Defying Doomsday, page 13
Jeff showed her the GPS. His skinny body seemed to cope better with the relentless heat. The yellow zinc over his eyebrows and under his eyes was still in place, also frosted with sand, and his expression was cheerful as always. Infuriatingly cheerful. “Here’s the marker, and we’re here. Looks like the dunes have moved around a fair bit. We’ll have to go up this way.”
Dragging herself off the bike to study the incline, Lex clicked her tongue. “I don’t think the bike can manage that slope.”
“We’ll have to walk.”
“No way I can make it up. And we can’t leave the bike so far off, anyway. What if we can’t find it again? What if someone nicks it?” She leaned on the bike, gripping a handlebar tightly.
“I could climb up and try to get a better view.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Lex huffed at him. “Mum said no splitting up.”
Jeff smiled. “I wouldn’t go far. Just enough to have a look.”
“Mum wouldn’t like it.” What if something happened to him, all the way up a dune she couldn’t climb?
Jeff lifted his shoulders and let them fall again. “I don’t want to disappoint Mum.”
Relieved that her tactic had worked, Lex said, “We’ll have to try and go around, then. See if we can find a waterhole.”
He whipped the GPS out of his pocket again and consulted it. “The closest water source is here … about five kays away.”
Snorting, Lex scanned the area. Rock formations, the occasional patch of scrub, and endless sand were all she could see, until… “There. See that dark patch?”
“There’s nothing on the map,” he said, scrolling frantically.
“Use your eyes, Jeff.”
“I am!”
Lex grabbed the hand holding the GPS and yanked it up. “If you just—”
Jeff shrieked and snatched it away from her. “Don’t touch it!”
Rolling her eyes, Lex threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not touching your stupid toy. I just want you to look up for once.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s not a toy.” He cradled it to his chest for a minute before putting it back into his pocket with a reverent pat. He huffed at her while he Velcroed the pocket closed again with maddening slowness. “Be hard to get home without it.”
“Well, fine, but they don’t exactly update the maps out here all that often, do they? The dunes move around like you said, and an old soakage might be uncovered, and that’s exactly where we might see the big red. Honestly, Jeff, you didn’t think the GPS was going to lead you right to it, did you?”
“I thought maybe the drone…”
“Maybe. It’s probably moved back east, though. It’s not our drone. Just because it guided our air drop.” She ground her teeth and waited. Jeff was wasting time, but he hated being told that. Like Mum always said, the more you hurried him, the longer he took. It was an effort to remember, so Lex repeated Mum’s words in her head while she waited. Her leg was throbbing again. She shifted in place, trying to take the weight off.
Jeff looked at her for what seemed like forever, then spoke at last. “Okay, let’s go that way and look around. We’ve got a while until dusk, anyway.”
Limping back to the quad bike, Lex glared at Jeff’s back. “Are you just feeling sorry for me.” It wasn’t really a question.
“No.”
“Good.”
“But you could take some of your medication if you needed to,” he suggested.
She growled, a low rumble in her throat.
“You don’t have to.”
If her eyes were lasers, there would have been holes in his back by now. He’d reached the quad bike a few steps ahead of her, and he turned to smile at her. It flickered a bit when he saw the expression on her face. “Why are you angry, Lex?”
“I’m not.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m. Not.” With some difficulty, Lex got herself back on the bike. Not making eye contact with Jeff, she opened her tube of pills after a brief struggle with the child safety lock. She knocked back a couple of tablets and chased them down with a gulp of water.
* * *
Jeff waited until she’d put the pills away again, then slid on behind her, moving slowly, almost gingerly. He had done something to upset Lex but he wasn’t quite sure what. Why didn’t she want to take her medication if it made her feel better? He didn’t want to hold onto her, but he had to, so he wrapped his arms around her loosely. Staying quiet was best for now; maybe Lex would cool down on her own.
The drive was a few minutes of tense silence. Lex parked the quad bike in a sunny spot so that the solar panels would keep charging. Then she stomped off to a patch of shade offered by an overhanging rock formation, leaving Jeff to explore.
It wasn’t much of a waterhole. More of a dirty little puddle that even Jackie would’ve had enough sense not to touch. Giardia and Cryptosporidium might be lurking there, or any number of bacteria. Jeff wasn’t clear on how animals managed to survive invasions of bugs that humans couldn’t cope with. They didn’t always, of course; plagues of viruses and deadly bacteria had decimated plenty of native species along with the humans of Australia, but somehow the wildlife clung on.
Unable to sit still, Jeff prowled around, keeping close so that Lexi wouldn’t worry about him. “I don’t see any roo poo. Or any poo, or anything,” he reported after a few minutes.
“Maybe it hasn’t got here yet,” Lex said.
