Land of Fences

by Mark Smith

  It’s a relief when the sun finally starts to drop. The ridges give us shade a couple of hours before sunset.

  Kas climbs up towards me, moving fast.

  I’m on my feet, worried, scanning the road. ‘What is it?’ I ask.

  She rubs the lump on the back of her hand where the tracking device sits under her skin. ‘I felt it vibrate,’ she says. ‘Just now.’

  I put my hand over hers and we wait.

  Nothing.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

  ‘Definitely. What if it’s live, Finn? What if they know where we are?’

  ‘I dunno,’ I say, holding her hand tighter. ‘But we need to get started if we’re going to make Megs Creek tonight.’ We help each other down, moving as quickly as we dare on the steep ground.

  JT and Daymu are on the beach. Daymu stands in the shallows in her shorts and splashes water onto her face and arms. JT has stripped off and dived in.

  Kas runs to Daymu and I see them touch each other’s tracker. Daymu nods.

  With twilight taking hold, we load the horses and move out to the road. We’ve told JT about the trackers, and there’s urgency in everything we do. I can’t help looking behind us towards Angowrie, peering into the gloom for any sign of movement. I have a gnawing sense of something being very wrong. We’re exposed here—and we’re in a worse situation than we would’ve been if we’d stayed at home. At least there we knew where to hide.

  The road begins its steady climb into the forest. There are half a dozen hairpin bends where the trees lean in over the top of us. It’s eerie being so enclosed after the openness of the coast. We are out of the wind and every footfall of the horses is exaggerated by the stillness. We keep a steady pace until the bitumen winds back towards the clifftops. The trees give way to sheer walls of rock on the inland side and only the metal barrier separates us from the drop into the ocean on our left. According to the map, there’s five kilometres of this leading up to Cape Petrel. JT slides the rifle out of its sleeve and hangs it over his shoulder.

  ‘All together, or spread out?’ he asks.

  ‘Stay as we are, I reckon,’ Kas says. ‘But be ready to run.’

  The night drags. We walk as fast as we can but it takes forever to get to the cape. Eventually though, the roadside lookout comes into view. We round a corner and see it a couple of hundred metres ahead. I begin to breathe a little easier. JT throws me a smile and a quick nod. We’re almost there. At the tip of the cape there’s a small car park edged by a stone wall. The sea is so far below us we can’t hear it and the wind pushes up the cliff faces and across the road. We reach the car park and decide to take a quick rest, sitting with our backs to the wall and stretching our legs.

  It’s well past midnight. The moon and stars are hidden behind cloud.

  ‘No time for slacking off,’ I say.

  Kas and Daymu take their turn leading the horses, while JT and I follow behind.

  Leaving the lookout we round a tight corner before starting the descent. Daymu and Kas are ahead of us as we get to the bend.

  Suddenly, the road is flooded with light.

  The horses shy and skitter on the asphalt. We’re totally blinded but our first instinct is to turn and run. Then I hear the revving of a truck engine coming up behind us.

  Men are shouting. ‘Get down! Get down on the ground. Drop the rifle.’

  I pull Kas towards me and lie next to her. JT and Daymu are beside us. The road is covered with loose stones and they dig into my bare legs. I grab Rowdy by the collar. He’s growling and I put a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.

  I look up, shielding my eyes, but I can’t make anyone out. The truck behind us has come to a halt. The engine rumbles and whines and finally switches off, letting out a slow wheeze as everything falls silent.

  Boots edge towards us, and a knee drops onto my back, forcing my face into the road. Cable ties loop my wrists and are pulled tight. Eventually, the four of us are dragged to our feet and made to stand in a line in front of the first truck. Rowdy stays by my side and I can vaguely make out Yogi and Bess. Someone’s got their reins.

  A stooped, thick figure is silhouetted in the glare. I don’t have to hear his voice to know it’s Tusker.

  ‘I told you,’ he says, triumphant. ‘I told you I’d find you, didn’t I.’

  He comes up close to Kas and sniffs. ‘I thought you said you’d smell me coming?’ he says. ‘Well smell this.’ He grabs her by the hair and pulls her face to his chest and down to his crotch. Kas writhes, trying to head butt him but Tusker laughs.

