Into the Wild

by Anh Do

  First published by Allen & Unwin in 2019

  Text copyright © Anh Do, 2019

  Illustrations by Jeremy Ley, 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: info@allenandunwin.com

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  ISBN 978 1 76052 509 5

  eISBN 978 1 76087 159 8

  Cover design by Jo Hunt and Jeremy Ley

  Text design by Jo Hunt

  Set by Jo Hunt

  For Summer, Leon, Luc and Xavier, and for Ben and Freddie, a bunch of awesome kids

  Anh

  For Tess

  Adventure despite adversity.

  Love, your adventurer buddy,

  Jem

  1 Into the Night

  2 Lost

  3 Gold

  4 Molly

  5 The River

  6 Running with the Dogs

  7 The Cars

  8 Old Sandwiches

  9 Along the Road

  10 Our First Hunt

  11 Dinner

  12 Many Tomorrows

  13 Eep, Eep

  14 Wolf Girl

  15 Into the Skies

  16 Then and Now

  17 The Locket

  18 Sunrise

  19 Aftermath

  20 Aeroplane

  21 People

  ‘Gwen, wake up! Wake up now!’

  Mum was shaking me hard. Too hard. Her knuckles were white as she gripped my shoulders.

  I felt like crying out, but I didn’t. Maybe because Mum’s voice was filled with fear.

  Instead, I did what I was told. I sat up.

  ‘We have to move fast! They’re coming!’

  I jumped out of bed and pulled on some clothes. It was still dark but everyone was up. Outside I could hear neighbours screaming, horns beeping, people crying.

  I followed Mum to the kitchen and watched her tip the entire contents of my schoolbag onto the floor. My tin pencil case clanged open, but Mum didn’t even seem to care. I wanted to complain, but I was too afraid.

  Mum then filled up my bag with food. Behind her, I saw Dad go out the front door with a heavy load of suitcases.

  ‘Take this to your father,’ Mum said, handing me my schoolbag.

  I ran outside to find Dad shoving cases into the car. I gave him my schoolbag and he flung it on top of a pile in the boot.

  ‘Stay calm, Gwen,’ he told me, although he didn’t sound calm himself. He turned back to the house. ‘Come on,’ he muttered. ‘Hurry up.’

  A car blared its horn, then swerved around a van and sped away.

  Mum and my big sister Kate emerged from the house and ran towards our car. It was strange, though – Mum didn’t even stop to shut the front door.

  ‘Everyone in!’ Dad shouted.

  Kate and I were worried because Dad rarely raised his voice.

  We piled into the car and took off into the night.

  As we drove out of town, the road ahead was packed with cars. Cars that were full of bags, full of people, full of kids, some younger than me, some older. All staring out their windows. It was like we were all going on a big group holiday. Except no one was smiling.

  We sped along with the other cars for what seemed like a very long time. Later, the road led into a forest, winding through banks of shadowy trees.

  ‘Where are we going, Mum?’ I finally asked.

  ‘Girls, try to close your eyes,’ Mum replied, her voice shaky. ‘Have a little rest.’

  ‘Why did we have to leave?’ Kate asked. Kate had just turned eleven and had always been curious about everything.

  Mum didn’t answer.

  I looked across at Kate, who shrugged.

  Soon Kate piped up again. ‘Can we play that game where you think of countries beginning with different letters?’

  ‘Not now, Kate,’ said Mum.

  I was relieved. I hated that game. The last time we played it, I’d taken ages to think of a country starting with ‘B’ – I wasn’t sure if ‘Belgium’ was a country or a city.

  Afterwards, Dad had said to me, ‘Gwen, sweetheart, you need to trust your instincts more.’

  He was always saying that to me. ‘Follow your instincts.’

  As I watched Dad driving the car now though, he seemed really unsure.

  Kate must have sensed it too, because she didn’t ask any more questions for the rest of the trip. Instead, we all sat in silence as we drove for hours, deep into the forest, down an unfamiliar road that seemed to go on forever.

  I stared out the window and saw nothing but trees on both sides for miles and miles.

  Suddenly I heard a distant explosion.

  ‘What was that?’ I said.

  Mum looked across at Dad.

  I heard it again. This time a little louder.

  Dad stepped hard on the accelerator and the car lurched forward at an even greater speed.

  ‘Dad, you’re going too fast!’ Kate screeched.

  ‘Shush! It’s fine!’ snapped Dad.

  Normally really calm, Dad’s tone did nothing to reassure us.

  Then, after a moment Dad turned around to look at Kate. ‘I’m sorry, honey, we just have to—’

  We’d run right into the back of a truck.

  I hit my head against the back of Dad’s seat. Mum screamed. Kate started crying.

  ‘Is everyone alright?’ croaked Dad.

  He turned around to check on us and we nodded frantically.

  In front of us were what looked like a hundred cars. All stopped, all lined up along the road, which wound up a dark mountain.

