Wicked Bindup

by Paul Jennings

  I got into the car. Gramps revved the engine and started doing a forty-nine-point turn. The other kids were staring at us and gabbling excitedly and yelling things.

  Howard was standing very still. He looked scared and confused.

  Gramps finally got the car pointing the right way. Just before we shuddered off down the road, Howard clambered in.

  It was incredible. He was almost identical to Rory. Bigger, but a dead ringer. And he was holding an apple-man that was a dead ringer for Rory’s apple-man.

  ‘Welcome to the family,’ I said.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. He didn’t sound too sure about it. ‘You know,’ he continued, ‘people who suffer from crazy ideas about, say, killer snails and giant worms and steel sheep can get treatment. I can give Rory the name of a child psychiatrist.’

  ‘I think,’ I said, ‘you’d better keep your head down.’

  Howard ducked out of sight. I peered anxiously through the dusty windscreen. The street was empty. No sign of Rory.

  I had a sick feeling in my stomach. What if he got lost? What if the infection wiped his memory and he forgot who he was and where he lived? The thought of Rory ill and lonely made my eyes prick.

  ‘Perhaps he’s gone for a milkshake,’ said Gramps. ‘Can you see any milk bars?’

  ‘I don’t think he wanted a milkshake, Gramps,’ I muttered.

  ‘A burger?’ asked Gramps hopefully

  I sighed. The infection might be vicious and unstoppable, but at least it didn’t seem to have made Gramps any worse.

  Then I saw Rory ahead in the distance. He was turning down a side road. By the time we got there he was out of sight again. We skidded round the corner with Gramps flailing at the wheel and complaining about the stress on his suspension. After a few minutes I saw Rory again, heading out of town into the scrub.

  When we caught up with him, he was crouched by the road, gasping for breath and rubbing his bad leg.

  I gasped too. He looked worse than ever. The purple blotches were starting to come down his other arm. They must have spread right across his chest.

  I leaped out of the car and went over to him. I put my face close to his. ‘I’m sorry I said that stuff about the infection turning Gramps into a monster,’ I said quietly. ‘You’re not a monster, okay?’

  Rory didn’t look up. ‘Why did the infection get me first?’ he whispered miserably. His eyes flicked towards Howard. ‘Why not him?’

  Howard was standing watching us. ‘If that’s an allergy,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen something a bit like it before. Similar but not as bad. There’s a kid in the home who’s allergic to food colouring and offal.’

  I turned to him. ‘Keep quiet,’ I said, ‘and you might learn something.’

  ‘Whoo,’ said Howard, amused. ‘You’re pretty young to be a school principal. Does your dad work for the Department of Education?’

  I ignored him. This was exactly what I’d always feared having an older brother would be like.

  The pits.

  I turned back to Rory. Gramps was hugging him and promising him ridiculous numbers of milkshakes and burgers.

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t feel good about what I was going to say, but it had to be said.

  ‘Rory,’ I began, ‘the snail wasn’t going after your dad, it was going after your brother, right?’

  ‘Give her a gold medal,’ snorted Rory.

  ‘Remember what we said,’ I continued gently. ‘We know your father’s involved with the infection one way or the other. If he’s not the next target, he must be the one who sent it in the first place.’

  ‘You said, not we said,’ hissed Rory angrily. ‘You were the one who said that.’

  His face was starting to change. Whatever anger did to the infection, it was happening now. His face was shrivelling and twisting and distorting.

  I glanced at Howard, whose own face was pretty distorted too. With amazement.

  I pressed on. ‘It is possible your dad’s behind all this. Until we know for sure we’ve got to be careful, that’s all. For your sake and your mum’s sake and all our sakes.’

  Rory’s face was hardly recognisable.

  I looked at Howard again. He was staring at Rory, stunned, and I could tell that all of a sudden giant worms and steel sheep didn’t seem quite so dopey,

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ spat Rory, glowering at me. ‘You’re just jealous that both my parents are still alive.’

  I felt fury wrench my own face out of shape and I turned away before I did or said something I’d regret even more than bringing Howard along.

  ‘My dad’s not evil,’ continued Rory. ‘When we find him, you’ll see.’ Suddenly he was yelling at me. ‘You’ll see.’

