Nature of Ash, The

by Hager, Mandy

  We’re walking back to the camp when Monica arrives on a beat-up quad bike and invites us all to dinner at her house. She’s barbecued up some fish, cooked whole and stuffed with herbs — I honestly don’t know the last time I ate something so fresh. Mikey, of course, is so bloody freaked out by their bulbous eyes he refuses to eat anything except salad and spuds. But the tinny little bugger still wins big time: there’s pavlova and fresh strawberries for dessert. Tonight he’ll dream of swimming in whipped cream (probably with Jiao).

  There’s a real relaxed vibe going down, and I find myself laughing so hard at one of Erich’s jokes I nearly choke. As I wipe my eyes I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. What am I doing? Dad is dead. How can I be sitting here, laughing and eating as if all’s right with the world? It’s such a gross betrayal I feel sick.

  I scrape my chair back from the table. ‘I’m gonna walk my dinner off if that’s okay. I’ll meet you back at the camp.’

  ‘Me too.’ Mikey stands as well.

  I shake my head. ‘No, sorry, mate. I need some space.’ I cross to Monica and give her a quick hug. ‘Thank you so much — for everything.’

  ‘You’re very welcome.’

  Funny how you meet some people and you have this instant link, like they can read your mind as well as you read theirs. Maybe she’s lost someone she loves too.

  I walk down the gravel road accompanied by the call of a morepork. It’s so much darker here, no streetlights to push back the night. But the stars! I thought there were hundreds the other night, out on the farm, but when I look up now they seem so close I swear to god they heat my cheeks.

  ‘Dad,’ I whisper. ‘Are you there?’

  More-pork. More-pork.

  ‘Please, give me a sign.’

  I stand stock still in the middle of the road, and hold my breath. Listen. Send every probing sense out into the dark.

  More-pork. More-pork.

  Bloody bird. I try again.

  More-pork.

  This is ridiculous. Old Owliver Twist here is just taking the piss. I guess I’ll have to trust my own instincts — though that’s what bloody frightens me. Mikey’s the one who knows, not me. I could be leading us right up shit creek.

  Back at the hut I light the fire and make sure it’s roaring by the time the others show. We settle into our bunks while Erich tells us how he saved this guy who’d shot an arrow right through his own head. Go figure. What kind of stupid twat does that? Oh yeah: the kind who doesn’t have a brain to damage in the first place. There are millions of the doofers, all voting for the bastards who got us in this mess.

  I wake with the dawn chorus. I feel snug and clean and totally relaxed. I’ve slept right through the night and so, to my relief and amazement, has Mikey. It’s like Erich slipped us anaesthetic to numb our brains. Or maybe it was the painkillers he gave me for my nose? Whatever, they’ve worked a bloody treat.

  Once I’ve sorted breakfast and tidied up, Erich announces that he’s off. He shakes my hand, man to man, but I surprise him with a hug. Hell, he surely deserves it. He stands all loose and unresponsive, like he’s forgotten what to do. But, slowly, he starts to squeeze me back.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure, sir,’ he says, his eyes misting up. ‘I wish you luck.’

  ‘You too,’ I say. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Go back to Whanganui and steadfastly avoid the news. I have no appetite for such profound deceit.’ He takes his wallet out and hands me a wad of fifty-dollar notes. There must be over five hundred bucks. ‘In case of emergencies,’ he says.

  ‘Bloody hell, I can’t take this. You’ll need it for yourself.’ I try to press the notes back into his hand.

  ‘My friend, the truth is I’m already on borrowed time. The Big C. Not even doctors are immune to that. I came up here to die — it’s where my wife was born, the closest I can get right now to an ancestral home. You’ve made me feel as if I’m still alive. As if I’m part of something … useful. When you get to my declining years and health, believe me, son, that’s worth a whole lot more than a few devaluing notes. Spend them while you can.’

  I don’t know what to say. Life is just one shitty thing after the next. My eyes are prickling as I hug him again, then the next thing I know Mikey squeezes in on the hug as well. Now Jiao throws herself in too, screeching ‘Group hug!’, and finally comes Travis, though I reckon he’s secretly here to sneak a grope of Jiao. But Erich loves it, and he drives off in his hippie fish-and-chip car with a grin the size of Mikey’s on his hairy mug. I wave him off, and think of Grandma. I hope like hell she’s safe. She was once this cool.