  ‘We should have left earlier!’

  cried Mum, her face white.

  In the distance we could hear a series of thunderous cracking sounds.

  ‘Everyone out of the car, now!’ Dad shouted.

  Kate and I froze. We didn’t know what to do. I stared through our cracked windscreen at a big blue moon on the back of the truck we’d just crashed into.

  Mum also sat there, quiet and still, while Dad jumped out of the car and ran around the back to drag our things out of the boot.

  The thundering noises grew louder.

  Mum turned to us, her face red and wet with tears.

  ‘Girls. Mummy loves you very much. Are you listening to me?’

  She leant into the back and shook my shoulder.

  ‘Listen to me, Gwen! I need you both to run. Mummy and Daddy will be right behind you, but you must run and run and not look back. And even if we don’t keep up, you just keep running. You hear me?’

  Kate and I stared at her.

  ‘You hear me, girls?!’ She was yelling now. ‘Promise me, girls! Promise you’ll keep going!’

  ‘Okay,’ I cried.

  Dad opened the door and pulled me and Kate out. He threw us our schoolbags and gave us each a shove.

  ‘Go!’

  We started running.

  Other families were running now too. All these families, just like ours, scrambling out of their cars, clutching whatever they could carry, and running as fast as they could over the grassy field that lay bet
ween the cars and the tree canopy beyond.

  I glanced over my shoulder – Dad was lugging two suitcases and Mum clutched a small pack to her chest, gripping Kate’s hand as she ran.

  The field ahead was filled with clover, and for a moment a small part of me wondered whether there was one with four leaves, for luck.

  Then I heard a high-pitched sound.

  It got louder and louder as the shadow of a plane fell over us.

  Then suddenly—

  A massive explosion sent us all slamming to the ground. Smoke filled the air.

  ‘RUN!’ cried Dad, as he struggled to his feet.

  Mum was helping Kate, who had fallen over.

  ‘RUN, GWEN! Keep going! You promised! Run!’

  Without even thinking, I started to run again.

  I looked back to see if my family was behind me, but couldn’t make them out amongst the swirling smoke. I wanted to stop and go back, but all I could hear was Mum’s voice begging me to keep going. Something inside me told me to do as she said – maybe this was the instinct Dad always told me to follow?

  So that’s what I did.

  I ran and ran, leaping over clumps of grass through the smoky field.

  I usually loved running. Ever since I was a little girl I would run in the fields behind our home, sprinting past the cows and the horses. Sometimes I’d even run with Dad through the woods. He was a good runner too – and I loved how he always pretended to lose when he raced me.

  There were strange sounds in the air now. People crying, the smell of smoke.

  When I reached the treeline and plunged into the forest a branch snagged my sleeve, but I snapped past it.

  I had to slow though, as the light from the road disappeared, and the world darkened.

  Making my way through the forest, the shadowy trees seemed to grow taller until they loomed all around me, but still I ran, spurred on by the promise I’d made Mum and the sound of explosions behind me.

  At last, the sounds started to fade.

  I was also getting tired. Very, very tired.

  During our runs, Dad had always taught me to breathe deeply when exhaustion was setting in. ‘Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out,’ he’d say, ‘focus on where your feet land.’

  I don’t know how long I ran for but his words echoed in my head with every step. It felt like hours before I noticed my hands were shaking and everything around me was starting to spin . . .

  That’s when I slipped and hit my head on a rock.

  I woke to darkness. How long had I been asleep, I wondered? A few hours? More? I touched the side of my head where it throbbed and felt something sticky. I looked down at my hand and, as my eyes adjusted to the moonlight finding its way through the treetops, I saw flecks of dark dried blood.

  Where was my family?

  I yelled.

  I started to cough so hard that my throat hurt. Still, I kept yelling until my mouth was so dry I couldn’t call out anymore.

  ‘What’s the number one thing you have to remember after you go for a run?’ Dad always asked me.

  ‘Drink plenty of water,’ I’d answer.

  Water. I needed water.

  I opened my schoolbag. Biscuits. Cheese.

  Dried beef jerky . . . yuck! I hated dried beef! I unzipped the side compartment in hope.

  Mum had forgotten to empty it, so I had a pencil sharpener, two erasers, some markers, even my favourite Winnie the Pooh scissors . . . but no water.

  Where do I find water?

  All I could see around me was trees. Big trees against a sky that was purple and slowly turning pink. The moon was still out, but it looked like morning was coming.

  I got up slowly and checked myself over. My arms and legs were scratched and sore, and my head ached a bit, but I was okay. Was I out of danger? Maybe there were other people nearby?

  I listened carefully for anything – a waterfall, a stream, the crunch of a footfall on leaves. All I could hear were birds. Which way should I go? Which way did I need to go to find water?

  Maybe back to where I last saw Mum and Dad?

