by Meg Buchanan
I tell him, “No way.” Jacob looks irritated, the way he usually does if I don’t fall straight into line.
“Ela won’t be any trouble. She’ll just tag along.”
I’ve heard that before. Ela used to follow me around all day. She was ten, I was twelve, our dads were mates, and I’d get stuck with looking after her while they were off doing stuff.
“The kid tagging along again, that’s all I need. I’m not doing it.”
“I pay your wages. You’ll do as you’re told,” says Jacob.
“You pay me to work on the farm, not to entertain your relatives.”
Jacob tugs at the brim of his hat. Raindrops roll off it. “It’s only for two weeks, and how long since you’ve seen her?”
“Five, maybe six years, just before Vector got her old man.”
“She’s grown up a bit since then.”
“Yeah, grown up in the City. I can see how this will go. Me starting her bike, me picking it up, me opening gates, her sitting in the way.”
“You know she can handle a bike.” Then Jacob changes the subject. “Fitzgerald talked to me about what happened at the Stevens’.” This is it. This is why I planned on getting well to the back of the farm before Jacob noticed I’d arrived. I put my foot on the kick start, ready to drown out Mr Jacob Hennessey. “It wasn’t your fault,” says Jacob, and I’m a bit surprised to say the least. “Nothing you did changed what would have happened.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Just accept it.” Then he goes back to the Ela conversation. “And I’m serious. Your job is to be with her if I’m not.”
“What if she sees something she shouldn’t?”
“We can trust her. Ela’s fine. Come back to the house when you see her arrive. I want you to meet her before you go home.”
I reach down to turn on the fuel tap. The sleeve of my Swanndri rides up a bit. “And get that off,” Jacob says when he notices the wrist shield. “You can’t be OffGrid so often.” Jacob and I have had the wrist shield discussion before. The shield masks the Locate implanted in my wrist. The idea the Administration can track me pisses me off, so I wear the shield most of the time. Just to keep him happy, I undo the catch and stick the shield in my pocket. He uses the time to deliver a ‘how wonderful Ela is’ speech.
“She’s a good kid, she’s bright, she’s pretty, she’s easy to talk to...”
I’ve heard enough. “All right.”
Then he goes on to give me my jobs. All the normal stuff, spray the tomatoes in the glasshouse, he noticed a few aphids, prick out the seedlings, move some cattle.
“Okay.” I’m ready to get on with it.
“And,” says Jacob, “tomorrow I want you to go to Curley’s. He’s got more stuff for us. Check it, and send out any warnings you need to.”
Must be another meeting tomorrow he doesn’t want me around for. It pisses me off he does that. He’s known me all my life. I’ve been working for him for a month, and he still only trusts me with the small stuff.
Finally, I get to kick the bike into life. It roars. The Quarantine started in New Zealand twenty years ago, and the Administration stopped all imports for anything outside Auckland city, so Jacob hasn’t been able to update his gear for twenty years. His bikes are noisy.
*
I’m headed back to the house and a black car slides silently up the driveway. A sleek, brand new, black Eco Self Drive. Then Jacob’s out on the veranda peering through the rain. Jacob lives in an old villa that’s been in his family for generations. It’s big and white, wide verandas, French doors, turned posts, lead light windows, huge rooms with high ceilings. He’s holding the shotgun he keeps by the front door.
The Eco opens, and the door floats up like a wing. Good hydraulics in those Ecos. A girl hops out, all dark blue flowing cloak and hood like they wear in the City. Jacob lowers the gun. The girl braves the rain and runs over to him. She pushes the hood down. Her hair is black and straight and falls way down her back, and she hugs him.
Now, there are two strange things about that little scene. One, coming out to meet his granddaughter with a shotgun is odd behaviour even for Jacob, especially when he knew she was coming. And two, who lets a sixteen-year-old girl drive a brand new Eco Self Drive? We don’t see a lot of those new Ecos. Only the Elite are allowed to import them, and they don’t usually come this far south. They don’t like mud, or rain, or any weather for that matter. They like to live all protected from real life.
