THREEMichael Delaney was born December 23, 1976, with his umbilical cord around his neck. The doctors feared he might have suffered mild hypoxia; a depreciation in his heart caused by a lack of oxygen to the brain. Because of this, he was born by caesarean.A fighter from the very beginning.

ONEThe town was never the same.Funerals were conducted two at a time, and once the dead were buried in either Railway Street or Bowen Road cemeteries, a candlelit vigil was held on the town’s Catholic School grounds. Memorial flames illuminated thousands of faces, and among them were the families of the victims, the media, and those who came out of curiosity and respect. Articles and books were written about what happened, each speculating about how the dominoes fell. No answers.Michael didn’t accept a single interview, despite handsome offers from both print and television tabloids. He moved away with his parents to a beachside town of similar proportions and prejudices as James Bridge. In their new house, a letter of sympathy from the newly elected prime minister, John Howard, and his wife, Janette, tucked away in a filing cabinet collecting dust.A year after the James Bridge massacre, 28-year-old Martin Bryant murdered 35 people and injured a further 21 at the historic Port

PART ZEROFORTY-EIGHTNot all worlds end in a crash of buildings and airplanes, in smoke and ruins and meteor showers. Some worlds come apart one humiliating crack at a time. And no matter how hard you fight, nothing can stop it. So, at the almost-end, you’re left helpless, more exhausted than you’ve ever been, questioning how it came to this. These thoughts tightened the knot in Adrian Bonner’s stomach. Some things he didn’t want answered. He studied his reflection in the blank computer screen instead, and the sigh that followed came with an almost resigned expectancy. This was his new normal.Christ, I look like death.Looking back, the cracks were obvious. The unsealed medication bottle. That pulp of vomit in the toilet bowl the flush missed. Things which looked like they were flying but were falling in secret.The smile that lasted too long. A touch that carried no weight.None of it mattered anymore. Why would it, when

FORTY-SIXThe ferry.Some of the people around Aiden stood, some sat, but all watched the water and the fish snatching low-flying dragonflies from the air. They swam amid the bags, those plastic river ghosts. Next to him a boy wore headphones; the two of them swayed with the ebb and flow of the Chao Phraya’s current. Aiden broke down against this young man’s shoulder, buckling, despite this being his weight to carry. After all, Bangkok hadn’t called to Aiden alone, though it may have seemed that way at first. Aiden came to Thailand for his boyfriend.Even after all he’s done, I still love the bastard.What a crime it is to think Danny’s worth saving. Well, fuck me then. Fuck it all.No stop, mate. Thinking that way will do you in, too.The boy with the headphones was, of course, awkward about Aiden’s tears but relented. He patted the older man’s arm, kind and tender and non-judgmental. In English, the boy lied and said everything would be okay. “Tell me what is wrong.”They drew

FORTY-FOURFebruary 30, 2018“You okay in there?” called Sue, the receptionist, over torrents of pounding rain.Her voice filtered from the door leading to the men’s bathroom. Danny didn’t think she would come any further but she did. He lifted his head from the toilet bowl, listening to her tip-toe approach, reminded then of the billy goats Gruff in the old tale from his childhood, as one by one, they journeyed up the hillside to make themselves fat, disrupting a troll in the process. Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Clip-clop. Who’s that trapping over my bridge?“I’m f-f-f-fine,” he said.Only Danny wasn’t fine. Sue’s shoes emerged under his door; flats, sensible and comfortable looking. Perfume crept into the cubicle with him. Such a foreign smell in this place.“Maybe it was too soon to come back to work, Danny.”He shifted around to sit on the porcelain seat, face in hands that refused to stop shaking. Danny contemplated using one of the mindfulness apps on his phone, breathing prompt