The Road to Winter

by Mark Smith

  ‘I didn’t know how to tell you,’ she says.

  Tears well in her eyes but there’s anger behind them too.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she asks.

  ‘I’ve worked out a plan,’ I say. ‘I’ll be in and out to see that you’re okay, but I’ve gotta get things organised. I’m going to head out this arvo and see Ray. Remember I told you about him? He’ll be able to help us.’

  She’s drifting off again.

  ‘Finn,’ she manages to say, ‘you talk so much.’

  A faint smile crosses her lips before she falls asleep.

  Rowdy and I scout the long way again, out past the golf course that’s gradually being reclaimed by the bush. It takes about half an hour to get up to the fence and this time I approach cautiously, staying low and crawling to take advantage of the bracken fern for cover.

  Up closer, I signal to Rowdy and he drops to his haunches and waits. Everything’s quiet. To my right I can see a rabbit in one of the traps. It’s still alive, pawing at the ground with its front legs to try to escape the metal jaws. It’s the only sign of movement up here. Even the wind has backed off; the trees are still.

  I scuttle back into the scrub and make my way parallel to the fence until I find the tree from yesterday. Rowdy drops at the base of the trunk while I climb into the canopy. There’s still no sign of life, no smoke from a fire and no body of the man attacked by Ramage yesterday.

  I climb down and walk back towards the rabbit in the trap. I’m about ten metres from it when Rowdy freezes. His ears are pricked and the hair on the back of his neck is bristling.

  ‘What is it boy?’ I whisper, dropping to my stomach. Rowdy holds his position. I pop my head up just above the ferns and scan the paddock. Nothing. But as I drop down again, I see it. Just in front of the rabbit in the trap is a mound of leaves in a circle. I probably wouldn’t have seen it if I was standing up, but at ground level I can see it’s an unnatural shape and there are boot marks around it. There’s a piece of rope snaking off to a tree branch that’s been bent down and tied to a metal peg in the ground. It’s a trap—and it’s meant for me.

  I don’t know if they are watching, but I figure if they were they’d probably have made a move by now. I edge around the booby trap, scramble in to get the rabbit, free it from the jaws and quickly stretch its neck. I can’t risk losing the trap so I pull it up, shake the dirt off it and place it carefully in my backpack, followed by the rabbit. The other four traps are all further along the fence so I follow it until I find them too. They’re all empty, and I trigger each with a piece of wood and stash them in a hollow log, hoping I’m not disturbing a snake.

  I can move freely again without the weight of the traps and I make good time down into a gully before I pick up the trail that will lead me to the cliff tops and out along the coast to Ray’s valley.

  This is the quickest way to Ray’s, but it’s also the most dangerous. The track is exposed because the bush ends and the low heathland takes over a couple of hundred metres back from the edge. Anyone hanging back in the tree line will be able to see me, but I just have to take the risk.

  The sun is starting to drop—I know I have to hurry. Ray may not answer my signal if I get there past dark. I’m not worried about making my way home at night; I reckon I could do the trip blindfolded.

  It starts to rain, but it’s thin and misty—not enough to hide me. Rowdy senses the danger and moves along close to my leg. There’s a stretch of about five hundred metres that gives no cover, so we break into a steady run. The rain thickens and low cloud rolls in.

  I’m getting used to operating like this, with adrenaline pumping through me. I used to get my thrills riding my bike down the steep tracks off the ridge or surfing big waves out on the point, but now it’s just how I live, on edge, pushing against the fear the whole time.

  It’s tough going through the heathland, but we make headway, and after about half an hour Red Rocks Point appears out of the mist. Rowdy bounds ahead to the top and waits for me to climb up. The granite slopes back into the bush and pretty soon we’re fighting our way through waist-high bracken. Eventually we find an animal track that leads inland. The rain has eased and the sky brightens as the low sun finds a path through the clouds.

  When I’ve come out to see Ray before, I’ve always approached from the other direction, coming down into the valley from the coast road. I’m a bit unsure of my directions today, but I figure if I keep moving uphill I can’t go too far wrong. I have to find his place before dark.