  I lurch towards him but something heavy hits me across the head and I stumble sideways. I realise then I’m tied to JT, and he falls on top of me. I try to steady myself on the ground, but a boot comes out of the glare and kicks my arms from underneath me. My head slams into JT’s and the salty taste of blood fills my mouth.

  Kas has somehow got to her feet. She takes a few paces back from Tusker then launches herself, barreling into him. He staggers with the impact and loses his footing. She kicks wildly at him before she’s pulled away and thrown to the ground.

  When Tusker sits up he’s laughing again. ‘See, boys,’ he yells. ‘She can’t resist me!’

  He stands up and does a little jig, dancing from one foot to the other, then turns and faces the lights, his arms spread like a preacher. ‘What a great night this is,’ he says, his voice rising. ‘Revenge!’ he howls. ‘Revenge against the Sileys who brought the virus—and against the bastards who protected them.’

  Every sentence is met with cheers. I can’t tell how many men there are but it sounds like a lot.

  ‘This is the new world,’ he continues, his voice lower now. ‘We’re in charge and we’ll decide who comes into our country.’

  More cheers.

  Finally, he draws breath. ‘Kill those lights,’ he barks over his shoulder, and we’re plunged into darkness.

  Slowly our eyes adapt to the dark, and the hulking shapes of the trucks emerge. Both of them have bulldozer blades on the front. Tusker looks smaller without the glare of the lights but I can now see about a dozen men encircling us. Two of them pull Daymu to her feet, while Tusker drags Kas up by her hair. Her breath comes in short bursts. He pulls her head back so she has to look him in the face. He traces her birthmark with his fingertip and slides his other hand down the front of her T-shirt. Kas turns away but he jerks her back and tries to kiss her. I blindly throw myself at her, pulling JT with me, but Tusker steps in front of us.

  ‘Hello, hero boy,’ he snarls. ‘We meet again.’ He brings his face close enough that I can smell his acid breath. Then he leans into me and whispers, ‘She’s mine now. I’ll collect the bounty, but until I do…’

  Another man grabs me from behind. He shoves JT so my arms are wrenched sideways then grabs my ears to hold me still. Tusker pulls me over to Kas. A crooked smile twists his face. He takes a knife from his belt and sticks the point of it under my chin.

  ‘This remind you of anything?’ he asks Kas.

  ‘Don’t,’ she cries. ‘I cut you. It wasn’t him.’

  ‘Nice try, girl,’ Tusker says, ‘but we can’t have you damaged.’ He turns the knife so the blade is against my skin. I rise onto my toes, lifting my chin, but the knife follows. As he leers at Kas, Tusker slowly increases the pressure until I feel the edge begin to cut. I’m staring ahead, trying not to cry out. Blood trickles down my neck and inside my shirt.

  ‘I’m sorry, Finn,’ Kas whispers. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Enough fun for now,’ Tusker yells. ‘Huddo, put the Sileys in our truck. Gordon, the other two in yours. We’ve got a long night ahead.’

  JT and I are pulled towards the back of one of the trucks. We try to hold our ground but sharp blows to our legs keep us moving forward. Blood is dripping off my chin.

  I call out to Kas.

  ‘Finnnnnn,’ she screams before she and Daymu are dragged into the other truck.

  We’re lifted onto the tray and thrown forward
onto the metal floor. Rowdy leaps up and cringes in the far corner. Only one of the men climbs in after us. He sits opposite us, cradling a rifle. The truck lurches backwards and swings forwards as the driver turns it towards Lewtas Bay. The other truck passes us and we follow.

  A few minutes pass before JT and I manage to push ourselves up so we’re sitting back to back. I bring my chin to my shoulder to try to feel the depth of the cut. There’s blood on the floor where I was lying.

  A canvas canopy encloses the truck. It beats against the metal supports as we pick up speed. JT and I try to brace with our feet each time we turn a corner or swerve to avoid debris but we slide helplessly from side to side.

  I replay the night over and over in my mind, trying to think of what we could have done to avoid this. But every idea ends up being drowned out by the memory of Kas screaming my name. My muscles tense when I think of the way Tusker pawed at her and pushed her head into his crotch.

  I promise myself I’ll find her. I won’t give up until she’s safe. And Tusker is dead.

