The Forgotten Land of Myria

ANGUS

A bright sunny day would have been typical in Brisbane. Not today. The sky was cloudy and the atmosphere fresh with tension from the disaster. I’d been traveling for two days, along with Dr. Schejner and a crew of prestigious physicists. We arrived in Brisbane and went straight to the beach. Our first day had consisted of spotting out the place of occurrence and gathering basic anemometric information. There was a lot of commotion surrounding the beach--people who had lost their loved ones were camped out on the sand in hopes of a miracle and we were bombarded with questions upon arrival. Questions none of us had answers to yet.

At the end of the day, we finally checked into a hotel which, other than a fine view, looked like a dumpster had thrown up. I couldn’t stand still for more than sixteen seconds without having to look for a Kleenex. Fortunately, I wouldn’t be there for long. Rebel? Maybe, but I had other things in mind.

I stretched out one of the weekly newspapers I had found on the street and scrolled down trying to find the article I was looking for. I came across the title that read:

‘’MYSTERIOUS WHIRLWIND CLAIMED 61 VICTIMS’’

I skimmed through the article and found out about the survivor. Roy Kendon. He was in Mater Private Hospital. I grinned. I had found my prey.

The next day after lunch, we had an hour in the hotel before we left for Sandgate Beach--another beach in close proximity to the catastrophe that was suspected to have some type of influence. That’s when I made my move.