The Journey

by John Marsden

  He did not know where to start. Things were happening everywhere. There were dark shapes rushing at him, a wave of them. They were big and, although he was ready to believe that they were evil apparitions, his rational mind told him that they were men. He flinched from the expected attack but it did not come. Just as they appeared to be about to fall on him they paused, grabbed at something on the ground and swept it up. For a moment they seemed hesitant, caught as a wave can sometimes be caught at the moment of its breaking. Then, as Argus began to struggle to his feet and Adious beside him began to stir into wakefulness, the men faded back into the darkness. Argus felt some kind of relief, as he registered the possibility that he might not be attacked. He was on his feet now, peering after them. Assuming they had stolen some of their few possessions, he cast around on the ground. It took him another infinitely slow moment to realise what they had taken.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Adious asked, rubbing her eyes.

  ‘They’ve taken Jessie,’ Argus shouted, about to lunge out after them but realising in frustration that he would have to put shoes on first. That took another maddening moment. Adious was making sounds of horror. Then she was stumbling past him, pulling on her boots as she ran.

  ‘Take the path,’ Argus gasped. ‘I think they went through the trees, so we might gain on them.’ He plunged forwards, behind Adious, who was the only other person he could see or hear. He was too desperate to feel anything. He caught up with Adious and they ran silently on together, for three or four minutes. Then they paused to listen. There was nothing. Then, perhaps, for a moment, there was something. A thump, quite a way to the right, and in front of them. They ran towards it and found a narrow animal track. Following it they came to an old fence and swung themselves heavily over it. Argus landed on all fours with a crumpling noise that sounded like the one they had heard just a few moments before. He was up and running again, travelling more easily now that the initial shock was over. In the distance, through the dark trees, he imagined he saw the glimmer of a lantern, but it was gone again quickly and he was not sure. As he ran on he began thinking of the terror that Jessie must be experiencing, and that forced him to find more speed and stamina. In front of him, grim and silent, ran the mother. Argus wondered as he went what he would do if and when he caught up with the attackers.

  Sick fear churned in his stomach, as if he had eaten a mixture of porridge and rotting fruit. He could hear Adious’ breath start to come hard, louder, and with a pumping sound. He put his head down and ploughed on. His head began to roll from side to side and his arms were chopping down harder. A bird suddenly started up out of the dense dark grass beside the track, with a clatter of wings and a hollow series of short cries.

  Unexpectedly they came to a road which was wide and well-made. They paused irresolute for a moment and then, without discussion, turned to the right and ran steadily along it. The change in surface and surroundings gave them a new burst of energy, which sustained them for perhaps twenty minutes.

  The time came, however, when mental willpower was simply not enough. The body began to give out, in ways that could not be governed by the mind. The muscles at the backs of their legs contracted, and their steps became shorter and shorter. Cramps tore at their tortured limbs. Sweat poured down Argus’ face, and the constant flow of salt into his mouth made him feel sick. It ran into his eyes too, stinging them. He at last slowed to a walk, hating himself for his weakness, but Adious seemed glad of the excuse to stop running; they walked along quickly for a few minutes, hands on hips, gasping at the grudging air. Finally Adious stopped completely.

  ‘This is useless,’ she said. ‘We don’t even know if we’re going the right way.’

  ‘What do we do then?’ Argus asked miserably. There was no answer and he started trying to think objectively, to analyse the situation and work out the best strategy. Panic kept threatening to gum up his mind and he had to fight hard to muster some self-control.

  ‘It’ll be light in a few hours,’ he said at last, as calmly as possible. ‘We’d be better to rest and wait till then. We’ll be able to see, and we’ll still have some energy left. Besides, they’ll have to rest too, unless they’ve got horses, and if they’ve got horses they’ll already be over the hills and far away.’