  I stared at him, my own step-brother who I wouldn’t have recognised even if he had a name tag on. This stranger was the one person in the world who could help me find out the truth about my mum’s death. I felt ill.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Gramps was saying, furiously polishing his glasses and peering anxiously at Rory. ‘We’ll go and find your dad tomorrow.’

  ‘No,’ said Howard.

  We all turned and stared at him. His eyes were shining and he looked different too. Kind of determined and almost grown-up in a bossy sort of way. I had to admit that the times I’d imagined having a big brother, he did have big brown eyes like Howard’s.

  ‘Tomorrow’s too long to wait,’ said Howard. ‘I want to go and find my dad now.’

  THREE

  The approaching night had already begun to swallow the sun. Gramps, Big Bad Dawn, Howard and I scrambled into the Morris Minor. I sat next to Gramps. Dawn and Howard snuggled down in the back seat. We were so tired. A lot had happened in just one day.

  There should have been a lot to say. But we just sat there wrapped in our own thoughts as Gramps drove us through the darkness. Each one of us was carrying a different sadness.

  I wanted to find my father. I didn’t believe that he had sent slobberers to get me. I thought the germs were after him. The snail had been going for Howard. Now that it was gone, Howard might be safe. But Dad could be in danger at this very moment.

  I couldn’t tell what Howard was thinking. He had just met me and found out that I was his brother. And I had told him that the mother he had never met was seriously ill in hospital. And his father was in peril. The poor kid. He must have been going through hell.

  And Dawn. She wanted desperately to know what happened the day her mum died on the bus. I wished that I could remember. I would have told her if I could.

  And Gramps. He just couldn’t work out what was real and what wasn’t. But his daughter had drowned in the bus. He must have wanted to know what happened to her as much as Dawn did.

  Sometimes Gramps said a lot of silly things. And at other times, a lot of wise things. But mostly he just kept his thoughts to himself. I had the feeling that there was a lot more going on inside his head than he let on.

  Finally Dawn spoke up. In a loud voice as usual. ‘The snail was after Howard,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t interested in Rory’s dad at all.’

  ‘Why not?’ I said.

  ‘Because he’s not related to your mum.’

  ‘They used to be married,’ I yelped. ‘In the good old days before step … families. You can’t get much more related than that.’

  Dawn shook her head in exasperation. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But Eileen is not a blood relative. People are not even allowed to marry a blood relative. Your father is not related to your mother by blood.’

  She was right. I hated to admit it but she was right.

  ‘So,’ said Dawn. ‘There’s no sense in rushing off looking for your dad, thinking you’ve got to save him. He doesn’t need saving.’

  ‘But we still want to find him,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’

  Howard answered the question for me. ‘Because he is our dad,’ he said quietly.

  That shut Dawn up for a bit. But only for a bit.

  ‘He sent both apple-men,
’ said Dawn, looking at Howard’s where it sat between them. ‘Karl knows something about this disease. The slobberer spelt out his name. But how are we going to work out where he is?’

  ‘Good point,’ said Gramps. ‘Where’s the compass?’

  ‘You ate it,’ I reminded him.

  Gramps shook his head. ‘I’m old and tired,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I must have been bloomin’ hungry to eat a compass. I wonder if the magnet will pass straight through.’

  We all lapsed back into silence. Dawn didn’t really want to find our dad. She just wanted to stay with me till I remembered what happened on the bus the night her mum died. That’s the only reason she was interested in me.

  Gramps suddenly put his foot on the brake and pulled over next to a small clump of trees. It was completely dark outside. Night noises filled the air. Crickets chirped. Gum leaves rustled gently in the trees above. Somewhere nearby a wallaby bounded through the bush.

  ‘No point wasting petrol,’ said Gramps. ‘We haven’t got much so we’d better decide where we are going.’

  Suddenly a splatter of liquid splashed across the windscreen and bonnet. Gramps jumped out and looked up into the branches above. ‘A possum,’ he yelled. ‘A rotten possum is piddling on us.’ He started wiping at the bonnet with his sleeve. ‘Terrible stuff,’ he yelled. ‘Really eats into the paintwork.’

