Pawliday Love

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

MCKENZIE

I t amazes me how a lazy Sunday hanging out with the folks, can turn on its head with one beep of a pager.

Beep, beep, beep.

I groan as I pull the pager from my pocket, while at the same time, I pick my cell phone up off the table. Multi-skilling, I check the pager whilst hitting speed dial on my phone.

“Talk to me,” I mutter.

“Sorry to spoil your day off, Kenz, but we got a situation,” my SES level five brother, Matty spouts down the phone line. “The levee bank broke. We’re going to have to start evacuating.”

I scratch the back of my neck as it prickles, before sighing. “Shit.” We worked around the clock to bulk up that levee bank. “Is it that bad?”

“The caravan park on the edge of town is going under as we speak,” Matty knows once the bank is weakened in one place, the bags will drop like dominos.

“On my way,” I quip before hanging up.

Matty doesn’t panic, that’s why he’s my second in charge. Once the water knocks down enough sandbags, it’s a matter of time before houses start going under. This is the biggest natural disaster we’ve had since the fires two years ago where many people lost their lives.

A vision of bodies melted together in death while trying to protect a newborn baby runs through my head. I know a flood is different from the huge fires, but once you see things like we did when we went in after the firefighters, you can’t unsee them.

Mum wants me to seek counseling, but she doesn’t understand. If it gets around that I went to see a counsellor, people might feel they can’t trust me to do my job. Dad understands and I appreciate it.

Striding over to where Mum stands on the bottom step, a frown on her face already, I kiss her temple before whispering in her ear. “Sorry, Ma. Gotta go.”

Dad walks me out to the ute, where my go bag already sits on the passenger seat.

“How bad is it?” He asks as I open the ute door and slide inside.

“As bad as it can get,” I answer honestly. Dad was a member of the local fire brigade as a volunteer until he retired a few years ago. “The levee bank has given way. You and mum got your EEP, emergency evacuation plan , ready? Get prepped to leave, or you might not have the chance to escape.”

“We’ll be fine son; don’t you worry about us.” Dad steps back, his arms crossed over his chest.

I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t taken the time to interact with him as much lately, but it’s in this moment I notice how much weight he’s dropped. He’s lost muscle from not working, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes are more prominent and his hair is almost white. When did all this happen? Dad’s always been the rock in the family. The man I look up to and idolize.

When this crisis is done with, I need to sit down with him and figure out what’s going on.

Giving him a quick wave, I hit the accelerator. As I’m about to turn the corner I look in the rear-view mirror to find Dad still in the same place, watching me.

When I pull up next to Matty’s black and chrome Harley Davidson Low-Rider, I count how many of the crew are here. Damo steps up beside me as I assess the situation.

I call everyone over to the front of the first emergency truck, spreading a map out across the bonnet. My team and I have been together for a while now. We’re the Storm & Tempest team in the area, and we work like a well-oiled wheel, quickly, quietly, and methodically.

As the saying goes, this is not our first rodeo.

My phone buzzes with messages and when I check it, I find other SES members and volunteers are on their way to back us up.

Once everything is sorted and everyone has a clear understanding of what’s needed from them, we set to work. I follow Matty on his bike to our headquarters so he can lock up his bike, and then we head to the broken levee bank. The water’s flowing through faster than we can pump it out, so I order the men to stop. The pumps are pulled out and tossed into the bed of the truck they’re in. We have a quick meeting about what happened.

It seems a team of panicking horses scrambled over the wall to escape the water, knocking bags loose with their hooves as they hauled their weight up and over the levee, attempting to make it to dry land. They’ll be fine for now. Someone will catch them later and contain them for their safety.

The decision is made to abandon the caravan park, it can’t be saved now. Thankfully everyone has already left, just in case this very thing happened. I feel bad for the owners of the cabins and caravans being overrun with floodwater, but things are replaceable. Lives aren’t.

Before we leave, we check that no one has been left behind. Sometimes the elderly can be stubborn about leaving their homes. Once we’re satisfied, we meet up at the ute and leave.

One of our volunteers suggests using diggers to attempt setting up a new levee bank closer to town. It’s a great idea, so I set him and a few of his buddies the task of doing that. They all know how to handle heavy machinery because that’s their day-to-day paying jobs.

