Athena Law
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(STOP. REVIVE. SURVIVE.)
Apparently fatigue is the silent killer—according to these signs along the highway—but I’d wager I’ve got a higher body count.
The trivia signs to keep you awake are giving me a laugh. Does anyone care which bushranger roamed this endless stretch of eucalypts? Or which is the highest mountain in Australia? I’m better off making up my own to pass the time.
FATIGUE ZONE
Question: Where do ferrets called Phineas sleep?
Ah, Phineas. A simple job down in Melbourne (or what I call a Slip Slop Slap) turned into a weak-hearted moment, when I nicked this little bugger. I mean, he might’ve starved to death. He’s now fat for a ferret, and his favourite sleep spot is curled around my neck. He’s happy right now because this next job requires a business shirt, and the collar is pretty snug.
FATIGUE ZONE
Question: What sort of job requires a business shirt?
As a fixer, I’ve a wardrobe in my boot for all eventualities. I have the muscles to carry off the fluorescent tradies shirt and shorts combo, but for wet jobs I prefer dark colours. For obvious reasons. This farmer in the arse-end of nowhere thinks I’m a pro-bono lawyer riding into town to save him from wolves who want his land. His mineral rich land, far from prying eyes.
FATIGUE ZONE
Question: Phineas is still snoozing, but when did you last sleep yourself?
Good question, I tell myself. The crappy coffee from the last servo was two hours ago. I’d had a nap after I took care of the problematic grandmother who’d apparently been feebly whispering about changing her will, that was three servos ago. So maybe twenty-two hours? Nah, I’d get this one done and sleep then.
FATIGUE ZONE
Question: Where is the arse-end of nowhere?
The spindly gum trees with the fire-blackened trunks have run out, now it’s just dust and dirt and a narrowing, elusive highway. It bends and shifts in front of me, slinky like Phineas, whose fat little body is warm and cosy against my skin. I’m keen to reach my farmer, wait for him to relax before I do my job, do it before he has a clue. Who’s the silent killer now, I’ll say, as I straighten my tie and then collect my briefcase.
The highway shimmers in the late afternoon sun, sliding away until I’m not sure where my turn off is. Only a novice would use GPS, or anything that could allow tracking. But my map said to leave the highway around now, did I yawn and miss it?
The dust has seeped into the car, gritty under my eyelids. There’s a single tree in the distance, and a sign, that must be my turn. I blink and in that blink comes the crush of my car slamming into the tree and my head smashing into the windscreen and Phineas flying through the dust and the sun and the glass past the sign—
FATIGUE ZONE
Keep Playing Trivia – It May Save Your Life
(Well, not YOUR life, but Ferrets named Phineas, yes)
Athena’s prompts were: On a Road Trip, Strange Pet, Something Stolen
Athena Law is an award-winning, Pushcart nominated short fiction author & poet, whose stories have been included in several print anthologies. She lives on a hillside in the idyllic Sunshine Coast hinterland in Queensland, Australia, where she collects pencils and has all her best ideas at midnight. She’s currently avoiding editing her first novel while merrily bashing out her second (her keyboard sends an SOS).
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