***
Bath-time proved to be a noisy and rambunctious affair that ended with water and soap suds all over the old bathroom. By the time I’d peeled Priya out of her filthy rags and gotten her into a tub full of cold water, I’d come to the awful discovery that she was infested with all manner of parasites. Her rags had to go, as did her long, matted hair.
I half-expected a fight, but when I told her that I was going to cut off her hair she seemed more fascinated than upset. As it turned out, she hadn’t realised that hair could be cut; her parents had never given her a trim. She waited obediently while I hunted around for a pair of old scissors, then attacked her mane with gentle determination. Lock by lock, her tangled tresses fell away into a pile on the bathroom floor, until all that was left was a short, manageable crop.
“Gone?” she cried happily as she ran her fingers through her newly-cut hair, looking delighted by the funny feeling of short hair beneath her fingers.
“That’s right, all gone. It’ll grow back, but we must keep the yucky bugs out,” I told her, and then promptly dunked her back under the water. She popped back up again a moment later, spluttering and laughing, then she splashed me playfully in retaliation.
“Yuck, bugs!” she repeated, poking at a patch of floating dirt that had come off her skin. “Yuck, yuck. No more bugs?”
“No more bugs,” I agreed, amused. She was a bright kid, and her English was improving with every sentence. “Close your eyes tight, okay? I’m going to put soap in your hair to kill the yucky bugs.”
“Okies,” she agreed readily, squeezing her eyes closed. I found a few unopened bottles of children’s shampoos and anti-nit treatments stashed away in a cupboard, and since the bottles were still sealed I judged that they were likely fine. With a twist, I opened one and then applied a liberal amount to her head.
The pleasant scent of shampoo filled the room as I rubbed it into her scalp. The smell and the feeling of my fingers massaging her scalp drew happy noises from her. When I told her to dunk her head, she obeyed. We rinsed the shampoo off, then applied another treatment just in case.
Once she was done, I drained the bath and put her under a cold shower to wash away the last of the dirt, then bundled her up in a big towel. Shivering and dripping, she followed me happily from room to room as I searched for new clothing that would fit her.
At first, we had no luck; the three bedrooms we found appeared to belong to parents, and a pair of teenagers – one boy, and one girl. Unfortunately, Priyanka was a tiny thing for her age, so their clothing was much too large for her. But in the back of the girl’s wardrobe, we struck a goldmine: a box full of old clothing that had been packed away when it no longer fitted, but no one had ever gotten around to throwing out.
Priyanka looked delighted by the bright colours and happy patterns. It took some doing to teach her how to wear underwear and which way the other garments went on, but she was a clever little thing and learned readily. With my help, we got her dressed and picked out some spare garments for her to bring along with us.
In the corner of the room I spotted a faded pink backpack, someone’s old school bag tossed aside on that day long ago when the world changed forever. I picked it up, and discovered that it was still crammed with faded school books and homework that would never be graded. Although I felt a momentary pang of sadness for the young woman who had owned that bag, Priya needed it now. I emptied it out, and carefully folded Priyanka’s new clothing into the bottom of it.
“This for mine?” she asked while I was packing her bag. She snatched it up as soon as I was done, and hugged it to her chest.
“You mean, ‘is this for me?’” I corrected, and then nodded. “Yes, sweetie, that’s for you now. The girl who used to live here doesn’t need it anymore, so you can have it.”
“She dead?” Priyanka asked thoughtfully, looking around the bedroom as though seeking some trace of the person who had once lived there. “She had pretty things. I like pretty things, too. She like me, I think.”
“Would you like one of the pretty things to take with you?” I asked, lifting a hand to rest on her shoulder. It seemed like a good time to teach her a few valuable lessons, and to make her happy at the same time. “She’s gone now, so you can take something if you’d like. Just remember, you never take things from living people without asking. And if you want to take something from here, you have to carry everything that you pick yourself. Okay?”
