After the Lights Go Out

by Lili Wilkinson

  No wonder you let Blythe die.

  He puts his fingers to his jaw again as he turns and heads over to Mateo’s pump.

  ‘What about afterwards? Did you go back to Hansbach?’ I ask, following him. He goes right through the rows of vegetables, crushing beans and spinach under his boots.

  He ignores me, yanking out the cable that connects the solar panel to the battery.

  ‘Dad, stop. That’s how the town gets their water.’

  ‘I offered those stupid sheeple my help, and they didn’t want it,’ he growls, roughly dismantling Mateo’s pump and battery. The plastic housing cracks under his hands as he wrenches it open.

  ‘You didn’t offer to help. You demanded they put you in charge.’

  ‘Prudence, you’re not listening,’ says Dad. ‘You’ve never listened. People want things. We have things. They will try to take our things away.’

  ‘Not if we share it, they won’t.’

  ‘Of course they will. They will take and take and take until there is nothing. People are selfish. Community is an illusion. Family is all that matters.’

  Did something happen out there in the desert to make Dad like this? Or was he like this all along?

  ‘Dad. Where have you been this whole time?’

  He turns on me, his teeth bared. ‘You know nothing about what it means to survive,’ he hisses. ‘You’ve never even been truly hungry before. You think you have. You skip breakfast because you’re in a hurry to get somewhere. You get that empty feeling. Growling and churning. But that’s as far as it goes.’

  I say nothing.

  ‘After a few hours, you can’t stop thinking about food. Your stomach feels tight and hard. But then? Then it stops, and you feel fine. Not hungry anymore. Because your body has stopped demanding food, and started burning fat to keep you alive. After a while you might get lightheaded and dizzy. You feel tired all the time. Your body runs out of fat to burn and starts eating muscle. As your magnesium levels drop, your heart beats slower, and you get weaker and weaker. You run out of phosphorus and that’s when your muscles atrophy. You lose control of your arms and legs. Your organs start to shut down as your body cannibalises everything it can in order to keep your brain and heart alive. If you’re lucky, you’ll go into cardiac arrest and die. If you’re unlucky, you’ll suffer excruciating pain for weeks or even months, unable to move, until your body finally shuts down.’

  I hear a noise behind me, and turn to see Grace, staring at Dad, tears running down her cheeks.

  Dad stacks the dismantled components on top of the solar panel, then dumps them into the Bluebird. He doesn’t have to tell us to get in. Even Panda climbs meekly into the car.

  At home, Grace and I go inside, while Dad unloads the stuff he took from the lake, then hauls our old trailer over to the Bluebird and starts rigging up a tow-bar.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ Grace asks, watching from the living-room window.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, although this isn’t entirely true.

  I can’t stop thinking about the canvas bag in the Bluebird. About Clarita’s conviction that someone was out there, stealing bicarb and vinegar. He must have gone back after the explosion. He must have seen my cairn. He knew I was there, and didn’t say anything. Maybe he’s been there this whole time.

  But why not come home?

  ‘Something’s not right,’ I say to Grace. ‘There’s something he’s not telling us. Don’t you think it’s weird that—’

  ‘Stop.’

  Grace’s voice is tight with emotion. ‘You have to stop, Pru. Stop picking fights with him. He’s back, and he’s our father, so whatever he says to do, we do. That’s how this works. That’s how we survive.’

  I look back out at the man in the driveway, sweating and grunting as he hauls the trailer into position.

  ‘Please,’ Grace whispers. ‘For me.’

  I nod. ‘I’ll try.’

  19

  Dad gathers us in the living room the next morning. He looks clammy, his brow damp with sweat.

  ‘There’s another attack coming,’ he says.

  ‘How do you know?’ I ask.

  ‘I just do. You girls are in danger. We’re all in danger.’

  He wipes a hand across his forehead, leaving behind a smear of black grease.

  ‘Do you both feel okay?’ he asks. ‘No shortness of breath? Nausea?’

  ‘We’re fine, Dad.’ Grace’s tone is calm and reassuring.

  Dad nods. ‘Good. It’s not safe for you to mix with the rest of the town. Not safe in any populated areas. We have to get the Paddock up and running again. Total isolation is the only answer.’

