They drove the narrow dirt roads. No one spoke except their guide and then only to give terse directions. ‘Left in twenty.’ ‘Watch the ditch.’ He wound the window down and rested his arm on the sill. The dirt track was not more than a car and a half wide, and Sean tried to hug the side, jockeying the wheels along the seam of compacted dirt and weeds. A ute approached from ahead at speed. It sat solidly in the middle of the road and swerved only as it reached them. Their passenger raised the fingers of his hand a millimetre and the hand in the ute did the same.
After half an hour or so, the man leant forward almost congenially. ‘Just pull over at the next gate, that’s me.’ He jumped out of the car. ‘Go straight for a click, turn left at the T, and that takes you back to the main road. You can’t miss it.’
‘Thanks.’ Sean called to his back and the man gave the same curt wave.
Hannah watched as he became nothing more than a detail in the pastoral scene reflected in her side mirror. They weren’t sick, she knew that, he wasn’t walking off to wipe out a whole country town.
As they approached the promised T intersection, Sean slowed to a crawl and scanned the road in both directions.
‘What are you looking for?’ She tried to follow his eye-line.
‘Even if we meet one now, we must be beyond the barrier, who’s to say we weren’t always here?’ He looked at her as if she knew what he meant. ‘We should get petrol.’
Hannah gave a resigned shrug, she wasn’t going carry the load of this decision.
‘Come on, you were happy enough to have the guy in the back. We need petrol.’
‘Not happy.’
‘Well, he was in the back and there’ll be a station on the outskirts of town.’ No answer. ‘We can’t make it to Canberra and back on what’s in the tank. That’s not me being difficult, it’s reality. This is probably the safest place to get it. So which way am I going? Town or freeway?’
She glanced at the petrol gauge. Not enough to get home from here, certainly not enough to get to Canberra and back. It was a long way from anywhere, off the trucking route, there were no reported cases this far west and they were probably the only non-locals to pass through in weeks. If they had to... and they had to. ‘Use gloves on the pump and hand wash when you’re done. You pay with cash. And don’t take any change.’
‘If I use gloves, why do I need hand wash?’
‘That’s the deal.’
Sean took the turn back towards the town and half a kilometre on, they found it. It had been built for the main road this had once been and in its new circumstances was oversized and sun faded. Part of the hardstand had been reused for a ‘fresh produce’ stand so long ago that it was empty and broken. They pulled into the wide, potholed drive, built for the trucks and buses that now took the freeway. They were the only car. Hannah looked through her wallet while Sean worked the pump. ‘You can put in fifty dollars’ worth, after that we’d have to go up by twenty.’ Hannah watched the counter turning over by cents as Sean squeezed and released to get to exactly fifty.
The rest of the trip was easy, fast, uncongested. On this side of the roadblock, all the cars were from the ACT. Theirs were the only yellow plates and they stood out like flashing signs of guilt. Hannah was afraid they would be stopped for that alone.
Oscar grizzled from the back. ‘I’m hungry. My legs hurt.’ ‘We’re nearly there.’ And it was enough truth to postpone the whinging. There was no need to tell him that when they got there they’d be turning around and doing it all again.
As they drove past the ‘Welcome to the ACT’ sign, she felt like they had made it. Each remaining step seemed trivial, a process that had to be gone through. There was nothing standing in the way but the doing of it. She ratted through her bag for her phone, the next step. It rang out to voicemail. Damn it.
‘Zac, we’re nearly there. Get your things and come out the front. Ring me back to let me know you got this message.’
Hannah watched the phone for subtle signs of Zac that it couldn’t possibly convey. She held it until they pulled up across the road from the school gym. It looked just like any school day—behind the gym, the schoolyard was filled with kids, some of them playing soccer, some standing around in groups. Along the footpath in front, people walked, like they would on any day, so close she could touch them if she wound down the window. So strangely normal that it felt wrong. She pressed redial. ‘Zac, why do you have a phone if you don’t answer it? Get out here, we’re waiting outside.’ She hung up and stared at the phone again.
Sean started to open the door. ‘I guess I’ll have to go over.’
‘Give it a minute.’
