by Ben Onslow
I park the Land Rover outside the pub.
Ela tries to open the door but it’s stuck again. Mon lays his wet head on her shoulder to look out the window; she pushes him away.
I go round the Land Rover to let her out, walk past her Mum’s Eco. Something about the way that black Eco is sitting stops me. I bend down to look at the tyres; they’re flat. I go to the side and run my fingers along the panel; it’s got these deep gouges along it. I walk around to the back of the car and check there too. More gouges.
I stand up, and go back to the Land Rover, open the passenger door.
“I’ve got some bad news for you,” I say.
“What bad news?”
“Someone has damaged your ESD.”
“What?” Ela struggles to untangle herself from my sleeping bag, then jumps out. She silently walks around the Eco. The rain pours down on her hair and face as she examines the damage. She wipes at the long dents in the side as if she is trying to wipe them away.
Mon puts his head through the open door and watches her.
As she stands up, she sways with tiredness and I realise I’ve been dragging her around the bush all day. And yesterday she ran for hours, is : probably still tired from that. And she’s cold and wet and now her transport is wrecked.
She looks over the ESD at me, bewildered.
“What’s Mum going to say?” she asks. “Who would do this?”
“It was probably the Willises again. They remembered you from the pub, enjoyed wrecking my vehicle so much they came back here and did yours.”
Ela nods like I’d know about that. “I don’t know what to do,” she says. “I’m cold and wet and smell like a dog and still don’t know what’s happening.”
I know the feeling.
“Will you be all right for a moment?” I ask. “I’ll just go into the pub and see if Mum knows anything and ring the cops.”
When I get back Ela’s still standing in the rain facing the road. She watches an undamaged car go by.
“They look safe,” she says. “Like they’re in a nice warm cocoon.”
“Yeah.” The lights of the car are dipped. Behind it, red and yellow tracks reflect the streetlights.
Then she looks at her Com, checks it.
“You got Txts?” I ask.
“Yes, heaps of them.”
“Amon?”
She nods, then hits delete without reading them. Turns off the Com.
She glances back at her Mum’s Eco. It looks despondent sitting there on its wheel rims, the tyres all flattened, like puppies’ feet.
“Mum says to put your ESD and the Land Rover in the garages at the back of the pub. We’ll deal with this tomorrow.”
Ela nods.
“Get in and follow me around.”
Ela nods again and gets in her mum’s car.
We drive round the back. Nick’s there, sitting in his ute in the parking area waiting for us.
I pull up beside him.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He looks at the damage on the Land Rover, then at Ela’s car.
“Bloody Willises,” I say. “Give us a moment.”
We get the vehicles into the garages while Nick waits.
Then we all run to the back door, go inside to get out of the rain.
“You really think the Willises did the damage?” Nick asks.
“Yeah.” I tell him how my day has gone.
“Bummer,” he says.
“Why are you here?” I finally ask. It’s late. Nick must have been working in the rain all day. He’s probably as cold and tired as we are.
“We got to do something about Vincent,” he says.
“Yeah,” I push through the doors to the private bar. It’s empty.
From the public bar, Arthur calls us over. “The Willis boys were asking about Ela earlier. I thought you’d like to know,” he says.
“What about Ela?”
“They said they’ve seen you with her a couple of times.”
“Did they want anything?”
“Nah, just seemed interested in who she was and who the car belonged to.”
“Thanks,” I say. “That Vincent guy turn up?”
Arthur nods. “And his mate.”
“Where are they now.”
“Bed, I think.”
Nick, me and Ela go upstairs.
“What now?” asks Nick.
I sit down at the computer, turn it on.
“Yesterday you ask your mother to spy on someone who kills people, now you’re going to do another search on him?” says Ela.
“No, no search.” We wait for the old computer to fire up.
“What then?” asks Ela.
I try to figure out another way to learn something about Vincent without raising an Alert. Then realise Mum said he sounded Australian. I have contacts in Australia.
“I know who might help.” I flick onto the ComMail icon. “I’ll see what Yvette and Dad know about Vincent.”
“Who’s Yvette?” asks Ela.
“My stepmother. She’s a cop.”
“You said you thought your father left because of Jacob’s thing.”
“Must have got lonely,” I say.
“Why them?” Nick watches the screen.
“If Vincent’s Australian like Mum says, they might have heard about him.”
In the ComMail I say I’ve met Carlos Vincent and wonder if they know anything about his background. I read it through, decide it will do, send it.
Just before dawn, there’s a chill in the air and I wake up. I’m not sure if I really heard Ela yell out or if I dreamed it. Then I hear it again. I pull on some jeans and go and see what’s wrong. Floorboards creak. I reach around the door frame and feel for the switch. The light comes on and there’s Ela sitting way up the bed. She moves even further up pulling the sheet with her. All the covers are on the floor.
“Are you all right?”
I reach down and put the duvet back on the bed.
“Just a bad dream.”
