CHIMÆRA

A CHIMÆRA comes to Glen Hartwell and starts killing people

It was the 17th of April, 2025, and so far the month had been surprisingly cold. In Victoria, April is usually the Goldilocks month, not too hot, not too cold, just right. But so far around Glen Hartwell, in the Victorian countryside, it had been a cold, wet, miserable April. However, the 17th was looking like being a respite from the cold weather, the sun was shining brightly, the birds were cheeping, or laughing in the case of kookaburras, and Ronnie and Laura Ainsworth were strolling hand in hand through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest a kilometre or so outside Glen Hartwell.

"Smell that sweet lemony aroma," said Laura, a tall, vaguely pretty brunette in her late twenties, inhaling deeply. "There must be lemon trees nearby."

"Let's have a look," said Ronnie, a tall, heavyset, dark-haired man, in his mid-thirties. "Or rather a sniff."

So Ronnie and Laura started sniffing their way through the forest until reaching a great, flowering yellow tree, which gave off the sweet lemony aroma.

"That's not a lemon tree," said Laura in surprise.

"I think that's what's called a Lemon-Scented Gum Tree," explained Ronnie, who had always had a love for botany. "It's an eucalyptus tree, but it certainly smells like a lemon tree."

"How extraordinary," said Laura, her blue eyes shining in excitement.

"Yes, isn't Mother Nature wonderful?" said Ronnie, never one to avoid a bit of purple prose to impress people.

As a kookaburra laughed, Ronnie said, "Listen to that kookaburra. Isn't its laughter infectious?"

"Yes, it is infectious," agreed Laura. Thinking: It's a pity they're so darn bland looking, all brown and white. Why can't Australia have beautiful kingfishers like other countries?

"No other kingfisher has that distinctive laughing cry," continued Ronnie. "It is also the largest kingfisher in the world."

"Really? What about the Giant Kingfisher?" asked Laura teasingly, hoping she had tripped up her husband.

"Afraid not. The so-called Giant Kingfisher is nowhere near as big as the Kookaburra. Kookaburras can grow up to forty-seven centimetres in length. That's nineteen inches in old world speak."

Trying not to look bored, Laura said, "Fascinating."

"Yes, isn't it?" enthused Ronnie, having never been able to tell when he was boring his wife.

He continued prattling on about the merits of the kookaburra over more colourful kingfishers, not even noticing when Laura laid out the faux cashmere blanket she had carried into the forest. It was only when she took the wicker basket from her husband that he snapped out of his reverie and saw what she was doing.

"This looks like as good a place as any for a picnic," said Ronnie, as though it had been his idea to stop there.

"What a wonderful idea," said Laura, having learnt that it was erasiest to always let her husband take credit for her ideas.

Sitting upon the blanket, they quickly unloaded the hamper, a cold collation of meats and cheeses, plus some quartered cheese and tomato sandwiches. Plus a thermos of tea for Laura, and another of coffee for Ronnie.

As they ate and drank, Laura and Ronnie continued to make small talk about the flora and fauna of Australia, and especially the Glen Hartwell region of the Victorian countryside.

Then, as was his wont, as soon as they had finished eating and drinking, Ronnie leant across and started nuzzling Laura's neck, trying to convince her to lie back on the faux cashmere blanket so that they could make love.

"Hold up, lover boy," teased Laura.

Not one to deny her husband the conjugal rights he no longer had by Australian law, nonetheless, Laura was reluctant to let him go all the way outside.

"Ah, come on babe, you know I always get horny straight after eating."

"So, normally we do it on the sofa in the lounge room at home ... where nobody can see us."

"Nobody can see us now," protested Ronnie, nibbling Laura's neck a little lower, to give him an excuse to undo the top two buttons on her orange cardigan and blue and green floral blouse.

"No, but someone could come along," protested Laura, knowing that she was losing the battle to stay clothed.

As a kookaburra laughed at them, Ronnie said, "No one will see us except that kookie bloke, and he's not telling anyone."

As Ronnie pulled Laura over onto her back on the blanket, she conceded defeat and allowed her husband to slowly, lovingly undress her, then start kissing and nibbling her breasts, before continuing down to her bellybutton, then on down to her vagina, where he took her to the brink of orgasm, before suddenly stopping.

"Oh, God no! Don't leave me hanging!" cried Laura.

Knowing that he had won the battle, Ronnie hurriedly undressed and then mounted his wife, riding her wildly, with Laura's reserve completely gone now. Wrapping her long legs around her husband, she pulled him deep into her body, and started shrieking in delight as they fucked wildly rather than making love.

When they had finished, both were exhausted, and both were glowing from sexual satisfaction.

Somewhere nearby, a kookaburra laughed, seeming at their performance, and Laura said, "Oh, you shut up, big mouth!"

No longer caring about being observed, Laura snuggled up to Ronnie and soon they fell asleep. When they awakened ninety minutes later, the warmth of sex had faded, and they were both shivering from the cold.

"Time to get dressed, darling," said Laura, stopping at the sound of a goat bleating nearby. To Ronnie, she asked, "Did you hear that? It sounded like a goat bleating?"

"Yes, there's a goat farm outside Glen Hartwell. Todd Haversham runs it to provide Halal meat for G.H.'s growing Muslim community."

"Well, it sounds like one of Todd's flock, or whatever you have with goats, has escaped."

