But no rocks came. The tractor’s engine stopped. So did Aunt Evie’s shouts. The air grew silent. Except for the sound of a distant voice.
‘Help.’
What was that?
I opened my eyes. Had I imagined it?
Curtis jumped down from the tractor, just metres from where I stood. Two red-chested rosellas screeched across the sky. Aunt Evie was still a few hundred metres away, her curly hair wild as she ran towards me.
‘Help!’ There it was again.
‘Harry?’ I crouched in front of Fatticake’s burrow and thrust my head into the hole. ‘Hello?’ I called.
‘Help!’ called the voice again.
‘Harry!’ I shouted. ‘Harry, is that you?’ I lay on my belly, trying to get a better look. The hole was deep and dark and smelt like a bag of unwashed potatoes.
‘Harry, can you hear me?’
I tilted my head to listen, but there was no answer. Just a rustle in the trees, and a galah shrieking in a nearby branch.
Then, ‘I’m stuck,’ came a faint voice. It was Harry.
‘It’s Harry! Harry’s down here!’ I yelled, sitting back up and calling to Curtis. ‘He’s stuck! We need shovels! We have to dig him out.’
Aunt Evie crouched beside me, plugging numbers into her phone. ‘I think we’ll need more than shovels, Mouse,’ she said, her voice low and urgent. ‘I’m calling Mrs Campbell and the State Emergency Services. Curtis, I think you should go and fetch your mum.’
‘What on earth’s happened?’ demanded Mrs Campbell when she and Harry’s brothers arrived at Fatticake’s burrow.
I took a deep breath and set my chin. I’d worked out exactly what to say. I’d tell Mrs Campbell how desperate Harry was to save his very last wombat and how it was her fault it had come to this. But when she peered at me with blazing eyes, my chin trembled and my voice shrivelled in my throat.
‘Mouse thinks Harry’s down there,’ explained Aunt Evie. ‘She thinks she heard his voice.’
‘Harry’s down there?’ asked Craig.
‘Yes,’ Aunt Evie insisted.
Mrs Campbell took a step towards us. ‘Did you put him up to this?’ she spat, her lips pinched and pale. ‘You and your city ideas. Farms aren’t jungle gyms, you know.’
I wanted to shout at her, tell her she shouldn’t have killed Harry’s wombats in the first place, but instead I shrank back against Aunt Evie and didn’t say a word.
‘How long’s he been down there, do you think?’ asked Curtis.
I’d been wondering that, too. Harry had been so determined to save Fatticake, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d beaten me here this morning and ventured into the narrow tunnel then. It was a long time to be stuck in a wombat hole. In the freezing cold.
Mrs Campbell looked at Craig, then at Curtis, but they both shook their heads. When exactly had Harry put himself in danger?
‘I’m sure he’ll be okay,’ said Aunt Evie kindly. ‘Perhaps he snuck down there this afternoon? That would make it, what … two hours? Two hours down a hole isn’t,’ she hesitated, ‘too bad, is it?’
‘Too bad?’ bellowed Mrs Campbell. ‘My son could be suffocating down there. It is most definitely too bad! Let me get one thing clear. If something has happened to my son, then I’ll be holding you two responsible. Do you understand?’
Aunt Evie stiffened behind me. ‘Excuse me?’ she began.
But a State Emergency Services truck carrying five people in orange fluoro jackets pulled up towards us. I took a shaky breath. Harry would be all right now. The SES knew what they were doing.
‘We risk a serious cave-in if we go in too heavy,’ said Neil, the man in charge. He and his crew had carefully inspected the site, sending a remote control camera into the burrow to see how far down Harry had gone. ‘Our best bet is to secure the hole and dig him out.’
He sent a warning glance to Curtis, who’d fetched some tools from the ute. ‘You can’t go ploughing in there with pick axes, son. Not until we know what we’re dealing with.’
‘Dig him out?’ squawked Mrs Campbell. ‘My son’s life is in danger. He’s suffocating in there! How long will it take?’
‘Depends how jammed in he is,’ said Neil, ‘and the state of the tunnel. Could be an hour. Possibly more. But, look, we’ll keep calling out for him, and as long as he calls back, then we’ll know he’s still okay. Don’t worry, we’ll get him out.’
