by J. P. Pomare
‘Where is she?’ he screamed at me.
I told him I didn’t know.
He struck my cheek, so swift and hard it almost knocked me over.
He asked me again. ‘Where is she?’
‘She must have run away,’ I said.
He turned to Indigo. ‘Have you checked everywhere? The Hole? The Shed? The minders’ quarters?’
She nodded. I could see a vein pulsing in Adam’s temple. I was so scared. I knew he was going to hurt us all.
The cicadas screamed. The sun was so hot I could feel it burning my arms but he made us stand there.
‘Why is it no one noticed Asha was missing?’ Adam demanded.
Silence.
‘Someone knows. One of you let evil invade your brain. Your thoughts are evil and Adrienne will be very disappointed. I’m going to find out who let this happen, but we don’t have time now – first we have to find Asha.’
Adam made us crawl under the Great Hall and the minders’ quarters. He made us check the perimeter of the Clearing.
By the time we had finished searching, trucks had rolled down into the Clearing with dogs in their trays. Tamsin and Indigo were there along with others – men I had seen before.
Adam pointed at me and Anton. He told us that we were the eldest and were responsible for our brothers and sisters. He gave us three hours in which to find her. For every hour beyond that, he said, we would spend a day in the Shed being realigned. I couldn’t suppress a gasp. A single day in the Shed is enough to break anyone. When we are locked in that room with him it’s as close to hell as anyone will find on earth.
Adam took his keys from his belt. He placed the inch-long knife between his fingers and held it up. I braced for the blow to the ribs, but it didn’t come.
‘Three hours,’ he said.
As the men with the trucks unloaded their dogs, Adam told us all that the Devil had our sister now. The Devil is everywhere that God is not. The Devil had entered her mind and he was controlling her.
We filed into the bush following Adam in the lead, tracking Asha’s boot prints through the scrub. Then we spread out in a line; we must never lose sight of those to our left and right, Adam told us. Indigo was close to me, a white dog pulling her along as though it was stronger than her, even though Indigo is bigger than Adam and almost as big as my brother Anton. I could see that the dog made her nervous. She was watching it, rather than looking out into the bush like the rest of us.
We lost the trail early on, but then the dogs caught hold of Asha’s scent and they led us deeper into the bush until we found more boot prints.
I scanned the bush desperately; I wanted to be the one to find her. Maybe I could protect her from Adam. Maybe I could stop what was coming.
Before he found Adrienne, Adam was a surgeon, a powerful doctor with incredible healing powers. Adrienne showed us a newspaper clipping about him once; about how he’d saved a girl. He was the first doctor in Australia to successfully transplant a liver in a child. Then he left his job and went travelling, and he started to take the magic bullets. When he returned, he was different. He met Adrienne, his spiritual leader. Together they were touched by God and they learnt their gifts. They learnt of their mission on earth.
I wonder what it would be like to be a surgeon; to cut someone open, repair them, then sew them back together again, healed.
We walked for hours. After a while out there, everything always ends up looking the same, but there are small landmarks that make it easier to remember where you are. Like the river.
It’s all brown and low right now, but sometimes when it has rained a lot it grows stronger and higher. I could hear it trickling. I looked down below the rock face, through the trees, to the opposite riverbank. I wondered what was over there. Then I saw something. A building. A house.
A house … just like the one Asha once lived in. A house across the river, out there in the bush. I thought about the story from the Bible about Eve’s apple. How she plucked it. The original sin.
In the Bible, God is crafty, he tests people, he surprises them, he changes his mind. That house could be my test. I could fixate on it or block it out, pretend I didn’t see it.
Adam yelled and it ripped through the bush. The noise startled a flock of galahs into flight. It almost sounded like he was in pain, like he was being attacked.
I knew then that someone had found her. We ran, drawing together around her. God had returned the child. The punishment was yet to come. A washy grey feeling filled my chest.
I was angry like the other children at what Asha had put us through. It was her fault we had spent hours out there in the bush, in the heat. Part of me wanted to hurt her. That meanness inside was swelling, all angry red and full of pus. The meanness was hot in my chest.
One of the men carried Asha back to the Clearing. She was hardly moving at all.
Annabelle told me Asha had been caught because God plucked her up and turned her around. She was walking the wrong way. She was walking back towards us.
As the sun began to set they took Asha directly to the Shed while the rest of us lined up. I could barely stand and my mouth was as dry as dust. When we heard the splash come from the steps of the Great Hall, we all knew what was coming.
Question: If the world outside is so awful, why was Asha trying to return to it?
A – The Devil had her, and the Devil was using her to fool me.
B – She was sent to bring about our end.
C – It’s not so bad out there.
The Cooler floated between Indigo and Tamsin towards us. They set it down, water splashing over the edge.
Anton moved closer, so our shoulders touched. He was scared, I think. He was always so tall and strong, so brave, but now he seemed fearful. A scream came from the Shed. Cockatoos rose from a tree, first just one beating across the Clearing, crying out like it was on fire, then two, three, four others flew over us. They looked like white petals floating in the sea.
Blisters had filled my boots with sticky pus. My head was all hot and my face was burnt from the sun. I had insect bites up my arms and on my legs.
