I let out a sigh of relief. In the dark it was difficult to make out much of our surroundings, but as my eyes adjusted I saw what looked like oranges, boxes full of them piled high around us. On the far side of the space I heard our rescuer lean back against the boxes opposite.
‘What were you doing out there?’ he demanded.
Now I could see him better I realised he was only a teenager himself, his face thin beneath dark hair cut short on the sides and longer on the top.
‘Trying to get on one of the trucks,’ I said, irritated by his tone. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘You almost got all three of us caught.’
‘Well I’ll try to do better next time,’ I said. Gracie pressed herself against me, and I caught myself, realising how frightened she must be. Perhaps sensing the same, our rescuer fell quiet too, which was just as well because a moment later somebody appeared at the back of the truck with a torch. Grabbing Gracie I flattened myself against the pallets again.
‘Anybody there?’ demanded a man in heavily accented English.
I watched the beam dance around the truck’s interior. Then there was a clanking sound, as he lifted himself into the back of the truck. I put a hand over Gracie’s mouth, pulling her to me as his footsteps drew closer, the light of the torch moving here and there. And then, just as he reached the crate that separated him from us I heard somebody else at the back of the truck, and a woman’s voice asking, ‘Anything?’
The man stopped, so close I could hear him breathing. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I think they got away.’
‘They must have gone that way,’ said the woman.
The man grunted in agreement, his footsteps heading back toward the open door. A second later there was another clatter and a thump as he jumped down, then the door slid shut with a clanging of chains.
‘What happens now?’ I asked in the sudden dark.
‘We wait,’ said our rescuer, although in fact we didn’t, because as he finished speaking the engine hummed into life and the truck jolted forward.
7
None of us spoke as the truck accelerated away through the city. With the door closed it was almost completely dark, the only light the shifting glow of the streetlights that leaked in here and there. At first our progress was slow, the truck speeding up and slowing down as it negotiated traffic lights, but after a while I felt it begin the long climb up through the hills.
‘Do you know where we’re going?’ I asked after a while.
‘Sydney,’ said our rescuer.
‘Are you sure?’
There was a pause. ‘Yes. Or I think so.’
‘How long will it take to get there?’
‘I’m not sure. Eighteen hours, I suppose. Or perhaps longer.’
Next to me Gracie pressed against me. I stroked her hair.
‘I’m scared,’ she said.
‘Don’t be,’ I said. ‘We’re safe now.’
Opposite me I heard a rustling, as if our rescuer was going through a bag. There was a soft click and a torch came on, illuminating the space around us.
‘There should be lights somewhere in here,’ he said. ‘Let me try to turn them on.’
I watched as he searched along the side of the truck. There was a sort of tension in the way he moved, as if he was angry about something. Yet he didn’t seem violent.
After a few seconds a light came on.
‘There,’ he said.
‘Is that better?’ I asked Gracie. She sniffed and lay against me.
‘Yes,’ she said. I touched her forehead. She was hot.
‘Are you thirsty?’ She nodded, and as I unscrewed the bottle of water from our bag I noticed how pale she was.
‘Here,’ I said, spreading my jacket on my lap and laying her head on it. ‘Try and sleep.’
Gracie complied without argument. A minute or two later she was asleep with her head in my lap. Leaning back, I saw our rescuer watching us from the other side of the truck.
‘Is she okay?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ I said a little too sharply. ‘She’s just exhausted.’
He sat down against the side of the truck. At first I thought he had decided to ignore us, but then he spoke again.
‘How old is she?’
‘Five.’
‘And you?’ he asked.
‘Sixteen.’
‘She’s your sister?’
‘Half.’
‘And your parents?’
I’d learned to be careful who I told about my father. ‘Dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And yours?’
‘It’s a long story,’ he said. Closing his eyes he leaned his head back. At first I thought the conversation was over but after a few minutes he spoke again.
‘What’s her name?’
‘Grace.’
‘And yours?’
‘Callie.’
He nodded. ‘Where are you heading?’
‘North,’ I said.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. ‘North where?’
I hesitated. ‘Port Macquarie. We have family up there. An aunt.’
Again there was that pause.
‘You?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
For several seconds there was silence. I was aware of him watching me.
‘You never told me your name,’ I said, and he smiled.
‘Matt,’ he said. ‘It’s Matt.’ Then he leaned his head back. ‘We should get some sleep.’
It was difficult to keep track of time in the confines of the truck. At some point I woke, disoriented, and looked around, everything both strange and too clear, as if I had been dreaming. Beneath me I could hear the truck’s engine running smoothly: we had left the undulating roads of the hills behind and were somewhere on a highway. On my lap Gracie had rolled over so she was facing up at me; on the other side of the truck Matt lay on his side, his head on his backpack, his fringe covering his face. Gracie shifted in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering as if she were dreaming; adjusting her weight I slid her aside, and lay down in the space between her and the crates. I must have slept again, because when I opened my eyes Gracie was sitting up, opposite me. She looked pale, drawn. Outside the sun had risen, points of light visible here and there through joins in the truck’s structure.
