Don't Look Back (Warders of Earth) Read online

  I’m trapped.

  And that realisation made it even more imperative that I gained legit qualifications. Once I had some decent money coming in I could pay for a carer to ‘baby-sit’ her. Take her somewhere better than this one-horse town, a town where she’d have access to proper medical treatment. Maybe even some kind of live-in, half-way house where she could be both treated and looked after.

  Then, maybe, I’d be free to live my life.

  A dull pain pounded at the base of my temple. Shame swept over me. I’m so selfish. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family; I did. But freedom tempted me. Freedom and fun. Clubbing, parties, dances, dating; all those and more lured me stronger than any addiction.

  And it wasn’t as if I’d be gone forever. I just wanted a taste of the life every other twenty year old chick lived.

  I ducked my gaze and drew another glass of water then sculled it.

  And all the while, my mother stood in the doorway smiling serenely as if there was nothing wrong.

  “Where’s Dan?” I asked, setting the glass down again.

  “Setting up for our tai chi session and I intend to do some deep meditation this afternoon. Why don’t you join us, honey?”

  “I’ve got work plus I need to study.”

  “Tara, please, forget this schooling business.” Mum threw her hands in the air, clearly exasperated.

  I know exactly how she feels. I leaned back against the kitchen sink and glared across the room.

  “Well, if you don’t intend to join us, you may as well clean up that mess. Oh and by the way?” About to leave the room, my mother turned and added, “I’m pulling Daniel out of school.”

  “What?”

  Mum nodded.

  “Are you serious? He’s brilliant. No, he’s more than brilliant. He’ll probably be the best astro physicist on the planet and you want him to leave school?”

  “Exactly, that’s the reason why he must leave. He’ll continue his studies from home from now on. Now, Tara, I expect you to respect my decision.” My mother’s pale blue eyes turned to steel. “He’s my son and I need him here.”

  If only I knew the right words to say, how to handle her strange ideas, how to make her better. I tried again for reason. “I understand you believe that, Mum, but nothing is going to happen. You’ve got to get your paranoia under control.”

  “If only that were true. Too many events lately have indicated to me that matters are more serious than I first thought. At any moment, we could be faced with an event that will signal the end of all life as we know it.”

  “Seriously? Do you really believe a bunch of terrorists are going to stalk into our town? Out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

  “I realise that there are no shopping centres within a reasonable travelling distance that constitutes your idea of civilisation, Tara, but we only live two hours drive from Canberra. And surely you’re not forgetting that our town is home to a large air-force base plus the new Airborne Early Warning System scheduled for completion in three month’s time? A logical target wouldn’t you agree? If it ends up being as simple as terrorists, I, for one, will be thankful.”

  I flicked my fringe out of my eyes. “I think you’re talking a load of rubbish.”

  “I’m only concerned for both of you. Do stop arguing, Tara. If you don’t hurry, you’ll be late for work.”

  The next moment, I found myself staring at the empty doorway listening to the sound of my mother humming as she walked down the hall.

  Jaw clenched, I rinsed the floor cloth under the tap and gazed out the window. Oh, if only I had a normal family. Normal parents who actually lived together, a decent house, better clothes, a brain that worked like other people’s.

  I’d always dismissed my mother’s wild flights of fancy as crackpot, paranoia, the product of an illness that appeared to grow stronger with each passing year.

  Or perhaps caused by my parents’ divorce when I was sixteen, two years after we moved to this town. I’d always considered Dan and myself to be lucky; there hadn’t been any major fighting or any lasting bitterness. Although, when our parents did spend time together it seemed all they could do was bicker or conduct heated discussions in whispers when they thought there was no one listening.

  Soon after our parents split, the knowledge had filtered through that Dad suffered from depression and had turned to drugs to combat his illness, consequently losing his job.

  My stomach cramped. Another set of problems I had no idea how to fix. I’d never taken sides, never considered the divorce was anyone’s fault in particular. In fact, I’d often felt guilty that I’d been unable to give Dad the help he’d needed, that I rarely saw him now.

