by Fleur Beale
Dave read the list out. The first item was good news. An Australian Army field hospital would arrive tomorrow.
The next was a mixture of good and bad. Lyttelton was completely wrecked. The good part was that the HMNZS Canterbury had been docked in the harbour when the world went wild and the navy were feeding the people.
Another feel-good item came next. Peter Jackson and the crew making The Hobbit were offering to give practical help where they could. The actors and everyone else involved with the movie were shocked and saddened. They sent their thoughts and prayers.
A good but sad item: Auckland was expecting evacuees today off thirty-six flights. I hated that so many people had to leave my city, but at the same time I hoped Shona, Greer and their mum were among them.
‘Thanks,’ I said to Dave and Myra. ‘That was really kind of you.’
Matt didn’t argue when I left him in charge of the table while I helped them take water back to their house. Just as I was leaving them, Dave slapped his head. ‘Where are my brains? We found our old plug-in phone. What’s your number?’
We swapped numbers. Being able to call them whenever – that felt good.
I walked home slowly, slower as I approached my house. I didn’t want bad news. I couldn’t cope with bad news. I wouldn’t ask Matt what he’d heard while I was away. So what did I do the moment I sat down with him at the table? I asked the dumb question, is what I did. ‘Okay, what’s the not-so-good news?’
‘You sure?’ he asked.
‘No. But it’s worse not knowing.’
So he told me, quick, brief and sharp. Body bags were being carried from the CTV site. It wasn’t known yet how many people had been crushed under stone when the cathedral shattered. Three men had died in another church when it collapsed on them.
I turned the radio off and Matt didn’t protest. You could only take so much horrible news. I dreaded what tomorrow morning would bring. It would be two and a half days since the big quake. Surely nobody could still be alive in any of those broken buildings.
That night once the kids were soundly asleep Matt turned on the television just in time for us to see the Education Minister read out a list of badly damaged schools – and Avonside Girls’ High and Shirley Boys’ High were among them. My school and Matt’s. Crap. Absolute and utter crappy crap.
Life wasn’t looking like getting back to anything near normal anytime soon.
Friday snuck in while I was asleep. Not sure if it was an aftershock that woke me, the sound of heavy rain or the smell of eggs and toast.
Blake was scoffing down three eggs and a pile of toast. Not the best sight to wake up to, plus he was decked out in his fluoro gear ready to ride off into the sunrise and wield his trusty shovel. I pulled my sleeping bag up over my head. I wanted to be him; well, not actually him, but he’d have company and he’d be helping whereas I only had Matt and there wasn’t much either of us could do to help fix the mess our city was in.
A small hand tugged the sleeping bag off my face. Henry. ‘Lyla, what’ll we do today?’
Oh yeah. I forgot. Child-minding duties.
But Natalie rescued me. ‘I’m not working today, boys. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what’s happening this afternoon?’
Both of them leapt in the air clapping their hands. ‘Dad’s coming home!’ Then Leo’s face crumpled. ‘But our house is all broken and sad.’
Natalie bent down to gather them both in her arms. ‘That’s why we’re going to start cleaning it up. You ready, my soldiers?’
The three of them hurried next door through the rain. Mum said, ‘I sure hope Don’s plane isn’t held up. Those kids will be in bits if he doesn’t make it home today.’
‘You still haven’t told her about the car?’ Dad asked.
Mum shook her head. ‘She’s got enough to worry about. I’ll tell her when she asks, not before.’
I shot a look in Matt’s direction and neither of us asked for details. Why bother? We knew that car would be flattened under building rubble.
‘What about our car?’ I asked.
Mum shrugged. ‘Same story. We’re lucky we weren’t in it.’
They gave me longer goodbye hugs than usual. ‘You going okay, chickie?’ Mum asked, giving me her searching Mother-Gaze. ‘I know it’s tough on you not being able to get in among it.’
I was in the middle of a brave smile when Dad said, ‘Good work yesterday, you two. But don’t go off being heroic, especially not in this weather.’ He turned to Matt. ‘Same goes for you.’
