by Laney Cairo
"The Wagyl ate people?” Samuel asked, looking with deep concern at the map, and how close Talgerit's finger was to the yellow area that marked the University of Western Australia.
"Ate whiteman,” Talgerit said. “Not people. It wouldn't eat Noongar unless they'd pissed it off.” He looked up from the map and grinned at Samuel. “You're Noongar now, maybe it won't eat you."
"Maybe not,” Samuel said, but he didn't think that was enough of a guarantee, he'd like a little more certainty about these things. He shifted his finger to the yellow area. “That's where I need to go, Talgerit. Think you might know the way there?"
Talgerit peered at the map and shrugged. “I've not been to Perth since I was a little boy, before the bombs, and I can't remember the roads, but since the roads aren't there anymore, that doesn't matter. I can find it, find Samuel's clock."
"Josh said there were bad lands between here and Perth. What's there?” Samuel asked.
Talgerit shrugged, eloquent expression of unconcern. “Don't know. Ed says that the Dreaming has come back in places, and we'll have to cross them, but we can do that."
"Are you scared of that?” Samuel asked.
Talgerit lifted his substantial eyebrows. “I'm not, but I didn't scream when Ed scarred me. Maybe you and Dr. Nick will be scared, but I won't. Now, I want to hear your Law, about going to the moon. How will we get there? What does the machine look like that will take us?"
Samuel folded the map up and put it away, and leaned back against the bed head. This was something he knew all about, something he'd lived with for the past seven years, he could talk for hours about the project.
He was still talking when Nick came back to the farm, with Talgerit wide-eyed and enthralled, listening to every word, even though Samuel had given up attempting to translate from the engineering terms he was so familiar with into something that Talgerit might have the life experience to understand.
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Chapter Seven
Talgerit hauled on the starter cord, yanking it hard, yet again, and the generator gave a hopeful chug that time.
"Gonna work, Samuel, eh?” he asked, looking hopefully at Samuel, who was soldering connections in the lighting switch board he'd rigged up for the camp.
Samuel reached over and pressed his fingers over the repaired injector unit, and it felt like the seal was holding. “Could be,” he said. “Keep trying."
Talgerit gripped the end of the cord again, where it had wound back, and flexed his muscular arms. They'd been doing this for a while, trying to get the generator started, and it was hard work, at least for Talgerit who was doing the sweating.
This time the chug lasted longer, then died off. Talgerit said something in Noongar, and the tone made it clear it was obscene, then hauled on the cord again. This time the generator spluttered into life, the chugging catching, and Samuel could hear the compression building in the chamber.
Talgerit shouted jubilantly and bounced out of the shack the generator was housed in, and Samuel followed him more slowly, moving cautiously and pausing to pull his trousers away from the wounds on his thigh.
Talgerit was running around the clearing in the middle of the shacks, leaping in the air, and Samuel grinned widely. He felt a bit like that himself.
"I'll try the lights!” Talgerit shouted as people began to appear from the bush and shacks. He dove back into the generator shack, behind Samuel, and began flicking switches at random.
The floodlight over the clearing began to glow faintly, and Samuel stood there, propped up on one crutch still, nodding to himself with satisfaction.
People in the clearing cheered. Talgerit bounced out of the shack again and slapped Samuel hard on the back, making him wobble.
"It works!” Talgerit said, shining brighter than the floodlight that was glowing under the overcast sky.
"I've hooked it up to the bore pump, too,” Samuel said. “So the bore will run at night if you need it to."
"What you going to fix next?” Talgerit asked expectantly.
Samuel looked around the camp. “Where's the toilets?” he asked Talgerit. Everyone pissed in the forest, he knew that, but they couldn't shit in the forest, too, not and be hygienic.
Talgerit looked puzzled. “Toilets are for whiteman,” he explained. “Noongar don't have them."
It was Samuel's turn to look puzzled. “Where do you shit?"
They'd run into a cultural difference, obviously, because Talgerit said, “Wherever we want to. Not next to the creek, not in the camp, because that makes people sick."
