A Girl Called Ari

by P. J. Sky

  I could cut it away, she thought. But she didn’t dare do so. Finally, she abandoned her treatment and arranged the palms over both legs. That should protect Starla from the sun at least, and hopefully the bats.

  Ari refilled both canteens at the river and retreated back to camp. At dusk, the bats once more filled the sky; a vast aerial procession pouring from the forest and into the coming night.

  Ari built a fire and roasted the lizard. Starla slept soundly. Ari ate most of the lizard. She had to keep her strength up, she would be no good to Starla otherwise. The rest of the meat she wrapped in leaves.

  She sat in the dust by the fire and watched it spit orange embers up towards the stars. Ari hadn’t slept in two days and her eyes were heavy.

  Come on then, she thought, dingoes and crocodiles and bats and even people, if you’re gonna get me then bring it on. Tonight’s your chance.

  She hauled the biggest log she could onto the fire and then she lay down in the dust and closed her eyes.

  ∆∆∆

  Ari awakened with a start. It was dawn and the light was thin and orange. Starla was breathing shallow and fast.

  Ari went to Starla’s side. Starla’s clammy skin was greyer than before. Her eyes were closed. Ari took Starla’s shoulders and gently shook her.

  “Starla, wake up.”

  Starla didn’t respond. Ari felt Starla’s forehead and drew away quickly. She was burning up.

  Dag it, thought Ari. Starla, you can’t have a fever now. Please, not now.

  She tried to give Starla some water but it just trickled down her cheeks. Ari put down the canteen and buried her face in her hands. When she lowered her hands they were wet with tears. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the inside of her palm.

  Dag it Starla, not this. Not the sickness, not the fever.

  Ari had seen this before. She’d seen it in her mother. First you got the fever, then you died.

  Come on Ari, she told herself, pull yourself together. Starla ain’t your mother.

  But still, she looked into Starla’s face and instead she saw her mothers.

  But I can’t save you Mum. I couldn’t save you then and I can’t save you now. I can’t do anything. I’m useless. We should have been closer to town, she thought. I should have been closer to town. That way we could get medicines. We could get the powders and the potions. But I couldn’t because I was too far from town.

  “Dag it,” she said aloud.

  I was too far from town. And now I’m too far from town again.

  Ari got up and ran from the camp. Several yards away she collapsed on her knees. Her body was shivering. She was so tired, so weary. It was like her limbs were weighted with stones. All her life she’d run from this. She remembered the day her mother died. That fateful morning she was so still and cold. Her eyes were open and they stared blankly at the dark ceiling. She’d tried to close the lids but they wouldn’t close. Her skin was so thin; so cold and yellow and stretched tight over her skull.

  Ari remembered covering her with a thick blanket, the sort that itched to sleep under. She’d left her there, lying under the blanket. Then she’d packed a bag with what she could carry and she’d left the hut forever.

  Ari dug her hands into the ground and lifted up handfuls of the powdery red dust. It trickled through her fingers like blood. And here she was, alone, far out in the swamp. And Starla was dying.

  ∆∆∆

  The black aircraft skimmed across the wasteland, kicking up a storm of red dust. It left the railway and the remains of a lost town. It headed east through a low valley and came to rest next to an ancient, collapsed canopy that was once a filling station. A wizened old man came out from under the canopy, shielding his face from the swirls of dust, and hobbled towards the aircraft. The engines wound down and then were silent. A hatch on the side of the aircraft opened and two guards descended. Max Panache followed them. The two guards approached the old man. Briefly, they spoke with him, then one raised his gun while the other returned to Max.

  “Anything?”

  “He’s just a crazy old man,” said the guard.

  “I can see that. Search the platform.”

  The guard scampered over to the collapsed canopy while Max wandered over to the old man who now knelt on the ground with his hands raised. The old man peered with pale, anxious eyes at the gun. The fear made him look younger somehow. His bright, wide eyes were those of a child’s.

  “Two girls find themselves lost in the wasteland,” began Max.

  The old man’s eyes widened.