  If I’d noticed his illness earlier, if I’d been more supportive, maybe my parents would still be together.

  At first, we’d struggled as a family trying to cope and give support to Dad but it hadn’t worked. It was if he didn’t want our help or was too ashamed. The next thing we knew he’d joined a bikie gang and moved to another town. He’d grown his hair, embraced body piercing, and now survived on what he earned scrubbing the same floors he’d once walked as a scientist.

  Mum had filled her days and nights with drilling Dan and me on survivalist training, enrolling us in more self-defence classes and seemed obsessed with prophesies of doom.

  Some days it just felt so hard.

  Better to day-dream of a job in the city, by the ocean, complete with lots of trendy bars and heaps of clothing stores, the opportunity to meet guys who could talk of something other than the drought and sheep.

  A girl needs her dreams even if they were impossible to achieve.

  Take it one step at a time, a favourite saying of Dad’s.

  I plucked two paracetamol tablets from their packet and chased them down with another glass of water. From the living room, came the chiming of recorded bells, as Mum and Dan practised their ritual stretching before beginning an hour of meditation.

  Closing my ears to the sound, I ran a hand over my straight hair. I was glad now that Mum had suggested a few years ago, I try a short haircut. The bob was so easy to look after. No more braiding or spending hours drying it.

  Although Mum’s attitude had been more towards easier to take care of once the shit hits the fan and we had to forage to survive.

  Despite my concern, I couldn’t help grinning as I picked up my backpack and went to my room. I had to admit, my mother never backed down. I threw my bag onto my bed and hurried to the bathroom where I had a super quick shower. Returning to my room I dressed in another loose tee-shirt, this one bright orange, and fresh denim jeans and hauled on clean socks. I ran a brush through my hair, applied some dark-brown mascara and a swipe of coral lipstick. One last quick glance in the mottled mirror on my dresser and I was ready.

  My room was stifling. I flapped a hand uselessly in front of my face while I cast a critical eye over my bedroom. No breeze shifted the thin lace curtains of the open window. The lack of furnishings made my room feel over-large but I liked it that way. I took a moment to admire the opulent purple walls, the second-hand double bed covered with a crocheted throw rug of multiple sapphire blue, emerald green, crimson and gold squares. I’d made the rug myself last winter and was pleased with the exotic slant it gave off. The furniture may have been old and battered but it gleamed from regular polishing.

  And better still, Mum owned our home outright.

  It should have given me a sense of security but it didn’t; where had she found the money?

  Pinching the bridge of my nose where the pressure had eased to a dull throb, I sighed. What I wouldn’t give to have a normal life.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pulled on my just-purchased-last-week, knee high, four-inch heel, black leather boots (and hell to walk in but what girl in her right mind could resist?). They’d cost me my entire pay packet but they were worth it. Wearing them, made me feel I could take on the world.

  Hurrying along the hallway to the back of the house I pu
shed open the screen-door that led onto a small porch with three steps down into the massive back-yard. Grabbing the rail with one hand, I swung over and jumped to the ground. So much quicker than walking down some stupid steps. Lengthening my stride, I crossed the short patch of grass so dry, it crackled beneath my feet. A stark reminder of how long the current drought had lasted.

  At the very end of the quarter acre allotment lay the vegetable gardens in rough regimented rows. For like, forever, Mum had insisted we grow as much of our food as possible. Every seed was retained and carefully packed away in row after row of airtight containers (mainly used jam jars or old cookie tins) and stored under the house. Beneath the shade of a mature mulberry tree, a rickety structure of corrugated iron and wire in one corner sheltered the hens from roving foxes at night. Their contented clucking as they pecked over the ground soothed some of the tension stiffening my shoulders.

  Heat from the sun belted down; the air thick with no breeze to bring any relief. Rays from the late afternoon sun burnt through the thin cotton of my tee-shirt stinging my shoulders and bare skin as I strode down the gravel path beside the house and out the back gate. A short cut, which would delete an entire block from my walk and make the trip to the main street so much faster.

