Jolt

by Bernard Beckett

  ‘Right. Where was I?’

  ‘The choices.’ The rest of us were still sitting but Rebecca had finished her food and was standing at Ms Jenkins’s shoulder, her self-appointed lieutenant.

  ‘Yeah. Well, we can stay here for another night, maybe even two, and wait for things to sort themselves out down there. The radio will come back on, I’m sure of that, and we can let everybody know we’re all right and take advice from the experts. The other option is to very carefully make our way out, back the way we came in. It’ll be slow going, depending on the slips, three days maybe, I don’t know.’

  ‘Yeah, walk out. Definitely,’ Jonathon said.

  ‘Because?’ asked Rebecca.

  ‘Food. We stay here and I’m going to starve.’

  ‘There’s heaps of food.’

  ‘Not that much.’

  ‘We brought all those emergency rations. We’ll be fine.’

  ‘Actually we should sort that out first,’ Ms Jenkins said. ‘It is a good point. Let’s get all our food and bring it here, see what we’ve got. All of it, secret stashes included.’

  What happened next was what I knew would happen. The pile that formed on the table wasn’t all that impressive. There was a block of chocolate, a couple of rice risottos, my half-packet of gingernuts, a carrot, a small salami and a packet of squashed bread rolls. Ms Jenkins added cheese, crackers and a huge bag of scroggin but it still looked like our decision was going to be made for us.

  ‘No way.’ Lisa looked at the table disbelievingly. ‘There was heaps more than that. What about the loaves of bread, and the pasta?’

  ‘Rats got it,’ Jonathon reminded her.

  ‘Not the pasta.’

  ‘Yeah, where is it?’ Rebecca asked.

  I looked at Jonathon and he looked at me and we both thought about lying.

  ‘We, ah, ate it,’ I admitted. ‘That night at Riversdale, we went out later. We were really hungry, after you burnt the pizza, and...’

  ‘Who?’ Rebecca demanded. ‘Who ate it? There were five packets.’

  ‘Me, and Jonathon, and some guys were up playing cards. They helped.’

  ‘It’s not like we could have known this was going to happen,’ Jonathon tried, but there was no point. It hadn’t seemed important at the time, but that was a lame defence and we knew it. Rebecca glared at us both and we stood in embarrassed silence. I hoped Ms Jenkins would come to our rescue but she didn’t.

  ‘Maybe there’s still enough,’ Lisa tried. She looked to Ms Jenkins. ‘So what do you think we should do?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘No.’ Lisa was adamant. ‘You decide. It’s too important. We’ll just get it wrong.’

  ‘Look, put it this way,’ Ms Jenkins said. ‘I don’t think either option is bad, so long as we’re all agreed and sensible. Normally I’d say stay put, no problem, but we don’t know how bad things are down in the city. Help might be a while coming. But whatever we decide we all have to do it together, so I want to know what you’re all thinking.’

  We tried our best to tell her, talking ourselves round in nervous circles. Staying put did seem to be the sensible choice, the sort they’d advise in mountain safety videos. Against that was the fact that we all wanted to get home. The thought of days of just waiting, watching the food pile getting smaller and smaller, worrying about the earthquake, our friends and our families, was too much. We voted three to one in favour of walking out. I was the one. I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to show that I could be responsible, after stuffing up with the pasta.

  ‘Let’s do it then,’ Ms Jenkins said.

  ‘But are you sure it’s the right decision?’ Lisa pressed.

  ‘Is now. Next thing, go and get your maps and compasses. We need to go over the possible routes out of here.’

  ‘Ah, and if we haven’t got maps and compasses?’ Jonathon asked. I looked at my feet. So did Lisa. There had been a lunchtime when we were meant to go and pick them up, but the sun had been shining. Another thing that hadn’t seemed important at the time.

  ‘Jesus!’ Rebecca erupted. ‘So you eat our survival rations, you don’t have any means of navigation, do you even have raincoats?’ I thought guiltily of my jacket, borrowed at the last minute, sort of waterproof.

  ‘Come on Rebecca,’ Ms Jenkins said. ‘Don’t let it get to you.’