  We all started to laugh like mad. Suddenly, for just a few minutes, we were not step-kids or adopted kids or jealous kids. We were just three friends laughing at something funny in the night.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Dawn. She stopped laughing and stared at Howard’s apple-man. ‘Let’s have a look at your apple-man, Rory.’

  I switched on the yellow roof light and took out my ugly little doll.

  Both apple-men had been loved to bits. They were worn and flattened from being shoved inside our pockets.

  ‘Mine came in the mail one day, years ago,’ said Howard. ‘The package was posted in the city.’

  ‘So was mine,’ I shouted. ‘Maybe that’s where Dad lives.’

  Dawn examined the two shrivelled-up dolls closely. ‘The clothes are home-made,’ she said excitedly. ‘There’s no labels on them.’

  She was right.

  The stitching was crooked and loose. Not like the sort of thing done in a factory. Both apple-men had the same navy-blue jacket and pants. The clothes were exactly the same – except for one thing. Mine had the letters AMP sewn on to the pocket.

  ‘AMP. That doesn’t make sense,’ I said.

  Howard stared at his apple-man. It had the letters ACO sewn on to the pocket. He said it aloud and frowned. ‘That doesn’t mean anything either,’ he said.

  ‘Jeez,’ said Dawn. ‘You can tell you two are related. Can’t you work anything out? Both uniforms were made from the same bit of material. Put the letters together.’

  ‘ACOAMP,’ I said. ‘That doesn’t mean anything, smartypants.’

  Gramps was still outside picking something off the bonnet of the Morris Minor. He finally stopped and got back into the driver’s seat.

  ‘Try it the other way around,’ said Dawn.

  ‘AMPACO,’ said Howard. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An oil refinery,’ said Gramps. ‘That’s where Karl used to work.’

  ‘What?’ we all screamed at once. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘There was a reason,’ said Gramps. ‘I know there was a reason why I didn’t mention it. But I can’t remember what it was. Oh, yes. When they shut down …’

  ‘Hey,’ shouted Dawn. ‘Look at your apple-man, Rory. It’s changing.’ Everyone stared.

  ‘It looks the same to me,’ said Howard.

  ‘No,’ said Dawn. ‘It’s grown fingers.’

  I hugged my apple-man close to my chest. Dawn tried to grab him but I held on tight.

  ‘They’re funny fingers,’ said Dawn. ‘No fingernails. She touched one of the little fingers and then pulled her hand away. ‘Yuck,’ she said. ‘They feel like, like … a bit of worm or something.’

  I peered inside the apple-man’s blue uniform. The fingers were actually shoots growing out of the apple itself. They ran down inside the sleeves and out of the cuffs.

  ‘Did it always have fingers?’ asked Howard.

  ‘No,’ said Dawn. ‘We’d better get rid of it. Fast.’

  I hugged my apple-man even tighter to my chest. Those little apple-dolls were all we had to remind us of our Dad. There was no way I was going to throw mine out.

  ‘Why does he have to get rid of it?’ said Howard in a strained voice.

  ‘Could be a spy,’ said Gramps. ‘Spies are always shot when they’re caught.’

  ‘There could be more slobberers in it,’ said Dawn.

  ‘There aren’t,’ I yelled. ‘They’ve all gone. The apple’s just started to grow a bit. So what? I’ve seen potatoes do it too. It’s just an apple with a few suckers.’

  ‘Listen, kids,’ said Howard. ‘I really can’t believe all this stuff about slobberers. I’m not throwing my apple-man out and I don’t think Rory should have to either.’

  Dawn started to punch the seat. ‘You two,’ she shouted. ‘Are so … so …’

  We all knew that she was trying not to swear.

  Gramps tried to calm her down. He passed over a grubby piece of newspaper. ‘These’ll cheer you up,’ he said. ‘Anyone like a chocolate-coated almond?’

  Dawn glared at Gramps’ little offerings of peace. Then she grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth.

  I looked at the paper carefully. ‘No thanks,’ I said politely.

  Dawn screamed and jumped out of the car. She started spitting and coughing as if she was choking.

  ‘You knew,’ she screamed at me. ‘You rotten fink. You knew.’

