35
Max jogged along the road with Bonnie trotting beside him. Trot, trot, jog, jog—they were both breathless, but they kept going. Every time a car came past, Max grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled her off the road. She still had no road-sense, even after being hit by a car, but it was good to have her with him. If Max looked after her, maybe she would look after him. When the cops came to get him, she could be his guard dog.
He’d decided to go up to the forest and then on to the mountains. You could live up there—he’d seen it in movies. He could make a spear and catch fish in the river, and Bonnie could help him hunt kangaroos. Dad had told him about people finding gold in the mountains, so maybe Max could find some too. Then he could pay for all the things he had stolen, and everyone would forgive him.
But the forest was still a long way away, and he was already tired. He saw the road to the tip. Maybe he would find something useful there.
The gate to the tip was open and no one was around, so he went exploring. It was amazing what people threw out. He climbed a pile of rubbish and dragged a blanket from under some tin. He found a backpack with broken straps. Some knotted string. A rusty bike with no tyres. An old loaf of bread in a plastic bag; there were green bits on the bread, but he kept it anyway. He rode the bike around but it was slow and the wheels squeaked—it wouldn’t be good enough to take to the mountains.
Bonnie was in the garbage, pushing things around with her nose. She found a tin and started licking it, her pink tongue going in and out. Max surveyed his pile of potentially useful stuff, then checked out the weather. The clouds were thick, and fat raindrops had started to fall. It was dark and windy. The rubbish was banging and creaking. Any minute now, it was going to piss down.
Within moments, the skies opened like someone had turned on a tap. In seconds, his clothes were drenched and stuck to his skin, and he was shivering. He ran through the tip looking for somewhere out of the rain. Down the back, he found a dead animal on the ground. It had a huge festering lump instead of a face, like a zombie out of Call of Duty. Max’s legs stiffened and he couldn’t move. What if it came alive and chased him? It could eat him and suck his blood.
Suddenly his legs were working again. He raced through the tip to escape the dead animal, but he was lost and couldn’t find a hiding place.
Then he saw it again. Had it moved? Was it following him? He screamed and ran away, and then Bonnie came out of the rubbish. He ran to her, sobbing. She had blood dripping from her mouth. Had the zombies already got her? Was she turning into one too? But she was his friend; maybe he could save her. He grabbed her and tied string to her collar so she couldn’t leave him. They needed to get going. He would have to find his way out of here and walk to the mountains. They could do it. Even in the rain. On the way he could eat that loaf of bread, and when the rain stopped he could make his spear for hunting.
He pulled on the string, and the dog followed him through the tip.
36
It was close to midnight when Shane and Leon drove down from the forest. They had assisted Search and Rescue until the weather became so bad the search was called off. Shane hadn’t wanted to stop. ‘Fuck it. Let’s keep going. My boy’s out here somewhere.’ But the authorities insisted it was too dangerous to continue. Dense cloud had enveloped everything, snow falling higher up. ‘Sorry, mate,’ the coordinator had said. ‘I know you’re worried about your son, but we can’t risk people’s lives.’ For a moment there, it looked like Shane was going to hit the guy, and Leon had placed a calming hand on Shane’s bony shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything, but he felt the fight go out of Shane. They agreed to continue by themselves while the others went home. Leon had never figured Shane for a friend, and friendship wasn’t the right word for it anyway. It was more accurate to say the missing boy had bonded them.
It was freezing up in the mountains, but adrenaline and concern had driven them both on. Visibility was zero in the fog and rain, and there certainly was a high risk of getting lost, so they’d largely stayed in the car. In the forest, the cloud was so opaque that direction was meaningless and the landscape was alien. Every way you turned it looked the same: banks of mist and trees. Enough to give you vertigo. Leon couldn’t stop thinking about hypothermia.
Wendy had been on the phone several times, seeking updates. Whenever she called, Shane hung his head, his pain and anguish tangible. ‘Sorry, love. Nothing.’
