‘Are you staying with us?’ asked a girl at the back of the group.
‘Yes,’ said Mrs Trang gently. ‘I will be staying with you.’
Chapter 11
FRIDAY, 1.55 P.M.
The sandwiches turned out to be corned beef and tomato, egg and lettuce, and ham and yellow mustard. The fruit cake was packaged stuff from the supermarket, dry and uninteresting, but there were home-made chocolate chip and peanut biscuits, too, the ones that Mrs Halloran contributed every time the CWA had a stall outside the newsagents on Saturday morning, and chocolate slice with coconut on top that looked home-made too.
Mike wondered if the chocolate slice had been made specially for them, if someone had heard there’d been a disaster at the school and immediately run in to the kitchen to start cooking, cooking, cooking, the only thing they knew to do to help.
There were fruit boxes, too, and cans of soft drink and bottles of spring water and someone had thought to add a box of tissues, which Mike reckoned would be useful if some of the girls started crying again.
He wished he could cry. He would, he thought, if he were by himself. But not with Budgie and Jordie and the others watching. Mike swallowed the lump in his throat. Yes, it would have been good to be able to cry.
It was impossible to eat with masks on. So everyone found a place where they wouldn’t breathe on someone else, and tried to force food down.
Mike sat where he could see a slice of daylight and concrete through the door. The world was normal out the door. Somewhere, cattle were sleeping in the thin shade of gum trees; somewhere even further off kids were doing schoolwork or gazing out the window, never dreaming of what was happening so far away in a school like this.
How long would it take for their worlds to go back to normal, Mike wondered suddenly. If Loser really had released some kind of biological warfare thing, what was to stop it from spreading all over town, and then to the next town, then to Sydney maybe, and then across the world?
Maybe the virus, or whatever Loser had in the test tube, was already blowing in the breeze outside. They were all crammed in here for nothing, and people outside would start getting sick …
Mike glanced at his sandwich and forced himself to take a bite. It was important to eat, Mrs Trang had said, though she didn’t say why. Mike supposed it was just one of the things adults said. Or perhaps when you were hungry you got light-headed, and when you got light-headed it was easy to get hysterical and that was the last thing they needed now.
‘It’s hard to eat, isn’t it?’ asked Jazz.
Mike started. He hadn’t noticed her walk over to him. He nodded, and wrapped the sandwich back in its plastic.
‘I’ll finish it later,’ he said.
‘It all seems crazy, doesn’t it,’ said Jazz, leaning back in her chair.
Mike nodded. ‘I keep thinking, out there everything is going on like it always does. Then I wonder, for how long … it just doesn’t seem right that things can be sort of normal, then bang, you’re in the middle of something like this.’
‘That’s what Mum said about Uganda,’ said Jazz slowly. ‘She was at school and everything was fine — well, as far as she knew anyway, she was just a little kid. Then suddenly people wanted to kill her because she was from the wrong tribe, her parents were from the wrong tribe. The knives came out all over the city,’ she said. ‘I never asked mum what she meant by that. I’ve never felt I could.’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve never told anyone else about mum saying that that,’ she admitted. ‘I used to have nightmares about it when I was small. All the knives and the darkness, and this little kid watching …’
Mike felt a warmth seep through him. He wanted to say something, something that would show he understood, that would show he wanted to know all the other things that had marked her life, had made her the Jazz that sat beside him. But all he could think to say was, ‘Yeah.’
‘Why do people kill each other!’ cried Jazz softly. ‘I just don’t understand! Don’t they realise that life is precious! People even watch other people being killed and they enjoy it!’
‘What …’ began Mike, visions of really weird behaviour in Manchester before him.
‘On TV!’ elaborated Jazz fiercely. ‘People watch people being shot and stuff on TV and they think it’s fun!’
‘But …’ began Mike. He wanted to say, ‘Only because it’s not real. It wouldn’t be fun if it was real.’ No one ever killed anyone for fun …
Or did they? Were there places in the world where people really did enjoy killing? Did Loser …
No, thought Mike vehemently. No! Whatever Loser had felt when he smashed the test tube, it hadn’t been pleasure. There’d been pain on his face, not enjoyment. Pain so great that all he could do was lash out because he couldn’t bear it any longer …
‘You know what I think?’ asked Jazz softly.
