Wicked Bindup

by Paul Jennings

  Gramps grabbed her arm and pulled her back. ‘Leave them alone,’ he said gently. ‘After the battle there’s always a truce. Let them bury their dead in peace. We’ll wait in the car.’

  Howard and I kept walking. ‘How would we destroy my apple-man?’ said Howard. ‘Even if we wanted to.’

  I pointed to a small mound I’d noticed a bit earlier. ‘An old mine shaft,’ I said. ‘We could throw it down there.’

  We walked over to the mine shaft. It was a very deep, black hole that disappeared straight into the earth. Howard picked up a small stone and threw it down. Seconds passed. And more seconds. Then … clunk. The stone had hit the bottom.

  ‘Let’s drop the apple-man down there. That’ll kill it,’ I said sadly.

  ‘But it’s not alive,’ said Howard. ‘Not at the moment anyway.’ He turned the apple-man over in his hands. ‘It could come to life down there,’ he said. ‘It could infect a rat. Or a toadstool. Or another frog. Or a bit of fungus might grow on it. Or mould. It might come to life and climb out. And come after us. And we wouldn’t know. I think we should keep it.’

  I was tempted. But what if Dawn and Gramps were right? We couldn’t risk it. I tenderly took the apple-man from Howard’s hands and prepared to drop it into the black hole.

  An angry look swept across Howard’s face. He grabbed the apple-man’s head and pulled. His fingers dug into the brown, wrinkled skin and for a second I thought he was going to rip the head right off. I let go. I understood. He was just like me. He didn’t want to go through with it. He didn’t want to destroy Dad’s last gift.

  Howard stuffed the apple-man into the front of his jeans.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I whispered.

  I could see Dawn watching us from inside the car. Howard bent down and pretended to be peering into the mine shaft. He picked up a rock. Then he stood up and quickly threw the rock into the shaft. There was a long silence. Then we heard a distant thunk.

  ‘Goodbye, apple-man,’ he said in a fake loud voice. Howard winked at me. I grinned and winked back.

  ‘It’s better if the apple-man goes with us,’ he said softly. ‘Then if it starts to change or grow we’ll know. And we can deal with it. And if it doesn’t – then we’re no worse off.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ I said.

  We walked slowly back to the Morris Minor. The boot was still open. And the snail box was where Gramps had put it after he’d eaten the snail compass back at the children’s home. Howard placed the apple-man in the snail box and put the lid on. Then he hid it under the spare wheel.

  ‘He won’t get out of there,’ Howard whispered.

  ‘You hope,’ I said.

  I closed the lid of the boot and gave it a couple of thumps. The boot lock had never worked properly. It was a real old car. But still and all, it had stood up to the creeper so I couldn’t complain.

  When we got back into the car Dawn patted me on the hand and smiled kindly. ‘You did the right thing,’ she said. ‘I know it was hard. But we didn’t have any choice.’

  I started to feel guilty. I almost told her what we’d done. That the apple-man was hidden in the boot. Dawn turned to Howard and patted him too. She gave him the biggest brightest smile ever.

  I knew it. It was Howard she was interested in. She didn’t give a stuff about me. Anger and jealousy burned inside my guts. I gritted my teeth and said nothing about the apple-man. What Dawn didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

  That’s what I thought anyway.

  THREE

  Howard saw it first.

  ‘Look.’

  The rest of us turned and peered out the back window. A cloud of dust was travelling towards us along the road. Coming from the same direction as the root.

  ‘It’s a car,’ yelled Gramps excitedly.

  Rory and I didn’t join in the excitement. We knew Gramps was just being hopeful. There was no way poor old Gramps could spot a car a kilometre away. He found it hard enough telling Rice Bubbles from All Bran across a kitchen table.

  We couldn’t see what was coming towards us either. We squinted for a clue.

  I felt my bruised stomach tighten. What if Rory’s apple-man hadn’t been burnt to bits? What if the flames hadn’t travelled all the way back along the root to it? What if it had survived and infected something else that was hurtling towards us?

  ‘Howard,’ I said, ‘you’d better keep out of sight.’

