Water pours in.
Mum shouts again. I can’t understand her.
The water is up to my chest …
My neck …
My chin …
Mum’s eyes meet mine.
Her lips move.
One last word.
Water swallows me whole.
The seatbelt clicks.
The current sweeps me away.
Mum!
My head spins.
My arms and legs won’t work.
I’m going to die.
All the strengths of the Catching women flow down the family line and into you.
That matters.
Nanna Sadie. There’s something about her I’ve got to remember.
My lungs scream for air.
I’m lost in the dark of the water.
No up and no down.
Words shine in the dark beneath my feet.
They speak in Mum’s voice.
When your Nanna was little the government took her away from her mum. They had a law back then that let them take Aboriginal kids just because they were Aboriginal…
Her voice wouldn’t lead me wrong.
Down is up!
I turn in the water.
I follow the words.
They stuck her on a ship. She was going to a bad place. But the government people didn’t know about your Nanna’s strength with water. She was born in a big storm, and when she cried for the first time, a sound like thunder came out her mouth.
My mouth opens.
It wants air.
It fills with water. I’m choking!
I roar.
A sound like thunder pushes the water out.
She jumped off that ship into the waves and swam. First through the sea until she reached the shore, then through one river after another, all the way back to her mum.
Your Nanna could swim like a fish.
My legs move.
I kick.
Once. Twice.
Again.
I swim like a fish.
I swim like my Nanna.
I burst through the surface.
Breath heaves.
In.
Out.
It burns. I keep gulping air.
Rain still falls.
I’m being dragged by the current.
My arm hits something. A tree?
I grab hold.
Not a tree.
A root, attached to a tree on the riverbank.
I claw my way up.
Lightning tears the sky.
There’s a shape lying on the shore.
Mum!
I stagger over.
The lightning fades.
I reach her in the dark. Drop to my knees.
‘Mum, wake up!’
Lightning flashes.
Mum’s eyes are open.
Staring.
But not seeing.
I press my finger to her neck
No pulse.
She’s dead.
I cry until the lightning dies.
I scream until the thunder fades.
I howl into the dirt.
Give her back!
But the earth stays silent.
Soon I’m silent too.
I fall to the ground. My eyes close.
I don’t want to wake …
But I do.
Everything is strange.
Two suns hang in the air.
There’s no river. Only a stream.
The trees have no leaves. They crowd together in a forest of sticks.
All the colours are washed away.
The sky is grey not blue.
The trees are dull not white.
Even the suns are pale.
Where Mum’s body was is an empty space.
She’s gone.
Impossible.
Her body was right there.
I stand. Pat the earth as if it has eaten her.
Nothing.
Maybe her body hasn’t gone anywhere. Maybe I have.
Somewhere different. Somewhere else.
My head throbs. I put my hand on it.
There’s something grainy matted in my hair.
Blood.
I’m hurt. Alone.
In some other-place.
I should be scared.
But I’m not.
Mum’s gone. Nothing else matters.
Memories stab my brain.
Us on that hill. The storm. The drive. The water.
She said something to me.
Just one word.
Right before she unclipped my seatbelt.
I couldn’t hear it then.
I can now.
Live.
I fall back to the ground.
My heart is hollow.
Empty.
My body is heavy.
Weak.
Maybe I’ll fade away …
Like the colours of this place.
Yet I don’t.
Live.
My throat tightens.
Tears run.
The last thing she did was save me.
She asked for one thing.
Live.
I don’t want to.
But I’ve got to.
I stand. The world spins.
I stab a leg out. Catch my balance.
Pain spikes through my head.
I stagger to the stream. Gulp down water.
There are fish darting about.
Food.
I walk back to the trees.
Break off a branch.
File the end against a rock.
Spear.
I wade into the water.
The fish flee, only to come back as the ripples die.
I hurl my spear.
It stabs the sandy bed.
Misses the fish.
I reach for it.
Lift. Aim. Throw.
Miss.
My stomach growls.
So does something else.
There are things in the distance.
Things that shimmer in the air like they’re made of water.
They’ve each got four legs.
One tail.
Big jaws that hang open to show gleaming teeth.
Muscles that ripple as they paw the ground.
I grip my spear.
But there are too many to fight.
One of them yips.
All of them charge.
I run into the stick forest.
The shimmer-beasts chase after me.
They howl, surrounding me with wails.
Terror sends strength flowing through my legs.
Something flashes beside me.
I lash out. A beast yelps.
I keep running.
The howls fade.
Then the trees stop.
No more forest. Just a rocky cliff wall.
I look left. Right. The wall goes on forever.
They’ve herded me here.
