Tomorrow 2 - The Dead Of The Night

by John Marsden

  We trudged on, each quiet with private thoughts and theories and dreams. It was after midnight when we got to Chris’s place. There were no lights on, but we were being terribly careful, in case there were colon­ists asleep inside. But by then I was sick of tiptoeing. ‘Let’s rock the roof,’ I suggested, thinking of the rain on the galvanised iron of the shearers’ quarters back at Kevin’s. The others looked at me pityingly, but I was in a dangerous mood, fed up with hiding and running and skulking around. ‘No, let’s,’ I insisted. ‘What’s going to happen? If anyone’s in there, they’re not going to rush out into the darkness with guns blazing. They wouldn’t be that stupid. There’s plenty of cover around, so we can get away fast if we have to.’

  My powers of persuasion were better than I’d realised, because within thirty seconds I’d talked them into it. I wasn’t sure that I’d wanted to talk them into it – I’d been half joking – but to turn back now was to lose too much face, I reflected ruefully, picking up all the stones I could carry. We agreed on a place to meet if we got chased, then surrounded the house. At the signal – a long, frighteningly loud ‘Coooeee’ from Homer – I let fly. It was quite exciting. A squadron of possums wearing football boots and wheeling defec­tive supermarket trolleys at high speed might have made as much noise, but they’d have had to work at it. I backed away fast, biting my bottom lip in amaze­ment, and almost biting through it when I tripped over a garden seat. My shins and ankles certainly took a lot of punishment on these night-time excursions. One lone rock, an unexpected afterthought from someone, suddenly clattered across the roof, a full minute after all the others. There was still not a murmur from inside the house. It was impossible that there could be anyone there after that.

  We gathered again near the front door and sent Homer to go and look through the kitchen window, after he admitted to throwing the extra rock. ‘It’s too dark to see much,’ he grumbled; then, after looking a bit longer, he said ‘I think it’s the same as when we left that message for Chris. I don’t think anyone’s been here.’

  And that’s the way it was. It was a disheartening discovery. We checked the old piggery where Chris had hidden immediately after the invasion, but there was no sign of life there either. So we gathered around the dusty table in the musty kitchen, feeling tired and unhappy. The rush of excitement from the roof-rocking had quickly gone. We were so upset about Chris, yet so helpless. The only guesses we could make about his whereabouts were depressing ones. I was annoyed with myself that I hadn’t thought to ask Mrs Mackenzie and the man in the machinery shed if they knew anything about him. But I’d been too confused and nervous. My only consolation was Robyn’s comment that if Chris had been caught and taken to the Showground, the two adults would have mentioned it.

  ‘Well, no news is good news,’ Fi sighed.

  ‘Honestly, Fi,’ I snapped, ‘that’s a great help. That must be one of the most stupid expressions ever invented.’

  Fi looked hurt. It was after one o’clock and we were all tired. Getting cold too.

  ‘There’s just nothing more we can do,’ Homer said. ‘To tell you the truth, the most likely thing is that he’s ... I hate to say this – that he’s dead.’

  We all squawked at Homer in outraged voices. We’d all thought of the possibility, of course, but to talk about it was to commit an obscenity. It was too frightening and horrifying to hear anyone say it out loud. Perhaps we were scared that our saying it might make it real, might make it happen. I’d already learnt a lot about the power of words.

  ‘Well, what are we going to do?’ Lee asked. ‘We can’t stay here.’

  ‘Yes we can,’ Fi said.

  ‘I don’t think it’s too safe round here,’ Homer said. ‘Those colonists are just up the road. We don’t know how far they’ve spread, this side of town. They could be at the Langs’ tomorrow.’

  ‘But it’s so late,’ Fi said. ‘And I’m so tired. And cold. I’m so sick of everything.’ She put her head down on her arms as she sat at the table.

  Lee patted her hair sympathetically, but the rest of us were too tired to do anything.

  ‘We could stay here for a few hours,’ Homer offered. ‘But we’d have to go again before dawn. I’d rather have a good sleep later than have a lousy sleep now.’

  There was a silence as we all sat looking at Fi, hoping she’d give in gracefully.

