Dark Wind Blowing

by Jackie French

  How could it have come to this, he thought desperately. It shouldn’t be like this! It shouldn’t be like this at all …

  ‘Get back,’ he choked out to the others. ‘Everyone get back.’

  ‘I’m going to ring the front office,’ said Jazz. ‘Maybe the ambulance is still here.’ She fumbled for her phone and began to dial. ‘Could you connect me to Elbow Creek Central School front office please? Yes, it’s in Elbow Creek. What? No, it’s near Gunyabah. Look, it’s really urgent …’ Then, ‘Miss Clancy? It’s Jasmine Fallerton in the hall. Caitlin’s … Caitlin’s sick. It’s like Mr Simpson. Yes. Yes. Please hurry. Oh, please hurry …’

  Caitlin began to scream again.

  Chapter 9

  FRIDAY 1.10 P.M.

  ‘I’ll kill him,’ said Budgie. ‘I’ll really kill him. You just watch me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jordie. ‘But not straight away. We’ll …’ he hesitated as he tried to think of something suitably horrible to do to Loser, then caught Jazz’s eye. His voice trailed off.

  ‘Lance was holding the test tube when it broke,’ said Jazz quietly. ‘He was right next to it, even closer than Mr Simpson. He must have breathed some of it in. Maybe no one will have to kill him at all …’

  No one said anything. Suddenly Emma gave a high shrill hiccup and buried her head in her hands. ‘We’re going to die,’ she whispered. ‘We’re all going to die!’

  ‘Shut up!’ said Mike fiercely. ‘No one’s going to die! They’ve taken Caitlin and Mr Simpson to hospital haven’t they? And they’re not dead yet!’

  ‘But they might die!’

  ‘They’re not going to!’ repeated Mike. Sarah put her arms round Emma. Emma gave a small choked sob and shuddered against her shoulder.

  They had all crowded at the other end of the hall as the ambulance men in masks and white boiler suits slid Caitlin onto a stretcher, and carried her out.

  ‘You’ll be right, kids,’ one of the men had said reassuringly. But his eyes above his mask were worried.

  Jazz’s phone rang. She pulled it out and pressed the button. ‘Hello? It’s Mum,’ she whispered, then held it close to her ear again. ‘Yes, we’re okay. No, no one’s hysterical.’ She put her hand over the mouthpiece again. ‘Mum thinks we’re all really brave,’ she reported. Mike grimaced. None of them were really brave, he thought. But they were all friends. Even those who didn’t really like each other were friends, in a way. You had to be in a small town, or else you became an outcast, like Loser … Mike thrust the thought away.

  People in the city could wait for other people to help them. But in the country you need your friends. If there was a fire or a storm or a flood you all pitched in. He wondered how a group of strangers would have coped, all cooped up together in a situation like this.

  Mike bit his lip. Had any other group of kids anywhere in the world ever been in a situation like this?

  ‘Did you get hold of Dad?’ asked Jazz into her mobile. ‘Yeah, I know it takes ages to get back here, I just wondered … no. Yes.’ She held the mobile away from her ear again: ‘Hey, has anyone got a pen and paper? I need to write this down.’

  Mike rummaged in his bag and handed her his history notebook and a biro.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jazz. She balanced the notebook on her knee and began to write. ‘Okay, Mum, go on. Right. Right. Yeah, I’ve got that too. Yes. Love you too, Mum. Bye.’

  Jazz put the phone back in her pocket. ‘Mum says she’s organised fresh clothes for us. That’s in case any of the powder got on our clothes. She’s got surgical masks for us too. Someone is going to push them through the door on a trolley in a few minutes.’

  She consulted the notebook, and looked up at the group again. ‘Mum said we’re to go into the toilets, one by one, and take off all our clothes and put them in the plastic bags they’re sending too,’ she reported. ‘Then we’re to wash all our exposed skin with soap and wash our hair as well. We’re not to take the new clothes out of the bags until we’ve dried ourselves and we have to seal the bag of old clothes up before the next person comes in. Is everybody clear?’

  There were nods around the room. ‘Mum said …’ Jazz drew a deep breath. ‘Mum said we’re not to share any food or drink either. Just in case. Any questions?’

  ‘Are they sending shampoo too?’ asked Sarah.

