Leon’s smile faded. ‘Hang on. I’ll pull over.’ He drove past and drew up on the verge then walked back to her, hands in pockets, brow knitted in a frown.
From the look on his face, Miki knew the devil must have the disease. She felt herself sinking. This made a bad day even worse.
Leon had an air of awkwardness about him as he delivered the news. ‘Dale emailed the other day … The results aren’t good …’
She glanced away, looking to the mountains for strength. But then she remembered what was going on up there—the trucks and the machines—and her heart plummeted.
‘After we dropped you and Geraldine off, we went back to the tip and got a glimpse of the female,’ Leon was saying. ‘We couldn’t see any wounds.’
This was a relief, but a nod was all Miki could manage.
‘Dale reckons we should move her and her young to a safe place so they won’t catch the disease.’
Did that mean the male devil would be left behind? Miki couldn’t bear the thought of his loneliness—it was something she knew about. ‘What about the male?’
‘He would have to stay. There’s nothing Dale can do …’
Miki dodged Leon’s eyes. There was too much kindness in them. If she looked at him, she might cry. ‘Where will Dale take them?’ she asked.
‘He wants to shift them to a sanctuary where they breed devils in captivity. They can be part of a program to release clean devils back into the wild.’
Miki had imagined the devils in a coastal forest with other healthy animals, a tribe they could interact with. She looked at Leon, shocked by this solution. ‘So they’d be in a zoo?’
He paused. ‘Kind of. Dale says the enclosures have plenty of room. And the devils would be well looked after. They would have food and company and space. No disease.’
‘And no freedom.’ Miki didn’t want her devils locked in. If they were stuck in a zoo she would have betrayed them. Their wildness was what she loved most about them. They were strong and confident. Freedom was important. No fences. No locks.
‘It’s not freedom if they catch that disease,’ Leon said. ‘All it would take is one bite and the others could catch it.’
When Leon put it this way, the sanctuary seemed necessary. But Miki still felt trapped. How would the devils cope with being closed in? She wouldn’t wish it on anyone. ‘When can Dale move them?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll ask him. You should come along and help catch them. Are Mondays still good?’
She hesitated. Could she pull off a second trapping trip without Kurt finding out? ‘Yes, Mondays.’
‘How about I slip you a note over the counter?’
She couldn’t think of any other way. ‘Okay. Just make sure Kurt doesn’t see …’
Leon shot her a look that showed he wasn’t fond of her brother. Miki was used to it—no one liked Kurt except her. They didn’t know him, she told herself. But a small niggle reminded her that he was hard to like, even for a sister.
‘It might not be soon,’ Leon said. ‘Dale’s trapping over in the Tarkine for a few weeks. I’ll let you know when I hear from him.’ A car whizzed by and he glanced at the Toyota, parked precariously on the roadside. ‘I’d better go.’
Miki had been focused on the devils, but now she thought of the trees. ‘Hang on,’ she said, ‘I want to ask you something.’
Leon turned back, eyebrows raised.
‘Kurt and I were up in the forest today and we came across some loggers cutting old trees. I don’t think they should be there. There’s a wedge-tailed eagle nest too.’
‘I’m pretty sure they’re allowed to cut old trees,’ Leon said. ‘But that nest would make a difference. Wedgies are a protected species. Where were they logging?’ Miki gave directions while Leon wrote them on a notepad. ‘It would help me to see it. Can you take me there now?’
This sounded logical, but Kurt would be furious if someone saw her with Leon. ‘The loggers are working up there,’ she said. ‘I don’t want them to see.’
Leon nodded. ‘It wouldn’t be good if they saw me up there either. Things are hard enough as it is.’ He paused. ‘How about we go this evening, after knock-off? Six-thirty?’
‘It’ll be dark,’ Miki pointed out.
‘I have a spotlight.’
She hesitated. ‘Kurt wouldn’t like it.’ Now that she’d put it out there, Leon should understand.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I could ask Geraldine to come too. She seems to enjoy an adventure.’
‘Maybe.’ Miki felt her options shrinking.
‘If you can’t do tonight, could we go tomorrow?’
‘No. Mondays are best.’
