We stop and wait for the smoke to clear. When it does, there is no one on the other side.
‘Gone,’ I say.
‘For now,’ Steve says.
We hike back to the caves. No one speaks.
Esther heats up some soup and pours it into cups.
We sip at it.
‘We had to do it,’ Steve finally says.
‘Did we?’ Ben asks.
‘They’re murderers,’ I say to Ben. ‘Esther and I saw them in action, you didn’t.’
‘They were shooting at us,’ Steve says. ‘They made a clear statement and we responded to that statement.’
‘I wish we didn’t have to do it, but we did,’ Esther says.
‘If they can swim they might be fine,’ I add.
‘We all need to rest,’ Steve says. ‘There could be more trouble tomorrow. Maybe they’ll leave us alone now, maybe not.’
I go to the cave entrance to take the first watch. I peer through the branches, listen to the owls.
A heavy blanket has been thrown over the world. It’s as if there are no other universes, not even a sun or a moon, only this earth.
Down through the trees I see the roof of our home. But what makes a home? Not wood, not bricks; safety, surely. The year that has just passed, all the news reports, protests, referendums, were about national security, or about individual safety, but as if the threat was elsewhere. Yet the biggest danger came from our home itself, only we didn’t know what our home was. We thought it was bricks and mortar, but a home is more than that, it is land and sea and sky.
Ben comes up behind me, wraps us in a doona. We stand together looking out into the darkness. I turn into him, press my hand to his heart and feel it pulsing.
‘All our family, our friends, will we ever see them again?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will we ever meet strangers again and not be wary of them?’
‘Yes.’
‘You believe that? Really?’ I ask.
‘I want to believe it,’ he says, and kisses me.
‘I’m frightened I won’t ever be able to tell anyone about today,’ I whisper. ‘And I don’t know if I’m frightened because I’m ashamed of what we did, or if I’m frightened because I might not live to tell the tale.’
‘We will live,’ Ben says.
‘But from now on everything is different,’ I say.
‘Yes,’ he says.
The owls have stopped hooting.
A quietness settles on the earth.
We sit and pull the doona around us. Ben falls asleep. And then I fall asleep too.
Do you remember waking?
I don’t – I can’t remember.
Nada raises her right hand.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. You are coming back to consciousness. Four. Three. Two. One.
Nada opens her eyes.
She stares at the tree vismem.
You did very well, Nada.
Tell me the truth. Is there any chance of finding Ben? Of finding Esther or Steve?
We will keep looking.
I can’t remember what happened next. They were not at the caves, is that what you are telling me? I can’t remember how we got separated. But you said everything is hot. Hot? Was there a bomb?
Nada, we’ve been very careful these last few days not to say anything that may disturb you. I can now deliver some information. It will shock you. Are you ready for what I have to say?
How can I be ready? But please, speak.
The narrative you’ve been telling today, occurred to you a long time ago. The world was different then. Your mind, your brain, was rescued.
Rescued?
Your DNA and brain data, along with compressed memory function, was stored. You are now in your second life. We have given you a new body. This information will take some time for you to comprehend.
Silence.
This must be difficult to understand.
Silence.
Nada?
I died? You’re saying I died!
You’ve been through your first passing, yes.
This is not my body?
It is your body now. The medication is helping you understand that.
Was that my – did I just remember my last—
There may be more memories to come.
Where is Ben? Where is—
Ben, Esther, Steve, their data has not been identified as yet. Why and how your data was stored was not recorded. All transcripts and research materials connected to the data from that period, from this particular zone, have been lost. Giving you this second life is possible through new technologies that were only dreamt of in your time.
What happened to my home? What happened to the Hill of Peace?
We don’t know what happened. You lived in a period of great upheaval. No one lives permanently beyond Border 29 any longer.
Can I go to my home?
The air quality there is rated high risk. No one can step outside without protective clothing and oxygen tanks. Even then it is not advised.
Silence.
I’m sorry to be the one to give you this news.
This is not real. It doesn’t feel real.
Our concept of what is real is always adjusting. We are focused on making this planet a better place to live. We want to be in control of our future.
You can’t control the weather.
Much has changed since your time.
Has it?
There is so much for you to discover. We are building a story library. You are what we call a living book and an important part of the Storyworld Project. You will become famous.
Silence.
You must be exhausted. Why don’t you go to your berth now and rest? We can talk more tomorrow.
There. I feel it again. Wind.
It will all turn off automatically when we leave.
And listen, I can hear the
Bel
1998
whipbirds. It’s hard to see whipbirds because because they aren’t too big, so they can hide really well, and they like to stay hidden. They have a little black crest on top of their head, that’s how I know one when I see it. I can’t see these whipbirds though.
The clouds race above like in fast motion. They get darker and darker so I know it’s going to rain soon. Aiko calls me inside for dinner. We sit at the table but the rain pelts down so loud it drowns our talking. I can’t even hear the clink clink of cutlery. I run to the window, squash my nose against the glass and look into the dark. Hail smashes on the ground nearby. I switch on the outside light. The whole yard is covered with white ice. Then, all the lights flicker off and so does the clock on the microwave and all we hear is bang, bang, bang on the roof, which is how noisy the hail is.