  Howard looked alarmed. ‘Why?’ he said.

  I didn’t want to panic him. No point in saying scary stuff about the infection coming after him again until we knew for sure.

  ‘You’ve run away from a kids’ home,’ I said. ‘The authorities’ll be looking for you. Keep your head down.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Howard, huddling low on the back seat.

  ‘What about me?’ said Rory indignantly. ‘I’ve run away from a hospital. They’ll be looking for me too.’

  I sighed. Rory could be so childish sometimes. Then I saw his blotchy infected face and remembered it probably wasn’t his fault.

  ‘You too,’ I said to him. ‘You keep your head down too.’

  ‘And your bottom,’ said Gramps. ‘Des Kyle didn’t keep his bottom down at the Battle of El Ahid and a German camel bit him.’

  I wanted to scream at Gramps to start the car and get us out of there, but I remembered we didn’t have any petrol. Instead I gripped Mum’s shoe.

  Gramps and I got out of the car and turned to face the approaching dust cloud. It was about half a kilometre away. Images from Road Runner cartoons kept flashing through my mind. Except it wasn’t Road Runner and Wily Coyote I was seeing, it was horrible bloated nameless creatures.

  My chest hurt and I realised I’d stopped breathing.

  ‘Shoulders back,’ said Gramps. ‘Chest out. We might be in a pickle but we’re still Australians.’

  I couldn’t help grinning. There were times when a potty Gramps was better than a bullet-proof vest or a rocket-launcher.

  Something glinted in the dust cloud. Sunlight on glass. I strained my ears and caught the distant whine of an engine. Through the dust I saw glimpses of white duco.

  ‘It is a car,’ I gasped. ‘You ripper.’

  ‘Told you,’ said Gramps.

  It was a battered four-wheel drive. We waved wildly as it got closer, and it veered off the road and skidded to a stop in front of us.

  A tough-looking woman with leathery skin climbed out from behind the wheel.

  ‘Had a prang?’ she said.

  ‘We’ve run out of petrol,’ I said.

  ‘And water,’ said Gramps.

  ‘Jeez,’ said the woman. ‘You prepared well for your trip.’

  ‘If you must know …’ said Gramps indignantly. I gave his hand a hard squeeze and he pretended to be having technical problems with his teeth.

  The woman grabbed a jerry can and a funnel from the back of her four-wheel drive. She went over to the car and jammed the funnel into the petrol tank.

  I hurried after her, positive she’d spot Howard and Rory. But when I peeked through the window, all I could see were two mounds on the back seat covered in blankets.

  ‘Quite a load you’ve got there,’ said the woman, glugging the petrol in.

  ‘Chocolate cakes,’ said Gramps before I could stop him. ‘We’re on our way to a wedding.’

  The woman gave him a strange look.

  ‘I’ve put enough in there to get you back to town,’ she said.

  ‘You’re an angel,’ said Gramps.

  ‘Too right,’ I said warmly, but my insides weren’t smiling. Going back to Howard’s town meant risking him being captured by social workers. Plus it meant passing our camping spot. What if Rory’s apple-man was waiting there for us?

  The woman grabbed another can, let us both gulp some water, then filled our radiator.

  ‘How far to the next town?’ I asked.

  ‘Hundred and eighty clicks,’ said the woman. ‘I’m not giving you that much petrol.’
>
  ‘This has been more than kind,’ said Gramps, holding out one of his hub caps. ‘Could I have a drop of water in this? For the trip back?’

  The woman gave him another strange look and filled the hub cap. Gramps put it down carefully, then rummaged in his pocket.

  ‘Please,’ he said, holding out money. ‘I insist.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said the woman. ‘Buy me a beer some time.’

  She tossed the cans into the back of her four-wheel drive and climbed into the driver’s seat. An awful thought struck me. What if she was some sort of official who was suspicious but hiding it? Who was going to report us as soon as she could?

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said as casually as I could. ‘Are you in the State Emergency Service?’

  ‘No,’ laughed the woman, gunning her engine and pointing to the boxes of books on her back seat. ‘I’m a librarian.’