"Doesn't it make people sick, just leaving your shit lying around?” Samuel asked, now genuinely curious.
Talgerit started laughing, and in between guffaws he said, “Doesn't lie around. That's what dogs are for."
Samuel looked at the collection of wide-faced pointy-nosed yellow dogs that were gamboling around the camp, playing with the kids, with horror. He'd patted those dogs, especially the puppies that one bitch had with her, let them climb into his lap...
Talgerit elbowed Samuel, chuckling away. “Samuel is Noongar now, he has to shit in the bush. Don't worry, we'll take a dog with us to Perth. So, what are you fixing?"
"Think I should go fix Nick's house,” Samuel said. “I still haven't got his lighting working yet. Will you drive me there?"
"Drive you anywhere, Samuel,” Talgerit said. “And you have to make Dr. Nick happy, or he might not kiss you again."
* * * *
In the darkness of the winter night, with rain just starting, after spending an hour with a fretful Mrs. Pocock the Elder, Nick pulled the van in beside the shearing shed and stared at his house in amazement. Instead of a faint yellow splinter of candle light in the kitchen window, the whole place was lit up, bright white light spilling out onto the garden, the light over the back door was on, and the whole place looked like the Christmas trees of his childhood.
He hung his raincoat up, stepped out of his boots, patted a bewildered Harold on the head, sniffed appreciatively at the cooking smells and pushed the kitchen door open.
Samuel was standing in front of the stove, lit brilliantly by the light bulb hanging in the middle of the room, stirring something, and the full wave of spice and onion hit Nick's nostrils.
Talgerit was leaning over the stove beside Samuel, and he looked up and grinned at Nick. “Hey, Dr. Nick,” he said. “Samuel has made your lights work."
Samuel smiled at Nick, and Nick said, “Forget the lights, that smells fantastic. Where's Josh? He can't possibly have gone somewhere else for dinner, not with whatever you're cooking on the menu."
"He's off at Jo's, swapping a goose for the ingredients for tonight's dinner,” Samuel said. “Thought we could eat something other than roast sheep."
"So what are we having then?” Nick asked, peering over Samuel's other shoulder and breathing in deeply.
"Something with some flavor in it,” Samuel said determinedly. “For a change. I was surprised to find out from Jo that it is possible to buy spices in Albany. For some reason, perhaps having only had hospital food and the food here, I'd got the impression that there was no flavoring available anywhere."
"Spices cost scrip,” Nick pointed out he stuck his fingers into the mess in the pan and snared a piece of meat. “Oh, that's good,” he said, licking his fingers. “What is it?"
"Metagee,” Samuel said. “Or it would be if I could get all of the ingredients. It's something close to metagee. And it only takes a tiny bit of spice to make something taste good."
The rich first taste of the metagee faded, and a burn spread through Nick's mouth. He gasped and said, “That's not just a little bit of spice."
Talgerit said, “He put his fingers in the food! That's not fair. You won't let me do that."
"That's because you come from a camp with no toilets,” Samuel said. “And Dr. Nick washes his hands all the time.” Samuel looked at Nick and added, “How can the conditions be bearable? With the dogs eating the shit?"
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"They're coprophagic,” Nick said. “It's a reasonable hunter-gatherer solution to the problem, but you're right, too, there's no way I'd let Talgerit put his hands in the food.” He grabbed another piece of meat and ate it.
"You'll change your mind,” Talgerit said. “When you want me to catch and cook rabbits, when we go to Perth."
Talgerit's car rumbled into the yard, beside the shearing shed, and a minute later Josh walked into the house, nose in the air, sniffing.
"That just gets better and better, each time I smell it,” Josh said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “When's dinner?"
"When the wheat is cooked,” Samuel said, lifting the lid off another pan, letting out a blast of steam.
"You can't boil wheat,” Nick said, looking at the roiling water, and the grains of wheat swirling in it.
"Of course I can,” Samuel said. “It was the closest thing I could find to rice, to go with the metagee."
At the dinner table, across the loaded plates, Nick said, “That's so good."