Matt looked up from the screen he was holding.
‘Where are we?’ I asked.
‘About halfway there,’ he said.
Sitting up I winced. ‘My neck,’ I said, but he didn’t reply, just returned to his screen.
I motioned to Gracie to come sit beside me. Lifting my hand I touched her face, but she pulled away.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked, but she only shrugged.
The day passed slowly. Thankfully Gracie slept a fair bit of the time, which might have meant I had time to get to know Matt, if it weren’t for the fact he seemed uncomfortable talking.
Still I learned a few things. He was a year older than me, and although he had grown up in Adelaide he had been born somewhere further north. I guessed a few others as well: although he was clearly bright he hadn’t spent much time in school, that his parents were either Changed or dead, that he’d grown up in or near one of the camps and as such had probably had experiences I didn’t want to think too much about. At one point he mentioned an older brother and his voice suddenly became gentler.
‘You grew up with him?’ I asked. He didn’t reply at once, just sat, staring at a piece of thread he had been winding and unwinding around his finger.
‘Mostly,’ he said.
‘And where is he now?’
He hesitated again. ‘Up north.’
‘Is that where you’re headed?’ I asked.
He tensed, his hands falling still. T
hen he yanked the thread free and cast it aside.
‘You ask too many questions,’ he said, and turned away.
Eventually the daylight visible through the gaps in the sides of the truck began to fade, and as they did the rhythm of its motion began to change as well, speeding up and slowing down as if stopping at lights and weaving through traffic. Bracing himself on the crates, Matt stood up and walked toward the doors at the rear.
‘We have to be careful when we get out,’ he said. ‘If they catch us they’ll turn us in to the cops. Or worse.’
‘Do you know where we’ll stop?’
He shook his head. ‘Could be anywhere.’
‘But we can open the doors from the inside?’
He glanced around at them. ‘I think so. We just don’t know what will be on the other side.’
Although I’d never been there I knew Sydney had been transformed since the arrival of the Change. As refugees had flooded in from the north its population had almost doubled, most of the increase crowded into the refugee camps and shanties that choked the city’s interior. Worse yet, as the Change’s effects on the Earth’s climate had become more pronounced, the city had grown warmer and wetter, meaning its already overloaded infrastructure was further burdened by semi-constant rain and flooding.
Perhaps because of the traffic it was nearly two hours before the truck finally came to a halt, noisily reversing over a series of bumps, before stopping with a violent shudder. I grabbed one of the pallets with one hand, the other reaching instinctually to steady Gracie. I shot Matt a glance to find him staring at the rear doors.
‘What now?’ I asked.
Outside the door to the driver’s cab slammed shut. For a few seconds none of us moved. Then Matt pressed his ear to the doors.
‘What can you hear?’ I asked, joining him.
‘Nothing. But that could mean anything.’
I looked back at Gracie, who was just visible in the darkness.
‘If we hide at the back we might be able to slip out while they’re unloading,’ I said.
‘Or we might end up trapped with nowhere to hide.’
‘Then what should we do?’
‘I say we go now.’
‘But what if there’s somebody just outside?’
He glanced at me and for a moment I saw not wariness but something else, more like anger.
‘Then there’s somebody outside,’ he said.
For a second or two he stared at me. Finally I gave a small nod, and gestured to Gracie to join us. Grasping the handle that controlled the door, Matt drew it slowly downward.
As the lock released it gave a clank, not loud but loud enough. I tensed, alert for the sound of movement outside, but there was nothing. Taking a deep breath Matt leaned against the door and pushed it open.
We were in some kind of loading bay, a dirty, foul-smelling space with a concrete floor crowded with boxes and crates filled with food and soap powder and cheap clothes. To the right a group of dumpsters had been pushed untidily to one side, their interiors overflowing with cardboard and plastic; to the left a set of stairs led up to a raised area and a pair of scuffed plastic doors.
Matt looked at me, I gave a nod, and with a quick, fluid motion he turned and dropped quietly to the ground.
‘Quick,’ he said reaching up for Gracie. ‘Give her to me.’
I helped Gracie into his arms and dropped down beside the two of them. There didn’t seem to be anybody around. I glanced at the plastic doors to the left then back at Matt. He nodded in agreement. As quietly as I could I moved along the back of the truck and peered around the side of the truck.
The truck was standing on a shallow ramp that ran down toward a metal roller door and a guard booth, beside which an overweight man in work shorts and a stretched high-vis shirt was talking to a small, dark woman in a security uniform. Perhaps alerted by my movement the woman turned as I noticed her.
Jumping back behind the truck I flattened myself against it, but it was too late: the woman gave a shout and came running up the ramp toward us. Grabbing Gracie’s hand I pulled her toward the stairs.
‘Come on!’ I said.
I took the steps two at a time, Gracie stumbling after me, Matt behind her. Matt only barely made it up the stairs before the driver appeared around the back of the truck behind us, face flushed and shouting, but we didn’t wait to listen, just raced on, slamming through the plastic doors with my shoulder.
