Land of Fences

by Mark Smith

  I can’t find the words to tell her how much I’ve missed her, how much I’ve ached for her. I put my arms around her and kiss her again and again. I can’t tell whether Daymu is laughing or crying, but she has pinned JT to the wall and he holds her face to his chest.

  Willow finds us and pushes into Kas.

  ‘Wils,’ Kas whispers. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Someone had to organise this rescue,’ Willow says, only half-joking.

  My chest could burst with the excitement and fear and something that might be love.

  We regroup in the corridor trying to figure the best way out.

  We’re about to move towards the door when a beam of light pierces the dark from the top of the stairs. The light bounces off the wall and I make out the heavy features of Bridget Monahan.

  ‘Can’t say I’m surprised,’ she says, the treads creaking under her weight as she descends. ‘Thought you might come looking for my girls.’

  I’ve got my hand across my face, shielding my eyes from the glare.

  Bridget tilts her head to the side. ‘You’re brave, I’ll give you that—coming into Wentworth.’ She shines the light on Willow and sees she has her bow drawn back and an arrow ready to shoot. ‘It’s okay, luv,’ she says. ‘You won’t need that.’

  There are voices outside the door and torches shine onto the ceiling. ‘Get back in there,’ Bridget says, pointing under the stairs. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘We trusted you once before, remember,’ Kas says.

  ‘That was different. That was Ramage.’

  We hesitate.

  ‘Quick,’ she whispers. ‘They’re coming.’

  I doubt we can trust her but we’ve got no other option. We crowd into the recess as Bridget walks towards the door. It opens before she gets there and more torchlight streams into the corridor.

  ‘All clear here,’ she yells, her voice filled with authority. The soldiers back away and we’re left in the quiet.

  When we climb out, Kas takes my hand. Hers is sticky with blood. She presses her face against mine. Her cheeks are wet. ‘Finn,’ she says, relief in her voice. ‘Ahh, Finn.’

  ‘How do we get out of here?’ JT’s voice snaps us back to the danger that’s all around us.

  ‘We’ve only used this one entrance,’ Kas says. ‘I don’t know any other way out.’

  ‘Can you get us back to the boning room from here?’ I ask her.

  ‘I can,’ Daymu says. ‘Follow me.’

  We sprint up the stairs and Daymu takes us through a network of corridors as our eyes adjust to the dark. In the boning room rats lick blood off the floor, hardly bothering to move as we pass under the platform to the base of the ladder. From there, we retrace our steps to the loading bay.

  The yard is empty. All the action seems to have moved out into the surrounding streets. There’s the sound of gunshots and shouting. I take the lead now, through the gates, across the road, down the alleyway and onto the river path. Kas is beside me all the way and she runs holding hands with Willow.

  The moon has risen and casts enough light for us to see the pipe across the river. We approach cautiously. Two figures appear out of the trees and step onto the path. Sarisi smiles. ‘Not such a bad plan after all, huh?’ she says.

  Ash pushes past her and stops in front of Daymu. The moonlight shines on his face and Daymu launches herself at him. He picks her up, hugging her and pushing his face into her hair.

  ‘You have to go,’ Sarisi says. ‘This side of the river is crawling with patrols.’

  ‘You’re not coming?’ I say.

  She stays silent for a few seconds. ‘There are others who need my help,’ she says. ‘Ash can get you back to the fence.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, putting my hand out for her to shake. She nods, touches the tips of my fingers with hers and moves down the line. The others whisper their thanks.

  When she reaches Ash, she says, ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’m going with Daymu,’ he says.

  They embrace, and then Sarisi melts into the dark.

  The bridge is more exposed with the moon up—the gantry is clearly lit.

  We climb the bank and wait for everyone to gather at the top. There are six of us now. That’s six chances of being spotted.

  ‘I think we should cross two at a time,’ I say. ‘They could be waiting on the other side. I’ll go first with Kas, then Willow and JT, then Ash and Daymu. Watch for the gaps. I’ll whistle if it’s safe to cross.’

  I don’t know where this plan comes from, but I hope it sounds reasonable. No one argues, so I step onto the gantry with Kas close behind. We run forty metres to the first gap, climb up onto the pipe to get around it and drop back to the gantry.