  I tried to figure out which direction I’d come from, but as I looked left and right, it all looked exactly the same. Trees and trees and more trees. The only thing I could think to do was to follow the sound of the birds.

  As I walked, the trees started getting bigger and the forest became more dense. Above me the sky began to turn bright orange.

  Still no water.

  Just then my arm brushed something wet. The big leaves on the new trees were covered with dew.

  I had an idea. I’d lick the dewdrops off the leaves!

  It tasted a bit funny at first, but I didn’t care. I started folding the leaves and pouring tiny droplets onto my tongue. I was still thirsty, but at least my mouth wasn’t completely dry anymore.

  Before I knew it, the sun was up, casting hot rays down on me and drying up all the dew.

  Suddenly I wanted my parents more than ever.

  They’d be worried about me, wondering where in the world I was.

  Instinctively, I reached inside my shirt and hunted for my necklace.

  Before the war began, Dad gave us all matching lockets. Inside each locket was a tiny photo of our family – the four of us together, happy and smiling on Christmas Day. Ever since, we’d all worn our lockets on a leather necklace wherever we went.

  Mine meant everything to me. And now, when I really needed to see my family’s faces, I was glad to have it. As my hand reached inside my shirt, though, I had the most horrible realisation.

  The locket was gone.

  I screamed.

  My throat hurt and my head pounded but I didn’t care. I just wanted my family. I was angry. Angry and lonely and confused. Why had I kept running the day before? Why hadn’t I turned back to be with my family? Stupid instincts! I shouldn’t have listened to them at all – they had caused me to become separated and all alone. I was so angry at myself.

  I screamed even louder this time.

  A few birds flew out of the trees and suddenly I saw something strange.

  A flash of golden-yellow in the undergrowth.

  A furry something. An animal? I stopped short.

  At first I thought I was imagining it. Then I saw it again.

  What was it? A rabbit? No, it seemed bigger than a rabbit.

  Slowly, I crept towards the moving shape.

  And then I saw her. All of her.

  She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. A puppy, golden as a sunrise, with eyes a brilliant turquoise. She had a black patch in the shape of a diamond on her forehead.

  She turned to look at me.

  We froze and gazed into each other’s eyes. Her eyes were so bright that for a moment I felt myself stop breathing.

  Then she ran off.

  I ran after her.

  As I ran I felt a strange excitement. I forgot my aches and pains, I forgot I’d lost my locket, I even forgot the worry of not knowing where my family was.

  She was fast, and I was exhausted, but every flash of golden fur ahead gave me energy to keep running.

  I was getting closer, too. Sometimes she would stop and I would almost catch her, but then she would take off again.

  Finally, she stopped completely, and with some effort I caught up to her, puffing and panting.

  ‘Hi there,’ I managed to gasp, out of breath from our chase.

  I was still leaning over, trying to catch my breath, in fact, when I realised she’d led me to a fast-flowing river!

  I hurried down to the water’s edge and drank and drank, scooping all I could into my mouth. As if imitating me, the puppy started drinking too.

  ‘Puppy!’ I spluttered, between mouthfuls of water.

  She looked at me curiously.

  ‘Puppy! Thank you!’

  She put her head down and wagged her tail. I started walking over to her, and she turned and walked away. Then slowly, slowly she let me get closer.

&nbs
p; I reached into my bag and pulled out a half-eaten hunk of cheese.

  ‘Here you go.’

  She crept over and sniffed it.

  ‘You don’t like cheese?’ I asked. ‘Okay, let’s try something else . . .’

  I reached further into the bag and pulled out some dried beef. Immediately her tongue flopped out of her mouth.

  She walked right up to me and snatched a whole stick out of my hand.

  and it was gone.

  ‘Wow, you eat fast!’

  She stood there looking at me, her tail wagging slightly more now.

  It was a good thing Mum had packed a lot of dried beef!

  ‘Alright, puppy.’

  I pulled out another dried beef stick and held it out to her. The jerky disappeared in seconds.

  ‘Whoa, slow down, girl!’ I said. ‘Haven’t you heard about chewing your food?’

  She could probably have eaten all the dried beef I had in one go if I’d let her. She was obviously very hungry. Maybe she was lost like me?

  ‘No more jerky for you right now,’ I said, zipping up my bag. It was hard to resist the look of disappointment on her puppy face, but I stayed strong.

  ‘We have to make this last . . . At least until I find Mum and Dad.’

  We had a dog once. Her name was Molly. She was already a part of our family when I was born. She was a beagle, and my best friend.

  When Dad was out in the field, Mum was working in the house and Kate was at school, Molly would keep me company. We’d play for hours. We’d roam through the cornstalks, chase rats and birds, and every now and then Molly would catch a fieldmouse.

  One day, when I was about six, Molly just didn’t want to play anymore. She’d grown tired and slow, and not even a mouse could get her chasing. Mum told us that in dog-years, Molly was really old.

  We came home from school one day, and Mum told us we needed to say goodbye to Molly.