  “They come across a lamp. They pick up the lamp and rub it, and out pops a genie. He tells the girls they may each have one wish. The first girl, well, she says she wants to be home, back in the city. The genie says of course, flicks his fingers, and the girl is gone. But what does the other girl say?”

  The old man shook his head.

  “This other girl, she’s from the outside, and she says, ‘Well, it’s awfully lonely out here, I wish I had my friend back.’”

  The old man’s bottom lip began to quiver.

  Max looked either way, then back at the old man. “Have you seen anyone come through here recently?”

  The old man’s fingers started to shiver.

  “A girl from the city, and someone else? An outsider. Perhaps someone from Cooper?”

  The old man shook his head. “Is jus’ me an’ ‘im ‘ere.”

  “Who else, who’s here?”

  “Jus’ me, ‘im look afer’ me see.”

  The other guard was returning.

  “Well?” asked Max.

  “Empty, no one else here.”

  There was a trail leading from the platform but the footprints were starting to fade into the red dust. All around the platform were the bare footprints of the old man. They formed maddening spirals in the dust.

  Max returned his gaze to the old man. “Now, I’m going to ask again. And nicely, because I’m a nice guy. At least two people came through this valley. I think you saw them. So tell me, what did you see?”

  The old man shook his head. “Jus’ ‘im an’ me ‘ere”

  Max leant closer. “Who, old man, are you talking about?”

  “Jus’ me.”

  Max stood upright and began to pace in circles around the old man.

  “Am I not asking politely? Am I not being good to you? Is there anything at all unreasonable in my request?”

  The old man just shook his head.

  Max stopped pacing and leaned closer to the old man again.

  “Am I speaking English to you?”

  The old man shook his head, his face long, mouth drawn open revealing a single grey tooth.

  Max kicked the old man in the gut and the old man keeled over. His skeletal frame came to rest on its side in a foetal position, knees bent inwards.

  “Look old man. Just tell me what I need to know.”

  The old man whimpered quietly, holding his gut.

  Max began pacing around the old man again. “Come on old man, I don’t have all day. I’ve things to do.”

  The old man rasped for air. “I’s ol’ see, they’s hel’ me.”

  Max stopped pacing and bent over the old man.

  “You know, I’m not sure I understand a word you’re saying.”

  “Hel’ ol’ man.”

  “What?” Max cupped his hand to his ear. “Speak up old man.”

  “Maka kee’s me’.”

  Max stood upright and kicked the old man hard. His foot met the base of the old man’s back. There was so little of him, Max wandered that his foot hadn't gone right through the old man’s spine. He raised his foot and kicked again, his foot striking a boney shoulder. Pacing around, he kicked the old man again, this time in the belly. The old man’s body deflated like air leaving a balloon.

  When Max stopped, the old man’s body lay still.

  Max caught his breath, his heart racing. His fingers shook with sudden violent excitement. He looked between the old man and
the collapsed canopy. Then he turned to the guards.

  “So, who’s for lunch?”

  Chapter 23

  All day, Starla never woke. She just lay under her shelter, her head in the shade, her breathing rapid, erratic and shallow.

  It was at dusk, just after the bats had flown overhead, as Ari sat glumly by the fire, that she first noticed the drone. It rolled along the valley walls for short, intermittent bursts. Ari remembered hearing the sound before. She’d been alone in the wasteland, on her way to Cooper, her mother lying dead under a blanket. The bag she carried was heavy and she’d resorted to dragging it through the dry dust. She’d rested a moment, and then she’d heard the low, warbling sound.

  Googa-goo-ga-ga-googa-goo-ga-ga

  Just as then, the hairs along her spine began to rise.

  She listened now. She couldn’t tell how far it was away, sometimes it sounded close, others it was far off.

  Googla-goo-ga-ga-goolga-goo-ga-ga

  Perhaps the wind was catching it, but there was no wind in the valley. Ari felt the outline of her blade in its sheath by her ankle.