I go over to the bed, sit down, put my arms around her. It’s familiar, like it was in Nick’s ute. I’ve been here before. One time about a year before Dad left, our dads took me and Ela on a camping trip. We were all in the bush in tents. At night time, my dad and Ela’s would leave me looking after her while they went and did stuff. They always said it would only be for a few hours and it usually was. But once they were away for a long time. When it was nearly dawn I woke up really suddenly. It was that murky half-light you get just before sunrise. Dad wasn’t in the tent, but Ela was. She had crawled in, snuggled up with me and gone back to sleep.
“Can you stay?” Ela asks this time. “I keep dreaming I’m being chased and can’t move.”
No surprise there.
“Trapped in a glasshouse too?’ I ask.
She nods. “And someone’s wrecked my ESD.”
Feel a bit guilty about all that.
Anyway, Dad and Ela’s dad didn’t come back the next day either. We were on our own all night again. We didn’t say anything about it, just looked after each other. They arrived late the next morning. Dad was injured, cuts all over him and a broken arm. Said he’d fallen and got hurt and that was why it had taken them so long to get back.
“I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”
It seems okay.
She nods again and moves across to the side of the bed and lifts up the duvet so I can get under it, and lies down facing the wall. I curl up around her and put my arm on the duvet near her waist.
17.
Willis Brothers
Friday 17th Feb 2051
8:50 a.m.
Next morning, I get up early again. Need to go the farm, do the basics, feed the dogs, check the glasshouses, fix the fence. Me, Mum and Ela go outside and check the vehicles.
I stand in the garage looking at the damaged Land Rover with my hands shoved into my jeans pockets.
“Can it be fixed?” asks Mum.
“Rob thinks he’s
got a windscreen and windows he can use. He’ll come and pick it up later.”
Patsy nods and looks at Ela.
“What about your ESD?”
“I connected with Mum and she rang the insurance company this morning; they’ll pick the Eco up tomorrow,” says Ela.
“What about until it’s fixed?’
“They are giving me a courtesy one.”
Patsy nods. She’s going to let me keep using her car until the Land Rover is at least waterproof.
I go to the kennel behind the garage and let Mon out. The dog runs a few loops around the car and then sticks his nose in Ela’s hand. She’s in a tiny skirt and the red boots. No running gear. She pats Mon’s head, trying to keep her distance. I guess she doesn’t fancy smelling like dog.
“Get over here,” I tell Mon and open the boot of Patsy’s car. The dog knows the routine, jumps in, circles once and then lies down with his head on his paws. I slam the boot shut.
“Is he all right in there?” Ela asks getting in the passenger side of the car.
“He’ll be fine; it’s just until we get to the farm.” I put my rifle on the back seat, open the driver’s door and get in. “
I start the car, wave to Mum, pull out onto the road.
It’s still early but the cool of morning is beginning to burn off, and the sun is sitting like a white ball in the sky. Cicadas are buzzing at full volume in the trees by the river.
As we pull into Jacob’s driveway a silver ute goes down the road. We’re hidden by the trees lining the road but can see enough to know it’s the Willis brothers again. I don’t know if they’ve seen us. Won’t recognise Mum’s car anyway. She keeps it in a garage at the pub.
At least we know the Willises aren’t in the house at the moment. I’m still just guessing they’re causing the trouble, but they’re the most likely suspects.
We go into the house. It’s the way we left it. No more damage. Ela’s given up on trying to tidy the place.
She goes to the hot water cupboard by the range and gets out an old pair of jeans and a shirt. The shirt might even be a cast off of Jacob’s, it’s so faded.
“I’ll get changed.” She wanders off, comes back into the dining room in jeans, fluffy socks and the old shirt.
“You look different,” I say.
“I’ve got boots and a Swanndri too; they’re in the laundry.” Now she tells me. She wanders out there, comes back wearing the Swanndri, carrying the boots.
“Do you want to come and see what the Willises are up to?” I’m looking in the fridge for something else to eat. “We could take the bikes and check the property at the same time.”
“Sounds fun.”
“I’m going to feed the dogs first. Do you want to help?”
She nods.
We go to the garage to find the dog food. On the way I fetch the rifle from the back seat of the car.
She looks at the gun doubtfully.
“Still the same vermin around.” I lean the rifle against the wall.
Ela opens the fridge. “I guess you’re right, I saw that vermin go down the road.” She takes the roll of dog food out and cuts it into pieces.
“You bring the rifle,” I say to her and pick up the dog food.
We feed the dogs, get the bikes out. Load the fencing gear into the panniers, and we’re ready to go.
The three dogs run around sniffing each other and peeing on the gateposts.
Ela and I ride to the boundary fence. Jacob was right: Ela still manages a bike fine. I don’t have to help her start it, and she knows where to stop to open a gate so she isn’t in the way. And she looks pretty comfortable in the old farm clothes.
Still hot.
The sun’s getting warmer; there’s still the odd puddle around from the rain. The dogs race ahead. We take turns opening and shutting gates. So far everything is fine, nothing disturbed or damaged.
I get to the final gate and hear something.
“Look at that,” I say to Ela over the noise of the bikes.
