by Hager, Mandy
When I can’t stand it any longer, I pull over in a layby near the river. ‘Sorry, but I have to wash away that stink.’
I rummage in our pack to find clean clothes, grateful now we lugged the whole lot to the car. Find a towel and the bottle of shampoo. Go round to the back seat and help Jiao rouse Mikey from his stupor. Egg him down the slippery bank to the water’s edge.
‘Are you okay to help?’ I check with Jiao. ‘I’m not sure I can do this on my own.’
‘No worries,’ she says. ‘I’ve had to help him once before.’
Of all the people in the world I’d like here at this moment, she’s bloody tops.
We strip down to our underwear and carry Mikey, fully clothed, into the river. As his legs make contact with the water, his eyes flicker in surprise.
‘What’s—?’ He looks at me and for a fleeting moment smiles. ‘Ashy.’
‘Yeah, matey. It’s me. We’re going to give you a bit of a bath. Get you all sweet-smelling and clean again.’
Jiao rests his head on her breast, the tinny bastard, holding him secure around his chest as I work off his soiled trou and undies while he floats. I used to clean him up when he was small, but I’m out of practice with it. In truth, this feels kind of pervy now.
‘Jow Jow?’ Mikey cranes his neck around until his cheek is mashed against her chest. ‘You went away.’
‘I know. I’m so sorry we weren’t there. But we’re here now.’ She leans over and plants a kiss on his forehead. ‘You’ve done really well.’
‘Hate her — that lady,’ he says. ‘Very bad.’
‘Too bloody right, mate.’ It’s good to hear him string together a few lucid words.
I rinse away the bulk before we shift upstream. Mix river sand with the shampoo to scrub him down. His body’s so strong compared to mine, his limbs shorter and way more sturdy. He’s hairy too — a boy inside a man’s body. Nothing since Jeannie first knocked on my hostel door makes any sense to me — I can’t begin to imagine what it must be like for him. After a good five minutes of concerted scrubbing, all trace of his humiliation is washed away. I rinse his face and hair, then leave him floating in Jiao’s arms while I attack his clothes. I’d throw them out if we didn’t have so few. Now we haul him out of the water. Jiao keeps a firm hold while I rub him with the towel, then dress him in dry clothes. The water has revived him a little and he sits on the riverbank and watches as we wrestle shirts and jeans back over our wet underwear. I try not to look at Jiao.
As we return Mikey to the car, he rubs his paunchy gut.
‘Hungry,’ he says.
Hallelujah! I kiss his head. ‘We’ll find you something back at Monica’s. It won’t be long.’
As soon as we’re back on the sealed road I put my foot down and boot it, clutching the steering wheel like a limpet as I gun the car round the corners and flat-foot the straights. Ray and Grace will know Mikey’s missing by now, and they’re sharp enough to know who rescued him. I need to coax every sodding kilometre-per-hour out of this thing. But it’s like Russian roulette. Sliding round each corner with fingers crossed. Most of the time we’re okay and the road is clear. But twice I have to jerk the wheel, missing two oncoming cars by sheer luck. It’s a hell of a way to learn to drive.
At last we pull up outside Monica’s store, and Ana comes out to meet us. She sees Mikey in the back and gives a thumbs-up. ‘So it wasn’t as bad as you thought, huh?’
‘You’ve no idea.’ I fill her in, not sparing any details, while Jiao helps Mikey out of the car and into the café.
His jack-o-lantern smile returns at the mere smell of food. But I’m still so amped I can’t sit down, even to eat. Mikey might be safe for now, but Mum and Ray could well be on our tail, and Travis could have bled to death for all we know. I ask Ana if I can use the phone, and ring through to the hospital in Hawera. Convince them I’m Trav’s cousin so they’ll tell me how he is.
‘He needed surgery,’ the nurse reports, ‘and luckily we were able to do it here. They removed the bullet and repaired the damage to his bone. The biggest worry was a rupture in his subclavian artery, but they’ve managed to suture that.’
‘Does that mean he’s okay?’
‘He’s resting comfortably. In a few weeks he’ll be fine.’
If I was there, I’d bloody kiss her. ‘Has my aunt been contacted?’
