It was a sensation at the back of her neck, like a sort of prickling. Casually she turned around and looked behind her, but couldn't see anything. Later, as she was collecting potatoes, she felt it again.
She wondered how long it would be until she became insane, and thought of cases where people had been stranded on deserted islands and wondered how they had coped. She certainly didn't feel like she was going mad, but then she realised that perhaps the mad don't realise they are. She just hoped the sensation would go away.
Two days later the feeling was back. This time she turned quicker and thought she saw a flash of colour — yellow. It came from deep in the bush that bordered the property.
Later that afternoon, when she'd begun watering the trees in the orchard, she heard a dog growl and a snarl. There was a snapping of teeth. The dog yelped and whined. Then there was the sound of something moving quickly in the bush. She retrieved the .22 from the veranda and walked to the edge of the clearing. A figure wearing blue and yellow moved quickly out of sight.
Meg's heart began thumping. Could it be? Was it possible? She frowned for a moment and then made a decision. She'd seen a box containing a cake mix in the pantry. It only required water to make. She pre-heated the oven and mixed the batter with a wooden spoon. Soon it was in the oven and smells began wafting over the property.
The cake took fifty minutes to cook so in the interim she set up a small table and two chairs. A jug of cold water and ice cubes with slices of lemon came next and she added two glasses. When the cake was ready she cut generous wedges and piled them on a plate.
It didn't take long before she saw the blue and yellow flashes in the bush again.
"You may as well come out and share my cake. It's very good." Her voice squeaked from lack of use.
There was no response and nothing moved.
"It beats being attacked by dogs. I'm far less scary."
The bushes parted slowly. A figure emerged, that of a teenage boy, and he stepped through onto the grass. Although he was ten metres or so away, she could see he was in a sorry state.
Her first impulse was to run and embrace him, but common sense told her to remain calm and lure him out like she would an injured animal. Smiling, she motioned him forward.
He kept most of his weight on one leg and looked at her through a long fringe. There was a bloody wound on his right arm that was fresh. He held a lump of wood like a club. Slowly he approached her.
She was right then, after all. She wasn't the only person to survive. The human population of earth was now double what it previously appeared to be. A lump rose in her throat.
Composing herself, she poured a glass of water and put it down on the part of the table that was closest to the other chair. She took a piece of cake for herself and bit into it. "Yum. Have some."
Actually the cake was awful, but she was sure he wouldn't think so. He wiped his hands on his pants and took a slice, eating it in large bites.
"If you haven't eaten for a while, take it easy to start with." He nodded.
They sat there silently for a few minutes while she tried to examine him surreptitiously. His shoes were worn through and she could see patches of reddened flesh poking through holes. His face was dirty and streaked with what she suspected were dried tears. She guessed his age to be around fifteen or sixteen. He looked like a character from a Manga comic — big eyes and a lock of black hair falling thickly past his eyebrows.
"I have a first-aid kit if you want me to look at that wound."
He bent his right arm and lifted it so he could see the damage.
"Dogs?"
He nodded.
"In that case we should act quickly. I should get some antiseptic cream on it."
He didn't say no, so she went to the four-wheel-drive and pulled out the first-aid-kit. It was in excellent condition.
By the time she returned, the boy had removed his shoes and was examining the sores on his feet. Mostly they were blisters, big and angry looking.
"Okay, I'd better treat those as well. I'll just go and get a bowl of warm water."
While the bowl was filling she thought about how the dog bite should be treated. Antibiotic cream and a tetanus shot?
He flinched as she cleaned and dressed the wounds but didn't say anything. She realised then that he hadn't spoken a word to her. She could only imagine what he'd been through. Did he find his parents dead? His siblings? What had made him set off on a journey on foot — one so arduous that he ended up with worn out shoes and large blisters? She thought of asking his name but decided to let him be silent for as long as he wished.
"Okay, that's about it for now. You'll need to stay off these feet for a few days. You can crash here if you want — there's a spare bed. For now you might want to have a wash." He nodded.
"I'm just going into town to pick up a few things. Is there anything you need?" All she got was an indifferent shrug.
"Okay, well I'll be back in a while. Make yourself at home."
Meg had no idea what a tetanus shot looked like, but figured that a doctor's surgery would have a supply of them. Sure enough, she was able to find two syringes marked 'Tetanus Toxoid' and took both, figuring she should also have one.
She found some dressings and bandages, as well as ointments and some scissors that were good for cutting dressings.
At a general store she bundled up some clothes, pyjamas and other necessities. She saw a small axe, like a tomahawk and thought the boy should have it to protect himself from dogs. She also raided a DVD stand for some light movies.
Arriving home she found the boy lying on the sofa with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. She moved until she was directly above him and examined his features. She felt a gentle smile form across her face.
She had begun thawing a frozen chicken the day before, so was able to slide it into the oven. Carrots and potatoes from the vegetable patch would go nicely.
