The Silent Invasion

by James Bradley

  Vanessa kissed Gracie on the head, but Gracie, focused on her breakfast, didn’t look up.

  ‘She’s feeling better?’ Vanessa asked me.

  ‘I think so,’ I said, a little too quickly.

  ‘Good,’ Vanessa said.

  ‘How’s Caspar?’ I asked, aware even as I spoke that I sounded uncomfortable.

  Vanessa glanced at me. She looked exhausted, her face haggard with lack of sleep. ‘Fine,’ she said, but before she could say anything else Tim appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Have you seen my blue shirt?’ he asked.

  Vanessa looked around. ‘Have you tried the laundry?’

  ‘It’s not there.’

  Vanessa shook her head. ‘Hang on,’ she said, pushing past him.

  As if noticing me for the first time, Tim nodded in my direction. ‘Hi, Callie,’ he said, before turning to follow her.

  Opposite me Gracie had almost finished her breakfast. ‘Come on,’ I said, taking her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

  Although it was still cool in the shade you could smell the approaching heat in the air. Two houses along the Ayres kids were coming down their drive. I stopped for a few seconds to let them get ahead of us, then pulled Gracie in the opposite direction.

  ‘Come on,’ I said.

  We made our way quickly toward the trees at the end of the street. As we passed the old playground that stood beside the last house Gracie hesitated. ‘I want to play for a while,’ she said.

  ‘Not now,’ I said. ‘We need to keep moving.’

  ‘Why?’

  I glanced back up the street. Tim would be leaving for work soon and I didn’t want him to catch us standing here. ‘Just because.’

  The street followed the line of the hill, and at its end, where it met the bush, two paths ran off in different directions. The first headed upward and back along the rear fences of the houses along our side of the street, the other downward, through a line of trees toward the dam where I had found Gracie the day before. We took the second, winding out around the side of the dam, and then on, beside the creek.

  I knew this path well. For the first year or so after Dad Changed I stayed with Vanessa in the house where Dad and I had lived before he met her. It was the only house I had ever known, and although after Mum died it was just me and Dad, it was home. Once he was gone it was different, yet somehow being there still helped. But when Vanessa met Tim they wanted somewhere new, somewhere that wasn’t the place Vanessa had shared with Dad and wasn’t so close to the city and the refugee camps, and so they moved up here, into the hills.

  At first I hated it, hated everything about it: the heat, the quiet, the other kids. I was so angry I couldn’t see that what I really hated was leaving our other house, and life without Dad. If it hadn’t been for Gracie, who was little more than a baby then, I think I would have run away, gone into the city or to one of the camps. Anywhere but here. But I knew I couldn’t leave Gracie, so instead I began to escape out into the bush whenever I could. A kilometre or so along the track the creek drained into a concrete culvert, and I used to sit on the side and look at the water as it trickled by.

  Then one day, a few months after we moved here, I had an argument with Vanessa. I don’t remember what it was about, but whatever it was it was enough to send me running out of the house and down toward the creek. I wanted to be alone, but more than that I needed to be in motion, to lose myself in the ache of my muscles, the burning of my breath in my chest.

  I must have run for half an hour or even longer, my feet slipping on the loose ground as I pelted through the trees and the bushes that grew along the line of the creek, until eventually the land began to flatten out, the bush giving way to the back fence of a house. It was small, built out of orange bricks with a red tiled roof, and although the fence was still standing I could see from the long grass and broken furniture in the backyard that it was unoccupied.

  I was old enough to know it wasn’t safe to go poking through abandoned houses, but as I stood looking at the yard choked with weeds and the back door that stood half open, something came over me, and with sudden determination I clambered over the fence and crossed the yard to the house.

  Inside it was dark, the air thick with the smell of mould and decay. Looking around I could see I wasn’t the first person to come here: the shelves had been stripped and somebody had sprayed Die Die Die on one of the walls in black paint. But despite that there were still signs of the people who had once lived here. On one wall hung a row of framed photos; images of a family, a mother, a father, two children. They weren’t doing anything special – in one a boy stood on the pedals of a bike, his face turned to the camera as he pulled a face; in another they sat in a line on a beach – yet I was struck by the wastefulness of it all. Where were they now? Were any of them alive? Had they Changed? Or had something else happened to them, something worse? I saw a chair and, suddenly furious, I kicked at it, then I picked up a book and threw it, then another, before finally grabbing the shelf and tipping it over. Only when I was done did I realise I was crying.

  I still don’t know what set me off that day, whether it was the fight with Vanessa or feeling like I’d lost my home, or simply the fact that Dad was gone, but afterwards, as I made my way back, I understood I’d come to the end of something, and if I was going to keep going I needed to let go.

  In the three years since then I’d got good at keeping everything I felt hidden away. But now, with Gracie, I wasn’t sure I could manage it any longer, wasn’t sure what I’d do if they took her as well.

  By the time we reached the creek Gracie was walking ahead of me. She loved it down here, loved the quiet and the space. Where most people saw a wasteland she saw a place filled with wonders: frogs and lizards, fish, even wallabies and kangaroos and the occasional fox. Sometimes I thought Gracie must have some sort of psychic connection to the landscape; certainly I’d never known another kid who was better at finding things, at spotting nesting birds or animals poised so still anybody else would have missed them.