‘She’s on her way.’
‘Do you think you could ask her to ring me — Ashley — at home when she arrives? My mobile doesn’t seem to work.’
The nurse laughs. ‘Don’t you listen to the news? They’ve shut the whole cell-phone network down indefinitely so the terrorists can’t use it.’
‘Oh, thanks. I didn’t know that.’ Though maybe I did, and I just haven’t processed it till now, just like I haven’t really processed how people mention terrorists like they’re an everyday event and no one really blinks.
Enough. Trav’s alive and safe. So is Mikey. And Jiao and I are more or less okay as well. We bloody did it! Except—
I almost hear the thud as I drop out of cloud cuckoo land. Dad is dead. And Jiao’s parents are probably next. I’ve failed her. Failed them. This thing is nowhere near finished yet.
I return to the table where Mikey has perked right up. He’s shovelling food in like it’s Christmas. One up for gluttony: a Downs fuck you to monsters like Mum. Meanwhile, Ana and Jiao are already a step ahead of me, plotting what to do if Grace and Ray turn up.
‘For goodness’ sake, deny you’ve even seen us,’ Jiao says. ‘Or, if you get enough warning, hide somewhere till Monica’s back.’ She looks at the other two girls. ‘You promise not to tell?’
‘Of course.’ They look insulted that she had to ask.
Jiao turns to me. ‘Then let’s be off.’
I’ve gotta hand it to her, she acts like all that matters now is getting Mikey safely home. If she’s still shit scared for her parents, she’s doing a damn good job of masking it. I wish to god I had her self-control. I write our landline number on a note for Monica, reclaim Jeannie’s card and make to leave.
After a final thank you to the girls, we settle back into the car. ‘That lady stuck a needle in,’ Mikey suddenly says. ‘I fell over. Look … here.’ He points to the bruise on his head, then pouts at me accusingly. ‘You promised.’
‘I did my best, mate. I really did.’ There’s a lump the size of bloody Everest in my throat. ‘I was trying to help Jiao’s mum and dad.’
He reaches round the seat, one arm each side, and loops them round Jiao’s neck. ‘They okay, Jow Jow?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she says. ‘Everything’s up in the air.’
‘They flying?’
She snorts out a painful laugh and pats his hand. ‘I wish.’
Mikey starts to sing, quietly at first but increasing in volume. ‘Dicky dare, dicky dare, fly your little pig in here …’ I’m not sure if it’s his own mash or some sick porn version he’s picked up, but he sings the damn thing over and over until I’d gladly wring Mother Goose’s neck.
‘Stow it, mate. And put your bloody seatbelt on.’
He must be improving. He throws himself backwards. Slaps on the seatbelt like it’s an instrument of torture, crosses his arms and scowls. I leave him to his sulk, needing all my concentration for the road. I’m knackered now, struggling to focus. Counting every kilometre as it slips away.
Jiao’s caught up in her head as well, silent except for a few worrying sniffs. I feel such a failure — a turncoat — for heading home, but what else can I do? Maybe when we’re there I can ask Lucinda to contact Simon and see if he knows anything or can help in any way. The fact is, we don’t even know what’s going on in the rest of the country — it could be overrun by the Western Alliance by now … or the UPR. Jeezus.
As the drive grinds on I start making stupid mistakes. Forget to change gears. Accelerate instead of brake. Mid-afternoon I’m following a tractor that’s been dawdling on a windy stretch of road. Come on. Come on. I
overtake. And realise I haven’t put my foot down hard enough — I’m still out in the middle of the road as I head into a sweeping downhill curve and see a truck and trailer unit barrelling up the hill the other way. The driver leans on his horn as I spin the wheel in panic. The Toyota flies off the road, bumping through all sorts of crappy vegetation, ending with a god-awful crunch against a tree.
We’re still sitting like shocked jellies when the truck driver wrenches my door open. He’s pale as hell. ‘What the heck were you doing? You could’ve got yourselves killed.’
‘I— I’m sorry.’ There’s no excuse. Just sheer stupidity.
‘Is anyone hurt?’
I cast around. The other two look shaken but okay. ‘All good thanks.’ Who am I bloody kidding?