Leon and Shane had tried brainstorming where Max might have gone, but Shane hadn’t taken his son up to the forest often, so there were no favourite or familiar places to which the boy might gravitate. If Max didn’t want to be found, it would be easy for him to hide; roads were everywhere, and he could have taken any one of them. All they could do was comb the edges of the wilderness, with Leon leaning out of the window, head in the rain, calling the boy’s name.
Driving back to town was slow going, the headlights bouncing off the swirling mist. Shane was quiet; Leon assumed he was thinking about arriving home empty-handed, and how devastated Wendy would be. The longer Max was missing, the lower his chances of survival, especially in conditions like this.
As they approached the outskirts of town, Leon saw the sign to the tip. ‘Maybe we should have a quick look,’ he suggested, not holding out much hope.
‘Max hates the smell of that place,’ Shane said, but he took the turn-off anyway, and drove into the yard.
The fog was even thicker down here. Leon strode between piles of rubbish, probing with his torch. He almost tripped over a dead Tasmanian devil—it had to be Miki’s poor male. Using the side of his boot, he pushed it over and saw the ulcerated mass on its face. He found a rag and dragged the corpse to the nearest garbage heap, then covered it with a sheet of tin and a few cardboard boxes. It was a burial of sorts. At least Miki wouldn’t see it when she came here with Kurt.
It didn’t take long for Leon to do a circuit of the tip, and there was no sign of Max. No kid in his right mind would come here anyway—Shane was right: the trash stank. Leon was about to return to the car when he spotted the rusty old excavator down the back, with its bucket resting on the ground. He paused. Kids liked machines; he had climbed all over them when he was a boy. He should take a quick look, just to be sure.
Close up, he flashed his torch through the window, but the glass was cloudy.
Then he pulled up short, hope shooting through him like electricity. Cloudy glass could be condensation. Maybe someone was in there. He climbed the ladder and peered in. Through the misty glass, he could just make out someone curled up on the seat.
He tried the door, but it was locked, so he yelled and knocked on the window, banging frantically with the flat of his hand. He could break the glass—but maybe he shouldn’t, machines like this were expensive.
He climbed down and sprinted to the ute, shouting, ‘Shane, come quick!’
The police were at the tip within minutes: a siren and flashing blue lights. Fergus was driving, his assistant, Ken, in the passenger seat. Leon met them at the gate while Shane waited by the excavator, pacing with anxiety and tension.
Fergus rolled down his window. ‘I’ve got the key for the excavator,’ he said. ‘Picked it up from the tip manager on the way.’
By the sheepish look on his face, Leon knew Fergus was feeling guilty about his son’s role in this drama. Good, Leon thought. Hopefully Jaden would learn a lesson and leave Max alone from now on—that was the benefit of things coming out in the open. ‘Shane’s waiting.’ Leon said. ‘He’s not happy about almost losing his son.’
The big man nodded uncomfortably. ‘I don’t blame him. Awful when your kid goes missing.’
Their eyes connected. They both knew Fergus would have to tread carefully.
Leon directed the police through the tip to the excavator where Shane hovered impatiently. By torchlight, Fergus unlocked the door of the machine and swung it open. Leon couldn’t see any movement in the cab, but there was blood. Lots of it. Fergus went to mount the steps
but Shane grasped his arm and held him back. ‘Don’t touch him, you bastard. That’s my boy. Your son did this to him.’
Before the situation could escalate, Leon pushed through. ‘Let me do it. I’m first-aid trained.’ He leaned into the frigid excavator where boy and dog were huddled together. Reaching over Bonnie, he groped Max’s neck, feeling for a pulse. The kid’s skin was cold and moist, clammy like plasticine. What if he was dead? What would they tell Wendy? Leon laid his fingers in the groove where the kid’s pulse ought to be and found a weak, thready beat. ‘He’s alive but hypothermic. We need to call the ambos. Shane, are you ready to take him?’ Leon couldn’t disentangle the boy from the dog. ‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘Bonnie has to come first—she’s on top of him.’
Scooping up the limp dog, Leon handed her down to Fergus, then lifted Max, who was all skinny limbs and felt as flaccid and absent as the dog. The boy’s clothes were wet, his lips blue.
With arms of iron, Shane reached for the gangly body of his son and clutched him firmly to his chest, a few choked sobs escaping him.