  With nothing else to do we spend the morning farting round down at the river, walking back to Monica’s café in time for lunch. Bitchface is back but blatantly ignoring us, while the other two girls flirt with Travis, who clearly can’t resist anything with tits. Nor, it would seem, can they resist Mr Try-Hard Casanova. If giggling was illegal, these two airheads would be slapped in jail — actually, slapping is a great idea, full stop. We fill up on the brunch menu and, thanks to Erich’s cash, order a whole stack of toasted sandwiches to take away. Before we leave I spot a small battery radio for sale. I can’t resist it, and buy an extra dozen batteries as well. Bitchface is so rude about the whole transaction, it winds me up. I have a bloody brainwave. The perfect line to pay her back.

  ‘Hey Mikey,’ I call, all cheerful. ‘Come over here and meet your new stepsister!’ She snarls like a feral dog and stomps away. ‘Screw you,’ I say, chasing her with my laughter. ‘You don’t deserve him anyway.’

  We wander back to the campsite and cool off with a dip. Afterwards Travis entertains Mikey with a crawly hunt, while Jiao settles under a tree to read. No wonder her bag weighs a ton — she must have twice as many books as clothes. I swim across the river and beat my way up through the bush. The trees are enormous here, the lush undergrowth bursting with life: tui, kereru, fantails and all these little brown birds that sing real sweet. This must’ve been how the whole country was before we screwed it up. I find a little mossy clearing and sit down to catch my breath. If only I had Dad’s ashes. This would be the perfect place.

  Next thing I’m crying, and it’s a bloody relief just to let it happen away from prying eyes. Maybe this is how it feels to be a father — always swallowing down your own hurts for the sake of your kids. No wonder we had no idea what Dad was suffering. I wish I’d known. You’ll do anything to shelter the ones you love from pain.

  I stumble back down through the bush, the swim disguising any remaining tears. There’s no sign of Mikey or Travis. I wander over to Jiao. Have to talk. Have to divert my brain.

  I skew my head around to read the title of her book. The Handmaid’s Tale. Must be chicklit. Or maybe kinky lesbo porn. ‘Good read?’

  ‘Mmm,’ she says. ‘In a scary kind of way.’

  ‘Horror, huh?’

  She laughs. ‘You could say that.’ She crimps the corner of the page and closes the book. ‘How are you feeling about seeing your mum?’

  I shrug. ‘Dunno. I can’t really believe it’ll happen. It’s like trying to figure out how you’ll react if you see a ghost.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ she says. ‘It’s such a good way of explaining it.’ She stretches, her toes pointing like a ballerina. She has pretty feet.

  ‘Hey, please don’t take offence at this, but how do you know for sure you fancy girls?’

  She looks directly at me, a smile tweaking her lips. ‘How do you?’

  ‘Touché!’ One of Dad’s favourite sayings. I have no idea what it means, just know it fits. ‘It gets me in the balls. Is it the same with you?’ I grin, in case she thinks I’m for real.

  She whacks me on the arm, really bloody hard, but she’s smiling. ‘Thanks a lot!’

  ‘Seriously,’ I say, resisting the urge to rub my arm. ‘How old were you when you knew?’

  ‘Not sure. I didn’t really think about it until I got to college and realised all the other girls were
swooning over boys, except for me.’ She tucks her knees up under her chin, hugging her legs. ‘My biggest fear is that my parents will try to marry me off. I’d have to tell them then.’

  ‘You really reckon they’d go ape-shit?’

  ‘Does a bear crap in the woods?’

  That’s so not what I expect. I splutter out a laugh. ‘So that’s the benefit of reading all that Shakespeare and poetry — you really have a way with words.’

  She snorts, then her smile drops. ‘So, what are you going to do with Mikey when you go back down south?’

  Okay, I guess I deserve a hard one fired back. ‘To be honest, every time I try to think it through, my brain melts down. Besides, who knows? We could be caught up in this conflict for years, and—’

  ‘Ashy! Look!’ Mikey’s barrelling towards me with a freshwater crayfish pinched between his fingers. ‘I caught it!’

  ‘Yeah, cool, mate. Now you should let it go.’