We burst into a supermarket of some sort, the milk section on one side, a line of ratty-looking Christmas paraphernalia on the other. Directly in front of us a tall man in a dress stood with a plastic shopping basket balanced in the crook of his elbow. No doubt we looked as suspicious as we felt because he stood staring at us, a container of milk in his hand, his face making it clear he was weighing up whether or not to shout for security. Unwilling to give him the chance I smiled as disarmingly as I could and, shoving past him, headed down the nearest aisle, Gracie and Matt close behind.
Once this had probably been an upmarket kind of place; now, like most stores, it was rundown and in poor repair, the floor scuffed and stained, a number of overhead lights blown. And while there was food and goods of various sorts on the shelves, there were as many gaps as there were things for sale.
With our backpacks and grimy clothes we looked out of place, but not that badly: more so even than at home, the people here looked tired and suspicious. By the entrance people were lined up, waiting for the registers; we slipped past them and headed out into the mall beyond.
It was hotter in the mall, the air-conditioning clearly having given in at some point, and the smell of mildew mingled with the thick smell of bodies and wet clothes. Like the supermarket the shops were dingy, and outside several of their owners were seated on plastic chairs, some cooling themselves with little handheld fans that whirred quietly.
Yet the mall was orderly compared to the street outside. As I led Gracie down the escalator to the footpath the noise and humidity hit us like a wall. On every available space vendors had spread goods on blankets: fruit and vegetables, bags of rice, cooking utensils, sunglasses and second-hand clothes, passers-by pushing their way past them or darting across the road through the traffic.
In the crowd we were just three more faces, but still, I was anxious, worried the guard or the driver might reappear or somebody might notice something odd about Gracie. Surreptitiously I scanned the faces of the people we passed, looking for some sign they were paying undue attention. As we reached the junction of the main road I looked back to see Matt lagging behind, his attention focused on a stall. I stopped, realising this was our chance to slip away and leave him behind. But while I knew that moment had to come, that I couldn’t chance travelling with somebody who might notice Gracie’s condition, I was surprised to realise part of me was reluctant to part from him so soon.
Tightening my grip on Gracie’s hand I willed myself to walk away, but before I could I caught movement on the periphery of my vision and turned to catch sight of a pair of black-uniformed Quarantine officers almost directly in front of me.
I stifled a gasp. One of them was running a scanner up and down the front of a man dressed in dirty jeans and a T-shirt. Her partner stood to one side, but as she finished her sweep he looked over at me and his eyes met mine.
Not knowing what else to do, I turned and headed back the way I’d come, fighting the urge to run and hoping my face hadn’t given me away. But I’d only gone a couple of steps when I heard a shout, and began to run, dragging Gracie behind me. As we passed Matt he opened his mouth to say something, only to notice the Quarantine officers behind me, but to my surprise he didn’t just stand there and let us pass, instead he came chasing after us.
I dragged Gracie through the crowd and out into the road. A bicycle swerved to miss us and its rider shouted angrily, but I didn’t slow down, just pelted on, pulling
Gracie after me. The Quarantine officers were shouting now, their cries drawing the attention of people on the footpaths. Up ahead was the main road, the buildings that flanked it lit up with neon lights and flashing screens. I didn’t slow down, just scooped Gracie up in my arms and charged out into the traffic.
Cars screamed to a stop as I dodged toward the centre of the road. As I neared the middle I saw a tram approaching. Frightened I wouldn’t make it past it in time, I slowed down, but then all of a sudden Matt appeared beside me, and shoved me and Gracie on, into its path. I closed my eyes, tensing for the impact, but it didn’t come, I was still alive, although as I stumbled clear of the tram a motorbike almost collided with us, its driver screaming furiously in Indonesian as he passed.
Then Matt was beside me again. ‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing my arm. ‘While we have a chance,’ and together we ran for the footpath, and then off down a narrow street lined with trees. The taller buildings gave way almost immediately to dilapidated rows of terrace houses, their front doors set on landings several metres above the street. In the trees solar lights cast a soft glow. In front of me Matt was already heading away down the street, but as I glanced back to look for the Quarantine officers I saw a narrow alley running off to one side.
‘No,’ I called after him. ‘This way.’ He turned in surprise, then nodded, and together we darted down the alleyway.
‘In here,’ he said, pulling me back into a doorway and out of sight.
At first I couldn’t speak, my heart was hammering so loud. In my arms Gracie was shaking, although whether from fever or fear I wasn’t sure. Behind us I heard the cries of the Quarantine officers heading off up the street.
‘What was that about?’ he demanded. ‘Why did you run?’
I didn’t answer, just stood, panting, Gracie clutched to my chest. I saw realisation dawn on Matt’s face.
‘She’s not sick,’ he said. ‘Is she? She’s Changing.’
I nodded. I expected him to back away, flee, but instead he remained still, clearly caught up in some internal argument.
‘We can’t stay here,’ he said at last. ‘They’ll have backup on the way.’
The Silent Invasion Page 6