The men left with the dogs. Then Adam brought Asha out. She was kicking like a demon.
He set her down right in front of the Cooler. It was clear the Devil had her by the way she kicked and screamed. Adam told us that we had let this happen, so we must be the ones to exorcise her.
The younger children were excused, and they went back to the Great Hall. There were just five of us left.
Adam pointed at Alice and then at Asha, kneeling in front of the Cooler with Tamsin and Indigo holding her in place.
Alice stepped forwards, as stiff as the scarecrow in our garden.
This part hurts the most to remember. This part is hardest for me to write.
‘Now,’ Adam said.
Alice pressed Asha’s face into the water. Asha squirmed and twisted her head. Alice was not pressing firmly enough.
Adam told her to press harder.
Alice bit her lip then pushed until Asha’s head was under the water. I could see that Alice was crying, but she didn’t stop.
At first Asha became still. She was faking unconsciousness. Then she began to fight. Water churning, splashing. The girl’s head slamming against the steel base of the Cooler.
‘Enough,’ Adam said.
Alice released her grip. Asha sucked in a few long breaths then collapsed in the hard dirt.
‘Thank you, Alice, for doing God’s work,’ Adam said. ‘Dry off and go to class now. Alex, you’re next.’
Alex is pale and small-boned. He had recovered from fainting but looked exhausted. He swallowed and did not lift his eyes up from the dirt as he walked over to the Cooler. He was always the fastest at morning sprints. He also once had his hand crushed in a doorframe for disobedience but it has mostly healed now.
Asha lay wet and still on the ground. Adam gave the command and Alex did not hesitate. Cathy and Indigo lifted Asha into place and he pushed her he
ad under.
As the realignment continued, Adam changed. He seemed happier. He was in control. He stood up tall and proud like a soldier. By the time it was Anton’s turn, Asha was exhausted. Anton stepped forwards, but instead of squatting down and putting his big hands on the back of the girl’s head, he dropped to his knees.
Adam’s voice was as hard and sharp as a broken bottle. He asked what Anton was doing. Anton just rolled up his sleeves, held his arms behind his back and lowered his face to the water.
‘Adrienne would not want this; this is not her teaching,’ Anton said.
Adam strode over, drew his foot back and swung it so hard his boot hit the side of Anton’s head with a crack that echoed across the Clearing. Anton fell, knocking over the Cooler, and the water ran out.
Indigo rushed off to refill it. While she was gone Adam kept kicking Anton, in the chest, the stomach, the back.
This was the first time I had seen someone openly defy Adam. I was scared for Anton. I knew it would be bad. I didn’t know if I should be angry or proud or scared. I know what he did was wrong, but it was also brave. It was brave to stand up to Adam.
Indigo returned.
The three minders positioned Anton’s head over the water, with his arms behind his back. Anton was drowsy now; strings of blood and snot hung from his face. Adam plunged Anton’s head into the water with both hands. Anton revived briefly, but there was no point in fighting. Four adults held him in place.
When they were done, they dragged Anton off to the Shed for further realignment.
On their return, the minders hauled Asha back into place over the Cooler. It was my turn.
My stomach was turning inside me and my arms and legs felt numb with fatigue. I couldn’t do it. I knew I couldn’t. But Adam was watching closely. It was either me or her.
How had they found Asha?
How did they know she was one of us?
If she was sent by God, why did she want to leave?
Deviant thoughts flooded me. I stepped closer. Then I did what he told me to do. It felt righteous. It felt necessary. But, still, it hurt to do. I pressed her under. Then, when Adam told me to stop, I stepped back so he could come forwards and dunk her again. She had no time to catch her breath. He made me watch as he dunked her again and again until she stopped moving altogether.
So, back to my question: which is worse?
A – Keeping a secret from your mother.
B – Looking away when someone does something wrong.
C – Causing pain to another human and enjoying it.
D – Doing something horrible because someone told you to.
I’ve done them all in the last few weeks. But at least I can make one right. I can tell Adrienne what Adam did to me that night. Has he purged any of my sisters? I think about Asha again now.
What would have happened if we didn’t find her in the bush? Would she have ended up at the house? I wonder who lives there. I wonder if they know how close we are.
PART FOUR
MISSING
FREYA
Thirty-two minutes missing
‘WE HAVE A report of a missing child,’ says the stout policeman with a curved nose like a beak.
‘He’s not missing,’ I say, my voice frantic. ‘He’s been abducted. Someone has taken him.’
My child is gone; history repeats. The officer had introduced himself as Sergeant Corbett, and with him, the other officer with the small black eyes is Constable Trioli. Everything goes slower than it should. The police want to ask me questions. That’s all they’ve done since they arrived. They don’t fly off after the kidnapper, they don’t set up a perimeter, checkpoints, order a helicopter to perform an aerial search. They simply sit me down and fire questions at me.
‘So when was the last time you know you saw Billy?’
‘It was earlier today. This morning, before I dozed off. He was still asleep in bed.’
‘Any idea what time that was?’
‘I don’t know. I think it was after seven, around seven fifteen.’
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, resisting the urge to stand up and run outside to continue searching myself.
