Gunter landed Trigger on an empty strip of road near my courtyard home and the last hundred metres drove in silence.
As I stepped from the car, he said, ‘Holly, please you must listen to me. I do have something very important to tell you. You need to know.’
‘Don’t care. The IGSF have given me all the information I need, thank you.’
Hubby’s phone tingled breaking the monotony at 11am. My niece informed us that the T-Team had already reached Coober Pedy.
‘They must’ve driven most of the night,’ Hubby remarked.
I had visions of MB and co not sleeping until they were on the outskirts of Coober Pedy.
As the phone reception was seriously patchy, the bare amount of information was exchanged. Arrangements were made to meet at the monument when we arrived.
I wrapped my arms around my chest as a defence. ‘I trusted you. You used me. You and that Boris.’
‘Steady on,’ Boris puffed out a bit of nail, ‘I’m not all about death and destruction. I helped save the boy’s life.’
‘And if that boy refuses to worship you, are you going to get him exterminated? This is a set up.’ I punched Gunter. ‘You tricked me. What’s going to happen now? Am I going to be killed?’
And so, at 6.30pm and in darkness, Hubby and I turned off to Mambray Creek…
And MB’s team, driven by Mrs. T…didn’t.
I fumbled for my mobile and called MB. ‘What’s happening?’
‘That is a funny place to lose your lunch,’ Gunter said. ‘Why did you put it there?’
‘When Boris came up on that screen ordering all non-believers of him to be executed, you could say, my lunch made its own way there.’ I held my throat as the lack of appetite returned. ‘I just sort of followed.’
‘What a strange lunch to have a mind of its own and run away from you and into the sewerage.’ Gunter laughed as he reached his arm around me and turned to the back seat. ‘Let me see what I have in the personal ice-box of Trigger for us to eat.
The camel race idea slid into obscurity. We spent Saturday morning lazing around at Glen Helen, fighting off flies. One T-Kid resorted to wearing a cloth shopping bag over their head while other T-members bought flynets from the store. The T-Team explored the waterhole at Glen Helen, before having lunch with the congregation of flies. Then we travelled to Ormiston Gorge.
Read more "T-Team Next Generation–Ormiston Gorge"The Professor shook my hand. ‘Now behave yourself and do what he says. And M-Miss Mueller, keep the heck away from that derp Kirk.’ He then turned and marched back to the glass sliding doors, jumped several times, sighed, raked his rug of hair on his head, tapped one foot and then when a person exited, he scrambled inside before the glass doors trapped him.
Read more "Mirror World (21)"‘Definitely cattle country,’ I remarked as we passed a huge bull carcass by the roadside. Another sign warning of wandering cattle zipped past.
One and a half hour’s on and the flat road became hilly, twisting and turning, up and down as if a rollercoaster. ‘I don’t remember this,’ I said. ‘Oh, that’s right, the other times I visited Glen Helen, we hiked through the back way along the Finke.’
‘I’ve been tricked! She’s an illegal alien! Arrest her!’
I remained stranded copping this insane abuse. Curious onlookers gathered; the entertainment broke the monotony of hospital life and eternal patient-waiting.
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