95
After
She were sailin on the South roads, further than she’d ever gone. Weeks out from the System. Far enough that she couldnt feel the ache now an then. At the point where she woulda headed for the Glows she’d held her line an kept the bow pointed South East an then she came upon the blacktop. Them old roads was perilous now, the asphalt cracked an worn down, fallen into dry water courses and gullies, cracked by the cold and the heat and the time. This wun had red in it, like the iron an the earth had got into it when it were made. They was still useful as a guide though an she knew that if she kept close to the snakin road she’d gotta hit the Edge eventually, if all what the old fellad told her was true. She kept the Wide Open Road runnin alongside the remnants of the highway, mostly preferrin the packed sand that she knew. The dust and the rattlin of the ship soon fell away and her mind was driftin through the waste, wonderin on what were ahead and behind but most of her keepin an eye on the road an the waverin horizon. This were country she hadnt ever seen before an as she travelled the greenery got more common, more spinifex an the occasional tree turned into clumps of washedout green that marked sum underground water. Here an there she saw that things was growin, shoots an gourds in the long grass. She saw a mob of roos at dusk an then another an the trees was a quiet green that tasted of salt an she were reminded of her ma fore she hadta push the thought away. The road kept runnin South an the sun was always droppin, shadows gettin long and the wind droppin just as it were gettin too dangerous to sail anyhow. The trouble with the South runnin was she werent exactly sure how far she was goin. She made camp and took a cold tea an sum damper but she werent carryin much more than a few days supply anymore. Werent nuthin to skip a few days worth of food an the coupla skins of water she carried was a lot more important but she dint fancy gettin weak from hunger either. She were gunna need to scav sumthin along the way but from what she was seein maybe there was food to be had. Maybe sum kinda life.
Before the sun come up she were out on the wind again, catchin the first gusts that come with dawn an stoppin only once in the day to scope out a shed that came up fast on the horizon. She hitched the Open Road to a post and furled the mainsail, takin her time an doin good recce until she was sure it were abandoned an alone. A wall on the far side of her approach was missin altogether an the rusted walls was just waitin for a good blast of sand to collapse the whole place under the weight of the burnin sun. She took her time goin through the rustin inside, findin sum scraps of wire and sacks of what mighta once been seed or feed but were now just dust. Sum handles of tools with rusted heads, nuthin she weighed good against what she’d gotta carry. She dint stop again that day, just kept gunnin south, no need to eat an a coupla sips of water was all she was getting, all she figgered she had time to take. Then again, she dint have nowun really waitin on her she sposed. Another cold camp, her food supply down to the last scraps of roo an bread now an not enough water for a billy or nuthin warm. Were alright. She’d set a trap tomorrow. Dig a soak next to wun of them green stands she’d been passin an see what the water were like. She slept loose furled in the sail under the Open Road an she’d had worse nights out on the sand. Sum of the high dust cleared an she saw a few stars overhead, castin a starshadow of her ship over her an eventually she slept, dreamin of Karra an the Block like it were old times an the old fella comin to her to say sumthin but the words never quite arrivin.
When she woke again she could smell sumthin different on the wind but it werent nuthin she could pin a name on. After breakin her fast she hit the road. No moren a half hour in the Orphan saw another track of black asphalt crossin the wun she was trackin an broken poles that looked like trees stripped of branches come up outta the sand and stretched into the distance. In the near haze she could see the blacktop was scorched an blasted an by the side of the road was burned out squares of what musta been buildins but was now only ash, drifts of tailings, blown this way an that by the uncarin wind. Here an there were hulks more like the big beasts she seen underground in the Glows than the wuns scattered inside the Boundaries. Piles of ash an charred bones inside the burnedout shells, skulls lettin her know that she werent in no dream, these was bad times she was courtin an in the before peopled been fleein and runnin from whatever she were headed towards. She pressed on through the burnedout squares, crossin grid after grid of blacktop an on the horizon she started seein a low smudge of sumthin an the wind died down an she found herself in harness, towin the ship until she saw the outline of a city or town ahead an she stowed the Open Road in cover an started skirmishin ahead in broken lines, takin her time. She could smell sumthin else now, it were a colour she dint know, a blue an grey she aint never tasted. There were hills up ahead scattered with burned trees thatd turned to stone in the sun an by the time she’d crested the low rises the sun were high in the sky an she took her breath, lookin down on the blastburned remains of what musta been a goodsized town back in the longago. That werent nuthin compared to the Edge though. She werent no stranger to open spaces but this were sumthin else. Across the whole horizon was a greyblue haze an the smell of salt in her nose made sense an it were only through her book lernin that she knew what she were lookin at. That were the sea. It were water. Water you werent supposed to drink but water still. She took a minute an just looked at the vast mouth of it. Swallowin up the earth it were. She reckoned it werent moren a few miles from where she stood now an between her an the blue was what looked to be the town an now she looked closer she could see it werent all burned and blasted. There were a whole bit to the East of where she stood that looked near enough intact, like the fire or whatever it were hadnt reached its fingers out that far. There were buildins and shacks an long low sheds that reached out towards the water an she could see that in sum places the buildins ran down an disappeared into the water an the old fellas stories came back to her about how the seas had rose up an et the land and how it got hotter an hotter an then it all got burned an swallowed up by the fierce ocean that dint care nuthin for nuthin. True as dust it were, she reckoned. She were lookin at the proof right now an the blacktop ran right into the sea as far as she could tell like she was gunna walk to her grave. She thought of the Block then. Thought of the burnedout System an the scattered folk campin in the desert. So manyd burned but even more was alive an scroungin, close to starvin, sum sick mebbe werent never gunna heal. Jon an his fellas had headed back to the Glows but she told him she’d be comin soon. He were healin up from their fight but she werent ready to face him yet.