‘What?’
‘I think some people are makers and some people are destroyers. Some people create things or help other people, and others just take what they can. I think we have to choose which one we’ll be.’
‘What about my mum,’ said Mike, confused. ‘She doesn’t make things. She just sells stuff that other people make.’
‘But she helps them to do it when she sells it,’ said Jazz. ‘Your dad’s a farmer, isn’t he? He creates things.’
Mike was silent. Suddenly the thought of the lucerne slowly growing in the black soil out at the farm seemed the most peaceful thing in the world. And the bright yellow of the canola, sort of shouting its colour to the sky.
Mike wondered suddenly if Jazz had ever seen a paddock of canola in flower. When he was small, he’d always thought he would be a farmer, too. But now … well, sometimes it seemed like dad didn’t think he was his son any more since he’d moved into town with mum. You had to have a farm to be a farmer …
‘Okay!’ called Mrs Trang. ‘Which video do you want to watch first?’ She began to read out the titles.
‘Persuasion!’ yelled Sarah.
‘Nah, chick’s movie,’ objected Budgie.
‘It is not!’
‘Yes, it is. All they do is talk all the time.’
‘Titanic, The Phantom Menace …’
‘Seen it,’ called someone else.
‘We could see it again …’
Mike took no part in the discussion. He didn’t really care what movie they chose, as long as it kept them all absorbed, took their minds off reality just a little bit. He just wanted to be far away, somewhere he didn’t have to feel or think about this situation any more …
Jazz’s mobile rang. ‘For heaven’s sake, can’t you make it sing another tune?’ snapped Mike, before he thought about what he was saying.
Jazz looked at him in surprise as she pressed the button to answer it. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I’ll change it to “Happy Birthday”, if you like. I think it does the “William Tell Overture” too … Yes, Mum?’
The hall grew silent as she listened. ‘Sure, Mum. Yes, I’ll tell them. What! What do you mean they can’t … but that’s impossible! I mean, it’s really lunatic. Yes, I know. Yes, I know it’s not your fault. Yes. Love you. Bye.’
‘What is it?’ asked Mike urgently.
‘There isn’t anyone out at Tenterfield.’
‘They must have gone back to Japan or Korea or whatever,’ said Mike. ‘Did they find any lab stuff when they searched the place?’
‘They didn’t search the place,’ said Jazz grimly.
‘But … but why not?’
‘Because they didn’t have a search warrant.’
‘But this is an emergency …’
‘But it’s not officially an emergency yet. It won’t officially be an emergency till the State people declare it one. The local people here can’t seem to do that.’
‘But that could take hours!’ protested Budgie.
Jazz shrugged. ‘Don’t blame me. I’m just the messenger. That’s what mum told me, too. Not to blame her …’
‘Did
she say anything else?’ demanded Mike.
‘What? Oh, yes. The SES have rounded up some mobile phones for us. They asked everyone they knew who wasn’t part of the operation or … or related to us if we could borrow their phones. Mr Morelli at the newsagents lent them his and the people at the cafe too and they made an announcement to the Senior Citizens. Some of the old people have mobile phones in case they fall down or something. They all agreed to lend them — there’s one for each of us. The SES have asked our parents to stay at home, so we can call them.’
‘That’s kind,’ said Mrs Trang softly. ‘People in this town can be so kind.’
‘She says we can talk as long as we like, and they’ll reimburse people, somehow, for the bill. They’re sending the battery chargers in too, but we’ll have to take turns at the power points. She suggested we all ring our parents first, just so they know we’re okay. Then if we want to ring friends or anyone we can.’
‘Who will you ring first, Mrs Trang?’ asked Mike, without thinking.
‘No one, I think,’ said Mrs Trang in her quiet voice. ‘My husband and my daughters died on the trip out here. I have no one I …’ She shook her head. ‘It is best I think perhaps if I keep my phone free, in case the other phones are tied up, in case someone needs to contact us urgently.’
