The Silent Invasion

by James Bradley

  Whoever had lived here hadn’t been home for a while, and from the way the cupboards had been left standing open, most of their contents removed, it seemed safe to assume they weren’t coming back. Judging by the mess in what I assumed had been the living room, somebody else had slept here for a while at some point, but for the most part the place seemed reasonably clean and untouched.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Gracie said.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘It’s scary.’

  ‘It’s just a house,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’ But Gracie didn’t look convinced.

  ‘It’s only for tonight,’ I said, trying to reassure her.

  Just then Matt appeared from the kitchen. ‘Look what I found,’ he said, holding up a box of candles.

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  I made up a bed for Gracie on the sofa in the living room and sat down on the floor beside her, stroking her hair as I waited for her to fall asleep. In the low light of the candles she was beautiful, her skin glowing, her eyes luminous and dark, but as I touched her skin she felt too warm, the Change burning through her. After a while she closed her eyes, and a minute or two later I removed my hand, but as I did she spoke.

  ‘It feels like I’m moving,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ I asked, confused.

  ‘When I close my eyes it feels like I’m moving. Like I’m in the van.’

  I stroked her arm. I was tense and restless after so many hours on the road.

  ‘That’s just because we were in the van for so long,’ I said. ‘It’s not real.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You’ll be here, won’t you? All night?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll be right here beside you on the floor,’ but she was already asleep.

  Drawing my knees up to my chest I looked across at Matt, who was sitting in an armchair watching me.

  ‘She’s getting worse, isn’t she?’ he asked, but I didn’t answer, just turned away and lay down.

  Deep in the night I woke suddenly to find Matt kneeling over me. Startled, I opened my mouth to speak, but he put a finger to his lips and, turning, pointed at the window.

  Outside it was still dark, the only light the moon. At first it was silent, but then I heard footsteps, and glimpsed the light of a torch somewhere outside. Looking at Matt I mouthed the words ‘Who is it?’ but he only shook his head. Reaching out I placed a hand on Gracie. Suddenly torchlight appeared at the window. I dropped my face onto the sofa and held my breath. For several seconds I lay motionless, waiting for someone to call out or react, certain they must have seen me or Matt. But then the torch beam moved again, dancing quickly around the room and away, followed by the sound of footsteps moving off down the side.

  For half a minute there was silence, then the torches reappeared, this time at the back of the house, their lights moving restlessly across the walls and floor. Again somebody spoke, then I heard the handle turn, somebody rattling the door in its frame.

  I was certain the door would give, that they would burst in and find us, but then the noise stopped, and I heard a voice I recognised as Koni’s say, quite distinctly, ‘Anything?’ and a man answer, ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Are they gone?’ I hissed once it was quiet again.

  ‘I think so. For now,’ Matt said. I felt him move closer in the darkness.

  ‘Shall I stay here?’ he asked.

  At first I didn’t answer: I wasn’t sure about having him so close.

  ‘All right,’ I said at last, shifting myself up and in, pressing my face to Gracie’s sleeping warmth.

  10

  It was a long time before I fell asleep again. Instead I lay there, in the dark, listening to Matt’s breathing on the floor below me, Gracie’s beside me, my body tensing every time I heard a scratch or a cry in the darkness outside. Yet somehow I must have slept again, because when I awoke it was light, and Gracie was gone.

  I sat up. I could hear voices coming from the back of the house and, rising, I went out to find Matt and Gracie sitting on the floor by the back windows. Gracie had a pen in her hand and was drawing on an old piece of paper, her face intent, absorbed in what she was doing. Matt looked up at me.

  Seated there he looked different: less angry, certainly, but also gentler. He smiled but didn’t speak. Next to him Gracie paused, then began to colour something in.

  She had only started school a few months before, but being Gracie she had taken to it with the effortlessness with which she took to all things, making friends, charming her teacher, learning to read almost immediately. Although I had always been good at school none of it had ever come easy to me, quite the opposite in fact, and although I worked and worked, it often felt as if I was pushing toward something I didn’t really understand.

  Standing there I could see the effect Gracie had had on Matt, the way she’d relaxed him, and it filled me with love. But even so I knew it couldn’t last; the presence of the Change in her system meant I was slowly losing her.

  Perhaps I made a sound, because Gracie looked up.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked, willing my voice not to break or quaver.

  ‘Drawing.’

  ‘I found the paper in the cupboard,’ Matt said. ‘I thought you needed the sleep.’

  I didn’t answer. All at once I was irritated by the whole scene.

  ‘We should get moving,’ I said.

  Matt looked up, surprised. I realised I wanted him to object, but he didn’t, instead he just placed a hand on Gracie’s.

  ‘I think we need to get moving,’ he said.

  She looked at me, and I found myself immediately regretting my tone.

  ‘Can I draw some more later?’ she asked, and Matt smiled.

  ‘Sure,’ he said, standing up.

  ‘Go get your things,’ I said to Gracie, gesturing to the room where we had slept. I waited until she’d gone and then looked at Matt. I could see from his face he was confused by my irritation.