Volunteers are out in full force, and it makes me proud to see how everyone comes together to help.

A bus has been commissioned to take the caravan park evacuees to safe havens at the local sports clubs. Meanwhile, the CWA is making sandwiches to feed everyone. It’s the fastest food to put together.

Beggars can’t be choosers, as Mum says.

Firemen and medical people are evacuating the elderly and hospital patients who can’t look out for themselves, taking some to shelters on higher ground. Those who need constant treatment have been evacuated to hospitals further away.

Police are door-knocking, making sure no one in the path of the water is left behind.

It makes me proud of my hometown to see how everyone comes together in an emergency. At the same time, it saddens me that the flood is happening. This is what happens when government idiots in their offices thousands of kilometres away, think they know best, rerouting waterways for the use of the rich mining companies and such.

The blame game is all well and good, but today is not the place or time.

I check in with the guys working with the heavy machinery, FaceTiming them so I can see what progress they’ve made. The secondary levee bank aims to keep the historical central part of town from going under. Some of the buildings are a hundred or more years old. That makes them a priority.

If I could save the entire town, I would, but I have to accept that I can’t. Not this time at least.

A message on my phone breaks my reverie. It’s mum, so I dial her back. “Yeah, Mum. What’s up?”

“Your father’s outside building a levee bank around the house. I’ve told him it’s too late, but he won’t listen to me. He keeps telling me if I want to leave, then go, but he’s staying.” I don’t have to see my mother’s face to know she’s crying. When Dad digs his heels in, there’s not much chance of changing it.

I guess we clash a lot because we’re so much alike.

Mum hangs up after I promise to go and have a talk with Dad to see if I can change the stubborn mule’s mind. It’s not as if I don’t have enough issues to deal with today.

On the way to my parents' house, I call Matty to let him know what’s going on. He assures me that he’ll keep on top of things until I get back.

When I arrive, I can see Dad on the tractor. He’s got the tractor blade hooked up and he’s already scraped up enough dirt to make a small bank. Leaving my ute on the side of the road, I approach him on foot. He sees me and slows down enough for me to climb up on the tractor next to him. I have many memories of sitting here while Dad drove, teaching me things a farmer needs to know. He was probably disappointed when I told him I didn’t want to be a full-time farmer. Although he didn’t say so, I could see it in the way his shoulders dropped, and his face went void of emotion.

“Dad, it’s too late,” I shout to be heard over the old tractor. “You and Mum need to evacuate.” I attempt to guilt him. “Mum wants to go, but she won’t leave without you.”

“You’re the hotshot in charge of everything. Take your mother, but I’m staying here. Someone has to take care of the place,” He shouts, as he avoids looking at me.

“No,” I shout, my jaw locked with anger. Doesn’t he know I’m doing this because I don’t want to lose either of them? It’s not just because I’m trying to butt heads with him. “You both need to leave, now.”

My phone buzzes so I tap my earbud and answer. “Yep?”

Matty fills me in on another emergency. He can’t get away to help, so it will have to be me. We’re stretched to the limit trying to save as many homes and businesses as we can without losing any lives.

“Dad. I’m needed elsewhere. All the emergency people are stretched as far as they can be. You being stubborn means I won’t be able to concentrate on anything else, while I worry about you.” I attempt to guilt him into it. “And Mum said if you don’t go, neither will she. Can you stop being pains in my arse right now and just get in the bloody car and go?” I didn’t want to get angry, but he’s being selfish.

Finally, he turns off the tractor motor and climbs down, grunting as he does. I remember the days when he would jump off the tractor like it was nothing to him.

Dad strides towards the house without a word, while I follow behind. He steps inside the back door and calls for Mum. “Ceely, get whatever shit you want to save and get in the car. We’re goin’.” He turns and walks back down the steps and over to his beat-up old dual-cab, Holden ute.

Mum appears at the hallway entrance with two small suitcases, tears in her eyes as she glances around her kitchen and living room as if trying to memorise her home.

I hate that everything they’ve worked for, everything I grew up with, could be gone soon. But I’d rather replace the house and furniture than lose my parents.