  ‘No, man.’ Travis is clutching a swag of them in his shirt. ‘We’re going to cook them up!’

  ‘Hungry, hungry, hungry!’ Mikey dangles his wriggling catch over his mouth. I try to send the poor thing a telepathic message. Trust me, mate, now’s the perfect time to die of shock.

  They race off to the bunkhouse to commit their crawly genocide, and I have to admit he’s okay, Travis, when he’s relaxed. That’s the great thing about Mikey: spend some decent time with him and he’s so bloody grateful he’s an instant ego-boost.

  I fiddle with the radio until I find a working channel, though it’s almost too depressing to stay tuned. Food shortages are spurring more riots — and Lucinda was right: people have withdrawn all their savings, so now the banks are recalling mortgages, even though most people don’t have enough to pay. I guess that will mean more campgrounds full of homeless refugees. And there’s been a stand-off at one of the coal mines down on the West Coast, with seven locals shot by UPR security guards for trying to break in. I’m starting to dread the bloody breaking news — even now reports are coming in that one of the interisland ferries has been holed at its mooring and sunk. It’s like listening to a badly written play, where the writer’s thrown in every possible disaster that’s popped into his head. I turn the damn thing off. There’s nothing I can do about any of it except feel sick.

  By now the crawly killers have boiled up their catch and brought them back outside to scoff, caveman style. Jiao digs in too, not squeamish at all. Usually I’d be in there, but for some reason the sight of all those tiny corpses makes me feel sick.

  Monica drops in late afternoon to check whether Mum’s made any contact. She’s brought five cans of beer, one for each of us. We wander down to the river and sip them in the sun. Mikey thinks he’s the goddamned cat’s pyjamas, playing drunk after the first two tiny sips, though he shudders every time he swallows a mouthful. I doubt he’s ever drunk a whole can before, but what the hell. Maybe he’ll go to sleep early and give me a break.

  Ironically, it’s me who crashes first. I hit the sack as soon as it gets dark and only vaguely hear the others climb on to their bunks. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I’m woken by footsteps thumping along the outside veranda. I assume it’s Mikey, wandering off for a leak, and I’m still groping around for the torch so he can get back to bed when the door flies open with a bang.

  ‘Stay where you are! Nobody move!’ A silhouette forms against the open door, then another joins it and the edges blur.

  ‘Ashy?’ Mikey’s in bed, panic strangling his voice.

  ‘It’s okay, mate. I’m here.’ I have no bloody idea what’s going on, but I can’t leave Mikey over there on his own.

  I leap from my bunk, only to be speared by the beam of a torch.

  ‘I said don’t fucking move!’

  I freeze, and hear a metallic click. Holy shit. Is that a gun?

  ‘Ashy?’ Mikey’s fighting free of his sleeping bag now.

  ‘Don’t move,’ I hiss. ‘Do everything you’re told.’

  I’m going to have a heart attack. It’s pumping so damn hard and fast it’s going to explode. What the hell is going on?

  The main light flicks on, and I have to blink to clear the momentary blindness. Two huge men in balaclavas are standing there, one with a shotgun aimed at me, the other brandishing a bloody great metal torch. I have no fucking idea what to do. Jiao’s backed herself against the wall, sleeping bag bunched at her chin, while Travis is half out of his bunk, hands frozen in the air. And Mikey, his mouth gaping like a goldfish, is emitting a piercing high-pitched whine.

  ‘Please,’ I say, forcing myself to speak, ‘let me go to my little brother.’

  The guy with the gun grunts, then jerks the weapon in his direction. ‘Shut him up, for fuck’s sake.’

  I race across to Mikey and hold him tight. ‘Shhh now. I’m here.’ He’s shaking and smells of piss.

  No one else says a thing. We can only watch in horror as the guy with the torch hooks it through his belt and takes a roll of tape out of his pocket. He lunges for Travis. Wrestles him down and tapes his hands together behind his back. Then he blindfolds him with a strip of rag. All the while Travis holds himself stiff, his mouth set in a defiant snarl.

  They pick on Jiao next. She’s half-bloody-naked, wearing only her T-shirt and knickers. If that prick tries anything sexual, I’ll crack his fucking nuts. I will. There’s no way I’m going to stand by and watch something like that. But all he does is blindfold her and tape her hands.