*
I go over to the house. “I’ve moved the stock and fed the dogs.” I hold the door open by the handle, my arm dripping, my shoulder leaning against the frame, and boots like they want to make a quick getaway.
“Come in, Jack,” says Jacob.
“I’m wet.” I let go the door handle and shake my arm to demonstrate.
“Doesn’t matter. Come and have a cuppa.” Jacob goes into the kitchen.
“Mum said to get home early.”
“It will only take ten minutes.”
“I have to take my boots off.”
“We can wait.” Jacob sounds like he means it, so I undo the laces, toe the boots off, leave them on the porch, and go inside. I stop beside the dining room door and prop myself against the frame, arms folded. It’s like being in one of those holograms the teachers used to show how life was before the Quarantine. It’s all muted colours, worn edges, cream walls, curtains with tiny bunches of flowers, in the dining room. There’s even pull-out bins that hold the flour and sugar. I watch Ela Hennessey. I have to admit I’m curious to see if she’s still like that little kid I used to look after.
She watches back. Studying me too. And it’s annoying. You get dumped by your girlfriend, and then every girl you bump into looks at you like you have two heads.
“Like what you see?” I ask finally.
“Sorry,” she says and sort of smiles. “You look different.”
“Yeah, you’ve changed too.” Same grey eyes and black hair, but older and glossier. Elite girls tend to dress real sexy, Locals don’t. Around here the girls wear a bit more skirt. She’s wearing these heavy red boots that are shiny and pretending to be work boots, and she’s got on a short black dress with a fluttery skirt that would just cover her backside if she stood up. She’s even wearing makeup and has got crystal teardrops on her cheek. She sits there looking like an Elite dress up doll.
“I’m looking after you again,” I say.
“Why do I need to be looked after?”
Jacob pokes his head through the door. He’d gone back out to the kitchen to fetch another mug. “I don’t want you in the house on your own.”
“Why? I’ve been at the house on my own plenty of times.” Miss Hennessey looks pretty puzzled. Not too many sixteen-year-old girls get to have a babysitter.
Jacob finds a white jug in the fridge and waves it at me through the door.
“Milk?” he asks. Disappears again for a moment. Then comes back into the dining room and shoves a cup of chocolate in my direction.
“Here you go, Jack.” He sits down at the table, stacks up some papers and dumps them on the floor.
The drink’s hot and I’m cold and wet. I stay put by the door and have a sip.
Jacob pushes a chair out for me with his foot. Nods at the chair, as he does.
I sit.
Miss Hennessey looks at Jacob. “Why don’t you want me here on my own?” she asks.
“Your mum wants me to keep you out of trouble for once.”
That’s news to me. Who would’ve thought it? Miss Perfect Elite gets into trouble.
I give her another look. Miss Hennessey’s eyes flick to me then back at Jacob. “So, I’m to have a minder?” I can tell she’s about as happy with the idea as I am. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m not kidding. I’m serious,” he says. “Tomorrow, Jack’s got some stuff to do for me. I want you to go with him.” He’s getting rid of her too, and I’m stuck with her. Go for it, Jacob. I don’t even like her type
: girls so groomed they look like they’ve been airbrushed.
“Really?” She looks back at me like she wants that confirmed before she’ll believe it.
Jacob nods. “Yes, Jack will look after you while you’re here. Connect up your phones so you can contact each other.”
Ela picks up her Com. She looks reluctant, but she’s almost ready to swipe it by mine.
I leave my Com in my pocket. I can hear the rain hitting against the window panes and the wind blowing in strong gusts. So far, I’ve done what he wants. I’ve met her again, and I’ve agreed to babysit, so it’s time to get out of here. I stand up and put my mug in the sink.
“I’ve got to get home.” I turn to Ela. “Do I have to pick you up tomorrow, or can you manage to come to the pub?” Polite, I know.
Jacob gives me the raised eyebrow I get when he’s starting to find me irritating. He should consider himself bloody lucky I like him and usually like this job.
“I’ll meet you,” says Ela.
