Eleven Reasons: The heart-wrenching sequel to Eleven Rules (The Eleven Series Book 2)

by PJ Vye

  “So far it appears to be. But there are other concerns.”

  They came to a junction and Laurence pointed right. Karina indicated, turned and the car stalled. Laurence said nothing while she restarted the car, taking several attempts before the engine turned over. A mini bus tooted and Karina waved them cheerily past.

  Laurence turned on the air vents as the rain began to stream down again in long shafts. This combined with the humidity kept the windows fogged up and difficult to see through. Karina drove on at high speed, oblivious.

  “If you struggled with your weight and you wanted to be slimmer without changing your diet, you’d take this pill, right?”

  “I guess…”

  “So you get to your ideal weight by eating large amounts of the food you like. Foods that are dense in calories and contain little nutrition, so over time you essentially become malnourished. You don’t exercise anymore because you don’t need to. It’s a recipe for a mental health epidemic. That’s what the doctors are concerned about.”

  “I can’t believe more people aren’t talking about this.”

  “We need to get this documentary made, to educate people before we start seeing an effect on our food supply and mental health systems.”

  “Worst case scenario. What happens?”

  Karina was asking all the right questions. Sunny never asked questions—unless it was related to Mataio. Sunny wasn’t interested in his work. Maybe that was why he loved being with her—she was his escape from the constant drive to make his life count.

  Laurence hesitated before answering Karina’s question. Could she handle it?

  She swerved without braking to miss yet another pothole. Probably she could handle it.

  “The first sign? The price of food will go up. Some foods will double, even triple in price. Then there’ll be demonstrations—people will demand the government do more about the rising cost of food. There’ll be more subsidies for lower income families. The availability of some items will decline, like bread and meat. Once that reaches a tipping point, some foods will be rationed. With the rationing comes panic. Within five years, civil liberties will break down into anarchy. Looting, hoarding, violence. Farms growing food to meet the demand will be invaded by hungry people from the city. Crops, animals and orchards will be destroyed in the crossfire. People will starve. Then there’ll be the eventual destruction of the planet. Turn right again here. It’s the block of apartments on the left, behind the wire fence.”

  Karina’s eyes were wide. “It’s like a Will Smith movie.” She wasn’t talking about the apartment block.

  “Remember at the height of COVID-19, when people stocked up on cans, rice, pasta—any long-life shelf items they could find? People were getting arrested in supermarkets for physically assaulting each other over a roll of toilet paper. And during COVID-19, there was no actual threat to the food industry. C2HO will be a direct threat. We will see the very worst of human kind as we fight to survive.”

  He glanced across to see if she was still listening. Her mouth sat open and her hands clenched the steering wheel.

  “I’m sorry. Was that more of an answer than you expected?” He gave her a wry smile.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” she admitted. “So, you think we’ve got five years?”

  “I thought five years. Now I’m thinking more like two.”

  “Why?”

  “They’ve predicted El Niño in the northern hemisphere again, which means another poor year of crop yields. Australia are three years into one of the worst ongoing droughts in history. We’re already short of food. So, unless they get control of the distribution of C2HO almost overnight, this will escalate much quicker than we expected.”

  “Let’s say you’re right—”

  “You doubt me?”

  She put up her hand. “If you’re right, do you think it can be reversed?”

  “Eventually, yes. But it’ll take years. People will die. Lots of people. Ironically, they’ll be no need for C2HO, because obesity-related disease will be virtually eradicated, because the only food left will be what people can grow in their back yards. Either way, it works.”

  “I hope you’re wrong,” she admitted.

  “I know it’s all a bit hard to believe.”

  “Do you think people will listen? If you make this documentary?”

  “So far, anyone with a loud voice has been quickly silenced. The pharmaceuticals are extremely motivated to make this drug a success.”

  Laurence pointed to the car park and Karina turned into Sunny’s drive, squinting through the windscreen. When she’d parked and handed Laurence the key, she said, “Well, good luck convincing the world the apocalypse is coming. Delivered by a tiny pill.”

