by Hager, Mandy
‘I’m … I’m sorry to trespass. We had to leave the train.’ Oh god … ‘We’re trying to reach the road.’
The man’s face is in shadow beneath his hat.
‘I’ve already told him that,’ Jiao whispers from the corner of her mouth. She’s shaking and her bottom lip is bleeding like she’s gnawed at it.
‘Shut up!’ The man jerks his gun towards Mikey now. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
Oh, here we go. I put the bags down slowly and sidle over beside Mikey. ‘This is my brother Mikey. He has Down Syndrome. He’s perfectly safe.’
Mikey pipes up: ‘I’m a good—’
I squeeze his shoulder hard. ‘Shhh.’ This guy won’t understand a word Mikey says. All he’ll hear is crazy jabber. ‘Look, if you can just tell us how to reach the main road we’ll be off.’
‘What about her?’ Cowboy Tosser swings the gun back round to Jiao. ‘She looks like a UPR spy.’
I want to say, You bet-cha, ’cause this is obviously such a strategic site — but I’m guessing he’s not big on irony. ‘Nah, she’s cool,’ I say. ‘She’s just here to help me out with Mikey.’
‘Then show me what’s inside the bags,’ he barks.
Oh for Chrissakes. Do we really have to unpack everything right here? ‘Sure.’ I nod to Travis, and we drag out all our pathetic belongings for display on the dusty track. There’s no way this jerk will be interested in any of it. Our pitiful food supply is unlikely to tempt anyone who lives on a farm, and even if our clothes would fit him, they’re all so bloody ancient I doubt he’d want them. But then Travis unloads his own pack and, bugger me, he’s got a bag of weed and another three bottles of the whisky stashed inside.
I kick the weed into the grass behind me and mutter ‘Sorry, mate’ to Travis as I scoop up the drink. ‘Here,’ I say to Cowboy Tosser, ‘you’d be doing us a big favour if you’d take these.’
Travis lets out a tiny squeak, but I spear him with a quick ‘shut up’ glare. He sure as hell wasn’t joking when he said he liked to drink.
The Cowboy slowly climbs off his quad bike, ensuring all the while that the rifle doesn’t waver from its focus on Jiao. He opens up a saddle bag and jerks his head at me. ‘Put them in here.’
Up close he’s not old at all — about the same age as Travis and me, just twice the bloody size. I’m tempted to commend him on his thatch of chest hair. No wonder he doesn’t wear a shirt: vanity’s alive and well in Hicksville. And, hell, why not? Last count I only found two hairs on my puny chest. Shit, even Mikey’s hairier than me.
Cowboy Tosser peers into my face as I pack the whisky. ‘I’ve seen you somewhere before,’ he says. His squinty eyes take me in inch by inch. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Ashley McCarthy.’
‘Why do I know you?’
‘I don’t know.’
Travis pipes up. ‘You might’ve seen him on the TV news. His father was one of the union guys killed by the bomb.’
‘Bad people,’ Mikey shouts, before a shushing from Jiao shuts him back down.
The guy nods his head. ‘Yeah, I remember now. You dumped on the PM.’ He swings the rifle round as if he’s going to blow my brains out, then flips it over so it’s resting on his shoulder. He offers me his calloused hand. ‘Good one, mate. That weasel Chandler’s a lying prick.’
I shake his hand — not hard when every other cell in me is shaking too. ‘Thanks. Thanks for that. So you’re cool if we head off now? Just down this track?’ I sound like I’ve swallowed my own balls.
‘Yeah, no worries. It’s only about another one and a half ks.’ He turns to his bike, removes one of the whisky bottles from the saddle bag and hands it back to me. ‘Tax refund,’ he says, and grins.
I pass the bottle to Travis, who’s already repacking all our gear. Our hairy cowboy watches on, then climbs on to his bike and stows the rifle by his side. I’m tempted to do Mikey’s happy dance I’m so relieved. But as we trek past him, trying not to run, he idles the engine and calls out ‘Hey! You!’ We freeze.
‘Sorry to hear about your dad.’
Then he throttles up and rides towards the hills.
‘Fucking hell!’ Travis explodes as soon as he’s disappeared over the rise. ‘Talk about crap myself!’ He unearths the whisky again, taking one huge slug before offering it to Jiao and me. We both decline.