She took her time checkin out the town. Dint know if there was any fellas livin in the place but she werent gunna find out the hard way. She was usin her bushcraft, comin through the gullies an stayin off the ridges an up above her now an then she could see halfcollapsed walls an she hadta skirt around the wrecks of more burnedout beasts. She never knew just how long ago the longago was but judgin by the bones she passed an the ash that was built up in drifts itd happened long before her mum was born, looked like the works of people was blendin back into the land an soon enough all that was gunna be left would be broken an unformed memories in the heads of them that wandered the waste. Werent no way she could wrap her head around how these fellas musta lived, all she could do was scav through the wreck of their times. Werent never gunna get that back again she reckoned, it were all dust now, she dint know the way back to them times an nowun did. She were gettin hungry now. It were sumthin she were used to an she knew it must be gettin bad if she was noticin it. Funny though, she dint feel weak an she knew there were food back the way she’d come if she wanted to find it. The idea of the town was drivin her on she figgered. She’d never been this far from the System, never even thought to come to the Edge even though the old fellad talked of it plenny back when he’d been of a talkin disposition. She could hear the sea now, if that were what it was. A dull hiss an a quiet out in front of her. She were usedta the noise of the land, the hum of the ground and the wind on the dust but out ahead of her was a great animal she dint
know nuthin about. She crossed more an more burned blacktop an after a while she werent so watchful. This were a dead place. No animal tracks, no birds calling. Nuthin had been alive in this place for a terrible long time, nuthin had disturbed the dead but the wind. She came over another hill, walkin now in the middle of the road and there it were, the water no moren a few hundred metres away at the bottom of a long slope, the road runnin clear into the grey an the skeletons of what she knew musta been ships was stickin out of ruined houses and it were all swayin gently in a way that made her feel unsteady on her feet. The salt smell was heavy now an it were all mixed up with a faint smell of rotten wood an the rotten stink of the sea itself under the clean of the salt. There was plants an dead drift in the water, sloppin back and forth through smashed out windows an open doors. She walked slow down to the Edge itself, shiftin her ruck on her back an takin off her boots. She hitched her pants up and rolled her sleeves, tyin her blade up high an walked real careful into the swayin water, just ankle deep. It were cold like nuthin she’d ever felt an the pulse of it were alive but just barely. This were a thing. This were a beast that was restin, or maybe sick, but she could feel that it werent always like this. The suck an swirl of it around her legs had a power that was hidden, she knew it sumhow. Maybe them old books had done the work the old fella intended cos she knew that in spite of the quiet it were wild. All around her in the scum an splinter of the broken ships an houses was the truth of the lie the sea was tryna tell her. She shuddered an had the urge to run from the ocean but she made herself walk out backwards, never turnin her back. She sat a little up the hill an put her boots back on, tightenin up her straps an bindings, rollin her pants back down, an then she sat quiet, watchin the Edge for a long time till the motion of it were makin her sick an the grey water blended with the grey horizon an she knew if she dint stop lookin it were gunna eat her.