As she spoke, the bushes in front of where they lay started to rustle, and a large goat's head suddenly appeared and baaed at them.

"Can I tell a goat when I hear one?" asked Ronnie.

"It seems rather tall for a goat? Aren't they usually quite small?"

"Yes, but an old man Billy goat might be quite some height."

"Based upon the long, curving horns, it seems to be an old man Billy goat, still, it seems to be over a hundred centimetres tall."

Noticing that she was right, Ronnie said, "Maybe it's standing on something?"

Then the Chimæra stepped out of the bush to reveal itself in its entirety.

"What the Hell?" asked Ronnie.



The creature had the head and body of a lion, with a goat's neck and head protruding from its back, and its tail was a hissing snake.

"It can't be possible," said Laura.

Turning to face them, the lion's head roared at them, even as the snake head hissed, and the goat head bleated! Then the lion's head exhaled a great blast of fire, which enveloped Ronnie, but fell short of Laura.

Screaming, Ronnie danced around, foolishly trying to pat the flames out.

Laura grabbed the thermos of now stone cold tea and hurled it over her husband, then did the same with the coffee. However, the flames burnt with a preternatural fierceness, not even flickering as the tea, then coffee, landed upon them.

Screaming hysterically, still patting at himself with his now burning hands, Ronnie started running wildly deeper in the forest, setting on fire the fallen gum leaves and pine needles that blanketed the forest floor.

"Roll on the ground! Roll on the ground!" shouted Laura, chasing after the love of her life.

However, Ronnie was too frenzied to listen to her and too close to death already to be able to put the flames out.

"Roll on the ground! Roll on the ground!" shouted Laura again.

Behind her, the lion's head roared again, then exhaled another great burst of flames, which enveloped Laura.

As her husband fell to the ground, already dead, soon to be reduced to cinders, Laura jumped onto the ground and started rolling left then right, in the desperate hope of extinguishing the supernatural flames. However, all she did was set the pine needles and gum leaves on fire, which acted as an accelerant to help her own flames burn ever more furiously.

In only minutes, both Ronnie and Laura had been reduced to cinders, and gradually the fires around them went out. But not before destroying most of a sweet-smelling Lemon-Scent Gum Tree, plus numerous shrubs.

Roaring one last time, in satisfaction, the Chimæra turned and almost strolled into the nearby forestland, the goat head bleating, while the snake head hissed.


Over at the Yellow House on Rochester Road, in Merridale, they were just sitting down for lunch at 1:00 o'clock.

"What bonza tucker have you got for us today, Mrs. M.?" asked Sheila Bennett. A Goth chick with black-and-orange-striped hair, Sheila was in her mid-thirties and the second in command of the local police department.

"Lamb sə(r)ˈprīz," said Deidre Morton. In her sixties, Deidre owned the Yellow House, so named because she was obsessed with the colour yellow, with which the house and furnishings were coloured, inside and out.

"Really, what's the surprieze?" asked Terri Scott. A tall, attractive ash blonde, Terri was the top cop of the area and was engaged to Colin.

"She forgot to put any lamb in it," joked Tommy Turner. A retiree, Tommy was short and chubby, with shoulder-length blond hair.

"I think that's what passes for humour with Tommy," guessed Colin Klein. A tall, redheaded Englishman, Colin had worked for thirty years as a London crime reporter before moving to Australia and joining the Glen Hartwell Police Force.

"Although he will laugh at almost anything," said Natasha Lipzing, a tall, thin, grey-haired lady in her early seventies. "So, it's difficult to tell."

"I've heard him laughing hysterically at a toilet flushing extra loudly," teased Freddy Kingston. Also a retiree, Freddy was tall and stout, with a Larry Fine-style ruff of curly black hair on his otherwise bald head.

"Hey, don't be sarky!" said Tommy.

"Yes," agreed Leo Laxman, a tall, black Jamaican, now employed as a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, "I'm sure it was a very funny toilet flushing!"

"Oh, now everyone's against me!"

"Ah, never mind," said Deidre Morton, although she had trouble hiding her own amusement, "I'll get you your lunchtime tot of rum, that'll cheer you up."

"Darn right," said Tommy, a forcibly reforming alcoholic -- due to Deidre having found and locked away his hidden stash.

They had finished their Lamb sə(r)ˈprīz and had just started their sweet rice pudding, complete with a sprinkling of raisins, when Terri's mobile phone rang.

"Oh, why do they have to ring while we're still eating?" complained Sheila.

"I thought you said you were a cop 24/7 and always ready to answer the call of the public?" teased Leo.

"When did I ever say that?" lied Sheila.

"During that Johnny No Face business," said Tommy. [See my story, 'Johnny No Face'.]

"I don't remember that," lied the Goth chick.

"You do know lying is a sin, Sheila," teased Natasha Lipzing.

"I never lie."

"That's what you say, Pinocchioa!" teased Tommy.

"I think I can see her nose growing," teased Leo, making everyone, except Sheila, laugh.

"Very funny," said Sheila, just managing to resist the urge to touch the end of her nose.

Disconnecting, Terri said, "That was Hermione Meldon, the local fire chief. They were out fighting some spot fires outside Glen Hartwell, and they've found a blanket and picnic gear, plus two suspicious-looking piles of ashes."

"How can piles of ashes look suspicious?" demanded Tommy.