I rummage in my own gear to find some dry clothes for Mikey and help him peel off his pissy pants. Jiao’s so quiet I glance over to check on her. She’s shaking like a bloody leaf and tears are streaming down her cheeks. As soon as Mikey’s freshly dressed, I whisper in his ear. ‘Jiao needs a hug.’
‘Poor Jow Jow.’ Mikey wraps his chubby arms around her, and her head drops to his shoulder. She has a real good howl before she finally pulls away. ‘Thanks, Mikey. You’re a sweetie.’
The Hug-meister spits on his fingernails, then buffs them on his chest. ‘Me sweetie boy!’
I snort and shoulder the pack again. We divvy up some of our one precious loaf of bread, and I give my share to Mikey. Travis washes his down with another generous shot of whisky, and I’m starting to understand why Jeannie’s so concerned about him. I mean, I like to drink but I don’t need to, whereas I’m guessing he does, every day. Maybe our cowboy friend has done us all a big favour by pocketing a couple of Travis’s bottles. One loose cannon is enough, and Mikey more than fits that bill.
True to Cowboy’s word we make it to the main road in just under half an hour. After another ten minutes, we reach a road sign pointing towards Whanganui. Only fifteen more ks. I check my phone again but there’s still no signal. I guess there’s nothing for it but to walk. Hitch-hiking, for one, is out of the question. The few private cars that pass are packed to the roof with passengers and gear, while the rest of the vehicles seem to belong exclusively to the army: Unimogs, four-wheel-drives, even the odd tank. Their drivers stare at us suspiciously but none of them stop.
Mikey’s starting to get whingey, so when we reach an overgrown lay-by I suggest we light a fire and cook some food. In no time at all we’re cooking up some porridge and scoffing it straight from the billy. We’re just finishing when the air is split by the boom of half a dozen fighters whizzing overhead. They’re painted grey, their tails sporting the red, white, blue and green logo of the Western Alliance.
Travis points to the vapour trail left in their wake. ‘They’re heading in the same direction as us.’
Jiao slaps a hand over her mouth. It’s clear she’s thinking her parents’ factory farm will be in the line of fire.
‘Nah,’ I say. ‘They’re probably just doing a tiki tour on their way north. Or they’re out for show.’ It’s possible, I guess. If only we had phone coverage to find out for sure. ‘C’mon, we need to get going. I reckon we should try to make it to Whanganui.’
Travis downs another sneaky drink. ‘It’s still about fourteen ks away!’
‘Do you have a better idea? If we make it to town, at least we’ll be able to find out what the hell is going on.’
‘We could try stealing a car.’ He’s full of surprises, our new friend Travis, just not the right sort. ‘I know how to drive.’
Okay, so I’m going to ignore that — for now — though I have to say I’m jealous. With petrol so scarce and so expensive I don’t know anyone my age who has access to a car, let alone anyone who knows how to drive. Even Uncle George, who inherited the car from his olds, only ever took it out when he had no other choice — and he refused to teach his kids, saying it was too hard on the planet. ‘Well, let’s start to walk and see how far we get,’ I say. ‘We really have no other choice.’ Besides, I need to get Mikey moving while he’s full of food.
We walk in line along the overgrown verge beside the road. The day is clear but not too hot, and once we get into a rhythm we move at quite a steady pace. Jiao takes it on herself to keep Mikey amused and buoys him up when he gets whiney, leaving me free to chase the demons in my head.
Last year — I guess
it must have been when I was studying for the scholarship to uni — Dad came into my bedroom late one night. He sat down next to me and said, completely out of the blue, ‘Have you thought about the future, mate, when I’m gone?’
I told him not to be so ghoulish, but he persisted. ‘Sorry, Ash, but given Mikey’s needs it’s important we talk this through. It’s likely you’re going to have to be responsible for him for the rest of his life, and I’m worried about the implications of that for you. It’s going to be tough, and, considering the way the country’s going, you’ll not receive any support. You need to understand this. You’re all he’ll have.’