  She roared off in a cloud of dust.

  Rory and Howard drank the hub cap dry in about three seconds.

  Then we drove back towards town in silence. Nobody said much. Rory was probably thinking about his dad. Howard was probably thinking about what happened to people who ran away from kids’ homes and got caught. I was thinking about Rory’s apple-man.

  Suddenly, after about ten minutes, there it was at the side of the road. Our camping spot. Gramps slowed down. I could see the ashes of our camp fire. And near it, flat on its back, arms and legs clearly visible against the orange dust, the remains of Rory’s apple-man.

  Ashes.

  I gave a big whistle of relief. In the rear-vision mirror I saw Rory look away and the blotches on his face squirm a bit. I felt sorry for him, but I also felt safer than I had for the last two days.

  A bit further down the road I heard some knocking sounds from the back of the car.

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked.

  Gramps was on another planet humming to himself. I saw Rory and Howard look at each other. ‘Sounds like the rear suspension,’ said Howard. ‘Nothing serious. The rear shockers get a bit clunky on these old cars.’

  It sounded possible.

  After about an hour we reached the outskirts of town. Howard and Rory ducked under the blanket. Gramps and I found a petrol station on the other side of town to the kids’ home, but we still made Howard and Rory stay in the car.

  While Gramps filled up with petrol, I bought us all food and drink. I had enough coins left for a long-distance call, so I tried to ring Dad.

  There was no answer at our place. I got the number of the hospital from directory enquiries.

  ‘This is a relative of Jack Enright and Eileen Singer,’ I said, hoping my mouthful of burger would disguise my voice.

  I was put through to a matron who explained that Eileen’s condition had been too rare for them to diagnose, and she’d been transferred that morning to the infectious diseases unit at the Royal Prince Edward Hospital in the city, and Dad had gone with her.

  I felt a bit shocked that Dad would go that far away with Eileen when I was missing. Then I remembered they were newlyweds. Anyway, Dad knew I could look after myself.

  ‘Guess what,’ I said when I got back to the car. ‘Our parents are all in the city.’ I explained about Eileen and Jack.

  ‘Ace,’ said Howard. ‘Hope Mum’s hospital’s near Dad’s refinery.’

  Rory didn’t say anything.

  As we turned onto the main highway and set off for the city, I watched Rory in the rear-view mirror. He was slumped in the back seat, both arms and most of his face covered in blotches. He looked so unhappy I had to stop myself clambering back and giving him a hug. He didn’t want an ugly great lump like me all over him. Not when he was feeling so bad.

  I knew exactly how Rory was feeling. Soon we’d be coming face to face with Karl. Who was the reason the infection had come into our lives and put us all in terrible danger.

  Or was he?

  It was a crook thing for a kid. To want more than anything in the world to know the truth about your parent. And to fear more than anything in the world what that truth might be.

  I tried to get those thoughts out of my mind.

  ‘Gramps,’ I said. ‘Are you sure you’re okay to drive all the way to the city? It’s about five hours.’

  ‘Course I am,’ said Gramps. ‘I’ve always been good at driving long distances. On my honeymoon I drove sixteen hundred miles to Rockhampton. Seventeen hundred because we had to go back for the beer.’

  I wondered if I should try to persuade Gramps to take the long route to the city through our town. At least then we could call in at home and shower and change and freshen up. But that would mean a three-hour detour. I glanced back at Rory, who was looking sicker by the minute, and decided against it.

  Nobody said much for the next couple of hours. We were all lost in our own thoughts. Gramps hummed a bit and they weren’t military tunes so perhaps he was thinking about his honeymoon.

  I stared at the road and thought of the distance ahead and hoped the car body could stand the strain. I hoped Gramps’ body could too.

  I thought about Mum and felt a sick aching inside and wondered if I’d ever find out the truth about her death. I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. My only hope was if Rory survived long enough to help me find out. I prayed he would. Then I felt awful because I wanted him to survive for his sake too.

  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew Gramps was yelling.

  ‘There it is. There it is.’