"Well, there is no sign of the picnickers, other than their clothes, and the two piles of ashes are close-ish to the blanket and picnic stuff."

"So they stripped off to have a picnic?" asked Sheila as the three cops got up from the dining table. "Then, somehow got reduced to ashes?"

"That's about the size of it," agreed Terri as they headed outside to get into Terri's police-blue Lexus.


When they reached the fire scene, they found that the fire, although relatively small, was proving surprisingly difficult to put out.

"What's the prob.?" asked Sheila.

"It seems remarkably hot," said Hermione, a tall Amazonian brunette. "I'm starting to think it's vapourising the water and separating it into hydrogen and oxygen, which it's burning individually."

"Can fire do that?" asked Terri.

"If it's hot enough," said Colin.

"I've already rung through to the firehouse for the other trucks to come out and bring fire-retardant foam with them." She turned off the hose, deciding the water was only making things worse."

"So where are the picnic stuff and the suspicious looking piles of ashes?" asked Sheila.

"Down there aways," said Hermione, pointing.

A few minutes later, Colin and Terri were examining the suspicious looking piles of ashes, while Sheila checked out the blanket, with the picnic basket, and two sets of clothing on it.

"By the looks of it, a man and a woman," said the Goth chick.

Picking through the ashes, Colin found tiny slivers of gold:

"I think these might be all that's left of their wedding rings."

"This is where Miss Marbles is supposed to tell us who they were, based upon the clothing and the blanket," teased Terri.

"Well," said Sheila, ignoring the sarcasm, "the faux cashmere blanket looks a lot like one owned by Ronnie and Laura Ainsworth."

"Oh, now she's making it up!" insisted Colin.

"Yeah, we've got her for sure this time," agreed Terri.

"Well, we can go and check," suggested Sheila, "Ronnie and Laura live at 24 Providence Street, Glen Hartwell."

"She must be making it up," said Colin, less confidently than before.

"I know my citizenry," said Sheila with a smirk, as she picked up the blanket, clothing, and wicker basket to put them into the boot of the Lexus.

Just over forty minutes later, they were parked outside 24 Providence Street, a yellow brick, two-bedroom villa house. After knocking on the door for five minutes without a reply, they went next door to 26, where a pink-haired old lady answered the door.

"Mrs. Myers," greeted Sheila. "We were wondering if Laura and Ronnie are at home. No one's answering the door."

"Oh, no," said the old lady, "they went out for a picnic lunch into the forest."

"Carrying this blanket?" asked Sheila after getting it from the boot of the car.

"Why, yes, how did you get that, Sheila?"

"Official business, can't say," said the Goth chick.

As they headed back to the Lexus, Terri said, "If she smirks, I'm kicking her in the bum."

"I wouldn't dare, Chief," said Sheila, laughing, then running to get into the driver's seat before Terri could carry out her threat.

They headed around to the Mitchell Street Police Station to put the blanket and other things into the evidence cupboard.

As they headed back to the door of the station, Sheila said to Suzette Cummings (an eighteen-year-old raven-haired woman) and Paul Bell (a tall, thin, dark-haired sergeant), "If two naked people turn up looking for their clothes, they're in there."

"Sheils!" said Terri. "Sometimes you show incredibly bad taste."

When they arrived back at the death scene, they found that although still burning, Hermione Meldon and her team were starting to get on top of the intense fires, spraying foam onto the fires from five or six metres away. They also found Jesus, Tilly, and Elvis trying to make sense out of the two piles of ashes.

"Well, I'm buggered if I know?" said Jesus Costello, the administrator and chief surgeon at the local hospital.

"They could be human ashes," said Tilly Lombstrom, an attractive fifty-something brunette, and Jesus's second in command.

"But they would have had to burn almost impossibly intensely to be reduced to such fine ashes," said Jerry 'Elvis' Green, nicknamed due to his long, black sideburns.

"Like in a crematorium," said Tilly. "Except I doubt there's one out here in the forest anywhere."

"Could someone have hidden a secret crematorium somewhere?" asked Sheila.

"Sheils, a crematorium would puff out more black smoke than a whole flotilla of steam trains," said Jesus.

"Do you have flotillas of steam trains?" asked Terri.

After a while, Jesus signalled for Derek Armstrong and Cheryl Pritchard, the two most senior paramedics in the area, to come forward and scrape up the two piles of ashes into two metal buckets.

"It's just like a day at the beach, isn't it?" said Sheila.

"Sheils!" said Derek, shocked. Although the tall, black American man had been dating Sheila for about a year now, he still had trouble understanding her sense of humour at times.


Leslie, Monique, and their five-year-old daughter, Tuesday Timberlake, had just arrived in the forest a few miles outside East Merridale, in their white, blue-striped Winnebago Bondi 4s campervan.

"You can't beat a good ole Winnebago," said Leslie, a tall, athletic outdoorsy type, who only ever drove American brands.

"Yes, Leslie, you've told us," said Monique, Moni, a tall, pretty blonde. Then, under her breath to Tuesday, "Only about a million times already."

Mother and daughter giggled, drawing a sharp look from Les, who suspected it was at his expense.

"Something tells me I don't want to know what that is all about," said Les, making his two girls giggle again.

As they unpacked, he started to pull down the awning tent attached to the side of the Winnebago, saying, "Who wants to sleep outside in the tent?"

"Not me!" said Moni and Tuesday together.