‘A minute won’t make any difference.’ Sean shook the wheel with exasperation. ‘He can’t hear his phone.’
‘It took us five hours to get here. Five more minutes won’t hurt.’
‘Five minutes won’t make any difference either.’ He pushed the car door all the way, and she put her hand on his arm, a gentle restraint.
‘You’re not going like that.’ She held a pair of gloves out to him.
‘Look at all these people.’ He pointed to the pedestrians, the soccer players. ‘Not a glove, not a mask between them. That’s how normal people behave.’
‘Not a chance. If they want to take a risk...’
‘They’re not taking a risk, there is no risk. There’s no panic because there is nothing to panic about. No disease here.’
‘Gloves and mask or you don’t go out.’
‘This is absurd.’
‘Humour me.’
‘When there is a reason, I accept it. But I refuse to give in to irrationality.’ He got one leg out of the car but she gripped his arm tighter.
‘Let me try one more time.’ She let it ring until it went to voicemail. And again. And again.
‘If he was going to answer, he would have.’ Sean pushed the door open again. ‘Give me the damned gloves.’ Hannah’s phone rang.
‘Yes. Zac.’
‘Hi Mum. There are a bunch of missed calls on my phone.’
‘I’ve been ringing and ringing.’
‘It was still under my pillow and we were playing this board game. Then someone said they heard something. And then we heard it again but we couldn’t work out where it was.’
‘We’re here, out the front. Get your things together and meet us out here. You can tell me the rest then.’
She watched the digits change on the dashboard clock. Ten minutes at most and then she would... and then she would... not get out of the car and get him.
The double front doors of the gym bulged out. The left fell back, the right swung open and for a moment they saw Zac’s outline in the doorway, before the door swung closed.
‘Where’s Zac?’ Oscar’s light voice spoke for all of them.
Sean pushed his door open and swung his leg onto the bitumen. Hannah squeezed his arm but he pulled away. ‘I can’t open the boot for his stuff from here.’ He took the gloves, slipped them over his hands but tossed the mask back to her.
Both doors opened together this time. Zac came out of the right and another boy from the left. Behind them, slightly taller, was their teacher, Mr Abrahamson. He had always looked young to Hannah but today that was overwritten with tiredness around his eyes and a certain air of responsibility. Mr Abrahamson stopped on the far side of the road, his arm out in front of the two boys, keeping them in place. A couple walking down the street hesitated, looked to Sean and back to the boys, then chose to make a wide arc around the group.
‘Mr Halloran, Zac’s got all his things and he’s ready to go.’ Mr Abrahamson looked at Zac with genuine affection. ‘He’s been great. A real help with some of the other kids. I’ve told him how impressed I’ve been with his behaviour.’
‘That’s good to hear.’ The two men perched, leaning forward on opposite kerbs. They looked courtly and ludicrous, as if observing some arcane etiquette.
‘If you want to leave him, the school here has offered to look aft
er us. They’re going to try to find billets for the kids today.’
‘We’re here, we’ll take him back.’
‘Mr Halloran, I’m thinking about the kids. It’s very safe here. I think maybe you should consider your options before Zac comes across the road. Do you have someone you can stay with in Canberra? I’ve made arrangements for the children that I think are in their best interest and we don’t know what’s going to happen back in Sydney. You could try to get into a hotel if you don’t know anyone, but better not say you came from Sydney.’
Hannah put her head out the window. ‘We’re taking Zac home.’
She could see how earnestly he believed what he was saying. He seemed to give her statement more consideration than it deserved. ‘Even if you can’t stay here, you should still consider leaving Zac. Sydney isn’t the best option for him now. And you might not have a choice. The story is they’re closing the highway. But once he’s crossed the road, he’s in your care. If you can’t find anywhere to stay, I can’t ask any of the families here to take him in.’
‘From Sydney.’ Sean said firmly. ‘It’s closed from Sydney. Unless you’ve heard of someone being turned back.’
Mr Abrahamson shifted on his feet. ‘One of the kids left here with their parents a couple of hours ago. They haven’t come back.’
‘So we’re going home and we’re taking him.’ Sean spoke with firmness.
‘Dad, can we take Daniel? His folks aren’t coming.’
