Weird Heroes

By Michael McGovern

It is a fantasy set in the future, a new type of hero arises and battles to save the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728398877

Book preview

Prologue

you never know what you are going to get’.

(Forest Gump, 1994.)

I t was 1 st January 2025 and John Broadback was on look out duty during the middle watch (midnight until 4am) aboard the clipper/steamer Bully Baines which was steaming from Port Philip Bay, Geelong, Victoria in Southern Australia to New Plymouth, the main port on the western North Island of New Zealand. It was 2am on a bright moon and star lit night as he once more began an horizon search with his binoculars. He started from the stern and slowly swept his search across the horizon towards the bows. Ahead, some forty or fifty mile away was New Zealand and he had some very happy memories of it, especially Wellington. He shivered in sudden excitement at the thoughts now flooding his head.

Suddenly, his attention was attracted by a reddish glow on the horizon directly ahead. He focussed his binoculars bringing this glow nearer.

Report from the starboard lookout, Sir he reported through the mike next to him that linked him to the bridge and to the officer of the watch, there appears to be a strange glow on the horizon directly ahead sir.

Thanks, Broadbank, said Second Officer Henderson. I can see it quite clearly myself now. he answered

After an hour the glow had got brighter and was extending right across the horizon. So Henderson decided it was time to report to the captain.

He blew down the voice pipe, waited until the captain answered it and then said; Captain, sir, officer of the watch. There appears to be quite an irregularity ahead, right in the direction of New Zealand which I think you should take a look at sir.

OK, No2 I’ll be up there in a few minutes. Replied Captain Massey.

The captain arrived on the bridge and studied the horizon with his Zeiss binoculars. It was like nothing like anything he had ever seen. The whole horizon in the direction of New Zealand glowed with a bright red. A beautiful sunrise, the captain thought, except it was five hours to early and rising in the wrong direction. He decided to remain on the bridge for the rest of the night.

As the night sky slowly turned to day a horrific panorama began to unfold before the eyes of the bridge crew. All binoculars were focussed ahead. They were now close enough to see the whole horizon was on fire. Thick, black smoke billowed upwards for miles.

Sir, sir, came a voice from the cabin behind. It was the radio officer and he was waving a piece of paper. I’ve just received a message from Wellington radio. It says they’re being attacked. Then all of a sudden it just stopped, in the middle of transmission. The captain took the message from his hand, looked at it.

Send a message home [Australia], telling them of the message and of the fire and smoke above Wellington. In the meantime, I think it prudent that we lie off for a while and then make our way into slowly the harbour. I want all hands on deck. Everyone is to be given a pair of binoculars. The whole of this area is to be searched thoroughly for any signs of life. I also want the two lifeboats manned for immediate launch. All hands be alert for any signs of movement or life. Down sails and drop anchor, he ordered.

The ship wallowed on the swell as it slowly drifted towards the coast. The silence was deafening. All eyes were looking, searching for any flotsam, jetsam or, most significantly any signs of life, animal or human.

"Yer know what number one? This silence is eerie, it’s unnatural. Have you seen, or even heard a seabird, or any bird for that matter, for the last hour or so. Where are the fish that normally follow a ship? There doesn’t appear to be any life at all. What’s happened? The Captain asked quite excitedly

"No idea, Cap’n but getting excited won’t help. With your permission, I’d like to get under way again within the next hour, or at least when there is more light, so’s we can slowly crawl up the coast taking in whatever we can?, the first officer answered.

Yep, ok No1.

The night sky began to get lighter, but the sky over the New Zealand coast was black with thick, heavy smoke with a base of bright red and yellow fire. The ship was now almost three mile off the coast and port of New Plymouth. All members of the ships crew were on deck, all eyes focussed on the shore line. What had once been a vibrant bustling port was now a mass of flames. As they passed the estuary to the port, they could see ships burning. Everywhere was just a mass of flames with thick black clouds of smoke covering the deep, azure sky. They continued on a northerly course, aiming to do a circumnavigation of both islands, all the time assessing and collecting as much date as possible. Data which would be passed back home to Australia and then relayed back to Europa.

Doesn’t look that hot for those limey government poofters, does it? said one sailor.

Too bloody hot if you ask me, cobber retorted another.

For days they sailed around the coast of New Zealand. Everywhere the same story and picture unfolded. Fire. Smoke. Desolution. Utter destruction. The whole of the coast line; north, south, east and west of New Zealand appeared to have been completely and utterly destroyed. The captain made no attempt to land. There was no sign whatsoever of any living thing, human or animal. The ship’s crew, however, took many pictures, and the more articistic of them drew pictures.

The ship’s Radio Officer was the busiest man on the ship during those first, few yet harrowing days. He received a constant stream of messages all of which demanded answers, mainly clarify what has happened and the Captain kept supplying the same answer; I don’t know, but it doesn’t look very nice and since my crew and I are cowards by birth, we are now making our way back to civilization.

Needless to say confusion reigned. Then panic took over and the governments of the Oceania Australius bloc, like all governments faced with the unknown did an ostrich and buried their collective heads in the sand, and spread stories about the crew of the Bully Baines, especially stories concerning their fourth officer who they claimed (who are ‘they’) came from a tribe of head hunters.

What couldn’t be ignored was the complete lack of radio traffic from New Zealand. An urgent conference was called; but it would take at least six weeks to get all the leaders of the bloc together since many were tribal leaders and lived either in the outback, in the jungle