Logan Robinson leaned back in his computer chair. Even though he was physically in the tiny rural town of Meningie, a town you only drive through to get to somewhere else more interesting, his power was based in the world of ones and zeros. A Matrix-like existence if you would.
One hundred and seventy-nine centimetres tall, fair-skinned with too many freckles to be attractive to most women, twenty-eight years of age, Logan had served six years as a computer support airman with the RAAF and now was living back with his mum in Meningie. He had set up an IT consultancy that served Adelaide businesses, but it was a cover for his more interesting and lucrative life.
Logan’s best mate’s daughter had been killed at a farm because a gate had been left unlatched, and the six-year-old followed her natural curiosity and ended up trampled by the cattle that poured in off a B-double. Every person in Meningie felt shock and distress, distraught as the funeral service got underway.
The whole community of Meningie attended the service of Lily April Wilkins. Deaths happen in country towns, but it’s usually the death of an elderly pensioner or the suicide of an out-of-luck, end-of-their-tether farmer. The death of a six-year-old girl stood out as uncommon, and the town wanted to come and pay their respects.
Little Lily’s life was celebrated and mourned at the local RSL on a boiling hot day. At 11am the priest from the Catholic church in the centre of Meningie started the ceremony, aided by the pastor from the Anglican church at the far end of town. “The grace and peace of God our Father, who raised Jesus from the dead, be always with you.” “And also with you.” It was standing room only, even the local hotel hung a sign on its door letting everyone know that they were at a funeral and wouldn’t be open until around 2.30pm.
‘Thanks for being here for us, mate,’ Dan said to Logan at the end of the service, when everyone had poured out and mumbled something incomprehensible to Sarah and Dan because they didn’t know how to tell of their own pain, let alone recognising Sarah and Dan’s.
‘No worries, Dan. Let me know when you and Sarah are ready to move to the cemetery.’
The priest and the pastor somehow silently manifested at Sarah and Dan’s side and one at a time invited them to come for a cup of tea at their respective churches, ‘when you are up to it.’
While his best mate Dan and Dan’s wife Sarah were heartbroken, Lily’s death affected Logan too. Only his mother knew that his father and his younger brother had met their end in a similar way, in a similar town, leaving Logan the silent bearer of his own grief. Because his family were then living in the north of the state, no-one in Meningie knew of their loss, and Dan and his mum kept the event to themselves. Tragedy can either spill out through a community, or the grieving few circle the wagons. Dan and his mum circled the wagons.
Back at home after the service and the burial, Logan and his mum sat down together in the living room and held hands across the gap between the two armchairs.
‘Logan, darling, why don’t you take some time off and go somewhere nice? The Gold Coast, perhaps. I’ll pay for it all.’
‘Thanks, mum, but Dan and Sarah need me at the moment. And I have things to do—clients to look after, systems to keep running. But it’s a really nice offer, thanks.’
I could go. I could take my laptop and sort out a way to make the farm management pay for their negligence and Lily’s death. The same clueless Chinese management that owned the farm up north, the same clueless management that refused to acknowledge their part in the deaths of my father and brother.
Dan had already created a mental list of other cyber criminals he could call on to help him wreak revenge. There’s Moonbeam, XL5, Chartreuse… Dragon would probably be up for some fun. Oh yes, Dragon would be up for it.
Patricia, Logan’s mum, looked at her son, at his fiery face, and she was worried.
‘You’re not going to cause mischief again, are you? Please say you aren’t.’
‘No mum, those days are behind me. I have a nice little IT consultancy with some Adelaide businesses, I have a nice friendship group around here. My days of mayhem and madness are behind me.’
‘You promise?’
‘Absobloodylutely.’
Patricia was not so sure. Logan’s face and body language was the same right now as it was when his father and brother died. He was wearing the face of revenge.
She left him under the pretence of going to sort dinner out, but instead slipped out under the back verandah and rang Senior Constable McKenzie’s private phone. At the same time, Logan dug into a trouser pocket and pulled out a small plastic Ziplock bag full of white power. He dipped a finger in, wiped his teeth and gums, sealed the bag and returned it to his pocket, resting back in his armchair.