  She gave him a smile that made him feel smart and important. Sunny had told him it was Karina’s special talent. Sunny was right. “Thanks for keeping an open mind.”

  “Well, you sure got me worried. Is there a supermarket nearby? I suddenly feel the need to hoard toilet paper.” She spoke with a serious cast to her face, but Laurence saw through it.

  “Maybe grab some rice as well.”

  “And some seeds.”

  “And some power tools. To start on the bunker.”

  “Good thinking.”

  She rested her hands on the steering wheel and made no move to get out of the car. Laurence waited, sensing she had more to say. Was she nervous to see Sunny after all this time?

  “Are you okay?” he asked eventually.

  “Brett, my fiancé, hates it when I drive. He says I’m terrible at it. I love to drive, but can’t enjoy it when he’s with me. You didn’t flinch once. You didn’t even complain when I hit that pothole.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was fishing for a compliment, or genuinely surprised at his reaction. “You’re a terrible driver. Is that better?”

  “But you didn’t—”

  “We’re lucky to be alive. But we are. So that’s something.”

  “See. You get me. Please tell that to Brett when you see him.”

  “Will I be seeing him?”

  “No,” she said, and opened her door.

  Laurence grabbed her suitcase and led the way up the stairs to the apartment. The lights were on and he wondered if she’d cooked dinner. He hadn’t spoken to her at all since last night when he left angry about her reaction to Mataio’s release. He’d slept in his car.

  Maybe he should have picked up some food first. He stopped on the landing and asked, “You hungry?”

  “Not at all.” Karina gave him a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

  “Sure,” he nodded as he turned the key and entered, despite the urge to knock first. I pay rent, damn it. He shouldn’t have to knock. He’d never met a woman who could tie him up in so many knots.

  “Sunny?” he called out. He sat Karina’s suitcase down and headed to Atali’s bedroom where he could hear movement. Odd that Atali didn’t call out at the sound of his voice. He loved the reaction he got from that little girl when she saw him. It made him feel like a superstar.

  “Atali?” He whispered a little lower. Maybe she was asleep.

  Tulula met him outside the room with her arms full of bedsheets. “Where’s Sunny?” he asked. He looked past her but the bedroom was empty.

  Tulula clicked her tongue in her usual annoying way and shook her head. “She’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  Tulula stared at Karina who waved hesitantly. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Karina. I’ve come to visit.” She looked between him and Tulula and added, “From the UK.”

  “Where is she?” A dread set in. Part of him already knew where Sunny had gone.

  “Where do you think? Taken my grandchild away, that’s where. How could you let her?” She clipped him across the head. “Did you give her money?”

  Laurence was so distracted he didn’t even react. “No. Honestly, I didn’t.”

  Karina stepped forward and offered to help with the sheets but T
ulula would have none of it. She dropped them into a basket and left them on the ground. “If you’re staying, I don’t need to pack this place up.”

  Tulula left without another word.

  Laurence fell onto the couch and began to laugh. The sound was so bitter he wasn’t sure it was actually coming from his own throat. She was gone. Why was he surprised? Of course, she went to see him. Mataio. And he wouldn’t be there to collect the pieces when Mataio rejected her, or worse, took advantage of her. He thought of Atali in the criminal’s arms, her little arms around her father’s neck like she did with Laurence, rubbing her face against his chin, nuzzling when he pulled her from the car.

  They were gone. Without his help. Without even telling him. How could she do that?

  “Laurence?”

  Shit. “Oh no, I’m so sorry Karina. Worst surprise ever.”

  “Where is she? I don’t understand.”

  “She’s gone to Australia.”

  “What?”

  “Did she tell you?”

  “No,” replied Karina, clearly confused.

  “Mat Brinn was exonerated. He didn’t kill La’ei. He’s been released.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Karina, and flopped down on the couch beside him. “She’s going back to him?”

  “Probably.”

  “My God, I’m so sorry.”

  They sat silently a moment, both sorting out their ruined plans.

  Karina spoke first. “So, you’re her boyfriend, and she didn’t even tell you she was leaving?”

  Laurence couldn’t find the words to tell her he wasn’t actually her boyfriend. “I’m sorry you’ve come all this way.”

  “Ah,” she shrugged, unaffected. “I’m in a tropical island paradise. There are worse places to be stranded without your friend.”

  “What do you think you’ll do?”

  “Not sure.” She put up her feet on the coffee table and raised her arms behind her head. “Let’s get drunk.”

  Part Three

  two years later

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sunny opened a fruit bar and passed it to Atali, making sure her back was to the service desk. Eating wasn’t allowed in the library, but she couldn’t expect her four-year-old to spend an entire afternoon here without food. Atali chomped down on it happily, completely unaware of the need to keep the food hidden. Sunny gave her a wipe to clean her fingers before she touched the book again. Her new favourite book topic was anything to do with butterflies. She’d read every butterfly book in this library and was now on the second and third borrows.

  Sunny stuffed the fruit bar wrapper in her bag and Atali returned to the reading corner where another pre-schooler sat. Atali loved to sit beside a new potential friend, watch for a while, then find a reason to talk. In a single day, she’d introduce herself several times over, make friends, play, then feel the loss when the new friend went home. Sunny felt guilty over it every single time.

  She positioned her laptop so she could see the screen and Atali, and then checked her YouTube channel. In the two years since she’d arrived in Australia, her views had rolled over into the millions. Last month’s EFT topped $35k. Sunny had learned all she could about the platform and managing her channel had grown into a full-time job. She spent hours answering comments and adding new content, aiming for a song a week, visualising the Samoan kids as she wrote them. She’d imagine what words or phrases they’d be up to and write a new song. She missed them. The smiles, the cheeky laughs, the restless arms and legs that wouldn’t sit still for long.

  Her phone rang and she called Atali over to answer it. Atali knew the drill. She stood and listened to Tulula, who spoke for a minute or more, then Atali jabbered a few words. Atali handed back the phone once she’d had enough but the call had ended. Tulula never spoke to Sunny. Not even once.

  “How you doing today?” asked the grey-haired librarian with her arms filled with paperbacks.

  “Fine thanks, Rhonda,” said Sunny as she discreetly hid the opened juice box further behind her bag.

  “Still no sign of the man you’re looking for?”

  “Not yet. You haven’t seen him again?”

  Rhonda shook her head and took a seat beside her.

  “How many days you been coming here now?”

  “This is day nine.”

  Rhonda sighed. “What a shame. He was coming in almost every day for months. Now, nothing. Maybe he moved away?”

  “Maybe.” It wasn’t the first time Sunny had lost track of Mataio.

  “Is there anywhere else you might find him?”

  “The photo is the only sighting there’s been of him since the Michael Fui trial ended and the interview aired. I don’t know where he’s living.”

  “You tried the newspaper that took the photo?”

  “Yes. And the prison. And the lawyers. They’re not allowed to say.”

  “Well, if I see him, I’ve still got your number.”

  “Thanks, Rhonda.”

  Sunny glanced over at Atali who’d curled up in a beanbag and was now sucking her thumb. She hadn’t slept well last night and probably needed a nap. As if Atali sensed her mother’s gaze, she climbed out of the beanbag and into her lap, almost too big but not quite.

  “How long you gonna do this for?” asked Rhonda.

  “As long as it takes.” Sunny stroked Atali’s hair. “Lucky she likes books.”

  Rhonda checked the room, but no-one seemed to need her. She leaned back in her chair. “I watched that Sunday Tonight program last night. The one that aired a year ago. He’s a strange kind of fella, don’t ya think?”

  Sunny had watched the same interview a million times. It’d been so long since she’d seen Mataio. He looked exactly the same, despite the prison time. His face held the same resolve. The same firmness. There was still no sign of peace or relief there. “Yeah, he’s definitely an original.”

  “If he didn’t want to be found, why do you think he did the interview?”

  “Money, I expect. He’s probably finding it hard to get a job.”

  “He’s a medical doctor.”

  “Yeah, without a licence to practice.”

  “I read his name is the third most searched in the media in the world. Second only to Trump and Prince Harry.”

  “He must be hating it.”

  “Why you need to see him so badly, dear?”

  Sunny couldn’t answer. Atali had fallen asleep and her book dropped on the ground. Rhonda bent to pick it up and placed it beside the juice box. Sunny blushed.

  “If he ever comes back in here, I’ll tell him he’s an idiot,” the librarian said, standing. “I’ll also tell him I’ve lost fifteen kilograms thanks to C2HO so it’s a double-edged sword.” Rhonda gave her a wink, and took the paperbacks to the stacking trolley.

  Sunny checked the time. Was she crazy, waiting for a man who might never come here again? What choice did she have? She had nothing. No way of finding him. She’d just have to keep coming back to the library until he showed, or he left some other clue. Or should she try the prison again? The humiliation of that episode still stung. The prison guards made her feel desperate and small. They’d known who she was, from her letters, which she assumed they’d read, but still they wouldn’t help her.

  With Atali draped half over her shoulder, she packed her bag and walked the two blocks back to her hostel. Her arms were aching by the time she reached the front gate and climbed the front stairs of the white, wooden turn-of-the-century building. The bedroom was small and they had to share a bathroom with the entire floor. In the event of a fire, she wasn’t sure anyone would make it out alive, but she’d picked it because it was close to where Mataio had been spotted by the paparazzi.

  Atali stirred as Sunny rummaged through her bag for the key to the front door. She heard it jingle, but couldn’t find it. She’d need to put Atali down before the cramp in her shoulder overtook her. She turned to find a seat when she noticed a man. He began to move out of sight, but she
recognised him in an instant. She dropped her bag on the verandah, the cramp in her arm forgotten, and ran back out the gate. “Mataio.”

  He stopped.

  Atali woke and wriggled around to face the man her mother was calling.

  Sunny watched his back, unsure if he planned to run. She tightened her arms around Atali, ready to take off after him.

  He turned, his face blank, his eyes down. “Sunny.”

  The sound of her name from his lips felt like sunshine and rain all at once. “You followed me?” she asked.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t have this conversation on the street. “Come inside.”

  He didn’t move.

  Atali struggled to be put down, curious about the man who looked a lot like her uncles. “Talofa,” she said.

  His eyes dropped to Atali as she boldly walked up to him and stretched out her arms for a hug. He ignored the gesture. “Talofa,” he said, shortly.

  Atali stretched her arms wider. Every Samoan man she’d ever known, had thrown her around like an aeroplane. Mataio just stood there, like he didn’t understand. She turned to Sunny, confused.

  Sunny approached them both and took the little girl’s hand. “Please Mataio. Come inside.”

  Sunny’s jaw was clenched so tight she felt what might be a small piece of tooth break away in her mouth. She walked back to the gate, Atali at her side. Mataio followed.

  Once they were in the lobby, she led them both to the sitting room upstairs that overlooked the front garden. The late afternoon sun streamed in, as Sunny pulled a few books from her bag and set them on the floor. She then sat in one of the armchairs, indicating for Mataio to do the same. He refused, choosing to remain standing.

  They both watched Atali as she pulled a doll from Sunny’s bag, sat her on the floor and began to read the book, making the words fit the pictures.

  “Why are you looking for me?” Mataio asked eventually.

  Sunny couldn’t think of a single answer. Could she just blurt it out? She’d imagined this moment a thousand times. Sure, she wanted Atali to know her father, but more than that, she wanted to see him. There was no romance in this moment, right now. No orchestras, no sunsets. She felt destitute and stupid. He didn’t care about her. Never had. He’d had sex with her once. The rest of her dream was built on lies.