Freedom

The invaders came from the water, spilling from cavernous submarines, a tsunami of death upon beaches all over Australia. The submersibles, which carried them undetected through thousands of miles of dark oceans, superseded anything our military had seen. Within a day, our defense systems were neutralised. I had the chance to see the invaders’ genderless faces up close. Long, thin features atop long, thin bodies. Pale and mass-produced in the labs of a foreign country, walking slabs of meat controlled by a government who had been planning our defeat for decades.

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I’d been walking out the school gates with Louisa when they appeared – hundreds of them – blocking the ends of the street on those high-tech, weird-arse scooters. We were part of a throng of teenagers who didn’t know what to do (except take footage for Tiktok) so when the guns were pointed at us, we marched right back into school, into the new gym. The invaders issued commands in unison with thin, unaccented voices and the few kids who argued were killed for their efforts. Louisa was so scared she pissed her pants and I gave her my senior jersey to tie around her waist.

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That was about two weeks ago and we lived in the Hervey Bay Hell Hole for just over a week. HB double H: that’s the name we gave the compound. God knows how they did it, but towering electric fences were constructed down at Seafront oval, extending all the way to the Torquay, which is about five kilometres. We were marched there all the way from the school gym and forced to stand outside all day, under sun that burnt with such a ferocity that I’m still peeling dead skin from my face and arms. I was so parched, I wasn’t even able to swear when I saw the barbed wire and the rows of squat canvas tents inside the compound, but when we were stripped off and hosed like a bunch of animals, I let it rip. To shut me up, one of the invaders pointed a gun at my old fella. Then we were issued with a pair of loose brown pants and matching shirts. ‘You look like a giant turd,’ Louisa had said and even though she’d been trying to make me laugh, I cried instead.

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There were so many rules in the HB double H, but the worst was no talking. We’d whisper to each other in passing or behind our hands as we pretended to cough. We created a hybrid kind of sign language. It’s weird, but the invaders didn’t seem to be able to read body language and I discovered that you could give them the middle finger and nothing would happen. So, we’d grin at one another and give them the big ole’ f-you. We also gave each other the thumbs up, mouthing, she’ll be right mate and I hugged a lot of people too.

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Two nights ago, there was a storm. While the heavens were thundering and the ocean roaring, the people in my tent could hide their voices under the calamity. ‘This is our land,’ a guy called Mick said. ‘My grandfather fought for this country. He fought for freedom and we should do the same. We can’t let these bastards win.’ And it’s like some higher force heard him, because just after Mick said that lightning hit the electric fence.

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The sound was apocalyptic and the camp descended into darkness. Everyone came out of their tents to see the invaders twitching, like a bunch of robots whose electrics had been fried. Somehow, the power surge had incapacitated them, and people started running for the gate. That guy, Mick, was right at the front, screaming ‘Freedom! at the top of his bloody lungs and then he picked up one of the weapons from a short-circuiting invader and shot it right in the head. Boom! There was no blood, just a weird, oily liquid oozing out, and the invader made a noise that sounded like a surprised, ‘Oh!’

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I wondered if this counted as murder, but before I could decide on right or wrong, Louisa grabbed a weapon and shot one and then, I was doing it too. It wasn’t fun, but we have to play by different rules now. That’s what it takes to save a country.

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I’m never going to forget the soundtrack of that night—the storm, the sea, the guns, and those small, surprised little ‘Oh’s. Mostly, I’ll remember Mick screaming, freedom. It’s what we’ll all keep on fighting for.