"Oh, I see, so my two girls are ganging up on me again," said Les, making Moni and Tuesday giggle again. Then to Moni, "Well, it'll cramp our style, babe, but I guess the three of us can snuggle up together inside the Winnebago at night."

"Good idea, honey," said Moni.

"Good hidea, Dad," agreed Tuesday, a beautiful blonde who looked more like her namesake, Tuesday Weld, than either of her parents.

Despite boasting of his camping prowess, it took Leslie nearly forty minutes to get the awning down and securely set in place. Not helped by his 'two girls' giggling at his trials and tribulations.

Finally, they were ready to have an early tea. With tea for Moni, Pepsi Max for Tuesday, and a stubby of Melbourne Bitter for Leslie.

"Why does daddy get beer, when we honely get dis?" asked Tuesday.

"Because Daddy worked his behind off to set up the awning tent, while his two girls kept putting him off by giggling," said Les, taking a bite out of a chicken leg.

"Hoe, hi see," said Tuesday, starting to giggle, and setting her mother off too.

"They're still laughing at me," said Les, pretending to be angry.

Only making his two girls giggle even harder.

"Sorry, honey, we've both got the giggles," apologised Moni.

After eating and drinking, Leslie Timberlake took a pale blue Frisbee out of the Winnebago and asked, "Who wants to play Frisbee."

"Me!" shouted Moni and Tuesday as one.

"Go long!" called Les.

Monique did as instructed, but little Tuesday, not knowing what 'go long' meant, stayed close to her father.

"Go long means go away from Daddy, so he can throw the Frisbee to you," explained Moni.

"Hoe!" said Tuesday, running to do as instructed.

"Here comes a hard one," said Leslie.

He tossed the Frisbee diagonally up into the air, putting lots of backspin on it, so that when little Tuesday went running after it, it suddenly reversed direction and headed back to Leslie.

"Told you it was a hard one," smirked Les, reaching down to pick up the blue disk, which had landed at his feet. However, the blonde girl had reversed direction to chase the Frisbee, and just before her father could pick it up, she stamped her right foot on it, saying:

"No, my Frisbee!"

Grabbing the disk, she ran back to her place and tossed the Frisbee as hard as she could into the air.

Like her father's throw, Tuesday's throw sent the Frisbee high into the air, bouncing it off a blue gum tree, startling a Koala as the disk almost hit it.

"Whoops I halmost killed a cola bear," said Tuesday. She ran to pick up the Frisbee, as the Koala raced higher up the blue gum.

"It's a koala, and they're not bears. Besides, the Bears changed their name to the Lions, " said Moni, referring to her beloved Brisbane Lions Football Club.

"I knew I should never have married a Brisbane girl," teased Leslie. "Barracking for Brisbane when you live in Victoria."

"The Lions incorporate Fitzroy, a former Melbourne-based team," said Moni.

"Gobbled them up more like it," teased Leslie.

"Gwobble them up," agreed Tuesday.

"Honey, you're not supposed to side with Daddy against Mummy," said Moni. "We girls have to stick together and giggle at Daddy's expense."

"Gwiggle at Daddy's expense," agreed the little girl, catching her mother by surprise by throwing the Frisbee at her.

"Hey!" cried Moni, missing the Frisbee, then having to run after it.

In the forest, she was surprised to find signs of recent burning, including two small gum trees, barely more than saplings, which were completely charred and had fallen to the forest floor. Forgetting the game, she walked across to touch one of the charred saplings, but pulled her hand away before making contact.

"Still hot," said the blonde, surprised. "I didn't know we had had any bush fires around East Merridale lately? Or at all this summer for that matter?"


"What's happened to your Mummy?" asked Leslie, thinking out loud.

"Mum, Dad says, what's happened to you!" shouted young Tuesday.

"I'll be there in a sec!" called back Monique, and she soon appeared with the Frisbee, which she tossed gently to her daughter.

Catching the Frisbee, the little girl tossed it hard at her father.

"Hey, steady on, Super Girl," teased Les, "we're not at war, honey, we're just playing a game."

"Just pwaying," agreed Tuesday.

When the little girl started to tire, they decided to call it a night, and as they were walking back to the Winnebago, Moni told Les about the burning in the forest earlier.

"That's strange," agreed Les as they climbed into the campervan, "there haven't been any bush fires around here since early last year."

"That's what I thought."

"Hey, don't watch," said Tuesday, as she started to change into her pyjamas.

"Sorry," apologised her parents, covering their eyes as she changed.

They were soon all asleep, but a few hours later, they were awakened by what sounded like a lion roaring.

"What was dat?" asked young Tuesday, sounding terrified.

"It sounded like a lion?" said Monique, trying to see her husband in the dark.

As the roaring came louder and closer, Leslie said, "I'm certain it's a lion. Just be grateful it can't get us in here. It must have escaped from a safari park."

"Are there any safari parks this side of Melbourne?" asked Moni.

"Darned if I know," said Les, careful not to curse in front of his daughter.


Outside the Winnebago, the Chimæra sniffed at the air with its lion head, while its snake head's forked tongue flitted out smelling the air. It knew the smell of humans, but at first couldn't work out where they were. Then, hearing movement inside the campervan, the creature walked into the awning tent and sniffed at the side door to the van.

Even through the metal door, the Chimæra could smell the humans inside the vehicle. It soon sniffed out that there was a man, a woman, and a child inside. Hoping to bring them out, the monster roared again, while its snake head hissed, and its goat head bleated.

