text: “Dad!” A little voice called from deep in some crevice of one of the Bercan family’s rooms. The call was followed by a drawn out wail, which gathered intensity until it could sustain itself no longer and it came crashing down flights of octaves to end in an exaggerated sob. Durie Bercan, the father being called for, left his desk and hurried down the dark hallway, trying not to trip over toys and towels on the way. His two children had just left the bathroom to run to their shared bedroom and snuggle into their beds, when the entire house had gone dark. Durie guessed that this was what had caused the wail. He reached the bedroom door without injury, and tried to turn on the light. Remembering the situation, he rolled his eyes at himself, and opened the blind on the window instead, which let a little light into the room. “There you go, Eevie,” he said, forestalling another unnecessary wail. “Can you see now?” “No.” Durie smiled, thankful that the darkness hid his approval. “Why is it dark?” Ten-year-old Alexander asked. Durie didn’t blame him for being unsettled. The darkness was extreme. At night time, the house would usually be dimly illuminated by bulbs hanging from the roof of each room, and outside each street had brilliant ropes of light running down each side to show the way to any late drivers, but now there was no light aside from the pale moonlight which entered the room uncertainly through the lace curtain on the window. “I think it’s so that we can enjoy this night especially,” Durie answered with a smile in his voice. “What do you think?” By this time, the three had found each other and Durie and Alex were holding hands. Five-year-old Eevie still thought she was little enough to be held in her dad’s strong arms, and at special moments, she was allowed to, so she jumped up against him, and Durie lifted her up with one arm. Eevie was no longer concerned by the malfunctioning lights. This was fun. “What do you mean? Can we not go to bed?” Both children were eager to make this a profitable opportunity. “No... But I think you can go to bed somewhere else. Would you like to tent in the backyard tonight?” “Yes!” Eevie bounced up and down in excitement, and Durie had to let go of Alex’s hand to keep her from falling. “Okay, come on. Bring your pillows and blankets and a toy if you want, and we’ll go set the tent up. I hope mum doesn’t mind!” ---- -- It didn’t take long for everything to be set in order in the backyard. Or, at least relative order. Eevie was wearing a pair of her brothers socks and if you looked really closely, you’d see that a part of the tent was being held together with sticky-tape, but everyone was content, sitting in a circle, looking up at the evening’s stars through the tent’s skylight. A little hand rose slowly and pointed to the sky, and Durie looked at his daughter’s face as she stared with rapture at the white diamonds in the sky. “Never seen this many stars,” Alex commented in a low voice. Their father said nothing, not willing to break the beautiful moment if peace. Any minute now, he sensed that both of his children would start to drift off to the shores of sleep and while he wanted the time they were spending to last forever, suspended like the yellow moon in the sky to the very last, he also knew they needed to get to sleep. Eevie wrapped her arms around his neck, and her head fell gently to Durie’s shoulder. Across from them, Alex lay down on his makeshift bed, his eyes glued to the skylight. “I think it’s beautiful,” he mumbled. “I do too.” Was the last thing either child heard until the sun hit their eyelids the next day. -- -- -- Durie woke up, cramped and stiff in the morning. He had spent time on ships, sleeping in bunks and berths before, but never with two wriggly, precious children. However, he got up as soon as the sun rose in the sky, and went inside, checking first that his Eevie and Alex were still comfortable and warm. Then, after working out that the power was back on, he stretched a few different ways, warming up his joints for the day. Durie looked up curiously when he heard a knock on the front door of the house. Wondering who it was, he walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide enough to look out. On the Bercans’ front porch, there were two uniformed men in their thirties. One was holding a clipboard, and the other had some sort of fancy telecommunication device in his hand. “Good morning,” the man with the clipboard began, in a forced cheerful voice. “My name is Bob Waters, and this is Stephen. We are here to gather some information about last night’s power outage and how it may have affected the locals. If you could answer a few questions, that would be wonderful.” Durie relaxed. “Okay.” This could have been worse. “First, we need to know some basic details about you and your family, if that’s okay?” “I guess so.” - - - The questionnaire was completed and the two men moved on to the next house in the street. Durie turned around from watching them when he heard movement behind him. He smiled widely at his wife’s sleepy appearance as she exited the bedroom. “Good morning, sleepy-head. Did the baby keep you up last night?” This raised a smile on Mrs Bercan’s lips, and she laid a hand at the bottom of her round abdomen. “No, she - or he - was pretty still last night. How about you. You slept outside with the two little monsters but you look like you survived it pretty well.” “Without a scratch!” Durie and his wife embraced and then both of them suggested coffee at exactly the same time. They walked to the kitchen, laughing. - Four days later, Mrs Bercan was alarmed when she heard frustrated arguing coming from the office. Approaching the closed door, she heard her husband say, “You never disclosed anything about this decision. This isn’t fair!” She could hear raw fear in his voice. Something she couldn’t remember hearing before. Concerned, she opened the door and looked in. Durie was on the phone, pacing around his desk, his face wrinkled in concentration and horror at the news he had received. He was so engrossed in the call he didn’t even see her enter. “I told you why I can’t go. There needs to be a choice here.” He demanded. “No...” He hung his head, realizing he was beaten. A few seconds later he hung up the phone with a crash and kicked the leg of his desk splintering the wood. “Durie, darling, what’s the matter?” Mrs Bercan asked, her concern evident. He turned to her, realizing he wasn’t alone. “Oh, Sarah. Sorry. I-” He didn’t continue for a minute. Then he put his hands on the sides of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I’ve been conscripted. I thought I was going to get away with staying here, since I have you and the kids, but I’m afraid they found out the other day when they were surveying our area after the power outage, and they’ve not given me any room to appeal the call.” “Oh, Durie!” Sarah exclaimed in horror. “No.” He brought her into his arms for a hug, both of them seeking comfort from each other. “I know. I hate them for doing this. They don’t think we matter.” “They’re wrong.” Durie nodded silently. - Durie tried again and again to have the summons revoked, with no results. He begged and promised and prayed, but the law was unfeeling and unbendable. On the day he was to be taken to the Navy headquarters for assignment, a straight-backed Navy recruitment officer arrived with two other officers to back up him up. Both of the children were at school. Durie had been subtly, delicately, saying goodbye to them for the past week. He would have broken down on the doorstep if they had been there. Sometimes the hard way was best. “Take care of yourself, Sarah. And bubs.” He looked fondly at his wife’s baby bump, trying to ignore the little voice in his head - his subconscious thoughts - saying that he wouldn’t get to see the birth. “I will, Durie. And don’t forget to look after yourself. Make some friends. I know you’ll be in a hard group, since you were conscripted, but you can do it. I love you. I believe in you.” She kissed him, and then let him go. The officers had already walked back to their car and the horn blared, startling Durie from his pensiveness. “I love you. And the kids. Tell them I said that, okay?” “Yes.” “Goodbye.” His wife waved. Tears began to spill from her eyes, but she wiped them away immediately. In the back of his mind, the thought ‘I can’t believe this is happening... I can’t believe this is happening.’ was repeating itself, as Durie was forced to turn his back on his house and his family. His life. As he reached the car, Durie turned back, numb. He couldn’t wave, but he never appreciated his wife more than the moment he was leaving her, perhaps forever. He climbed into the car silently, watching out the window as his wife, his house, and eventually the city were left behind.