  I blinked my eyes open. It was night, but there were thousands of lights all around us. On every side rows of lights stretched away into the distance. It was like another planet.

  But it wasn’t, it was the city.

  We were streaming forward in a river of cars. Ahead of us hundreds of brake lights glowed on and off. Even though they were red not green, they reminded me of another river at night and the evil eyes of the slobberers.

  Gramps was balancing his battered old street directory on his knees and juggling a torch and chortling to himself. ‘I’ve still got it,’ he was saying. ‘The old navigator’s still got it. Look.’

  I wasn’t sure what I was meant to be looking at. Gramps was pointing through my window. I wound it down so I could see better. The traffic noise was worse than the unrestricted event at our local speedway. The fumes were worse too. But mixed in with them I could taste something I’d never tasted away from the dinner table before.

  Salt.

  We were near the coast.

  Then I saw it. In the distance. A giant forest of dark shapes silhouetted against the electric glow of a far-off part of the city.

  The refinery.

  My insides went tight. In that dark jungle lay the future of our family. If we were lucky.

  We turned off the main road. As we got closer to the refinery the street lights got dimmer, then vanished. The only lights ahead of us were the two beams of our car.

  Already I was having a bad feeling.

  I could hear Rory and Howard stretching and grunting in the back. And I could hear something else. A banging sound coming from the rear of the car.

  ‘That’s not the rear shockers, is it?’ I said.

  Rory and Howard didn’t say anything.

  ‘What?’ said Gramps. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  Suddenly he braked sharply. The car shuddered to a stop. The road had run out. In front of us stood tall wire gates. On them I could see big rusty letters.

  AMPACO. Just like on the apple-man uniforms.

  ‘Dad’s refinery,’ yelled Rory. He flung the car door open and leapt out.

  ‘Wait,’ I shouted, going after him.

  I’d already seen what he was about to see.

  In the mountainous jumble of giant tanks, pipes, ladders, buildings and walkways looming over us, there wasn’t a single light. The rusted wire gates were chained shut.

  The refinery was abandoned.

  ‘No,’ screamed Rory. ‘Dad.’

  He hurled himself at the g
ates and tried to tear them open. Then he started climbing them.

  ‘Don’t,’ I shouted. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘We’ll find another way in,’ shouted Howard.

  ‘Tunnels are good,’ croaked Gramps.

  ‘Rory,’ I yelled. ‘There’s no point. He’s not here. You’ll hurt yourself.’

  It was too late. Rory’s foot slipped. He hung for a moment, scrabbling at the wire, then fell.

  Thankfully it had been raining and the ground was muddy. When we got to him he was lying on his back in a puddle, eyes open.

  They were moving. His pupils were huge in the glare from the headlights. At first I thought he had concussion. Then he spoke.

  ‘How’s Dawn, Mrs Enright?’

  My heart leapt into my throat.

  ‘Is he hurt?’ asked Gramps anxiously.

  Rory wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t even lying on his back in a mud puddle. He was six hundred kilometres and five years away, enjoying the ride home from school on the day my mother died.

  On the bus.

  FOUR

  For some reason it felt strange being the last one on the bus. Just me and Mrs Enright. She was a really nice person and a good bus driver. The only thing I didn’t like about her was her daughter.

  Dawn Enright.

  Talk about bossy. Just because she was the fastest runner in the school she thought she could tell you what to do.

  And talk. Boy, could she talk. Always raving on about sheep and dags and fly-blown lamb bottoms. And always eating curried-egg sandwiches.

  But Mrs Enright was always nice to me. I think she felt sorry for me because I didn’t know where my dad was.

  ‘Come and sit up the front with me, Rory,’ she said. ‘It’s warm near the heater.’

  I scrambled into the little seat up the front next to the driver and watched as we bumped over the winding country road. Mrs Enright started to sing a little song to herself. It’s funny, I thought, how adults sing the same song over and over. It can drive you bonkers.

  ‘Marie, the dawn is breaking,

  Marie, you’ll soon be waking,

  To find, your heart is breaking.

  Marie.’