chimed, it was the police.”

All of a sudden it’s like I’m transported back in time to that night when my memories swamp my mind to takeover my sensory input while I relive that terrible time during my recounting of the events, and I feel very depressed again. I’m no longer happy, not happy at all, as I continue to tell Kath what happened.

Living a Nightmare

The chimes are still ringing when I walk down the hall while I wonder who it can be calling, unexpected, at this time of a Sunday night. I open the door to see two police officers, one male and one female. The male officer, Harris, according to his name tag, asks, “Excuse me, is this the residence of Robyn Adams, Robert Evans, and Betty Evans?”

I nod to him while saying, “Yes, it is. They’re all out and are due back any moment.” Both seem to flinch a bit, and I wonder why.

“Is Mister Adams home?”

I wonder what’s up and say, “I’m the closest to a Mister Adams here, even if I’m only sixteen. Mum and Dad are in the middle of a divorce and Dad is overseas on duty with the Army right now. So I’m it.”

The female officer, Jenkins, by her name tag, says, “Oh, sorry. We didn’t know. Can we come in, please?” I nod while I point them toward the front lounge room that’s reserved for visitors. I’m thinking hard. They enter and I close the door before following them to the room. After we all sit down she says, “Are there any adults in the house or nearby?”

I gulp because I now suspect there’s a big problem. I’ve seen far too many shows with police procedures that start with something like that. “No. What’s happened? Where are they?” I’m very worried now.

“I’m sorry, there’s been an accident. Their SUV was hit by a drunk.”

Standing up I go to the hall to get my coat, “Take me to them, now.” They glance at each other, and he starts to speak. It’s clear he’s about to refuse. I put all the command tone I can into my voice, “I said now!” They both sigh and stand up. I show them to the front door, turning off lights and setting the alarm as we leave. In the driveway I get out my cell phone and I call the family solicitor, Mr Belling, to tell him what I know. When we near the police car I ask, “Where are they? Which hospital?”

Harris says, “Hornsby Hospital.” I nod thanks, and tell Mr Belling.

About half an hour later we arrive at the hospital to find Mr Belling just pulling up as he lives more north than we do. We enter the hospital with Senior Constable Harris leading. At one turn we take I notice Mr Belling glance over at Constable Jenkins. She nods yes, nods at me, and shakes her head no. I wonder what that’s all about because Mr Belling goes very white while glancing at me as he nods. A moment later I know what it’s all about when we approach a set of doors marked ’Morgue.’ My heart stutters while I think, Oh God no! Not this, not all of them.

My mind is almost numb when we walk into the chilled room. There are six cloth covered trolleys in the middle of the room with two staff beside one of them. One’s writing and the other is holding up the sheet while they look at the body and describe what they see. They look up at us when we walk in, and stop what they’re doing. I halt and take several deep breaths while I go through a calming routine to prepare myself to do what I’ve got to do, because I owe it to those I love to do this right. So I clamp down on my emotions, I clamp down hard, very hard.

After a moment I open my eyes again to see them all watching me. I slowly nod to them, and so does Mr Billings. The staff fold back the sheets so we can see the faces. Although there’s bad bruising and cuts I can recognise Mum, Aunt Betty, Uncle Rob, Gwen, Robert Junior, and Alice. Steeling myself as best as I can I walk up to give each member of my family a gentle caress of the face when I say goodbye while naming them for the police and hospital staff. By the time I reach Alice at the end of the line I’ve got my emotions under a very, very, very tight control.

Turning to Mr Belling I say, “Please see to the paperwork, and get the details of how it happened.” He nods, and I turn to leave. Outside I stop and step aside while I get my cell phone out to ring Gramps.

My grandfather answers, and I say, “Gramps, turn the extra speaker off, please? I need to talk to you in private,” while I lean against the wall.

“Sorry, Al, the switch is broken and it’s stuck in the on position. Anyway, your grandmother will kill me if I spoke to any of you kids on my own. So just go ahead and speak, I doubt there’s anything you can say we both shouldn’t know at once.”

I know it’s no use arguing with him when he’s in one of his moods, so I bite the bullet and talk, “This afternoon there was a car accident on the way home from the theme park. I was the only one who didn’t go. They got hit by a drunk and are at Hornsby Hospital, in the Morgue.”

Silence. Then a squeaky, “All dead?”

A teary, “Yes, Gramps.” Two thuds and silence. I shout, “Gramps, Gramps.” No answer. After hanging up I hit speed dial number eight to ring the medical emergency service for Gramps and Gran. They answer. I say, “Client echo one six niner four, code blue, code blue! Heart attack while on phone to me! Don’t waste time trying to check, get going!”

I hear the emergency alert operator call to another, “Forget trying to check with echo one six niner four, roll the ambulance now.” There’s an indistinct response.

Then she says, “Thank you, Sir. I’ve got your number from the ID system, and I see you’re on the response list. Can you tell us why you think it’s a heart attack, please?” Mr Belling walks out, and joins me.

“I was informing them of the death of the rest of the family in a car crash and I heard two loud thuds when they hit the floor with no reply from either when I shouted. I can only assume it’s heart attacks.”

“I wouldn’t be betting on any other cause, either. We’ll do what we can for them. You best look after yourself now, Sir.”

“Thank you, I’ve one more call to make.” I hang up, and hit speed dial six, then I hear a long series of signals while the international satellite call is made. A woman’s voice answers with the phone number, and I say, “Urgent for Centre Two, please.”

A polite, “Sorry, out of office at the moment, Sir.”

“Centre One, please.”

“Also out of the office.”

“Then Centre Dingo One must be available.”

“Sorry, also out of office.”

“Can’t be, that’s in violation of S.O.P.s! Damn! Who’s in charge?”