Mike stared at her. He’d known in the back of his mind that Mrs Trang had come from Vietnam. That was why she still had an accent. But it had never occurred to him that she’d been a refugee, that perhaps she’d known horror before this.
Surely she’s had her share of terror already, he thought. But she still volunteered to stay with us.
‘Perhaps I will ring some friends tonight,’ added Mrs Trang, smiling at him earnestly behind her mask.
‘Do you think we’ll still be here tonight?’ he asked.
‘Perhaps,’ said Mrs Trang honestly. ‘Yes, Michael. I think perhaps we will be.’
Chapter 12
FRIDAY 2.10 P.M.
‘Oh, Mike, do take care.’
Mike sighed. It was the tenth time at least that his mum had said that. ‘Mum, I’m taking as much care as I can. It’s not like I’m swimming with crocodiles or something. I’m just sitting here.’
‘What else are you doing?’
‘Watching a video. Sort of, anyway.’
‘Which one?’
‘Titanic. Does it matter?’
‘No. I … I’m just talking for the sake of talking, I suppose. You’ll call me at once if … if anything happens?’
‘Yes, Mum,’ said Mike. ‘I promise I’ll call you.’
He mentally crossed his fingers as he said it. If anything did happen, if another one of them got sick, he didn’t think the first thing he’d be doing was ringing his mum.
‘I love you, Michael.’
Michael glanced around, but everyone was speaking into his or her phones too. No one seemed to be listening to him. ‘I love you too, Mum,’ he said quietly. ‘See you soon. Don’t stress. There’s nothing to stress about. Really.’
‘Nothing to stress about!’ his mum’s voice choked with what was almost laughter. ‘Oh, Mike …’
‘Love you, Mum,’ said Mike again, and pressed the ‘Off’ button.
He leant against the wall and shut his eyes.
Chapter 13
FRIDAY, 2.27 P.M.
‘Jazz?’
‘Mmmmm?’ Jazz turned away from the window she’d been peering out of and looked down at him.
He was getting used to her wearing a mask, Mike realised. It was funny how fast you got used to the unthinkable. ‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘For snapping about the phone like that.’
‘What? Oh, that’s okay. No worries,’ Jazz added in what Mike supposed she thought was an Australian accent. She stepped off the chair and sat down on it instead. Mike sat down next to her.
‘I keep thinking about Loser,’ he admitted. ‘It’s funny that in spite of everything I still hope he’s alright. I couldn’t say that to Budgie and the others though. They’d think I was crazy.’
‘I don’t think it’s crazy,’ said Jazz slowly. ‘Lance has to be sick, that’s all. There’s no other reason for him to have done this.’
‘You mean mentally sick? Insane?’
‘Not insane. But mentally sick, yeah.’
Mike shook his head. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Loser knew what he was doing. Do you think everyone who does bad things just does it because they’re sick in the head?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know,’ admitted Jazz. ‘Something as bad as this though … being sick’s the only answer that makes sense.’
‘I think some people are just born bad,’ said Mike.
‘You mean Lance has been bad all his life?’
Mike thought about it. Loser was just … well, a loser. He’d never really done anything evil before. Even when they were just little kids, playing in the creek behind their houses, Loser had been okay.
‘You know something,’ said Jazz softly. ‘I don’t think Lance even knew what he was doing was real. I think he was all caught up in a movie in his head. None of us were real to him, just like the spear carriers in a movie aren’t real. Okay, so they fall down dead. But we all know they’re actors, and when the movie’s over they get up again. You don’t cry for spear carriers.’
‘So we’re the spear carriers now?’ asked Mike.
‘I suppose.’ Jazz blew out her breath in a long sigh, sending her mask billowing outwards. ‘I just wish something would happen, even though I’m scared of what it might be. I hate waiting,’ she admitted. ‘I even hate waiting at the dentist. I want to get it over with.’
‘Me too,’ said Mike.
‘I was trying to imagine myself somewhere far away from here. It didn’t work though.’
‘Back in England?’
Jazz looked surprised. ‘No. Down by the river actually. You know, I’d never seen a river like that before I came here.’
