by Laney Cairo
"We can all swim, unna?” Talgerit asked, and Nick and Samuel nodded. “Take the small one. The river isn't like an ocean, it has sides to swim to."
Talgerit put the dog into the fiberglass dinghy, and clambered in, his feathers dripping over the bottom of the boat. Samuel followed, and took the paddles that Nick handed him, and the bags, then Nick almost tipped the boat over climbing in.
"Take a paddle,” Nick said. “Try not to lose it, but if you do, I have extras."
A short, splashy and uncoordinated time later, Samuel said, “Perhaps we should walk."
The dog yipped, the noise drifting away on the mounting southerly wind that meant it was going to rain later, and the world went glassy and smooth.
"Talgerit?” Samuel asked.
Nick looked down, at the boat shimmering slightly and his own hand on the paddle, then back over his shoulder at the others, who began to gleam as he watched.
The boat lurched in the water, then slid forward smoothly, gliding over the small waves, without their paddles touching the water.
"That's not me making the boat move,” said Talgerit.
The boat picked up speed, so the waves slapped against the hull, and the bits of Nick's hair that weren't matted solid blew against his face.
"We've got some help,” Nick said.
They slid down the gray river, against the flow of the water, past ruined buildings on the foreshore, under the remains of bridges, and without being noticed by a chopper that buzzed over the top of them.
A kind of peace settled over Nick. They'd come so far, with all of them still alive, and now they were heading home again, carrying the sapphire from the clock.
A seagull swooped past them, then two, then a flock of gulls flung themselves squabbling into the water, and Talgerit said, “We're away from the poison, the animals have come back."
The river narrowed, as they moved upstream, and the boat lifted up over the remains of a weir, then slid under a bridge, this time intact.
"Can you hear vehicles?” Samuel asked, in a whisper.
"Cars, like boyee,” Talgerit said quietly.
The boat beached itself, without Nick touching the paddle. They clambered out, and dragged the boat under trees, hiding it from the bridge.
Talgerit crouched down, at the side of the river, and washed his face and hands, then stayed there for a moment, and Nick didn't hurry him.
Talgerit stood up, then slung arms over Nick and Samuel's shoulders. “Home,” Talgerit said.
They walked, through bush and abandoned suburb, to where the bridge came down, in a long slick of black bitumen. From the shade of a gum tree, they watched as military truck rumbled past, heading south.
"Military means checkpoints,” Nick said. “If we follow the road, we'll find one."
"I don't care that I'm not carrying papers,” Samuel said. “Not now."
"Steal a truck with food,” Talgerit suggested.
The checkpoint was a couple of kilometers from the bridge, with substantial chain link fencing across the full width of the road, a lookout turret, and armed guards at the gate.
On the other side of the gate, two small trucks were parked behind a hut, and Nick said, “We'll have one of them. Any suggestions for walking through things, Talgerit?"
"Be a Featherman,” Talgerit said, not very helpfully.
They walked up to the fence undetected, and that, more than the glassiness of the world, confirmed they really were invisible. Talgerit walked through the fencing, the dog trotting at his heels.
The fence was solid when Nick touched it, and Samuel didn't seem to doing any better, poking at it with fingertips and frowning.
Samuel took a deep breath, let it out, and closed his eyes and walked through the metal mesh, to join Talgerit, then gestured at Nick, triumphant grin on his face.
Nick closed his eyes to slits, made himself relax, and pushed through the fence as well. It was deeply weird, almost feeling the metal mesh inside himself, but he was intact and functioning, and they had a truck to steal.
The dog sniffed around the trucks, peeing on the tires, and Nick peered through the passenger window of the truck farthest away from the hut.
"Shift this one,” Nick whispered, pointing at the truck.
"A truck?” Talgerit asked. “A whole truck?"
"Not all of it,” Samuel whispered. “Just the visible bits."
Nick's brain refused to work out what that might mean, but it seemed to make sense to Talgerit, who nodded and let his shoulders drop as he concentrated.
The truck wavered, fading in and out of sight, then it was smooth and glossy, and not quite right to look at.