  ‘But it does get to me. Look at them. They’re all so fucken useless.’

  ‘And you’re so perfect,’ Lisa replied. That made Jonathon smile. Me, I didn’t much care what she thought. I was tired. Things had screwed up. It was time to go home. In my head the trip was already over. We had failed but it wasn’t exactly our fault, that’s how I saw it.

  Rebecca took her scowl back to her bunk and returned with map and compass. She dropped them on the table in front of us and walked to the other side to share with Ms Jenkins.

  ‘It’s a map,’ she said. ‘It helps if you open it up.’

  ‘Right then.’ Ms Jenkins tried to quietly herd us back to more important things. I don’t know why she didn’t just shout, or slap us about a bit. ‘We go back along here, past Hell’s Gate. I imagine here, and here, and maybe here too, will be worst hit with the slips. That’d mean big detours. We can’t climb above them because it’s a ridge so we’ll be cutting down through bush a lot. Then, once we get to here, it’s either down Bull Mound or along Marchant. Hopefully we’ll have a better idea of which will be best by then. You need to make sure your gear is as waterproof as you can make it. I’ve got spare plastic bags if anyone needs them. I don’t know how hard this will be but we should expect to spend at least one night out in the bush. Any questions?’

  ‘Let’s just do it.’

  ‘Okay. First though I want to hear how you’re all feeling about this. Be honest. Rebecca?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘Still pissed off with the others?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Get over it.’ I saw Rebecca thinking about replying but she smiled instead. ‘Good. How about you, Jonathon?’

  ‘Looking forward to it.’

  ‘Seriously.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ he shrugged.

  ‘Lisa?’

  ‘I’m a bit tired I guess, and a bit scared.’

  ‘What of?’

  ‘Not being able to keep up.’

  ‘Right, you walk in the middle then. Okay, we’re ready.’

  ‘Ah, Miss.’ It was Lisa who noticed.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You haven’t asked Marko.’

  Ms Jenkins tried to look surprised, and confused too, but I’d seen what had happened. She’d gone blank on my name. Remembered Lisa’s, forgotten mine. I was red with embarrassment, and pissed off too. I didn’t know I could be so missable.

  ‘So, Marko.’ Using my name again, trying to make sure. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I just want to get moving,’ I replied sulkily, and she left it at that.

  ‘Fair enough. Before you put your packs on I’m just going to have a ten minute run down the track, to make sure it isn’t totally impassable. I’ll be back soon. Maybe scrub down that bench while you’re waiting, eh? And this is the last time you’ll be near a long drop for a few days probably. Worth considering.’

  She left her pack at the door and was gone. We waited, at first watching Rebecca work on the aluminium benchtop with a disgusting old scourer that had been left at the water tank. Then Jonathon suggested a game of cards but Rebecca said there wasn’t time. After that we sat in silence, apart from Lisa asking what the time was and Jonathon saying, ‘Told you there was time for a game.’

  I didn’t think too much of it. I wasn’t worried. Ms Jenkins could look after herself. If she was taking her time there’d be a good reason. Only time kept passing.

  ‘She’s been gone forty-five minutes now,’ Lisa announced. ‘It’s been too long.’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do. She’ll be back soon,’ Jonathon said.

  ‘But maybe we should
go and look for her.’

  ‘Away you go then.’

  ‘I didn’t mean me.’

  ‘It’s the worst thing we could do anyway,’ Rebecca told us. ‘You should never split up a group if you don’t have to.’

  Somehow that really got to me. It was her, talking like she was so much better than us, like we were children. I was sick of it, same as I was sick of being invisible. So I was standing up before I’d even thought about it.

  ‘I’m going out to check anyway,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ I was out the door before anyone spoke. I think they were as surprised as I was. No one followed.

  Outside the world seemed strangely normal. The bush has a long memory I suppose, it’s seen plenty of earthquakes. There was the familiar smell of damp earth and the leaves were beaded with misty rain. Normal sights. Normal sounds. Darker than I remembered it though, and less friendly. The further I went the more aware I became of the depth of the bush, its shadows. I felt naked without my pack, alone without the others. Although the muddy track was easy to follow I could feel it closing in behind me with every step. I went from a quick walk to a jog, hoping to outrun the fear rising in my throat. I looked for Ms Jenkins around each new bend but there was no sign of her. I wished I hadn’t been so quick to prove a point. I wished I was back in the hut with the others. But I kept going.

