137 Dirty Dancing

"Goddamit," said Sean. "Do we have much farther to go? It's bloody hot."

"Another fifteen minutes or so," said Dave. "We're getting close."

"You said so half an hour ago."

"I'm sorry," said Dave. "It's easy to miscalculate distance when you always drove there in a car."

"Why didn't you get yourself a bicycle, Dad? Why didn't you have one, in the first place? It's good exercise."

"I prefer to walk. Walking is better exercise than riding a bike. We tried to buy bicycles when it became apparent our car was immobilized for good. But we couldn't. We offered a thousand dollars to a fella who had two, and he laughed at us. Told us there were five people engaged in a bidding war for his spare bike, and that the top bid was four thousand dollars."

"That's not much."

"What?!"

"They were selling for up to ten thousand dollars down in Melbourne."

"That's insane."

"Well, these are crazy times."

"Let's take a break," said Maureen. "Jessica is exhausted."

Dave stopped and looked at his granddaughter. Her sweating face was red; she was in poor shape. She was only fifteen, and much weaker than her older brother, who actually seemed to be enjoying the trip: he was a good twenty paces ahead of everyone else.

"Jason!" called out Sean. "Stop. Jessica needs a rest."

Jason sauntered up to their group, lips twisted in a wicked little smile.

"You're such a wombat," he told his sister.

Jessica started crying.

"Jesus," Dave said under his breath. He caught Susan's eye and they moved a few steps away from the others.

"This is turning out more difficult than I thought," he told her.

"I wish Henry had more sense," she said. "What's the point of launching from a different spot when we're going to join the Pendeltons anyway?"

"I have no idea. He probably got orders from above to disperse people, so that every settlement has room to expand."

"But he knew we're in this together with the Pendeltons. You said yourself he was pleased that he'll have a vacant colony site."

"He issued two licenses. Most likely the way it works, it's one license per site. He has to report to the regional governor, and show that he's following the rules. If a site becomes vacant later, that's another story."

"It's stupid. And all this playacting is stupid, too. Walking all the way there and back just for the sake of appearances."

"Let's just get it over with," said Dave. "In a couple of hours we'll be back home, implant Sean and the rest, and we'll be done."

"Hey," Sean called. "What are you up to over there? Let's get going, shall we?"

They got going, but didn't get very far before Jason - who was ahead of the others, as usual - stopped and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and stared hard at something.

"Isn't that the spot we're supposed to launch from?"

"Almost," said Dave. "We're supposed to launch where the road meets the beach, just a bit further on. Who did you see?"

"How the hell could I know? I saw this fella and he saw me and dived into the trees."

"He's probably Henry's man," Dave said. "Sent there to make sure we do what we're supposed to do."

"Dad, your implant's showing," said Sean.

"Damn. It's the sweat. Susan, can you do your magic?"

"I didn't bring my makeup case," Susan said.

"Oh damn."

"Put on your cap," Sean said.

"I'll sweat even more with it on," said Dave.

"Well, your implant is showing anyway. The damage is done."

Dave reluctantly put on his golfing cap.

"Looks okay?" he asked.

"Yes. Let's go."

They hadn't walked more than a hundred paces when four men emerged from the trees on the right side of the road. One of them was smiling, the other three were grim, and they all looked rough. They were all wearing long bush jackets, which was odd considering the heat.

"G'day," the smiling man said. "What are you up to, mates? Out for a little stroll?"

They all stopped and looked at the four men approach and saw them reach into their pockets.

"Fuck me dead," Jason said. "They've got bicycle chains."

"Susan, Maureen, Jessica, move to the back," Dave snapped. "And get ready to run."

The smiling man was already just a few paces away, and he stopped smiling when he heard that.

"There's no use running, duckies," he said. "We'll catch you quick. What have you got in that bag?"

"In here?" said Sean, lifting the canvas bag he was carrying. "Nothing much. Just some water."

It was only partially true. Apart from a couple of bottles of water, the bag contained the implant kits they'd brought, just in case Henry Deacon did send someone to Yule Point to check on them.

"That's good," said the leader of the four men. "Because me and my mates are all thirsty. You'll share it with us, won't you?"

"Fuck you," said Jason, and Dave saw his hands clench into fists.

"Jason," he said in a warning tone, but it was too late.

"You got it wrong," the leader of the four men said to Jason. "You're the one that's about to get fucked."

He took two quick steps forward and swung his arm. The bicycle chain unfurled from his hand and hissed through the air. But Jason's rugby training paid off: he ducked, then sprang forward and hit the man's jaw with an uppercut that almost lifted him off the ground.

All hell broke loose. The hit man's three companions jumped forward, chains swinging. Dave caught a crack on the side of his head that dazed him. Before he could recover, a savage kick to his knee brought him down, shouting with pain.

Sean and Jason did better. Sean wasn't a rugby player, but as an orthopedic surgeon he took care to stay in good shape. He worked out in a gym twice a week, and squeezed a couple of steel ball bearings whenever he watched TV to keep his fingers strong. He even attended karate classes for a while, getting as far as a blue belt.

But no amount of training can beat experience. A bartender with scar tissue covering his knuckles will defeat a black belt in karate who has never been in a real fight. Because a real fight is not about fancy killer moves; a real fight is all about hitting the opponent first, hitting him so hard he cannot hit back.

Sean was out of the fight very quickly. Jason did better; he ducked a couple of blows, and managed to land a few of his own. But two of the men converged on him and things would have ended badly if it wasn't for Dave, who called out hoarsely:

"Stop. For heaven's sake, stop. We'll give you everything we've got. Stop!"

A few kilometers away, Harold was also calling:

"Stop. For heaven's sake stop! You're killing me."

Harold was in real danger of dying from laughter. It was caused by the sight of his old wife prancing around, yelling and whooping as if possessed.

The reason for this behavior lay buried in a pile of dirt mixed with gravel that was lying on the ground next to the fireplace. There were specks of shiny yellow here and there in the pile.

Gladys had gone to collect water that morning from a nearby stream that had cut a gash in the ground. When she stepped onto the small overhang that had formed over the running water, it suddenly broke away. She fell into the stream and banged her elbow on a stone and sat still for a while, rubbing the painful spot and cursing under her breath. And as she sat there, she saw the stream wash away the soil that had fallen into the water, leaving several bright yellow flecks.

She picked one and held it close to her eyes. It was no bigger than an apple seed. She tentatively put it between her front teeth and squeezed. It was metal. It was soft.

It was gold.

She picked the remaining tiny nuggets out of the water. Then she scooped several handfuls of gravel from the bank of the stream, and sifted them through her fingers. She was rewarded with three more tiny gold grains.

She took off her clothes and fashioned them into a crude sack and filled the sack with soil and gravel from the bank of the stream. Then she ran back to the settlement.

Harold was full of doubt.

"It might be fool's gold," he said. "I don't know enough about minerals to tell. But I have an idea."

He dropped a couple of the gold grains onto one of the stones surrounding the fireplace and pushed the stone into the fire.

Within a few moments, the tiny grains began to melt.

"Good God," Harold said. "Gladys, this looks like gold. You've found gold!"

They both started laughing, but laughter simply wasn't enough to express the joy both felt. They both started dancing around the fireplace. Harold caught a stitch in his side, but Gladys carried on as if she were seventeen instead of seventy.

When she was too exhausted to continue, they both sat down side by side and began picking through the gravel and the dirt.

"I can't wait to see the look on Dave's face when I show him that," Harold said.

"Don't do it without me," said Gladys. "I want so see the look on his face, too."

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