There’s steam hissing from the bonnet where it’s punched into the tree. I climb out, groaning as I straighten up. Everything hurts.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say again. ‘You see, I’ve never really driven before, and we need to get back to Wellington urgently—’
The guy grabs me by the collar and pins me to the side of the car. ‘What the hell were you thinking then, you stupid idiot? You could have killed us all!’
‘We were trying to rescue my friend’s parents …’ Out it tumbles. The poor bastard’s eyes grow wider and wider as I spew the most demented story he’s probably ever heard. He lets me go. Scratches his neck as he studies me from head to foot. ‘You sure you didn’t knock your head, kid?’
‘It’s all true,’ Jiao says. She walks around and rests her hand on my back. I’m shaking like a storm-struck leaf. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah. What about you guys?’
‘A bit sore from the seatbelt. Mikey’s fine. I think he was asleep, so he was all relaxed.’
‘Well, this car’s not going anywhere. The tyres are munted too, by the look of things.’ I scrape my hand over my face, trying to keep control. ‘I’m so sorry. I completely buggered up trying to overtake—’
Jiao tippy-toes to peck me on the cheek. ‘We’re all okay and that’s what counts. You did your best — and it’s a whole lot better than I could’ve done.’
The truck driver’s been watching us, and clears his throat loudly. ‘It sounds like you’ve been through the wringer, mate. Sorry, but you gave me such a bloody fright.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ I say again. ‘How far is it to Whanganui from here?’
‘Too far to walk, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I do have a radio in the truck. I could call up one of my mates to tow you into town. Would that help?’
‘Is the Pope a man?’ Jiao says.
The trucker laughs. ‘Done. Won’t be a tick.’
I watch him walk back up the road. What a fucked-up world it is, where strangers go out of their way to help while family try to kill you.
And the guy’s as good as his word. He’s back to tell us his mate is on his way, and asks if there’s anything else we need. I can only shake his hand and grovel yet again. Then we settle on the roadside to wait, sharing sips of bottled water till the tow-truck turns up. The driver introduces himself as Joe, dives down the bank, races back up and winches the Toyota on to the road. Now we can really see how stuffed it is. There’s no way in hell this poor car will ever drive again.
It’s a squeeze to get the three of us into the cab. But the guy’s friendly enough and doesn’t seem at all fazed by Mikey or the garbled bullshit he begins to sing. I’d normally make him pipe right down but I don’t have the heart. It’s a weird comfort thing he’s done since he was small. Anyway, I’m buggered, and don’t have the energy. Jiao, at least, has manners, and politely asks Joe for news.
‘Things are bad around here, love,’ he says. ‘All the local club games have been canned — half the lads are in the Territorials and they’ve all been recalled. The pub’s started rationing beer. The missus has to queue for bread. I’ll tell you what, the world’s gone mad.’ His beer gut wobbles. ‘Though it’s not all doom and gloom — the missus has lost half a bloody stone! A few more weeks of shortages and she might see her feet again. Now that’s a bloody miracle!’
I see Jiao scrunch her forehead. She turns to me. Don’t, I mouth. Leave it. Tomorrow will be soon enough to face the next shit sandwich. I close my eyes and let the motion of the truck lull me. I’m tired. I’m sore. I have no idea how we’ll get home, or when. It sure won’t be tonight.
It’s late afternoon by the time we hit the outskirts of Whanganui and there’s an army checkpoint blocking the road. They’re going through every car, and one guy’s even crawling around to search underneath. Joe, relaxed as ever, winds down his window and chats all comfy with the dude in charge.
‘Nah, mate, all good. Kids on a joy ride. You know what it’s like.’ He winks. ‘See you at the club rooms later?’
We’re waved right through. God knows what we would’ve faced if we’d arrived in a Toyota toting Jiao’s gun.
We ask Joe to drop us at the whale. At least we know it’s dry and close to showers and loos — and Erich, with any luck. I can’t wait to unravel this whole mess with him.
‘I’m sorry I can’t pay for the petrol,’ I say to Joe as we clamber down from his cab. I mean it — this guy will never know how welcome his kindness and generosity have been.
