October 2021: On the Horizon - Karen Payne
He reached down and grasped her outstretched hand, hauling her up the final difficult slope to sit beside him on a flat rock they had found on a previous climb. Her older brother was already at the summit, powering ahead of them in a display of teenage athleticism that was lost on his young sister, but given an admiring nod by their father.
The young man smiled and stood tall, waving away a position on the rock to complete a full circle observation of the surrounding country, stretched out in front of them in glorious validation of nature’s ability to regenerate. Tall eucalypts together in clumps, their roots protected by undergrowth, gave way to plains covered in grasses, interrupted by lakes and rivers. On the western side, green gradually faded to brown as the mountain range diverted the coastal rains away from the inland. The wildlife, unfettered by fences, roamed free to multiply.
“Look over there, Dad! Huge roo mob. Amazing they are here after…..” His words trailed off into silence, as if allowing them volume and space might reignite the horrors that had decimated the countryside.
“Keep away from the edge, little one. Sit by me.”
She smiled and took his hand, snuggled close and whispered. “I saw emu chicks, Dad. Down at the bottom of the cliff. And the waterhole is back. It wasn’t there last time.”
The modelling had been right at first, but as time passed it became obvious that interpreting the data had become more of a wild guess than considered scientific opinion. Unpredictable became a meaningless word in a world where nature took control, trying to restore the planet to some sort of equilibrium. It seemed that every weather event was of disastrous proportions. Hailstones killed every living thing not sheltered, rain in sheets never experienced became torrents that swept away cities in an instant, snow and ice buried everything, years of nothing but scorching heat and fire, merciless in its ability to find and burn anything left untouched.
Then, finally some relief. Weather patterns began normalising, governments set about rebuilding their countries and economies, survivors hoped it was all over and a new future beckoned. But old rivalries also emerged.
He looked at his children, marvelling that they seemed unscathed by their unconventional childhood. As the eldest, his son had experienced things no young person should have to deal with, but he had understood and adapted to the situation. They loved coming up here, and the father loved watching them as they experienced the regeneration in real time.
The device signalled and he answered. “What! Idiots! Already? Yeah, understood. Coming now.” He struggled to keep himself together.
A quick scan of the horizon confirmed the message. Strange clouds appeared, first small then growing taller and spreading, all consuming.
“Time to go.” He took her hand and beckoned to his son, who held his gaze, nodded, then opened the hatch.
“When can we come back?”
“I don’t know, little one. Maybe never.”
November’s Right Left Write competition is open now - theme: Knock Knock. Enter at www.queenslandwriters.org.au/competitions.
Right Left Write’s October prompt was On the Horizon.