Alec lowers the mud-stained duffel bag from his shoulders and places it on the dusty plain. He
removes a long metal rod that, once telescopically extended, mirrors his own modest height.
Stabbing the spear into the scorched earth, Alec puffs his weathered cheeks with exertion as he
pushes the rod further into the cracking soil. After affixing a rubber tube into an outlet on the spear,
he then connects a litre-sized silver thermos, kneels and starts to rhythmically squeeze the black
handle.
Amidst a cloud of spiralling dust, a Jeep approaches. Leaving the track road, it passes the collapsed
wooden fence and bobs over the desolate farmland towards Alex. He tips his hat down upon his
face to protect himself from the coarse sand. Continuing to squeeze the black handle, he smiles
through the grit.
“You know, you’ll catch a cold like this.” A feminine voice offers after stepping out of the car
door. “The change in temperature.”
“Mrs Holland” Alec acknowledges dryly, focusing on the thermos between his thighs.
“You’re unbelievable.” She marvels as she thrusts her hand into the duffel bag and removes two
heavy Arctic gloves. “You haven’t even unpacked. And is this the best I’m going to get from you this
weekend? Back out here in your dirt. Not even a ‘good morning’?”
She flicks back a blonde fringe and places her hands on her hips as she glances up and down the
metal pole. The thermos gurgles in emptiness.
“Linda.” Alec disconnects the tube, removes his sunglasses and stands up from the dirt. Turning
to Linda, he grasps her belt and pulls her towards him before kissing her passionately. “Happy
anniversary.”
“It’s almost ready.” Alec exhales. “This batch is the strongest yet. If it can work here as well as
Antarctica, I think we’re ready.”
“So we can finally have a honeymoon?” Linda retorts.
A bubble of brown liquid forms in the spear’s outlet, followed quickly by another before an inch of
wet mud blocks the hole. Tentatively, Alec collapses the top-half of the rod to reveal a foot-long
column of wet earth. He and Linda both move closer and begin to inspect the soil.
The car horn beeps excitedly as a wide-smiled child gleefully rocks the steering wheel.
“I think we can go home.”
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