Jeff walked in the opposite direction and suddenly the unremarkable waterhole felt different. He’d found the remains of a campsite. There wasn’t much to be seen; the desert was quick to reclaim its own. Just a couple of empty jerry cans and a torn polar fleece blanket, already mostly covered with sand. “Uh oh.”
She scrambled to her feet, wincing. “What’s—oh.”
Jeff squatted down to look at the blanket, carefully not touching it in case it was infected with something. “Hard to tell how recent it is,” he said.
* * *
Lex scanned the area again. Seeing nothing, she settled back in her shady spot. “We shouldn’t stay long … I just need a couple more minutes.” The drugs still hadn’t kicked in properly. They wouldn’t get rid of the pain, of course. They took the edge off, made it seem a little further away. But anything, anything was better than the constant ache in her leg that made concentrating on a thought for longer than a second really difficult and being kind somehow impossible and it just really. Fucking. Hurt.
Jeff sat down at last, a pace or so away from Lex, and studied his GPS. Lex alternated watching him idly with staring out into the desert.
She was starting to feel almost normal when there it was; the red kangaroo bounding over the dunes, over the very rise where the drone Jeff had hacked had caught it on camera. The footage hadn’t misled them. Even from that distance, it was huge, surely as big as they could get. It was majestic, stoic, focused on some goal that had nothing to do with becoming anyone’s dinner, whether theirs or anyone else’s.
Still immersed in his device, Jeff said, “I just can’t really—”
Lex interrupted him by jumping up awkwardly and tugging on his arm. The GPS tumbled from his grasp into the sand and Jeff howled, the sound ending with a deafening shriek.
“Fuck’s sake, Jeff, it’s fine, just look.”
He wouldn’t, though, until the GPS was back in his hands and he’d verified that it still worked. At best, Jeff might have seen that strong tail, balancing the hopping motion as it bounded away.
But Lex had seen it all. There was no time to lose. Hobbling to the quad bike, she slung the shotgun over her shoulder and got herself on as fast as she could. She started the engine. “Come on, Jeff,” she called. Grumbling, Lex steered the bike right next to him. “We can still catch it, maybe, if we go now.”
Making no move to get on, Jeff carefully brushed sand off the GPS. He was crying. “What if you got us lost, Lex? What if we couldn’t find our way home?”
Frustration punctured Lex’s bubble of optimism and pain relief. “And what if your little tantrum made us lose the roo? Because that’s what’s happening right now.”
“You’re not allowed to grab me like that and you always do.”
“Sorry. Now get on and let’s go.”
Tucking the GPS deep in his pocket, Jeff reached for his magnetic beads, working them frantically. He dug his feet into the sand. “You’re not sorry.”
His accusation ripped her open, and all the words tumbled out of her, all the things she knew better than to say out loud. “No, I’m not, because we’re never going to catch the roo, and what are the odds another one will come close enough ever again?” She regretted each word as she said it, and not just because yelling made her throat sore. But still they kept coming. “And we’re all going to starve, and you’re ruining everything, and you’re so annoying, and it’s your fault that, that…” She ground her teeth together, stopping herself before she said something she’d really wish she hadn’t.
Jeff had collapsed onto the ground, whimpering. He looked so small; he always did, but now more than ever. Lex pushed away memories of when they were little. Nothing had changed, really, he was still so aggravating and still made her feel guilty, and that just made her angrier.
Lex looked over her shoulder. The roo was long gone, but she could still picture it hopping away, over and over, bounding higher and faster and further with each replay. Stifling a scream or a sob, she wasn’t sure which, she ripped open the packet of an emergency blanket with angry teeth and let it unfurl. She wrapped it around Jeff’s shoulders as roughly as she could; which is to say, not very. Jeff closed his eyes and let out a little whisper. “It’s scratchy,” he said.
“It’s the best we’ve got right now. The sleeping bags are underneath the tent.” Lex pulled him in close for a hug, the way Mum did. She said, like Mum always did, “Just try it for a minute?”
* * *
Gulping big breaths of air, he nodded. The blanket itched at his skin even through his clothes, but it was good to feel something solid around him. He closed his eyes and drew circles on his thumbs with his index fingers. Both at the same time. Round and round.
Lex disappeared for a second and he drew the circles faster, but she was only gone a minute and soon returned with a polar fleece jumper. She worked the jumper over his head and helped him get his arms into it, under the blanket, as though he was a little kid. It felt good; soft was good, even though it was so hot. He opened his eyes. There were damp streaks on Lex’s cheeks, and her lips were frowning, and for once she didn’t look cross with him, just sad.
“I really am sorry,” she said.
Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as well, Jeff cuddled into her. “I know you are. It’s okay.”
They sat in silence together. The roo was still hopping away, but it didn’t matter anymore.
