Wilder Country

by Mark Smith

  ‘Two men and a campfire,’ I say.

  ‘Wilders?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Let me look,’ she says, and she sets off through the trees on the side of the road.

  Kas is gone a long while and Willow and I are starting to worry, when she appears out of the gathering darkness.

  ‘I don’t think they’re Wilders,’ she says.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘They’re black. I got close enough to see.’

  ‘Aboriginal?’

  ‘No. African.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘They could be Sileys. There were Sudanese and Somalis in the processing centres.’

  ‘What should we do?’ I ask.

  ‘If they’ve come from Longley they might have information we can use.’

  We look at each other and I’m aware of the way we make decisions together now.

  ‘It’ll be safer for me to approach them,’ I say. ‘You get in position on the embankment with Willow and cover me with the bow and arrows. If I have to run, don’t try to follow. As far as they’ll know, I’m on my own.’

  We stash the sacks in the bush and I wait for Kas and Willow to get into position. I keep Rowdy with me. He’s not much protection, but they won’t know that. Then, slowly, I walk up the road and round the bend. The men are still standing at the fire, both facing me, which means Kas has their backs.

  They hear Rowdy’s growl first. Then they focus on me. I have one hand up in a gesture of friendship but they back away from the fire and reach for something on the ground.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you.’

  It’s Kas, standing about ten metres behind them, the bow drawn back and an arrow aimed at the nearest one.

  Things have escalated pretty quickly.

  ‘Woah,’ one of them says. ‘Woah. We’re not armed.’ He puts his hands up and the other one does the same.

  ‘Sit down and keep you hands on your heads,’ Kas says. She sounds menacing. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Gabriel and this is Tahir.’

  Tahir looks angry.

  ‘Where are you from?’ I ask, checking the ground for weapons.

  They both look at me strangely, trying to figure out what I’m saying.

  ‘He asked where you’re from,’ Kas says.

  Their attention is drawn back to her. ‘Nowhere,’ Tahir replies.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘We’re No-landers.’

  ‘What’s a No-lander?’ I ask. They are very dark skinned and tall, at least a couple of years older than us.

  ‘Please,’ Gabriel says. ‘Don’t shoot.’

  Kas steps towards them, keeping the arrow tight in the bow. Willow has followed her down off the bank.

  ‘Please,’ Gabriel says again. ‘Have some food.’ He slowly drops his hands from his head and pulls the leg of kangaroo out of the fire. He tears a strip of meat off it and offers it me. ‘We have plenty,’ he says, venturing a smile.

  Kas isn’t convinced. She stays just out of their reach, edges around next to me and says, ‘You didn’t answer the question. What’s a No-lander?’

  The glow of the fire lights Gabriel’s face. His skin shines, drawn tight across high cheekbones.

  ‘We are Sileys,’ Gabriel says. ‘Like you.’

  ‘How do you know I’m a Siley?’

  ‘Your tracking device,’ he says, pointing to the back of his own hand. ‘We’ve been looking for you—the girl with the mark on her face.’

  ‘What?’ Kas says, lowering the bow a little. ‘You’ve been looking for me?’

  ‘All the No-landers are looking for you.’

  ‘How come I’ve never heard of you?’ Kas says.

  ‘We’re not from here. When the virus came, we travelled west from the city, looking for somewhere safe. No one tracked us; they were too worried about getting sick. But no one helped us either. Every town we came to, they drove us out.’

  ‘Us? How many of you are there?’ Kas is trying to piece together their story. Me too. Willow has accepted a piece of meat from Gabriel and she stands back from the fire eating it. Gabriel winks at her and she smiles back.

  ‘We were five, but more joined us along the way. There are fifteen of us now,’ Tahir says. ‘All No-landers. All Sileys.’

  ‘Where are the rest?’ I ask, looking around at the bush.

  ‘We have a place. A deserted farm.’

  ‘Where?’ Kas is curious.

  ‘West,’ Tahir says waving his arm vaguely in the air.

  ‘Near Longley?’

  ‘No, we stay clear of Longley.’