  For the first time I’m daring to think we might get away with this. The army will be occupied with chasing the escaped Sileys. If we can make it to the other side of the river and retrace our steps to the fence, who knows what’s possible? But as we land on the gantry, I make out a shape ahead of us. I barely have time to warn Kas before it stands and takes form in front of me. It’s a man, and the rifle he holds is pointed at my chest.

  ‘Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me,’ Tusker says.

  I’m frozen to the spot, gripping the rail on the side of the pipe with one hand and reaching for Kas with the other.

  Tusker steps out of the shadows and into light. He’s beaming, with all his teeth showing, and chuckling to himself. ‘Oh, you thought you were so clever,’ he says, hardly able to contain himself. ‘I’ve been following you all day. Watched you sneaking across the river like rats, so I knew you’d be back this way eventually.’ He’s close enough for me to pick out every feature, the thick scar running down the side of his face, the grizzled beard and the curl of his lip. ‘And I’m guessing the others are over there,’ he says, nudging the rifle towards the bank behind us.

  I’m blocking his view of Kas but he knows she’s there. ‘And you’ve brought my girlfriend as well,’ he says wetting his lips with his tongue. ‘Ooh, Kas.’ He draws out the s sound like a snake. ‘Have I got plans for you.’ He nudges me with the barrel of the rifle to move me aside. ‘I knew he’d lead me to you,’ he says to her.

  My hunch was right all along. We were being followed.

  ‘You know what they call me?’ he asks. ‘The other Wilders?’

  I can only shake my head. I don’t feel afraid, just angry. I’ve come this far, found Kas, beaten the odds. And now here he is again, standing in our way, trying to make me feel small and worthless.

  ‘The panther,’ he says. ‘That’s what they call me. The killer no one sees coming.’

  The anger rises and spills out my mouth. ‘Panther! You’re kidding. You’re a bag of shit, Tusker.’

  He tilts his head. ‘Then how come you didn’t see me?’ he sneers.

  Behind me I hear the creak of iron as Kas lets go of my hand and starts to back away, looking to escape. But Tusker sees her. He brings the rifle to my forehead and tells me to kneel, exposing Kas. ‘One more step, girl,’ he says, ‘and his brains will be in the river.’

  Kas says nothing, but I feel her move closer.

  ‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ he says, his voice calmer now. He takes a step backwards. ‘You, boy, are going for a swim. Stand up!’

  I’m looking for any opportunity to lunge for the rifle, but he’s put too much distance between us. My knees are shaking and I need to pull on the rail to get to my feet. ‘Good boy,’ he says. ‘Now, don’t spoil everything by trying something stupid.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to be here, are you?’ Kas says loudly. She’s trying to stall him.

  ‘The army’s losing control. It’s every man for himself,’ he says.

  ‘Losing control?’ Kas says, and I can imagine the smirk on her face. ‘You mean they’ve finally worked out what you and Ramage have been up to. You’re on the run, aren’t you?’

  ‘Enough talk,’ he shouts. ‘You’re coming with me. We�
��ve got unfinished business. I can’t wait to see you—’

  ‘And Finn?’ Kas interrupts.

  ‘Him?’ Tusker says. He spits at me. ‘He’s excess baggage.’

  He leans forward, the rifle still pointed at Kas, and grabs a handful of my hair. He’s so strong I feel like a ragdoll in his grip. He pulls me to a break in the rail and wrenches me sideways until I’m on the edge looking into the darkness below.

  There’s a moment when everything seems to slow. Faces flash through my head—Rose sitting at the table in Angowrie, Ray by the fire at his place, scratching Rowdy under the chin, Harry and Stella standing by the gate at the valley farm, cradling Hope in their arms. And Kas, wet and naked on the beach—everyone I love and care for, everyone I want to protect.

  There’s no thought to what I do, no plan—it’s an explosion of rage. My foot finds a ridge in the metal gantry and I lever myself off it, taking hold of Tusker’s belt, tilting him towards the edge. The butt of the rifle clips my shoulder, but he’s taken the weight off one foot. I pull with all my strength. And then we’re in midair, freefalling towards the water.