  ‘Oh all right,’ she said at last, crossly, shaking Lee’s hand off and getting up. ‘Where are we going then?’

  ‘Let’s go into Wirrawee,’ Homer said quickly. ‘We haven’t been there for ages, and we ought to have a look and see what’s going on, see if there’s anything we can do. If we leave now we’ll make it by dawn.’

  We were too tired to argue. No one had any other ideas anyway. I was quite pleased to go to Wirrawee. I wanted to be as close to civilisation as possible. I didn’t want to see Hell for quite a bit longer.

  It started raining again ten minutes after we left Chris’s. The smart thing to do would have been to turn around and go back and find a dry shed, but no one even suggested it. I think that having started, we couldn’t contemplate making another decision. So we plodded on in silence, getting wetter and wetter. It was very dark but we could stay on the road with no fears of getting caught, so we followed it easily enough. I don’t think anyone spoke a word between our departure from Chris’s and our arrival in Wirrawee.

  We got to the music teacher’s house at daybreak But the grey wet light in the eastern sky was little different to the darkness of the night. Four of us stood shivering in the garden, hiding behind trees, wet and dripping, while Homer searched the house to make sure it was empty. I wondered where he got his energy. He seemed to have more than me, more than anyone. But at last he signalled us in. We squelched inside miserably, found towels and blankets and stripped off in the upstairs bathroom. Homer offered to do guard duty and no one gave him an argument Robyn and Fi snared one bed and I took another, in the next bedroom. Lee disappeared down the corridor to the end room. I just hoped the house wouldn’t get raided while we were all undressed, but there was no sign of anyone having been here since our last visit.

  I lay there and as so often happened, having waited all night to get to a bed and get some sleep, now that I was in bed my eyes wouldn’t close. I had never felt more awake. The coarse woollen blanket prickled my skin, but in a nice way. It felt rough and primitive. For a long time I couldn’t get warm, and I pressed my legs together and huddled further under the blankets, trying to hot up. Eventually the blankets covered me completely. I crossed my arms and put my hands into my armpits. My skin tingled as the blood started to circulate again, until only my feet were still cold. I put the right one on top of the left, willing them to thaw out. At last the warmth, the snugness, the cosiness that I’d been needing for so long, spread through me, till I could relax all over. I lay there, feeling luxurious. Then I heard a whisper.

  ‘Are you awake?’

  I popped my head out in shock. I felt like a possum coming out of a tree trunk, and I know my eyes were staring and my hair was all mussed up from the blanket, so I probably looked like a possum too.

  It was Lee.

  ‘You look like a caterpillar again.’

  ‘Not a possum?’

  ‘Yes, that too. Can I get in with you?’

  He was standing there wrapped in a blanket, shiv­ering with cold. His brown eyes looked at me plead­ingly. I felt a slow warm burn of excitement, but tried not to show it.

  ‘No!’ I said. ‘I’m only wearing blankets.’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping. It’s all I’m wearing too.’

  ‘Lee!’

  ‘Please?’

  ‘No. Well, you can lie on the bed I suppose, but that’s all. And don’t think,’ I added as he started quickly hopping over to me, ‘that you’re going to sweet-talk me into anything else.’

  ‘But my charm and personality ...’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know all about that.’

  He lay bes
ide me with his head resting on his right arm, looking at me thoughtfully. He had the trace of a smile.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked presently.

  ‘Oh.’ He’d caught me by surprise. It was too excit­ing having him this close. I was getting hot under the blankets. ‘I don’t think I want to answer that.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’ll answer part of it. I was wondering why you were smiling.’

  To my surprise he didn’t say anything for quite a while. But the smile had left his face. He looked very serious, like he was in church or something.

  ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’ I asked him.

  ‘No. I don’t sleep so well these days. Not since that night by the cliff.’

  I shuddered. ‘Change the subject.’