  When the trees start to thin a little, I make out the glint of corrugated iron on the other side of a creek that splits the valley. Rowdy and I cross over and keep low as we approach the clearing below a shed. I want to be sure it’s safe before we go any further.

  Coming from the north, there’s a trip-wire set up, attached to an old cowbell on his front porch. But we’re arriving from the coast and I’m not sure Ray’s got any warning mechanism from this direction. The only reason he’s survived so long here on his own is that his farm is cut off from any roads. It was the back block of a bigger farm up on the coast road. The scrub has reclaimed most of the other farm’s paddocks, forming a perfect screen for Ray’s place.

  I ease through the fence and make a quick dash for the cover of the shed, Rowdy running by my side. From here I can see up across the furrows of the back paddock and the raised veggie beds closer to the house. It all looks quiet. There’s nothing but open ground between us and the back porch—about fifty metres, I reckon. We have to make a run for it. Once I get closer to the house I’ll call out to Ray so we don’t surprise him.

  I grab Rowdy by the collar so he won’t get ahead of me and we’re just about to break cover when I hear the click of a shotgun being cocked.

  ‘You wanna be more careful, Finn. Someone’ll blow ya brains out one day.’

  ‘Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.’

  Ray lowers the shottie. ‘Why’re you coming from the south, young fella? Not your usual way.’

  ‘Sorry, I had to come along the coast. Quickest way.’

  He looks at me warily, sensing trouble.

  ‘You being tracked?’ His eyes shift back to the bush beyond the fence.

  I’m short of breath, gulping for air. He grabs me by the collar and pulls me back into the shed.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s Wilders. Half-a-dozen of them. Been hanging around for a couple of days since—’

  ‘Since what?’

  Ray’s the only other person I’ve spoken to in years, the only other person I can trust.

  ‘Can we go up to the house?’ I ask. ‘I wasn’t followed, I’m sure of it.’

  He looks at me in the fading light and smiles.

  ‘Come on then,’ he says, ‘you look like a drowned rat.’

  We cross the paddock quickly, or as quick as Ray can go. I reckon he must be in his seventies by now and each winter he seems to get a little slower. He walks a bit like a crab, with his bowed legs keeping his body close to the ground.

  Ray’s house leans to one side where the stumps have given way. There are exposed floorboards, an old combustion stove and chipped cups on hooks on a dresser that looks like it could fall apart at any minute. He stands the shotgun in the corner and eases himself into a battered armchair in front of the stove. Rowdy sidles up to him and Ray scratches him behind the ears. He’s always had a soft spot for Rowdy.

  ‘Now, you’d better tell me what’s going on,’ he says.

  ‘There’s a girl. She was chased into town the day before yesterday by a pack of Wilders. She’s safe, she’s at my place, but she’s crook. She’s got a bad cut on her hand and it’s infected.’

  ‘A girl! She got the virus?’

  ‘Don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s the cut that’s the problem. She’s got a bad fever.’

  ‘Where’d she come from?’

  I take a deep breath and tell him as much of Rose’s story as I can remember, including
that Kas is still out there. He listens carefully. After two winters it’s almost beyond belief that this could happen. I reckon he’s sizing up how all this might affect him, whether he’s safe or in more danger because of what I’ve done. When I’m finished, he sits for a long time, thinking.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he finally says. ‘That’s a game changer.’

  There’s something reassuring in the way he says this. It’s getting darker, but I think I can see a smile on his face.

  ‘There’s something else, Ray. She’s pregnant.’

  ‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Are you sure?’

  ‘She’s sure.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Nineteen.’

  Ray sits quietly, scratching his beard. The rain has started up again, bouncing off the corrugated iron roof.

  ‘I’m not sure what help I can be,’ he says. ‘I don’t know much about babies. You know me and Harriet never had any kids. Not for want of trying, mind you.’ There’s a chuckle in his voice.

  ‘I’ve got no idea about babies either,’ I say. ‘I know where they come from, but not anything about helping someone have a baby.’

  ‘How many months do you reckon she is?’