I brushed him off — I didn’t want to face it. But now his words hit me with the full force of reality. And I’m like some horn-bag who’s knocked up a girl then had the baby thrust on me — I’m expected to cope. I mean, I love Mikey, I really do, but the thought of piggybacking him right through life really sucks. What girl is ever going to want that crappy package deal? What employer? What best friend? And even if the insurance money does come through, with prices rising every day … I’m so totally fucked.
We manage another hour before the road starts winding uphill. Mikey’s whingeing grows so incessant even Jiao can’t shut him up. I try to bribe him with an ice-cream if he can make it through to Whanganui, but out of bloody nowhere he throws a total spaz.
‘Want home!’ he cries. He runs on to the road, lies right in the middle, and refuses to get up.
All three of us try to shift him, but the little shit kicks out whenever we get close. It’s a major bloody road, and this great lump’s just lying there. I swear I hear cars approaching even when there are none.
Jiao squats down as close as she can get. ‘Mikey, please get off the road.’ For once Mr Me-Me-Me ignores her and won’t budge.
‘Get up, you nong!’ Travis snares one of Mikey’s legs, copping a kick on the shin for it, but he doesn’t let go. And Mikey’s so enraged with Travis, his concentration slips enough for me to grab his other leg while Jiao ducks in to wrap her arms under his shoulders. We haul the squirming little shit over to the verge. Just in time, too. As we’re laying him down on the grass, a real car screams over the rise, slowing to sticky-beak as it drives past.
‘Don’t you ever bloody do that again!’ I yell. ‘You could’ve killed yourself — and all of us.’
‘Don’t care. Want Dad.’ He starts to cry, not his usual manipulative fake stuff, but real heart-felt tears.
I kneel down beside him and, though he tries to swat me away, I manage to get my arms around him for a hug. As soon as he can sense I’m no longer grumpy, he relaxes, and I rock him till he starts to calm.
‘Ashley?’ Travis’s voice sounds tense. I look up. He’s pointing towards the car that nearly ran us down. It’s pulled up further down the road. Is slowly turning round.
‘You okay now, mate?’ When Mikey nods, I help him to his feet.
The car is coming back along the gravel edge, aimed straight at us. All four of us cluster up against the fence line, as if that will somehow provide protection, but the car stops right beside us. The driver’s door opens, and a man gets out. He’s Asian, middle-aged and wears a well-cut suit — which all adds up to someone connected to the UPR. I glance at Jiao, who glances back at me, a little boogly-eyed, and shrugs as if to say Just because I’m Asian, don’t ask me. I feel heat roar up my face.
He walks around the car towards us. ‘Gidday,’ he says, his Kiwi accent unexpected. ‘I know this probably sounds crazy, but you wouldn’t be Shaun McCarthy’s kids by any chance?’
I’m gobsmacked. How the hell does he know that?
Bloody Mikey pipes up ‘That’s my dad!’ Not that this guy will understand his words, but the affirming tone is clear.
I practise my best fuck-off face. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘I’m Simon Chan. I work with Shaun.’ He jerks his head. ‘I worked with Shaun.’ He sighs. ‘My friend Lucinda rang me at my motel this morning and asked me to keep out an eye for you. She knew I was up this way and said you might be needing help.’
‘What’s this got to do with Lucinda?’ If this is no coincidence, then what the hell is going on?
He shrugs. ‘Some woman cop got hold of her last night.’
Jeannie? I look at Travis and he rolls his eyes. Control freak, he mouths.
Simon steps towards us, holding out his hand. ‘You must be Mikey.’
When Mikey shakes his hand and smiles, I know I can breathe again. I trust his people-reading skills; I’ve never seen him get it wrong.
‘Hi,’ I say, offering my own hand. ‘I’m sorry to be cagey.’
‘No worries. It’s good to see you’re being cautious. And wise given the circumstances.’ He smiles at Jiao and Travis, so I introduce them too. ‘I gather the train is still stuck in the middle of nowhere and the army are preparing to rescue the passengers. So where are you guys heading for now?’
‘We’re trying to get to Whanganui by nightfall.’
‘You know it’s still a good ten kilometres?’
I shrug. ‘We don’t really have a choice.’
‘I’ll take you,’ Simon says. ‘It’s no problem. I don’t need to be back to Wellington until tonight.’