  I hastened down another residential street, crossed a tarred road and hit the concrete pavement almost at a run. I checked the time on my mobile. Shit, I should have been there by now.

  I started to jog while my mind zeroed onto the subject that worried me every day. What I couldn’t understand was how Mum could function fine with everyday life and still go off on her wild tangents. She worked at the new supermarket on the check-outs most days and often sat up until the early hours of the morning writing articles for ezines on self-sufficiency, herbal treatments and remedies. It made it difficult to understand why she was so fixated on her crazy ideas and paranoia.

  If it were anyone else but Mum, I’d be looking into drugs or heavy drinking but Mum never touched either.

  One more corner and I hit Main Street which hummed and buzzed with life.

  Kids on scooters shrieked and sped down the footpath. Harassed mothers pushed prams or bustled past with bulging carry bags in their hands. A ute cruised past, an excited blue heeler barking hysterically from where the dog sat on top of bales of hay in the back.

  Quite a few of the shops were boarded up since the advent of the one and only supermarket, which had been built on a vacant block on the edge of town. But a few die-hard determined folk clung to their livelihood eking out a living from loyal customers.

  On the next corner squatted the pub. The triple-story building towered over its neighbouring shops and even though times were hard in small rural communities it did a roaring trade.

  Glad to be out of the heat, I stepped into the shade provided by the wide verandah that extended the width of the footpath and wrapped around two sides of the hotel. Wine barrels filled with flowering hibiscus shrubs were lined up against the walls and provided a softening effect against the old bricks.

  I made a mental note to water the plants before I left that night as I pushed through the batwing doors and into the main bar. The clinks and bells of the pinball machines and the ribaldry of a group of men playing pool greeted me. The stink of stale beer combined with frying food filled my nostrils. My stomach growled. No time to grab something to eat. My shift had started ten minutes ago. No one paid any attention as I hauled my arse up onto the bar that spanned the length of the room. I swung my legs over and jumped down to the other side.

  A grime-stained farmer in a dusty Akubra and sun-faded clothes shambled up to the bar.

  “What’ll it be?” I smiled. Time to earn my pay.

  Chapter 2 – WARDER

  Several hours later, I cast a swift glance at the old railway clock nailed to the opposite wall. A quarter to ten. Thank heavens, fifteen minutes to closing time. I flexed my aching feet inside my boots that felt as if they’d shrunk at least one size from all my running up and down fixing drinks, serving food, removing glasses and used dinner plates and picking up chairs. I was knackered. And those boots were definitely not work material.

  Yawning, my gaze tracked to the door when a group of laughing people strolled inside. I froze. I knew most of this lot. Several were from my old high school and who should push to the forefront to sashay up to the bar a big Cheshire cat smile on her face, but Crystal.

  Wait for it.

  After pausing to eye me up and down, Crystal indicated her equally well-dressed friends. “Drinks all round, Tara. We’ll have martinis. That is of course, if you know how to make them. Oh, and make sure you use clean glasses. We wouldn’t want to catch anything.”

  Longing to flick the tea towel I’d draped over one shoulder into Crystal’s face, I snapped my mouth shut and reached for the glasses under the counter.

  “Make mine a beer thanks.”

  Quiet even tones, distinctly male.

  The hairs at the back of my neck prickled. I glanced up to meet a pair of ice grey eyes in a smoothly handsome face. My mouth dried.

  His bad-boy aura made him appear older than what I suspected him to be; maybe two years older than my twenty. Three tops.

  He leaned on the counter, hands clasped lightly together, his posture beautifully showcasing bulging forearms and wide shoulders. Even better, he wasn’t overly tall, maybe five foot ten or a tad over. I’d briefly dated a basketball player and had suffered cricks in my neck from looking up at him the whole two weeks we’d been together.