“I’ll be leaving around nine.” I walk out to the porch and Jacob follows me. I sit down on the armchair there and put my boots back on. Monsanto stands up and sniffs around.
“You need to take this job seriously, Jack,” Jacob says. “It’s your job to protect her. If she doesn’t like it, or doesn’t want to go with you, pick her up and carry her is the option I’d suggest. Make sure she’s never left alone. That she’s never at risk.”
That seems pretty extreme. “Why?” I ask. I tie up the laces.
“It’s important.”
“If you’re expecting trouble, maybe you should call Fitzgerald.”
“I’ve got Ela for back up now.”
Yeah, right. She’s probably forgotten how to even load a rifle. I go down the steps. The dog follows, and we brave the rain.
Chapter 3
“YOU’RE GETTING BEHIND.” Nick puts two more beers on the leaner right by my almost full glass. “How did it go with Jacob?”
“Much the same as Fitzgerald.” I pick up the beer. I look over at the TV screen, a Transgenics ad comes on. ‘Transgene saves the World after the oil runs out.’ Again. I watch those babies bumble across the ocean. Jacob says it’s Transgene’s fault the world’s in the mess it’s in. They created Genus 6 for biofuel and suddenly most of the world’s infertile.
Nick puts his elbows on the leaner and cradles his glass with both hands. He breathes out. That’s how I felt too after talking to Jacob. I’d expected to really cop it from him. Me and Nick both know we shouldn’t have gone hunting, should have done what we were meant to do. But it was the sort of morning you’d want to be out hunting. But it meant we got to the Stevens’ too late. The whole Stevens’ saga just depresses me.
“Where’s Joe?” I ask to change the subject. Joe is Nick’s little brother. He’s seventeen and not that little actually. He’s about a year younger than Nick and me and about as tall. Usually he’d be here.
“Had to stay home. He told Mum and Dad about Lucinda.”
“Would’ve been fun.”
“Yeah, real fun. Dad hit the roof, said Joe shouldn’t have left telling him until she was showing.” It’s against the law to get pregnant now.
“What are they going to do?”
“Don’t know,” says Nick after a bit of a hesitation. I’m pretty sure even if he knew, he wouldn’t be allowed to say. I guess that’s why Fitzgerald was at their place when the Stevens’ stuff went down.
We watch Arthur, Mum’s barman, serving the drinks. Arthur has the battered face of an old prize fighter. He says he thinks the way he looks has probably saved him a lot of trouble.
“How’s work?” I ask to let Nick off the hook. I wouldn’t mind Nick’s job with the Department of Eugenics. Mine’s not bad, but his has its advantages. He gets to spend his time in the bush checking for rogue plants, and while he’s working he keeps his eye out for good hunting spots for us.
“Not bad.” Nick hesitates for a bit. “We had a problem with some grass catching fire near the camping ground last week.”
“I thought it would be too wet for that.”
“Nah,” says Nick. Then he gives a grin. “You heard from Katie?” He knows that wouldn’t have gone well.
“Got a ‘Dear Jack’ email.”
Nick looks puzzled then catches on. “Can’t be too much of a surprise.”
“Yeah.” Actually, I’m more insulted than heartbroken at being dropped, but I don’t have to like it. And Katie’s email was friendly, considering. But I’m still dropped. And it’s annoying as Nick could take his pick of girls if he wanted a girlfriend. And he could neglect her for as long as he wanted to. When you’re blond, blue-eyed and built like he is, getting dropped isn’t the problem. But when you’re on the skinny side, with brownish eyes and brownish hair like me, you don’t have the same pulling power.
I look through the glass doors of the private bar. The Willis brothers are talking to two men who are vaguely familiar. They’re all looking at stuff on a Tablet. Nick watches them too. The older man is big. He looks like he spends half his life in the gym. He touches the Tablet screen and takes a long look at something. You can tell it isn’t what he wants to see.
The guy beside him is younger but pretty much the same size. He leans back almost horizontal. He’s a bit menacing, his hands in his pockets as if this isn’t his problem yet, but if it keeps going like this it will be.
