Half Lives

by Sara Grant

  I sucked in my stomach when my eyes met Chaske’s. He raised his eyebrows a little in what I thought might be approval.

  ‘Where’s our stuff?’ I asked Marissa.

  Tate dumped my backpack and Marissa’s goodie bag at my feet but never took his eyes off my tits. I tossed my shirt on the ground and snatched a bottle of water from the bag. Even then, I knew I shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t waste water. I unscrewed the lid and poured the whole bottle over me. I used my hands like squeegees and wiped the water off. I shook like a dog, my dreadlocks thudding against my face and back. My dreads stung like I was being flicked with a wet towel in gym. I slipped on the first shirt I found in my backpack. It was bright yellow with black silhouettes of monkeys with wings and the slogan Beware of the flying monkeys. In my current situation, flying monkeys no longer seemed that implausible.

  Everyone was staring at me as if I’d grown two heads, but the hysterical terror was subsiding to mere mind-blowing fear. I realized what was missing from this scene. ‘Where’s your cat?’ I asked Chaske.

  ‘She’s not my cat really. She found me on this mountain. She must be around here somewhere.’ Chaske glanced around, but there was no sign of the black cat.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Tate sized him up as if he was determining if he could take him in a fight.

  Chaske shrugged. ‘I could ask you guys the same.’ Ah, the question-with-a-question diversion. Who was this guy?

  ‘What’s with the gun?’ Tate asked and stepped in front of me and Marissa. Was he really getting all mini-macho on us? It was kind of cute.

  When Chaske didn’t answer, Tate did that thing that people do when speaking to foreigners. He slowed down and spoke up. ‘Where. Did. You. Get. The. Gun?’

  Chaske smiled this wonderful cheeky smile, which was so slight that I felt privileged to notice it. ‘What’s with all the questions?’ It was a rhetorical question, but Tate didn’t get it.

  ‘Well, you have a gun, which you shot at Dread, and it’s not the first gun that has been pointed at me today so I’m a bit freaked out, and you shot it once so I’m wondering if you’ll shoot it again but this time at one of us and, I mean, I’ve been through a lot today, what with being thrown out of the back of an RV . . .’ On and on Tate went in this stream-of-consciousness way, and everything he’d been holding back came spewing out like a spit-take in one of my dad’s stupid sitcoms.

  The tension that had solidified in my veins seemed to shatter. I glanced at Marissa and we busted up laughing. When he said it all like that in one massive run-on sentence, it sounded so unbelievable and for some unknown reason incredibly, hysterically funny.

  ‘Hey, that’s not funny.’ The whine was back in Tate’s voice. ‘The guy’s got a gun.’

  This only made Marissa and me laugh harder. My laughter had an uncontrollable edge, like crying. Chaske looked at us like we were mental patients.

  ‘How can you laugh?’ Tate asked Marissa and me, who were now doubled over in convulsions of laughter. ‘It’s not funny,’ he told Chaske. ‘I’m just saying, there’s some crazy shit going on.’ Tate went on to tell Chaske every gory detail. Tate’s commentary ended my laughter like the snap of a flyswatter on bug then glass. I tried to tune him out. I didn’t want to hear Tate describe it like a TV newscaster would an event on the other side of the universe.

  How could Tate be so casual about it? He couldn’t really understand, could he? How could any of us? None of us had ever experienced anything in the same zip code – or galaxy – as this. How could we possibly imagine what this meant?

  Each time I crawled out of the funk and horror of it all – even if it was just the tips of my fingernails breaking the surface – I was immediately sucked back under. As Tate talked, Chaske’s face paled and everything about him slumped.

  ‘Is this for real?’ Chaske asked, looking from Marissa to me. We both nodded.

  ‘We need to get moving,’ Marissa said to keep Tate from saying anything else.

  Tate added, ‘And Icie, here, says there’s some underground bunker where we can stay until this blows over. Isn’t that right, Dread?’

  ‘I’m not sure where the entrance is exactly,’ I said. ‘My mum said it was marked with an infinity symbol.’

  Chaske raked his fingers through his hair, pulling out the nude rubber band. He seemed to withdraw inside himself as he re-tied his ponytail. It was like those before and after pictures where the main difference is the person’s facial expression and posture. He was looking ‘before’ and less, well, less the hero.