“Okies. I want pretty thing. I carry,” Priyanka agreed readily. She scampered away from me and went over to the girl’s bureau, where she began poking around amongst the various bits of girly nonsense. I decided that she was going to be busy for a while, so I left her to it. I headed back to the bathroom to gather up all the anti-nit treatments that were left, and added them to my pack. Priya would probably need another treatment in a few weeks, and my fastidious nature left me intensely aware of the fact that both Michael and I had been in physical contact with her several times. It was getting later by the minute so there was no time to treat our hair now, but I planned to make sure we both got a dunking as soon as possible, just to be safe.
Once the bottles were safely stowed away, I went off to check on Michael. I found him sitting on the kitchen floor with his arm draped over his new canine companion; the dog had its muzzle buried in a bowl of dog food. Michael looked up when I entered the room and gave me a shy smile.
“I found some dog food in the kitchen,” he told me. “There’s some stuff for us as well. I figured, you know, that you wouldn’t mind if we brought the dog along, so long as we’re not feeding him out of our own supplies.” To my surprise, Michael actually looked a little embarrassed, like he thought I would actually say no to the idea of bringing the dog with us.
“Of course, I don’t mind if we take him along.” I knelt on the floor beside him, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Did you honestly think I’d mind? My only concern is that he might be sick, or might not be able to keep up with us.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, putting his free arm around my waist to draw me up against his side, then his lips captured mine for a quick, tender kiss. In the heat of the moment, any resentment I might have felt was brushed aside by the overwhelming adoration I felt for that kind, strong man. I couldn’t possibly be angry with him for making that assumption, and I didn’t want to be.
When our lips parted, I chose the moment to tease him, just as mercilessly as he routinely poked fun at me. “Well, okay, you can keep him – but you do have to give him a bath.”
Michael’s eyes widened as he struggled to figure out how serious I was. As if to punctuate my statement, a fat flea leapt off the old dog’s fur and landed the floor tiles beside us. I was quick enough to crush it with my fingernail, then I gave him a pointed look.
“I bathed Priyanka, you have to bathe the dog. There’s flea soap under the sink in the bathroom.”
“But… but, I…” he stammered, staring down at the dog with uncertainty. “I don’t know how to bathe a dog.”
“Doggie needs a ba-ath,” Priya called from the far end of the house, catching us both by surprise. A second later, we melted into laughter.
“Okay, okay. Doggie needs a bath,” Michael agreed, once the levity had subsided. “There must be instructions on the bottle, I’m sure.” The elderly canine had just finished up his last mouthful of food, so Michael stood and called him until the animal padded out of the room after him.
With everyone else busy, I turned my attention to the important task of breakfast. It was an hour past sunrise, and we weren’t on the road yet; if we didn’t reach our destination soon then my sister was bound to start worrying. Although I had warned her I wasn’t sure how far the Hilux would take us, on foot it should only have taken three days at most. In theory, we should have been there before sunset – but that estimate hadn’t included being distracted by lost children and stray dogs.
I was sitting in the lounge stirring a pot of canned spaghetti on our lit
tle camp stove when Priyanka came looking for me. She was so stealthy in her bare feet that I didn’t even notice her arrival until she knelt down beside me.
“What is this?” she demanded, thrusting a small, sparkling trinket into my hand as soon as I turned to look at her. I took it without thinking – she didn’t really give me a choice – and examined it thoroughly before I answered.
“This is a bracelet, a charm bracelet. I used to have one just like this when I was your age. It goes like this.” I reached out and took her hand, then showed her how to put the bracelet on. It was made of silver and semi-precious stones, but it had aged well. There was only a little bit of tarnish, since it had been kept in a dry, relatively clean environment over the years.
“Bracelet?” Priyanka drew her hand back and shook her wrist, watching the light dance off the sparkling stones. “I remember… Mama wore bracelet. Many lots of bracelet. Went ‘rustle rustle’ when she cuddled me when I was little.”