  He suddenly moved a little closer and kissed me hard. I kissed him back, possibly even harder. It was so fresh, but I didn’t know where it might end, or where I wanted it to end. Gradually his kisses changed from hard and savage to soft and teasing, making little light contacts with my lips in one spot after another. It was exciting. We did that for quite a time, then lay with our heads on each other’s shoulders. His blanket had slipped down a bit, though I was making sure that mine didn’t. I felt the smooth hollow under his collarbone, his skin warm and alive. I nudged it with my lips, making little murmuring noises to it, and rubbed my hands up his arms. I found a little pulse under the skin and concentrated on kissing that. He was humming quietly, I thought, but I wasn’t sure if it was his skin or his voice. He played with my hair and the back of my neck, stroking me with surprising confidence. With his long fine fingers he teased my hair out, unravelling a few knots and letting the strands slide across his hands.

  ‘Nice hair,’ he said at last.

  ‘It’s so oily,’ I complained.

  ‘I like it. It feels natural. It’s sexy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I laughed.

  He must have taken that for encouragement, because he moved his hand down under the blanket for the first time, feeling for my shoulder blades. Oh help, I thought. What do I do here? Dad always used to talk about the thin edge of the wedge, and I was afraid that this was it. I didn’t want to stop, but I thought maybe we should, and I thought I might regret it if I didn’t stop him soon. But it felt so good. Damn him, I thought, how does he know what I like? I wondered if I was having the same effect on him with my hands, and I experimentally ran my fingers down his side as far as I could get, which wasn’t very far. His skin seemed to come out in goose pimples as I touched him, which was quite exciting. I lifted myself a little and touched his left nipple. Steve had taught me that boys’ nipples were as sensitive as girls’. Lee’s were different to Steve’s though. Steve’s had been pale and wide, like fried eggs on his chest. I liked Lee’s more. They were little and dark brown, like press studs. When I played with the left one it hardened straightaway, so I could strum it and tickle it with the tip of my finger.

  ‘Ai, ai, ai,’ he said.

  ‘Is that Thai or Vietnamese?’

  ‘Neither. Universal.’

  ‘Ha.’

  My blanket was holding up at the front, just, but was well down at the back, as Lee’s hands kept roaming. I lay still for a while, feeling guilty that I wasn’t doing more but enjoying his touch too much. My skin had become so heated that I thought his hands would catch fire. I moved back off him a little, but couldn’t help playing with his right nipple for a minute, just like I had the left. Then I ran my hand lower, in a long sweeping movement, kissing him warmly as I did so.

  ‘Are you going to be able to stop?’ I asked him.

  ‘Sure, sure.’

  ‘You’re a terrible liar.’

  By moving back off him that little bit I’d given him more room. Trying to look casual, he put his hand under the blanket that was just covering me at the front, at the same time kissing me hard to try to distract me. And I was easily distracted. I let him run his hands over my skin, thinking that what had been fair enough for him was fair enough for me. I rumpled his hair, feeling my face redden as he excited me more and more. Would I be able to stop? Would I want to stop? I already knew the answer to that, as I had done since he first came into the room.

  ‘Oh God Lee,’ I said, but couldn’t think of how I should finish the sentence. My own hands went further than they should have, down to his waist and beyond. It was as though they had a life of their own. The hell with it, I thought. I’ll do it. Last time we’d been in this house I’d spent a lot of time wrapped in a tartan rug: that’s when Lee had first called me a caterpillar, a ‘beautiful sexy caterpillar’. Now, a cater­pillar again, I was emerging from my cocoon of blankets. Lee’s hands were at my bum and he was rolling me over a little. I felt up inside his legs as high as I dared, but not quite touching everything. I sneaked a little look though. It was fascinating; such a wild looking thing, so greedy, so determined. I knew Lee was looking at me too, and I was a bit embar­rassed. Not very, though. It was obvious that he liked what he saw, and I secretly enjoyed the effect I was having on him.

  ‘Have you got a ..?’ I asked, turning my head away a little. I didn’t want to say the word.

  ‘A what?’ he asked.

  ‘You know, a condom.’

  ‘Oh no!’ he groaned, ‘Ellie! Not that! Not now!’

  ‘OK, OK,’ I said, ‘that’s cool, just as long as you have the baby for me.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Lee swore. ‘Do you have to?’

  ‘Yes! Can you imagine if I got pregnant?’

  He sulked for a minute, then said, ‘I think Homer’s got some.’

  ‘How many do you think you’ll need?’ I asked, giggling into my pillow. He started getting up.