  Now he turns to us. ‘Please,’ I say, ‘don’t blindfold Mikey. He’ll absolutely freak.’ He pauses for a moment. Maybe he’ll actually … No. While Arsehole One swings the shotgun back to me, Arsehole Two moves in to peel my hands off Mikey’s back. Mikey starts to whine again like a bloody siren. I fight to maintain my hold on him, but the Arsehole has a steel grip. He jerks my hands behind my back. I struggle but somehow he still gets them taped. Now he takes another strip out of his pocket for my eyes.

  ‘It’s okay, Mikey, just let them do exactly what they want for now. I’m still right here.’ I try to sound calm but all I can hear is his petrified whine. It’s impossible to see through the blindfold. I spit the biggest loogie I can muster towards Arsehole Two.

  He shoves me sideways and Mikey starts to scream as if he’s being killed. ‘I’m here, Mikey! Are you okay? Mikey? Mate?’ I thrash my hands, trying to break the tape. Both Jiao and Travis yell reassurance at him too. It’s like a noise-bomb going off.

  ‘All of you shut up!’

  The gun fires right beside me and I swear my heart stops. Please god, no.

  ‘Mikey?’

  For a moment there’s silence, then I hear him whimper like he’s hurt. ‘You fucking bastards.’ I drop down to my knees, shuffling forward to locate him by sheer force of will. My knee hits something soft. ‘Mikey? Is that you?’

  ‘Want Dad.’ Thank god. I bunt my head towards his voice. Can hear his snotty breathing just to my right.

  ‘I’m here, mate. It’ll be okay—’ But it’s no good. The bastards have hoisted me to my feet. With their hands hard in my armpits, they drag me outside.

  It’s terrifying. I don’t know where I am or what the hell is going on. I hear a car door creak, and feel myself thrown forward. I hit cold metal, and bounce. Mikey’s next, shrieking as they heft him in, then Travis and Jiao.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’ My voice is shrill.

  ‘I’m okay but—’ Jiao yelps. ‘Shit, who just kicked me?’

  ‘Ashy, where are you?’

  ‘I’m going to fucking kill them,’ Travis says.

  ‘Ouch! Get off my hair.’ Jiao sounds as if she’s crying.

  ‘Jow Jow, my eyes won’t work.’

  I can hear the scrape of boots on gravel, and then the Arseholes chuck a whole bunch of gear in on top of us. The doors slam again, and the lock clicks. The vehicle lurches forward as the motor fires into life. The gearbox clunks. I’m thrown against the side, my head crashing into metal as the vehicl
e spins around, then speeds off. Fuck!

  I locate Mikey by the smell of piss. Push myself against him so he can feel I’m here. ‘Are you all right, mate?’

  ‘Dark.’ He sniffs. God damn his crying. There’s nothing I can do.

  ‘Trav, where are you?’

  ‘How the fuck should I know? Where are you?’

  ‘Follow my voice. If you can get over here—’ I start to recite the alphabet as a locator beacon. It takes till K before I feel his shoulder connect. ‘Okay, let’s try to get one of us free, at least. If you can figure out roughly where my hands are and get your head down there, I’ll try to pull your blindfold off. Yeah?’

  ‘Okay.’ I feel him squirm around, grunting as he wriggles around behind my back. ‘Don’t fart.’

  ‘Thanks a bloody lot.’ His hair brushes against my knuckles. ‘Yeah, stop right there.’ I pat around until I find the blindfold, then try to tug it off. ‘It’s really tight.’

  ‘Tell me ’bout it.’ Travis jiggles his head to help me work the blindfold free, and eventually it gives. ‘Yes!’ He wriggles back up. ‘We’re in the back of one of those fancy-arse pick-up trucks — the kind with the solid canopy over its tray. There’s no way they can hear.’

  ‘Can they see back here?’

  ‘Only a bit, I reckon. It’s really dark.’

  ‘Is there anything around we can use to cut the tape?’

  ‘Can’t see enough to know. But they’ve chucked in all our gear.’

  ‘Any clues who they are?’

  He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Nah. Lean down. I’ll get your blindfold now.’ He slides his fingers down from the crown of my head, then starts to tug. He wasn’t wrong — it bloody hurts — but with a determined grunt he manages to pull the blindfold free.