Matt stood tall on his undamaged leg. ‘Don’t worry, Geoff. I’ll keep her in lockdown the whole day.’
I waited till an army jeep had taken the parents off to work before I responded to Mr Matthew Nagel. ‘You’re going to catch me when I run away to be heroic, are you? Well, good luck with that.’
He hit me with a squelcher of a look. ‘They’re tired and stressed. They’ll both be dealing with dark stuff all day. D’you really want them worrying you’ll do something stupid?’
I flopped into a chair. It’s easier to bury your head in your hands when you’re sitting down. ‘Okay! I get it. You’re right and I was dumb. Happy now?’ Then I waggled a hand at him. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell.’ My mind shied away from the dark stuff Mum was dealing with. She was working out at Burnham today. The military camp was at Burnham. That was where the emergency morgue had been set up.
I stood up. ‘I guess we could rig up something to collect rainwater. Seems a shame to let it all go down the drain.’
‘It won’t be doing that,’ said Mr Get-everything-exactly-correct. I knew the damn drains were broken to hell; I didn’t need him to come over all picky.
Silence – eventually broken by Matt saying, ‘Water-collecting’s not a stupid idea at all, though. Buckets? Bowls? Plastic sheeting?’
Maybe that was an apology. But with Matt, who knew? I decided to believe it was. ‘Yes to all of the above. Get the rain gear organised and I’ll get the rest.’
‘Aye aye, captain. At the double.’
If only.
The bowls were no problem to find, but the buckets and plastic sheets were all in the laundry and I’d stayed well away since Death by Dryer had missed me by minutes.
It’s okay.
There’s nothing left up high to fall in the next aftershock.
You can do this.
One, two, three.
Four, five, six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine, ten. Go now!
I made a grab for the two buckets but the plastic could stay in the cupboard. The landline rang as I was backing out. ‘Matt, can you get that?’ It would be his mother – he could deal with her.
‘For you,’ he yelled. ‘It’s your mate.’
Katie? I snatched the phone. ‘Katie? Has…’
‘It’s me. Shona.’
My legs gave way. ‘Oh my god! Shona! Are you okay? We’ve been worried sick.’
She gave a gulp. ‘I’m all right. We’re in Dunedin. They flew Greer down here. She’s hurt…’
I gripped the phone till my fingers ached, as if somehow that would help my friend. ‘What happened? How bad is it?’
Matt sat across the table, staring at his locked hands. I was glad he was there. I was so glad I wasn’t by myself. It took Shona a moment to get calm enough to speak. ‘She’ll be okay. At least, they say she will be, but they say she needs to stay calm. She got a head injury.’
We waited again for her to get control of her voice. I pressed the speaker button so Matt could hear. ‘Shona?’
‘Sorry. We’re just so worried. It’s her thesis. It’s on her laptop. She keeps asking for it and fretting. She should be getting better by now but she’s not because she keeps tossing and turning and worrying and not sleeping like she needs to.’
I didn’t understand. ‘But the backups. She’s got two of them, remember? Blake made her back it all up.’
A hiccupping sob came over the line. ‘They’r
e gone. She had one of the USBs on a lanyard round her neck, but it got crushed. The hard drive’s at home somewhere under all the liquefaction. She’s lost all her most recent work!’
‘Her laptop’s okay, though? I’ll go round to yours now,’ I said. ‘I’ll text you when I’ve got it.’
‘But it’s not there, it’s at her work. She had it with her and the building’s a mess. Nobody’s allowed in. It’s red-stickered. There’s a cordon and the army and everything. Could your mum help?’ There was so much desperate hope in her voice that I winced. But what if the laptop had been crushed too?
‘I’ll ask her. What’s the address?’ Greer’s cleaning jobs took her all over the city. She could have been anywhere.
‘It’s that tower block. The one by the park.’
Which park? Which tower block? ‘Have you got an address?’
‘Oh. Yes. Sorry. It’s the corner of Park Terrace and…oh god, I can’t remember. Fifth floor. She said it’s the fifth floor.’
‘I’ll find it. Don’t worry. I’ll text you when I get it.’ I crossed my fingers. Mum would make it happen.
