Page 43 of The Space Traveller's Lover
Realizing that everyone is struggling to believe her words, she starts walking towards the exit, pushing Sam in front of her. As they step forwards, the crowd has to make way for the impenetrable protecting shield.
When they reach the exit doors, she looks back and announces, “You have heard what I had to say. And I will repeat it until no doubt remains.”
Then pushing Sam onto the waiting scouting-craft hovering over the pavement outside, she adds, “Now, it’s time to set Sam free.”
As Shaillah enters the cockpit, a puzzled Sam is scratching his head while inspecting the flickering dashboard. A constant stream ofmulticoloured symbols springs up and flashes above the glowing screens, weaving into a network of intertwined pathways.
“Wow, Erin. And you drive this?” Sam asks, astounded, his eyes wildly moving around, unable to focus on anything.
“Oh, It’s quite easy. All routes are programmed in advance. I only need to activate the sequences from my brain. Like this!”
The swift vertical jolt makes Sam fall on his seat. As the engines roar amid a fast-scattering white mist, they fly over the townhouses and then out over the country roads, trailed by the line of chasing police cars and helicopters. The sleek aircraft frequently decelerates to maintain a constant leading gap with its pursuers, as if not wanting to disappear from their sight.
It soon becomes quite clear where they are all heading—towards the Lobarts’ farm.
CHAPTER 18
THE SIEGE
And are you still going to tell me that you are not human?
As the scouting-craft gently lands on the farm’s backyard, Shaillah jumps out onto the grass and rushes towards the kitchen door, breaking open the lock with a swift but intense electric discharge from her body shield. A startled Sam follows her cautiously, keeping a safe distance.
An overexcited Blazer greets them as they go in, jumping at her repeatedly every time he is knocked back, trying to reach her.
“So, Blazer seems to recognise you all right,” Sam notes while the dog keeps jumping towards her.
She points at her wooden chair, guiding her dog to stand on it and ordering him to be quiet. Blazer immediately stops panting and shaking, sitting perfectly still and looking at her, whining as if wholly hypnotised.
As Sam watches her guiding Blazer, her giggles and sighs of joy bring back memories of the Erin he knew so well and loved so deeply.It’s Erin! It’s her, he repeats to himself.
“Are you still doubting it?” she reprimands him.
“N-n-no,” he stammers, wondering how she could know what he is thinking.
The whirring of the helicopters rattles through the air, and the squeaking of the braking cars vibrates through the ground. Sam rushes to one of the front windows and looks towards the farm’s road through thespaced wooden fence panels. Astonished, he sees several vehicles trying to approach the farmhouse from different directions, only to grind to a halt a few metres away from the fence as if stopped by an invisible barrier.
No matter how hard they try, the drivers are unable to make their cars advance any further. Likewise, the pilots cannot make their helicopters descend past a certain height, eventually giving up and landing farther away, beyond the parked vehicles of the islanders and ARA personnel.
Albert Lobart sharply stops his pickup truck by the row of police cars parked at each side of the road leading to his farm’s front gates. He asks Patricia to get out, and as soon as she does, he accelerates and weaves his way through the gaps between the cars. His mad dash doesn’t last long, as his truck crashes and grinds to a halt against the invisible barrier, provoking a sudden lightning strike against the bonnet. He falls flat over the steering wheel.
Two police officers run to him, finding him completely unconscious. As the officers quickly carry Lobart’s non-responsive body towards a waiting police car, Martha and Bill Sheppard approach them. They watch in disbelief as the officers lay a lifeless Albert Lobart on the backseats while despairing at how their son might be faring inside the farmhouse.
Pat Lobart arrives as the vehicle speeds off.
“Oh, Patricia,” Martha shouts, running towards a dazzled Mrs Lobart, “he’s badly bruised. He crashed against the barrier, no wonder.”
“What barrier?” Patricia growls in disconcert.
“Listen, everyone.” The voice of J. J. Walker, the island’s police section captain, resounds over the rowdy congregation. “Do not approach the farm from any direction. Stay clear of this area. I repeat—stay clear.”
It’s not long before news of the day’s events spread across the island, and many of its residents and visitors rush towards the site. The police and ARA brigades start to surround the area and set up a police cordon, keeping the curious people at what they consider a safe distance, fifty metres away from the farm’s perimeter fence.
“Are you ready to come out now, children?” shouts Captain Walker through the loudspeaker, stressing the word “children” in a sarcastic tone.
But to no avail. No one is responding from the farmhouse.
Martha Sheppard runs towards the captain and asks him to let her speak to her son. He reluctantly hands the loudspeaker to her.