The thought didn’t seem to upset her, but it did appear to interest her. In my mind’s eye, I saw her as a chubby little toddler being picked up by a woman wearing stacks of bangles. I found myself wondering, and curiosity got the better of me, as it often did.
“What did your mama look like, Priyanka?” I asked carefully, cautious of dredging up painful memories.
“Pretty.” Priya’s eyes lost their focus as she thought back, seeking an answer to my question. “Mama was very pretty. She hands same colour as my hands.” She held her hands out towards me, as though I might have forgotten what she looked like. “Hair like my hair. Long, long. No bugs, though.” The girl pulled a face. I laughed.
“Your hair will grow long again, and this time we’ll keep it clean so no bugs get in,” I told her with a smile. “Promise.”
“Good.” She nodded vigorous approval, and then resumed her tale. “Mama like to wore the pretty colours, always pretty colours. Pretty like this.” She pointed to a patch of colour on her newly-salvaged clothing. “I no know the name for this.”
“Pink,” I supplied helpfully.
“Pink?” she repeated, looking up at me with those huge, soulful eyes of hers; I nodded and she smiled. “Pink. Mama wore this colour often. And the colour like the sky, and sometimes the colour like the grass. She wore long, pretty dresses with patterns on them. Not like the dresses in we look at here, other kind of dress. Had a… a thing.”
She mimed something, indicating a flap of cloth worn over the shoulder; it took a minute for me to interpret what she meant and dredge the word out of my memory.
“A sari?” I supplied, a little uncertain if I was giving her the right answer, but she nodded vigorously.
“Sari, yes,” she echoed, looking happy with that definition. “Very pretty sari. She wore pretty sari that was pink with shiny on it, and very many bracelets. I remember Mama giving me many hugs, and letting me play with her bracelets. She read to me many, many books, all the time. Teach me many things. Mama love me, and me love Mama.”
“I think that you are much like your mama, Priyanka,” I told her. “You are also very pretty, and you’re a good girl.”
She visibly swelled with pride at my praise, too young to have developed any sense of modesty yet. I liked that about kids. No false pretences. No pretending one thing when they thought another. They were honest.
“I go look at more pretty-pretties,” she announced, springing up to her feet with a pleased look on her face.
“Breakfast will be ready soon,” I called after her, but she’d already vanished down the corridor. Shaking my head in amusement, I returned my attention to cooking.
A few minutes later, the sound of splashing and unhappy noises, both human and canine, caught my attention. Priyanka came dashing back into the room, laughing her head off.
“What are they doing?” I asked, trying to push aside my instinctive panic-response. How much damage could an old sheepdog possibly do? Priyanka’s gleeful response answered my question in quick order.
“Doggie give Michael bath!” She chortled merrily, and mimed shaking water off herself like a dog would. Then, she suddenly seemed to remember she had come looking for me for a reason, and plunked down on the ground beside me. She pointed at my feet, then held up a pair of sneakers that appeared at a glance to only be a tiny bit too large for her. “Look-look! I found like what Sandy has.”
“Hey, that’s great. They’re called ‘shoes’,” I explained, reaching over to take the object from her. They were dirty and well-worn, of course, but that didn’t matter to us at all. To a survivor, anything that was new to you was as good as being brand new. “Good for walking in so the stones don’t cut your feet. See these nice, thick soles? These are good, they’ll protect you very well. Now, we just need to find you some socks.”
“Socks? Sssssocks. That word is funny.” She giggled gleefully, repeating it a few more times for good measure. “What is socks?”
“Underwear for your feet,” I explained simply, rolling up the leg of my fatigues to show her mine. “They stop your shoes from getting stinky.”
Priyanka stared dubiously at the shoes in her hands. “Shoes already stinky.”
“Then they’ll stop your feet from getting stinky,” I answered with a laugh. “You want some breakfast, Priya?”
“Breakfast? Food?” She leaned over to examine my concoction, and her eyes widened. “What is? Is funny colour.”