I take Mum’s suitcases from her as she follows me to Dad’s car. He’s sitting behind the wheel with the motor running as I toss the bags in the back seat, before helping Mum get in the passenger side. I close the door as Mum pulls at her seatbelt. I know she’s trying not to cry. Dad hates it when she cries.

“It’ll be okay, Mum,” I attempt to reassure her before glancing at my father. “Thanks, Dad. I’d rather help you repair the damage than not have either of you here to be able to help.” My voice breaks at the thought of not having them around.

Dad lets out a whistle and his two kelpies, Katy and Jack, come racing towards the duel cab, jumping through the open back window without breaking their stride.

Dad nods over at me. “See you at the shelter, son.”

With that comment, he backs out of the driveway, turns the wheel to head for the road, and drives away. As they get further from me, I feel a giant weight of relief lift off my shoulders.

The phone call from Matty was regarding a woman named Brenda. She’s a bit of an enigma around town. No one knows exactly when she showed up in the area, and no one knows much about her. She keeps to herself, living in an old, abandoned farmhouse with her animals.

When the old man who owned the house passed away, it sat untouched for many years until Brenda showed up.

She might not have time for humans, but she works magic with sick and injured animals I’m told. The locals are grateful for her because the closest vet is in the next town. Everyone in town knows that if they find an injured animal or one they want to be rid of, they take it to her.

She also keeps chooks and often sells her eggs to the local supermarket. There are times when Brenda also has fresh veggies for sale. She bags and tags them and leaves them at her gateway where people buy the products using the honour system. She has a box welded to the gatepost where people are trusted to pay for her goods.

As you can imagine, someone of Brenda’s mystical appearance has our small-town rumour mongers running rampant.

According to Matty, Brenda has no cell phone, and her gates are chained and padlocked. No one has been able to warn her of the water coming her way.

Now I’ve got Dad and Mum heading to safety, I have to get to her before the water does. This will be interesting, considering we’ve never spoken to one another. I’ve often passed her in at the shops, but her eyes never lift from the ground, so I don’t know what she looks like, other than she wears baggy clothes and a black baseball cap.

I pull up at the first set of gates, not in the least bit surprised that the gate is chained and padlocked. Sighing heavily, I pull a pair of bolt cutters from the back of my ute. Thankfully, in this situation, I’m within my legal rights as head of the emergency services, in this area, to cut the padlock, which I do.

Opening the gate, I drive through, closing the gate behind me until I come upon another padlocked gate. What is this sheila afraid of, I wonder?

After cutting through three padlocks, I finally pull up next to the dilapidated house. If you can call it that. The weatherboards are dry and cracked, with most of the paint gone. A tree at the side of the house has fallen onto part of the building. I can see at least two broken windows, and the railing that used to run around the entire house has fallen off in many places.

The steps creak as I put my weight on them, and the veranda has a few planks missing, so I try to tread carefully. I certainly don’t need to fall through and break my ankle. Or a leg.

“Hello?” I call through the old screen door. “Anyone here?”

I didn’t see a vehicle of any kind when I pulled up. Perhaps Brenda has already left. I’m about to knock when I hear a distinct click behind me.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

Turning slowly, while keeping my hands where they can be seen, goosebumps spread the length of my body as I take in the slight woman at the other end of the double-barrel shotgun she has pointed at me. Holding the gun is a pixie of a young woman, her dark hair cut short, her big green doe eyes glued to mine. The oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants hide her shape. There’s a pair of cheap thongs on her feet.

Her hand is steady, her voice hard, as she repeats herself. “Who are you and what do you want? I won’t ask again.”

“I’m McKenzie Tatum, head of the state emergency services in this area. I came out to warn you that the levee bank has been breached and there’s a shit ton of water headed this way.” I lower my hands as I talk, noticing that Brenda watches every movement I make. “You have to evacuate, Miss…” I leave the option open for her to tell me her surname.

“Brenda. My name is Brenda,” the woman snaps. “And I won’t be leaving.”

“Ma’am,” I sigh, before attempting to be authoritative. “If you won’t leave of your own choice, I’ll have to–,” I freeze as she waves the shotgun at me.