Banjawarn

It's been 19 years since the "seismic event" at Banjawarn. Conspiracy theorists have different hypotheses. Some say a gas leak at a mining shaft blew up, but the crater is too big from something so localized. Some people point to the suspicious activity of the Aum Shinrikyo, a Japanese doomsday cult. But their access to uranium is questionable at best. Yet, no explanation can be offered for the sheer size of the explosion except for a nuclear bomb. Australia is the only place in the world an atomic bomb could explode and the residents wouldn't notice. The country is too big and all the animals there could kill you. It's been two years since I visited the epicenter of the Banjawarn explosion. I saw the crater. I saw the crystallized glass. Our team calculated the amount of energy required to create that amount of destruction. Our findings were disturbing.

 Australia's a funny place. All of the civilization is on the coast. The center is empty. In the Australian outback, all I remember hearing was the murmurs of the wind. When in isolation, Mother Nature likes to play tricks on the mind. When we were taking soil samples, I remember feeling the hairs on my neck stand up. The university made fun of us when we said we would go to Banjawarm to investigate. They said we were chasing a ghost. The Australian government wasn't so friendly. They said no good could come from there. They were right.

 It was a particularly chilly night in the desert. At night, there's no shelter. When the sun goes down, the temperature plummets and the wind cuts right through you. My colleagues were asleep. They weren't used to working outside. I wanted to get some fresh air. Can't get any from the city. Wind was feisty that night. Howled, hurt my ears. I looked out at the dunes and imagined sliding down them. Some wildlife wandered about. I could only see the glint of their eyes and hear the rustling of the sand. They moved calmly, ignoring our intrusion.

 I heard glass crack. Something had gone in the crater. I noticed the animals avoided it like the plague. I walked over. I didn't notice the animals had gone silent. The wind lets up and look around. All the shimmering eyes had disappeared, except for one pair. I heard the glass crunch again. I heard hard footfalls. The eyes rose from knee level to shoulder height. Whatever had been in the crater was coming out. I backed away slowly. Two more pairs of eyes show up behind the first pair. Then more. The steps fell in unison, creeping closer. I froze.

 My colleague comes out for a smoke. He sees me standing there shivering. He sees what I see. Wordlessly, he grabs my arm and drags me back into the tent. I let out a yelp. I didn't realize it was him. I hear hissing from the crater. I look into his eyes. They're wide and bloodshot. We hurry into the tent and pull out our hunting knives. My colleague wakes up the rest of our friends. They see the fear in our eyes and know to join us. The sand rustled all night as we huddled together. I don't pray, but I prayed that night.

When the sun rose, we radioed in an S.O.S. Our support staff said they'd be there in three hours. I saw shadows flicker on the tent's walls. We dared not speak further. Three hours pass, and I hear the familiar, but concerned voice of our guide. He had answered our S.O.S. He calls us out. I whisper to everyone else to stay. I go out and see a circle of steps around our tent. Our equipment tent is in shambles. Our guide is muttering to himself in Aborigine. He stutters out two words. "Bad people". Then two more. "Leave now". We do. I quit my job after that. Moved cities. But I'll always remember those eyes. They didn't blink. Not once.