Mrs Campbell clutched at Curtis’s arm, her face ashen.
Mrs Campbell and Harry’s brothers hovered around the burrow while the SES gathered their equipment.
‘Stand back, please, everyone stand back.’
I sat to one side with Aunt Evie, holding her hand as we watched the SES crew shovel the hole wider. Each time they progressed a little, they’d stop and brace the sides with special beams to stop the walls collapsing. Dig. Beam. Dig again.
Seconds ticked by, then minutes, then an hour. By now an ambulance and a police vehicle had arrived and, like us, the officers watched the SES crew, with their radios and a stretcher at the ready. Every now and then, Neil would call down to reassure Harry. ‘We’re coming, mate,’ he would say. ‘Just you hang in there.’
Then we’d wait, none of us breathing, until we heard Harry’s answer. It was either, ‘Okay’, ‘I’m right’, or ‘Thank you’, each time slightly weaker than the last. Once we heard it, we’d breathe again and the SES would keep working.
Before long, the sun began to disappear below the horizon, and Neil had to organise a floodlight over the hole. I slid closer to Aunt Evie. The eerie light only seemed to make everything worse.
Soon it was completely dark except for the circle of light around the hole, but the SES kept working. Mrs Campbell looked ready to collapse. At first she’d paced beside the SES truck, but eventually she’d perched on a mottled boulder not far from where Aunt Evie and I sat, jumping up every time the men called out to Harry. Craig and Curtis sat with her, their heads in their hands.
I dared not look at her at first, in case she shouted or told me off again. But then I thought of Harry, alone and scared in the hole. He’d only been trying to save Fatticake. My teeth clenched. And how dare Mrs Campbell yell at Aunt Evie and me. It wasn’t our fault that Harry had done something so dangerous. Like Harry, we were only trying to save wombats.
I leapt to my feet. I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. I had to speak up – for Harry, and for Fatticake. And for Miss Pearl and Willow, too.
‘Mouse?’ asked Aunt Evie. ‘Where are you going?’
I walked over and stood in front of Mrs Campbell. ‘This didn’t have to happen,’ I began, my shadow from the floodlight falling over her and Harry’s brothers.
Mrs Campbell looked up, her eyes narrowing into slits.
I cleared my throat, and took a deep breath, ignoring the quiver in my stomach. ‘Harry really, really loves wombats,’ I said. ‘He’s known every wombat that’s lived on your farm. He gave them names and recorded where they lived and when they died, he even collected their skulls from their burrows. Fatticake, the wombat who lives in this burrow, is the last one left.’
Mrs Campbell stared at me as if maggots were wriggling from my nose. ‘He’s done this before?’ she croaked. ‘Crawled down burrows, collecting wombat skulls?’
My palms grew sweaty. My mouth dry. But I couldn’t give up now. I was part of a group called the Wombat Warriors, not the Wombat Wimps. ‘Yes,’ I continued, my voice shaky. ‘He doesn’t want you to kill wombats any more. I’ve done a project, a wombat-ology project, where I’ve researched information about catering for wombats on farms, things like putting in wombat gates if you’d like to—’
Mrs Campbell’s face darkened. ‘Cater for wombats?’ she spat. ‘Farms are not hotels, young lady!’ She aimed an angry finger at me, like I was a criminal found guilty in her court. ‘You’re ridiculous!’
‘Now wait on,’ interrupted Aunt Evie. ‘Mouse was only—’
‘It’s okay, Aunt Evie,’ I said, putting my hand on hers. ‘I need to say this myself. Mrs Campbell, if you could only see how cute joey Willow is, and how cuddly Miss Pearl is when she snuggles up on the couch,’ I pleaded. ‘Wombats deserve a safe place to live, just like us.’
Mrs Campbell looked so angry I expected steam to burst from her ears. ‘Willow? Pearl? Don’t tell me there are more!’
I looked guiltily over at Aunt Evie. I hadn’t meant to blurt out our secret.
Aunt Evie’s face turned pale. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I know it’s against your rules to keep animals inside the house, but they don’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘Too right it’s against my rules,’ said Mrs Campbell, arching her eyebrows. ‘First one wombat, now three? Oh, it just gets better and better. You know I’ll have to evict you for this.’
‘What?!’ cried Aunt Evie.