  ‘Wait!’ I said. ‘What are you going to do? You can’t just go and ask him for them.’

  ‘I’m not that stupid,’ he said, still grumpy. ‘They’re in his wallet, and his wallet should be in his trousers and his trousers are in the bathroom, drying.’

  He disappeared out of the door, shuffling along in his blanket, and I lay there, smiling. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to do it. I hoped I wouldn’t muck it up and that it wouldn’t hurt too much and that it would feel fantastic. I was nervous, but I was still aching all over with the need for him, the longing to feel him against me again. His warm hands had felt fantastic. I gave a little laugh out loud, a laugh of amazement and disbelief and excitement. It seemed ages before he came back, but at last he shuffled in and flung himself on top of me, clutching a couple of the little packets in his hand. With a shy grin, trying to do it as modestly as possible, he got himself out from his blanket and in under mine. To feel our two naked bodies together, skin to skin, was the wildest feeling of my life. I thought I’d been fired up before, but now it was like sparks were shooting off me. Lee had calmed down with the walk to the bathroom, and had cooled down too, but I warmed him by rubbing against him, and felt him quickly react.

  ‘Put it on,’ I said at last, nodding at his clenched fist.

  He peeled one open and lifted himself off me, looking down so he could see what he was doing. I watched curiously.

  ‘Don’t look,’ he said, blushing and trying to put his forearm over my eyes.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘you’re so cute when you’re shy.’

  When he was ready I hugged him to me and nibbled his ear for a minute, before wrapping my legs around him. After that it went OK; not great, but OK. Lee got a bit clumsy, just from nerves I think, and that made me a bit nervous, which didn’t help. I wanted to be the great lover, the perfect partner, and I got worried that I wasn’t being that. By the time he was really in me he couldn’t hold on any longer, and after that he wasn’t as passionate; he just wanted to lie there and hold me.

  I made him be a bit more creative, until I’d had enough too. I didn’t know what I felt then: a mixture of things. I was pleased that I’d finally done it without any disasters, sorry that it hadn’t been better, wond­ering if I’d be completely different from now on. But I e
njoyed the cuddling. For about half an hour we lay together, eyes closed, scratching each other’s arms and backs with long slow lazy strokes, drifting in and out of sleep.

  We were interrupted by a soft knock on the door and Homer’s whisper. ‘Ellie! It’s your turn for sentry.’

  ‘OK,’ I called. ‘I’ll be there.’

  I waited a few more minutes, then eased Lee off me. I pulled up a blanket for covering, planning to go downstairs and get some dry clothes from my pack before I relieved Homer. But as I got to the door, I suddenly realised something. Homer had knocked on the door, then called his message through it. He’d never done that before. He always just crashed in and shook me awake. We’d known each other so long we didn’t bother with too many polite customs. I turned and looked at Lee, lying there on the bed.

  ‘Lee,’ I said, ‘why did Homer knock on the door?’

  ‘Eh?’ he said, only half awake.

  ‘Why did Homer knock? Why didn’t he come barging in like he usually does?’

  Suddenly he was awake. He looked at me guiltily. ‘Bastard,’ I said coldly.

  ‘I couldn’t find the condoms,’ he said. ‘I had to ask him.’

  I threw the door open and stormed out, spoiling the effect a bit by tripping over the blanket. I was furious. I didn’t want Homer to know what we’d been doing. Once Homer knew, everyone’d know. The only good thing about Lee telling him was that it kept me awake through my whole sentry turn. I spent the time having imaginary conversations with Lee, telling him what I thought of him. Anger’s good like that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I calmed down eventually with Lee. I could see how it would have happened, his telling Homer, although I still wished he hadn’t. But I quite enjoyed the way he hung about, looking so embarrassed and guilty, for a little while anyway. He deserved to suffer a bit.

  All in all though, I felt pretty good. A bit sore occasionally when I moved the wrong way, but pretty good. I was watching myself all day, wondering if I had changed, if I was a new person now. But nothing magic seemed to have happened. In one way I was relieved, but in another I was sorry that I’d never be a virgin again. It was one of those steps: once you’ve taken it, there’s no going back.