  They sagged onto the ground under a large tree and waited. It took some hours and they both dozed a little, although they would scarcely have thought it possible they could sleep. When it was light enough to distinguish the shapes of the trees from the grey sky, they rose without need of words, and began to move stiffly on their way. They walked a little, jogged a little, walked a little. Daylight continued to colour in the day. They followed the same road, for there seemed nothing else to do.

  After about an hour they saw a man walking in the same direction as themselves. Carrying a spade and a bucket, he was clearly on his way to work. They ran up behind him, but he did not turn around until they were level with him, and even then he showed little interest, merely glancing at them.

  ‘Have you seen anyone with a little child?’ Argus begged. ‘A baby girl, dark hair, dark eyes?’ The man just kept walking, saying nothing, so that both Argus and Adious thought that he had not heard the question and might perhaps be deaf. But as they were about to speak again the man looked at them more searchingly. There was something surly about his expression and Argus inwardly quailed. But as the man took in their grimy, streaked faces and their desperate appearance, his face softened a little. He looked away and walked on but finally, after a fashion, answered their question.

  ‘You’re on the right road,’ he said gruffly.

  Argus was about to ask more questions but Adious, perhaps sensing that they would get no more information here, was already running away. The boy quickly followed.

  The morning took some time to settle into the pattern of weather that it would maintain for the rest of the day: cloudy and humid, white cloud becoming grey. Argus sweated, and struggled to keep going. As the morning wore on they both abandoned any attempt to run. Not knowing where they were going or what they were looking for they nevertheless could see no alternative to following the road.

  Late in the morning they passed two girls sitting on a gate but the girls looked contemptuously at them and ignored their questions. The only relief came when they found a long fence overgrown with a vine that seemed to be some kind of wild tomato; it was heavily laden with fruit and the two ate ravenously. The vivid red tomatoes were the only things in the landscape that were growing strongly. Everything else was straggly and sour.

  As they left the spot Adious found a handkerchief on the ground that she recognised at once as one that she had made for Jessie.

  The discovery came at a crucial time. Somehow they had both ceased to understand the reality of what they were doing, of what was happening. The panic had never left them but it was becoming harder to remember that a successful end to the search would mean a reunion with Jessie. The frantic activity of the chase was obscuring its purpose. With a tangible clue in their hands they were infused with new energy and the search became focused again.

  Quite late in the afternoon they came to a junction: not a true junction, because the road they were on was large and well-defined, whereas the track that joined it from the north-west was little-used. They had passed other such junctions before and ignored them, but this time for some reason they felt drawn to the narrow path, and stopped.

  ‘This way?’ Argus asked, raising his eyebrows. Adious nodded, and they took the path without any attempt to discuss their reasons. They jogged at a steady pace but with increasing nervousness as their field of vision decreased.

  The track wound upwards for a long time. An occasional sob of weariness escaped Argus’ throat now, despite his best efforts to control himself. He was sweaty, staggering, scorched with heat and hunger. Ahead of him, grimly determined, was Adious, growing more morose with every passing hour. Argus spared a thought for whoever had taken Jessie, wondering how they would cope with the
vengeful mother. He felt fortified by the knowledge that she was with him.

  Towards dusk they came to a hillock. Suddenly Adious stopped; so suddenly in fact that Argus ran into her back. It took only a moment for him to realise what had caught her attention: a thin trail of white smoke straggled up into the air, a steady wisp. They both stood and watched it for a moment, then moved on, keeping lower to the ground, and separating from each other a little. They nestled up to a ridge of granite-like rock that crocodiled along the top of the knoll.

  The smoke came from a small fire that had just been lit. A lean dark boy, perhaps seventeen years old, was crouched over the fire, feeding it with pine-cones. Three or four men were sitting under trees around the clearing. A piece of canvas was slung between some trees, and under it sat two shabbily dressed women, scrawny and impassive. Beside them, apparently asleep, lay Jessie.

