A tangle of knots twists tight in my stomach. It won’t unravel until tonight is over. I wish it was over now.
“Let’s go. It’s time,” Kenichi says to me.
My shoes have turned to cement, but I force myself to move. We sneak down the hall. Past George’s room and Lucy’s parents’ room where someone is snoring softly.
“Be careful, you two,” Lucy whispers as she unlocks the front door. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
That just about allows anything and makes me smile. I’m relieved she doesn’t make a last-minute pitch to come with us. I don’t want to argue now.
I hear the door close quietly behind me.
Kenichi pats his chest, where he’s wearing a special pouch he has to keep passports and travel documents safe, perfect for storing the fake and concealing Masaki’s photo. We decided that was the best way to make sure it didn’t get damaged.
A few days ago, I was worried about a language barrier. Tonight we don’t need words to understand each other.
Clouds cut the night sky into a mosaic of indigo and grey, shrouding Kenichi and me in loose-fitting shadows. We run in silence as I lead the way through the empty streets, past sleeping houses and shuttered shops. Even the highway is deserted. Nothing but the flap of wings, the scrunch of leaves and an occasional dog bark. Night has its own noises and neither of us want to intrude.
On the bridge, I stop to lean against the railing. The air is crisp and brittle like glass. Wind off the water is always freezing, except there’s no wind tonight. Is it my imagination, my nerves or a synth thing? I’m so nervous I can’t tell. I rub my hands together, breathing on them for warmth.
“It’s 1.21 am,” Kenichi says, as if that explains it.
It just might. A different night, a different month, decades ago but in just a few more minutes, all hell broke loose in Camp 12. An urgency builds, pushing at my back.
“Can you feel that?” I ask.
The toll of the peace bell echoes down the river, urging us forward. Who would be ringing it at this time of night?
“We need to hurry,” Kenichi says.
The timing has chosen us. I start to run, fast, and he races beside me. We don’t ease up until we reach the Visitor Centre. The noises are louder here. Trees in the car park creak and a mopoke owl relentlessly repeats its plaintive call. Night smells rich and sticky, its perfume over-sweet and ominous. I suck in my breath.
“Are you afraid?” Kenichi asks.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Once, I accidentally stole a chocolate bar. As soon as I found it in my bag, I went back and paid for it. I get agitated when things are grey.
I’m standing here, suffocating under the greyness.
I keep watch while Kenichi inserts a piece of wire into the lock. The sounds drifting over from McDonald’s remind me we’re just a short walk from being caught in the act. I wish he’d work quicker but he only practised last night after looking it up on YouTube. I shift from one foot to the other, trying to be patient. Finally, the lock clicks and opens.
“Abracadabra,” I whisper.
“Physics,” Kenichi corrects.
As the door swings open, I gag at the stench. A wave of nausea rises and the grey water in my stomach burbles. The taiko drumming erupts like a volcano exploding. More than one drum this time. A scream swells. Men are running across the Camp. Surging down the Broadway Road. Scrambling over the fences. Dropping. Rolling. Crying out.
Guards are shooting. Where is James? I search frantically but he’s nowhere I can see. Deep, rich vermillion red dances before my eyes. I gasp and my lungs fill with the red fluid. I’m drowning.
But I’m not alone.
A touch on my arm and the panic settles.
“I’m here. I can help,” Kenichi reminds me.
“There’s blood everywhere.” I shrink back. “It’s all over the walls and on the floor. I can’t go in. I can’t let it touch me. I can’t be part of this.”
Kenichi’s grip is firm, holding me in place. “What you’re seeing isn’t happening now. It’s already over. There’s nothing you can do to help them.” His voice is measured and slow, like he’s talking to a child. “Our place is here, tonight. Pass me the torch and I’ll go first.”
Soft torchlight paints the room with eerie slashes. The floorboards and walls are clean. I step inside.
“Come on,” Kenichi encourages. “We need to grab the photo and go.”