Jonathan lights match after match to help Aiko find the candles and his eyes flash in the match flare. The hail stops but then it rains again so we finish our dinner with candles on the table, miming to each other because of the noisy rain. When I climb into bed it doesn’t feel like a bed because it’s shuddering because the whole house is shuddering from the rain. I go to sleep and have a dream that I’m spinning in a wave and wake with the wind hissing like a cat, lifting up bits of tin roof and smashing it down so it hurts my ears. I pull the covers tight around me but when I’ve had enough I run into Aiko and Jonathan’s room and crawl between them, their bodies like a cave. Aiko pulls a pillow over my ear and I lie facing her and she says breathe breathe and I’m really glad that she is here and I hug her and only then can I fall asleep.
The next morning the storm is over. The quiet is unbelievable. I run onto the deck. Outside is a mess. Half a tree trunk is lying in the middle of the garden, the rest of the tree is gone. Sheets of crumpled tin from the roof of our neighbour’s shed are are are jammed into the back fence. All of Aiko’s saplings for the landcare group have tipped over and there is mud all along our driveway. The lake is bubbling with foamy waves and the sky is white-grey.
We put on our gumboot
s and Jonathan leads the way to the front of the house. It goes Jonathan, Aiko, then me. On the street, there are branches everywhere. Water gushes in the gutters like a river. Insects swarm above the still pools on the road. Uncle Ray comes out from next door and stands beside me. He puts his hand on my head, like he is stopping me from flying off.
‘Who has been stirring up trouble?’ he asks.
I think he is talking about me, but when I look up, he is looking at the mountains, like the mountains are naughty kids.
‘Where’s Maxine?’ I ask.
‘She’s still hiding under the bed.’ He laughs and I think he is joking but I’m not too sure.
‘Is Jason coming over today?’
‘Not today.’
‘He hasn’t been over for ages.’
‘We have to wait for the mascara wars to be over.’
‘What if they are never over?’ I ask.
‘Oh Bel, please, give me hope for the future.’
We’re repotting the plants. Isha and Tarak pour the soil into the pots then Aiko and I place in the saplings and pat them down. Pat, pat, pat. Zeus is down the end of the garden. Every now and then he barks at a bird flying over the lake. Big fat blowflies buzz between the boards on the deck, like they’re drunk. Next week we’ll take the plants to the top of Dapto Creek, up on the mountain, and dig them into the banks. Everything the landcare group planted there last month got destroyed in the storm so we have to plant all over again. Aiko says we have to plant more trees in the world otherwise we are all going to hell in a billycart, which means we are going really fast riding down a hill towards our doom.
The day is steamy. Jonathan sits on the back doorstep, the weekend paper before him like a map. He reads out newspaper headings that sound like movie blockbusters.
‘The Gingerbread Boys. Four Days in March. Great Celebrations. Here’s an interesting one,’ he says, ‘Mystery Skeleton.’
Aiko pulls a face. ‘Sounds gruesome.’
Jonathan says, ‘No, it’s an ancient skeleton. Found over at Sandon Point, after the storm.’
‘That’s not far away,’ says Isha.
‘An archaeological dig has been set up to gauge the age,’ says Jonathan. ‘And guess what?’
‘What?’ I say.
‘Our neighbour is the Koori consultant.’
‘Uncle Ray?’ Aiko says.
‘Yep,’ Jonathan says.
‘Can we go see the the the archaeological dig?’ I ask.
Isha and Tarak chorus after me, ‘Can we, can we?’
‘It’ll be roped off from the public,’ Jonathan says.
But we go can we can we and Aiko finally says yes, as soon as we’ve finished repotting the plants.
At the beach where the archaeological dig is, the cars on the esplanade are bumper-to-bumper. We park seven or ten streets back. Isha, me and Tarak run ahead. Aiko and Jonathan follow with Zeus on a leash. At the shore the waves are so big they look like collapsing mountains and when the water crashes onto the sand it splashes up into frothy bubbles.
Everything is wild.
There’s a huge tent covering the actual dig and it is roped off. Protesters are standing by the roped off bit, staring at the tent, and surfers with real surfboards are standing there too. The protesters hold like like cardboard signs. One sign says, This is a sacred site. Another one says, Don’t desecrate our sacred sites. There’s two, maybe six policemen lined up near them. A boy is sitting on the sandhill playing clapping sticks. He’s wearing pink jeans with lace on the side. There’s a news crew filming him. One woman is holding a microphone. She’s talking to the camera and walking along in front of the surfies who are making peace signs with their fingers. Two fingers held up in a V means peace.
Isha pushes through the protesters to the rope. Me and Tarak follow. We see Uncle Ray step out of the tent. Uncle Ray doesn’t hear us when we shout at him, maybe because the sea is noisy or maybe because he is calling to an old man who is standing by the water’s edge looking at the horizon. The old man is small but you can tell he is old because he has grey hair. He looks like a tough old hawk. He has a cool leather jacket on, like Lenny-the-biker’s jacket. There’s an Aboriginal flag on the back, in the spot where Lenny’s has a skull.