My chest heaved and, before I knew it, I was sobbing. I dropped my head and held my face, wet tears soaking into my palms.
‘It’s okay, Mouse, it’ll be okay,’ soothed Aunt Evie, pulling me into a tight hug. ‘I’ll find somewhere to live. Come on, chin up, it’s only a house.’
‘Okay, folks, stand back. Here we go!’ called Neil from the burrow.
‘Harry!’ cried Mrs Campbell as two SES workers carried his limp body from the hole and lay him on the ground.
I reached for Aunt Evie’s hand again as Mrs Campbell ran past us to Harry and pulled his filthy body close.
‘Wait up,’ said Neil. ‘We shouldn’t move him just yet. We don’t know what sort of injuries he may have sustained. It’s best to let the ambulance crew check him over first.’
Harry had opened his eyes. ‘Mum?’ he murmured.
My heart leapt.
‘Oh, Harry!’ Mrs Campbell cried.
The ambulance crew rushed over and draped a foil blanket over Harry’s shoulders, encouraging Mrs Campbell to step aside so they could carry him to the ambulance.
Harry was trying to speak, but his words were slurred, like his tongue was too thick for his mouth. ‘Wombahh,’ he groaned, pointing back towards the excavated site.
‘Sorry, love. What did you say?’ asked Mrs Campbell, bending closer.
Harry’s gaze was fixed on Fatticake’s burrow. ‘Wombahh,’ he said. ‘Twapped.’
Mrs Campbell frowned and looked at me. ‘What?’
I wriggled from Aunt Evie’s embrace and faced Mrs Campbell square on. ‘He said there’s a wombat down there, trapped inside its burrow.’ My lip trembled. Harry looked so helpless wrapped up in foil. ‘We have to save it,’ I said firmly. ‘For Harry.’
Mrs Campbell’s glance slid from me to Harry and back. And then, very slowly, she moved aside for the ambulance crew.
‘We’ll find Fatticake, don’t worry,’ I said as they carried Harry to the ambulance. ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’
‘We’re here if you need us,’ called Aunt Evie, stepping back so Mrs Campbell could climb up beside Harry. ‘Let me know if there’s anything we can do.’
‘I’ll deal with you when I get back,’ Mrs Campbell replied.
The ambulance and police van wound their way from the paddock, and Curtis and Craig began helping Neil and the SES crew pack up.
‘Would you mind if I had a minute?’ I asked before they removed the floodlight. ‘I promise I won’t be long.’
I saw the way Harry’s brothers looked at each other, but I ignored them and crouched beside Fatticake’s burrow.
I sang ‘Click Go the Shears’, my voice wobbly. I felt the gazes of the SES crew and Harry’s brothers boring into my back. I looked towards Aunt Evie, hoping she knew the rest. She smiled and joined me at the hole, where she quietly finished the chorus.
I hardly believed it when it came. The faintest snuffle, from just inside the hole.
One more round of the chorus, and a twitching nose peeked out.
Harry’s brothers stared. The SES crew moved closer.
‘Here, buddy,’ I whispered. ‘It’s us. Your friends.’
Fatticake’s whiskers twitched as he warily looked around. He took one step forwards, then two steps and, with Aunt Evie’s help, we scooped him up and pulled him from the hole.
‘Here, let me help,’ said Curtis, running to my side. ‘Wow, he’s a big one.’ He held Fatticake in a firm grip against his chest, while Craig shook his head and grinned.
‘So this is what all the fuss was about?’ said Neil, unplugging the floodlight. ‘What are you going to do with him now?’
Curtis and Craig helped us carry Fatticake back to the cottage and then left Aunt Evie and me to check him for injuries. He had a cut across the back of his ear and a tear in the pad of one of his paws, but otherwise he was only a little shaken. After dabbing his cuts with cream, I helped Aunt Evie feed him and Miss Pearl, Willow and Pumpkin, who were less than pleased with their late dinner. Poor Willow was two feeds overdue and guzzled her milk so quickly she nearly made herself sick. But eventually the animals were asleep, and it was only then, after we collapsed beside the pot-belly stove with steaming hot chocolates, that Mrs Campbell’s words sunk in.
I’ll deal with you when I get back.