  ‘Dunno. She didn’t say. You can see her belly’s swollen, though.’

  ‘All right. You know Harriet was a nurse? She would’ve known what to do. Pretty sure there’re still some of her textbooks somewhere we can dig out. But it sounds as though we’ve gotta get the girl through this fever first.’

  I like the way Ray is saying we. I remember the rabbit in my bag and get it out for him.

  ‘It’s not much, but I’ve been a bit pressed for time. He’s a freshy, though. Caught this morning.’

  ‘Good lad. I’ve been missing my bunny stews. I’ve got a jar of honey for you. Cleaned out the hive yesterday. And how’re you off for spuds and carrots?’

  ‘Run out. Just a few onions and some garlic and parsley in the garden.’

  ‘All right, then. Bring me some of that parsley when you come out next,’ he says, rummaging around in a sack on the floor. ‘Here’s a few spuds and I pulled the carrots yesterday. The girl’ll need lots of fluid. Soups, that sort of thing. And…’

  He stops mid-sentence.

  ‘Wait here.’ He gets to his feet slowly, heads out the back door and is gone for a good ten minutes. When he reappears, he’s holding a chicken by its legs, its body limp, its neck wobbling against his thigh. I can’t remember when I last ate chicken. I haven’t wanted to kill the wild ones around town because I like the eggs. I know Ray’s only got a few left that haven’t been taken by foxes.

  ‘You didn’t have to do that, Ray.’

  ‘It’s all right. Let’s get that girl well again. Whenever I was crook Harriet made up the best chicken soup. Boil it up with the veggies and force her to eat it, if you have to. Keep the bones for stock. Mix the honey with hot water and give it to her. And when she’s well enough, bring her out to meet me. Then we’ll work out how to find her sister.’

  I can’t help it. I throw my arms around him in the dark and hug him. He rocks on his feet then leans in and holds me tight. We’ve never done this before, but it seems like things are changing, like Rose’s arrival might mean there’s more hope. Even if the hope is mixed with danger.

  He ruffles my hair. ‘From what you’ve told me, she’s a tough little bugger. She’ll pull through. Now,’ he says, ‘you’d best get going before it gets too dark.’

  ‘Thanks so much, Ray.’

  ‘You look after yourself, young fella,’ Ray says when Rowdy and I are ready to leave. Then he smiles and says, ‘I see you’re talking a bit better. I’m guessing she’s been at you about it?’ ‘What’d you mean?’

  ‘Well, y’know, you always talked a bit strange, kinda half-boy, half-dog.’

  ‘You never said anything about it before.’

  ‘Didn’t see the point. I could understand you just the same.’

  I’ve got the chicken in my backpack and Rowdy’s dancing around, going apeshit with the smell of it. It’s dark now, but a quarter-moon has risen. We’re halfway across the front paddock when Ray calls.

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Rose,’ I call back.

  ‘Like the flower.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Like the flower.’

  I don’t want to scare Rose when I get back so I wait out by the shed and whistle a couple of times. When there’s no response, I figure she’s asleep and go through the back door into the kitchen.

  It’s somehow darker inside. I grab the torch off the kitchen bench and, leaving it switched off, make my way to Rose’s room. I almost trip on something big and soft on the floor. My heart jumps when I flick the torch on to find Rose lying across the doorway.

  She flinches with the light. There’s spew on the floor and her whole body, wrapped and twisted in a sheet, is wet.

  Rowdy slips past me and starts nuzzling into her, licking her face. She groans and tries to push herself up against the doorframe.

  I help her to sit up. She breathes out heavily and wipes her hand across her face.

  ‘Rose, are you okay?’

  ‘No sign of Kas?’

  ‘No, not yet. Let’s get you back into bed. I’ve got some food from Ray.’

  ‘I’ve made a mess. Spewed everywhere.’

  ‘That’s okay. We’ll put you in my bed. Then I can clean up in here.’