  ‘Please,’ Gabriel says again. ‘Sit down. It’s cold. Share our fire. Eat.’ There is something in the way he speaks, the way his white teeth flash in an uncertain smile, that makes me want to trust him. I look at Kas and she nods. They make room on the ground by the fire and we huddle in. Even Rowdy has relaxed. Tahir tempts him with a small piece of meat and pats him when he moves closer.

  ‘His name’s Rowdy,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know this word,’ Tahir says.

  ‘It means noisy, I guess. But it’s a joke, he’s a softy, really.’

  Tahir looks confused.

  I almost jump away from the fire when Gabriel pulls a knife from inside his boot, but he sees my panic and places it on the ground.

  ‘To cut the meat,’ he says.

  I can see the wariness in Kas’s eyes. She’s on edge, ready to spring if she has to.

  I pick up Gabriel’s knife and start hacking at the meat but he places his hand over mine and says, ‘Let me.’

  He seems to know exactly where to cut and the meat falls away from the bone in neat lengths. I haven’t eaten kangaroo in at least three years. It tastes gamier than rabbit, but it’s well cooked and not too tough.

  Kas eats a small piece, chewing slowly. ‘What do you mean,’ she asks, ‘you’re looking for me?’

  Gabriel and Tahir exchange glances.

  ‘We No-landers are from everywhere and nowhere,’ Gabriel says. ‘Some of us are from Africa, some from Asia, some have had their land swallowed by the sea, the Pacific Islanders. All of us have come on boats.’

  ‘I get it,’ Kas says. ‘You’re Sileys.’

  ‘That’s not a word we use,’ Gabriel says. ‘It makes us slaves.’

  ‘I was a slave,’ Kas says, leaning towards the fire. ‘In Longley.’

  ‘We know,’ Gabriel replies.

  ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Kas has run out of patience. ‘What’s with all this talk about knowing me, looking for me?’

  ‘There is a girl,’ Tahir says, ‘she was held prisoner in Longley. At the feedstore. She escaped, not long after you and your sister. We found her just before the winter. She was nearly dead, starving. We took her to the farm and over the winter she gradually got better. She talked about you.’

  ‘What’s her name?’ Kas interrupts.

  ‘Vashti.’

  ‘Describe her.’

  ‘Indian, maybe Sri Lankan, green eyes, short.’

  Kas looks at me, then back at the fire. ‘Okay, I know her. She knows me. So what?’

  ‘She says if we find you, we find your sister. She says Warda is a fighter, that she will lead us.’

  ‘But—’ Willow says before Kas cuts her off.

  ‘Wils, I’ll do the talking,’ she snaps.

  I pull Willow in towards me.

  ‘I don’t know why Vashti would say that. Why would Warda be interested in leading your group of’—she hesitates—‘No-landers?’

  ‘Now the winter is almost passed,’ Gabriel says, ‘it will become dangerous for us again. We have a home on the farm and we have to protect ourselves. We have some weapons for hunting.’

  He gets to his feet slowly and walks a few paces to the tree where the kangaroo is hanging. He reaches behind it and takes out a rifle, holding it by the barrel so as not to alarm us. ‘We have more of these,’ he says, ‘and a small amount of ammunition.’


  Kas is alert again, her hand reaching for the bow. I’m ready to grab Willow and run. But Gabriel walks back to the fire and hands the rifle to Kas. I’m surprised at how easily she handles it, checking to see if it’s loaded, then resting it across her lap. I’m sure I remember Rose saying Stan was the only one who used the rifles on the farm.

  ‘You and your sister,’ Tahir says, ‘you know the country here. You know the dangers. And you,’ he says pointing at me.

  ‘Finn.’

  ‘Finn. You are not a Siley, are you?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘But you must know how to hunt if you have survived this long.’

  ‘Yeah. A bit.’ I say.

  Willow pipes up then. ‘He’s the best hunter.’

  I’m trying to figure out whether this is a good turn of events or not. Gabriel and Tahir seem okay but we’ve lied to them about Rose and we need to find Hope before the Wilders discover we’re not in Angowrie anymore.

  Gabriel breaks the silence. ‘Where is your sister? Where is Warda?’

