The Post-Humans (Book 1): The League (9 page)

“This was the deeper plane you were telling about? You had never seen it before? I thought you had?” Brad shifted himself on the lounge.

“I’d seen it.” Athan gestured to the space in front of him. “I hadn’t been inside. The doors to the deeper plane are rare and I needed to know what was inside. It drew me in. I was dragged in there by my suspicion and my stupid curiousity.”

Bradley’s brow was furrowed in thought.

“So tell me, what did this world look like? You are killing me with suspense!” Brad smiled, trying to lighten Athan’s mood and to press him further.

“Hell, I guess.” Athan shifted himself on the lounge and stared at the inside of his mug. “I’ve never believed in that sort of thing, but that’s the best way I can describe what I saw.”

“There are lots of kinds of Hell my friend, you will have to be more specific,” Brad said with eyebrows raised.

“It was like a featureless landscape crawling with creatures that I can’t even describe. Except the human ones.”

“Human?” Brad asked, obviously enthralled. Athan wondered if Brad may have seen images of this in any of the material he had read over the years. So he decided to be thorough in his description.

Athan squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed at his temple. If the headache disappeared, he’d have an easier time remembering things.

“They were human shaped, and looked aware. Only their faces were blank, featureless and smooth, like ghosts.” Athan blinked. “A world filled with ghosts. I didn’t feel welcome. Getting out of there was such a relief.”

“Well…” Brad got up and paced a little.

“Yeah. Sorry to lay this on you. I know you will probably go out of your mind trying to figure this stuff out now.” Athan cringed, but he felt glad to have told someone.

Brad was processing all the new information. This was what he always used to do it. His mind would recollect all the relevant information he had catalogued in his brain and then he would sift through it, finding what he needed.

A few minutes passed.

“…Faceless figures in the deep…” Brad muttered as he rubbed his short beard.

“What?” Athan leant forward, “You know something?”

“Dan Dangerous…” Brad said finally.

“What now?” Athan screwed up his nose.

“Daniel Carl,” Brad said as he turned to face Athan again. “Used to be called Dan Dangerous back in the seventies. He is an old man now. He was a certified homicide psychic with the Melbourne and Adelaide police departments; I think he did a few Queensland cases too, anything that was a bit hard for the boys in blue. Anyway, once the Post-Human ‘epidemic’ was declared official in government circles, he was ousted from the police and went private, but that didn’t prove quite so profitable. He began doing psychic readings at ‘alternative lifestyle’ festivals. Then the PHC set up a facility somewhere in the desert and began to do their sweeps of rural Victoria, so he went off grid, but I found him a few months ago.” Brad shrugged. “I try to keep track of people like us if I can.”

“What is Dan Dangerous going to do to help me?” Athan shrugged. “How does he tie in?”

“Daniel Carl,” Brad began holding up his forefinger, “had the wonderful ability to probe deeply into the human mind. Nothing like
your
particular talent, but it was a very powerful skill. I don’t know why he even stayed in Australia; he could have made a mint in America or Europe. I guess he was a bit of a ‘true blue’ boy, Aussie through and through, and was clever enough not to draw too much attention to himself.”

Athan nodded.

“He stumbled across imagery in the minds of killers and deranged criminals. Imagery that he found disturbing. He eventually said this in an interview, that he would
‘find any other means possible to help the police prove the guilt of these people to avoid delving into their minds to glean the truth’
. He had seen dark things there, and
‘faceless figures in the deep’
was one of his direct quotes.”

“So I need to find Dan Dangerous for answers?” Athan suggested. He was glad that there was someone out there who knew something.

“Maybe not answers, but it sounds like you have both shared an experience. He will have more to offer than me. As for the repeating event in the minds of unconscious patients, I also can’t help you.” Brad thought for a minute. “Would it be all right if I looked at the names of those patients? I don’t know how much I can learn, but it may be something more than you already know.”

“Umm…doctor patient confidentiality, you know how it is.” Athan smiled as he handed Brad the list of four names. “So, where will I find Mr Dangerous, then? Somewhere obscure I assume?”