"Talgerit drives,” Samuel said, and Talgerit grinned. “You have to,” Samuel pointed out, “or the truck won't be able to pass through the check points."
"But...” Talgerit said, and Samuel shook his head and pushed Talgerit toward the driver's side door.
The three of them slid into the cab of the truck, the dog under their feet and in the way, and closed the doors quietly. Nick leaned across the cab and flicked the ignition of the diesel truck live, then switched on the pneumatic self-starter.
"Wait...” Nick said, watching the dashboard controls. “These things take time to warm up..."
The light flickered out, indicating the diesel engine had warmed up, and Nick said, “Out of here."
Talgerit slammed the truck into gear, did bad things to the clutch while swinging on the steering wheel, and lumbered the truck forward in a tight circle, swiping the truck against the chain link fencing.
Nick held his breath as the truck glided through the fencing soundlessly, and Talgerit wiped the sweat from his forehead, banged the truck up another couple of gears and hit the accelerator.
Samuel hung out of the open passenger window, looking backward, for a moment, then pulled his head back in. “Don't think they noticed,” Samuel said, winding the window up a bit to discourage the dog's attempts to hang out the open window.
"They will eventually,” Nick said. “How much fuel is in the tank?"
"Half a tank,” Talgerit said. “How far will that take us?"
"Depends if it's a long range tank,” Nick said. “Maybe as far as Albany. Just keep driving south, right through any checkpoints."
Talgerit changed gears again, building the truck's speed up. “Faster than walking."
Samuel opened the storage compartment in the dashboard, and pulled out meal replacement bars. “Snack?"
They slid through the first checkpoint, ten kilometers down the road, at a slow crawl, Talgerit's fingers locked around steering wheel and his eyes half-closed in concentration.
The truck's motor growled quietly, and they rolled undetected past the guards who were standing around, talking on radios or to each other.
"It's working,” Samuel whispered, something like awe in his voice. “It's really working."
Talgerit radiated smugness as the truck picked up speed again, on the other side of the checkpoint.
"If we can go to the Wagyl, and get the stone that holds time, we can do anything,” Talgerit said.
The next checkpoint, outside where the city used to end, was on full alert, with vehicles parked across the road and infantry patrolling both sides of the gates.
"Anything,” Talgerit repeated, slowing the truck to low gear roll, and trundling it through the blockade.
The next checkpoint, a hundred kilometers away from what was left of the city, wasn't even on alert, and Talgerit didn't bother slowing down.
They rolled into Albany in the afternoon, visible and substantial, rain beating against the windscreen and seeping around the door seals of the truck.
Samuel shifted the bag between his knees, and asked, “What happens now?"
"We go to the hospital. Marsia will feed us and provide us with showers and clothes,” Nick said. “I think I'd like a bath.” When he lifted his hand up to inspect it in the watery light, it was filthy.
"Food...” Talgerit said, in a reverential ton
e. “Good food?"
"Absolutely,” Nick said. “Roo and damper, if you want it."
Talgerit sighed happily, and the windscreen wipers swished in the rain.
"And tea,” Nick added. “Real tea."
"Then I guess I wait for a freighter heading in the right direction,” Samuel said.
"You shouldn't have to wait long; ships dock every couple of weeks,” Nick said. “Turn left here, Talgerit, past the school."
Talgerit parked the truck out the back of the hospital, in the staff car park, and Nick said, “Take it with you tomorrow, Talgerit. The military won't come looking for it on Noongar land."
"Not easily,” Talgerit said, letting the dog out of the truck, and pushing the dog off into the bush around the hospital.
A nurse stopped them at the entrance to the hospital, saying, “You can't come in, not in that condition."
Nick looked at Samuel, filthy with ragged clothes, then at himself, in even worse condition, and sniffed at his arm, and he had to agree.
"Could you let Marsia know that Nick, from Jerramungup, is here?” Nick asked.
The nurse nodded, then caught sight of Talgerit's feet and backed away in a hurry, before bolting down a corridor.