High up on the hill she looked down on the bay. She’d climbed up the windin asphalt, through broken streets an buildings an glass that was startin to go back to the ground. Evrythin was rusted, rotten. Signs she couldnt read’d fallen off rustweak hooks an splintered on the ground. She worked her way up towards the long low buildings what looked like they was mostly untouched. She figgered it long before she went inside but she made herself check anyway. They was fulla people whatd never made it onto the blacktop. Layin in rows, big, small an evrythin in between. Skin dried out an parched like paper, kids under cots, twisted up like they was sleeping. Wuns whatd never had the chance to head into the desert away from whatever had blackened this place. Wuns whatd never had the chance to find safety for whatever thatd been worth. Maybe these were the lucky wuns but she dint really believe that. Maybe it were her what was the lucky wun but she couldnt quite buy that neither. She oughta head back. She oughta be helpin settle the wuns what had left the ashes an ruins of the System an now were just more debris, blowin in the wind. She was gunna bring em out this way. She knew it now. Not all the way to the Edge but to them greener lands she’d crossed to get here. It’d been slow comin to her but she knew it now. She aint just carried what the Old Womand given her, it were her own weight now. Spite all them tellins an all them knowins she reckoned the Old Woman dint really know what’d gone on in the longago an chances were nowun ever would. Might be now that she herself knew moren the Old Womand ever dug up about them bad places though mayhap she were getting a little ahead of herself. What she knew for sure was that them fellas whatd made the System had run too far an theyd never knowed what they come across. By chance or bad luck they built their place on a secret an it were a terrible wun. All that bad blud’d come back up though in the end. The Old Woman had told her you could change the past with a thought but she were gunna have to wrestle with that wun she reckoned. It were sumthin she woulda liked to chew on with the Block. Them what was left was gunna need help survivin though, workin with the Ghosts where they could. It were gunna be a new time but she werent sure what part of it she were gunna be. She’d lead em to a new place. Find em shelter in them hunting grounds she’d passed. Get em outta the worst of the dust but then, she dint know. Dint even know if she could look at her brother yet, still a hole in her heart where Blockd been an it werent gunna fill soon she reckoned. She walked back outta the place filled with the dead an then sat down on the hill up high. Sat a long time. Let her eyes stretch out over the grey sea, seein sumthin out there, far out past the dead town an the quiet waves.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to acknowledge that this story was written on Cadigal Wangal land and is set in Maralinga Tjarutja country.
Thank you Lex Hirst, editor, co-conspirator and fellow believer. Thank you for championing this story from the very beginning and for making it immeasurably better. I am so fortunate to have you as my editor and my dearest wish is to work together again.
Kate O’Donnell, I am in awe of your attention to detail and talent. You made this story stronger and so much more coherent and I am extremely grateful, thank you.
Emily Cook, thank you for all of your help in publicising this story.
Laura Thomas, for the amazing cover design, thank you.
Michael Rayner, one of the greatest adventures and joys while writing this story was travelling to Maralinga with you. Thank you – I’m looking forward to the next trip.
Michelle Tan, thank you for your kindness, your talent and for making me look like an author.
Jimmy Murray, what if we hadn’t gone to the Vic? I don’t even want to think about it. Thank you again.
Theresa Bray, thank you for the encouragement, support and feedback as this story took shape.
Richie Hull, thank you for introducing me to Riddley Walker, to which this story owes a considerable debt.
Cam Shea, thank you for reading an early draft and being a very early fan. GBC represent.
Robin Matthews, thank you for guiding Michael and me around Maralinga, the history lessons and the incomparable storytelling.
James d’Apice, thank you for helping me, a long time ago, find the title of this book and for helping me, not so long ago, with your kind counsel.
I’d like to thank and acknowledge NaNoWriMo, which spurred on the writing of the original manuscript. Every November is National Novel Writing Month and I can’t encourage writers enough to give it a go. Thank you Darren Wells for the tip.
Thank you to my wonderful family, friends, colleagues and teachers for encouraging me, reading early versions and understanding when I had to drop everything and write. I am very lucky to have had your support.
Finally, but most importantly, thank you to my kind and wonderful partner LeaLea. You were the first person to read this story and you have believed in it, and me, from day one. Words can’t do any justice to how much you have contributed to this story but it wouldn’t exist without you. Thank you, I am forever grateful. We did it.
Dan Findlay is a historian by training and editor by trade. Dan has over ten years’ experience editing Australia’s leading youth magazines. He also has over a decade of freelance experience as a writer and photographer for Rolling Stone as well as contributing the odd music story to the Sydney Morning Herald and writing for a wide variety of other pop culture titles. Year of the Orphan is his debut novel.
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