  The first voice I heard was a man’s. It was so unexpected it stopped me dead. Although I couldn’t make out what he’d said, something in the sound of it kicked at my heart. I looked to where it had come from, past a point where the track curled up over the ridge, out of view. Then came Ms Jenkins’s voice. This time I was still and ready, able to make out the words.

  ‘Look, I’ve already asked you clearly. Please just let me go.’ A voice trying to sound calm and reasonable, but breaking up on the sharp edges of panic. That’s when I should have acted. I should have shouted out. I should have turned and run back for the others. It wasn’t that far. I shouldn’t have just stood there, or edged forward the way I did, a stupid, useless spectator.

  I crouched as I moved up the track, trying to be silent but finding every twig, every loose stone, with my feet.

  ‘You’ll go when we want you to go.’

  ‘You know what this is, don’t you? This is assault.’

  ‘This is me not giving a shit actually. We’re just being friendly. You haven’t even told us your name.’

  ‘Let me go.’

  Then I could see them. I was half-lying, leaning into the steps in the track, raising my head up over an exposed tree root. They were only ten metres ahead of me. There are lots of things I have forgotten, but not this. Not a single detail has worked itself free.

  There were three men, all with their backs to me. The tallest wore a bright red coat which covered his shorts. His legs were the legs of a tramper, balled calves over thick woollen socks. He had backed Ms Jenkins into a tree and held her wrists above her head, pinned against the trunk. The men on either side were both shorter and wore hooded jackets. One was slender and the other stocky, judging by their legs. The heavier one had a hunting rifle over his shoulder. They both seemed relaxed, as if nothing special was happening. One had his hands stuffed in his pockets, the other’s hung loosely at his side.

  Most of all I remember Ms Jenkins, or the little I could see of her. She was wearing her dark short-sleeved icebreaker, and the same grey shorts she’d been wearing the whole trip. I remember one of her bootlaces was undone, and her watch was on the ground at her feet. I only caught a glimpse of her face, fighting a battle between anger and control. I felt angry too, and every time I remember it I feel angrier still. Angry at him, at all of them, but angrier at myself. Angry that I didn’t move, didn’t shout, didn’t do a thing. Angry that I could be that close, and only stay and watch.

  I have tried to tell myself it was because I didn’t properly understand what was happening, but that isn’t the truth. The truth is, when I was tested, I turned out to be a coward.

  ‘You know something?’ It was the tall one who did all the talking. He leaned his weight over Ms Jenkins and my view of her was blocked. ‘You’re even prettier when you’re angry. Do you have a husband back home? Boyfriend?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Am I being too subtle for you?’

  I don’t care now what he said. He knew what he was doing. There wasn’t any craziness in his voice. It was deliberate, every word of it, every action. Darkly deliberate.

  ‘Fuck you!’

  That was it. My last chance to act. I’ve played it out a thousand times since in my head and it is always then, in that split second, when she cracked and there was no more pretending, that I make my move. But there was no move, and my chance was gone.

  It all happened so quickly then, unfolding before me like a series of still photographs, flopping one on top of the other, from one horrible image to the next, until the final, inevitable picture comes down. No credits to roll, no names for the actors, no make-up wiped clean or lights coming up.

  He lets go of one wrist, moving slowly, confidently, three men and a gun, with no rules to follow, nothing to fear. His hand comes down, brushes her cheek, traces the outline of her breast. She strikes out. Not with her hand but with her knee, catching his groin and doubling him over. She moves forward. I watch. They close in, one on either side, a shoulder each, driving her back against the tree. He recovers enough to stand. An obscenity from him. She returns it. Then the blow, an arm swinging up just as she struggles to get free. Her head is forward when it connects. The impact snaps it back. An awful crack, the back of her skull against the tree. Her body crumples forward. Still I watch.