  There was a tattoo on his upper left arm but it was hard for me to make out the pattern in the dim lighting. (I had a weakness for tattoos, they were on my ‘bucket’ list.) Anyway, I was too busy checking out the rest of him to care. Dressed in a tight black, v-neck tee and faded blue jeans and with slicked back blond hair and a day-old stubble lining a jaw any model would have given their left lung for, he looked like every girl’s dream come true.

  Lean, mean and screaming city-tough, I wondered what on earth had brought him to a place so obviously way off his radar.

  The expression in his eyes was cool, considering, as he locked glances with me for a long sixty seconds.

  Words tangled in my throat.

  Then he broke contact, straightened and half-turned to send a slow smile at Crystal who had plastered her bone-thin body clad in a white micro dress up against his back.

  “Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Crystal purred, rubbing against him and tossing back her long, salon-blonde hair.

  Clamping my lips together so I wouldn’t give into my longing to cut her down, I quickly attended to the drinks order. I poured the beer last and pushed the laden tray towards them.

  “Card or cash?” I held out my hand.

  Crystal rolled her eyes. “Plastic of course.” In a theatrical gesture she proffered her credit card.

  “Keep it, this one’s on me,” said the stranger digging into his pants pocket to retrieve his wallet which he flipped open and picked out a fifty dollar bill.

  “Isn’t Alex wonderful? We met on the station platform this morning when I was waiting for a package for Daddy. We hit it off immediately.” Crystal returned her card to her eensy clutch, closing it with a snap.

  “Good on ya, mate. Cheers.” Kevin Brewster grabbed a glass off the tray.

  Oh wonderful. Kevin and I had had a brief ‘thing’ last winter until I’d broken it off. The guy did nothing but smoke weed.

  He raised his glass high. Liquid sloshed over the side. A few drops splattered onto Crystal’s bare skin and she squealed.

  Ignoring Crystal, Kevin added, “Hey, Tara, how’s it going? Haven’t seen ya since school.”

  “I’ve been busy.” Avoiding Kevin’s spaced-out, red-rimmed eyes, I opened the cash register then placed the change onto the calculator. I couldn’t ‘read’ maths sums and equations but I was a wizard at arithmetic in my head and provided I didn’t have to write anything down. Picking up an already clean glass, I polished it with the tea towel. />
  “Yes, growing vegetables and pouring drinks makes for such a hectic life,” Crystal snickered. She ran a hand down the newcomer’s arm and fluttering her lashes, cooed, “Alex and his father have moved here from the city. I intend to make certain they receive the best possible welcome.”

  “I bet,” I smirked.

  The guy, Alex, swept that calm appraisal over me once more.

  I raised my chin and stared back.

  His lips tilted at the corner in a mocking smile and he turned his back, leaning against the bar while he lowered his head to murmur something in a low voice to Crystal.

  My gaze immediately zeroed onto the tattoo on the back of his neck, easily seen since the guy wore his hair cut military short.

  My heart hiccupped.

  Goose-bumps rose on my skin as coldness flashed like an icy wind over me.

  What to others might appear as a random squiggle of lines and squares in something that resembled an Aztec drawing, I saw a word;

  WARDER.

  Mum had mentioned the word, Warder.

  Another coincidence?

  The glass slipped from my hand and smashed onto the floor, showering splinters over the sticky tiles.

  The guy spun round, narrowed eyed and pinned me where I stood with the intensity of his stare.

  Move.

  Act natural.

  The words hammered into my brain. Feeling as if I lacked control over my muscles, I forced myself to crouch and retrieve the glass fragments. Hands trembling I cleaned up the mess and placed the remains into a bin.

  Holding my breath, I straightened.

  Looked around.

  But the guy was gone.

  ***

  Alex

  Changing down to second gear, I turned off the road and my car glided to a stop in the wide concrete parking lot outside the new mechanic’s shop. I switched off the engine. In the sudden silence, the sounds of the night floated through the open window, the soft rustling of leaves and the creak of branches as a light breeze sighed across the land.

  The muscle at the corner of my right eye twitched. A soldier had no right feeling lonely; not when the stakes were so staggeringly high. I had a job to do.