Ela follows where I’m pointing. A helicopter is coming over the mountain towards us. It has a piece of equipment like a rotary clothes line dangling underneath.
“What is it?” She comes to a stop beside me.
“It’s a HoistEM. It’s used to map an area.”
“I was expecting some sort of tripod.”
“This is different. A tripod is used to drill for samples. The HoistEM is used to find promising places to drill,” I explain. The helicopter passes almost above us and then makes a turn and goes back to the left of where it’s come from. “Dad was involved in a project to find deposits of uranium. He used a HoistEM to detect underground channels and ponding. It finds artesian water because that is where you find uranium: in the ponding areas.”
“So they are looking for artesian water?”
“Maybe.”
“Does that mean they didn’t find it at the other place?”
“Probably, if it’s the same people doing it.”
“Wouldn’t they be more secretive than this?”
“Maybe they know Jacob is away.” I shrug. “Anyway an airborne survey like this is done by flying at a low elevation. By coming over the mountain they avoid being too conspicuous.”
We wait for the helicopter to return but it doesn’t come back.
“Must have finished.”
“Why would they be looking for underground water here?” says Ela. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Don’t know. We’ll find the Willises and have a talk. See if it’s them.”
I start my bike, take the rifle off my back and lay it across my knees. Ela shakes her head as if she can’t believe I’m doing it, but she doesn’t comment.
She follows me to the boundary fence and we see the empty ute sitting at the end of the road by the bush line. I get off my bike, call the dogs back.
“Are you coming?” I say to Ela.
She nods and gets off her bike too.
We creep through the bush. I’m moving deliberately, keeping low and being careful where I put my boots so I don’t make any noise. Ela follows close behind. She’s being pretty quiet.
Suddenly two shots ring out. I drop down, kneeling on one knee, keeping low, and wave to Ela to do the same. She copies me, staying close. I hear voices in the distance.
“How did I do?” says one.
“I’ll check,” says the other.
It sounds like the Willis brothers.
I motion for Ela to follow and we creep nearer to where the shots came from.
We stay in the bush at the edge of a clearing and watch the action.
Across from us are two large pieces of white paper with crosses drawn on them. They’re nailed to a couple of trees, one about one hundred metres and the other about a hundred and twenty metres away. Henry walks over and looks at the first one. Charlie stays lying down, his rifle resting on a fallen log. Henry’s rifle is leaning against a tree.
He calls to his brother.
“Not bad, Charlie. Two clicks up and one to the right should get it.” He turns around, sticking his thumbs in his belt, making the jeans sit even lower.
Charlie takes a screw driver out of his pocket and tightens screws on the top and side of his scope. Henry steps way back from the target and his brother aims and fires again. He walks across to the target, examines it and gives his brother the thumbs up. Goes back to where his rifle is and picks it up. Holds it steady aiming at the target. He doesn’t shoot, just keeps looking through the scope and adjusting the screws with the screwdriver until he’s satisfied.
When he’s happy with what he can see through the scope he takes Charlie’s place lying behind the log, resting his rifle on the Swanndri. He aims carefully, fires, then moves enough to see how accurate he’s been.
“Do you want me to check?” asks Charlie.
“Not yet,” says his brother. “I can see through the scope.”
He makes a fine adjustment on the top and side of his rifle and
then fires again. After four shots he’s happy with how he’s shooting, turns his attention to the target further away and goes through the same routine.
Charlie examines the second target.
“There’s a couple of shots up in the left hand corner,” he says.
“Yeah,” answers his brother. “Felt those pull. What about the others?”
“They’re good.” Charlie gives him the thumbs up.
Henry leans his rifle against a tree and goes to check.
“It’s good.” He looks up at the canopy. “I haven’t heard that chopper for a while. Huey must be finished.”
“Yeah.” Charlie, rips the target off the tree. “Vincent is going to be pissed off if we don’t find anything again.”
“We just need more information. We know it’s here. I remember Dad talking about it,” says Henry. “Huey said the gear will map the area for us. We will be able to pinpoint likely sites. It’s a bit more scientific than just looking around.”
“More information,” Charlie says, “and then we can nail it.”
“It better work; it’s costing Vincent a bomb.” Henry takes the other target down and examines it again, he seems satisfied.
Charlie is wandering around the clearing picking up spent cartridges.
I motion to Ela and we creep back along the track.
We reach the bikes without anyone following. The dogs are all standing, looking alert. They would have heard the rifle shots too. Mon crawls under the fence, runs over to me and does circles around us.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen Henry and Charlie out of their ute,” says Ela.
“What do you think?”
Ela laughs. “Their mum and dad made some bad gene choices.”
“No gene choice there.” I go to kick the bike into life. To me they looked the same as they always do: tall, solid, heads shaved bald. “They’re Naturals, like me.”
Ela puts her foot on the kick-start. She sits there on the bike, nibbling at the side of her lip thinking.
She looks over at me and pulls the chain with the paua shell memory stick hanging from it, out from under her jacket.
“And me,” she says.