  Argus was startled to feel Adious’ hand grip his arm and to hear a low growl of rage rumble from her throat. Argus had sensed as the day had progressed that he and Adious were drawing apart: intent upon the desperate search for her daughter she had seemed almost to forget his existence. And this had reminded him, for the first time in months, that he was not Jessie’s real father. Theirs were not bonds of blood, even though his links with this small family seemed to him to be unbreakable. Thus it was that Adious’ grip on his arm was a welcome one. Amongst other things, it was saying to him, ‘Hold me back. Restrain me. Don’t let me do anything hot-headed.’ She was telling him she was aware of Argus’ presence and that he was necessary to her.

  They lay together for some time watching while darkness submerged the world. The people they were watching, perhaps thinking they had placed themselves beyond the risk of pursuit, seemed to have no plans to move on for the evening. Jessie awoke and cried. Her voice was a thin wail slipping through the air like smoke from the fire. One of the women breast-fed her, and Argus was awed at the black rage that filled Adious’ face at the sight. But once the feeding was over, the adults showed no further interest in the baby. Jessie lay still on the cloth that had been placed under her, though her eyes stayed open.

  As they watched, Argus tried to formulate an ingenious plan to rescue the child. All he could think of, however, was the obvious: to slip in quietly when it was dark and carry Jessie away without causing any disturbance. But he felt that this plan was too vague, contained too many chances of going wrong. Whatever they did had to be foolproof, surely — the risks to Jessie were too great. At the back of his mind was the fear — or was it knowledge? — that there might be no foolproof plan. There were times when the safety, even the life itself, of every child hung in the balance. There were no guarantees, never had been, that every child would reach adult life easily or comfortably. The short life of Argus’ own sister was evidence of that.

  There was little light left in the sky. Argus and Adious, the two watchers, slid back a short distance to discuss their approach. Could one of them create a diversion while the other crept up? Could they use force, with so many adults against them? Was some kind of bluff possible? They tried to assess each idea calmly, even as the suggestions grew wilder. Set fire to the canvas, to create a barrier between Jessie and the people? Throw sand in their eyes? Find a good long creeper and come swinging down out of the trees?

  By now it was dark. The small fire shed just a little light, enough for them to see that the people were sitting around the fire, apparently unconcerned about the baby. They could only assume that she was still under the canvas. They began to realise that there might be no brilliant solutions, that surprise and their own determination would be their only assets. They considered waiting until everyone had gone to sleep, but rejected the idea, in case they went to sleep under the canvas beside Jessie. But Argus did recollect one thing that might help them: the ground on which the people were camped was all earth and grass. There was no sign of any rocks. Yet the ridge that they were hiding behind was riddled with stones. He gathered ten or so, each about the size of his fist, and made a sling out of his shirt to carry them.

  And so the plan had to be this: they would creep up from the undefended side and get as close as they could. When they were heard, as they undoubtedly would be, they would rush and hope. They agreed to make no human sounds, so that the assault might have as much mystery as possible. Adious would grab Jessie and Argus would hurl the rocks. If separated they would meet again at the intersection of the little track with the road.

  It took them some twenty minutes to work their way around to a point that would bring them in at about the right place. Choked with fear and excitement, they began to worm forward. To Argus, every clatter and rustle that Adious made sounded momentously loud. He did not realise that his own sounds were just as loud, yet neither of them was making as much noise as he suspected.

  It suddenly struck him that parents had always seemed to be so calm and unafraid, whatever the situation, and yet here they were, Jessie’s parents, feeling all the emotions that he had associated only with childhood. Argus began to wonder at the apparent strength of parents. How real was it?

  He wriggled on a few more paces, then paused again. Now they could clearly see the light of the fire, and the dark shapes of the bodies sitting around it. One of the shapes stood up and seemed to be coming towards them. Argus gasped and trembled. But the man went to a tree and urinated against it, then returned to the fire. Argus could hear the low voices conversing around the flames.

  The boy thought that they must surely only be twenty paces away from Jessie. He felt paralysed and dry but Adious moved forward again, and that spurred him on. This time, however, they started to encounter many dry sticks, and Argus knew that the noise they were making now was inevitably going to give them away. He dragged the sling of stones around to his front, then nudged Adious, stood up and charged.