He’s right. All I have to do is lift the photo from its hook.
The knots in my stomach tighten. The air thickens. With threat. With anguish. With anger. With a blood-red undercurrent. My fingers are frozen. My arms are riveted in place. The numbers line up, shifting and reworking, calculating the probabilities. Carnage is a certainty. Death is a definite. I can’t move. Can’t speak. Men are dying, and I can’t shut my eyes to escape.
Around me, the darkness is changing. I whimper, but I’m not in pain. It’s worse than that.
Tonight is another red day.
“I can’t do this.”
Kenichi takes my hand. “You don’t have to. We do.”
The rooms spins into place. The red fades and disappears. Masaki’s aura glows soft cherry-blossom pink.
We unhook the photo from the wall together and it slides willingly into our hands, but as I remove the photo, the cheap frame drops to the floor.
A dull clatter echoes through the emptiness.
“I think I heard something,” a gruff voice says. “This door is open.”
“Turn off the light,” I whisper, scooping up the frame and shoving Kenichi towards the reception counter. I wedge myself underneath it and drag him in beside me. Why didn’t he remember to shut the door? Why didn’t I hang on to the frame properly?
I pass Kenichi the photo and he tucks it into the passport pouch.
It’s hard to breathe. My lungs want to cough and gulp air. I force a steady rhythm. Softly, softly.
“I definitely heard something, Baz. We need to go in and look around.”
Through the slats in the counter front, I watch two bulky shapes fill the now wide-open door.
A bright, powerful beam sweeps across the room and up the walls, past the space where the photo should be, past our hiding place. I hold my breath while the light continues to cut the room into stripes of darkness. They’re inside now, searching more carefully. I could reach out and touch a boot if I tried. The floor spins and the lights dim. The taiko rhythm is ominous and foreboding.
I watch as two men search the Camp perimeter, their torches picking out the bodies. Other guards gather the dead and pile them into the back of a ute. One guard has a familiar face. He’s not smiling now but I’m relieved to see he’s still alive. It’s quiet, almost peaceful. Somewhere, not too far away, Ikeda Manabu is making his way through the bush, Masaki’s photo clutched against his chest. A whimper escapes my clenched teeth.
Kenichi places one hand on mine. The drumming stops and I see Kenichi hold his finger to his lips.
The security guards move away from our hiding place.
“Nothing here, Luke. I was half hoping there’d be something to investigate. Every night we do the rounds and what’s the most interesting thing we find? Somebody forgot to close a door.”
“I prefer it quiet. That’s why I transferred to Cowra. Did I tell you about when I was working at . . .”
His partner’s groan and the click of the latch drown out his story.
We’re locked in.
As I crawl out from under the counter, Kenichi tugs me back. “Not so fast. They might still be outside.”
I count to fifty before I creep over to the door.
“I hope you can do your magic backwards and inside out,” I say.
Kenichi cuts the darkness into thin torchlight slices. “I could, except I dropped the wire. It’ll be here somewhere.”
“It could have rolled anywhere. You should have held on tighter.” The pale, narrow bea
m is useless when we’re looking for a needle in a haystack. I’m shaking, desperate to get out of here as quickly as possible. The guards might come back.
“I didn’t know I was going to need it again and I didn’t know you were going to shove me.”
“We’d be in bigger trouble if I didn’t. Although it is my fault the guards came in,” I admit. “If I didn’t drop the frame, we’d be on our way back to Lucy’s now.”
“We’ve got the photo and we didn’t get caught. The rest doesn’t matter,” Kenichi says. “Let’s hang the fake on the wall and then keep looking for the wire.” He takes the photo he took from his pouch and passes it to me.
He holds the torch steady while I slide the fake photo into the frame.
“You did a great job. Even Miss Beadle won’t notice the difference.” I place the frame on its hook and step back to admire our work. “I’m going to look through the counter drawers. Maybe there’s something there you can use to pick the lock.”
“Shh. Don’t move.” Kenichi edges up to the door and puts his ear against it.