  ‘I think I might be able to help you find it,’ he said. He disappeared through the trees. I stuffed my hat and shirt into the goodie bag. Chaske returned a minute later with a proper camper’s backpack, complete with sleeping roll at the bottom and two canteens crisscrossing his torso – and, to my relief, Midnight. ‘Onwards and upwards,’ Chaske said.

  Marissa and I followed Chaske and Tate up the mountain. Tate was giving this monologue about everything from his love of cinnamon-flavoured chewing gum to how to win at blackjack. Chaske listened and let Tate fill the space that was once occupied by normal.

  Marissa checked her phone but there was still no signal. Maybe the phones were working again, but we couldn’t get reception on this godforsaken mountain. The sun was setting but it felt more like darkness was rising, transforming every boulder and clump of trees into some sort of beastie. It was like a non-lame haunted house, except it wasn’t a house and these screepy illusions weren’t props. I tried to tell myself the shadows and shuffling were just my imagination. I wondered if I had days, hours, minutes or seconds to live.

  I tried not to imagine the bazillion different heinous scenarios that could be playing out around the globe. Would the survivors stack the bodies like layers of lasagne, bury them in Grand Canyon-sized pits, or set them adrift in the oceans, Viking-style, and watch them bob on the waves until they sank out of sight? Or maybe there would be no survivors. I had to stop thinking about it, but I couldn’t. My parents, Lola and even Tristan had to be alive. I wouldn’t let myself think that they were, well, you know.

  ‘Careful,’ Chaske said, pointing with the toe of his hiking boots. It was a thorny, knee-high hedge. Midnight was cradled in his arms like a sleeping baby. She opened one of her bright yellow eyes when he started talking and almost immediately closed it again. ‘This thing circles the mountain.’

  ‘There’s no way this occurred naturally,’ Marissa said, glancing at Chaske as if for approval.

  Was this supposed to make us turn back? Like those people who had ‘Beware of the Dog’ signs but no dog? I hoped my mum hadn’t used her Oxford education and tax-payers’ hard-earned cash to come up with this ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign. You can’t just write ‘Keep Out’. It’s like when my parents locked their top dresser drawer. They might as well have put a sign that said, ‘Something really awesome is in here’. I picked the lock and sure wished I hadn’t. I was like ten and didn’t quite understand what all the gadgets and goos were, but when I finally figured it out . . . Major emotional scarring. The only proof, well, besides me, that my parents had sex. Um, gross.

  If this tiny hedge was supposed to be a warning sign for when the nuclear waste repository was finished, then future generations had no hope. That is, if there were going to be any future generations.

  Chaske helped Midnight over and then took a flying leap and easily cleared the hedge. Tate tried to mimic Chaske, but his jump was less graceful and he fell hard on all fours. Chaske hauled Tate to his feet as effortlessly as he’d picked up Midnight. Marissa jumped, practically doing the splits in mid-air.

  I climbed over it, but my feet got tangled in the brambles and the thorns slashed at my ankles. I started to fall, but Chaske swooped in and caught me. I could smell the musky fragrance of his body and long hair. I wiggled free, landing on one knee. I popped back up, not wanting to look like the total klutz I was. ‘Let’s keep moving.’

  The air seemed thinner and cooler the high
er we climbed. There was no infinity symbol that led to a secret hideout. Maybe someone had filled in my parents’ top-secret bunker. I was starting to wonder if I’d led us on an imaginary, rabid wild-goose chase.

  Midnight scampered between our legs, racing ahead and then waiting for us to catch up. The terrain was rocky. Spindly shrubs and massive boulders dotted the landscape. More chucks and wallies scuttled and darted out of our way. I swear I saw a scorpion. After my near-snake attack, I strained my ears for rattling and slithering and hissing.

  Tate incessantly asked Chaske questions, and he expertly evaded every single one.

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Around.’

  ‘Why aren’t you in school?’

  ‘Why aren’t you?’

  ‘What sports do you like?’

  ‘Same as you, I guess.’

  ‘Are you in the military?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  It reminded me of when we were forced to watch the presidential debates in history class. Chaske was well schooled in the non-answer. It was as if he had magically appeared on the mountain to save me from the rattlesnake.