  ‘We need to get out of here,’ I said.

  ‘We do,’ he said.

  ‘We can’t go by road though, can we?’

  Matt shook his head. ‘It’s too risky.’

  ‘So we walk?’

  ‘I think we need to stay off the highway as well.’

  He looked past me at Gracie.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you think she can make it?’

  ‘I don’t think I have a choice.’

  He nodded.

  ‘You don’t have to come with us,’ I said, the words spilling out before I could stop them. ‘If we get caught they’ll arrest you as well.’

  He looked at me. ‘But you won’t.’

  ‘Won’t what?’

  ‘Get caught.’

  I looked at him. Not for the first time I found myself wondering why he had elected to come with us.

  ‘That was Koni last night, wasn’t it?’ I said.

  Matt nodded.

  ‘Do you think they followed us from the van?’

  ‘I don’t know. Possibly.’

  ‘Why?’

  Matt shrugged. ‘There are rewards for catching people who are trying to evade Quarantine.’ He hesitated.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve heard stories about people up here . . . doing things to the Changed.’

  ‘Hurting them?’

  He nodded. ‘And worse.’

  I hesitated, trying to imagine Koni hurting Gracie. Despite his suspiciousness the day before it seemed difficult to believe he would do such a thing.

  ‘Why didn’t they come inside?’ I asked at last.

  ‘I don’t know. I was sure they’d seen me.’

  I stared at him, aware how little I knew about him. ‘I’d better go and get Gracie,’ I said.
/>   We took a back road north and followed it westward toward the river. As we left the town behind, the houses gave way to low bush and trees, broken here and there by wide pools of water that shimmered in the sun. Although it was still early the sun was already hot, the air filled with piercing light and the metallic pulsation of insects.

  I felt and Matt agreed that it was too risky to head back into town to look for food. But that meant that although we had managed to fill our water bottles at a tap in the yard of one of the houses on the edge of town, none of us had eaten, and as we walked it was difficult not to be aware of how empty our stomachs were.

  Our plan was simple: walk as far and as fast as we could. At the same time we hoped to be able to mostly avoid the highway by heading inland once we had crossed the river. But as we made our way toward the river that plan seemed increasingly fanciful. More than three hundred kilometres lay between us and the Zone; even without Gracie that meant weeks of walking; with her in good health it might take a month or more, with her so distracted and feverish it seemed an impossible feat.

  As we walked questions kept repeating themselves in my mind. What would we eat? What would we drink? Where would we sleep? It was hot now, but what if it got cold or started to rain? Even I knew that people died in the bush. Did we have enough clothes? Were we taking too much of a risk travelling in the daylight? But behind them all was another question, one I couldn’t keep at bay: what would happen if Quarantine caught us?

  There were other risks as well. Between us and the Zone lay the Transitional, a swathe of countryside more than a hundred kilometres wide patrolled by Quarantine and the Army. The Transitional was designed to create a buffer between the unaffected regions and the alien wilderness of the Zone, a way of preventing incursions from the north. But it was also designed to discourage anybody who chose to run, because anybody found there would be shot on sight, meaning entering the Transitional was as close to suicide as you could get.

  Watching Matt ahead of me I wondered about his story about his brother, why he was being so vague about where he was stationed, what it was he was running from back in Adelaide.

  By eleven Gracie was too tired to walk any further, so we found a quiet spot under some trees and sat down. I let her drink, then took the bottle from her, the unpleasant warmth of the water reminding me of how hungry I was. Once I was finished I studied Gracie’s face. All morning she had seemed pale, distracted, her manner curiously dislocated. I tried to tell myself it was nothing sinister, that she was just tired and hot, but it was difficult to believe.

  ‘We have to get some food,’ I said to Matt.

  He nodded. ‘When we get to the highway there will be somewhere.’ He looked tired, and slightly glassy.

  ‘I hope so,’ I said.

  As we approached the highway the trees gave way to open grass and then a wide area of ruined dirt and stubble marking the site of a sterilisation. This one was large, the scorched ground spreading hundreds of metres in every direction. I glanced over at Matt and saw he had a curious expression on his face, his jaw set and eyes fixed in front of him.

  Gracie was dragging her feet; for what seemed the thousandth time I pulled her arm, urging her to hurry up, which she did for a step or two before dawdling again.

  Once we entered the sterilised area the highway was clearly visible ahead, the road rising toward a metal bridge, its cage of beams enclosing two lanes of traffic. At some point the middle section had given way – presumably in a flood – and been rebuilt with some kind of temporary structure. On the approach a line of cars and trucks were banked up, which I assumed at first was the result of the bridge being damaged. But as we grew closer I suddenly noticed a group of uniformed figures standing by the entrance to the bridge.

  Next to me I felt Matt hesitate.

  ‘Don’t stop walking,’ I said, careful to keep my eyes forward.

  ‘What are they doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Searching the cars,’ I said. As I spoke one of them ran a detector on a stick under a car and called something to one of the others.

  ‘Why are they stopping the traffic heading north? I thought they were only interested in people heading south.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps it’s some kind of surprise operation.’