Frustrated that the humans would hide inside, the Chimæra walked back out into the forest, then exhaled its fiery breath onto the awning tent, which burst into flames.

As the awning burst into flames, the inside of the van was suddenly heated up.


"What the Hell is going on?" cried Leslie, forgetting not to cuss in front of his daughter.

"Oh, my God, the awning is on fire!" screamed Monique, making Tuesday burst into tears.

"We've got to get outta here!" cried Leslie. He opened the side door of the Winnebago, only to have a gust of night wind blow the radiant fire inside the campervan to start burning the bedding, and the Timberlakes alike.

"Shut the door!" screamed Moni, too late.

Realising that he and his wife were doomed, Leslie opened one of the windows of the campervan and threw little Tuesday out into the forest, whispering, "Run away, so the lion doesn't see you."

Terrified, some of her hair burnt away, the little girl ran into the forest, heading in the general direction of East Merridale, as behind her the campervan had become a raging inferno, cooking Monique and Leslie, then turning them and the inside of the van into ashes.

Ashes within melted scrap metal, that had not long ago been a Winnebago!

Outside the van, the Chimæra watched on, grinning an almost human grin of delight. Even its snake head grinned in satisfaction, and its goat head had stopped bleating long enough to grin at the fiery demise of the Timberlakes.

Unaware that the little girl had escaped the inferno.


It was nearly breakfast time at the Yellow House in Merridale when Terri Scott's mobile phone blared, waking her and Colin, who lay cuddled up to her.

She spoke on the phone for a few minutes, then said to Colin, "That was Stanlee Dempsey doing night duty at Mitchell Street. He says little Tuesday Timberlake has been picked up wandering in a daze through Adelaide Street, in East Merridale."

"We'd better get out there," said Colin, reluctantly getting up and starting to put on his uniform.

"He says he called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital. So we'd better head there."

Hammering on the bedroom wall, Terri shouted, "Time to get up, mad Goth Chick!"

"Is it brekkie time already?" called back Sheila.

"No time for brekkie, we have another emergency."

"But I don't function well on an empty stomach."

They called out what had happened, and Sheila jumped out of bed to start dressing.


Forty-five minutes later, they arrived at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, pulling in just behind the ambulance carrying Tuesday Timberlake.

"What's happened to the little tyke?" Sheila asked Derek.

"Damned if I know, but she's got pretty bad burns on the top of her head."

They followed the ambulance crew inside, although it would be hours before they could talk to the little blonde girl.

They were still waiting when breakfast came round, and to Sheila's delight, the breakfast lady gave them each a couple of sandwiches, plus some orange juice.

"Thank goodness," said Sheila, before starting to wolf down her sandwiches.

They had just finished eating when Terri's mobile rang again.

Terri listened for a moment, then disconnected and said, "That was Hermione. They've put out the last fires outside Glen Hartwell, but new fires have started up outside East Merridale."

"That's where Tuesday turned up," said Colin Klein.

"Yes, and rather cryptically, Hermione said they've found what could be the remains of the Timberlakes' Winnebago."

"That is cryptic," said Colin.

After considering for a moment, Terri said, "You wait here, honey, for Tuesday to wake up. The mad Goth chick and I will go check out the Winnebago's remains."

"Great idea," said Colin and Sheila.


"Yeech!" said Sheila fifty minutes later as they stood over the melted Winnebago.

"How do you know this was the Timberlakes' Winnebago?" asked Terri.

Hermione pointed to the rear of the melted campervan, saying, "About the only recognisable thing is the rear number plate, XZY 123. I'm pretty sure that's the Timberlakes' plate number. I've seen them camping out in it often enough."

"Fair enough," said Terri, although she used her mobile phone to link into the police computer to trace the number. Disconnecting, she said, "Yep, that's their number."

"Which means their remains are probably amongst the ashes inside," said Sheila, "since they didn't reach East Merridale with little Tuesday."

As before, an ambulance came with Tilly Lombstrom to collect the ashes (as far as they could be located) of Leslie and Monique Timberlake.

Later in the day they returned to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital to talk to young Tuesday Timberlake.

She started by telling about the game of Frisbee, and scaring the Hell out of the koala, then about Moni finding a section of forest that had been incinerated. Then, after a pause, she told about them waking up and hearing a lion roaring.

"A lion, you're sure?" asked Colin Klein.

"Certaindy," said Tuesday. "Den the awing outside started on fire."

"Awing?" asked Terri.

"The tent awing."

"Oh, you mean the awning tent."

"Yes. Den Daddy hopened the door to excape, but da fire whooshed into the van, setting heverything on fire."

"How did you escape the fire, honey?" asked Sheila.

"Daddy hopened a window an trew me out, then told me to wace back to town."

As they left the hospital, Sheila said, "So either we've got a lion on the loose, plus a pyromaniac ...?"

"Or we've got a lion that can start fires," Colin finished for her.

"Maybe it's time to see our witchy friend?" suggested Terri.

"Magnolia McCready!" said Sheila and Colin together.


Magnolia McCready, a tall, busty redhead with electric-blue eyes, sat in the front room of 1/21 Calhoun Street, Glen Hartwell, after handing around cups of iced tea and chocolate cupcakes.

"So what can I do for you this time?" asked Magnolia.