‘Let’s do it then. I’ll whizz back to town and line it up with Geraldine. How about I pick you up behind the visitor centre? Like last time. It’ll be okay. See you then.’ Leon smiled.
14
Leon’s mum had a knack for choosing the wrong time to phone him. Occasionally it was about something important, such as reporting Stan’s visits. Leon had tried to take action on that—he’d called Stan to warn him off, but his dad’s dodgy mate was refusing to pick up his phone. Mostly, though, when his mum rang, it was something trivial, like telling Leon the oven light had stopped working or that the neighbour’s dog had been killed by the tourist bus. ‘Do you want me to come home?’ he’d asked once or twice. But she’d turned him down, saying, ‘That’s kind, Leon, but it’s too far.’ She rang to tell him the bins hadn’t been emptied. ‘Maybe you should call the council,’ he’d said. ‘They’ll be able to tell you what happened.’ He knew she couldn’t discuss things with his dad, but he wished his father would make more of an effort to engage.
She rang when Leon was in the Parks Toyota with Miki and Geraldine, driving the winding road to the forest, headlights spearing the darkness. He wasn’t allowed to use his phone while driving, but right now he didn’t really care. He wasn’t supposed to carry passengers either, but nobody would see them at night. ‘Hi, Mum, is everything okay?’ he said quietly, acutely aware of Miki and Geraldine in the back seat.
‘Your father is vomiting,’ she said. ‘Do you think I should take him to hospital?’
This wasn’t the first time Leon’s dad had gone down in a heap. There had been intermittent episodes of vomiting ever since he’d first crashed and turned yellow. It was to be expected: his liver rebelling against constant abuse.
‘Maybe,’ Leon said. ‘But it’s hard to know from here. You’re probably the best judge. The last ferry is at seven-fifteen. You can still make it if you leave now.’
‘I have to get him dressed.’
‘The doctors won’t mind. Take him as he is.’
‘All right then. I’ll go.’
He hung up and focused on the dark road, swinging the curves and watching out for wallabies and wombats with a suicide wish—at night, they could barrel under the wheels at any time.
‘Is everything okay?’ Geraldine asked him.
‘Yeah, it’ll be fine.’
‘Somebody sick?’
‘My mum’s cat.’ They must have known he hadn’t been talking about a cat, but for some reason it was important to save face—he didn’t want to share his troubles from home.
Following Miki’s directions, he turned onto a side road, and within a few hundred metres the logged area opened before them. The headlights had a limited reach, but he could see the devastation and raw open space. Cut stumps. Piles of branches and bark. Discarded crowns. Bulldozed tree ferns. An abrupt wall of shadowy trees where the logged area ended. ‘Wow, they’ve hammered it!’ he said.
‘It’s horrible,’ Geraldine agreed. ‘No wonder you’re upset, Miki.’
‘I’m worried about the eagles,’ Miki said. ‘It’s not far to their tree.’
The cleared area seemed to stretch forever as Leon drove through it. Landscapes like this were not new to him—his family had been knocking down trees for decades. But this kind of ruin had made him diverge from family tradition. It
might have been possible, years ago, to think people couldn’t overcut forests, but now it had gone too far. Tasmania still had big trees, but areas of old-growth were declining. Leon didn’t know why they needed to cut old-growth at all. The large old trees were hollow inside or they split when they fell, and were basically useless for sawn timber. What was the point? They might as well leave the old trees behind. But loggers liked clearfelling because it was similar to mowing grass, safer and easier than selective logging, and they didn’t even have to get out of their machines. Tasmania had some of the best old-growth left in Australia. In a civilised country they ought to stop cutting it altogether. Back home on Bruny, they only cut pulp because there was no old-growth left. The same would happen here if things continued unchanged.
Leon was relieved to drive from the clearing back into unlogged forest. Out of sight, you could almost pretend the logged area didn’t exist. In the darkness, trees seemed to close around the vehicle, eerily lit by the headlights. This was how it was meant to be: forest like a blanket covering the earth.
