The Rain Never Came

by Lachlan Walter

  ‘You nearly there?’

  I looked at him darkly. He was right; we needed to get moving, to get home. There was no time to sit around with our feet up. I decided to get it together, or make an attempt at least. But nothing came.

  ‘You a bit shell-shocked, mate?’

  I didn’t answer, tried taking another step. Nothing. The signal just wouldn’t go through.

  ‘Right, then.’

  Quick as a striking snake, he pushed hard on my chest. I rocked on my heels and flailed around, then started to fall.

  ‘Good one,’ Tobe said, catching me.

  I righted myself, shook him away, and raised my hand in a fist. Nothing else crossed my mind. Tobe caught my hand, forced it down.

  ‘We should get a move on, now that you’ve got your beans back.’

  I couldn’t believe his cheek. Without another word, he started walking away. Somewhat reluctantly, I followed. What else could I do? He wasn’t moving fast, but it was soon too much for me. I shuffled, dragging my feet. Every so often, Tobe looked over his shoulder to make sure I was okay. Whenever he did so, I would smile and make a pathetic effort to speed up. He would ignore my smile, turn back, and tramp on.

  We weaved around dying trees, crested ridges, clambered down gullies, barged through waist-high scrub and drifts of dead leaves. Sometimes, Tobe was far in the distance, one shadow amongst many. Once or twice, he stopped and looked at the sky, trying to guess how much daylight was left. A few times, he disappeared altogether, only to reappear a minute later.

  I trudged on, one foot in front of the other. I caught my feet and almost fell more times than I could count.

  ‘Bill?’

  I didn’t look up.

  ‘Bill?

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Mate, stop for a minute.’

  I managed to look up. I tried to summon a smile.

  Ahead of me, I could see bright sunlight and the bare-earth plain. If I hadn’t been so dry, I would have cried. I managed to catch up to Tobe. Together, we pushed through the tree line. The plain rolled out a long way before meeting the wall. Together, they stretched to the north and the south. A couple of burnt-out transports were all that broke the emptiness. I had no idea where our gap was, where we had first come in.

  ‘West’s that way,’ Tobe said. He pocketed his compass and started walking.

  I once again trailed in Tobe’s wake, a painful crawl across an uncaring land. I followed the tree line, my feet dragging ruts through the dirt and dust. My head lolled, my arms hung useless, my legs kept threatening to buckle. I licked my cracked lips. I felt like a badly made facsimile of a man.

  I looked up, for no other reason than because I hadn’t done so in a while.

  Tobe had disappeared again—there was nothing but emptiness ahead. Something inside me snapped. I started running, not knowing how. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I managed to keep running, the withered bush passing in a blur, grey-grey-grey.

  ‘Tobe!’

  Somehow my voice was strong, loud.

  ‘Tobe!’

  No reply. I ran on, lost my rhythm, almost fell to the ground. I stopped running, wobbled from side to side. I caught my breath and ran on, started to notice a slow change in the bush. It was thinning out, the grey blur gradually lightening. I kept following it—the tree line soon stopped, and so did I.

  ‘Shit.’

  A clearing had opened up, maybe half the size of a football oval. All that broke its featureless sprawl was the occasional patch of bleached-yellow grass, a couple of stubby bushes and tree stumps, and a small ridge of rock. I looked at the clearing, my eyes drawn to a few fuzzy shapes on the far side, black things that broke up the brown and grey. I strode towards them, saw that they were actually three transports parked side by side, butted deep into the bush. Dead and dying trees hung over them, draping them in leaves.

  Shock struck me dumb as I noticed Tobe’s feet sticking out from under one of the transports.

  I didn’t know what to say; I thought I had lost the ability to be surprised by him. But no. He was thrashing around a little, obviously struggling with something, Red and Blue lying next to him. They barked when they saw me, but they didn’t get up. Tobe let out a triumphant ‘ah-ha’ and began wriggling free. I watched, fascinated—it was the exact opposite of a snake swallowing its prey.