Live.
I drop the spear and climb.
The world shrinks to edges and angles.
Reach up. Grab the rock. Pull.
Find a hole – there!
Dig in your foot. Stretch…
Howls sound beneath me.
I glance over my shoulder.
The beasts pace below.
One bites down on my spear.
The others fight over the remains.
Snap. Snarl. Claw. Rip.
They’ll eat me the same way.
I keep going.
My muscles hurt.
My fingers tremble.
I’m almost there.
I can see the top of the cliff!
But there’s no way to reach it.
I’ve hit smooth, flat rock.
I search for a hold. Find none.
There’s a ledge to my right. I could rest there. Work out what to do.
I stretch my body as far as it can go.
Not far enough.
Can’t go down.
Can’t go up.
That ledge is my only chance.
It’s out of reach. Unless I jump.
I take a breath.
Focus on the ledge.
Jump.
For a second, I’m a bird.
A cloud.
A leaf in the breeze.
Then my right hand claws at the rock.
My fingers dig into a hollow.
My body swings outwards.
My hand stretches … Snap.
I scream but don’t let go.
I slam my other hand into the hole too.
Pain tears down my arm.
It doesn’t want to hold on.
I suck in air. One breath. Two.
Up!
I shoot over the ledge.
My chest lands on top. My legs kick open air.
I swing them onto rock.
My body shakes. My hand hurts.
But I’m safe. For now.
Almost falling taught me something.
The voice that told me to live …
This time it wasn’t just Mum’s.
It was mine too.
I close my eyes.
The wind blows across my bruised body.
For a moment everything stills.
Pauses.
Rests.
Then sounds echo in the rush of air.
Voices.
Somebody’s talking, somewhere above.
My eyes blink open.
‘Hello?’ I call.
No answer.
I stand, try again. ‘Hello? Anyone there?’
‘It speaks,’ a voice hisses.
‘All girls speak,’ another answers.
‘Yes. Speak. Scream. Cry.’
Two figures appear on the cliff-top above.
Then they jump off.
I wait for them to fall past me.
Instead they … flap? … onto the ledge.
They’ve got wings. Leathery. Grey.
Their robes are grey too.
Long robes, which hide their heads and bodies.
Robes that blend with everything else and make their edges hard to see.
Their faces are covered by white masks with human features.
But they can’t be human.
Calling out was a bad idea.
They don’t feel right.
Not because they’re strange-looking.
It’s something else.
A wrongness that makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
I want my spear.
‘What are you?’ I demand.
They answer together, ‘Fetchers.’
One points to himself. ‘I am he-who-is-First.’
He points to the other. ‘This is he-who-is-Second.’
First is larger. First is first. The boss.
Boss people want everyone to know they’re in charge.
‘She has colours,’ Second says.
‘Bright,’ First agrees. ‘Beautiful. Like a rainbow.’
Second hops towards me. ‘Are you alone, little rainbow?’
Fear stirs my stomach.
‘No,’ I lie. ‘I’m here with my mum.’
Who’s dead.
‘My dad.’
Who took off with another woman years ago.
‘Lots of people.’
First goes quiet. Tilts his head. Listens.
Laughs. ‘Liar. No parents, no nothing. You’re a lost little rainbow.’
I back up until I hit the cliff.
‘Don’t worry,’ Second says. ‘We make lost things found.
We’ll make you found too.’
‘We’ll fetch you,’ First agrees.
‘Stay back!’ I snap.
But they’re not afraid.
I’m small and they’re big.
They have wings that fly.
Claws that fetch.
I have only me.
My eyes never leave the Fetchers.
But my hands search the wall.
Looking for a rock. A weapon. Anything!
I find nothing.
They come closer.
I hear a sniff behind the mask. ‘She’s damaged.’
Second doesn’t sound happy.
Maybe damaged is bad?
Bad for them is good for me.
‘I’m hurt,’ I say. ‘Broke my hand. Smashed my head. I’m all messed up.’
‘She can be fixed,’ First says.
‘Only to be broken?’ Second asks.
First shrugs. ‘Not our job. Our job is to fetch. To mend. To give to him.’
Second nods.
First lunges.
I swing my fist. Kick my feet. Yell.
It’s useless.
The not-human thing is larger than me.
Faster than me.
Stronger than me.
I’m fetched.
We soar over the stick forest.
I don’t fight.
I’ve got no wings.
If I get free I’ll fall.
First circles in the air.
Below is a boulder. It looks like an egg tipped on its side.
Across from it is a tree.
Between the two is dirt.
We plunge towards the dirt.
My stomach slams into my throat.