  Kas is ready for this question. She shoots the answer back at him. ‘She’s down on the coast, guarding our place.’

  ‘Will you take us to her?’ Tahir asks.

  ‘We have something we have to do first,’ she says.

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘We need to travel north, to find Willow’s parents.’

  Tahir is curious. ‘And where are they?’

  ‘North,’ Kas says again, more firmly this time, challenging him not to question any further.

  But Tahir persists. ‘Then you can give us directions to Warda. We can travel to her on our own.’

  I’ve had enough of this. ‘I don’t think so. Like you say, the world’s a dangerous place these days. We all need to be careful. We’re no different from you.’

  This is a stalemate built on lies, ours and theirs. If the conversation keeps going, cracks will appear.

  I try a change of tack. ‘Tell us about the city,’ I say. ‘We haven’t heard anything for three years. Are there people still alive? What are the police doing? The government?’

  ‘Ah,’ Gabriel says, ‘that’s a long story, my friend. First things first. I don’t think you would be travelling such a distance without supplies. Go and get them. You can camp with us tonight.’

  Again, the way he talks, half smiling all the time, how he’s so comfortable and relaxed, puts me at ease. Kas nods. I volunteer to go because she has the rifle.

  ‘Wils,’ I say, ‘come and give me a hand.’

  When we get to the sacks Willow touches my arm. ‘Finn,’ she says, ‘why did Kas lie about Rose?’

  ‘We have to be careful, sus them out, decide whether we can trust them. Until then, the less they know, the better.’

  Back at the fire, everyone is sitting where we left them. Rowdy has his head in Tahir’s lap. Kas has the rifle on the ground beside her and her left arm stretched out to Gabriel. They’re comparing tracking devices. I think of Rose stitching up the wound, where she’d gouged hers out, at my kitchen table on that day in Angowrie. It’s months ago now but I still remember the smell of her, the way she bit her lip when she pushed the needle through, how it made me sick watching her.

  Willow and I get comfortable, leaning back against the sacks.

  ‘Tell us about the city,’ Kas says.

  ‘We were held in a processing centre on the outskirts,’ Gabriel begins. ‘Most of what went on in the city we only heard about second-hand or when we were transported out to the factories. Some of the drivers were kind. They spoke to us, told us what was happening.’

  ‘The factories?’ I ask.

  ‘Abattoirs,’ he says.

  I think of the way he used the knife to cut the ’roo meat off the bone.

  ‘The summer was hot, in between the thunderstorms. We were in crowded cells with no air-con. Each day more guards got sick or fled the city. Then the drivers stopped coming, too. In the end, there were only half a dozen guards for a hundred of us. They climbed into a truck one afternoon and drove out, leaving the gates open. We knew nothing of how to survive in this land. Most of us had come on boats, separated from our families. We thought we were the lucky ones.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I ask.

  Tahir takes up the story. ‘You heard about them turning boats back?’

  I remember this; it was on the news a lot.

  ‘That was in the early days, when there was at least some concern for our safety. But boats were getting through, so then they…’

  He turns away.

  ‘They started sinking them,’ Gabriel says. ‘They shot at them. Blew them up.’

  Kas stares into the fire. ‘That’s so fucked up,’ she says.

  I can’t look at her.

  ‘What happened when you escaped from the processing centre?’ I ask, changing the subject.

  ‘Everyone split up. Some took their chances going into the city, some decided to stay at the centre where there was shelter. But Tahir and I started walking, west. Always west.’

  ‘You’ve walked two hundred kilometres,’ I say.

  ‘Yes, it was a long journey. There were many travellers on the road but the virus was spreading faster than we could walk. People became sick, falling along the way. More No-landers joined us. We didn’t want to admit it but we must have had some immunity to the virus. And the work in the factories had made us strong, so we were able to keep going when others couldn’t.’

  ‘Did you pass through Wentworth?’ I ask. It seems like a lifetime ago that I caught the bus to school there.

  ‘We couldn’t avoid it,’ Gabriel continues. ‘It was a very dangerous place but there was food there so we stayed for most of the year. We did things that we are not proud of, just to eat, just to survive.’