  ‘G’day, Bill.’ Tobe jumped to his feet, wiped his hands on the seat of his pants, waved at the clearing. ‘What do you reckon? Little piece of heaven, if you ask me.’

  I took my time, looked around properly. The transports were old but seemed okay, bar the odd bullet scar. They were hidden well, the bush almost swallowing them up. If you passed the clearing in a hurry, you wouldn’t even know they were there.

  I shrugged at Tobe’s question.

  ‘It’s their version of a redoubt, dickhead.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  He looked at me sternly, like I was the slowest kid in class.

  ‘The Creeps probably busted through the wall somewhere nearby, and these babies would have been tucked away as a fallback. A couple of the bastards would have stayed behind, as well. You know, to hold the fort, so to speak.’

  I stared at another brand new Tobe, once again a little afraid of him. That wasn’t unusual; he wasn’t the most stable bloke. But his ease with the danger, his knowledge of the Creeps’ nature—where did they come from? I didn’t ask, of course; he was my ticket home.

  ‘If things had gone to plan, they would have regrouped here and hauled arse. But, well …’

  He whistled low, casually reducing the horror we had seen to a mere ‘shit happens’. It was obscene how blasé he was. I wanted to hit him, but I had to hold it together.

  I somehow managed to quash my anger. ‘Can you get any of them going?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What do you mean maybe?’

  There’s nothing like a prick to the ego to get someone motivated. He smiled, held his chin a little higher.

  ‘I can probably get one going. Happy?’

  I didn’t answer.

  ‘It might take a while, though.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get a move on.’

  He laughed. It was almost like old times.

  ‘Right you are. Look, there are probably some supplies stashed somewhere. Food, water, ammo, you name it. Those bastards always over-prepare.’

  He slapped the side of one of the transports.

  ‘They should be in one of these beasties. Why don’t you take a look? But don’t touch the one at the far end, leave that to me.’

  He laughed again, turned to the transport he had crawled out from under, took his antique keyring from his pocket, and started trying to jemmy the door. I turned away. Together, the three transports made a squat block, a brick of dull black metal. My beaten body twitched at the idea of squeezing into one of the gaps between them.

  I ignored Tobe’s advice, stopped by the transport at the far end, reached for the door handle.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ Tobe appeared as if from nowhere, holding my wrist, stopping me dead.

  ‘You’re being paranoid, Tobe, that’s all—same as always.’

  ‘Trust me, Bill.’

  I shook him off, took hold of the handle. Something exploded. The earth trembled. The sky cracked open. The world turned blood-red.

  Darkness surrounded me. A roar echoed around me, what I’ve always thought river rapids or a waterfall must sound like. It filled the gloom, almost drowning out a faint drumming that started and stopped. I tried to get my head above the waves, to open my eyes. Pain coursed through me and I screamed. Blows on my chest shook my bones. So many blows, each one heavier, harder. And then nothing. I embraced it, let it carry me away.

  Time passed. It must have.

  Tobe was shouting. His words were just mangled sounds, a fine accompaniment to the thunderous roar. I closed my eyes, let the darkness pour through me.

  The numb cloud I floated in jolted without warning. Heavy an
d huge, it slowly drifted from side to side. A whining shriek started competing with the roar. The drumming intensified. I felt my centre of gravity shift, suffered a brief awareness of my fragile body, felt myself repeatedly rise and fall in quick succession. I felt a sharp sensation of pain. A whisper of light cracked the dark. The sun, hot and bright. I fell back into my body like a clumsy idiot falling off a rock, found myself lying on my back, flat-out like a you-know-what.

  I tried to sit up. Nothing happened. I tried again. Nothing.

  The sunlight disappeared as whatever I lay in swung sideways. It lurched, started to tip, the world shifting on its axis. The whining shriek grew louder. Whatever held me down stretched but didn’t give. Another flare of pain. The darkness reached out, the roar returned; I gave in to them.

  More time passed, I have no idea how much.

  Blinding white light flooded over me. The nothing and the darkness shrivelled up and disappeared. The world pulsed red behind my closed eyes. I didn’t dare open them. I waited. I felt pain like it was what I had been carved from.