  Ordinarily I tried to guide her when we were down here, keep her moving on some semblance of the path I needed her to be on, but today I didn’t try. Instead I just let her go where she pleased. When she was walking she was quiet, lost in whatever it was she was doing, and although I was busting to talk to her I was afraid of what might happen if I tried to talk, and so I just kept my mouth shut.

  Finally, as lunchtime approached, we stopped in the shade of a pair of bushes. It was hot, and as we sat down Gracie took my water bottle and drank. And when she was done she picked up her Bunny.

  ‘I’m sick, aren’t I?’ she asked.

  I looked at her, shocked. When I didn’t answer she pulled her sleeve up, revealing the shimmer of the Change on her skin.

  ‘Will they take me away, like Daddy?’

  I hesitated, fighting back tears. Then I nodded slowly.

  ‘What will happen to me?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I lied.

  ‘Will they hurt me?’

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said, hating myself for the ease with which I deceived her. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Will I be allowed to see you?’ she asked.

  I shook my head. ‘No,’ I said in a small, strangled voice.

  Gracie nodded. ‘Will Daddy be there when I get there?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘But perhaps.’

  She looked down at the ground. ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘Oh, sweetie,’ I said in a rush, pulling her toward me. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘So am I.’

  It was almost four by the time we arrived back at the road. Gracie was tired, and although she was heavy I carried her up the hill to our street, so I was hot and my arms and legs ached. As we reached the playground William and Lizzie Yeung came hurrying toward us. William and Lizzie were the heads of the local Citizen Safety group an
d I could tell from the gun on William’s belt something was up.

  ‘Callie!’ Lizzie called as they approached. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘We’ve been trying to ping you all afternoon.’

  ‘I’ve had my phone off,’ I said. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘A group of men broke into the Hamers’ and attacked them,’ William said. ‘We think they’re still nearby. Here,’ he said. ‘Give me Gracie.’

  As he spoke he reached out and took hold of Gracie. Startled, I pulled away.

  ‘No!’ I said, my voice louder than I had meant it to be.

  William hesitated, his hands still on Gracie. Lizzie stepped closer. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we have to go.’

  We were walking next to each other now, Gracie between us. I pulled on her arm, trying to free her, but William didn’t let go, and Gracie let out a cry.

  William released his grip, but as he did I saw him glance downward and catch the underside of Gracie’s arm protruding from her sleeve.

  He stopped dead, his eyes locked on Gracie’s arm. Then he looked up at me.

  ‘What?’ Lizzie began to ask, but then her voice trailed away. ‘Oh no,’ she said, her words barely audible.

  ‘Please,’ I said, but neither of them answered, they just stood, staring at me.

  ‘What do we do?’ Lizzie said.

  For a few seconds William didn’t speak, then he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Callie,’ he said, taking hold of Gracie again. This time I didn’t resist.

  ‘Call Quarantine,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell Vanessa and Tim.’

  Lizzie had gone pale.

  ‘No,’ I said, ‘I can take her.’ As I spoke Gracie gave a cry and reached out to me.

  William backed away with Gracie in his arms. ‘You’ve done enough already,’ he said, his voice telling me he was hating every second of this.

  I chased him up the slope, pleading with him to let her go. When we were halfway up Tim and Vanessa appeared at the door above us. Vanessa was rocking Caspar gently in her arms.

  ‘Gracie!’ she shouted, pushing past Tim and hurrying toward us. But before she reached him William turned aside. Vanessa stopped, confused.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  William didn’t answer, just stood, Gracie in his arms, staring at Vanessa.

  ‘William?’ Vanessa said. ‘Lizzie?’

  ‘Vanessa,’ William said. ‘Take Caspar inside.’

  Vanessa shook her head. ‘I don’t understand . . .’ But as she spoke I saw Tim had realised something was very wrong.

  ‘Do as he says,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Vanessa said. ‘Not until I know what’s going on.’ In her arms Caspar had begun to scream.

  ‘Please, Vanessa,’ Tim began, but before he could finish Vanessa saw Gracie’s arm.

  ‘No,’ she said, starting toward William and Gracie. ‘Gracie!’

  Tim grabbed her arm. ‘Vanessa! Stop!’ Still clutching Caspar to her chest, Vanessa let Tim draw her back. Lizzie placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in, saying something I couldn’t hear. At first Vanessa shook her head, but then Lizzie put an arm around her and with a small nod Vanessa allowed herself to be ushered back into the house.

  ‘We’ve got to get her inside until Quarantine arrive,’ William said. ‘It’s not safe out here.’

  Tim didn’t answer immediately, just stood, staring at Gracie.

  ‘Tim?’ William said.

  ‘Are you certain?’ Tim asked. ‘It’s not a mistake?’

  ‘No,’ William said. ‘And even if it is, Quarantine can sort it out. For now we need to get her somewhere safe.’

  Tim nodded. ‘Bring her inside and put her in her room.’