‘Ambulance is on its way,’ Ken said. ‘We’ll drive to meet them. Save some time.’
Shane carried Max to the police car and laid him inside where the heater was blasting. ‘We need to get his wet clothes off,’ he said to Fergus. ‘Got any blankets to wrap him in?’
Fergus shifted self-consciously. ‘We came down in a rush and forgot the kit.’
‘Can you get that bag Wendy threw in?’ Shane asked Leon, obviously exasperated with Fergus.
While Shane stripped the boy’s sodden gear, Leon grabbed the spare clothes. Naked, the poor kid looked even more vulnerable. Leon helped tug dry clothes onto his frozen body.
‘Get going,’ Shane instructed Fergus, settling in the back seat of the police car beside his son.
Leon said, ‘I’ll take your truck home and tell Wendy.’
Shane looked at him and nodded, the strain showing in his face—a mix of anger and fatherly love and concern. But he mouthed thank you to Leon as the police car pulled away, blue light whirling, the boy lying limp across his father’s lap.
It was almost one in the morning when Leon arrived at the vet clinic. ‘Sorry,’ he said, as Kate opened the door and ushered him inside. ‘I’d better buy a cage here for my dog.’ He laid Bonnie on the table, and Kate began her examination.
‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘These things happen.’
In the bright lights of the clinic, Leon could see his dog properly, and it didn’t look good. Bonnie was a mess. She had crusted blood all over her, and even though Leon had the heater up high all the way here, she was weak and dozy. Kate’s silence worried him. ‘She’s a good dog,’ he said, filling the void with words. He explained that Max had run away with Bonnie, then said, ‘We found them in the excavator at the tip. They kept each other alive, cuddling up.’
Kate inspected Bonnie with competent hands. She opened the dog’s mouth and pointed to a jagged gash on her tongue. ‘That’s where the blood’s coming from. She must have caught her tongue on something sharp. Lucky she didn’t cut it right off.’
‘There’s plenty of sharp stuff at the tip. She might have been licking out tins.’
‘That’s possible. She’s lost a bit of blood, but it looks worse than it is. Her main problem is hypothermia.’
Leon helped Kate set up a drip, then they shifted Bonnie onto a heating pad and placed hot water bottles around her.
After the dog was settled, Kate glanced at Leon. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, just tired.’
‘You look like the walking dead. Let’s have a hot chocolate before you go home.’
‘That would be good,’ Leon admitted. ‘I’m pretty cold.’
Kate directed him to the bathroom. ‘Why don’t you clean up while I heat some milk?’
In the mirror, Leon saw the shocked pallor of his face and the spattered blood on his cheeks, more blood on his jacket. With dampened paper towels he cleaned his face, but he couldn’t do much with his clothes.
Kate had two mugs of hot chocolate ready when he came out. She seemed so bright and clean and orderly compared to his dishevelled appearance. ‘Not much improvement,’ he said. ‘I need a serious shower.’ She smiled and handed him a mug, and they sat in the waiting room beneath the harsh lights.
Leon felt fatigue washing over him. ‘They should be at the hospital by now,’ he said. ‘I hope Max is all right. You should have seen the fog—a real pea-souper.’ He ran a hand through his hair and told Kate more about the search. She listened attentively; she was clear-eyed and vibrant, but she also seemed relaxed and at ease, so patient and thoughtful. Leon was still jittery with stress. It was helpful to debrief, good to connect with someone who actually wanted to hear him.
‘I need to know how Max is going,’ he said eventually. ‘Do you mind if I give his parents a call?’
‘Go ahead,’ Kate said. ‘I’ll check on Bonnie.’
Leon tugged his phone from his pocket and discovered he’d missed a text from Wendy. Hi Leon. Max is on a drip in hospital and being warmed up. The doctor says he’ll be fine. Thank you so much for your help. Shane and I are so grateful. Max might have died if it wasn’t for you and Bonnie. Leon felt a rush of relief, as if a mountain had been removed from his chest. When Kate came back, he read the text to her.