The boy slept through all the banging of pots and dishes in the kitchen and she was afraid he'd want to sleep right through dinner. As she was dishing the meal up she saw him stir and watched as he came to consciousness. At first his expression was unguarded and happy, but then his face suddenly changed, closing like the door to a safe.
"Dinner's in a couple of minutes — roast chicken and veggies, okay?"
She almost saw the hint of a smile.
"I found some DVD's. You can pick one out to watch after dinner. How about a bath while I wash the dishes and then we'll meet up at the TV?"
She felt that her attempts to provide him with some semblance or normality were working. He seemed to be relaxing a bit.
"Oh, and I got you that little axe over there. It would be a good weapon against dogs." He hobbled over to the coffee table and picked it up. There was definitely a smile hovering around his mouth.
"But first we must eat. Come and help me with the plates."
"My father had type-one diabetes and needed constant insulin shots, so I know a bit about giving injections. I think it's important that you have a tetanus shot and I will have one as well." She let him digest that information for a few seconds.
"These have to go in the upper arm. Do you want me to do you first, or myself?"
He frowned for a moment and then pointed at himself. Meg was nervous but the result was good. The boy flinched but didn't cry out.
She had no idea how to inject herself. The angle was difficult but she got the serum in.
"Right. I think we deserved chocolate after that. What do you think?" She gave him a row of dark milk chocolate before helping herself.
The movie the boy had selected was a brainless action comedy which was not a genre she would normally enjoy. It was perfect for that first night, though, and the two hours went quickly.
The instinct to hug this traumatised young man was strong in Meg, and as she said goodnight she had to fight it, knowing it would be a mistake. She wished him a good night rather formally and watched as he limped into the spare room. Her emotions had
been running at a heightened level in the hours since she discovered his existence, and this caused her to fall into a sleep that was deep but troubled.
Not long after midnight she woke with a thought running through her mind. Something didn't make sense. By the condition of the boy, she could tell he had walked a long way. Somehow he'd ended up at her house in Maleny, a house that was many kilometres from main roads and almost impossible to find accidentally. How had that happened?
CHAPTER FIVE
When Meg swung her legs out of bed the next morning, it was to find the boy sleeping on the floor where her feet were to go. Sometime during the night he had brought his pillow and blanket into the room and slept on the floor by her side.
Meg lay back down and examined his face. Peaceful in the morning light, it featured long eyelashes and olive skin. His eyes were closed but she remembered their brown depths from the day before. He was a good-looking young man and there was something about him that made her guess he was from wealthy parents.
Finally the need to use the bathroom caused her to move, and she shimmied to the other side of the bed and crept quietly across the timber floor. Using the second bathroom would be quieter than using the ensuite one, so she closed the bedroom door and made her way across the living room to the other end of the house.
This bathroom featured a full-length mirror which prompted Meg to undress and examine herself with critical eyes. Until that moment, the thought of her appearance hadn't crossed her mind — who would see her, after all? Now, though, there was another person in the world and she looked at herself as though through his eyes.
Her scalp was covered in around twenty days of hair regrowth and it looked patchy and ugly. Not having bothered with sunscreen in recent times had meant her complexion had roughened. Two eyes were sunken into hollow sockets and every millimetre of her skin needed both exfoliants and moisturisers.
Figuring that the boy would be more comfortable around her if she looked like a woman — his mother perhaps, she spent the next hour shampooing, shaving, removing dead skin cells and moisturising. Then she applied some light make-up, deodorant and perfume.
Meg's favourite t-shirt bore a smiley-face, so she teamed that with track pants and reassessed her image. The woman who stared back at her from the mirror looked younger and certainly more approachable.
It was time to cook them both some breakfast.
"I wonder where we could find some live chickens. Any ideas?"
The boy took a mouthful of cereal and shook his head.
"Hmm, somewhere with automatic feeders and an ongoing power supply. Poultry sheds. I'll look today. A hatchery too...some chickens might be just ready to hatch. I don't suppose you know how long it takes a chicken to hatch after the egg is laid?" The boy looked at her with a frown.
"Never mind...where's the tablet? Got it. Um...how long chickens take to hatch... ah...here it is...21 days."
She walked over to the journal and looked at the date. "Yesterday was the 7th June, so any eggs put in an incubator on 12th June would have hatched a few days ago. Anyway, I plan to hit some poultry farms today if you want to come along." He nodded.
"So, your clothes are in the bathroom and the blue toothbrush is yours. As soon as you're ready we'll go. I'll look up some addresses while you do that."
She found the details of three chicken farms, one close by, one in Landsborough and another close to Caloundra. Hopefully they'd get lucky at one of the closer ones. She had no idea what they'd transport the chickens in if they found any, but hoped the farms would have something suitable.
She looked forward to the day more than usual and realised it was because she had someone to share it with.
"What I know about chooks you could write on the back of a postage stamp."
They were pulling into the second poultry farm where they were greeted with the sounds of chickens cackling.
"But at least I know what a rooster looks like. I'll grab one of those and several hens — as many as we can carry in case some die."