  Above us Lizzie had reappeared at the door. ‘Take Callie to our place,’ he said as she came toward us. ‘She can wait there.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I want to be with Gracie.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ William said.

  ‘Please,’ I said, my voice rising. ‘I have to!’

  Lizzie took my arm, her grip firm. ‘Stop this, Callie,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘They can’t take her. It’s not fair! It’s not fair.’ But even as I said it something in me yielded to Lizzie’s grip, to her attempt to pull me away. The last thing I saw was William watching me, his face not hard, or angry, but sad.

  Lizzie sat me down on the couch. I hadn’t been in her and William’s house before and I couldn’t help but notice how temporary it seemed, furniture strewn here and there, boxes in the corners. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me: after all, so many people were on the move, running from the Change or trying to forget people they had lost.

  Lizzie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. ‘Here,’ she said, handing it to me, careful to keep her distance. There was no reason to think I was infected as well, and even if I was I wouldn’t be infectious, but that didn’t change how jumpy people got whenever there was an outbreak. I took the glass without speaking. She looked down at me with what I suppose was compassion.

  ‘I need to know I can trust you not to do anything stupid if I leave you here.’

  I nodded. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Are you certain? We’ve got trouble outside and I need to be there.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ I said, more sharply this time.

  Lizzie stood watching me. ‘Good,’ she said, then turned back to the door.

  ‘And Callie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through.’

  Once she was gone I sat on the couch for a long time. I’d known since I saw the signs of the Change yesterday afternoon that this was how it would end, but now I was here it seemed impossible to bear. Nobody liked to talk about it but we all knew what happened to the people Quarantine took. When it wasn’t us, when it wasn’t somebody we knew, somebody we loved, it was possible not to think about it, or to tell ourselves it was what we needed to do to survive, but now it was Gracie I wasn’t sure I believed that any more.

  Outside somebody shouted William’s name, the sound jolting me back into the moment. Because we were a little way out of the city we didn’t tend to get too much trouble, but most weeks there was some kind of break-in or incident. Usually they were just people from up north looking for somewhere to sleep or something to eat, but sometimes they got ugly. I knew Tim thought we needed to be harder about it all, that a few shots in the air never hurt, so I was glad he wasn’t out there tonight. After a while I realised I was still holding my glass; leaning over I put it down, but as I did I received a call. I picked up and Vanessa started speaking without even drawing breath.

  ‘When did it happen, Callie? When did you notice?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ I said.

  ‘And you let her stay here? With Caspar?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘He could have caught it.’

  ‘It’s not contagious, not like that. You know that.’

  ‘Perhaps not in adults, but who knows with babies. And anyway, what if Quarantine found out? We could have been arrested.’ She paused.

  ‘Is she still there?’ I asked abruptly. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ Vanessa said, her voice faltering. ‘Yes. Oh God, Callie, they’re going to take her away.’

  I nodded, tears coming again. ‘I want to see her.’

  She sniffed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s not safe.’

  ‘Please. I have to,’ I said, but before I could continue Tim’s voice appeared on the line. ‘Just stay there, Callie,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to be done.’

  Then the line went dead and I was alone.

  The thing they don’t tell you
about grief is that no matter how bad the shock is, the part that comes afterwards, when you face the idea of life without the person you have lost, is worse, because it’s then that you’re most alone. Sometimes I think that time never ends, that you’re never without that empty space inside you, but either way, I’m not sure I could have made it through the weeks and months after Dad Changed if it hadn’t been for Claire.

  Claire was my father’s oldest friend. They had met when he first came to Australia from Nigeria to do his doctorate, and at first both had simply been pleased to discover somebody with similar interests, and a shared fascination with speculative biology. But over the years they had become friends, then colleagues, and even, for a year or two when I was five or six, lovers. That hadn’t worked out but they had, perhaps surprisingly, remained close, even after he met Vanessa. Losing Dad must have been hard for Claire as well, but she never showed it. Right from the beginning she kept dropping in, helping me get to school, doing what needed to be done.

  What was great about Claire was the fact she didn’t seem to think I was crazy for being so angry, or for not wanting to accept he was gone. ‘It isn’t fair,’ she said. ‘Any of it. Not for you, not for him, not for anyone.’

  One day I asked her something. We’d been somewhere together – the park, I think – and we were walking back to Vanessa’s apartment. ‘Why couldn’t we have just gone somewhere and hidden?’ I asked.

  Claire touched my head, smoothing down my hair.

  ‘Because they’d find you,’ she said.

  ‘No matter where we went?’

  She nodded, and then she looked away. One of the other things I liked about Claire was the way she treated me like an equal instead of a kid.

  Sensing her hesitation I looked up. ‘So there is somewhere we could have gone?’

  She looked at me. ‘Some people run, Callie, try to make it to the Zone.’

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard of people running, heading north toward the Exclusion Zone that lay beyond what was once the Queensland border in an attempt to escape capture. It made sense, after all; although the exclusion zones that circled the world’s equatorial and sub-tropical regions had been established to keep the rest of us safe by containing the Change, isolating its biology from the rest of the planet, they also offered a place of potential refuge.