  Total isolation. No friends. No Mateo. No contact with the outside world. No life. I open my mouth to argue, but Grace kicks my ankle and gives me a warning look. I promised her I’d try. I close my mouth again.

  He stands up with a grunt. ‘Tell me if you experience any symptoms. Headache, dizziness. Anything. I want to know.’

  He steadies himself on the back of his chair, and I think that of the three of us, he’s the one who looks unwell.

  He leaves the house and I shoot a pleading look at Grace.

  ‘Don’t,’ she says shortly. ‘I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘But Grace, he’s not right.’

  She rounds on me, her face white with fury. ‘He’s been nothing but right. He was right about the EMP. He prepared us. If it wasn’t for him, you and I wouldn’t be alive right now.’ She clenches her fists. ‘And if we’d followed his instructions then maybe we’d all still be alive.’

  I can’t go along with this. ‘I’m going into town.’

  ‘But he said—’

  ‘I have responsibilities.’

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ she warns. ‘I’m not covering for you.’

  Something inside me snaps. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Maybe I’ll tell him who told Keller about the Paddock. Maybe I’ll tell him you were sleeping with Keller. You don’t get to be the sweet and innocent one anymore, Grace. You’ve done bad things too. Let’s not forget who was holding the gun that shot Blythe.’

  The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. Grace’s eyes go wide, and she staggers back like I’ve physically struck her.

  ‘Grace,’ I stammer.

  But she doesn’t let me finish. She disappears into her room and slams the door closed.

  I hear the engine of the Datsun roar into life, and run outside. Dad stops the car when he sees me.

  ‘You said there’d be chaos and violence,’ I tell him. ‘Nine meals to anarchy. But it wasn’t like that. The people in Jubilee are good people. They’re kind and they look after each other.’

  Dad sneers. ‘You’re so naive. Of course there was no anarchy – they didn’t need to scramble, because you gave them the Paddock. Everything they need for survival. They’ve been living like kings off the back of my hard work. And that’s going to end. You’ll see. They’ll fight me to keep it. Then they’ll turn on each other, fighting over every last leftover scrap.’

  ‘You’re wrong about them.’

  He regards me for a moment, eyes narrowed. ‘Get in,’ he says finally. ‘I’ll show you.’

  I hesitate for a moment before climbing into the Bluebird. Dad floors it, and we roar off down the driveway in a choking cloud of red dust, the trailer bouncing behind us.

  Most of the dead birds on the road have been scavenged away by foxes and eagles, but you still see the odd little clump of bone and feather. There’s a dead kangaroo as well, not much left but bones frayed by the beaks of wedge-tail eagles. I glance over at Dad. His expression is set and grim, and I realise I don’t recognise him at all.

  There’s a heavily loaded car parked outside the Heart, boxes and suitcases lashed to the roof with octopus straps and rope.

  Paddy runs up with a milk crate full of toys and books, passing it to Georgie, who tucks it into the boot of the car, rearranging everything like a game of Tetris. Keith tightens the ropes, and litt
le Natia kicks and gurgles on a blanket in the shade nearby.

  Everyone is there to see them go. They all look up as the Datsun roars into town and brakes abruptly. I see Mateo standing with Clarita. He takes a step forward when he spots me, but Clarita draws him back.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Dad murmurs to me. ‘This will get ugly.’

  He pulls out his Glock, climbs out of the car, and fires into the air.

  Baby Natia starts to wail, and Georgie picks her up and bounces her, glaring at Dad.

  ‘Bloody hell, Rick,’ says Violet.

  I remember the way she looked at me when I voted for Dad yesterday at the meeting, and I feel my gut twist with shame. Maybe the best thing I can do is go with Dad and Grace back to the Paddock. Hide our toxic family away so we can’t hurt anyone else.

  Dad looks over at David Bratton and squares his shoulders. He’s ready to fight.

  ‘Pru, are you okay?’ David calls to me. ‘Has he hurt you?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ I yell back, but there is a wobble in my voice.

  ‘Don’t talk to them,’ Dad snaps. ‘Don’t speak at all.’

