Detina Chapter 2: Awakening DAVID WOKE WITH A START. He realized it was morning, and though the bedroom window the light of a sunny day was admitted, draping him in a golden coat. Then came the memory of the dream. He could still literally see imprints of its vivid climactic visions in his mind's eye, in higher dimensional light, flashing behind his regular vision. He turned on to his side and tried to seek meaning in the queer and magical inner revelation, but found none. He then closed his eyes and attempted to re-enter the fascinating dream, but his mother, appearing at the doorway, interrupted his quest for sleep, and summoned him to the breakfast table. Discussion was light over the morning meal. As it was a school day, David and his younger brother Greg were attired in their uniforms; his youngest brother Mick, meanwhile, was still asleep. The family could be best described as ordinary (a word which David hated, as he believed in the merits of originality and being the exception to the rule - his parents, on the other hand, disdained standing out from the crowds and strove for normalcy wherever possible) inhabiting an ordinary house, and following ordinary pursuits like sport, church or socially acceptable gatherings. <<So Davie, did you sleep okay?>> his mother, by all accounts an ordinary woman of 35 years, asked as he slurped his porridge. <<Yeah>> he replied vaguely, mind still absorbed by his dream, the crystalline settlement and the rocket which he had glimpsed, the strange runic characters engraved on its silvery hull. <<Mum>> he began, but then broke off, embarrassed. <<What is it?>> she quizzed, her brows furrowing. <<Oh, nothing>> the boy retreated. He decided to change the subject. <<Anyway, we're going out to the scrub again this afternoon. We've got a new cubby.>> Her eyes lit up. <<That's great news! Be careful though.>> Having consumed her repast, she rose and carried her empty plate to the kitchen. David too finished his porridge and got ready for school. HE SAT NEXT TO Richard again that morning. While he had been dying to acquaint himself with the newcomer ever since his sudden arrival, he had not had the opportunity to introduce himself. Just before classes began, he plucked up the courage to start a conversation. <<So, did you come from Forbes?>> he inquired. <<Yeah>> the stranger replied, fiddling with his pencil case. His mood seemed to be one of despondence, even dejection. Forbes was a large agricultural town on the highway from Parkes to West Wyalong, a few hundred kilometers distant, dating back to the Gold Rush. Dave had visited the local park with JC and his family just a few months previously, and inspected the grave of notorious bushranger Ben Hall, who was killed there. It was not exactly a metropolis, but at least an order of magnitude livelier than Trundle. Perhaps Richard was unhappy about being moved here? Detecting a lull in the exchange, David asked: <<Are you here for good, then?>> <<Yep, for good>> was the boy's gloomy response, as if he'd just been handed a life sentence. Abruptly, his melancholy lifted, and he said: <<Are you friends with Nathan Taylor?>> <<Yes, I am>> David responded, semi-surprised. <<Do you know him?>> <<He came over to my house yesterday>> the new kid said. <<Oh did he?>> David mused. He remembered then Nathan's broken promise of visiting the scrub to work on the cubby, which he had not yet explained. While David was pondering this revelation, Mrs Hetherington, who had hitherto been detained on some business, returned to the classroom, and quietened the multitude of small talks which were being conducted. In the hours that followed, David's affection for Richard grew immensely. So much so that when class was dismissed for lunch, the lad escorted his new friend to the Red Hand Gang's principal hangout. It was on the edge of a vast, stony paddock of grotesque weeds that comprised Trundle Central School's playground. Due to the harsh climate the town suffered, David had never once seen a blade of grass growing in that thorny, barren expanse. It troubled him naught, however, for it was a place that he regularly harvested for good times and pleasant memories, and in that regard, it was a lush paradise. The four sat beneath a feeble gum tree discussing the events of the day, the achievements of yesterday, and the hopes and dreams for tomorrow. Joshua had taken to Richard with a moderate liking, although he did not seem to perceive in him the potential friend that Nathan and David saw. The two seemed to be at opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their upbringing: son of a church minister, Josh was somewhat conservative in nature, selective about his company, while Richard appeared to have humbler, working class origins. Still, the two were here together as peers, whatever their respective backgrounds. As can be expected, deliberation began with the matter of the new cubby. <<So, will you be able to see it today, Nathan?