The boy reached for the door handle but Meg stopped him. "You need to keep those feet clean. I reckon the stuff on the floor of the sheds will be full of chook poo and things. You'd best stay here."
What Meg learned in the next half-hour or so was how hard it was to catch and handle chickens, especially if you were trying to do it carefully so as not to scare them to death. She wished the boy was able to come and help her.
At one stage she was reaching in a big metal nest to remove a hen that was sitting there, when the cacophony of noise in the immediate area quietened. She looked around to see why and noticed that the hens had moved to allow a clear path for a rooster that was running at full speed toward her legs. She screamed and jumped backward, hitting the small of her back on the nests behind her. She swore.
In the end she had one rooster and five hens in some cages she'd found in an equipment area at the front of the shed. After placing those carefully in the vehicle, she went back for eggs, collecting twenty. She wondered if she could find a way to incubate them to produce more chickens but decided it might be too hard.
As they were driving back to the house she began trying to discover some information about her new companion.
"Hey, I don't think I've told you my name yet. It's Meg. It's Margaret, really, but no-one calls me that. My boss did, though." She fell silent.
The boy looked out the window.
"So what's your name, then?"
Silence.
"Let me guess. Rudolph?" She giggled. When there was no reply, she continued. "Wally? Warren? Archibald?" No reply.
"Well, if you won't tell me I'll have to make one up and call you that. How about Adam?"
He shook his head.
She sighed and they drove the rest of the way in silence, except for the sounds of distressed chickens.
After settling the chickens and rooster into the coop, they went back into Maleny. The boy saw a sign to a shop that sold gourmet ice-cream and pointed. "Sorry, honey. They haven't had electricity for a long time. No ice-cream there."
As they passed a music shop she saw him gaze intently at the front window. "Do you play an instrument?" He just shrugged. She did a u-turn and pulled up right outside the store and then took her tools to the door and broke in.
The boy had clearly been taught the difference between right and wrong, and didn't quite know where this activity fitted in that scheme of things. "It's okay. We have special rights." His gaze fell on a guitar which he picked up quickly. "What can you play?" He strummed a few chords that sounded about right, but then seemed to lose interest. "Pick out some music — we can take it home with the guitar." He looked up with wide eyes and rummaged through the sheets quickly, picking several.
They raided a shoe store for sandals and running shoes for the boy. In another store they found some cotton socks. He stayed in the car while she went into the supermarket to find bread mix. It was time she baked some crusty loaves.
After she'd finished washing the dinner dishes she threw two big cushions onto the floor in front of the fireplace and dragged a coffee table between them. The pack of cards she'd found were the standard playing type and in good condition.
She began slowly, making one room with a roof and then adding another room. He placed the guitar against the wall, slipped off the sofa and crawled over, watching intently. She placed the card pack between them and he began copying her movements, adding to her building, but a bit clumsily so the structure soon fell. He looked at her as though checking for a reaction. She smiled and began again. Soon he had learned the subtle tricks necessary to avoid another collapse and they worked in companionable silence.
When they had finished the third story and started the fourth, she secretly moved a card at the base so the house of cards tumbled messily to the table top. She noticed his first reaction was one of mild humour, exactly what she'd been hoping for. Someone prone to temper or negativity would be hard to live with.
She slid a new D
VD into the player and they began watching a popular animated movie. After an hour or so she noticed the boy had fallen asleep. She turned the movie off and found a blanket to cover him with.
Through the night a movement in her bedroom woke her. It was the boy, lying down on the floor beside her bed. She smiled and went back to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
She let the boy sleep in for the first hour or so that she was awake. In that time she milked the cow and saw to other tasks that needed to be done daily.
When she returned to the house, she was surprised to find him awake and hunched over a map that he'd spread over the floor. He was mouthing words to himself and tracing his finger over roads heading north.
"Good morning. The cow gave us plenty of milk and the chickens seem okay, although they haven't laid any eggs."
He continued studying the map intently.
"Pancakes?"
He looked up and nodded quickly but quickly resumed looking at the map.
After breakfast she noticed him walking across to the machinery shed. He pulled the doors apart and looked into the long, dark building. He opened more doors and soon had the whole front of the shed exposed. Then he went inside.
It was an outbuilding Meg hadn't given more than a cursory glance to, so she was surprised to see the boy wheeling a motorbike from it. It was a small one — a dirt bike, she thought. He stood it on its stand and went back into the shed.
Later she saw him with what looked like an owner's manual. He was sitting beside the bike comparing pictures in the book to parts of the machine. Later she saw that he had opened the shed that housed chemicals, and had taken out some lubricants. There was a piece of material spread across the grass, some tools laid neatly on top.
He worked on the bike all day with a concentration she was surprised he possessed, given his age and sex. Before nightfall she heard him try to kick the engine over, but it wouldn't quite start. He wheeled it back into the shed, tidied up the tools and returned to the house to clean up before dinner.
In Strange Worlds Page 5