  The mountain levelled. The ground looked as if it had been bulldozed flat to create a ring around the mountain. This must have been part of the path I’d spotted from the ground. And things just kept getting weirder and weirder. A wall materialized in front of us. It was the same earthy colour as the rocky ground, so it took a 3-D form only when we walked closer. Stones of various sizes were piled in a huge, continuous cairn maybe ten feet high. It appeared to circle the mountain. The rocks were dumped in a rough line that looked about five feet thick. This must have been erected by humans – or possibly aliens. We had to be getting closer.

  ‘It’s like Stonehenge or something,’ Tate said, chasing Midnight, who was climbing up the pile.

  Midnight had reached the top and was sitting pretty, her yellow eyes squinting in the setting sun. Her pink tongue flicked across her whiskers and then she meowed. The sound didn’t sound like me-ow. She had a hoarse voice. She made the sound again, like mrrrroooow, and disappeared over the wall. We followed her, clambering up on all fours and half sliding, half surfing down the rocks on the other side.

  With every step, I became more and more despondent. We were never going to find the bunker. I’d brought these people here and we were all going to die. Our heads swivelled like searchlights scanning for a symbol. Part of me wasn’t sure if I really wanted to find it. Was I really going to lock myself underground? Was that really necessary? Maybe we could camp out on the mountain until my parents showed up.

  ‘Look,’ Chaske called suddenly. ‘Is this what you mean?’ He was pointing to a huge round stone that looked like a giant’s dinner plate. It was propped against a rocky wall. The boulders stacked behind it resembled a large square about the size of a two-car garage. ‘I wondered what this was,’ Chaske said. Marissa, Tate and I filed in next to him. An infinity symbol was chiselled into the centre of the stone.

  This was it.

  I stroked the rock face with my hand. I wanted to laugh, cry and scream all at once. We’d found it. Maybe we were going to make it. I had to have faith in my parents. They’d got me this far.

  ‘Help me roll it away,’ I said, pushing on one side of the stone. It was heavy but I think it budged. Chaske found a strong branch from somewhere and wedged it under the rock.

  Marissa moved in next to Chaske and gripped the branch so her hands were touching his. ‘Why’d they mark it with infinity?’ she asked.

  Tate watched. ‘’Cause that’s how long that nuclear waste stuff lasts. That’s why my dad didn’t want it anywhere near this place.’

  ‘A “half-life” of up to ten thousand years or longer,’ I said. ‘That’s how long the stuff is deadly.’ My dad and I had had this argument many times. How can we create something that’s hazardous for generations? He believed nuclear was the safest, cleanest form of energy. It doesn’t create carbon dioxide and other stuff that wrecks the ozone layer. He said it was the only real option to meet the world’s electricity needs. ‘Just be happy they never got around to storing any nuclear waste here.’

  Chaske, Marissa and I scrunched next to one another, pushing and prodding with all our might.

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m grateful for the stuff,’ Chaske said. We looked at him as if he had sprouted a clown nose, rainbow hair and a pair of deely-boppers. ‘No nuclear waste. No underground bunker. No safe place for us.’

  ‘So thank God for nuclear waste,’ Marissa said with a fake laugh.

  ‘Amen to that!’ Tate chimed in, and finally joined us.

  I found it a bit odd that Chaske was so willing to take our word for what was going on. But I didn’t question it. Not then, anyway. I was glad he was there. Maybe it was because he’d saved me, but I trusted him and I definitely felt as if I owed him.

  The stone rolled away inch by inch. I held my breath until I saw rock give way to a black hole. When we’d created a space big enough for me, I squeezed into the opening.

  ‘Why don’t I investigate first?’ I said. I felt protective of this place. After all, my parents had risked everything to send me here.

  Chaske handed me a flashlight from his backpack. Midnight hopped from her perch on a nearby rock and peered inside. She sniffed the stale air, gave a loud meow and darted a safe distance away.