  The fall seems to take forever. If I was jumping in daylight, I’d know when to brace for the impact but we’re tumbling in the dark.

  I’m on top of Tusker when we finally hit with a dull oomph sound as the air is knocked out of me. Something wrenches in my shoulder but the shock of the cold water instantly dulls the pain. I have time to take one quick breath before Tusker drags me down. He thrashes his arms and legs, the weight of his clothes pulling him under. The rifle is gone. I’ve still got hold of his belt and he claws at me in his efforts to find the surface. I don’t know how far under we are, but I stay clearheaded enough to let the air out of my lungs slowly, preserving oxygen. Letting go of his belt, I kick him as hard as I can to get clear. When I’ve created some space between us I go where I know he won’t follow—deeper.

  Something hard touches my back—one of the bridge supports. There’s a ledge where I can pin my foot to hold my position. Tusker is a vague shape now, his arms reaching up like he’s climbing a ladder, but still he sinks. I can just make him out, his hair fanning wildly around his face and bubbles streaming from his nose. I wedge my foot harder under the ledge and watch him struggle.

  Eventually, he stops thrashing, his eyes wide with terror and his open mouth taking in water. His body is still upright, like he knows where the surface is, but there’s no fight left in him. He floats away in the slow current, disappearing like a ghost into the murk.

  I close my eyes but still he’s there, his lifeless stare accusing me, judging me for not saving him.

  I’m running out of oxygen and my mind drifts. I’m in the rock pool with Kas, sitting on the bottom, smiling at her as she tries to outlast me. My lungs are almost empty and now I see the sun filtering down into the pool. Kas’s legs move in a slow kicking motion towards the surface. I release my foot from the ledge and push up towards her, swimming hard.

  I’m barely aware of breaking the surface. I lie on my back and gulp at the air. The stars are out and I focus on the shimmering dots studding the sky. I could stay here forever, I think, just me and the water and the stars and the oxygen spreading through my body.

  It’s as though my ears have been blocked but gradually I become aware of voices somewhere above me. On the bridge?

  ‘Finn,’ someone calls and it sounds like they’re afraid to shout. But I’d know that voice anywhere.

  ‘What?’ I say, not even sure if it’s loud enough for Kas to hear.

  There are little yips of joy and excited voices above. ‘Can you swim to the far bank?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say but as I go to swing my shoulder over, a stabbing pain rips through it, radiating down my arm. I touch it with my hand and feel the bulge at the side of the socket where it’s dislocated. As though my body’s only now become aware of it, the pain swells and pulses. I grit my teeth and, with my injured shoulder on top, sidestroke towards the bank. It takes me ages and by the time I’m close, three figures have waded out to meet me.

  ‘Are you all right?’ JT asks, reaching for me. I scream as he pulls on my arm. ‘Shit! Sorry,’ he says.

  Finally, I feel the mud under my feet and I stagger onto the bank. Kas has her arm looped around my waist and she helps me sit down.

  ‘Tusker?’ she asks.

  I can’t find the words yet to tell her what happened. I can hardly believe it myself—or even begin to understand that he’s gone.

  ‘Where are you hurt?’ Willow asks.

  I carefully pull the T-shirt off my shoulder. The bone bulges awkwardly to the side of the socket.

  ‘Dislocated!’ JT says. He sounds almost excited. ‘Used to happen to me all the time playing football. Sometimes it’d just pop out while I was running.’

  ‘Spare me the detail,’ I say. ‘Can you put it back in?’

  ‘No problem, but it’s gonna hurt like shit.’

  ‘It hurts worse than shit, now.’

  He carefully takes my arm in both hands, bends my elbow up and pulls away from the shoulder. Then he rotates my forearm. I clench my teeth hard to stop from screaming. With a final twist and pull that shoots pain across my back and up into my neck, I feel it slide back into place. It still aches, but the pain is different—bearable.

  JT makes a sling out of my T-shirt.

  Kas sits beside me, her arm still locked around my waist.

  Daymu is higher on the bank, looking around. ‘Where to now?’ she calls.

  Ash says, ‘We have to get back to the fence. I don’t know how we’ll get through, but…’

  ‘How far is it?’ Kas asks.