He waves me over. I sidle up and place my ear on the door too.
Someone knocks.
We step back in unison. My heart is stuttering in my chest like a round of rifle fire. I am in so much trouble. Mum is never going to let me sleep at Lucy’s again. She’s never going to let me go anywhere again.
When the knocking stops, Kenichi places his ear against the door again. “I can still hear movement.”
I can’t hear anything over my heartbeat.
My phone beeps. Oh no, Lucy. Worst time ever to text.
why won’t you open the door
I show the screen to Kenichi.
“We’re locked in,” I call.
“Ha! I knew you’d need me. I’ve been keeping watch. I saw you go in and then security came and went, but you didn’t show so I knew something was wrong. How did you get in?”
“I picked the lock,” Kenichi says. “I don’t suppose you have a piece of wire? I dropped mine.”
“What about a safety pin? I’ve got one of those. I’ll slide it under the door.”
I pick up the safety pin and hand it to Kenichi.
In less than a minute, he has the door open. All dressed in black, surrounded by her bright pink aura, Lucy looks like a liquorice all-sort.
“You were supposed to stay out of this,” I say.
“Is that the same as ‘Thank you, Lucy. I was wrong when I said we didn’t need you?’”
“Exactly the same.” I give her a hug although I’m sure she would rather have one from Kenichi.
“Did you complete the mission?” she asks him.
“Mission complete.” Kenichi lifts his hoodie and shirt to show the pouch, nestled safe against his bare chest.
I bet Lucy enjoyed that. Almost as good as a hug.
The walk home is quiet but comfortable. There’s no need to run. I link arms with Lucy and I do something that was unimaginable a few days ago. I link arms with Kenichi too, happy to be in the middle. The moon washes us in luminous silver. The world feels new and in balance.
I know Eli would be proud of me. He always said I would do something special one day. Big brothers always say that stuff, but he was right.
“What are you grinning about?” Lucy asks.
“Everything.”
It’s still dark when I wake again. My body keeps perfect time and even though I’ve only had a few hours’ sleep, it’s ready to run. I slip out of bed and dress quickly.
“What’re you doing?” Lucy’s voice is muffled by the quilt over her head.
“Going for a run.”
She burrows in deeper. “Brrr. Too cold. Too early. Weekends are for sleeping in.”
The streets are empty except for the occasional delivery truck and a woman walking her dog. I run until the sun drags itself out of bed, stretching pale, green arms. I’m heading into Lucy’s street when my phone rings.
“Hi, Mum. This must be your earliest call ever.”
“I knew you’d be up. How was your sleepover?”
“Lots of fun. Lucy has a crush on Kenichi.”
I expect Mum to make a lame parent joke but instead there’s silence.
“Are you still there?” I ask.
“Just yawning. Grace Beadle rang me at the crack of dawn to tell me the Visitor Centre was broken into last night. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”
An imaginary clock ticks loudly and a roaring sound rushes from one ear to the other. This is one of those moments you read about in books, where the hero has to stand up and take it on the chin. No matter what the consequences might be.
I’m no hero.
“Was anything stolen?” I ask.
“Nothing at all. I can’t see why she couldn’t wait until a decent hour to ring and tell me that. It’s Saturday morning, for goodness sakes. The security firm rang her to say they found the door open and she should come straightaway and check if anything was damaged or missing. So naturally she had to ring me immediately afterwards to tell me all about it.”
“That’s what you get for being her Vice-President.”
“That woman is such a dictator. She thinks she’s in charge of everything, even me. I must admit I was relieved to know our photo was safe.”
I want to say that it’s my photo, but I can’t or Mum will know I’ve seen Nana Ruth. Inside me, my betrayal is tucked in a corner, like a time bomb waiting to explode.
“I’m relieved too. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the Cartwright family claim to fame.”