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ Matt said.

  ‘In a second,’ I said. ‘They’ve probably got drones as well, so if we run they’ll know.’

  ‘Then what?’

  I glanced back down the line of cars and across the road. ‘Over there,’ I said. ‘If we keep going they’ll probably assume we’re just out walking.’

  Matt followed my gaze. On the other side of the road the grass began again, spreading down toward the river.

  ‘And if they don’t?’

  ‘We’ll worry about that then,’ I said, pulling on Gracie’s hand and slipping behind a truck. I scanned the opposite lane and then shot across and down toward the river.

  ‘What now?’ Matt asked.

  ‘Just keep walking,’ I said. ‘And don’t look back.’

  As we picked our way toward the treeline I tried to stay calm, willing myself not to break into a run. In my mind I could feel the figures on the bridge watching us, hear a drone hovering overhead, transmitting images of us to one of Quarantine’s databanks, searching for a match. Only as we reached the trees did I glance back. And as I did I saw one of the Quarantine officers staring back along the line of traffic, her face suddenly, unmistakeably familiar.

  11

  As soon as the bridge was out of sight I broke into a run, dragging Gracie after me. I had no reason to think the Quarantine officer had seen us, but I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence that she was here now: she had to have realised who we were and set off after us.

  ‘What is it?’ Matt asked.

  ‘The officer on the bridge. She’s the one who spoke to us yesterday.’

  ‘At the truckstop?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then that roadblock, it must be for us,’ Matt said.

  ‘It would explain why they were stopping the cars heading north.’

  Behind me Gracie stumbled. Turning I scooped her up and hurried on with her on my hip.

  ‘Why didn’t we cross the bridge?’ Gracie asked.

  ‘Because the people who were looking for us were there,’ I said, staring ahead.

  ‘Are they coming after us now?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. Or I don’t think so.’

  I crashed on for another five or ten minutes, silently cursing myself and glancing back over my shoulder and skyward. Finally I heard Matt come to a halt behind me. I turned back to find him sweating and panting.

  ‘I think we’re safe for now,’ he said.

  ‘They could have sent someone after us.’

  ‘If they did they’d be here by now,’ he said.

  I hesitated. Gracie shifted in my arms, and all of a sudden I was aware of the ache in my shoulders and back from carrying her.

  ‘Okay,’ I said, lowering Gracie to the ground.

  Matt took a step toward me. ‘So what now?’ he said, staring out over the river at the opposite bank, two or three hundred metres distant.

  I followed his gaze. ‘I don’t know. I guess we head downstream, look for somewhere else to cross.’

  We walked along the riverbank for most of the afternoon. In places the bush had been swept away by the water at some point, leaving high mounds of red earth and flattened grass, but most of the time the trees and undergrowth crowded close to the bank, making it necessary to clamber through them or climb down and wade in the muddy shallows.

  Once, only a few weeks ago, Gracie would have loved what we were doing. Although most children had been taught to fear the natural world due to the possibility of infection in uncontrolled environments, Gracie had always been happiest picking flow
ers or scratching around in the dirt.

  Occasionally I had wondered whether this was something she got from Dad, whose fascination with the processes of life, with the way things lived and breathed and grew, had filled his life. Once, a year or so after he Changed, I asked Claire about him, about why he had become a scientist, and she said she didn’t think he could have been anything else: more than anybody she had ever known he saw beauty in the way the world worked, in the infinite complexity of life.

  ‘For him understanding the world was a way of loving it,’ she said.

  ‘So the Change must have made him sad,’ I said, and Claire smiled.

  ‘At first, I suppose. But I think he was fascinated by it as well, by the idea of it. Alien biology, as ancient as the Earth’s or older. It’s incredible, really.’

  As Claire spoke I heard something in her voice I had not expected; not hate or anger, but something more like wonder. I stared at her, appalled. ‘You sound like you admire it.’

  She shook her head. ‘Of course not. It’s monstrous. But the scientist in me can’t help but be amazed by it, and neither could the scientist in your father.’ She paused. ‘The Change isn’t the real enemy, Callie, our fear is. Fear stops us thinking, makes us dangerous. If we give in to it we’re lost. Your father knew that, that’s why he worked so hard to understand the Change; because he knew that the only way to stop it is to understand it.’

  Finally, late in the afternoon, I glimpsed the remains of a second, smaller bridge stretched across the river in the distance. I poked Matt and pointed it out to him. He nodded, then glanced skyward.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, and he looked around.

  ‘If they’re guarding the highway they may well have drones patrolling other crossings.’

  I looked up as well.

  ‘I don’t see anything.’

  Matt nodded. ‘No, neither do I.’

  Perhaps this bridge had been the original, a relic of the time before the bigger one on the highway was constructed, perhaps it had always been a second bridge, serving a back road; but either way it was now in ruins, the central span long since swept away so only the broken skeleton of the approaches and a line of piles protruded from the water. Shimmying up the bank I looked across: the road on the far side was closed, the asphalt broken and choked with undergrowth.