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Confederate States of Australia – You’re Late

July 10th, 2008 - 7:21pm

     It was a dank, dark room. Red wallpaper once lined the walls but was now faded and torn; large stains showed through where they pleased. Devoid of furniture, the small square room still seemed large to Yakov.
     Yakov was tall for a kid his age; his slender frame made him appear even taller. Though his hair was jet black, it was too dirty to tell it’s true colour. In fact, he bathed so rarely it was difficult to determine his skin colour. He stood, towering over the others in the room, who remained seated, cross-legged.
     “Sun’ll be going down soon, I should get going,” he muttered to no one in particular, and strode from the room. Barely-audible goodbye mumbles followed him down the hallway and out the door which, no longer supported, had not fared well since being exposed to the elements.
     Peering into the sky, Yakov noticed the sun was far lower in the sky than he had expected. Cursing under his breath, he pushed aside the rusty bicycles covering his and mounted up his slightly-less-rusted bike. Being late home was not a big deal, at least not to him, but the pointless and wordy lecture he would receive bothered him.
     As Yakov sped along the empty street, his eyes scanned the streetscape. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t find fault. The rusted cars or charred and blackened buildings certainly weren’t out of place. Nor were the scattered piles of debris — not for this part of town. The adults no longer came here; they said there was nothing worth scavenging. It followed, then, that the kids adored the deserted suburb. Maybe there was nothing wrong after all — perhaps the imminent tongue lashing that troubled his thoughts.

     His lateness this evening was exactly what saved Yakov from yet another chiding. As he rounded the corner to Block 34 — the area his family called home — he saw his parents in the distance, standing outside his communal home. Though he could not hear their conversation, he knew his father was displeased.
     “You’re late,” announced Hans — Yakov’s father, stating the obvious. Hans’ accent was thick but not Australian, even though he had lived in Australia all his life. Some felt he emphasised the accent, perhaps to stand out. He was shorter than Yakov by almost a foot but a stern, stocky man.
     “So? I’m old enough to look after myself,” Yakov retorted.
     “I doubt that,” replied Hans, “but tonight you’re looking after Pietra — you know she can’t walk far and I’m not carrying her. We had to ask your brother but since you’re here, he’s coming with us.”
     “Where are you going?”
     “Town meeting, get inside and tell your brother to catch up with us.” What that, Hans turned and walked over to his wife. Yakov went inside, for a short while. Suddenly, he stood straight up and grabbed Pietra’s hand.
     “Why should we miss out on all the fun? Come on, we’re going to that meeting.”

Tags: confederate states of australia, part 1