>> David asked, staring at the boy intently. <<Sure, I'll make it>> Nathan replied, undeterred by the skeptical gaze which David had fixed on him. <<You and Josh should stop at my place on the way out there. Make it half past three.>> <<What about you, Rich?>> David canvassed. <<Are you coming too?>> The short, scruffy schoolboy shrugged his shoulders. <<Nah, I don't think so.>> He did not proceed to offer an explanation, and David was unable to press him further, for at that moment something rather peculiar happened. Since the beginning of lunch a laxly-organized game of cricket had been played on a rough pitch in the middle of the playground. Over the last few minutes a certain Andrew Bickett had come to the crease. He was a short, unobtrusive boy with a vulturine head (hook-beaked nose and keen black eyes) and the body of a weasel; in character he was a coward and a cheat, a double-crosser and a sore loser, and a whiner and a liar. Anyway, even as the Red Hand Gang started discussing the cubby this ferret taken up his bat; as Nathan had arranged this afternoon's trip to the scrub, Robbie Kingham was thundering down the pitch, ball in hand; as Richard was declining the offer to go along, Andrew was rose his bat, swung clumsily, and missed. The ball, whizzing through the air like an angry bee, passed his bat and struck the middle stump with such force as to knock it out of the ground and hurl it at least a meter from where it had stood. Andrew was frozen for a long moment, paralyzed in disbelief. <<It isn't fair!>> he snarled.<<It isn't fair!>> A rather tall girl who happened to own the ball being used came to replace him as batter, but Andrew held the blade aloft defiantly. No-one was going to remove him without a fight. <<Bickett, you're out!>> several players shouted at once, as the tall girl waited impatiently, just out of the range of his bat. <<That wasn't fair!>> the weasel hollered, tears welling in his eyes. <<That wasn't fair!>> Then, surrendering to the fury that was brewing inside him, he swung the bat with all his might and then let go, sending it flying over clump of fielders. One of the targeted players, a plucky Aboriginal lad, charged at Andrew, who now stood on the pitch with tears streaming down his face. He noticed the ball lying near his feet. Hatching a plot to spoil the game which had been so unfair to him, he picked it up and ran across the playground, towards the classrooms. <<What are ya doin' with me ball?>> the tall girl screamed, as some dozen or so kids gave pursuit. Sensing imminent capture, he quickened his pace and diverted his course slightly, so that he was bound right towards the tree that Dave and his gang were sitting beneath. As he sprinted closer the boys jumped to their feet, enthralled by the spectacle that was playing out before them. Andrew sped on, but he was rapidly running out of space. Finally realizing that escape was impossible, he skidded and wound back his right arm, into a pitching motion. David was filled with dread, for the weapon he was priming was aimed squarely at a huddle of girls, who appeared completely oblivious to the danger they faced. In a second that seemingly stretched for hours, as the agonizing pain of expectation numbed his brain, David felt the world fall away, as if he were lost in an internal landscape, a dream without content. His sole connection to reality was the form of Andrew Bickett, ready to release his ball on a flight of certain disaster. Andrew was frozen in place, but from the geometry of his throw, numerous potential trajectories were sketched with dotted lines. There was a bell curve of most likely possibilities, but none of them looked good. Instantly a barrier was breached somewhere in David's mind, and a powerful energy surged through him. It was akin to a drug high or on orgasm, although the young boy had never experienced either. Andrew was lifted off the ground, as if by invisible hands, and then dumped unceremoniously on the dirt. The ball rolled harmlessly out of his clutch. <<Ha! ha! He tripped!>> Nathan cried uproariously. As his posse of pursuers arrived to apprehend him, the disheveled heap bounded up from the gravel and scampered home to school. David stood alone, not laughing like his peers, literally speechless. The spectacular force which had been unleashed deep within him had retreated to its hidden origin, but the mystery it left behind was profound. <<You feeling all right?>> Nathan asked, slightly concerned. David snapped back to earth with a jolt. <<Yeah, sure... something just happened>> he muttered. <<You look strange>> Nathan told him. <<Different, somehow. I don't know how.>> <<I don't know how, either>> David said. <<I don't know how.>> FIRST CONTACT (c)opyright Rob Sullivan 1988-2023. Contact the author for all your criticisms and feedbacks.