"Your feet are amazing,” Samuel told Talgerit, who nodded his agreement.
Marsia appeared, seconds later, running down the corridor toward them, the nurse trailing behind her. She skidded to a halt, in front of the three of them, and said, “I'd hug you, Nick, because I thought you were dead, but you smell like parts of you really have died and the rest of you hasn't realized yet."
"Hi, Marsia,” Nick said. “Remember Samuel, who you sent to convalesce with me? I brought him back. And this is Talgerit, a Featherman."
Marsia smiled at Samuel, and then spotted Talgerit's feet, and kind of froze in place.
Nick coughed, and Marsia managed to lift her gaze up to Talgerit's face, and say, “Welcome, Talgerit."
"We could do with a wash, some clean clothes, and food,” Nick said.
"Of course,” Marsia said. “They told me you were dead."
Nick grinned. “We just had to go somewhere, and it took a while."
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Chapter Fifteen
The water in the bathtub was hot enough that Samuel managed to wash himself thoroughly at least three times before it began to cool and he had to rinse off one final time and climb out.
The nurse had left a folded pile of worn blue clothes on the narrow bed for Samuel, so he dried himself quickly then pulled on what were obviously hospital work clothes. While he brushed his teeth, the mirror over the sink showed that his stubble had progressed to full beard, and shaving it off seemed less important than finding something substantial to eat.
Marsia, who Samuel almost remembered from when he'd first broken his leg, waved at Samuel from a doorway when he looked out into the hall.
"In here,” Marsia said.
Samuel hitched up his borrowed trousers and picked up the bag holding the sapphire, then made his way into a tiny office where dented folding chairs crowded around a battered stainless steel table, squeezed in beside an examination table and shelves of files and books.
"Food's on the way,” Marsia said. “Would you like tea or coffee?"
Coffee?
"Coffee?” Samuel asked. “Real coffee?"
Marsia reached into a box, under the table, and pulled out a tin, which she held out to Samuel, saying, “I think it's real."
Samuel prized the lid off the tin and sniffed cautiously, remembering the odd liquid that Nick and Josh drank on the farm.
The brown powder smelled like Samuel imagined coffee would if it was stale and over-processed, but it was still recognizably coffee, and he nodded his approval.
"This, please,” he said. “Do you have a radio I could use?"
"Shortwave?” Marsia asked, and Samuel nodded.
"Sure,” Marsia said. “The main office has a radio, and Albany has a working relay station, unless the weather is bad. I'll take you to the office when you've eaten."
Samuel let out a long breath, and watched Marsia spoon the coffee powder into a jug then pour hot water from a kettle over it. The electric light in the room glowed steadily, and a small heater hummed in the corner, blowing warm air around Samuel's ankles.
"Milk?” Marsia asked, opening a box wedged under the table that was actually an ancient refrigerator.
"No, thanks,” Samuel said. “You have cow's milk here?"
"Shh,” Marsia said. “Don't say that too loudly. I let people pay their accounts with milk sometimes. And coffee, obviously."
The mug of black liquid was hot and almost coffee, and Samuel slumped in his chair, cradling the mug in his hands and breathing in the condensation.
"How's your leg?” Marsia asked. “Healed?"
Samuel nodded. “It was still aching, in the cold, but that stopped after what happened..."
He trailed off, and Marsia looked at him expectantly.
"I have no idea how to explain it,” Samuel said.
"But it has something to do with Talgerit's feet?” Marsia asked.
"I think so,” Samuel said.
Marsia looked up, and Talgerit said, “What about my feet?” from the doorway.
"How are they?” Samuel asked, as Talgerit sat down, his hair and feathers still dripping water freely, soaking his borrowed clothes and the scuffed carpet.
Talgerit lifted one foot up and propped it on the table, and Marsia asked, “May I touch?"
"Does this have anything to do with dinner, unna?” Talgerit asked, sounding suspicious.
"Nothing,” Marsia said. “You can have dinner, and diesel for the truck, whether you let me examine your feathers, or not."