“Oh, without doubt. Ever heard of the town of Hawkesdale in the South West?” Brad raised his brow questioningly.

“Weirdly, yes,” Athan said rubbing at his temples again.

There was a person he knew from a lifetime ago that was located in that area, they would be his conduit.

He also wondered if they had a shop there that sold painkillers.

Athan once knew someone who lived out in the country, someone from high school, which seemed like forever ago.

He used the man’s mind as his conduit and found himself in the farming area of Hawkesdale.

It was quaint and very spread out, so it was hard to find a single person among many.

That left social areas, the pub and the football field, but how likely would it be that a powerful psychic would attend either of those?

Friday night he found himself at the only pub in town, making idle conversation with farmers that still smelt of sweat and livestock. These people worked so hard to keep themselves and their farms alive, that a Friday night beer was the only time they met anyone who they didn’t already live with. This was the social event of the week, where they would complain to each other about the state of the world, the weather and the farm next door.

After about eight pots of beer the locals were more than happy to talk to Athan. He had learned a great deal about calving, milking, the week’s worth of rain and a little about how to effectively spread super-phosphate on a cropping field, but nothing about Dan Dangerous.

The next day at the local football game, he met a young red haired man who was cheering on the football team.

“Yeah, I know old Carly!” The man said as he sat on the tray of his ute with his thick arms folded across his broad chest. “Old mate is living in my old man’s parent’s joint ‘cross from the creek. ‘Bout two K’s.” He paused to yell ‘
Come on’
when a player on the field missed a goal. “Yeah me name’s Reg.” He shook Athan’s hand. “Old Carly sometimes gets to the footy, but ya can’t count on him to always turn up. Likes a beer, but not so sweet on all the people. Depends on how he feels I guess.” He uncrossed his arms to pick up his beer for another sip and yelled some encouragement to a player who he knew.

“Athan, good to meet you. That should be easy enough to find. Thank you.”

“You family or a mate? He wouldn’t be happy with me sendin’ some stranger around there, if ya know what I mean? My sister lives basically next door. Me niece goes down to old Carly’s a bit. He’s been a bit like a Granddad to her since my old man passed. Ya know?”

Athan realized that if he saw the sister he could use her as a conduit to get to the house in question.

A short cut.

“That must be a comfort to her,” Athan said nodding. “What does she look like? Your sister, in case I bump into her on my way there?”

“Argh… Yeah, mate. There’s a photo on my phone from Stacy’s birthday a couple of weeks ago. Stacy’s me niece.” He reached into his pocket and drew out his mobile phone and scrolled through the photos while glancing at the game on the field.

“There ya go,” he announced, holding the phone out for Athan to see. “That’s me and Casey.” Athan took a moment to really look at the woman in the photo. “You from the big smoke? My older brother Evan worked in a warehouse in the west, but it closed down. Jobs are hard to come by mate… Mate?”

Athan was nowhere to be seen.

“Rude, prick.”

Athan materialized from the body of a woman who was filling a water trough for her calves.

“Excuse me?” he asked quietly. People were always jumpy when they didn’t see you coming.

The red haired woman turned and blinked.

“I’m looking for Old Carly’s place? Apparently it’s just along here somewhere, near a creek?” Athan gave a friendly smile.

“Where did you come from?” The woman named Casey narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t trying to push us onto another power company are you? We’re happy with ours. We aren’t changing. You city folk in ya smart suits and ties think you can make a few extra bucks out of the farmers. We struggle out here, we don’t have money to throw away or your bloody useless power scams and ya pay TV…”

“I’m family,” Athan said to end the zealous speech. They were clearly suspicious of anyone in a suit.

“Why are ya dressed like you’re goin to a funeral then? Aren’t you cold?” she asked. These people always had too much to say and wanted a life story before they pointed you in the right direction.

“I’ve been to a funeral, I’m sorry, I just really wanted to see my uncle while I’m here,” Athan lied.

“Isn’t he at the footy?” she said as she turned off the hose.

There were two options on a Saturday: football or back to work in the paddock.

At least, that was what Athan suspected.

Athan shrugged. “He didn’t feel up to it.”