"What do you know about lions that start fires?" asked Sheila bluntly.

"Huh?" asked the Wiccan.

In eight or ten minutes, Terri filled her in on everything that had been happening out in the local forests recently.

"Um," said Magnolia. She took a large bite of a chocolate cupcake and chewed it slowly while considering.

Beside her on the carpet lay her huge, white Tom cat, Timmikins, watching her cupcake with interest. After a moment, it sneaked around in front of her, leapt up onto her knee, snatched the cupcake, then jumped down and raced into the kitchen to devour its stolen prize.

"You little catbag!" cried the Wiccan. "That's a cross between a cat and a ratbag. So, let me think ... hmm, sounds to me you're dealing possibly with a Chimæra. A fire-breathing, three-headed monster with one head of a lion, one of a snake, and another of a goat. It has lion claws in front and goat legs behind, and a long snake tail."

"Yeech," said Sheila. "Why do our monsters keep getting weirder and weirder?"

"Come on, you wouldn't want to face the same old monsters again and again?" teased Colin. "One vampire after another for instance."

"At least we'd just need the same old stake and a mallet to take care of them all," said the Goth chick.

"Actually, now I come to think of it," said Terri, "Hermione Meldon did say something about thinking she'd heard a goat bleating while she was fighting fires earlier."

"Well, there you are," said Magnolia. "Problem solved."

"Not until you tell us how to kill this Chimæra creature."

"In Greek mythology, the Chimæra could be killed by clever strategy. Bellerophon, a great hero, who slew the Chimæra, used a spear tipped with lead to lodge it in the Chimæra's throat. Then, when the monster tried to breathe fire, the lead melted, blocking its airway and causing it to asphyxiate."

"That sounds like it's right up my alley," said Sheila, "as the spear throwing, boomerang throwing, and arrow shooting champion of the Glen Hartwell Police Force."

"I don't know which is worse," said Terri, "when she boasts ..."

"Or when she's right in her boasts," Colin finished for her.

"Ah, you're just jealous, you two weakling, non-sporting types."

"You do realise that I'm you're superior officer?" asked Terri.

"You two weakling, non-sporting types, marm," corrected Sheila. "Still, if you were to start coming to the Muscle-Up Gym with me, Cheryl, and Derek every Saturday, in a few years' time you'd be fit and healthy."

"A few years?" asked Terri.

"We are fit and healthy," insisted Colin, "just not health nuts like you, Derek, and Cheryl."

"Weaklings!" taunted Sheila.

"So, two important things," said the Wiccan, "firstly, you need to get some lead-tipped spears made up ..."

"And secondly?" asked Terri.

"A hundred smackeroonies for the consultation," said Magnolia, holding out her right hand.

"Yeah, we know, Wiccans gotta live too," said Terri , as she handed across a hundred dollars.

After leaving Calhoun Street, Terri arranged to have alerts sent around to all the neighbouring towns about a lion on the loose in the forest, to keep everyone safely in the towns.

"No need to mention the lion has a goat's head coming out it back, or a snake for a tail," said Terri.

"Or that it breathes fire," finished Colin.

"Yeah, we want people to hide in town," said Sheila, "not lock us up in a loony bin."

"The politically correct term is psychiatric institution," teased Colin.


Over at 244 Tantamount Road in nearby Brooklyn township, Rosie and Posey McCloud were preparing tea for their son, Raymond. Posey, the younger of the two women, had submitted to IVF to get pregnant, using DNA from both of them to produce their son.

"That casserole looks delicious, honey," said Rosie. At forty-five, the tall Amazonian brunette was the 'husband' of their relationship. She gave Posey a kiss on the cheek.

"It's taken forever to slow cook," said Posey, a medium height, curvaceous blonde, ten years younger than her husband. "But nothing is too good for the two loves of my life."

Posey and Rosie took a long, lingering kiss before a loud clearing of the throat behind them told them that their pride and joy had just entered the kitchen-dining room.

"What's for dinner, Mums, I'm starving," said Ray, at ten, tall like Rosie, but fiercely blond like Posey.

"Beef casserole with steamed veggies," gushed Posey.

"Did you cook spinach for me?" asked Ray.

"Yes, honey, we know you always like shredded spinach with your tea," said Rosie.

"Did you make Feta sauce for it?" asked the boy.

"Just making it now, honey," said Posey, happy to do anything to please her two great loves. "I know you can't eat spinach without cheese sauce."

"I'll say," said Ray, bringing smiles to his two Mums' faces. Ray was their first love, each other their second. "Are there baked potatoes and baked pumpkin?"

"Of course, honey," enthused Posey.

"With gravy."

"Well, there's gravy in the casserole," said Rosie.

"But I am making you some extra gravy," assured Posey with a smile.

"Real gravy with flour, not packet gravy?"

"Yes, honey, nothing is too good for our little darling."

She went across to tweak him on the cheek, before a stern look from Ray stopped her.

"And caramel-flavoured milk?"

"Of course, darling," said Rosie. She went across to the fridge and took out a half-litre carton. She put the milk and a tall glass at Ray's place at the head of the table.

"Excellent," said Ray.

He sat at the table, waiting to be served. He had never believed in helping out with meal preparation or washing the dishes.

"Coming right up, darling," said Posey.