Talgerit looked up from shoveling food into his mouth voraciously. “Excellent,” he said around a mouthful of wheat and meat. “Dr. Nick, no wonder you want to kiss Samuel."
Nick caught the momentary pause in Josh's gorging that Talgerit's comment caused, ignored it, ate another mouthful, and let the taste linger. He could remember food he'd eaten a lifetime ago, curries and fried chicken and sushi, and wine he had drunk, but he'd never expected to taste anything remotely like them again. The metagee was sweet and spicy at first, then meaty and salty, then hot, burning his mouth.
Josh was racing Talgerit, by the looks of it, though he was hampered by having been taught at least some table manners by Fineen, where as Talgerit was using two spoons and his fingers for maximum efficiency and not bothering to chew as he went.
Samuel was watching Nick's face when he glanced up, and Samuel had an intensity about his gaze that reminded Nick of watching Samuel scratch his leg a few days before. The wait for Samuel to be healed looked like it was going to be even more difficult to bear.
Josh and Talgerit ate two huge platefuls each, piling the plates up with boiled wheat and metagee, and guzzling vast amounts of water because of the burn, but Nick stopped after one ordinary serve. He didn't want to make himself sick, and it was so much more fun to watch Josh and Talgerit do it anyway.
Talgerit left after dinner, clutching his belly and almost waddling, leaving behind a mess that was plainly visible in the electric light. “I'll clean up,” Nick said reluctantly. “Since Samuel cooked and Josh has been working all day."
"Haven't you been working?” Samuel asked.
"No,” Nick said. “I've actually spent the entire day sitting in my office, eating the scones with jam and cream, and cups of tea that Jo has been bringing me.” He grinned. “Of course I've been working. Got to sew up Claire from Ongerup's arm from where she fell off the tractor."
"She needs a stump-jump plough,” Josh said wisely.
"She needs lots of things,” Nick replied.
* * * *
When the electric light was off, and the room was back to its usual nighttime inky blackness, Nick slid into bed beside Samuel, and Samuel's hands found him, drawing him close.
The sheets were chilly against Nick's bare skin, but Samuel was warm and willing, mouth open and tasting of bicarb of soda from brushing his teeth, and Nick kissed him deeply.
Samuel's hand stroked down his back, dragging sharp edges of nails across his ribs, and in the dark it all became so certain, so real, shivering and present, then Samuel's hand curled around his cock and began to stroke him.
"Samuel,” Nick whispered. “Don't... Too much..."
"Let me,” Samuel murmured back, mouth against Nick's.
Nick did.
* * * *
The crashing from the kitchen pulled Nick from bed, making him pull on clothes in the dark and find his slippers on the icy floor. He pulled the covers tighter around Samuel without waking him, and closed the door quietly behind himself.
It was strange, being able to turn the bathroom light on to piss and wash his hands and face. In the silvered mirror, his face was unfamiliar, an almost-smile right there, under his beard.
It was strange to find a fully-lit Josh in the kitchen, whistling as he stirred his porridge on the stove, dressed ready for a day in the cold.
"Morning,” Josh said, as Nick reached for the teapot.
"Morning,” Nick said, and he felt as well-lit as the room.
"Kettle's not boiled yet,” Josh pointed out. “We had another frost last night."
"That'd be winter then,” Nick said, and some of how he felt must have been in his voice because Josh studied him closely, with that faraway gaze of his.
When the kettle boiled, Josh filled the teapot and spooned in the chicory, and sat down at the table, opposite Nick.
"Dad,” he said. “If you want to do this, then I think you should. I can run the farm by myself, if I don't crop as many paddocks, run some goats as well as sheep, keep a couple of pigs to sell in Albany."
"Time's running out for me,” Nick said. “I've had several lifetimes’ worth of radiation exposure, and received every vaccination the armed forces could think of. I'm not going to be here forever."
"Like Mum,” Josh said. “I'd realized that. I think I'd just been fooling myself, telling myself you wouldn't leave, that the community needed you and you wouldn't leave your patients."