  Jazz shrugged. ‘Don’t know,’ she said.

  ‘I hate him.’ Emma’s voice was low and hard. ‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. How could he do this to us!’

  The words echoed around the half-empty hall. No one answered.

  ‘Hey, how about we all just get undressed here?’ said Budgie helpfully. ‘It’d save time.’ He leered half-heartedly at Emma.

  Mike tried to grin. Budgie was just trying to lighten things up.

  ‘In your dreams, Budgie Williams,’ said Emma, wiping her eyes with a shaggy tissue. ‘Who goes first?’

  Mike swallowed. ‘Those who were closest to Caitlin,’ he suggested. ‘Sarah, you’d better go first.’

  ‘So had you,’ said Jazz quietly. ‘You were holding Mr Simpson’s hand.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mike.

  ‘Coming through now, kids!’ yelled a voice outside. The doors opened as the trolley slowly rumbled through.

  Chapter 10

  FRIDAY 1.25 P.M.

  It wasn’t easy washing in a handbasin, but at least Jazz’s mother had remembered to put in towels. Mike pulled on the clean shirt, then tried to work out how to tie the mask. It felt ridiculous, he thought, glancing in the mirror. Yep, it looked ridiculous too.

  He waited for someone to laugh as he came out of the toilet, but no one did.

  ‘Your turn,’ he said to Budgie.

  Budgie was only gone five minutes. Mike wondered how thorough he’d been. But at least he wore his mask. Then Jordie, Darryn, Sam. On their side of the hall the girls were coming out one by one, clean and masked too, their wet hair straggling around their necks or tied up in dark, damp ponytails.

  The phone rang again, diddly diddly ding ding ding. Mike watched Jazz answer it. He wondered if she could change the ring. The tone was beginning to get on his nerves.

  She’d changed into jeans and a T-shirt in the toilet, and her long black hair was pulled back with some pink fluffy thing. The mask looked very white against her skin.

  Budgie plonked himself down next to Mike. ‘You know, it’s funny,’ he said. His voice was slightly muffled through the mask.

  ‘What?’

  ‘All this. I mean, if you saw it all in a movie or something it’d be exciting. But it’s not. It’s boring. I mean, we’re all scared but it’s boring, too.’

  Jazz pushed the button to end the phone call and sat down beside them. ‘You mean killing’s a thrill on TV but not in real life?’ she said with a touch of savagery. ‘Boys! All you ever like is shoot ’em ups and car chases. You never give a thought to the poor old spear carriers.’

  ‘The what?’ asked Mike

  ‘Spear carriers. You know, those people in the movies who just hold a spear as the emperor walks past, then get stabbed when the hero escapes.’ She snorted. ‘Boys only seem to like the sort of movies where half the onlookers get killed. You know, by the time the hero finally catches the bad guy fifty people who just happen to be passing by have been shot or squashed in the car chase or … or you know what I mean.’

  ‘Hey, we’re not all like that,’ protested Mike.

  ‘Oh yeah? What was the movie you planned on seeing tomorrow?’

  Mike was silent.

  ‘Well, now we’re in the movie, and it isn’t exciting at all,’ said Jazz.

  Mike wondered if other girls thought like that, but didn’t have the guts to ask. That was one of the things he liked about Jazz. She was interesting. ‘What did your mum say?’ he asked, to change the subject.

  ‘Not much. Dad’s on his way back here with Year Five, and she can’t reach him. Caitlin’s still … still alive, and so’s Mr Simpson. They gave them oxygen in
the ambulances. Mum asked …’ Jazz took a deep breath. ‘Mum asked if I’d like her to be with us in here, or do what she can to help outside.’

  ‘What did you tell her?’ asked Mike.

  ‘I said help organise outside.’

  ‘I thought she wasn’t allowed to do anything?’

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters at a time like this,’ said Jazz.

  ‘Hey, look at this!’ Mike looked up. Jordie was standing on a chair, peering out one of the high windows. Budgie leapt up to join him.

  ‘Look!’ said Jordie. ‘There’s all these SES people in orange uniforms down the road. There’s a barricade too.’

  ‘I suppose that’s to stop anyone coming near us,’ said Mike. He supposed Mum knew all about it by now. She must have if she’d sent his clothes. She’d be frantic …

  ‘Do you want to ring your mum?’ asked Jazz, as though she’d read his mind.