‘And Billy is seven years old, correct?’
‘Yes, he turned seven in November.’
‘And does he have any hiding spots or anywhere he goes outside?’
My eyes are damp, my mouth sour. ‘Someone took him. He’s gone.’
‘We have phoned it in,’ says Trioli. He has the unappealing trace of a moustache. ‘The best thing we can do now is narrow down the possibilities and consider every option, so it’s important for us to know about Billy. You last saw your son roughly four hours ago, correct? But you noticed him missing around noon?’
My mind is whirring. Corbett has stepped outside now and is holding his radio close to his mouth.
‘Yes,’ I say. I stare at the notepad before him, the way his hand dances across the page as he writes down my words. They’re assuming Billy will turn up at any moment; they’re assuming this is all some misunderstanding. I have a physical reaction to him, an anger burns in my chest. I eye the revolver hanging from the officer’s belt.
‘Have you got people looking for him?’ I ask.
‘We have sent out an alert, and cars are currently patrolling parks, playgrounds, main roads nearby. We must assess risk factors closely, but in situations such as this, when we have limited information, it’s best to collect information and make a plan. Billy is, after all, only seven years old. He can’t have gotten too far.’
I clear my throat, turn my gaze away. He’s right; Billy is only seven. A young seven. A defenceless seven.
I know this man Trioli – or I know his type, at least. A boy from the outer suburbs, not clever enough for uni so joined the cops. He has been instructed to take complaints seriously and investigate properly, but he has been in the job long enough to know that in situations such as this it is almost always a mix-up: a child at a friend’s house, divorced parents getting their wires crossed, a kid going off exploring. He doesn’t know what I know. He doesn’t know my history. He couldn’t possibly understand that his calculations have failed to take in one big and important factor: I am not who he thinks I am.
Corbett, I see now as he re-enters the room, has a receding hairline to go with his parrot’s nose. He’s smiling. What has he got to be happy about?
Rocky sniffs his reluctant hand.
‘Would you gentleman like a glass of water? Kombucha? Tea?’
‘We’re fine.’ Corbett lowers himself into the seat beside Trioli at the dining table.
‘Nice house,’ he says. He appears slightly older, is probably the alpha of the pair.
‘Thanks.’ I stand, flick the kettle on and lean against the bench.
‘If Billy has wandered off, we’ll want to get a search party out into the bush as soon as possible.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ I say, knowing that whoever has taken him will be far away by now.
‘Got one of those panic buttons, huh?’ he says, pointing at the red button on the wall near my wrist. I follow Corbett’s gaze. Trioli is clearly keen to push on with the procedural stuff, crossing t’s and dotting i’s, but Corbett is prepared to let the conversation wander.
‘Yes.’ And how is that related?
‘Had trouble out here?’ he asks.
‘You can never be too careful,’ I say.
Trioli looks to Corbett, but Corbett doesn’t take his eyes off me.
‘Ms Heywood, is there someone in your family that might have picked him up?’
I scratch the back of my neck. Jonas is away. Mum can barely dress herself let alone drive a car.
‘No, but I have a fair idea who might be involved. I think he has been taken by my ex.’
‘Alright,’ Trioli says. ‘That’s a good start.’
‘Wayne,’ I say. ‘It’s got to be him.’
‘Surname?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What is Wayne’s
surname?’ he annunciates each syllable without looking up from his pad.
‘Oh, ah, it’s Phillips.’
Trioli’s mouth moves as he scribbles. ‘Have you got a phone number or an address for him?’
‘On my phone,’ I say. I go to the bedroom to fetch it. When I return with my phone in my hand, I see that Rocky is resting his head on Corbett’s lap while the cop scratches between Rocky’s eyes. Turncoat.
I make my hands tremble slightly as I place the phone down before them and I make sure I’m wearing the most desperate expression I can muster.
Trioli scratches the number onto his pad.
‘I’m so scared for Billy,’ I say. ‘He wouldn’t just wander off. I know he wouldn’t.’
‘Why do you believe this man is involved?’ A current of accusation in Corbett’s voice.
‘Well,’ I begin, dragging a hand over my eyes, ‘I haven’t seen him in years and he turned up a few days ago.’
The two cops stiffen, sitting up. ‘I see,’ Trioli says.
‘And did he do or say anything to make you suspicious of him?’ Corbett again.
‘He thinks he is Billy’s father, but he’s not.’ A lie, but there is no way these two could know that.
Corbett rises, grabbing at his walkie-talkie. He steps away from the table, calls in this latest piece of information.
Trioli sets his meaty hands on the table and hunches forwards. ‘And why would he think that?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Why would Wayne believe that Billy is his son?’
I can feel myself scowling, my fingers tingling, so close to the panic button. I rearrange my face into an expression of concern, as if thinking. ‘Because, well, we spent a night together years after we broke up. We both agreed it was a mistake. But Billy wasn’t conceived that night. I didn’t become pregnant till a few months later.’
‘Right,’ says Trioli, sitting back in his chair. ‘And Billy’s biological father – is he in the picture?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It was a sperm donor.’ The lies are racking up now. Could they fact check this somehow?