‘It’s pretty small,’ said Mike.
‘But it goes such a long way. Right down to the Murray eventually, then down past Adelaide and out to sea. It looks like it knows it’s on a long journey, you know what I mean?’
‘Sort of,’ said Mike.
‘It’s really cool,’ said Jazz dreamily. ‘Sort of slow, with all those deep pools and the sand just lying there in great big waves, and you don’t have to worry about pollution or anything.’
‘Dad’s property’s on the river,’ said Mike. ‘There’s a spot where we go fishing sometimes.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘It’s this great bend. There’s a big rocky cliff on the other side, and sandy banks where we fish. The river’s really deep there.’
‘Do you catch anything?’
‘Sure. Yellow belly and Murray cod if you’re really lucky. I caught one at nearly four kilos last year.’
‘Did you eat it?’
‘Sure. Well, most of it. I brought it home for mum, and she gave some of it to the Kennedy’s next door. It was too much for the two of us.’
‘I’ve never tasted Murray cod,’ said Jazz. ‘Have you rung your dad yet?
Mike blinked. ‘Dad? I didn’t think … I mean, no, I haven’t. He wouldn’t be near a phone till knock-off time anyway. He probably hasn’t even heard of any of all this yet.’
‘He will soon though,’ said Jazz. ‘I bet it’ll be on the news and everything.’
‘Yeah, I suppose,’ said Mike slowly. ‘I didn’t think of that.’
‘You don’t see him much?’
‘Not much. I don’t think … I mean, he never seems all that eager to see me.’
Jazz made a face. ‘Men!’ she said.
‘What do you mean?”
‘I bet you don’t seem very keen to see him either, so he thinks you’re not keen and you think he’s not keen.’
‘It’s not like that … well, maybe. Women act like that, too.’
‘No, we don’t,’ said Jazz. ‘We scream at each othe
r. We don’t hide away.’
‘I’m not hiding … look, I’ll ring him later, alright? I bet Mum’s already tried to get through to him.’
Jazz grinned. She looked strange behind the mask, thought Mike, but it was definitely a grin.
‘Boy, you’re bossy,’ he said.
Jazz grinned even wider. ‘So are you,’ she pointed out.
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ Mike felt a grin tugging at his lips too.
‘Mike?’
‘Yeah?’
‘If … if all this ends well, what do you think you’ll be doing in ten years time?’
‘In ten years? I don’t know,’ said Mike slowly. The image of paddocks of flowering canola rose in his mind, but he dampened it down.
‘Where will you be? Will you still be here?’
‘I suppose. To be honest I don’t know what I want to do after school. Uni, I suppose. That’s what Mum expects me to do anyway. I just don’t know. How about you?’
‘I want to study medicine,’ said Jazz.
‘Like your mum?’
‘Well, yeah, but not because she’s a doctor. I just like the idea of it.’
Of course, thought Mike. Jazz would have to be a giver, not a taker. ‘It’s hard to get into,’ he said.
‘I know,’ Jazz hesitated. ‘I’ll make it,’ she said. ‘Does that sound really full of myself?’
It did, a bit, but Mike said, ‘No.’
Jazz grinned again. ‘You know …’ she began.
‘Mrs Trang!’ cried Sarah. ‘Quick! It’s Emma! Quick!’
Chapter 14
FRIDAY 3.00 P.M.
Someone yelled something outside, one of the SES volunteers perhaps, too far away to make it out. It sounded like an instruction or something, thought Mike, with a small part of his brain. The rest of his mind focused on Emma, lying on the floor of the hall, with Sarah kneeling beside her.
Mrs Trang hurried over. ‘Jazz, get on the phone to your mother,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Sarah, how is she?’
‘She says her tummy hurts,’ said Sarah anxiously. ‘And she feels hot and she’s got a headache.’
Jazz pressed the buttons on her phone and spoke into it briefly while her other hand rummaged for the pen and notebook in her pocket. Mrs Trang knelt beside Emma and took her hand. ‘All of you are to move well away, right down the other end of the hall. You too, Sarah.’
Dark Wind Blowing Page 5