Page 197 of The Storm Boys Series Collection

CHAPTER FOUR

TULLY

It tooktwo days for Jeremiah’s and my permits to enter the Arnhem Land islands to come through. It took me that long to organise things at work, even though we were only expecting to be gone for maybe two days at the most, and itwasa weekend. But my work had been busier than ever, and the days of the week hadn’t really mattered since the cyclone.

Everyone worked every day.

But Mum and Dad knew everyone had been puttin’ in long hours since Hazer, and they also knew I’d be goin’ with Jeremiah whether I had approved time off or not.

He was goin’ to a remote island, after all. A remote island that was only accessible by boat and was a true effort to get to—even more remote than the bunker.

There was no way I was letting him go alone.

My dad had two boats, and one in particular was ideal. A twenty-two-metre Sportfisher. It was designed for fishin’, but it would be more than perfect for what we needed. Jeremiah thought the boat was fancy—and it was nice, don’t get me wrong—but it wasn’t the biggest or most expensive in its class. Not that I expected Jeremiah to know these things.

Dad loved his boat; he went deep-sea fishin’ any chance he got. Helovedit enough that he’d had it taken out of harm’s way when the cyclone was due to hit. Like all the ships in our fleet. His fishing boat was no exception.

Growin’ up, Dad had taken all his kids fishing, just like he took us hunting, and riding motorbikes, and camping in Kakadu.

Rowan preferred fishing. I preferred camping out at the bunker, and Zoe and Ellis preferred sports like football and CrossFit.

But we all learned how to drive a boat, like we all knew how to ride a motorbike or drive a forklift. Like we all knew how to cook, clean, and sew on a button.

So takin’ Jeremiah to some remote weather station on an island for a day or two sounded like a holiday to me. In fact, I was secretly hoping for a two- or three-day stay. Albeit, he had a list of work he needed to do, and a crate of gear to do it with.

All I’d packed was a fishing rod, a change of shorts, and my toothbrush.

I wasn’t expecting it to be all fun and games, but I got to tag along, help out, explore the area, maybe do a spot of fishin’, and hang out with my most favouritest person. Not to mention the scorching hot ways we’d need to entertain ourselves at night, all by ourselves, alone with no television.

It was all a win for me.

The Bureau of Meteorology offered to pay me, and they did fulfil a bogus invoice I’d sent them. But I’d used the money they’d paid me for my ‘charter service’ to order a top of the range ergonomic desk chair for Jeremiah, because what they expected him to use wasn’t good enough.

The cheaper one I’d bought him before, and Bruce the dog’s chair, wouldn’t cut it anymore for my Jeremiah.

Which I decided to tell him all about on the way to the marina when Ellis was driving us, because Jeremiah wouldn’t be mad at me in front of my brother.

Or so I’d thought.

“Why would you do that?” Jeremiah said firmly. “You were supposed to use the money to cover costs and expenses for this trip.”

“Because the chair I fixed for you before isn’t good enough for the hours you put in. And the one you inherited when you took over is at least twenty years old, covered in dog hair, and has the impression of Doreen’s backside in it,” I argued. “And no doubt your head office would only approve basic cheap shit in the new refurb, and I want you to have only the best.”

He narrowed those sharp blue eyes at me. “But now I feel bad. You’re covering the costs of this trip—the fuel, the food... when you said you’d organise all that, I didn’t expect you to pay for it. It was covered in the invoice.”

“Sure. Honestly, the chair wasn’tthatexpensive,” I countered. “But the way I look at it is that chair is technically for me as well.”

He blinked. “You want to use my office chair?”

I winked at him. “Hell yes. I needed to ensure the chair was the best ergonomic design for spinal support, but also that it held both our body weights because we have to christen your new office.”

Ellis laughed.

“Christen...” Jeremiah’s eyes went wide when he realised what I meant. He glanced at Ellis, then cut me a rather sharp stare as he burned a spectacular shade of red. “Oh my god.”

I just laughed. “Boats and ships are christened with smashing a champagne bottle before its maiden voyage. Office chairs should totally receive a similar bang and smash.”

Ellis cracked up laughing. “Did you buy the chair from a sex shop? Because those are totally a thing.”

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