Travis grins. ‘That would be mint!’ He’s right.
It’s a bit of a squash getting all four of us, plus gear, into Simon’s tiny car, but he seems unfazed as he heads back up the hill towards Whanganui. My head’s bursting with questions. The guy seems trustworthy, but it’s still bloody weird him turning up like this. I can’t ever recall hearing his name.
‘So what work did you do with Dad?’ I ask.
‘I run an advocacy service for imported workers and Shaun often used to help support my clients when they ran foul of the law.’ He smiles at me. ‘He was quite a guy … Right now I’m trying to negotiate the release of the workers up at Niúni Farms.’
Jiao gasps. ‘That’s where my parents are!’
Simon glances at her in his rear-vision mirror. His face is grim. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. The situation there is most concerning.’
If ‘most concerning’ is the same as the dentist telling you ‘This will be a little bit uncomfortable’, then Jiao’s parents are really in the shit.
‘Our phones still aren’t working. What’s the story?’ I ask. ‘We saw a whole bunch of war planes flying over a while back.’
‘The government claims terrorists have hacked into the communications networks. The whole country’s down. Only landlines are still working, though threats have been made to those as well.’
‘Bloody hell. Who’s responsible for that?’
‘Well, I personally think it’s the government trying to stop any organised protest, but the usual suspects have been bandied round: the UPR, the Triads, Muru …’
‘Muru?’ My stomach contracts.
‘Yeah. Though it’s never clear whether the government really suspects them or if they’re just a handy decoy.’
‘What’s happening at Niúni Farms?’ Jiao asks. Her face is tight with nerves.
‘I’ve spent the last two days trying to negotiate the workers’ release but so far I’ve drawn a blank. The place is like a fortress — even the workers have been armed up to the teeth.’
‘But my mum and dad are there! How can I get them out?’
Simon pulls over to the side of the road suddenly, and shifts around in his seat. ‘I wish I could offer you some hope, but right now it’s not looking good. I’ve negotiated until I’m blue in the face but, quite truthfully, the only way to get someone out of there alive at the moment is by some kind of covert operation …’ He raises a finger at Jiao. ‘Don’t even think about it. This is no game. If you go near the place you’ll end up dead. Just leave it to the likes of me and, fingers crossed, to people like Amnesty and the UN. I promise we’ll do everything we can.’
‘But you know what the Leaders will do. They’ll use them as human shields …’
‘Whatever
happens, the last thing we need right now is anyone taking things into their own hands.’
‘But Chandler and his lot will sell us out,’ I say. ‘You can’t expect people to sit by and watch.’
Simon smiles, yet still manages to look really sad. ‘You sound just like Shaun.’
He eases the car back on to the road, and I store this treasure away to take out when I’m alone. All of us are quiet now as we peer at the sprinkling of houses on the outskirts of Whanganui, its streets empty except for a few skinny dogs.
We follow the river until Simon pulls into a ramshackle park dotted with ancient playground equipment in the shape of whales and pirate ships, dinosaurs and giant shoes. ‘I’ll have to leave you here, guys, if I’m going to make it back tonight.’ He points toward a stand of kowhai. ‘There’s a camping ground just through the trees. But lie low, eh?’ He looks pointedly at Jiao. ‘There’s nothing you can do right now. Find somewhere off the beaten track and wait this out. And Ashley—’ He pulls me aside and speaks quickly. ‘Keep her out of the public eye. Anyone who looks like us right now is at risk.’
‘What do you think’s going to happen?’
‘The WA declared a no-flight zone over New Zealand late last night and started landing troops. The Aussies are in on it too. Our government has no choice but to acquiesce to calls for war.’
‘So what will the UPR do now?’
‘Protect their assets. They’re mighty pissed off. They claim they’ve been misrepresented and they’ll not give in to bullying from the WA or anyone else.’
‘Do you think the UPR is responsible for the bomb that killed Dad and George?’
Simon stares off into the trees, and I can almost hear the ticking of his brain before he speaks. ‘I’m not sure. There are things that don’t add up.’
Isn’t that what Jeannie said?
There’s no time to press him further. He climbs back into his car then, like an afterthought, beckons me over to the open window. Hands me his business card and two twenty-dollar notes.