Further on, Miki pointed out the eagles’ tree and Leon pulled up beneath it. When they slid out into the cold night, the trees seemed to lean towards them, shadowy and dense, branches reaching like arms, leaves rustling with invisible life. Leon thought of the tales he’d heard growing up, stories that demonised forests: Snow White being chased by the huntsman, Red Riding Hood stalked by the wolf, the hostile woods in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. Those stories instilled fear that evil lurked among trees—but no dark forces hovered here, waiting to destroy people. The creatures of the forest were busy doing their thing: bush rats and marsupial mice fossicking in the understorey, possums nibbling on leaves, owls hunting prey. If people learned to love the forest instead of fearing it, they might want to save it.
Leon fetched his spotlight and switched it on, shooting the beam up the trunk. There was the nest: a convoluted tangle of sticks and twigs, high on a branch.
‘Not exactly artists, are they?’ Geraldine said.
‘It’s been there more than two years, and it hasn’t blown down,’ Miki said. ‘I think that’s clever. The wind gets really strong up here.’
In the glow of the spotlight, the white arms of the trees stood out like bones, and silvered leaves shivered. Leon wondered if the eagles were around. He probed the canopy with the light to see if they were roosting nearby, but there was no sign of them.
‘Maybe they’ve been scared off,’ Miki said, her face doleful in the dark.
Her passion for eagles was unusual, Leon thought. Most birdwatchers were nature freaks, like him, or twitchers from ornithologist groups. But there was something off-beat about Miki. She was young but old at the same time, shy but direct, surprisingly observant. She’d been home-schooled—perhaps that was why she was a bit odd. Maybe she’d spent time watching birds because she hadn’t had other children to play with. He tried to imagine her life in the shop with Kurt. It was clear she’d been afraid to come out tonight, like on the night they’d trapped devils. Leon suspected Kurt wasn’t always kind to her. It was hard to tell from the outside, but Leon sensed she needed a friend—someone to talk to. ‘Sorry I can’t find your eagles,’ he said. ‘They must be camouflaged among all those leaves.’
Miki was disappointed. ‘Maybe they’re sleeping.’
‘They’re endangered, aren’t they?’ Geraldine said. ‘Why are there so few of them left?’
‘Farmers think they kill sheep,’ Leon explained, ‘so they shoot or poison them. And sometimes they fly into powerlines.’
‘How awful! How many are left?’
‘About three hundred pairs.’
Geraldine shook her head. ‘They’re so big you think they’re invincible, but nobody is.’
Miki said, ‘While we’re here, can I show you another tree? It’s further along the track. We’ll have to take the four-wheel drive and then walk.’
They packed themselves back into the Toyota and drove on. The track narrowed and became overgrown, shrubs scraping the sides of the car. Leon hoped he could find somewhere to turn round when it was time to go back; it seemed no one came here except Miki and Kurt.
Miki showed him where to park near a thicket of beech trees turning golden. They got out and she led the way along the track, walking slowly so Geraldine could keep up.
The tall tree loomed out of the darkness: the most enormous swamp gum Leon had ever seen. He stood with the others at its buttressed base in awed silence, gazing up the trunk to the shadowy crown that seemed to graze the star-dusted sky.
‘Can you switch off the spotlight?’ Miki asked. ‘I love just listening to the forest at night.’
Leon complied, and as his eyes adjusted he could make out the faint outline of stumpy branches high up. Everything seemed amplified in the gloom. The hum of mosquitoes. Creatures rustling in the undergrowth. Frogs and tree crickets chirruping.
Something snapped in the canopy, so he turned the spotlight on again and directed the beam towards the sound. There, sitting on a stubby branch, was a fluffy grey possum with pointy ears and a brushtail. It stared down, inspecting them closely, tail hanging like a hook, eyes flashing red in the spotlight. Then it started to move. Digging sharp claws into the bark, feet stretched wide, it scratched its way down the trunk then sprang into the understorey and scuttled off, using trees and shrubs like a trapeze artist.
Miki’s face was luminous. ‘Aren’t possums wonderful?’
She was obviously crazy about all forest creatures. Leon thought it was great to see someone so passionate about animals. Geraldine laughed. ‘I hate possums at home because they eat my roses and vegie garden. But, up here, they’re amazing. Do you come here often?’ she asked Miki.