Henry and Charlie Willis lean in. As usual, they’ve got jeans slung under their bellies, black t-shirts stretched tight, a matching pair. They go together like jug and kettle, truck and trailer. Tonight, something about Charlie and Henry Willis gets our attention. The way they sit looks like their lives depend on keeping the old guy in the coat happy.
Interesting. Might report that meeting to Jacob. He says we need to keep our eye out for anything unusual happening, report it to him or Fitzgerald.
We go back to watching the TV. A couple of times I stare through the glass doors at the Willises again. Whatever is happening is still going badly for Henry and Charlie.
The older man snaps a question at them. Henry answers, palms upturned, shoulders shrugging. His brother nods in agreement. That’s what Charlie Willis does, agrees with his brother, Henry. He hits his palm with his fist.
The other man doesn’t answer, just leans back in his chair and links his fingers behind his head. He narrows his eyes and looks at the Willises as if he is considering his options then barks a question at them.
After a while Nick stands up. “See you at the weekend.”
“Yeah. See you.” Nick leaves. Mum picks up a tray, goes through the glass door and up to the Willis’s table. She smiles as she tidies the empty glasses. They stop talking for a moment, and she takes the order for the next round, wipes the wet rings off the table top then goes across to the bar.
Henry answers the man’s question and the talk goes on. Finally, the man gathers up the Tablet, hands it to the younger guy. Stands, and says something again.
Henry and Charlie nod. Still interesting. Will definitely report it to Jacob.
Mum wanders over to where I’m sitting, starts clearing the glasses.
“Nick gone?” she asks.
“Got something on.” I’m making it up. I’ve no idea why he left suddenly like that. Mum leans back against the wall. My mum’s pretty young for a mum. She’s still slim, with dark hair and brown eyes like me. When I was at school, the two of us spent half our time in the Principal’s office discussing why I should be allowed to stay. She said I never helped my case by sitting slouched in the chair saying things designed to set the prick off again.
She fills a glass, hands it to me. I put the glass on the bar top. Mum finds a coaster, picks up the glass, puts it on the coaster, then wipes up the ring of moisture.
“What were the Willises doing here?” I ask.
“Looking at NavMaps.”
“Who was that with them?” I figure Jacob will want to know that too, doesn’t like jobs done half-arse
d. She leans forward and whispers as if it is a secret.
“Carlos Vincent, sounds Australian, said he was a mate.” So, even the Willises have mates, and they’re mates who are still allowed to travel.
“Why’s he here?”
“On holiday. Was here on Saturday morning. That’s what I wanted to tell Fitzgerald.”
“What about the other guy?”
“Didn’t get his name, sounded Australian too.”
Chapter 4
MY COM BUZZES. I’m asleep, so it takes a while to answer. Once I’m almost awake, I have trouble finding my jeans on the floor. Then more trouble with the pocket the Com is in.
“Fraser,” I croak, still trying to get the thing the right way around. Sounding groggy, sounding like I’ve just woken up and couldn’t find my Com.
“It’s Ela,” says the Com.
I’m suddenly awake. “What’s wrong?”
“Jacob said to call you. He’s been hurt.”
Ela tells me about a break in at Jacob’s place, and Jacob ending up in hospital. I can hear the way she’s working to keep her voice under control.
“Where are you now?”
“Outside Jacob’s house on the veranda.”
“Is anyone with you?”
“No, and it’s dark, and I can see the door is open, and I know I shut it and locked it before I went to the hospital. I don’t know what to do.”
“Get into your Eco and keep the doors locked. If anything happens before I get there, leave. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She’s alone. It’s exactly what Jacob said not to let happen. And she’s standing outside Jacob’s house when someone could be in it. It doesn’t sound like the brightest place for her to be. I figure she needs some help.
*
I turn into the driveway, drive towards the house, pull up by the steps, and slide to a halt. My headlights shine on the veranda and the old chair sitting there. Beside the chair the front door is wide open, darkness spilling out.