  Ari added more wood to the fire then checked on Starla and tried to give her more water. She seemed to swallow a little but she didn’t wake. The rest trickled down her cheeks. Starla looked thinner than she'd done yesterday. The fever was working fast, wearing her away. Her bones were drawing through her skin, like formerly buried alien shapes emerging from the dust.

  That night, Ari slept further from the fire. It was cooler, however, she reasoned, if someone were to investigate the fire then here she would have the opportunity to startle them. She slept with her hand wresting on her ankle, and she dreamt of her mother. In her dream, she awakened to find her mother dead, her mouth gapped open, her eyes gazing upwards. Her grey skin was drawn in over her skull, the cheekbones and eye sockets hollowed out. As Ari had stood over her, her mother had grabbed her wrist with skeletal fingers and Ari woke startled, clutching her blade.

  Dawn approached, and the last cold embers glowed in the dead fire. Ari shivered. She could still feel her mother’s cold fingers on her wrist. From a distance, the drone warbled. The pitch fluctuated, and then it was almost speaking to her.

  Darlia-dead-dead-Darlia-dead-dead.

  It fell silent.

  Stiffly, Ari crawled across to Starla. She still lay unconscious. Her breathing was erratic. Ari wiped Starla’s face and moistened her lips with a little water, then Starla’s eyes flicked open.

  Ari’s heart leapt. Starla’s eyes were dark, like black holes in hollow eye sockets. The deep blue was almost drained from them, and the pupils were heavily dilated. Starla moved her lips.

  “What is it?” Ari asked.

  Starla’s lips moved again, but no sound came from them.

  Ari leaned closer. “You need somethin’?”

  She just heard Starla’s faint whisper. “Leave me.”

  Ari sat up. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

  Starla stared back. Then she closed her eyes.

  Ari shook her. “Stay with me.”

  But Starla was unconscious again.

  Ari sat back and wiped her face. Her fingers were damp. She felt utterly helpless. She could do no more. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She was back at her mother’s bedside, waiting for the inevitable. She remembered the last time her mother had looked at her. Her eyes were so pale and lifeless, the pupils only pinpricks in a drained grey iris. And then she remembered the one good eye of the milky-eyed man, bloodshot, as she drove her blade between his ribs. She remembered the life leaving him. She remembered the darkness folding over him. She shuddered.

  A life for a life, that’s what it was. Sometimes one life comes at the cost of another. I had no other choice.

  She looked down at Starla. A life for a life. But Starla’s ain’t mine to give.

  Ari spent the day foraging for supplies but kept returning to the camp to check on Starla. There was no change in her condition and she didn’t wake again. Ari started to consider what to do when Starla died. Did she turn around and go back to Cooper and the salt plains or go on to the city? They were now well over halfway. But what good was going to the city if you couldn’t get inside? You were never farther from the city than when you were standing right beside it, staring up at those opaque walls. You were no further inside than if you were a hundred miles away in the desert.

  Again and again, Ari returned to Starla’s bedside. Sitting in the dust, Ari closed her eyes and placed her palms on her eye lids.

  Please Maker, she prayed, let this be quick and soon. I ain’t never asked for much. I take care of my own, I don’t need no one’s help. But I’m not asking this for me, I’m asking it for Starla. Ain’t no sense dragging this out. If she’s gonna die let it be now and be done with it. Let her return to the earth and be reborn.

  Ari removed the blade from its sheath at her ankle. She imagined sliding it across Starla’s neck. She could make it quick, Starla wouldn’t feel a thing. Just like finishing a lame dog or a horse. No sense prolonging the inevitable.

  If you’re gonna do it, she told herself, do it now and let it be done. Out here you’ve gotta be strong. Maker give me strength now. Let me help Starla one last time.

  She remembered driving the blade between the ribs of the milky-eyed man and she shuddered. And she couldn’t do it, not to Starla. Her hand shivered, then she let go of the blade. She was weak and had failed this final test.

  I shoulda drowned in the river.

  She felt wretched. She collapsed her face into her hands. When she finally looked up again, two tall figures, their skin so tanned it was almost black, were standing a short distance from the camp.