  ‘Bill, mate? Are you with me?’

  Tobe. I could understand him. I opened my eyes, tried to smile, tried to speak, couldn’t manage either. As helpless as a babe, I watched Tobe hold a canteen to my mouth. Most of the water dribbled down my chin. Somehow, a little made it through my lips.

  ‘That better?’

  He smiled sadly. I had no idea why. I tried again to sit up. I didn’t make it. I managed to turn my head. To my left, the blackened earth of the Maloort Plain. To my right, a steel wall. I craned my neck. I was strapped to a stretcher. Beyond it, a dozen or more seats were fixed to the same wall. Beyond them were a wire grill and a hatch.

  I drank the transport in. ‘Nice one,’ I mouthed. I did my best to nod at the canteen. I got a little more water down. ‘Where?’

  That took everything I had and I blacked out again. The numb gloom embraced me, took me away. The roar droned on. The drumming came and went. I floated in the darkness, drifted through the nothing, lay immobile on the stretcher. Eventually, awareness returned—some part of me felt motion, knew that we were moving faster.

  Sometimes the roar was loud. Sometimes it was soft. Sometimes the transport jolted and rocked. Sometimes it didn’t.

  Occasionally, almost unwillingly, my eyes flicked open and I saw shadows growing deeper. I craned my neck again. Tobe was bathed in a pool of light on the far side of the wire grill. He turned, looked at me, his face monstrous, hideous, wrong.

  I lowered my head. I closed my eyes.

  The ride slowly became smoother. The roar softened, started purring. The on-off drumming stopped for good. The lull kept on, the eye of the storm soothing us. I was cast adrift on a river of calm and I went with it. Time must have passed.

  And then the purr started to grow louder again, becoming a roar full of fury, breaking me from my daze.

  The ride became rougher.

  I screamed. Once, twice, a third time. The transport rocked, bounced, almost rolled over. The stretcher strained its moorings, pushed them too far, rolled free, and took me with it. I closed my eyes.

  And then there was nothing.

  People were screaming. Tobe’s voice, others I didn’t recognise. They were a garbled mess. One voice cut through the fog, higher and lighter than all the rest. But it was as blurred as the others were.

  I felt rough hands grab me and pull me to my feet. People were on either side of me, holding me up.

  And then nothing.

  The full moon shone down on me. A squat building loomed. Old. Somehow familiar. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I felt myself being dragged along. And then hands were holding mine. Hands soft and strong at the same time.

  And then nothing

  A door slammed. A roar, the same roar, fading into the night.

  And then nothing.

  The hands let go. I was falling, falling, falling.

  Nothing.

  Eleven

  I was instantly awake, as if I had been flicked on at the switch. I tried to call out. I tried to move. Pain pinned me down. I stared at the ceiling, at the cobwebbed rafters of the pub. I rasped my thanks.

  Home, or near enough.

  The air was heavy with smoke, deadening the smell of liquor and sweat. Lanterns flickered, casting shadows every which way. People were talking, arguing, a barrage of voices. I closed my eyes, let the voices wash over me.

  ‘Look, mate, you’d be wasting your bloody time.’

  ‘Don’t dare patronise me!’

  ‘Fuck off, Klaus. All I’m doing is telling it how it is.’

  I put it together: Tobe and Old Man Veidt.

  ‘Don’t think I am stupid because I am old man. I know what you are trying to do.’

  ‘Look …’

  ‘Don’t bother, my mind is made up. And no need asking my wife.’

  ‘She can choose for herself. How about it, Mrs V?’

  Typical.

  ‘Tobias, I am sorry, my husband, he is right,’ Old Woman Veidt said, her voice sad.

  ‘Your husband’s talking shit, Mrs V. He didn’t see what Bill and I saw. None of you did.’

  A torrent of language cut Tobe off.

  ‘My uncle, he asks why this is our problem.’ The First Country captain, his voice the same rich velvet as his elder. Another torrent of language followed. ‘And why you would expect us to come with you.’

  The uncle laughed.