“It’s called spaghetti. Yes, it’s food.” I gave her a smile and picked up a bowl, filling it with the fragrant orange sauce. “You’ll probably like it. Kids always seem to love spaghetti. Now, this is hot so don’t try to eat it with your fingers, okay? Do you know how to use a fork?”
Priyanka took the bowl from my hands and stared down at it dubiously, apparently unsure what to make of the substance I was trying to tell her was food. I couldn’t blame her; the stuff was so full of food colourings it sure didn’t look all that edible, but the smell of hot canned spaghetti could still make my mouth water even after all these years.
She looked up at me and shook her head, bewildered. I gave her a smile and a pat on the head in return, then leapt right on into teaching her how to use a fork and spoon. It was a messy business and took some doing, but by the time Michael finally joined us, our little foundling was well on her way to being competent with utensils.
I made a point of not looking when Michael plopped down beside me, because I was really struggling to hide my amusement. I could tell from the scent and the sound of his movements that he was soaked to the bone. Without a word, I dished up his breakfast and handed it to him, and we sat in a ring around the stove, eating our food.
Or at least, we did – right up until the dog padded out into the living room, and shook himself off, spraying water droplets in all directions.
Chapter Sixteen
A few hours later, we were back on the road, and I found myself pondering the strange turn of events that had doubled the size of our little party in less than a day. Michael and I walked together in the rear, while Priyanka skipped along in front with the dog prancing around her legs. The two of them had become firm friends, and spent most of the morning playing together.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Michael asked. I felt a strong hand slip around mine. When I looked over, I found him watching me. He smiled, and I felt a flush of heat in my belly. I looked away, absently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with my free hand.
“Oh, you know.” I stole a glance back and found his smile was a little wider than before. “I was just thinking that it’s kind of amazing the dog can keep up so easily. I noticed that his eyesight isn’t great, so I was a little concerned that he’d slow us down. He really isn’t, though.”
“It is pretty impressive.” Michael’s gaze shifted to follow the old sheepdog bounding ahead of us. “Kind of makes you feel like we humans got the bum end of the stick when it comes to sensory input, doesn’t it?”
“You’re not kidding,” I agreed. “I remember when t
hat bastard, Lee, was telling me that he was going to put my eyes out. The only thing I could think of was just how helpless I’d be if he blinded me. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“You’d still have me,” he quickly reassured me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “If anything like that happened, I’d protect you and take care of you.”
“I know you would, but what if something happened to you and there was no one else around?” I gestured towards the happy dog, who was leaping around Priyanka without a care in the world. “He can find food and avoid danger with just his nose and his ears. I can barely tell when my socks need changing.”
“Well, I can tell when your socks need changing,” he teased playfully. I responded by giving him a smack on the shoulder, to which he reciprocated with his best impression of a dying walrus. The peculiar sound startled both the girl and the dog. They both froze and stared at us in perfect unison, and the looks on their faces were so priceless that Michael and I burst out laughing.
“Grown-ups are silly,” Priyanka told her canine companion solemnly. The dog barked his agreement, then bounded off again with his tail wagging frantically. The girl squealed in glee and chased after him, apparently forgetting all about us again.
***
It was around midday when we reached the township of Pukeatua, a blip on the map that was even smaller than our little Ohaupo. The place was so tiny that it barely even warranted a name.
At first, I didn’t even realise that we’d arrived. All I noticed was that the trees thinned out a bit, and then suddenly a clearing opened up in front of us. A handful of road signs sprang from the overgrown verge like a crop of ugly mushrooms as we climbed a low rise, then we crested the hill and saw the ruins of the town sprawled out below us.
Of course, using the word ‘town’ to describe a place like Pukeatua was taking some liberal usage of the noun; there were maybe a half-dozen houses within sight, in various states of disrepair. There was something off about the place, though. Something that instinctively put my nerves on edge. I cradled my shotgun close against me as we moved further down the road. As if sensing my disquiet, my companions fell silent behind me.
The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn Page 18