  I switched on the flashlight and shimmied through the hole. I tried not to think of snake holes or being buried alive. The space was filled with an airless heat, as though I’d crawled into one of those big clay ovens that fancy pizza places have. I stood frozen in the shaft of dusty light that was filtering in from the outside. It was as if I’d been beamed into deepest outer space. My body flushed with sadness. Tears of relief and grief flooded my eyes. I was being given this extraordinary chance to survive, but it meant leaving everyone and everything else behind.

  ‘Everything OK in there, Icie?’ Chaske called.

  The darkness was closing in.

  ‘Ice?’ Marissa yelled.

  ‘Yeah.’ My voice cracked. ‘I’m fine.’ I remembered my flashlight and directed the beam ahead of me. What was hiding from me in this cave? My imagination exploded with creepy crawlies, beasties, aliens and even the distorted white mask from Scream. My hand shook and the light flickered with a strobe effect.

  Get a grip, I told myself. My parents wouldn’t have sent me here if it wasn’t safe. I took in the space one circle of light at a time. The room was empty except for a steel door on the far side that looked like an old-fashioned bank vault. I walked over and examined the door.

  I slipped the key from around my neck. There was only one place it could go. I slotted it in and the door opened with the clunk of metal. I grabbed the door handle. It took all my strength to inch it open enough for me to slip through. Cool air washed over me. It was as if the place had central air-conditioning. I shivered.

  I stepped, flashlight first, into the pitch black. The light from outside dissipated to a thin slice of grey. I swept the flashlight beam around a cavernous room of solid rock. It was impossible to determine the exact dimensions. I didn’t want to venture too far away from the door. The darkness felt as if it might swallow me up.

  But then an eerie calm descended over me.

  We might survive buried safely in the heart of the mountain. We had a chance. I sent my thanks to my parents – wherever they were. ‘I made it,’ I whispered and hoped I would see them again soon. If we could make it, maybe others could too. There were bank vaults and sub-basements all over the place, right? The president had some sort of subterranean hideaway.

  I scrambled back out again. ‘This is it,’ I said, trying to sound confident. Midnight was the first to greet me, gently knocking her head against my legs.

  ‘Can we do this? I mean, can we survive in there?’ Marissa asked.

  ‘I’ve got some food and water, which should last a little while,’ Chaske said, shrugging his shoulders and jostling the co
ntents of his massive backpack.

  ‘I’ve got lots of supplies too,’ I said.

  ‘I have some water and stuff that I,’ Marissa blushed, ‘liberated from the airport.’

  We all looked at Tate.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I know. I got nothing, but it’s not my fault,’ he whined.

  ‘So.’ Marissa bounced. ‘Are we going in or what?’

  Tate cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think we should take the cat.’ Chaske shot Tate the most hateful look. ‘Well,’ Tate’s voice rose an octave, ‘how will we feed it and stuff?’

  ‘Uh, pretty sure that’s not your problem,’ I said and scratched the cat behind her ear.

  ‘Do you think we really need to do it?’ Tate asked. ‘Why don’t we camp out here for a while?’

  ‘But what if the virus is airborne?’ Marissa asked, as if we might know the answer.

  ‘I think we need to hide out from other people. People are sick and dying. We’ve seen it.’ I was finally convinced. ‘Locking ourselves away is the only way we will survive. We don’t have to decide right now how long we’re going to stay. We can just hide out for a while.’

  ‘I think I agree,’ Marissa said.

  ‘Yeah, OK, I guess,’ Tate said.

  ‘We can go inside in a second, but . . .’ What was I trying to say? ‘I’m just saying we don’t know how long we’re going to be trapped . . . I mean, um, it’s getting late and we’re exhausted, but, I mean, um . . .’

  ‘How about one last look?’ Chaske asked, as if he’d read my muddled mind. ‘Follow me.’ We walked down and around the mountain. We weren’t far from the rocky wall. Chaske led us to a stony outlook. He climbed up first and then instructed the rest of us on where to find the footholds. He had to help us the final few feet, taking each of us by the hand and hauling us onto the ledge.

  I was momentarily blinded by the glare of the setting sun. As my eyes adjusted, the skyline of Vegas took shape. It reminded me of the Lego towers I’d constructed with my dad when I was little, creating multi-coloured and strangely shaped buildings. There were Xs and Os. Bronze blocks and thin needles pointing skyward. But something wasn’t right.