‘How do you know they’re not?’
‘He rang them this morning, he wants to go home but they said they couldn’t get here. He thinks his mum is sick and they don’t want him to be in the house. We have to take Daniel.’
‘I guess...’
Hannah cut Sean off. ‘We’ll talk about it, Zac.’
‘When, Mum? His mum will get better but if you leave him here, he’s stuck. You came all this way for me, how do you think his folks feel? When are you going to talk about it? In the car when we’re halfway to Sydney? Yeah, right. We’re going now, so you have to tell me now.’
Daniel’s mum had been so eager to come on Friday and had sounded fine. Hannah tried to read Daniel’s face. He was staring at the ground, his eyes turned away from them, although there was nothing unusual about the patch of concrete he was studying. His hair flopped forward, hiding any expression that might give her a clue to his feelings.
‘Zac, we can’t just kidnap someone else’s child. It sounds like they want him to stay here.’
‘And I can’t let him go without his parent’s permission.’ Mr Abrahmson said to Zac. ‘You understand.’
Sean cut in. ‘Daniel, what’s your parents’ number?’
Hannah pulled Sean down so he could hear her whispers. ‘I think we should talk about this before we ring them.’
‘If they are happy for us to bring him back, why wouldn’t we? He’ll be better off with us than with strangers.’ Sean stepped onto the road and held the phone out to Daniel.
‘Just hang on, no closer.’ Hannah would have been out the door if she hadn’t been on the wrong side of the car. As it was, she was stretched across the seat. ‘He can tell you the number, or at least wipe the phone with something before you give it to him.’ She held out the hand wash. ‘Someone must have a tissue or a hanky.’
Zac disappeared inside the building and they waited in socially awkward silence until he returned with a handful of rough, brown hand towel, the kind found in school toilet blocks. The phone was transferred from hand to hand via disinfectant soaked paper, a round robin of conversation with Sean wiping the whole phone each time it crossed the road. Daniel dialled, spoke a few words, then Mr Abrahamson, then Sean. After Daniel nodded into the handset a couple of times, Sean took the phone again and spoke a few words decisively. Daniel stood with his arms crossed defensively, quarter turned away from everyone, his head bent. Zac, next to him, still faced forward, shuffling foot to foot, each step moving him slightly closer to Daniel.
‘That’s settled, you’re coming with us, Daniel. Sling your bags in the boot. In you hop.’ Sean hesitated a beat. ‘Your mum’ll be all right. I’m sure she’s only got a cold.’
‘Wait, wait, wait.’ Hannah was almost falling out of the car with urgency. ‘There are masks and gloves for you both.’
‘Mum!’ Zac rolled his eyes at her. ‘We’re not sick, no one’s sick here, we’ve been here all the time.’
‘Meanwhile we’ve been breathing all over the car. So, better to isolate you.’
She put on her own gloves before getting two pairs out of the packaging, at arm’s length. Zac put them on self-consciously, looking to Daniel from time to time to see if he thought it was stupid too. ‘If it’s so dangerous why did you even come?’
As Zac slid into the back seat, Oscar tried to leap at him, jerked back by the seatbelt he forgot he was wearing.
‘Don’t touch him!’
Oscar jumped, startled by the seatbelt and Hannah’s screech. He looked to her with tear-filled eyes, not sure what he’d done wrong. She tried to calm her voice. ‘It’s okay. You just can’t touch him.’ Oscar’s face was a mix of guilt, fear and embarrassment.
‘Hey Mouse,’ Sean leant into him, ‘Zac’s been away for a few days, so he’s got different germs from us. His germs are probably fine, and ours are too, but for a few days we have to keep our germs to ourselves.’ Oscar unclenched a little.
‘I want to hug Zac.’
‘Not today, Mouse. Save your hugs for a few days.’ Oscar drew himself in, trying to put space between him and Zac.
Half of Canberra seemed to consist of dusty tracts of land beside the road, dotted with gum trees. The best Hannah could find was a triangle between nowhere and nowhere else, with no houses or office buildings nearby. It wasn’t pretty but it was isolated. Oscar sat waiting for what would happen next on this strange day, cross-legged, a big smile on his face. As Hannah unpacked the eclectic assortment of food from the backpack, Zac stood looking down at it.