‘No phone. I’ve lost it. I’ll ring you again tomorrow if that’s okay?’
‘Sure. But where are you staying? Have you got rellos in Dunedin?’ I wished they’d kept Greer in Christchurch Hospital. Shona and her mum could have stayed here.
‘We’re with an old couple. Stan and Elsa. They just turned up at the hospital to see if anyone needed a place to stay. They’ve been driving us here every day and giving us food. People are so kind, but I just want Greer to…’ Shona choked up again.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll get it sorted. Tell her enough of the stressing. Love you.’
‘Love you too…Dorset Street! It’s on the corner. Your mum will know it.’
I hung up, my thoughts whirling because that was better than facing the truth head on.
Matt didn’t waste time hiding from the truth. ‘Clemmie won’t be able to get in there. Army. Cordon.’
‘She could ask the authorities. Get permission.’ I didn’t sound convinced, even to myself.
Matt’s face was scornful. ‘Yeah? I can just see the military dropping everything to come to the rescue of one laptop.’
‘I know, Matt. I know that.’ And I did know it. I just didn’t want to face it.
Dad’s words rang in my head. Don’t go off being heroic. But Shona had sounded so desperate and I hated the thought of Greer so stressed. I wanted to help. But I knew I shouldn’t be stupid enough to break into a cordoned-off, quake-damaged, red-stickered high-rise. I might die in the attempt. Mum and Dad would kill me if I did survive.
But I had to at least try.
I did the deep breathing and stood up, ready to head in the direction of rain gear. Matt gave a grin that went crooked in the middle. ‘Looks like I’ll be chasing you all the way to the corner of Park and Dorset.’
I collapsed back onto my chair in a rush of relief. ‘I could walk slowly.’
‘Let’s go.’
The rain was sluicing down when we left. ‘We didn’t put the buckets out,’ I said.
‘Not going back,’ said my trusty companion. Fair enough. I wasn’t either.
‘How’s the ankle?’
‘Getting better.’
‘You’d say that even if it was falling off the end of your leg.’ But I’d be staunch too if Mum flew into a fit at every scratch like Mrs Nagel did. ‘It’s going to take ages to get to that place.’
‘We’ve got all day.’
Oh well, if he wasn’t worried about walking so far I wasn’t going to try to stop him.
On any day before the twenty-second of February we’d have cut across the city. We’d have biked on our wide, straight roads with their smooth surfaces. Okay, maybe the smooth surfaces would have to be further back, before the September quake. Today we made our way through sludge and broken streets. No, make that shattered streets full of splits, holes and orange road cones.
I’d have been willing to bet Matt’s ankle and probably his shoulder would be hurting. His face was strained and he looked a bit pale. It just about killed me not to say anything, but I kept my mouth shut.
Half a block later we were detouring round a deep hole in the footpath when a car came up beside us. The driver leant on the horn and I died. I swear, my heart stopped, and I wanted to kill the idiot with his hand on the button.
Maybe Matt did too. He bashed the stick against the roof, but then the words he was yelling penetrated my skull. ‘Hey, Clancy! Give us a lift, you crazy idiot.’
And miraculous miracle – the car stopped and we fell in, wetness, mud and all.
Matt punched the guy behind the wheel on the arm. ‘You’re still alive then? Family okay?’
They swapped news for a couple of blocks, then Matt said, ‘Your dad know you’ve got the car?’
Clancy gave him an evil grin, so I figured not. Then I worked out that if Clancy was in Matt’s class he was probably only fifteen. I started laughing. It took guts to drive through a city covered in cops when you weren’t even old enough to get a licence. I hoped Matt wasn’t going to tell him we were on a law-breaking mission too. That guy would be in like a rat up a drainpipe, and he looked a touch too feral to me.
But yay for feral. Clancy had saved us hours of struggling along horrible streets we no longer recognised. I hoped he knew where we were. All the usual landmarks were in bits. Even the cathedral spire wasn’t there to guide us. I wouldn’t cry, not here in a car full of boys. (Two boys equals a carful, by the way.)