“Well, Carly’s stayin’ in Nartook. That’s the name of Dad’s old place. It’s a ‘K’ down the dirt, or you can cross my place, down here.” She pointed to a shabby white house amongst some trees near a creek choked up with reeds. “Just down the hill and cross into Farley’s at the bottom. Only one fence to jump, you’ll be right.” She returned to her task, coiling the hose. “Tell him Casey said G’day, and I’ll send Stacy down with some cookies to make him feel better.”

“Thank you so much. This means a lot.” He gave her a curt nod and began the trek down the hill through the wet grass.

She was either confrontational or too friendly.

Too much talking…

He didn’t dare ask for waterproof boots, she would have invited him inside for lunch.

The sun was shining that afternoon, which made the walk pleasant. It was the wet feet that didn’t help.

Deep grass is always horrid in winter.

Athan cursed himself for not being better prepared.

He finally arrived at the little rusty gate to the garden, which was a little overgrown. Dan obviously didn’t have a green thumb.

What did he do here while he’s hiding from the PHC?

He pushed through a few shrubs to get to the front door and gave a firm knock.

“Who’s there?” a voice from inside echoed. “Is that you Stacy?”

“You know it’s a man’s knock, Daniel Carl. I’m a friend,” Athan answered.

The door creaked open and an old man with a long grey beard and a flannelette shirt stood staring up at him. “A friend eh? You’re like
me
. Interesting.”

Athan smiled. “Dan Dangerous, I presume?”

DAN DANGEROUS DID not look as old as he should.

He would have passed for sixty perhaps, but then again Post-Humans didn’t age quite the same way as regular humans. He was still tall for an old man, just less than six feet. Clothed in a flannelette shirt and work pants, as well as sporting an impressive grey beard, he looked the part of a retired farmer.

The man looked Athan up and down.

“You would have come a long way, son.” The old man gestured for Athan to come in and offered him a seat on an old armchair.

“Thank you, yes I have,” Athan replied and sank into the musty smelling chair, rubbing at his temples, his head throbbing.

The room was filled with all the usual paraphernalia of a country home: knitted blankets, family photos on the wall (probably not Dan’s family), fly swats, folded tea towels and even a framed print of the famous Tom Roberts’ painting ‘Shearing the Rams’ above an open fire place.

The quintessential item for any farmhouse,
Athan thought, remembering art history lessons from his university days.

Dan stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of the lounge room.

“Thirsty mate? I’ve got some cordial or tank water. Real water, not like that poison you drink in the city.” The old man made a bee-line for the kitchen.

“A cup of coffee if you have it, Mr Carl,” Athan said rubbing his temples now that the man was out of sight. “And pain killers if you have them.”

He cursed himself for not having brought some with him.

Everywhere he seemed to go he’d ask for pain killers. He decided that people would think he was an addict if he didn’t start buying his own.

There was some knocking about and running taps in the kitchen.

“Yes, of course. I’ll chuck the kettle on.” He came back carrying an old fashioned steel kettle and sat it on the iron hob in the fireplace.

The fire was warm and crackling, and Dan added another lump of wood to stoke it up, before setting himself down in another armchair.

“Nice place,” Athan said, trying to initiate a conversation, and distract himself from his throbbing head.

“Yeah,” Dan looked around, “but I miss the city. I try to talk it up and fit in, but I really miss espresso, cheap burgers and a good shirt and tie. By the way, you look a little dapper for the sticks, in a ‘just run a marathon’ kinda way.” Dan chuckled, gesturing to Athan’s creased and, now dirty, shirt and suit.

“I don’t have a lot of choice in outfit these days.” Athan straightened the tie.

“A work thing?” Dan enquired, tilting his head

“Call it a lifestyle choice.” Athan finished with a smile.

Dan nodded and was silent for a moment while he watched the flames.

“So, why are you hunting Dan Dangerous? And how did you find him?” The old man asked.

Dan was to the point and didn’t stuff around.

Athan much preferred that to drawn out awkward conversation about weather or politics.

“It has taken some time, but I have a friend who has a way with information, and I can move a little quicker than most people if I know where I’m going.” Athan watched the fire as he spoke.