‘Every week. I sit under this tree while Kurt goes bush. It’s peaceful.’
‘What does Kurt do out here?’ Leon asked, curious.
‘He goes shooting.’
‘Every week?’ Leon couldn’t conceal his surprise; Kurt couldn’t be much of a hunter if he kept coming back to the same place.
‘He doesn’t shoot things every time,’ Miki said, frowning.
Leon was astounded that she was sticking up for her brother. Surely it was clear the guy was indefensible. But there had been times when Leon had defended his father even though it wasn’t deserved. Blood was thicker than water.
Miki was looking at him expectantly. ‘It’s a beautiful tree, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Do you think we can save this one as well as the eagles’ tree when we stop the logging?’
Leon sighed. He was just a lowly ranger. But he promised to see what he could do.
15
At school on Thursday, Callum came running up to Max at lunchtime and told him Jaden wanted to see him behind the toilets after school. Max didn’t want to. After Jaden had thrown Bruiser in the air, Max hated him even more. A kid could run away from Jaden’s bullying, but the pups couldn’t protect themselves.
When the school bell rang at the end of the day, Max fetched his bag and considered going straight home. If he ran fast, he could get there before Jaden realised he wasn’t going to show up. But what if Jaden came around again and said he wanted to play with the pups? If he was mad at Max, this time he might drop a pup and kill it. Max didn’t have any choice. He sloped behind the toilets where Jaden and Callum were waiting.
Jaden had a nasty glint in his eyes. ‘How are those pups going? How’s Bruiser?’
‘They’re good.’
‘Big enough for my dog’s breakfast? Prince is very hungry.’
Max tried not to show his horror. ‘They’re too small. I can bring dog food instead. It’ll fill him up more.’
Jaden sneered. ‘Forget dog food. Bring something else. Get me cigarettes. Your mum and dad smoke—you can nick some from them.’
Max was panicky. How was he supposed to do that? If Dad caught him stealing cigarettes, he would kill him. ‘I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can.’
‘Just open a pack and take s
ome out. I want them tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yep. Or I’ll come and take one of your pups.’
At home, Max ran into the shed and was relieved to see the pups were all there. Rosie leaped out of her box and jumped at Max’s legs for food, so he filled her bowl. Then he took some kibble into the kitchen and soaked it in milk for the pups. They all yipped excitedly when he came back, and bounced up and down, desperate to eat. Normally it was funny when they did this, but tonight Max wasn’t laughing. He put the bowl down and leaned against the door, watching them eat. When the bowl was empty, he let them out on the lawn; they galloped around, stopping to chew grass and have play fights. It didn’t take long to wear them out, then Max put them away and went inside. Usually he hung out in the shed for hours, but he was miserable so he went inside and played Call of Duty. Before the pups were born it had been his favourite game. Everyone at school still talked about it, but he was bored with it now.
He was still killing zombies when Dad came home. After a four-week break, Max was way down on points and didn’t feel like going to dinner. But Mum told him to get off that bloody thing, and Dad frowned at him from the table, so Max had to go. It was chops and three veg again, and Mum had forgotten to buy tomato sauce so he had to have barbecue sauce instead, which was disgusting. He got in trouble for eating too slow and then for using his knife and fork wrong, and then for not chewing the meat off his bone. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him alone?
During the meal, he kept trying to see what Dad had done with his pack of cigarettes. Sometimes he left them on the kitchen bench or out in the shed, but mostly they stayed in his pocket. Mum was in a bad mood, so she told Max to wash the dishes. ‘What about Suzie?’ he said. ‘She never does anything.’
‘Just do it,’ Dad said, ‘or I’ll knock you into next week.’
Dad didn’t smack him much but when he did, it hurt, so Max put on Mum’s pink rubber gloves and squirted dishwashing liquid into the sink. He took ages washing the dishes because it was fun playing with the bubbles and sometimes Mum got so fed up she couldn’t help taking over. But not tonight. Mum put Suzie in the bath and then, in the lounge room, she and Dad started arguing. Dad was watching the news and drinking beer, and Mum was folding the washing.
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