‘No worries, mate. I’ll siphon the juice out of your old dunger there. That’ll do nicely.’
He idles the truck while we climb on the back to rescue our gear from the boot of the Toyota, then drives off with a blast of his horn.
Jiao sighs. ‘Only three things in human life are important. To be kind. To be kind. To be kind.’
‘Who said that?’
‘Henry James, with a little editing from me.’
‘Who’s Henry James?’
‘A writer from a long time ago.’
‘How come you like that old shit so much?’
‘It helps me understand the world.’
‘But that was then. What’s happening now is different. Hell, you do science, you should know that. They used to think the world was flat.’
‘Some things never change. Like the way people act.’
I pick up Mikey’s pack and settle it on his back. ‘Then we’re all fucked. History’s just one bloody war after another.’
‘Maybe,’ she says, ‘but if there’s one thing science has taught me, it’s that you have to understand a problem inside out before you have any chance of solving it.’
Mikey pushes his face into Jiao’s. ‘Stop talking. I need food.’
She lugs her gear up, and winces. ‘Well, there’s one thing that’ll never change!’
I follow Jiao through the entrance to the park and it’s immediately obvious that here, at least, things have changed. Whole families are crammed into tents set out between the slides and swings. Groups of dazed-looking adults are sitting around wherever they can find space while their hordes of screaming kids run amok.
We haul our gear over to the whale, only to discover it’s been occupied by someone else. Mikey’s outraged. Refuses to leave, insists that it’s our whale. I have to bribe him with a promise that we’ll go straight to Erich’s — which is, thank god, enough to make him move. Meanwhile, the new inhabitants are bristling right back. Now is not the time to draw attention to Mikey’s differences — or Jiao’s.
It’s easy enough to find Erich’s hippie car but the cabin he was in last time is now home to a young couple with a kid. They’re approachable enough, and tell us Erich was carted off to hospital just yesterday.
This is the last bloody straw. I push through the crush of people near the toilet blocks and kitchens, pass row after row of tents until I find a track down to the river. Mikey chases after me, all panicked, shrieking my name. I just bloody ignore him. I need some time alone.
What if it’s somehow our fault Erich’s worse? That nut-shrivelling cold swim? The long hot drive? I scoop up a handful of rocks and start to biff them into the water as hard as I can. Feel all my strai
ned muscles complain as Mikey grabs hold of my pack and swings off it with all his weight.
‘Here now,’ he says, like I’ve been worried. Here for bloody life.
‘Why don’t we find somewhere to leave our gear, then visit Erich at the hospital?’ Jiao says, coming up behind us.
I throw one final rock. Watch it disappear. ‘I don’t think I could bear it if he’s already died.’
‘Please,’ she says. ‘I think I need to be checked out.’
‘What?’
Her face is pale, her forehead crinkled with strain. ‘No big deal but I think I might have a broken rib.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you say?’ I grab her pack, unloading it from her back.
‘I thought it might settle down but it seems to be getting worse.’
Mikey brushes his hand over her forehead. ‘Are you sick, Jow Jow?’
‘Not sick,’ she says. ‘Just a bit sore.’
I’m guessing that’s a massive understatement. ‘Let’s go right now.’ I loop the strap of her pack over my shoulder and hand Mikey her extra bag. With Trav’s gear to cart as well, I can hardly move. ‘After you,’ I say, watching as she struggles up the bank. Yep, she’s in pain all right. And guess which useless tosser is to blame?
After a lot of grovelling, the woman running the camp agrees to store our gear. She draws us a map and says it should take half an hour to walk to the hospital. In her dreams. It takes an hour, by which time Jiao’s fighting back tears.
It’s another hour’s wait in A and E before they take her in. And nearly another before she emerges. Meanwhile, Mikey’s so damn clingy I can’t even go to the bog without him coming too. He hangs round my neck like a ball and chain. Strokes my face. Pats me on the back each time I move.
‘Two cracked,’ Jiao says as she sits down beside us. There’s a bit more colour in her face now. ‘They said it was the seatbelt, though you’d think they were meant to help. They’ve given me some painkillers — that’s all they can do.’