  Rowdy has edged out from under the seat where he’s been hiding. The Wilder doesn’t show any interest in him.

  Eventually, we reach a straighter section of road and it’s easier to hold ourselves still. The back flap is open and the night air rushes in. The clouds have cleared and there’s enough moon to see by. I try to focus on our guard. He looks familiar—youngish, with a round face and thin beard. He wears a glove on one hand.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again,’ he says.

  I’ve heard that voice before.

  ‘Col,’ he says, finally.

  It’s the Wilder who was guarding Sylvia and Hope at the Ramsay farm. He pulls a rag out of his pocket, puts it over my chin and knots it on top of my head. ‘That’s a mess,’ he says. ‘You’re lucky he didn’t slit your throat.’

  ‘Reckon we’re probably worth more alive than dead,’ I say. My voice sounds even stranger than normal with the rag forcing me to mumble.

  Col looks at me like he’s weighing up whether to tell me something. ‘Maybe. But they only pay bounties on Sileys.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘The authorities in Wentworth’ he says, his voice rising above the drone of the engine. ‘That’s where the girls’ll be going.’

  ‘When? How soon?’

  Col shakes his head. ‘Don’t do it to yourself,’ he says. ‘They’re gone. You’ll never see them again.’

  It’s not so much what he says but the way he says it—with total indifference—that worries me.

  ‘And us?’ I ask. I feel JT pushing against me, letting me know he’s listening.

  ‘There’s no sympathy for anyone hiding Sileys,’ he says.

  ‘What will happen?’ I ask.

  ‘It varies. They brought a bloke in last month, been shacked up with a Siley girl. He disappeared one night and the girl was sent to Wentworth.’

  ‘To be sold, you mean,’ I say.

  ‘They’re Sileys,’ he says, his voice harder.

  ‘Sylvia was a Siley,’ I say.

  Col seems shocked that I remember her name. He sits back and his face disappears into the shadows for a few seconds.

  ‘What happened to her?’ I ask.

  ‘We tried to run,’ he says, leaning forward again. He grinds his jaw as though he’s trying to stop the words coming out. ‘They tracked us. Took them a week, but they found us.’

  ‘Sylvia?’ I ask.

  ‘Taken to Wentworth,’ he says.

  ‘And you—?’

  He doesn’t say anything but carefully pulls the glove off his hand. Two of his fingers are missing. There are black scabs at the knuckles.

  ‘Ramage did that?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘Tusker,’ he says. ‘It’s hard to believe, but he’s worse.’

  ‘What about the army?’ I say.

  ‘All based in Wentworth. They’re not too worried how the zones are controlled, as long as the Sileys are hunted down and brought back.’

  ‘But—’ I’m trying to figure out how much power Ramage wields. ‘What’s happening in Wentworth?’

  ‘I haven’t been there,’ he says. ‘But I’ve heard they’re getting back on their feet—growing food, factories starting up again, shops opening.’ He pulls the glove back onto his hand.

  ‘What about the detention centre at Longley?’ I ask, trying to keep him talking. ‘Is that where we’re headed now?’

  He takes his time to answer. I get the impression he’s already told us more than he thinks he should have. ‘They’ll take you two there—probably go through the motions of a trial.’

  ‘A trial?’

  ‘Ramage is the regional commissioner. That makes him judge and jury,’ he says. ‘Tusker’s the executioner.’

  ‘Did you have a trial?’ I ask Col.

  ‘That’s what they called it.’

  ‘And your hand. That was the punishment?’

  He nods. ‘They need men to go on patrols, maintain their power,’ he says. ‘So they don’t kill us.’

  Things have gone to shit tonight but my brain is firing, trying to gather as much information as I can. I have to find a way to get to Kas. ‘What’s happened with the No-landers?’ I ask.

  A smile creases Col’s lips. ‘No-landers,’ he says. ‘Is that what you call them?’

  ‘That’s what they call themselves,’ JT says, leaning up against me and shuffling around so he’s looking at Col side on.

  ‘They’ve caused havoc all summer. They keep moving. They attacked two farms in two days. Thirty kilometres apart! Christ knows how they move so fast on foot.’