  ‘I’m not expecting anything. I’m just telling you what we saw.’

  ‘Why would they come here?’ A new voice, bored and flat.

  I tried calling out again. Nothing.

  ‘Why would they bother?’ Someone else. The voice was almost the same, only pitched a little lower.

  ‘We’re a tiny town …’

  ‘… in the middle of nowhere.’

  It clicked: Max and Maxine. Twins. Weird.

  ‘They’ll come, no doubt about that. Do you think we’ll be left alone forever? Fuck, you two are as thick as they come.’

  ‘There’s no need …’

  ‘… to get nasty.’

  ‘Settle down, Tobe.’ Another new voice. How many people had he dragged out?

  ‘Piss off, Sheldon, there’s no time to fart around. The Creeps are out there somewhere, somewhere close. If you don’t believe me, go take another butcher’s at the transport.’

  No one challenged him. I somehow moved my broken body, shuffled around on the couch, hoping someone would notice me, would bring me some water.

  But no one did.

  ‘Anyway, I love this place. Why would I leave if I didn’t have to?’

  ‘Well, you aren’t the most reliable bloke.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t play silly buggers, Tobe. You know what I mean.’

  Typical Tobe and Sheldon. They were too alike, they might as well have been piss and vinegar.

  ‘Sheldon, you’re scared, that’s all.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Yeah, it is. You’re too scared to leave town, you’ve been here too long. I get it.’

  ‘Don’t you lecture me about this town! At least I’m here when people need me. Not like you, running away all the time.’

  ‘My comings and goings don’t seem to bother you when I’m fetching things you need. So what’s this really about? Why don’t you enlighten me? That’d be a bit of fun, don’t you reckon? Stick the boot into Tobe for a bit. Bring the wife and kids, fun for the whole family.’

  ‘Look.’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Boys!’ Another new voice, soft steel, take-no-shit tones. Louise.

  I smiled a tiny smile. I tried to call her name. I barely managed a whisper.

  ‘Whatever problems you two have with each other can wait. Even if Tobe’s wrong—and I don’t think he is—we should hear him out.’

  Unconvinced voices, a mumble of maybes.

  ‘We owe him that.’

  ‘I don’t owe him shit.’ A g
ruff voice: the Kumari Kid.

  ‘Fine. Almost all of us owe him that. Happy?’

  ‘I’m all right. I could do with another drink.’

  A sudden slap.

  ‘Boy, don’t be so rude.’ Another new voice.

  Mrs Kumari, I guessed. People laughed. My tiny smile grew a little wider.

  ‘Ow, Mum! Fuck.’

  Another slap. More laughter.

  ‘You watch your mouth, boy. Now, apologise to Louise.’

  ‘Sorry, Lou.’

  ‘You’re welcome … So, where was I?’

  No one answered.

  ‘Yeah, okay, um … Look, the transport didn’t come from nowhere. That alone means we should hear Tobe out. Agreed?’

  A mumbled agreement, and then silence.

  ‘Tobe?’

  ‘Right, shit, sorry … So, that’s pretty much what happened and what we saw and what I reckon.’

  A group exhalation of frustration, followed by a fresh torrent of language.

  ‘If that’s all you have to say, then we are done.’

  Silence met the First Country folk. I heard their chairs scrape the floor, the fall of their feet as they walked out the door, the bang of it slamming behind them.

  And then the questions started.

  ‘You what?’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Don’t tell us that …

  ‘… that’s all you have to say.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘How many dead, do you reckon?’

  Finally, an intelligent question.

  ‘Mate, we didn’t really have time to count. Hundreds, I guess.’

  More followed.

  ‘Did you see any locals?’

  ‘How long ago, do you think?’

  ‘Any survivors?’

  I had a question of my own: why hadn’t anyone checked on me?

  ‘Anything worth scavenging?’

  ‘Who built the wall?’

  ‘What do we do?’

  At that question, everyone fell quiet. I heard drinks being poured, bush tobacco being lit, chairs being shuffled.

  ‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t see why we have to do anything.’

  ‘Shut up, Klaus!’