  ‘If we walk through the night we could make it before sunrise. We’d have to take a direct route. It’s quicker but more dangerous.’

  ‘Sooner we get going, the better,’ JT says.

  We leave the river and jog across a huge expanse of bitumen car park. Every footfall sends a bolt of pain through my shoulder and I have to run doubled over to protect it. The signage has fallen off the building on the other side of the car park but the outline remains:

  WENTWORTH WEST COMMUNITY CENTRE.

  For the first time in days, I know where we are. The town is so different now I’ve been disorientated, but I remember this place. There used to be a market here on Sundays. I came with Mum sometimes when she volunteered on a stall for some environmental group.

  We’re halfway across when the whole area is suddenly lit. Half a dozen vehicles surround us, trapping us in their glare.

  ‘On the ground! Now!’ The order comes from somewhere to our right. We drop to our knees. Heavy boots come towards us out of the light, and strong hands pull us apart. I cry out when my shoulder is knocked.

  ‘All right, take it easy,’ one of the voices says.

  ‘Are you sure it’s him?’ a deeper voice asks.

  ‘Yeah, it’s him.’

  The motor of one of the trucks turns over and it rolls towards us. I expect us to be separated but we’re all loaded into the back. We sit along the sides in the muted light, looking into each other’s faces. Ash slumps with his head in his hands, Daymu’s arm around his shoulder. ‘We were so close,’ he says. ‘So close.’

  Two armed guards climb in behind and the truck begins to move. I feel like all the air has been pushed out of me. Muscles that have been as tight as wire let go and I hug my good arm to my chest. Kas sits opposite. She leans forward and puts her hands on my knees. She looks different—her hair is shorter, her clothes are a better fit and she’s wearing a new pair of runners. Her birthmark is lighter, or maybe her skin is darker, I can’t tell. I want to ask her what’s happened since we were captured at Devils Elbow, but for now all I have the energy to do is lean into her until our foreheads touch. She strokes my cheek with the back of her hand and I feel like I could die with the touch of it. She runs a finger along my chapped lips then kisses me softly.

  The truck crosses the river and the driver grinds throug
h the gears as we climb a hill, before swinging away to the right.

  ‘This isn’t the way to the convent,’ Kas whispers.

  Willow sits with her knees pulled up to her chest. She wraps her arms around her legs. I realise it’s the first time I’ve seen her without her bow in ages. She catches me looking and nods. ‘They took it,’ she says.

  After about ten minutes we pass through heavy steel gates that close behind us. The truck pulls up in the middle of a courtyard inside high bluestone walls. The tailgate drops and we are herded out at gunpoint. I know this place. It’s the old Wentworth jail. It was a tourist spot before the virus. We came here on an excursion in primary school once.

  The six of us huddle together. The jail is dark but torchlights approach through a metal door to the side of the yard and three soldiers walk towards us.

  ‘Which one of you is Finn Morrison?’ one asks.

  I’m so surprised to hear my name I don’t answer for a few seconds. ‘I am,’ I say finally.

  ‘Come with us.’ I feel a rifle at my back and I’m led towards the door. The others are told to wait where they are, under guard.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask but no one says anything.

  A figure appears and blocks our way. He nods and smiles. ‘G’day,’ he says.

  It’s Winston, the soldier we last saw at the No-landers camp. ‘I wanted to say thank you,’ he says.

  ‘No worries,’ I say, even more confused. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask again.

  ‘Just follow me,’ he says.

  We walk along a narrow passage between two high walls, and then into another, smaller courtyard. On the other side we enter a room lit by kero lamps. A man sits behind a solid timber desk. His uniform is clean and the stripes at the shoulders show his rank. Winston points me to a chair, salutes and leaves the room.

  The man pours a glass of water and passes it to me. I take it, spilling some as I gulp it down. My clothes are still wet from the river and my body shakes. He rises from his chair, picks up a blanket from a couch under the window and drapes it around my shoulders.

  Sitting down again he has one elbow on the desk and his chin cupped in his hand. He looks about sixty, maybe a little younger, clean-shaven and with neatly combed hair greying at the sides. He looks like anyone’s kindly grandfather. ‘I’m General Dowling,’ he says.