  I’ve seen how fast Tahir and Gabriel walk. I reckon thirty k’s would be a short stroll for them. ‘Tell us about the detention centre,’ I say.

  ‘The army set it up, left half a dozen soldiers there. A doctor comes and goes. They keep themselves separate from the rest of us— hardly come into town unless there’s a trial.’

  ‘And what about Ramage?’ I ask.

  ‘He still uses the feedstore as his base,’ he says. ‘He doesn’t let the authorities know half of what he’s doing. Even then, the soldiers don’t care, most of them. They hate being out in the zone.’

  The mention of the feedstore sends a shiver through me. I can’t bear to think of Kas being held there again. My skin crawls with the thought of what Tusker and Ramage could do to her.

  Col must see the look on my face.

  ‘Sileys are the property of the bounty hunters until payment’s made,’ he says. ‘They’ll go straight to the feedstore, then to Wentworth within a couple of days.’

  Col sounds defeated, different from the cocky bloke we met last spring. I wonder if this is what happens to everybody under Ramage—they give up and do whatever he says.

  I try for more information. ‘You know the valley farm?’ I ask. ‘Where the trouble was last year?’

  ‘What about it?’ Col says.

  ‘What’s happened to them? The farmers.’

  ‘I dunno. I haven’t heard. Not that I would—Ramage and Tusker don’t tell us anything. They’re inside the Longley zone, though, so—’

  ‘And the baby, Hope. Did you see her again?’

  ‘No. There’s no baby in Longley. I would’ve heard about that.’

  I’m exhausted from the long night of walking and bruised from the hits we copped when we were caught. Thankfully, the bleeding has stopped. JT and I roll to one side and lie down. At least we can stretch our legs this way. Rowdy pushes his nose into my face and licks at my chin. I doze on and off.

  Eventually daylight creeps into the back of the truck. It feels like we’re climbing again—the engine is labouring through the gears.

  Col gives me a nudge with his foot. ‘Not long now,’ he says. ‘We’re almost over the range.’

  JT and I struggle to a sitting position. Out the back of the canopy the forest is deep green and grey in the morning light. The truck gains speed and we lurch around corners as we descend. T
he trees give way to rolling farmland, all of it deserted.

  ‘It took them most of the summer to clear this road,’ Col says. ‘It’ll all be colonised out here soon.’

  ‘Who by?’ I say.

  A smile crosses his lips. ‘They need experienced farmers,’ he says.

  ‘So that’s why you’ve given up. Why you’re part of this.’

  There’s coldness in his stare. ‘Can I give you some advice? Don’t fight it—you’ll only lose. You might not like it but the world’s not going to change anytime soon. There aren’t enough people left to fight the good fight. You’ve gotta adapt.’

  I feel like I’ve heard this so many times over the last year. A niggling thought in the back of my mind tells me it might be right. All I’ve succeeded in doing is making powerful enemies. I’m captured and separated from Kas, and our lives mean nothing to these people.

  The sun is streaming in by the time we reach the highway. It’s warm under the canvas and the metal tray is heating up, too. There are no other vehicles on the road, but every so often we swerve to avoid some obstacle. Gateways lead to abandoned farms, their driveways lined by hedges grown wild. But as we get closer to Longley, we pass paddocks with a few cows and sheep grazing on what’s left of the dry grass, and armed guards keeping watch. When we reach the outskirts of town, we pass smaller properties with their houses close to the road. They look like working farms. The truck slows and we turn off, winding our way along a dirt track, the dust lifting and choking us. When we come to a stop, two soldiers in uniform look over the tailgate and check us out.

  ‘Two?’ one of them says to Col.

  ‘Yep,’ he replies.

  I hear a banging on the side of the truck. We move forward and high wire gates close behind us. The tailgate drops with a loud clang and Col lifts JT and me to our feet. He steadies us so we can ease down to the ground.

  ‘Good luck, boys,’ he says, before walking back in the direction of the gates. ‘And watch out for the dog. They won’t like it.’

  The sunlight is blinding. There’s no sign of the other truck with Kas and Daymu. The compound is made up of a large shed and half a dozen brick houses, all low-slung with wide verandahs. Two long buildings that look like dormitories have bars on the windows and guards at the doors.