  She’s too weak to argue, but she does ask me to turn off the torch. In the dark she allows me to lift her up and unwind her body from the sheet. She’s naked. I try to prop her against the wall, but her whole weight falls into me and I can feel her breasts and belly pushing against me. Her arms are around my neck, and I lift her off her feet and carry her down the hallway. She is so light; I can’t work out whether she’s lost weight since she got here or if she was like that when she arrived. All I’m conscious of is her face pushed into my chest and her small gasps for air.

  I lower her onto my bed as carefully as I can and pull the covers over her.

  ‘We’ll be okay, Finn, won’t we?’ she whispers.

  ‘Yeah, course. But let me look at your hand again, and change the bandage. And you need to have some more of the antibiotics.’

  Heading back to the kitchen I look into the other room. The stench is pretty gross and the bed is wet through.

  When I come back, Rose is drowsy, but she drinks the water with the tablets while I unwrap her wound. It’s still inflamed and there’s pus congealed along the line of the stitches.

  ‘You’d make a great nurse,’ she murmurs, and attempts a smile as I begin to clean it.

  ‘I don’t think it’s any worse. The antibiotics might be starting to kick in.’

  ‘Hmm. Hope so.’

  This is the last thing she says before she heaves a sigh and falls asleep. She’s got the sheet pulled up to her chin and her hair, all knotted and tangled, spreads across the pillow. I want to touch her face, but she looks so peaceful and calm that I leave her and go start the tidy up.

  It takes a while to strip the bed, clean the floor and mop up. I’m stuffed after everything that’s happened today—until I remember the chicken. I need to deal with it while it’s fresh.

  It’s a long and dirty job, and it’s getting on by the time I finish. Finally, I give in to the exhaustion. The empty room still smells like spew, so I drag the mattress in next to Rose and lay it on the floor. I convince myself I need to be here if she wakes up, but really I just want to lie and listen to her breathing.

  I’m woken in the morning by something sharp sticking into my ribs. I roll over, but there’s something on the other side too. I open my eyes. Rose is looking down from her bed.

  ‘When did you start growing feathers?’ she says, grinning.

  ‘What?’

  I sit up and I’m covered in little feathers from plucking the chicken in the dark last night. I brush them off as best I can.

  ‘How you feeling?’ I ask.

/>   ‘Bit better, I think,’ she says. ‘Tired.’

  There’s colour in her face and her eyes look brighter.

  ‘What happened yesterday?’ she asks. ‘And where’d all those feathers come from?’

  Now I grin. ‘Ray. He gave us a chicken. He wants to meet you. Wants to help us, if he can. He can’t travel, but as soon as you get well enough we’ll go out and visit him.’

  ‘Chicken? A real chicken?’

  ‘No, a rubber one. With feathers.’

  This makes her laugh. ‘You’re an idiot!’

  And more than anything else, more than the antibiotics and the chicken and Ray’s offer to help, this laugh makes me think she’s going to be okay. We are going to be okay. She’s weak and I can see her arm is still swollen, but it’s like something has turned. She lies back on the pillow and I think she’s gone to sleep again, but when I get up her eyes are open. She’s staring at the ceiling.

  ‘I dreamed of Kas last night,’ she says. ‘She was here, safe with us.’

  ‘We’ll find her. I promise.’

  ‘I’m so weak I’d only slow you down. I was thinking… Maybe you could go and look for her on your own? You’ll have a better chance of finding her. In a day or so I’ll be able to look after myself here. There’s enough food.’

  I sit on the edge of the bed. ‘But what if the Wilders come? You won’t be able to run. Or defend yourself.’

  ‘We have to take that chance. Kas’s been on her own out there for three days now.’

  ‘Not on her own, remember? She’s got someone with her.’

  Rose snorts. ‘Yeah, another kid. They’ll be no help against Ramage.’

  It’s hard to argue with her logic. She would slow me down and there’s every chance the infection could come back if she doesn’t rest. I know the country this side of Pinchgut Junction well enough to stay off the roads. It worries me that I’ve only got a vague idea of where Kas might be, but it’s a chance I might just have to take. I could take some food from here and hunt along the way.

  ‘There’s something else, Finn.’ There’s a quiver in her voice now. ‘I’m more pregnant than I look; about six months, I reckon. Maybe more.’