Then Ray's two Mums happily waited upon the boy, bringing him his meal, then Neapolitan ice cream for dessert, waiting for the boy to finish and go upstairs to watch cartoons on his forty-inch flat-screen television, before they started their own meal.

"Our pride and joy," said Posey wistfully, before starting her meal. Without extra gravy, since Ray had eaten the lot.


"So where do we get lead-tipped spears from?" asked Colin Klein after dinner as they prepared to go to the lounge room in the Yellow House.

"I've already arranged for one of the local smelters in Jedasa Road, Horry Boils -- don't laugh, that's his real name -- to make them overnight."

"I know Horace," said Sheila, "why would we laugh at his name?"

"Come off it, Sheils, " said Tommy Turner, "you're usually the first person to laugh when someone has a funny name."

"I never laugh at the names of my citizenry!" insisted the Goth chick. "I may laugh at you lot sometimes, quite often actually, but I never laugh at the citizens."

"Aren't we citizens?" asked Natasha Lipzing.

"No, you're the folks I live with, like a big extended family. So I feel free to laugh at you all anytime -- except Mrs. M., since she's the only one of you who can throw me out."


After the death of Leslie and Monique Timberlake, the Chimæra had stalked the forest outside Glen Hartwell and the neighbouring towns, looking for its next victim. However, due to the lion alert that Terri Scott had issued, no one was risking venturing outside town. Even farmers were keeping their livestock locked up and staying in their farmhouses as much as possible. Although the Chimæra preferred not to risk going into townships, in frustration, it wandered into Brooklyn township, soon after dark, starting at 246 Tantamount Road. However, after sniffing around the house for fifteen minutes or so, it realised that the house was unoccupied. So it moved on to 244. Sniffing around the house, the creature determined that there were two adult women and a male child inside.

Grinning almost humanly with all three faces, lion's, goat's, and snake's, the creature opened its lion mouth and exhaled a great burst of superhot flames at the house.


Inside, Rosie and Posey had finished eating and were doing the dishes when they noticed the house had started to overheat.

"The central heating must be playing up," said Rosie, the mechanical one in the family.

She went out back to check, only to see the Chimæra grinning evilly at her.

"What the ...?" said the brunette. She slammed the door just in time as the creature exhaled its bright flames again.

"What is it?" asked Posey.

"The lion is outside," said Rosie, knowing it sounded crazy, "and somehow it seems to be setting the house on fire."

"How could a lion set the house on fire?"

"Don't ask me," said Rosie. "We've got to save Raymond."

The two women raced upstairs to find Ray wearing headphones, playing computer games on his laptop.

"Mums, what's wrong with the eating?" demanded the blond boy, gasping in surprise as Rosie suddenly scooped him up and raced across to the bedroom window. "Hey, whatcha doin'?" he demanded.

"We have to get out before we burn to death," explained Posey, "the house is on fire."

"What?" asked Ray, still being carried.

They raced across to his window looking out onto the front yard, only to see the Chimæra standing outside, grinning demonically.

"Oh, God, there must be two of them!" cried Posey.

"Unless it's the same one that was out back a moment ago," Rosie guessed correctly.

Still carrying Ray, the Amazonian brunette raced out into the hallway, followed by Posey, to peak out their bedroom window, which looked into the back yard.

"We're doomed!" cried Posey.

"No, we're not," said Rosie. Opening the window, she stepped out onto the corrugated iron overhang, saying, "If we leap from the very edge, we can make it to the swimming pool."

"But it's empty," pointed out young Ray.

"Yes, but it's covered with a strong tarpaulin," pointed out the brunette, "so we should be able to make it." Putting down Ray, she said, "I'll help you to go first, honey, then I'll throw Ray, and then jump last."

"I don't know?" said Posey.

"Me either," said Ray.

"It's our only chance," said Rosie. Picking up Posey, she hurled her into space, shouting, "Be sure to land feet first, honey."

Screaming in terror, Posey was unable to answer. In fact, she landed seated on the tarpaulin and bounced up and down a couple of times as though it were a trampoline.

Her heart tom-tomming in her chest, Posey climbed off the tarp. seconds before Rosie hurled a screaming Raymond at the tarpaulin. The boy also landed backside first and bounced off the tarpaulin. However, Posey managed to catch him, and they both fell over backwards onto the grass.

"Geronimo ... and Cochise too!" shouted Rosie before leaping off the overhang.

Seconds later, the three McClouds were huddled together on the grass just beyond the covered swimming pool.

"Let's get outta here, before that thing realises we escaped!" said Rosie, leading her wife and son toward the gate, into a small lane running behind the house.


Around the front of the house, the Chimæra started to sense that something had gone wrong. The house was well alight, so no one should have been able to get out alive, yet the creature realised that somehow its intended victims had escaped the conflagration. As alarms started blaring, and gawkers started to come out of their houses, the monster raced back up Tantamount Street to 246, then beyond into the forest outside Brooklyn Township.

Fortunately, the McClouds had gone the other way and did not encounter the beast as they ran to safety, finally stopping to catch their breaths, before risking returning to Tantamount Street.

After tentatively looking back up the street, Rosie said, "I think they're putting out the house."

"Can we go back then, Mum?" asked Raymond, hopefully.

"You two stay here," advised the brunette. "I'll go check, and if it's safe, I'll call to you."

"Okay," whispered Posey, cuddling Ray so hard that she was almost strangling him.

"Mum, ease up a bit," pleaded the blond boy.