Talgerit grinned. “Oh, don't need diesel for the truck. The truck ran out of diesel long before we got to Albany. Haven't worked out how not to need dinner yet."
Samuel tried to think through an explanation for the truck running without fuel, and gave up because he was too hungry and tired, and Marsia lifted the finer feathers around Talgerit's ankle apart and peered at his skin.
"That's a big scar,” Marsia said, and both Samuel and Talgerit replied, “Marron."
"Right. Big marron, then,” Marsia said, ruffling through the feathers across the top of Talgerit's foot, then crouching down to peer underneath, at the sole.
"Here's your food,” Marsia said, straightening up and lifting Talgerit's foot off the table as a young man carried in a tray holding three covered plates, reminding Samuel that he'd been living on meal replacement bars and rabbit for some time.
"Is Nick still washing?” Samuel asked, lifting the cover off a plate and finding a slab of dark meat and a chunk of bread.
"That's mine,” Talgerit said, passing Samuel a plate of unrecognizable mess that still smelled ridiculously good.
Samuel handed Talgerit his meat and bread, and Marsia said, “Nick has gone to the harbor, to find out if any freighters are expected."
Samuel shoveled a forkful of vegetables he couldn't identify into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
Nick ambled in a few minutes later, passing a bunch of keys to Marsia and shrugging off an oversized jacket that dripped rain. He'd trimmed his hair and beard down to stubble, and he was several shades cleaner than the last time Samuel had seen him, pre-bath.
He didn't meet Samuel's gaze as he took the plate Samuel handed him, just nodded his thanks.
"There's a passenger freighter due soon,” Nick said, picking up his fork. “The harbor is in radio contact with it. We can probably arrange your passage on it, if someone in Guyana will guarantee payment when you arrive there."
"I'll get the university to contact the ship, when Marsia takes me to the radio,” Samuel said.
"What was your exposure like?” Marsia asked, and Nick shrugged.
"Edge of blast zone, so environmental shouldn't be too bad. We drank water and ate vermin, though,” Nick said. “I hate to think what
we're hosting at the moment."
Marsia made unhappy tutting noises and opened a box that held medication and took out containers of tablets.
"Potassium iodide,” she said. “Anti-nematode therapy. Please, none of you father any children for at least three months. Make it six months if you can. Samuel, when you get home, get someone to run a Geiger counter over you, check if you have actually been exposed to any significant levels of radiation."
"You don't have a Geiger or scintillation counter here?” Samuel asked.
Marsia shrugged. “Never have had. We just assume that people who have been near blast zones have been exposed, and give them potassium iodide. If they don't die of cancer twenty-five years later, it was unnecessary or it worked."
"If you want to be dismayed about equipment we don't have, worry about the lack of dosimeters for the X-ray tech here,” Nick said.
Samuel shook his head and went back to his dinner.
In the hallway, after dinner, Talgerit said to Nick, “I'm going home now. Do you want me to tell Josh you're not dead?"
Nick nodded. “Please, yes. Tell him I'll be home soon."
Talgerit turned to Samuel, and hugged him tightly for a moment.
"Thank you,” Samuel said, when Talgerit let go of him.
Talgerit grinned, the wide irrepressible smile that Samuel had become so used to, and strolled off down the hallway, borrowed blue trousers sliding down, his feathery feet sticking incongruously out the bottom of the baggy legs.
"Radio?” Marsia asked, switching off her office light and closing the door. “Samuel wanted to use the radio?"
Outside the main admin office for the hospital, after a brief exchange of radio messages with a disbelieving early morning radio operator at Guyana University, Samuel tired to grapple with the idea he was going home.
"I'll see you both in the morning,” Marsia said, waving as she headed toward the main part of the hospital. “Nick knows where breakfast is served."
"How long until the freighter arrives?” Samuel asked. “Do you know?"
"Tomorrow,” Nick said. “It will only be here long enough to restock with food and water, maybe a few hours."
In the hallway, before they reached the bedroom doors, Samuel took hold of Nick's elbow, stopping both of them from going any further.