  All three of them, standing over her. ‘Jesus, I think you might have…’ Silence.

  ‘She’s all right. Stand back.’

  ‘No look. There’s…’

  ‘Oh fuck.’ ‘You mean…’

  Fumbling about her neck, her head. Then no movement. A stillness and a silence extending through the valleys, emptying me of feeling.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be…’

  ‘You’ve killed her.’

  That simple. That stupid. That small. It isn’t meant to be like that. Death should be important. It should be grand. Not just a moment, out of nowhere. Alive, checking out a path, strangers, then, without warning, without fanfare, not alive. It seemed so tiny, so pointless, so ugly.

  And as soon as they said it, as soon as I heard the word, I was moving, and they were chasing me.

  Even when you’re running for your life your body is still only your body. You don’t suddenly sprout wings, or develop superhuman powers, the way they do in the movies. You can’t just sprint away at top speed, on and on. Twenty seconds if you’re lucky, that’s all you get. Then your body is gone. You slow down, you have to. You gasp for air. Your lungs burn, your muscles are emptied, you are reduced to a stagger. New oxygen reaches your legs and you go again, but not sprinting. If the people chasing understand this, they pace themselves. That way, even if they are slower, they will catch you. I was lucky. They were panicking, sprinting too, crashing down the track behind me, giving me a chance. I could hear their footsteps, a desperate rhythm behind me, not gaining, not fading. I hit the wall. My lungs gave out and I was sure they must catch me then but when I looked behind I saw only the first of them, just in view, but stopped like I was, doubled over, sucking in the air. It gave me hope.

  I went again, understanding I would have to settle into a pace I could maintain back to the hut. I am not especially fit but I am seventeen. I don’t have a car. I walk places, I play some soccer and am in a touch team. I go to judo twice a week. They were men, years of sitting-down jobs weighing down their legs, years of one-more-round at the pub clinging to their sides. I was getting away from them although I could hear they weren’t giving up. I needed to be further ahead, so that when I reached the hut there would be time to warn the others. I kicked again, demanding an impossible effort from my b
ody, looking for another gear. It hurt so much I could taste the vomit in my throat, but then I saw the green roof and my body forgot the pain.

  ‘Guys! Guys! You’ve got to run!’ There was no breath left for shouting and the words barely carried as far as my own ears.

  ‘Hey Marko!’ Lisa called out from the balcony, looking too relaxed, not understanding. ‘Hey you guys, Marko’s back.’

  My pursuers must have heard and the sound of other voices must have panicked them even more, because a second later a rifle shot exploded into the air, echoing across the scarred valleys. I didn’t have to explain.

  ‘Leave the packs, no time,’ was all I got out. Alpha Hut has a back door and I ran right through, just hoping they would understand and follow. Later they told me I looked so scared, red and sweating with empty eyes, that even without the gun shot they would have known. I ran hard, up past the long drop, but my legs had gone and they quickly overtook me.

  ‘Where to?’ ‘The bush,’ I croaked. ‘Hide.’

  We cut back to the right, down off the track, crashing through undergrowth and sliding down steep slopes. After a couple of minutes we stumbled to a stop, pressed in close behind the carcass of a toppled rimu. We waited and we listened, the others with their heads bursting with questions, mine spinning with answers I didn’t want to believe.

  13

  APRIL 22 Last night he came back round to check on me again. I was awake, waiting. It has got so I can recognise the smell of him now. He is a smoker and doesn’t wear aftershave. He carries the scent of freshly washed clothes. I kept my eyes closed and pictured my heart slowing down. I can make that happen now. It is just practice. There was a moment when his breathing slowed too, as if he had realised. The two of us, paused in the darkness, wondering if this might be a good time to kill. Both waiting for the other to make a move. I didn’t flinch and neither did he. I heard him walk closer to the end of my bed, where the charts are. He came forward, took my wrist. His fingers were cold against my pulse. He must have felt my heart leap. Then he walked away slowly, his feet barely making any sound against the floor. Only his clicking ankles gave him away. He stopped outside my door for a while, hoping he had tricked me. Or maybe he is becoming afraid. He should be.