Uncle Ray calls out to the old man again but a whooshing wind blows sand up and over the beach, like in a sandstorm. Everyone covers their faces with their hands or with a jumper or something. The sand settles but the old man keeps his arm raised like he is waving goodbye to a friend. Slowly slowly he turns away from the sea and walks to the tent. I’ve never seen anyone walk so slow.
When he is near to Uncle Ray he moves his hands through the air in front of him, quick, like a secret signal. I see Uncle Ray nod his head, and then Uncle Ray’s hand moves, but only like a flick up, and then they both go inside the tent.
‘See,’ Jonathan says, when he and Aiko and Zeus have jostled through the crowd. ‘I was right. You can’t see a thing.’
But I have seen something. I’ve seen Uncle Ray and the old man speak without using their voices, like how deaf people speak. It’s a secret language but it’s in front of everyone.
Isha, me and Tarak sit on the front fence waiting for Uncle Ray to come home from the dig. After forever and forever, we see his ute turn into the street. He pulls up in front of his house. We run to him.
‘Hey Uncle Ray,’ I call, as he steps from the car.
Isha hops from one foot to the other. ‘Is it a man or a woman?’
Uncle Ray jingles his keys. ‘What?’ he asks.
‘The skeleton,’ Isha says.
‘Ah. Kuradji,’ Uncle Ray says.
‘What’s that?’ we chorus.
‘A clever man,’ Uncle Ray says.
Isha stops hopping.
Kuradji Kuradji it has a good sound to it.
I ask Uncle Ray how he knows the skeleton is clever, like like like is there a brain still inside.
Uncle Ray keeps jingling his keys.
‘Because of what’s buried with him,’ Uncle Ray says. ‘But some of his things, I reckon, are missing.’
‘What things?’ I ask.
‘Some weapons.’
‘Like an axe?’ I ask.
Uncle Ray looks at me. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asks.
‘We looked it up,’ Isha says, and kicks me in the shins.
‘Ow!’ I say.
‘What’s going on?’ Uncle Ray asks.
‘Nothing,’ I say.
I’m bursting to tell him about Kristie’s axe that we hid in the caves but I know that I can’t. Sometimes it’s really really hard to keep secrets. But what if the axe belongs to the Kuradji?
‘Who was that old man you were with at the tent?’ I ask.
‘Which old man?’ he asks.
‘The one with the leather coat like Lenny’s,’ I say.
‘That’s Tom. He knows a lot about sacred sites. He’s an important man because he can tell us what things really mean. Only not everyone is willing to listen.’
‘Why not?’ I ask.
We stand in front of Uncle Ray, looking up at him. He is quite tall.
‘There’s a company that wants to build a beachside estate,’ he says. ‘Right at the spot where they found the Kuradji. This company could lose a lot of money if they stop to listen to what old Tom has to say.’
‘Who will they listen to?’ Isha asks.
‘I wish I knew the answer to that,’ Uncle Rays says.
Tarak puts up his hand, like in school. ‘How old is the Kuradji?’
Uncle Ray taps his fingers on Tarak’s cheek like it’s a drum.
‘Old,’ Uncle Ray says.
‘Older than MP?’ Tarak asks.
The sides of Uncle Ray’s mouth almost go into a smile but don’t. Our neighbour MP is the oldest person in the street, eighty-seven or two hundred next September, but she still gardens every day and writes her book. We call her MP because she was once a minister in parliament.
‘Oh, ma
ybe a little bit older than MP,’ Uncle Ray says. ‘Could be five thousand years old, maybe more.’
‘That’s old,’ I say.
‘But Bel,’ Uncle Ray says, ‘remember how you told me that dragonflies are three million years old.’
‘Yeah,’ I say.
‘And remember too, this land here, this land you’re standing on, how ancient it is. Compared to this land, five thousand years is like a baby.’
‘It’s hard to see time,’ I say.
‘Look at the clock,’ Isha says.
‘Old time, I mean.’
‘See that lake there,’ Uncle Ray says, looking along the side of his house to the water. ‘That was here before any of us, and the creek that runs down from the mountain into the lake, that was here too, and the mountain, and the trees, and the birds. We’re part of their story, not the other way around.’
‘Like they were here first,’ I say.
‘You got it, like they were here first,’ Uncle Ray says. ‘But it’s our job to look after all this land around here. If we don’t, bad things can happen.’
I wonder what bad things might happen, but before I can ask, Maxine comes to the front door of her house and calls out to Uncle Ray, telling him to get inside and eat his bloody dinner that she spent all bloody afternoon cooking while he was gallivanting around pretending to be a warrior hero.
The next day Isha, me, Tarak and Zeus go out on the raft, searching for bones that might have washed up in the storm. Isha says that a Kuradji can find a murderer. How he would do it is he would talk to the dead spirit on the way to being buried, or he would look around the body of the dead person and see things about the murderer. Then he would eat stones and he could kill the murderer just by thinking strong thoughts. We don’t find any bones or dead people so we raft out to the middle of the lake and lie back on the wooden slats, with Zeus as our pillow. We let the raft drift and stare up at the clouds like we did the first day we met Kristie.
Storyland Page 19