‘I’m sorry, Aunt Evie,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything about Willow and Miss Pearl. It’s my fault you’ve been evicted.’
Aunt Evie’s hands cupped her hot drink. ‘Oh, Mouse. Don’t worry about it. I had it coming anyway. Whoever heard of hiding wombats in a house? Honestly, it was bound to happen sooner or later. My main concern is that Miss Pearl and Willow don’t get hurt.’
‘But what will you do?’ I murmured.
Aunt Evie glanced around. Fatticake, Miss Pearl and Willow were all snoring on the couch, while Pumpkin, eager not to miss out, was roosting on Miss Pearl’s back, his beak resting near Miss Pearl’s ear. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Look for another place to live?’
‘But where?’ No landlord would let Aunt Evie keep her animals.
Aunt Evie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. How about you take the day off school tomorrow, after all the stress of today, and we go and have a look? I’m just about due a rostered day off, and I don’t know how much notice Mrs Campbell’s going to give me.’
‘Really? I’d love to take a day off!’
‘Good. It’s a deal. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather go house hunting with if not the bravest niece I’ve ever had.’
‘The only niece you’ve ever had,’ I reminded her, smiling.
Before Aunt Evie and I set off to go house hunting the following morning, we decided to return Fatticake to his burrow. His injuries weren’t bad enough to keep him inside, and even though the burrow had been partly ruined, it was still his home.
I walked him over while Aunt Evie finished getting ready, and was on my way back when Mrs Campbell’s ute pulled up in Aunt Evie’s driveway.
‘Harry!’ I shouted, running to his side as he climbed from the passenger seat.
Apart from a sling across his left shoulder and a scratch down one cheek, Harry looked just the same. He smiled and then rolled his eyes towards his mum as if warning me of what was to come.
‘Shall we go inside?’ asked Mrs Campbell.
‘No!’ I took in a sharp breath. ‘Well, um, I-I don’t know,’ I stammered.
Mrs Campbell put an arm under Harry’s good elbow. ‘Harry needs to sit down. The doctors said it’s important that he rest.’
‘I’ve fractured my collarbone,’ explained Harry. ‘And I might have concussion. See here?’ Harry pointed to swelling on his forehead. ‘This is where Fatticake butted me in the head.’
I glanced at the reddened lump, trying to think of a way to stall Mrs Campbell. I would’ve thought Harry might help me, bu
t he was peering past my shoulder.
I sighed. I’d already spilled the beans about Willow and Miss Pearl, and Mrs Campbell had told Aunt Evie she’d been evicted. How much worse could it get?
‘Well, I suppose you can come in,’ I said, leading the way and opening the door. ‘Just watch out for Pumpkin. He’s not too keen on visitors.’
True to form, as they stepped inside, Pumpkin pecked first at Mrs Campbell’s boots and then at Harry’s laces, but I skillfully pushed him out the front door and shut it quickly behind me. One less animal to worry about.
‘Oh,’ said Aunt Evie, joining us in the hall. Her handbag was slung over one shoulder and her keys jiggled, all ready to go. She’d even applied a swipe of red lipstick. ‘Mrs Campbell,’ she said formally. Then, ‘Harry! It’s so good to see you up and about already.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I said, straightening the cushions to cover the couch stuffing as I glanced around for the wombats. Willow was asleep, tucked in against a corner of the couch and hidden by the wrappings of her blanket, and by the sound of things, Miss Pearl was snoring on Aunt Evie’s bed.
I tried to act natural as Aunt Evie invited Mrs Campbell and Harry to sit at the kitchen table, but my breathing became shallow and fast. My chest tightened as I watched Mrs Campbell inspecting the cottage: the chewed skirting boards, the scratched wooden floors and the bags spilling carrots and oats onto the benchtops.
‘Anzac biscuit?’ I offered, to distract her.
Harry took two and Mrs Campbell one, which she promptly dipped into the tea that Aunt Evie had set down beside her. ‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘Could do with a little more coconut, but, all in all, quite nice.’
‘Thanks,’ said Aunt Evie, sitting next to me.
‘Now,’ began Mrs Campbell, ‘I’ve come to—’
She was interrupted by her mobile, and I exhaled with relief as she took the call out on the veranda. I leant closer to Harry.
Wombat Warriors Page 10