  Mike shook his head. ‘Maybe later. Like you said, we need to save the batteries.’ He leant back against the wall. ‘I wonder what Loser’s doing. If he’s okay? He must have breathed in that stuff too. Do you think they’re looking for him?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jazz. ‘If … if it is infectious, he could be spreading it all over the place. I’ll ask mum next time she calls. I suppose the police have sent someone out to that place too. What’s its name?’

  ‘Tenterfield. There’s only Constable Fielder and Senior Constable Svenic, and Constable Fielder’s on leave. He’s taken his family up to Surfer’s for a fortnight.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘His wife works for mum on the weekends. But I’d probably know anyway. Most people know most things about everyone in a town like this. You’ll find out.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Jazz leant back next to him. ‘You know, I didn’t think I’d like it here. But I do. It’s funny though. Back home I was a black kid, but here I’m lighter than most of you. I mean, Fizzer and Jordie are Kooris and they treat me like I’m white. It feels sort of odd.’

  ‘Where do you come from in England?’

  ‘Manchester.’

  ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Dirty. Noisy. Lots more happening there than here, but mum and dad mostly won’t let me do it if it means being out by myself at night. I don’t know … you can stretch out here. Breathe. I know it sounds silly.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ said Mike.

  ‘What do your parents do?’

  ‘Dad’s got a farm out of town. I don’t see him much. They split up when I was just a kid. Mum’s got the gallery in town.’

  ‘I know it. Dad said he wondered how a gallery makes a living in a town this small.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘The gallery’s just a sideline. Mum mostly works on the Internet. She imports stuff and sells it to other galleries around Australia and sometimes she acts as an agent for artists and craftspeople and sells their stuff for them too. She does okay.’

  ‘You the only child?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Me too. It makes you want to scream sometimes, doesn’t it? All that attention focused just on you.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Mike slowly. He’d never thought of it that way.

  ‘Sometimes I wish my mum and dad had had ten kids. But other times …’ she shrugged. ‘It’s not bad being spoilt.’

  Budgie plonked down next to them again. ‘What the hell are the police doing?’ he complained. ‘They must’ve caught Loser by now.’

  ‘Even if they have that won’t help us,’ Mike pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, but it’d make me feel better if I thought he was getting what’s coming to him.’ Budgie stood up again and kicked the chair. ‘It’s all this waiting! If only they gave us something to do!’ He mooched off again.

  Mike and Jazz watched him go. ‘Do you want me to ring mum again and see if there’s any news?’ asked Jazz.

  ‘You said we had to save the batteries,’ said Mike.

  ‘They can give us a charger. Or another phone,’ said Jazz. She began to press the buttons. ‘Mum? It’s me. No, I’m fine. Really and truly. No, I promise, I’ll call you at once if … Really, we’re fine at the moment … Look, I just wanted to know if they’d found Lance yet?’

  She paused as she listened. Mike looked round the room. A bunch of girls were whispering in the corner; most of them had been crying, their faces still held the traces of tears.

  The boys were scattered around the hall in twos and threes, some in masks, some still waiting their turn. None of them seemed to be saying much.

  ‘But that’s crazy …’ said Jazz into the mobile. ‘Can’t they … yeah, I suppose. No, I told you, everyone’s okay for now. Just bored. There’s nothing to do here. Yes, alright, we’re scared but we’re handling it. Yes, I love you too. Mum, don’t go on like that, it’s embarrassing. Yes. Yes. Talk to you later.’ She pushed a button to end the phone call.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Mike.

  ‘They can’t find Lance.’

  ‘He didn’t go home?’

  ‘No. And Mr Loosley’s furious. He says it’s impossible that Lance ever took a test tube. He says someone must have planted it on him to make him look guilty. He says …’

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ interrupted Mike.

  ‘I know. He says Lance was never out of his sight at Tenterfield and that they didn’t go anywhere in the house except into the kitchen.’

  ‘I bet,’ muttered Mike.

  ‘And he’s threatening to sue the police and the school and everyone for defamation and child abuse and wants every other kid in the class arrested for hassling his son and … and I don’t know what else.’

  ‘Crazy,’ said Mike again.