‘You can’t expect us to eat with masks on. So what are we supposed to do?’
‘Take your sandwiches over to the next tree. You can take off the mask and gloves there.’
‘I bet you made the sandwiches, didn’t you. So they have your germs, so that would be really dumb.’ Zac rolled his eyes at her. ‘What’s the point of the stupid masks, if we’re going to eat the germs anyway?’
Hannah was sideswiped by the thought. She didn’t have ready-made answer, only a synthesis of snippets she had read. ‘Eating germs is not the same as breathing them or rubbing them in your eyes. I don’t think you can catch this germ from eating it.’ She rummaged through the bag for anything in packets. ‘Here you go. Hygienically sealed in a factory.’
‘Muesli bars? Muesli bars aren’t lunch. And the masks are still stupid.’
‘There are cheese snacks in here too. Don’t take the gloves off and don’t touch the food before it goes in your mouth, hold it with the wrapper.’
‘Dad, she’s mad.’
‘Yes she is. Do as she says.’
In the car, Zac and Daniel kept up a joint monologue, reliving the school trip in shared cryptic three quarter sentences. ‘And then he’, ‘but Simon wanted to’, laughter. Oscar tried to join in by retelling the bits of stories that he thought he understood but Zac would cut in halfway through. ‘You weren’t there, Oscar, you don’t know what happened.’ And each time, Oscar would hug his wounded silence to himself for five or ten minutes until his infatuation for the older boys overcame him.
Hannah let it all wash around her, concentrated on the driving and the mostly empty road in front of her. Even Zac’s snarkiness made her happy to have him back. Their only stop was for a toilet break at Zac’s request. Oscar took to the trees with enthusiasm, proud to show his brother that he was an expert at peeing by the side of the road. Zac wrinkled his nose and declared he’d hold on but Daniel sheepishly admitted that he needed to go. Hannah took the break to stretch her legs behind the car
. She listened in to the exchange between Sean and Zac in the al fresco men’s room.
‘We’re not going to stop again, so if you hold on, you’re holding on for two hours.’
‘I don’t need to go.’
‘You asked to stop. I mean it, we’re not stopping again and if you think we’ll give in and stop at a proper toilet, you’re wrong.’
When Daniel came back, Zac stomped up to the trees, engulfed in a cloud of resentment. Hannah accidentally glanced over and whipped her eyes away again but all she’d seen was Zac struggling to work out how to juggle the gloves and the hand wash.
The open road—they had made it, they’d escaped. Hannah relaxed her grip on the wheel, turned on the radio and twiddled the dial until she found a classic hits station. The sounds of the seventies, the seventies and the seventies from what she could hear. She kept her eyes on the road but out of the corner of her eye she could see Sean doing disco moves to stadium rock. He took a bow to the back seat. As the next song started, they made sideways eye contact, it was a gift, and in unison broke into ‘We Are the Champions’.
Daniel’s facemask looked blankly at Hannah in the rear view mirror but Zac had thrown himself back in his seat. ‘Stop the car, I want to kill myself.’
Sean and Hannah launched into the second chorus with gusto. The music faded leaving them singing a cappella, much too loud and slightly out of tune. Under their harmonies, an almost robotic voice rose from the radio, soporific in its disjointed statements. ‘...prepare to stop. The road ahead is closed. Follow all instructions given. Prepare to stop. This is an announcement by...’ Sean flicked it off. ‘Not champions yet.’ He put his hand over hers on the gear stick. ‘We were fine this morning, we’ll be fine now. At least we’re all together.’
The spot where they had been turned around that morning came slowly into view, visible each time the hills rose and fell. It seemed different from this direction, more organised, more structured. It was surprising how solid a temporary barrier could look.
The important thing was to behave normally, which shouldn’t be hard, they hadn’t really done anything wrong. But even the act of thinking about looking innocent made her feel guilty. They hadn’t put anyone in danger, except the farmer and he knew they’d come from Sydney and still got in the car of his own accord. And it’s not as if they had broken through the barrier, they had just taken another route. But still, she felt her cheeks burn.
An Ordinary Epidemic Page 10