Mum laughs. “I’m impressed with the research you and Ken are doing. Grace keeps me up to date about that too. When you’ve got some free time, I’m keen to hear the details. I suppose that will be after Ken goes home. You two seem to be getting along.”
I feel even guiltier when I hear the warmth in Mum’s voice. She’s happy I’m sharing her interest, but that’s just another lie.
“We’ve found a few things in common,” I say.
“I can’t understand why anyone would want to break into the Visitor Centre,” Mum continues. “The exhibition doesn’t contain anything worth stealing.”
“Kenichi told me about the law of truly large numbers. Anything remotely possible will eventually occur.”
Mum laughs again. “That explains it then. We can’t argue with science, or is it math? Did I hear a car?”
“I’m running around Lucy’s block.”
“Be careful. Tell Alice I’ll pick you up about midday.”
I don’t like lying to Mum, but I’m fine with what Kenichi and I did to get Masaki’s photo back. Sometimes choices are all shades of grey and it’s hard to decide which to choose. Last night it was easy to make the cherry-blossom pink choice.
Kenichi and I did the right thing. You can’t steal something that you already own. Miss Beadle doesn’t need to have the original photo, but Masaki’s family do.
Mum takes a tray of biscuits from the oven. Probably the last ones I’ll see for a while. Kenichi goes home tomorrow. While he’s out taking last minute photos, I’m hanging around Mum, helping out, trying to feel less guilty.
“I’m having fun,” she says. “It’s ages since we’ve done anything like this together. We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course.”
Sometimes I get frustrated with Mum, but it’s just a parent thing. Lucy has the same problem with her mother. Even though it’s not like it is with Lucy, Mum and I are friends. I feel even guiltier. I’ve deceived her twice. Maybe there will be a time I can tell her, but it’s not now.
Mum wipes her hands on her apron. “I’m sorry things are the way they are with your nan and me. I know it’s difficult for you.”
That doesn’t help.
“If Kenichi was here just a few months earlier, he would’ve been able to spend time with his great-grandfather. If Nana Ruth dies, I’ve missed out on having her in my life. I can’t let what happened to Kenichi happen to me.”
&
nbsp; Mum passes me the plate of biscuits. “Give this batch a taste test.”
I push the plate away. “I know why you don’t speak to Nana Ruth.”
I’ve only seen my tough-as-hard-lacquered nail polish mother cry once, when Eli died. Am I bringing those memories back? I wrap my arms around her. Mum is holding me tight and her tears are wet on my T-shirt. I want to back down and promise never to see Nana Ruth so Mum will stop crying, but I can’t.
“It’s not fair to blame her.”
Mum’s sobbing slowly eases. She takes both my hands in hers. “I didn’t want to blame myself.”
“It’s not about blame, Mum. It’s not even about Eli anymore. It’s about the people who are still here – you, Nana Ruth and me.”
She sniffs. “I miss him so much, Charlie. Every time I look at you I wonder what Eli would be doing if he was your age.”
“Every time I do anything, I wish my big brother was there with me. I can’t have him back, but I can have Nana Ruth.”
“We’ll sit down and talk about this later. I promise.”
I find that hard to believe. I help Mum clean up the kitchen and pack the dishwasher.
“Do you want to come with me while I check on the sheep?” Mum stows away the biscuit-filled Tupperware container.
It’s an olive branch. Normally Mum likes to do things on her own. She says I make everything take longer. I want to be by myself.
“I’ve got a book I’d rather read. I’ll be in my room.”
She knows I’m not a reader like her. My message is loud and clear. I’m not in the mood for playing happy families anymore.
When Mum leaves, I stay in the kitchen, looking out the window to where Kenichi is sitting on the verandah, staring across the paddocks, his great-grandfather’s diary unopened in his lap.
I take my book outside to sit with him.
“When my father chose Cowra for me to visit, we argued for days and I sulked for months.” He draws circles on the stone with his fingers. “Now I’m glad I came because he was right. There were answers to be found here. Listen to what my great-grandfather wrote.”
Red Day Page 13