My skin pushes back from my face.
The earth opens like a mouth.
We’re swallowed.
I’m dropped to the floor. I get up. Stagger in the grey gloom.
My hand slaps against cold rock. Wall.
But wall runs into floor. Floor runs into ceiling.
Tunnel.
Second speaks to First: ‘We must tell him we have fetched.’
‘I will tell him. You will fix her.’
Second’s wings dip in disappointment.
‘You are good at fixing,’ First says. ‘You will make her shiny and new.’
Second draws himself up. Proud.
My stomach twists.
I’m a doll.
I’m a prize.
For him.
The real boss. First is only the boss of Second.
There’s someone else.
Second grabs my arm.
I’m dragged along.
I don’t fight.
Right now there’s no way out.
So I save my strength. Wait for my chance.
Ahead is a door.
It’s grey like everything else.
Second shoves it open. Pushes me inside.
I see shelves.
They hold clear cubes of jelly.
Can’t be jelly.
Something else.
The door shuts.
A lock clicks.
I’m trapped.
Second leaps. I jump back.
Raise my hands.
The broken one can’t make a fist.
Can’t defend me.
But Second just flaps over my head.
He lands by a shelf. Grabs two cubes and tosses them in the air.
A metal hand drops from above, catching the cubes.
More hands dangle from the ceiling.
The cubes are thrown back and forth.
Smashed together.
Pulled apart.
Second is watching the hands.
My eyes search the room.
Looking for a weapon … a way out … anything.
But there’s nothing.
Mum’s voice speaks inside my head: Knowledge can be a weapon, Iz.
She said that to get me to go to school.
Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
Second’s not as smart as First.
Maybe he’ll let something slip?
‘What is this place?’ I ask.
‘This is where we bring the colours.’
‘I’ll give you some of my colours if you help me get out.’
Second laughs. High-pitched. Grating.
‘Colours are not for Fetchers! We find. We give. But never keep. Colours are for him.’
‘Who’s “he”?’
‘He is the one who takes the colours.’
Useless.
There’s a hissing sound from above.
The hands disappear into a cloud of steam.
Something drops.
Same jelly. Different shape. A sphere instead of a cube.
Second plucks it out the air. ‘Medicine!’
He bounces over.
I back up.
He snorts impatiently and slaps the sphere onto my broken hand.
I try to scrape it off.
There’s nothing to scrape.
It’s sunk through my skin.
It burns.
First my outside. Then my inside.
I drop.
Twist.
Scream.
The burning shrinks.
Smaller and smaller until it’s nothing.
I sit up.
There’s no pain. Not anywhere.
I make a fist. It doesn’t hurt.
I touch my head. Unbroken skin.
Medicine.
Second looms above me. Another sphere drops onto my arm.
I try to shake it off. Too late. It’s part of me.
But there’s no burning this time.
Only fuzziness.
Second hauls me out the door.
I try to track where we’re going.
I can’t.
Everything joins together in greyness. It’s all tunnels. Until it’s not.
I’m in a room. A big room? A small one?
I don’t know. Sleep is dragging at me.
The world is fading.
The Fetcher dumps me onto the floor.
Not the floor. A bed.
My head hits a pillow.
He leaves.
I fight to stay awake.
I lose.
Catching stopped speaking. Just stopped, and turned away from us to stare out the window at the long shadows of the late afternoon.
Monsters and other-places. Other dimensions. It was all so unbelievable, and yet what she’d said felt true. And after all, I was living proof that there was more to the world than what most people saw. Okay … not living proof. But proof just the same.
Only we still didn’t know how Catching had ended up back in this dimension on the night of the fire.
‘You can’t stop there!’ I blurted out. ‘How did you escape?’ Of course my words had no effect on her. I looked at Dad. ‘Ask her what happened next!’
But all my father said to Catching was, ‘Talked enough for today, huh? That’s all right. I’ll come again another time.’
What was he doing? We hadn’t even got to the fire, which was why he’d come here in the first place! But then Catching turned towards us and I saw that her eyes were sunken and her cheeks hollow. Shame prickled over my skin. I should have noticed that it was hurting her to tell the story. Dad clearly had.
He rose and offered her a smile. ‘Is there someone you want me to contact for you? A relative, perhaps?’
‘Worried I’m all alone?’ Her lips twisted into a snarl that said back off as clearly as if she’d shouted it. ‘Don’t be. I got somebody.’
I could see Dad would’ve liked to ask who but wasn’t going to push her. I trailed behind him as he strode to the door, pausing when I reached it to glance back at Catching. I wanted to make sure she was okay.
Catching Teller Crow Page 3