  He points his gun at Violet. ‘I’ve come for what’s mine. Anyone who tries to stop me will be shot. No second chances.’

  Violet shrugs. ‘Take what you want. We’re all leaving anyway.’

  And she turns and walks away from him over to where Peter Wu is standing. She keeps her back turned. After a moment, Peter turns around too, so they are standing side by side.

  ‘Cowards,’ spits Dad.

  David Bratton turns his back on Dad. Then Simmone. Then Mateo and Clarita. Then Jan and Barri and Laurine. Then Georgie and Keith and even Paddy, until everyone stands silently, their backs to Dad.

  Dad’s eyes bulge in fury. He stalks up the steps to the Heart and disappears inside.

  I climb out of the car, and Mateo comes pelting over. He wraps his arms around me and I let him hold me, breathing him in.

  ‘I get it,’ he murmurs. ‘What you said about him. I get why you did it. Why you kept it a secret.’

  I take his hand and we head over to Violet.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell her.

  She snorts. ‘Not your fault, child. That man’s not right.’

  I remember how pale and clammy Dad looked this morning.

  Peter Wu speaks up from nearby. ‘Infirmity doth still neglect all office, whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves when nature, being oppress’d, commands the mind to suffer with the body.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ I say.

  ‘Leave,’ says Violet shortly.

  ‘Are you leaving?’

  She nods. ‘I’ll be back one day. This is my home.’

  ‘What about you?’ I ask Peter.

  ‘I’m not sure where I’ll end up. Somewhere I can be of help.’ He pauses, tilting his head as he looks at me. ‘You could help people too, Pru. With your skills, your knowledge. You could really make a difference.’

  I feel tears rising behind my eyes. I shake my head. ‘I can’t leave my family. I know Dad is…But he does it because he loves us.’

  Violet snorts.

  Peter purses his lips. ‘They do not love, that do not show their love,’ he says with a sigh. ‘And as that other great bard Patty Smyth once said, sometimes love just ain’t enough.’

  My heart sinks further in my chest. I have to believe that Dad loves us. It’s all I have left.

  Keith taps me on the shoulder. He looks so frail. He needs to get to a bigger town, one with a decent stock of antivirals, in order for him to have any chance at survival.

  ‘You okay?’ he asks me.

  ‘Nope.’

  His face crinkles with empathy. ‘Family is hard,’ he says. ‘When my dad found out about the HIV, he made…assumptions. About me. About my lifestyle. I tried to get him to understand, but he never wanted to listen.’ He shrugs. ‘Sometimes you have to decide if it’s worth it.’

  Georgie passes baby Natia to Paddy, who makes faces at her until she giggles. Georgie smiles at them, and I can see how proud she is of her family. She steps forward and embraces me.

  ‘I used your phone,’ she says. ‘Made contact with my sister in Silver Creek. It’s five hours’ drive. Then Keith’s gonna take the car to Garton to find his daughter.’

  ‘There are other kids in Silver Creek,’ Paddy tells me, unable to contain his excitement. ‘Enough for a real game of footy!’

  ‘I’ve done all I can here,’ Georgie says. ‘There’s enough cars that everyone who wants to leave can leave.’

  I turn and hug Keith, who stiffens for a moment, and then hugs me back. He feels so thin and fragile, I’m afraid if I squeeze him too tight, he’ll break.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says.

  ‘Thank you,’ I respond, but it’s hard to get the words out without crying. ‘Look after yourself.’

  ‘I will.’

  I feel like Dorothy farewelling her friends in Oz. Except in this version, they’re the ones who are going home, and I’m going to be stuck in the Deadly Desert for the rest of my life.

  Keith and Georgie vie for the driver’s seat.

  ‘You can’t breastfeed and drive at the same time,’ says Keith.

  They pile in, Natia strapped safely into a baby capsule that Georgie found in someone’s garage.

  Keith settles behind the steering wheel, looks over at Georgie and turns the key in the ignition.

  The engine rumbles.

  Georgie, Keith and Paddy wave to me.

  I wave back.

  And then they are gone, a dissipating cloud of red dust all they leave behind.