I hear a muffled voice talking with someone else, so they must have a hand over the phone. My emotions are starting to overwhelm me when a familiar voice says, “Excuse me, Sir, can I help you?”

The emotional shock is swelling up and I’m losing control. I’m quick to blurt out, “Powder, Archie. Urgent for Centre Two. Blue fire, boomer, bang, goner, Rushmore.” That’s it. Losing control I slide down the wall as the tears flow and I start to sob, but I got the essentials across to him.

Sergeant Steve ’Powder’ Curry’s exclamation of “Shit,” sounds so far away. Constable Jenkins kneels down and puts her arms around me then she tips my head on her shoulder while Mr Belling takes the phone out of my hand. I can see them while they move about but they’re very slow, and then it all goes dim when I slip into a blessed blackness.

Command Decisions

Sergeant Curry hands the phone to the soldier, “Corporal Sims, keep this line open with the person on the other end of the phone.” He turns, walks to the Colonel’s office, knocks, and waits to be called in.

When he enters he gets glares from two Generals, the Colonel, the Major, and the Regimental Sergeant Major while the Colonel says, “No disruptions, was that too hard to understand, Sergeant?”

“Sorry, Sir, but this is extremely urgent for the Major.” He turns to face Major Adams, “Sir, urgent phone call from Archie for you. He said ’Blue fire, boomer, bang, goner, Rushmore,’ then he totally lost control.”

The faces of both Major Peter Adams and Colonel Barry Phillips go white. The Major glances at the Colonel, he gets a small nod, and says, “James or Moore. I’ll have Sergeant Curry brief you when I know more about it.” Another nod from the Colonel, and Major Adams leaves the room while the Generals turn to look at the Colonel.

Colonel Phillips says, “Archie is a nickname for Major Adams’ son Al, initials AA, get it?” They both nod. “He’s very smart and has never called the Major at work before. He has another nickname, some of the troops call him ’Arctic’ because he’s always cool and calm. The code words are old ones from a few years back. Essentially, they mean extreme urgency, mission aborted, abort all other operations, unit not effective, need major assistance for retrieval as we’re unable to move, casualties total. I take it to mean there’s an extreme family emergency involving multiple serious injuries. If that’s even partially true the Major won’t be of any use for this operation because their family’s small. He’s suggested alternates.” The Colonel picks up the phone and calls for Captain Moore to join the meeting as Major Adams’ replacement.

In the office Major Adams takes the phone from the Corporal, and is given a full briefing by Mr Belling while nursing staff place Al on a gurney to wheel him away for an examination. After a check by a doctor they put him to bed and keep him under observation for the night. After hanging up Adams briefs Sergeant Curry so he can tell the Colonel. Major Adams is soon very busy filling in forms for emergency leave and travel while Corporal Sims makes calls to organise his urgent travel home to Australia from Afghanistan. An hour later Major Adams has a bag in one hand, travel papers in the other, and is boarding a USAF plane heading to the USA via Darwin, Australia.

Note: AA is a common abbreviation for anti-aircraft fire. This was also nicknamed as ‘ack-ack’ and ‘Archie’ during World War One, and many people continue to use the nicknames today.

Monday

Waking up in a strange bed I can see it’s mid-morning by the sun. After a moment I realise I’m in a private room in a hospital. I lie there and wonder why, until the memory of last night catches up with me. I roll over, curl up, and start to wallow in self-pity while I cry again.

A little while later a young nurse comes in to take my pulse, etc. As she writes them on the chart she says, “Time you were up and showered. You can either smile at me and go have a shower or I can get a male nurse to give you a bed bath. Your call.” I give her a smile and start to get up. “I’ve seen nicer smiles on corpses, but it’ll do, today. You’ll have to do much better tomorrow or it’s a bed bath by a hairy man.” Then she leads me down the hall to the shower, and sits down on a chair after putting a change of hospital pyjamas on a small table in the room. It’s clear I’m not going to be left alone, so I strip and get into the shower. I get out after a thorough wash, to find her holding up a large towel. I step up close to the towel and she dries me, giving my skin a very vigorous rubbing with the towel while saying, “I’m rubbing hard as it invigorates the skin and gets the blood flowing. That should wake you up properly and make you feel a bit better.” I nod at her explanation. Soon after I’m returned to the room she brings in a nice meal for me to eat. A little after the meal Mr Belling walks in, sits down, and starts telling me about what happened.

A drunk had cut off a truck and slowed down by heavy braking. The truck driver tried to avoid an accident, but he had no room to fully stop. He hit the drunk’s car very hard, punching it into the next lane. The car crashed into the side of Rob’s large SUV. Hitting just behind the front wheel to push the SUV’s wheels off the road, across the emergency lane, and onto the grass at the roadside. Anywhere else it wouldn’t have been a problem, but the drunk’s car knocked the SUV off the road just at the approach to a bridge. The SUV was off the road and into the deep gully before Rob could react. My whole family, except Dad, dead while the drunk went to hospital because his car rammed the end of the barrier he’d pushed Rob past. The medical alert people in Brisbane advise Grandmother was dead on arrival at the hospital while Gramps is unconscious. The doctors are unsure if he’ll wake up or not. In either case, they don’t expect him to last the week. In less than a day I’ve gone from a family of ten to just Dad and me, since we can’t count my dying grandfather. What a bastard! He adds, “I explained it all to your father after you collapsed. He’s on his way home. He left soon after the call and should be here late today or early tomorrow. You’re staying here until he arrives to sign you out.” I look at him and I’m about to speak, but stop, and just nod. I may as well stay here to keep everyone happy while the medical staff keep a close eye on me, as to go home and stay in a house that’s empty of everything except memories that are very hard to take right now. He smiles at my acceptance of his arrangements for me.