‘Same as your Bonnie,’ she said, smiling. ‘She’ll be fine too.’ Then she chuckled. ‘Maybe I should have been a doctor. I’d get better pay.’
Leon was embarrassed—here he was rabbiting on when maybe Kate would prefer to be home asleep. ‘I can settle my bill now, if you want,’ he offered.
She brushed it off. ‘I’m not worried about that. I’m just pleased Bonnie’s looking so much brighter.’
‘Thanks for your care.’
Kate shrugged. ‘That’s okay. It’s my job; I like helping animals. But what about you? You’re so busy saving everyone, who saves you?’
Leon was startled. Wasn’t it his job to look out for others? If he didn’t do it, who would? ‘I save myself,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that normal?’
She laughed. ‘I wish more people had that attitude.’
Leon was starting to wind down now he knew Max was safe, and Kate was an excellent conversationalist. She led him into talk about work, life in town, the footy and dogs. In the warmth of her company, Leon revived and became almost light-hearted. She was easy to talk to, so laid-back and interesting. While they chatted, she sat on the chair with her legs folded beneath her, hands wrapped around her mug, ponytail swinging as she talked, eyes sparkling even at this hour of night.
‘Which park do you work in?’ she asked.
He told her.
‘It’s pretty up there. I’ve walked some of the trails.’
‘I’ve been fixing those trails,’ he said. ‘It’s hard yakka. They give me volunteers, but it makes my job harder—a bit like herding cats. Sometimes it’s easier to do the work yourself.’
She laughed again, and the way she shifted in her chair and tipped her head back made him appreciate the smoothness of her throat. ‘We should go hiking sometime,’ she suggested. ‘I don’t mind walking on my own, but it’s good to have company.’
‘Sure. That would be great.’
When he’d finished his hot chocolate, she reached to take his cup and their hands brushed briefly. She smiled, their eyes connected, and Leon felt a part of himself turn to liquid. He should organise something with her soon. Go for a hike, like she’d said. Maybe she would like to try sea-kayaking.
He stood to go. ‘Thanks so much for everything.’
She smiled again, her face crinkling pleasantly. ‘That’s fine. I hope you’ve warmed up a bit now.’
Yes, he was definitely warmer.
37
On Tuesday, Miki was alone again. It was no surprise. Kurt was angry with her for defying him and running up to Max’s house. When she came home that day, she had expected him to explode. But not a word. Tensio
n was building inside him—that familiar humming of bees. Too many things had been left unsaid, and Kurt was not one to store things forever. He still hadn’t mentioned changing the locks. An eruption must be coming, but its timing could not be predicted.
Sitting at a table in the shop, she gazed out to the street, where clear light poured with the promise of spring. Weather like this should have made her feel positive, but loneliness descended like a cloud. How many weeks now since she had visited the forest? She missed the trees and the breathy rustling of leaves. Missed the way the light fell through the canopy. Missed the scent of the leaf litter connecting her back to the earth. But she had no regrets. Taking action to help Max had made her feel powerful.
To dispel loneliness she decided to read—maybe Wuthering Heights today; in her present mood she felt closer to Cathy than Tess or Jane Eyre. She admired Cathy’s passionate liveliness, the way she stood up for herself and announced her feelings, the strength that drove her to follow her will, no matter what others thought. There were things Miki could learn from Cathy.
But when she went to her room, her books were not on the bedside table where they belonged. They had been there last night—she had read Jane Eyre before going to sleep. That meant Kurt must have taken them this morning. Was this how he would punish her, by removing her privileges in small insidious ways?
She wondered where he might have hidden the books. He wouldn’t take them up to the forest, so they must still be here. Methodically she searched all the rooms, riffling through cupboards and drawers.
Then, in a panic, she checked the bins. He wouldn’t have thrown them out, would he? He knew how much she loved those books.
Baffled, she considered other hiding places. He could have put them in his room under the shop, or perhaps he’d stashed them in his filing cabinet where he kept everything else. The storeroom had always been inaccessible, of course—Miki’s key had never worked in that lock. And the cabinet was likely to be out-of-bounds, too; Kurt had changed all the locks. But perhaps she should at least try to open it.
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