  I turn to Mateo and ask the question I’m dreading the answer to. ‘When are you and Clarita leaving?’

  Mateo’s face twists, like he doesn’t want to tell me.

  ‘Tomorrow.’ It’s Clarita.

  All my dreams evaporate. Mateo will never take me to the mangrove island in Puerto Rico. We’ll never fall backwards into the ocean to wash away our bad luck. I’ll never see him again.

  ‘Come with us,’ says Clarita. ‘You can’t stay here with that man.’

  Mateo takes my hands and nods. ‘Please,’ he says.

  I swallow. I want to say yes.

  Dad reappears, laden down with an overflowing box of supplies.

  ‘Inside,’ he snaps to me. ‘Help me get all this into the trailer.’ ‘Pru,’ says Mateo. ‘You don’t have to stay with him.’ But Grace has already lost one sister.

  When we get home, Dad gets to work, stringing barbed wire across our front gate.

  This is Rick Palmer’s property, and I am his hostage.

  Grace is sitting on the couch when I walk in. Not reading, or brushing Panda, or eating. Just sitting there, staring into nothing.

  ‘I’m sorry about before,’ I say.

  She looks up at me, but doesn’t answer. This place isn’t good for her. It isn’t good for anyone.

  ‘If I asked you to leave with me, would you?’

  Grace closes her eyes. ‘Don’t ask me,’ she says. ‘Don’t make me choose.’

  ‘He’s unstable, Grace. He’s always been like this, but everything that’s happened has made him so much worse.’

  ‘I know,’ she says quietly.

  ‘Then let’s leave.’

  ‘And abandon him? If he’s sick, then he needs our help. He needs us to ground him.’

  ‘So we throw away our own lives to save his?’

  ‘What else can we do? Maybe once things get better, we can find him some proper help. A doctor.’

  ‘How are we going to find him a doctor if we’re trapped in the middle of nowhere with no way of contacting the outside world?’

  Grace is crying again. ‘What choice do we have?’

  I want to scream. I want to tear down the walls of this stupid house and fly away. But she’s right. We can’t leave Dad behind, alone with his paranoia and fear.

  Can we?

  I wonder if we could drug him, restrain him
somehow and drive to a city where we could get him some help. But who knows what we’ll find in the cities? Who knows how long it will take before the state of emergency is over, and normal services can resume? By then it might be too late for us all.

  I head outside and round the side of the house where Dad is digging in the red earth. He’s making traps – pits that he disguises with leaves and branches, to stop intruders from approaching.

  Or to keep us from leaving. Locked in our tower, like princesses behind a forest of thorns.

  I look at him, and I can’t see my father anymore. What little reason or compassion he may have once had is gone. I look at him, and what I feel isn’t resentment, or guilt, or obligation. It’s hatred.

  I hate him.

  I hate him for what he’s done to our family. I hate him because it isn’t my fault Blythe is dead – it’s his.

  He looks up at me from his ridiculous pit, and I finally understand.

  He hates me too. He hates me for betraying him. For letting Blythe die.

  We stand there and stare at each other for a moment. There are bags under his eyes and the right side of his face is swollen.

  ‘You don’t look good.’

  He snarls up at me. I can smell cloves on his breath.

  ‘You stayed at Hansbach the whole time,’ I say. ‘You stole bicarb and vinegar and dental floss from the canteen. You were there when I was there. You saw the cairn.’

  He doesn’t deny it, just keeps digging.

  ‘Where did the Bluebird come from?’ I ask.

  ‘You think I’d take a job out in the middle of nowhere and not be prepared?’

  ‘So why not come straight home?’

  He looks up at me, his eyes dead. ‘I had to make sure you weren’t contaminated.’

  ‘We weren’t what?’

  His breath hisses through his teeth. ‘Haven’t you been listening? The EMP was nothing. Chemical warfare is what it’s all about. Disease. Death. Mind control. I couldn’t risk you passing the infection on to me.’

  I stare at him. ‘You thought we might be infected, so you stayed away? You didn’t try to come and help?’

  He shrugs. ‘Once you get it, you’re dead. I figured there was no point in us all dying.’