Nick put his hand over Josh's, on the table. “I had to think about that, too, had to remind myself that being a person matters more than being a doctor."
"I couldn't think of a reason to not like Samuel either,” Josh said. “He's a good bloke.” He smiled a little and added, “And he can cook. Really, I think that's the most important thing. If you both survive this, bring him back here, and he can learn to drive a tractor, then he'll be perfect."
"Thank you,” Nick said. “For everything."
Josh smiled wider. “Looks like I'll have to pursue Jenny Duggan myself if I want to keep eating her jam."
"She can drive a tractor and cook,” Nick said. “She'd meet your criteria."
* * * *
The rain water tanks for the house and shed were both overflowing, the dams on the farm were full, too, and the paddocks that Josh had sown with wheat, oats and clover were all a foot deep in green growth, and it was still raining.
"It'll stop soon,” Josh said morosely, standing on the back verandah and watching the deluge. “There'll be no more rain, not till next year."
The sheep in the top paddock all looked waterlogged, dragging around immense burdens of soggy wool as they grazed, and Samuel watched a bedraggled and dripping procoptodon hop slowly through the top paddock, Harold barking at its heels, scattering the sheep.
"Stop exaggerating,” Nick replied, his arm slung around Samuel's shoulder. “There'll be a late summer storm, with hail and lightning strikes, and the crop'll be ruined."
The procoptodon took out the fence between the paddock and the nascent wheat crop with a loping hop, and Josh reached for his waterproof jacket where it hung beside the back door.
"Bloody things,” Josh said, and waded out into the mud after retrieving a pair of pliers from the windowsill.
"I'm going to take your cast off tomorrow,” Nick said, nuzzling against Samuel's neck. “Then we can go."
Samuel leaned against Nick's shoulder and slid his arm around Nick's waist. After all he'd done to get that far, he found himself reluctant to leave the farm. “It's comfortable here,” he said. “Besides, we'll have to find Talgerit, he could be anywhere."
"You watch,” Nick said. “Talgerit will turn up exactly when he's needed, he's learning to be a clever man."
* * * *
This time, when Nick cut Samuel's cast off, Jo wasn't there, and when he'd yanked the cast off, and cut away the padding and gauze, Nick kissed Samuel and said, “Scratch yourself, I want to watch this."
Samuel looked down at his
thigh and said, “That's disgusting. I can't scratch that until I've had a bath."
Dead skin was flaking off, mixed with shreds of gauze and tufts of padding, all stuck to his leg, and it looked hideous.
"With the cast off, you can have a bath now,” Nick pointed out. “Stove's been on all morning, there'll be plenty of hot water."
"A bath...” Samuel said, sighing. “That would be wonderful. I've never been so grubby in all my life."
"It'll be the last time you'll be clean for a while,” Nick said. “Make the most of it."
The bath was heaven. Samuel had never seen a bathtub long enough for an adult to stretch out in, but the one at the farmhouse was, and with the rain drumming steadily against the roof and the gutters gurgling he didn't need to feel bad about using so much rainwater.
Nick was there, scissors in one hand, in front of the mirror, hacking away at his shaggy beard and scruffy hair. Samuel had done his before the bath, and consequently hair bits floated in the water.
Samuel washed his head with the slab of soap, scrubbing away at the skin, then sunk down under the water to rinse the suds off.
When he emerged, Nick was trimming under his chin, pulling absurd faces in the mirror, and Samuel slid a hand down his belly.
The scars on his chest and thigh were much the same, dark red ridges of new skin, and Samuel found that he was now proud of the scars.
Nick knelt down beside the bath and slid his hand across the scars on Samuel's chest as well. “Need a hand washing?” he asked, and he reached for the bar of soap.
A thudding and grinding sounded from outside, and it wasn't the steady thumpthump of the tractor. Nick put the soap down. “Sounds like company,” he said.
Harold barked, just once, then gave a scared yip, and Talgerit called out, “You two kissing again?” and the back door thudded open.
"Yes!” Nick called back. “Have some food while you wait!"