  ‘We’ve all done things we’re not proud of,’ Kas says.

  ‘By the autumn things began to change. The army—or what was left of it—took control of Wentworth. There was talk of a council being formed. Some power was restored—we had electricity for one hour every third night.’

  Kas and I look at each other, hardly able to believe what we’re hearing.

  But Gabriel shakes his head. ‘Don’t get your hopes up. The virus was still active and there were too few people to help.’

  ‘And,’ Tahir continues, ‘that meant No-landers, Sileys, were needed to do the work. To be slaves once more.’

  Gabriel cuts in. ‘We set out west again. There weren’t as many people on the road as the previous year, but there were gangs of men who demanded food in exchange for safe passage. We never trusted them. But we met other No-landers along the way, all of us fleeing into country we didn’t know.’

  ‘Some people must have helped you,’ I say.

  ‘Some, yes. They gave us a little food if we promised to keep moving. Eventually, there were fifteen of us, too many to rely on the charity of others. So we—’

  ‘Gabriel!’ Tahir interrupts, shaking his head.

  ‘You can’t have done anything worse than we have,’ Kas says.

  ‘You don’t want to know,’ Tahir replies.

  Everyone is quiet, then. The fire crackles and hisses—the wood is too damp to burn properly. Willow has nestled her head into my lap and I can feel her breathing long and slow. The night envelops us, with only a sliver of moonlight visible through the trees. We can feel the cold at our backs and hear the movement of the wind in the forest around us.

  ‘We need to sleep,’ Kas says. ‘But I think we should take turns to keep watch.’ She picks up the rifle again and lays it across her knees. ‘I’ll go first,’ she says.

  Gabriel and Tahir don’t seem to care about having a sentry. They back away from the fire and pull a couple of blankets out of a bag. I’ve woken Willow and grabbed our sleeping bags from the sacks.

  ‘Wake me when you get tired,’ I say to Kas.

  I scout around for a large, dry branch to throw on the fire before lying down on the opposite side to
Tahir and Gabriel. Willow snuggles next to me and I drift off as the flames take hold of the dry wood.

  Sometime during the night, Kas shakes me and I wake with a start.

  ‘What’s up? I ask.

  ‘Nothing. I’m tired—I need you to take the watch.’

  It’s the first chance we’ve had to talk privately since we came across Tahir and Gabriel. I take her arm and we move away from the fire.

  ‘Do you trust them?’ I say.

  ‘I dunno,’ she says, knowing immediately what I’m talking about.

  I like the way we are starting to think the same way. ‘Something doesn’t add up, them looking for Rose, giving us the rifle. Why? It doesn’t make sense,’ I say.

  ‘There’s no guarantee they’re telling us everything, either,’ Kas says. ‘Sounds like they’ve been through some tough times, though.’

  We both turn back towards the fire.

  ‘You know how to use that?’ she asks, looking at the rifle

  ‘Vague idea.’

  ‘Be careful, then. It’s loaded and ready to shoot.’ She leans into me. ‘I’m so tired,’ she says.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, as she turns back towards the fire. ‘Where did you learn to use a rifle? Rose said Stan never let you two near them.’

  ‘Tell you in the morning,’ she says, lying down next to the fire and pulling the sleeping bag over her.

  The moon is higher now and its dim light filters through the trees. The wind shifts in the higher branches, but even though the air’s cold, it’s nothing like the winter. There’s a stillness about the forest at night that I love, as though everything has slowed down at the end of the day.

  I climb a few metres up the side of the cutting and choose a spot with some bracken to sit on and a tree to lean against. The rifle feels strange in my hands, the wood grain worn and shiny. Dad was so anti-guns. He hated them. Now, though, they could be the difference between living and dying. If we could take this with us to the valley, we would have a big advantage over Ramage’s men, if they’re still there. But having a gun is one thing; having ammunition is another.

  It’s hard to tell how deep we are into the night but the stiffness in my back and hips keeps me from dropping off. The fire is dying down and I can just make out the four shapes lying around it.

  I feel a gentle tap of a boot on my leg and wake to see Kas standing above me. The first light of morning is inching its way through the trees.