Up at 244, Rosie found Hermione Meldon and six other firefighters spraying foam onto the outside of the house, having arrived before the flames had spread inside. Beside them stood Terri, Colin, Sheila, and Paul Bell. Going across to the four cops, Rosie related her story, which Paul recorded on his mobile phone. Then, remembering her loved ones, Rosie called back toward Posey and Ray:

"You can come up here now!"

"I'll go get them," volunteered Sheila, getting behind the wheel of the Lexus.

"Well, if this lion thing has started venturing into towns now," said Terri, "the sooner we take care of it, the better."


The next morning, after an early breakfast, Terri, Colin, and Sheila headed around to Horace Boils' smelting works in Jedasa Road, Glen Hartwell, pleased to find him already at work. They had paid for the lead-tipped spears and were carrying them out of the smelting works, when they heard the whur-whur-whur of helicopter rotors.

"That can't be Jenny and Babs?" asked Sheila, referring to two friends of theirs in the R.A.A.F.

"You're right, it isn't," teased Terri, "it's Louie Pascall. He's gonna help us scan the forestlands to find this lion with a snake for a tail and a goat's head sticking out of its back."

"Say what?" asked Horry in astonishment.

"Nothing," lied Terri.

When the chopper landed, seeing the spears, Louie said, "Terri, you and Colin will have to carry them, sticking through the windows, in the back, while Sheila and I are in the front."

"How'll I throw them?" asked the Goth chick.

"We'll have to land, then you approach the Chimæra ..." began Terri.

"Not too close, or you'll get turned into toast," advised Colin.

"Then you have to throw one of the spears straight into its windpipe," finished Terri Scott.

"Easy Peasy," said Sheila, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded.

"Have you been practising?" asked Louie.

"As much as possible, but we didn't have the lead-tipped spears till just now."

"If you don't want to try it, we'll find some other way to kill the bloody thing," offered Terri.

"No, no, it's my duty to try to protect the people of BeauLarkin through to Willamby," said Sheila. Then more quietly, "But if it kills me, someone else will have to try with the other spears."

They remained silent, no one knowing what to say.

Over the rest of that day, and most of the next, they scoured the forests around Glen Hartwell and the other towns, without any luck. Then, late on the second day, Louie Pascall pointed to his right, saying:

"Looks like a lion running through that grove of Silver Dollar Gums!"

He pointed to a collection of gum trees with beautiful silvery foliage, giving the false impression of a snowy forest.

"Does it have a goat growing out of its back?" asked Colin.

"A what?" asked Louie, thinking Colin was joking.

"You heard him," said Terri.

Louie took the chopper down lower, to see and said, "Jesus, so it does! And a snake growing out of its tail!"

"That's what we're hunting for," said Sheila, "it's called a Chimæra."

Hearing the whur-whur-whur of the helicopter overhead, the Chimæra started to lope flat out, however, Louie managed to keep pace with it.

"Try to get ahead of it," said Sheila. "I've got to throw a spear into its throat."

"Okey dokey," said Louie, accelerating the chopper until the Chimæra was soon trailing them.

When they reached a clearing, Sheila said, "Try to land at least a hundred metres ahead of it. That'll give me a few throws at it."

"We've got eight spears," pointed out Colin as the chopper started to land.

After they had landed, the three cops got out and headed back toward the Chimæra. Terri and Colin carried seven of the spears between them, Sheila only one.

"Burn up our people, will you!" cried Sheila.

She hurled the first spear, which fell well short.

Puzzled, the Chimæra advanced and sniffed at the spear, then looked up and roared at the Goth chick, before releasing a burst of fire from its mouth.

The three cops leapt to the ground, however, the flames fell well short of them.

Hurrying back to her feet, Sheila grabbed a spear from Colin and threw it at the slowly advancing beast. This time, the spear made the distance but missed the creature by nearly two metres.

"Too wide," said Terri, handing another spear to the Goth chick.

"I know," said Sheila. She tried to aim more carefully, and this time the spear landed a few centimetres in front of the Chimæra.

Puzzled, the creature sniffed this new spear, then started advancing again.

The next two spears also missed the creature, before the sixth one hit the creature in the back, hurting it badly. The lion head roared in rage, the goat head bleated hysterically, and the snake head spun around to hiss at Sheila.

"Two more to go," said Colin, trying not to panic the Goth chick.

"Yes, I think I'm starting to get my aim," said Sheila.

She hurled the seventh spear just as the Chimæra started to shoot out flames, which might have reached the policewoman.

Except that the spear flew straight into the creature's throat!

Unable to stop the fiery exhalation, the creature started to gag as the lead tip of the spear melted in the flames, blocking its airway. Clearly in distress with its goat head and snake head now coughing also, the Chimæra fought for breath until, finally, it ran out of air and collapsed onto the bed of dried pine needles and gum leaves blanketing the forest floor.

"Bet you can't throw the last spear into the goat head's neck," teased Colin, handing the eighth spear to the Goth chick.

"Betcha I can," said Sheila.

Taking the final spear, she aimed it carefully, then threw it straight as an arrow into the goat head's throat. However, the creature was already dead and showed no emotion.

"Who's the spear-throwing champion of Glen Hartwell now?" cried Sheila, more than a little light-headed from relief at still being alive.

"You are!" cried Terri, Colin, and Louie, all racing across to hug the Goth chick.



THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia