Land of Fences

by Mark Smith

  When I’m finished, she shifts on Yogi’s back and looks out towards the point. ‘See,’ she says. ‘Everything is going to change.’

  ‘We don’t know that. There was nothing about Sileys.’

  ‘That’s worse,’ she says. ‘It means Sileys are still slaves. They’ll hunt me down.’

  ‘They might not be able to do that. We don’t even know how many people have survived in Wentworth.’

  ‘We know how many have survived in Longley. And who do you think they’re going to put in charge there? Ramage or Tusker?’

  I don’t know what to say.

  Her voice is tired, resigned. ‘They’re going to rely on people who know the country, the ones who’ve kept the farms going—and the ones who’ve got experience hunting Sileys. Wilders.’

  I don’t let on, but what she says makes sense. They probably can’t afford to be choosy about who they put in charge of the satellite towns.

  ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s go home.’ I reach my hand up to her. She looks at me for a few seconds then pulls me up behind her. She nudges Yogi again and we ride towards the river mouth, then along the bank where it cuts through the dunes. I hold her loosely around the waist. Her back is wet with perspiration.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she says so quietly I can’t tell whether she’s talking to me or to herself. ‘Finn?’

  ‘You mean what are we going to do?’ I say. ‘What we’ve always done: sit tight, keep watch, be ready to run if we have to.’

  ‘You’ve got no reason to run. They’re not going to try to capture you. You’ll be a hero—the boy that survived for three years. They’ll love that story.’

  ‘And what if it’s Ramage or Tusker who come looking? I don’t reckon they’re going to call me a hero.’

  We reach the paddock halfway up Parker Street where I buried the Wilder, the one Rose killed. Kas swings her leg over Yogi’s neck and drops to her feet. I slide off and Kas undoes the bridle. There’s no need to tie him up or fence him in; he knows there’s feed here and that Kas isn’t far away.

  ‘I’m so tired,’ Kas says, leaning into me. ‘Can we spare the water for a bath?’

  We’ve had some good downpours through the summer so the tanks are well stocked. ‘Sure,’ I say, happy to have something else to talk about. It’s almost dark by the time we walk through to the house. The smell of garlic and abalone hangs in the kitchen. There’s no sign of Ray, which isn’t unusual—he goes to bed early. Rowdy stirs on his blanket in the corner, gets to his feet and stretches.

  We fill all the pots we have with water and put them on the stove to heat. Ray is confident we’ve got enough gas to last for years if we use it wisely.

  Kas runs a little cold water into the bath and I bring the pots in one by one. It’s not very hot and it only allows for a shallow bath but once a month we treat ourselves like this, when our skin is crusty with dry salt and our hair is matted like rope. We usually take it in turns, topping up with warm water in between. But tonight Kas takes my hand when I go to leave. She pulls me close and undresses me, then peels her own clothes off. I sit behind her in the bath and she leans back into my arms.

  ‘Wash my hair?’ she asks.

  We have bars of laundry soap Dad used to sell at the hardware. They’re a foot long and you can cut off whatever size you need. It’s pretty harsh stuff but it cleans well.

  I take one of the pots and pour water over Kas’s head while she leans forward. Then I go to work with the soap, pushing my fingers into her scalp and pulling them through the knots.

  Kas moans, low and soft.

  The smell of the soap begins to replace her hair’s usual musty odour. I rinse it again and again.

  ‘Do you ever wish…’ she says

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘That you could stop time—hold it for a while so you don’t have to worry about what the future holds?’

  ‘I don’t want to stop time. I want to go back in time,’ I say.

  ‘Back to when? What would you do?’

  ‘Back to before the virus,’ I say, ‘when I lived with Mum and Dad. I’d tell them every day that I loved them. I’d spend more time with them. I’d slow down instead of always rushing.’

  She stays quiet for a while then.

  ‘What about you,’ I ask. ‘What would you do?’

  She doesn’t hesitate. ‘I’d go back to the day Rose and I got separated at Swan’s Marsh, when we escaped from Ramage. I’d wait where she told me.’ She hugs her arms to her chest and rests her head on her knees. ‘I should have been there for her. I shouldn’t have left her. I could have looked out for her. Everything that happened to her was my fault.’

  I rest my forehead against her back. ‘No, it wasn’t, Kas. None of it was your fault.’

  I climb out of the bath, dry myself and pass the towel to her. Her eyes are rimmed with tears. She stands up and I wrap her in the towel. ‘Come on,’ I say. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

  We’ve been sleeping together most of the summer. It happened more by necessity at the start—we had to make space for Ray, which meant me giving up my room. I could’ve slept on the couch but Kas wouldn’t let me. We were spending so much time together, the nights just seemed like an extension of the days. Still, it felt weird, almost like we knew each other too well—we’d argued and made up a hundred times, fought and survived the Wilders.

  We found condoms all over town—in bathrooms and under beds. They were the last things people were thinking of when they took off to escape the virus.

  The first time was amazing and scary and exciting all at the same time. The last two years had forced us to be suspicious of everyone, and I don’t think either of us knew how to let our defences down completely. But experience had taught us that of all the people left in the world, this person here was the one we could trust the most.

  The sound is unmistakable—a whistle. High pitched. Human.

  We’re in the backyard, skinning rabbits. Rowdy cocks his ears and growls. Kas and I swing around and look at Ray, who’s standing on the porch. ‘That way,’ he says, pointing towards the river.

  We push the rabbits back into our hunting bag and scan the backyard for anything that might give us away. The shed door creaks in the wind. I shut it and follow Ray and Kas into the house. We pull down blinds and close windows. Then we sit and wait at the kitchen table.

  The whistle comes again. It sounds different this time, twisted by the wind.

  ‘What’d you think?’ Kas says.

  ‘I think we should check it out,’ I say.

  Ray takes hold of Rowdy by the collar to stop him following. ‘Be careful,’ he says. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

  I open the back door a fraction and check the yard. It’s clear. We stick to the cover of the trees behind the houses leading down to the river.

  ‘We should have brought the rifle,’ Kas says.

  ‘We’re only checking it out, remember. We’re not going to give ourselves away.’

  At the last house, we leave the trees and make a dash for the low fence that faces the river. Clumps of moonah trees dot the open area along the bank where the Wilders camped last year. Everything looks normal. There’s no sign of anyone.

  ‘They might’ve moved on—passed through like the drifters last spring,’ I say. But I barely get the words out when Kas grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

  ‘I saw something,’ she says. ‘Behind the trees to the right.’

  We have our backs to the fence when the whistle comes again, closer this time. I climb to my knees and chance a look over the top. She’s right, there’s something moving behind the trees. Something big.

  The whistle comes again. Then, ‘Finn? Kas?’ It’s a girl’s voice.

  Daymu appears from behind the trees, followed by JT, who’s leading Black Bess by the reins. They wave and stagger towards us. We run across the road and pull up short of them. They look exhausted, thin and covered in cuts and scratches. JT has a bandage tied around his hea
d and blood seeps through above his ear. Daymu leans heavily on a stick.

  ‘Is there anyone else with you?’ I ask, looking back towards the shops. I’m happy to see them but instinct makes me cautious.

  ‘No,’ JT says. ‘We’re on our own.’

  ‘You’re not being followed?’

  ‘No.’

  Kas helps Daymu while I loop JT’s arm around my shoulder to support him. We make our way slowly up the street to the front of our place. Black Bess follows. I call to Ray when we reach the backyard and he comes out to help. We get Daymu and JT inside and sit them at the table.

  ‘Jesus,’ Ray says. ‘You two look like you’ve been through the wars.’

  JT and Daymu stare at him. I do the introductions. JT can only nod his head. ‘You got any food?’ he asks, his voice strained.

  We’ve got some leftover stew from last night. Ray heats it on the stove. Daymu stares at the flame. ‘Gas,’ I say, and she half-smiles.

  ‘What’s happened to you?’ Kas asks. ‘Where are the others? Did you escape?’

  Ray interrupts. ‘Food first.’

  ‘Yeah,’ JT says. ‘Food would be good.’

  ‘There’s not much here,’ Ray says. ‘Just leftovers, but we’ll have a proper meal later.’

  They eat, hunched over their bowls and slurping loudly. Daymu apologises. ‘We haven’t had proper food in ages. Just berries and mushrooms we found along the way.’

  They’ve been living rough. Their clothes are matted in dirt and sweat and their hands are almost black. Both have grass and twigs in their hair and their lips are a mess of sores. JT leans back and burps loudly, which makes us all laugh.

  Kas has been watching them closely, too. ‘Let’s get you two cleaned up,’ she says. ‘Finn, hot water. Ray, bandages and antiseptic cream. I’m going to run the bath.’

  Daymu and JT hold hands while we work around them. I put the water on to heat and head out into the yard to find Black Bess. She’s grazing on the grass at the base of the water tank. I lead her through to Yogi’s paddock. They check each other out before going back to eating.

  In the house, Kas and Daymu are in the bathroom with the door shut. After a few minutes Kas calls me to bring warm water. Daymu is hunched over in the bath and there are bruises all over her shoulders and back. Kas takes the pot and shoos me out the door.

  JT is still at the table, his chin resting in his hands. ‘It’s so good to see you,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think we were going to make it.’

  Ray stands behind him and puts his hand on JT’s shoulder. ‘There’s plenty of time, son. Don’t knock yourself out.’

  ‘You have to hear what’s happened,’ he says, turning to me. ‘We’re safe here for the time being, but…’

  ‘So you were followed?’ I ask.

  ‘No, we weren’t. But even if we were, that’d be the least of our problems.’

  Kas sticks her head out of the bathroom. ‘Don’t start without me,’ she says.

  Daymu emerges then, wrapped in a towel. She limps heavily and supports herself against the doorframe. ‘It’s only a sprained ankle,’ she says. Kas shepherds her into our room. When they come out Daymu is wearing some of Kas’s clothes and her ankle is bandaged.

  ‘You’re next,’ Kas says to JT. ‘But I’m guessing you won’t want me to help you in there.’ She smiles.

  JT struggles to his feet. ‘I haven’t had a bath in two years,’ he says. ‘But I reckon I can look after myself.’

  Half an hour later we are all sitting at the kitchen table. Daymu and JT look a little better now that they’re clean and they’ve had something to eat. The cut above JT’s ear has been washed. There’s a chunk of hair missing and the scalp shows through. He touches the wound with his fingertips and winces.

  It’s mid-afternoon by now. Ray has two rabbits cooking in a big pot on the stove. Their gamey smell fills the house. Daymu’s eyes wander around the kitchen, taking it all in. ‘No wonder you wanted to get back here,’ she says. ‘Can’t believe you’ve got gas.’

  ‘What happened after we left the No-landers’ farm,’ I ask.

  Kas and I escaped with Hope from the No-landers’ farm last spring. We didn’t want any part of their guerilla war with the Wilders. Tahir was dangerous and unpredictable.

  JT looks around the room, as though he’s trying to get the details in order before starting. ‘Tahir was fuming,’ he says, finally. ‘He tried to get a shot at you when you took off, but Danka stood in front of him and he ended up shooting into the air.’

  ‘Danka!’ Kas says. ‘Is she okay? Where is she?’

  ‘I’ll get to that,’ JT says, but something in his voice tells us the news isn’t good.

  ‘The hunting party returned later that morning. Tahir had herded all of us into the machinery shed and locked the door. We were prisoners again. We heard them arguing in the yard, fighting among themselves. There was a gap in the wall where the iron had rusted through. Tahir was screaming at Afa and Kaylo, the two No-landers he accused of letting you escape. Afa backed off but Kaylo gave as good as he got. But he was unarmed. He pushed Tahir too far.’ JT breaks off and looks to Daymu.

  ‘Tahir shot him,’ she says. ‘Just like that.’ She snaps her fingers.

  ‘You mean he killed him?’ Kas’s eyes are wide.

  Daymu nods.

  Kas and I can add this to the list of things we’re responsible for.

  JT continues. ‘Even Tahir seemed shocked at what he’d done. It was one thing to kill Wilders, but Kaylo was a No-lander, like him.

  ‘In the afternoon, we smelled smoke and meat cooking. After dark, the door was unlocked and Gabriel told us all to come out into the yard. We’d seen what happen to Kaylo, so we were shit-scared. All the No-landers were in Tahir’s house and Gabriel took us inside. Tahir sat at the head of the table. It was covered with plates of kangaroo meat. The atmosphere was weird, like nothing had happened that afternoon. Afa sat off to the side, and everyone was eyeing the food.’

  The mention of food reminds Ray to check on the stew. He takes a knife and starts to break up the rabbits.

  ‘What happened then?’ Kas asks.

  ‘We ate,’ Daymu says. ‘We didn’t feel good about it but we were starving and most us hadn’t tasted meat in months. Tahir encouraged us, moving around the table and boasting about how he’d provide as much food as we wanted if we stayed with him. I hate to say it but, right then, I didn’t care what I had to do to stay fed. I reckon most of us felt the same way.’

  ‘He was bribing you,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, and we knew it,’ JT says. ‘I looked at Danka. She nodded her head and kept eating. Whatever happened from there on, we’d need our strength.’

  ‘There’s no shame in that,’ Ray says, standing in front of the stove.

  JT continues. ‘Tahir gave this big speech about how everyone had to work together—Sileys, No-landers and the feedstore kids. But he said there was only one way that was going to happen—we’d have to fight. He talked about organising raiding parties to steal food from the farms around Longley, hitting them at night then retreating to the valley.’

  ‘He made it sound almost attractive,’ Daymu says. ‘You know what he’s like, with all his talk about bravery and having to stand up for ourselves. But then his voice changed. His smile disappeared and he started talking about discipline, like we were some sort of army. And he warned us about what would happen if anyone broke his rules. He didn’t mention Kaylo but we all knew what he meant.’

  Ray has lined up the bowls on the bench by the stove and now he ladles the thick stew into them. Daymu and JT break off their story to watch. They remind me of how Harry and the valley farmers looked after last winter when they’d worked for the Wilders—drawn and lean and hungry. There’s so much more we need to know, but for now they’ve got to regain their strength.

  I light two candles and set them on the table. The kitchen seems to close in around us, the little buds of light reflecting in the windows.

/>   There’ll be no leftovers this time. We eat until we’re full. Ray sits at the head of the table. ‘We don’t want to press you too hard,’ he says to JT and Daymu. ‘But we need to know if we’re safe here, at least for the time being. Can you tell us any more?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ JT says.

  ‘Me too,’ Daymu says. ‘And thanks for the food. Kas told us you were a great cook.’

  ‘What happened after the meal in Tahir’s house?’ Ray asks.

  ‘The next few days were spent organising work parties for the farm,’ Daymu says. ‘But it was pretty clear we’d be doing all the work. In the meantime, the No-landers hunted and kept us supplied with meat. They didn’t lock us up at night anymore—and we had more food—but we still felt like prisoners.’

  ‘How long did this go on?’ Kas asks.

  ‘A couple of months, I reckon,’ JT says. ‘Tahir hardly came out of his house. Gabriel was different, though. He never let on, but I got the feeling he was turning against Tahir. A few times we heard arguments, shouting and swearing.’

  ‘How did you two escape?’ Kas asks.

  ‘We had a burst of hot weather—too hot to work in the paddocks,’ JT says. ‘We were lying around in the shed when we heard shots coming from the valley entrance. Before we could move, the door slid shut and we were locked in again.’

  ‘There were about a dozen Wilders,’ Daymu says, ‘led by Tusker. The No-landers took off up the ridge into the forest. They left us for dead.’

  Daymu bites her lip then continues. ‘The Wilders found us easily enough. Herded us out into the yard. Tusker had this big leering grin on his face. He kept asking about you, Kas. He was so pissed off you weren’t there.’

  A little shudder passes through Kas and she squeezes her hands tight between her knees.

  ‘It was bad enough we’d been caught again,’ Daymu continues, ‘but we hadn’t heard the worst of it.’

  ‘The worst of it?’ I say. ‘What could be worse?’

  Daymu looks at Kas. ‘Have you heard what’s been happening in Wentworth? And Longley?’ she says.

  ‘You mean the coordination zones? The satellite towns?’ Kas says, her voice flat. She tells them about the broadcast on the radio.