The End of Time

The End Of Time

Donald Bambrick

Jamie looked at the Locket.

He opened it again. His wife, Margaret, their daughter, Jacinta, who would be forever known as Jaccs, and himself.

Happy, Smiling. Better times.

They were dead, of course. Jamie had been in Messenger video chat with them when the first of many nukes had gone off. They had not seen it, because they had their backs to it on the high-rise balcony, but Jamie saw the blast and for a fleeting second, had seen it hit them.

He had not known what he had seen, though, and the connection went dead.

He tried her mobile but nothing had worked. He rang emergency services and for a time, did not get through. When he did, it was the worst possible news.

Nuclear war had broken out. The tired and weary voice told him that most major Australian cities had been devastated. It seemed, from what few news services that were still operating, most of the world had been hit.

There was still a government, as it seemed they had been given enough time to take to shelters, but the vast majority of the public had not been told a thing.

Marshall law was in place. Military and police were commandeering any and all fuel supplies for themselves and the few medical staff left alive.

That caused Jamie a moment of ironical laughter.

They would burn up so much fuel to come and collect his 5,ooo litre farm supply that it would be a stupid exercise in futility.

He looked at the locket.

He had ordered it from a jeweller, and it would have been Jaccs Christmas present that year. Now, she would never wear it.

It was a bastard of a thing.

For perhaps a century, his family had fought drought, fires, floods, banks, and government regulations to keep the land he loved. There was no fighting the nuclear fallout that was coming. That was the European side of him thinking, though.

His other self knew it was time.

His great grandfather had won the large remote and rural block in a land ballot nearly a century ago. He had travelled by bullock drawn wagon, with a dozen drovers and a hundred head of cattle. Of course, as government men will do, the fertility of the land was extremely over exaggerated.

Still, he had stuck with it. The Irish in him would never back down from a challenge.

For a time, he and the men had lived in canvas tents, battling the flies, heat and primitive conditions. The men had to move the cattle quite a distance every day. The feed was nowhere near as good described. There was no “beasts to the acre”. It was nearly one hundred acres to the beast. Luckily, it was relatively good times, and water was plentiful.

So, his great grandfather, Liam, had prospered.

However, he was lonely. There were aboriginal people on his selection. A few spoke enough English for him to reach an understanding with them. He would let them live as they wished. In exchange, he only asked that they didn’t kill any of his cattle.

If they continue to breed, he would slaughter a beast every few months and share it with them. They could even have the hide after he had cleaned it. Liam had been a proficient leather worker, and wore hand made leather coats against the chill night air.

When they were nearby, he would often take tea and flour over and sit down with the old men. He would tell them stories of old Ireland, translated by the young to the old, and in exchange, the young ones told him some of their stories.

Finally, Liam noticed a lovely young woman, and asked the question.

It cost him three head of cattle, quite a supply of tea, sugar and flour, as well as a few small axes, pots, pans, and knives, and he was a married man.

Some of his drovers got tired of the place and slowly, his work force dwindled. He began to train the aboriginal boys in how to ride and work with the cattle.

Life was good. His bride was pregnant, and his herd was flourishing.

Doctors are few and far between, out in the never-never. Serious illness is often fatal, and you are past help by the time help does arrive. When her child started to come, His wife had her family with her.

Liam was a father to a loud and healthy boy, whom he named Joseph, but his wife died soon after. It was a sad time. Joseph grew up as much with the family of his mother as he did with his father.

A foot in both worlds, as the saying goes.

The rain times finished and the dry times came. His herd did not do so well, but by living miserly, Liam kept his land and paid his debts. Joseph grew up and was taught his letters and numbers by Liam. His writing pad was the dusty ground, and reading was from Liam’s Bible.

A neighbouring property, only a week away by bullock dray, had a family with a few daughters. And they were beautiful. An Afghan immigrant with a French Malaysian wife, and two lovely daughters.

So, eventually Joseph was hitched.

But still, the family kept the connection with the local aborigines.

So, down the line, Jamie had quite a family connection.

He remembered being young and listening to an elder telling the dreaming stories.

Of course, that elder had passed on, and the names of those who had passed on are never spoken.

But one story resonated with Jamie. When all things pass, they pass into the dreaming. Jamie had told Margaret and Jaccs many of the stories, and they often visited the aboriginal settlement. Margaret had been shocked, but accepting, when she saw his initiation scars. The mark of being a man, not a boy, in the eyes of his cousins, many of whom had them too.