  ∆∆∆

  Ari recovered the blade and got to her feet. The two men stood stationary, looking at her. Ari knew who they must be. They were the Angu; the tribesmen of the bush.

  This was trouble. Tribesmen could only ever be trouble. They carried a bad reputation in Cooper. There were stories of people who’d wandered into the bush and never come back. Stories of cannibalism and human sacrifice. There were a few Angu people in Cooper, working the salt plains, but they kept to themselves.

  Thick, black beards covered most of their faces, and both wore the ragged, well-worn clothes of the outsider. One carried a long spear which he held upright. The other wore a wide brimmed bush hat, a satchel over one shoulder, but otherwise he seemed unarmed. From a cord around his neck hung a round, grey pendant, curved inwards like a small dish.

  The man with the satchel stepped forward.

  Ari raised the blade. “Don’ come any closer.”

  “She’s hurt,” said the man.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “She need medicine.”

  Ari glanced at Starla then back at the man. “What’s it to ya?”

  The man raised his hands. He had kind, sad eyes, that held no anger. “She’ll die.”

  “She’s dead already I reckon. So ya just keep ya hands off ‘er right.”

  “We can help.”

  The man took another step forward and Ari lunged with her blade. The other man leapt forward and levelled his spear. He grimaced and Ari almost dropped her blade. Her hands were shaking.

  “Please,” said the man with the satchel. “Medicine.”

  Ari’s voice shook. “We don’ need ya kinda help.”

  “Please,” he said again. “We mean ya no harm.”

  Carefully, he reached inside his satchel and pulled out a wad of crushed green leaves and little purple flowers. He looked at Ari and gave her a broad, toothy grin. His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows. He dropped down onto his knees next to Starla.

  Ari kept her blade trained on the man with the satchel; the other man kept his spear trained on Ari. The man with the satchel had seemed to decide to ignore the standoff. He pressed his fingers against Starla’s neck and sighed, shaking his head slightly. Then he inspected her leg and sighed again.

  “What do ya want?” asked Ari.
/>   “Jus’ to help ya,” said the man kneeling next to Starla.

  He reached into his satchel and pulled out a bladder full of liquid. Ari watched him intently as he soaked Starla’s leg thoroughly. Carefully, he began to peel away the material Ari had used as a bandage. Underneath, the wound oozed with a yellow puss. He lifted the leg a little and soaked the wound again, washing away some of the puss. Then he took the green leaves and purple petals and pressed them into the wound. He took from his satchel some bigger green leaves and he wrapped these around the leg. Once he was finished, he stood and met Ari’s eyes again.

  “We’ll be back later,” he said. “Don’ go doin’ nothing crazy while we’re gone. Ya friend needs rest.”

  The other man nodded at Ari, lowered his spear, and backed away. Ari watched the men turn and disappear back into the bush. Briefly, she kept her blade trained on their path, her hand still shaking, then she relaxed her muscles and lowered the blade.

  Ari knelt back down next to Starla. Her colour looked no better, but her dressing was changed and this was something.

  Ari looked back in the direction the men had come. Why were they helping Starla? If they even were helping Starla. She thought of the man’s kind, sad eyes. There had been no menace in those eyes, only a slight sense of pity. And the tone of his voice was soft. And the other man could have taken her with the spear if he’d wanted to. Ari couldn’t pretend in that moment she’d have been able to stop him. But he hadn’t, instead he’d nodded and backed off. Now Ari didn’t know what to think, and instead a weariness came over her. She lay down in the dust next to Starla and closed her eyes.

  ∆∆∆

  At dusk both men returned, this time they carried two long poles wrapped in canvas. Ari stood and drew her blade.

  “Please,” said the man with the satchel as he approached ahead. “Come with us.”

  Ari looked down at Starla, then back at the men. Could she stop them if she wanted to?

  “Ya ‘ere to help?”

  The man with the satchel nodded.

  “Why?”

  He held his arm out towards Starla. “She needs more medicine, please.”