Soldiers and police guarded the roads into the central city. They were there to stop people like us doing exactly what we were hoping to do. We couldn’t drive down Bealey Avenue. Clancy wasn’t bothered – he swung that car round corners, swerved away from holes, revved it over lumps and cracks.
After an age he pulled up with a jerk which was probably meant to be a flourish. ‘There you go, Matt, my old bud. Bealey Ave straight ahead. Hagley Park to your right.’
We made our way down a street which a few days ago had had a name. But when we got within sight of the intersection with Bealey Avenue we stopped. The police had a checkpoint set up.
My heart sank into the sludge at our feet. ‘We’ll have to wait till dark.’ I longed for a café, McDonald’s or anywhere, so long as it was warm and dry.
Matt turned around and started walking back the way we’d come. Well, to hell with him. He could go home, but I was here now and if I had to wait in the rain till night fell then I bloody well would.
He turned to yell at me. ‘Are you coming?’
‘Okay. Keep your knickers on.’ I’d go left at the next intersection and he could limp off back home.
We got to the intersection and he turned left with me, so of course I got all teary-eyed from the relief of having company while I broke every earthquake rule in the book. I thought about saying something. Nah. No nagging and no thanking.
I fully thought there’d be police or army swarming all over the section of Bealey Avenue we needed to walk along. But miracles do happen. There wasn’t one single uniform of any sort waiting to block us. We knew they were just down the street at the next crossroads, though, so it was still a bit hard on the nerves.
Matt didn’t seem to know what nerves were. He grinned at me. ‘This, my friend, is going to be a piece of the old proverbial.’
Yeah, if our luck held. It was eerie. No people. The thump of Matt’s stick sounded scarily loud. ‘This is the place.’ He pointed his stick at a very wrecked-looking tower block. We had to go up there?
Yes, we did. It was Dorset Towers. The high concrete fence in front of the building with the name on it looked like it had never heard of earthquakes. I didn’t trust it. One gentle push might send the entire thing crashing down. The tower block of flats behind it looked majorly unsafe – shattered windows, bits fallen off walls, a chunk of the top storey dangling ready to crash to the ground.
We edged around the wall out of sight
of the road. I was glad to be sheltered from the eyes of passing officials – not that there seemed to be any.
‘How do we get in?’ Matt asked.
As if I’d know. ‘She didn’t say.’
We found the fire escape, a good solid one, but it had a brick wall beside it. ‘Lots of cracks in that,’ Matt said. He grinned at me. ‘Ready to risk your life?’
I shrugged. ‘Piece of the old proverbial, like you said.’ I wasn’t going to tell him my heart had been transplanted with a jackhammer.
He made it up the fire escape to the first floor before he gave up. The gist of what he said was, ‘Ankle. Shoulder.’ There were quite a few adjectives in there as well.
I swallowed hard a couple of times. ‘I’ll be okay.’ I kept climbing, my eyes turned away from the cracks in the brick wall beside me.
‘Remember to count the floors,’ he yelled. ‘And don’t worry – I’ll keep the rats away.’
I hoped he was joking.
On three of the floors the doors to the flats had been kicked in. There was a big C scrawled on them. C for clear? C for no bodies. Whoever had done the checking must have found Greer. They’d probably thought she was dead.
The door on the fifth-floor flat was open and undamaged. It had the C on it. I stopped on the threshold and gulped. I wasn’t looking at a plain old mess – I was looking at chaos. Ceiling panels were down. I could see where pictures had been on the walls, but there was nothing on them now. Furniture, bookcases, books, the television, CDs – everything was thrown together. The fridge lay facedown in a puddle of water. There was so much water. The hot water cylinder must have spilled its guts along with every single cupboard and drawer in the kitchen and lounge. Splinters of glass glinted wickedly through everything.
I had to find a laptop computer somewhere in all this? I should have asked if it was in a backpack. I should have asked which room it was in.
But I was here now and I wasn’t going back without it. Enough of the procrastinating, Lyla Sherwin. Get on with the job.
One upside of looking for something in quake rubble is that it doesn’t matter if you make it worse. I made it worse.