  ‘But he doesn’t know where Lance is. No one does. He just seems to have disappeared.’

  Mike tried to think where Loser might have gone. Down the creek behind the house? But they’d have looked there for certain. The rotunda in the park? The milkbar?

  Surely they’d have searched all those places. What if he’d collapsed somewhere and … Mike tried to push the thought away. ‘Did anyone go out to Tenterfield?’ he asked.

  ‘They haven’t had time yet. Mum said that Constable Svenic thinks he ought to stay here, so he rang Gunyabah and they’re sending someone out.’

  ‘But that’ll take ages!’ Mike protested.

  ‘Mum said they’ll radio in as soon as they get there.’

  ‘Yeah, great. Meanwhile we’re stuck here waiting for …’

  Suddenly the hall doors were flung open. Another trolley slowly emerged through them, followed by the dumpy figure of Mrs Trang in the blue dress with red piping that she wore every Friday in summer, and probably had for the last hundred years, thought Mike. But this time she wore a white mask over the lower part of her face as well. ‘Would one of you boys please give me a hand!’ she called in her quiet, precise accent.

  Mike scrambled to his feet. ‘Mrs Trang, won’t you be infected if you come in here?’

  ‘No, I am sure I won’t,’ said Mrs Trang, just a bit too reassuringly. ‘I am sure there’s no danger at all. It is probably just a form of food poisoning.’

  Then why are you wearing a mask, thought Mike. But he didn’t say anything.

  ‘Has someone else in town fallen sick then?’ demanded Jazz.

  ‘No. No, they haven’t.’ Mrs Trang brushed her grey hair back nervously. ‘But I am sure …’ Her voice trailed off behind the mask. ‘I would like some help, please,’ she said more briskly. ‘We need to unload this.’

  Mike pulled off the cover.

  ‘A TV!’ exclaimed Budgie.

  ‘It’s a video,’ corrected Mrs Trang.

  ‘Cool. Hey, what movies did you bring?’ Budgie demanded suspiciously. ‘Not Walt Disney stuff or anything?’

  Mrs Trang smiled. You couldn’t see her mouth but you knew it was a smile, thought Mike, because of the way her eyes wrinkled up. ‘No,’ she said. ‘One of the Year twelve boys picked the videos for me.’

  ‘Grea
t,’ muttered Jazz in Mike’s ear. ‘It’ll be all …’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ whispered Mike. ‘Car chases and shoot ’em ups.’

  ‘Mrs Trang?’ said one of the girls.

  ‘Yes?’ said Mrs Trang.

  ‘Are they going to send some doctors or something for us? So we won’t get sick?’

  Mrs Trang hesitated. ‘Well, it’s all taking longer than we thought,’ she admitted. ‘Constable Svenic was called out to a property outside the town early this morning. It took a good deal of time for the emergency people to contact him. Then he had to contact the Council, and the Council had to contact the State Emergency Service, though Mrs Allen tells me that half of them were here already, as they had already heard about it from someone else.’

  Mrs Trang sighed. ‘It all took a great deal of time,’ she said. ‘Constable Svenic finally contacted the HAZMAT unit at Warilla in Wollongong about an hour ago, that’s the hazardous materials unit …’

  ‘Wollongong!’ exclaimed Mike. ‘But that’s thousands of kilometres away!’

  ‘They should have sent out a unit from the nearest regional centre to us,’ continued Mrs Trang, ‘but they thought Constable Svenic said Gunnedah not Gunyabah … and, well, no one is here yet.’

  ‘So they haven’t even tested the stuff in the test tube yet?’ said Jazz slowly.

  ‘No. Constable Svenic is trying to arrange a flight to get it to the Analytic Laboratory at Epping in Sydney. But even when it gets there it will take them at least twenty-four hours to give us a result,’ said Mrs Trang shortly.

  ‘But that’s crazy!’ began Jazz

  ‘I know,’ said Mrs Trang. ‘But there is nothing any of us can do except wait and hope the authorities manage to get organised before …’ Her lips closed with an almost audible snap. ‘Now can one of you please set up the video? There are some drinks and sandwiches here as well, and some fruitcake and, well, many other things, I think, in those containers. The CWA has set up an emergency canteen just past the barricades.’

  ‘At least they’ve got their act together,’ muttered Mike.