  ‘What’s up with her?’ said Howard.

  This time I did laugh. I laughed like crazy.

  ‘Possums,’ I said. ‘They don’t just do pee, you know.’

  FOUR

  We decided to camp for the night. It was my idea. I wanted to show Worm Boy that it took more than a mouthful of possum poo to stop my brain working.

  ‘I reckon,’ I said, ‘we should sleep here instead of driving on and getting even more tired and skidding off the road and rolling the car and being killed.’

  Nobody argued with that.

  Rory showed that he still had a working brain too, which was a relief. The way he’d cacked himself over Gramps’ chocolate almond mix-up, I’d started to worry that the infection and lack of sleep was turning his brain into that stuff they use for kitchen sponges.

  Suddenly he went serious. ‘I reckon,’ he said. ‘Howard should sleep in the car.’

  Nobody argued with that either. Including Howard, even though he was the tallest so the car was going to be more uncomfortable for him than anyone else. We all knew leg cramps were better than sleeping under the stars and being exposed to possible attacks by relentless and vicious microbes.

  As Rory and Gramps were getting out of the car, Howard cleared his throat. ‘Thanks for bringing me along,’ he said. ‘I’d rather meet my real parents and risk snuffing it than be stuck in that home.’

  Rory’s eyes shone. He looked more like himself than he had for hours. ‘In this family,’ he said, ‘we don’t leave brothers behind.’

  It was a nice thing to say, even though up until that afternoon it hadn’t exactly been true.

  ‘Tosh,’ said Gramps to Howard. ‘A healthy young bloke like you shouldn’t be talking about death. You’ll probably be getting married soon.’

  Howard’s cheeks went pink. ‘I’m only fifteen,’ he said.

  It made me feel funny inside seeing Howard blush. Sort of warm.

  Then I had an awful thought. Did they put fifteen year olds in jail? Kids who ran off from homes probably got into big trouble. I asked Howard what would happen if the police or social workers caught him.

  ‘It wouldn’t be pretty,’ said Howard. ‘I’d pro
bably be history.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Howard,’ I said, ‘we’ll look after you.’ It felt strange saying that to an older kid, but Howard gave me a grateful smile.

  ‘I’m starving,’ said Rory to Gramps. ‘It’s okay for you and Dawn, you’ve eaten, but me and Howard haven’t had anything.’

  ‘Very funny,’ I said.

  ‘I did have a chocolate cake in the boot,’ said Gramps thoughtfully. ‘But that was a couple of years ago.’ He had an idea. ‘We could catch that possum and roast it.’

  Rory said he wasn’t that hungry after all.

  ‘Oh well,’ said Gramps, ‘at least we’ve got some water.’ We all perked up. ‘In the car radiator,’ he said. We all groaned.

  Gramps promised us he hadn’t bunged in any antirust chemicals, so we had a couple of mouthfuls each. It was better than nothing.

  We built a camp fire. Then we dragged Gramps’ old tarpaulin and blankets out of the boot and made up beds on the ground and one in the car.

  ‘G’night,’ said Howard with another grateful smile as we shut him in.

  After shifting some rocks from under my blanket and staring into the camp fire for a bit and thinking about curried-egg sandwiches with chips, I tried to go to sleep.

  Even though I was exhausted, it wasn’t easy. The blanket smelled of car oil and the hot rusty water had only taken away about one-quarter of the taste of the possum poo.

  Plus I was worried about Gramps. What if the snail was stronger than Gramps’ digestive juices? What if it was swimming around inside him spreading the disease? An old person might not be able to survive an infection like that.

  The bush was alive with strange noises. I listened fearfully. Then I told myself to calm down. The slobberers and the sheep and the frogs were all dead. The only way another creature could get infected and come after us was if the hospital people didn’t keep Eileen in quarantine properly.

  I hoped the sheets of plastic across the hospital corridor didn’t have as many holes in them as Gramps’ blanket.

  Thinking about Eileen made me think of Dad. Was he still in hospital with his bung leg? Or was he out in the night somewhere, worried and angry, searching for us with the police and State Emergency Service? I rolled over, scraped my pelvis on a rock I’d missed and wished remote bush camping spots had phone boxes.