The few news outlets still working via the satellites around space told him that that radiation was slowly spreading, and although the treatment was well known, none of the medication was available. It had all been stored in major cities. They had burned like everything else.

So, in spite of many people fleeing to the bush, many had starved anyway. Dried food only lasts while you have it. Living off the bush was a real skill lost to many civilised folks. Jamie was so very isolated that few ever came to his place. No one would have had the fuel for it. Maybe a large coach with big tanks. The government had confiscated most of the fuel anyway.

It was months now, since the weekly mail run had been. Not an essential service, Jamie mused.

Jamie made up his mind.

He went to the elders, and sat with them. In spite of the heat of day, Jamie made a little fire using the traditional skills of making fire with two sticks, and boiled the billy.

The elders waited patiently. Jamie would say what he was going to say, and it would be said. Meanwhile, they had a big billy and lots of black tea and sugar.

Finally, he spoke.

“You all knew my wife and daughter,” he started with. “The nuclear war that came, killed them on the first day. Many millions, maybe billions died that day as well. The radiation sickness may come here, or not. It is hard to say.”

They sat in silence, absorbing these things.

Jamie continued. “I still monitor the few news outlets that still function. The system of things as they were, are failing. No new fuel. Food shortages. Power stations going offline. No shipping. Manufacturing in major cities has stopped. Destroyed or no workers, or power to run them. The white man’s way is dying.”

Thoughtful silence.

He continued. “I am of two peoples. I am of your tribe though my birth line and my connection with the people, but also, my European ancestry.” He withdrew the little golden heart shaped locket.

He knew it would be very bad manners to open it and show them the pictures of the two women inside it that were now dead.

“In this, I have a picture of myself, my wife and daughter. I miss them so very much, and I don’t want to live through what is coming if I have not got them to live and fight for.”

From his other shirt pocket, he withdrew a set of papers. He offered it to the nearest elder, the oldest. The elder took it and opened it. He looked blankly at it. Then looked at Jamie.

“Hold out your hand, please,” Jamie asked. The elder did. Jamie scooped up some of the red dust soil. He said, “A great Australian Prime Minister once did this, when he gave an elder of a certain tribe back their land.” Jamie slowly poured the sand into the open palm.

As he did so, he said, “This land is your land, and always has been, but in the white man’s way, I have signed it over to you. Tomorrow, I will make a journey, and I will never see you again, except maybe in the Dreaming.”

The elder looked at the paper, and was thoughtful. Then he spoke.

“This is a nice thing you do, Jamie. But you already knew it was always our land. Your family has never tried to push us away from it, and you have always behaved respectfully to us. The land owns us, and we are part of it. The white man is like fleas fighting over the dog that they feed off.”

“Yes,” replied Jamie, “There is a certain comic stupidity to the situation. Now, they will die off in droves, not knowing how to live with the land. It may come down to making sure the young ones know all the old skills. The people may walk this land as if in olden times, speaking the old words and living the way they once did.”

Jamie left them.

Tonight, there would be a corrobboree.

Jamie felt relieved of a burden when he went home. His last act was a good deed.

It was a hard days walk to the sacred place he was going to. He drove half the way. He parked, leaving the keys in the old four-wheel drive. Whoever found it could have it.

He took a back pack with a good supply of water and started walking. He drank sparingly of the water. It was dry and hilly where he was headed. He had a purpose for the water.

At a certain point, he stopped and undressed. He drank heavily of the water in the back pack. Symbolically, he cleansed himself.

He would go naked and barefoot to the most sacred place. He knew the location but had never been, or told anyone else where it was. He only took two items with him as he went.

Another hour, and he was near the place. He sang a few of the ancient words he knew, to let the spirits know he was friendly. The spirits would let the elders know of his visit.

Then, near a sacred place of old rock paintings, he sat, watching the sun slowly sink. Birdsong filled the air. It was so beautiful. Peace settled on him.

Jamie opened the little golden heart shaped locket, and smiled at the picture within.

The other item was a paper bag with all the sleeping medication he had ever had.

He closed the locket, and swallowed all the tablets, regretting he had not kept a little water with him. He scraped at the soil and buried the paper as deep as he could, as he felt drowsiness coming.

Jamie kissed the locket, lay down with his hand on the locket near his heart, and passed into the Dreaming. Into time without time. The End of Time.