  In the darkness there were hazards with every step, dead branches that kicked at ankles and reared up into knees and groins. He was aware of scattering figures at the fire, of white twisted faces turned to him in anger, of Jessie’s sudden cry almost at his feet, and of Adious gathering up her daughter. Adious turned and ran, Argus made to follow, but realised that if he did they would both be swiftly caught.

  He stayed where he was and plunged his hand into the sling to bring out a stone. He had a moment of even greater panic when he got his hand tangled up in the shirt and could not free the stone. Then its cool strength was in his hand and, closing his eyes at the enormity of what he was doing, he flung it with full strength at the head of one of the party coming towards him. Not at the first one, for he was so close that Argus could not find the cold-blooded power to throw it into his face. But the man he hit gave a kind of groaning gasp, raised his hands, and fell over backwards. Argus threw another stone, this time into the mouth of the man who was about to reach him. He turned and ran as he heard a gurgling scream.

  He ran and ran, sobbing and talking to himself, smashing through undergrowth and obstacles. There were times when he thought he heard Adious in front of him, but it could have easily been animals that he had disturbed in his flight. It was quite a while before it dawned on him that there were no sounds from behind him. But he kept going, desperate to be clear of the area before daybreak.

  He did not think about navigating until, after struggling through a particularly thick belt of vegetation, he suddenly found himself on a road. It ran north and south, but the road he wanted ran east and west. Nevertheless he took it, as a relief, and because he knew he was too far to the north anyway. And to his pleasure it soon began to curve to the south-east. He did not realise it was the road he wanted, the road he and Adious had travelled on, until he rounded a corner and saw her standing in front of him waiting warily with Jessie in her arms. He had come unexpectedly to the place they had chosen for their rendezvous.

  Despite their exhaustion — which left them staggering like old people, at times not able to walk in a straight line — Argus and Adious travelled at a furious pace, to get away from
the bleak district which had proved such an ominous area for them. When they finally located their campsite again they found their few possessions pillaged, and anything of value taken, but they wasted no time rueing this new misfortune. They were just grateful to be able to get on their way.

  Jessie was subdued for a day or two, but quickly regained her usual good spirits and curiosity. Yet her sleep was troubled and there was a new timidity in her. She woke up at slight sounds and liked to cuddle close to Argus and Adious when they slept. Argus found he had a blackness inside him now, a black boiling part that curdled and gave off fumes when he saw Jessie’s fear and thought of the shadowy people who had swept her away in the middle of the night.

  It was a week before the small family felt safe enough to be able to rest. By then they were three days clear of the wastelands and in country that was lush with sky-swept grass. By a small lake they lay and slept and ate and allowed themselves to dream a little again. Though they were not yet in country that they recognised, it was nevertheless of a type familiar enough to them to suggest that they were nearing their destinations. Argus began to feel nervous and excited. He wondered if he had learnt all that he was supposed to, all that he could have learnt. In his mind he had the general outlines of most of his seven stories established, but there were many details to work out and the idea of telling them to an audience of respected elders and leaders, back in his own valley, made his legs feel a little weak.

  ‘Do you think I’ve changed much?’ he asked Adious.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she replied, shocked that he could even wonder.

  ‘In what ways?’ Argus persisted. Adious had to think.

  ‘Well,’ she said, chewing thoughtfully on a stick, ‘I don’t know, really. All of the things I think of, when I think about them for a minute, I realise you always had, only now a little more so, if you see what I mean. I was going to say, you’ve become more mature and responsible, but then you were mature and responsible right from the start. Then I was going to say that you’ve become more interesting, with your poetry and stuff, and some of the things you say, but you were interesting right from the start too. Sometimes I think you’re too serious, but just as I start thinking that you go and do something mad like this morning, pretending the clouds were kites, that you had on a string — I like your imagination. And I like your sense of humour. And I like your body.’