* * *
The sun began to set. Still quiet, they set up the tent, doused their hands with alcohol gel and made tea and wattle seed damper on the metho-fuelled camping stove. Somehow, Lex wasn’t very hungry, but Jeff ate her leftovers after asking multiple times if it was okay.
Jeff insisted that Lex let him set up the tent by himself. As the light faded, they got in and cocooned themselves in sleeping bags that felt too hot, but would be essential to survive the night. When they were settled, Jeff asked, “What was my fault, Lex?”
Lex crossed her arms over her chest. Lying down, they felt heavy. “Mum said I was never allowed to tell you. That she’d tell you when you were ready.”
There was a long silence. “Tell me. Please.”
At this point, Lex was in trouble with Mum no matter what. She sighed and pushed the words out. “My leg. I broke it when I was four and you were two. You were playing in the creek bed—it was dry then, like always. You slipped and I jumped and caught you, but I landed wrong and … yeah.”
Jeff shrunk away from her, as if trying to make his body as small as possible. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Jeff. You were just a baby and it was just bad luck and I’m sorry. It was wrong to say that. Or think it.”
“But it was a bad break. Mum said you should’ve had surgery on it. If they still did that kind of operation.”
“Still not your fault.” The more she said it, the truer it felt. “Unless you did it on purpose?”
Moving closer again, Jeff rested a head on Lex’s shoulder. “Of course not. I was just a baby.”
“Well, then.” She ruffled his hair quickly and exhaled the last vestiges of the secret.
In the silence and darkness of the desert, they slept.
* * *
They woke to a soft pattering sound.
“What is that?” Shivering, Lex sat up. Faint light shone through the walls of the tent.
“Rain! It’s rain!” He grinned, his hair standing up on end as he crawled out of his sleeping bag.
“Shit. Come on. We need to pack up.”
After packaging his GPS carefully in its waterproof sachet, Jeff helped Lex bundle up their belongings and pack the tent. Sand and water resistant it might be, but torrential rain was another story. Only once everything was stowed and they were garbed in their rather useless plastic ponchos did they stop to survey their surroundings. Lex could remember seeing rain once. Her leg had mended, but not quite right, and their parents were still anxious about whether she’d ever walk again. She’d watched it from her window, marvelling at the strange colour of the sky and the multitude of containers filling with water spread around the property. But she’d never stood in it, never felt the rush of warmth that quickly turned cold.
Tipping his head up, Jeff let the water fall on his face. “Wow,” he said. He stuck his tongue out. “It tastes so clean.”
“First rain of the decade,” Lex said, even though he surely knew. “We should go. Mum will worry about us catching our deaths or drowning or something.” Despite her words, she didn’t move straight away. But after a few more moments, they dragged themselves away and got on the bike.
“I feel like I peed myself,” Jeff said.
“You better not have.”
“I didn’t! The back of the seat was wet. Gross.”
“Good.” Lex started the bike up. “It’s charging pretty slowly. Let’s hope we can get home.”
“I’ll navigate!” Jeff studied the topology on the GPS, and pointed. “That way.”
They travelled mostly in silence, exchanging small talk every so often. The rain continued without break, making the terrain muddy and treacherous. By unspoken agreement, neither sibling speculated aloud on what Mum would think about their journey. As much as Lex would prefer to keep some of it secret, Jeff wouldn’t be able to, and Mum always seemed to be able to mind read, anyway. She’d see something different. She’d know.
The quad bike got them pretty close to home, but they were still a few kays away when the main and spare batteries both declared themselves dead.
Grumbling, Lex put the bike in neutral and they started pushing. “You did good navigating, Jeff,” she admitted. “Could’ve been much worse if we’d got lost in the dunes.”
“Told you it wasn’t a toy.”
Looking across at him, Lex scowled, but her expression changed when she saw a twinkle in his eye. “Are you … teasing?”
He grinned. “Yes! Did I do good teasing?”
She laughed, a real laugh that made her eyes crinkle, although it was short-lived. “Yes. But … ow. Let’s just push.”
They reached the creek bed … the creek, Lex amended, staring at the rushing water in awe.
“I want to see,” Jeff said. He left Lex with the quad bike to meander closer.
“Jeff…” Lex was too defeated to whinge. “If you hurt yourself, Mum will kill me. Just … stay away from the edge. Please?”
“There’s fish. In the creek. The rain must’ve brought them down.”
Lex dragged the bike off the track and left it behind a tree.
Jeff was lying on his belly, right on the bank. He looked up at Lex when she got close. “Look how big they are!”
Almost as long as Lex’s arm, they looked pretty fat for fish living in the struggling river system. They nosed around the bottom of the creek, swimming lazily. She had to swallow down the saliva that formed in her mouth at the thought of them grilling in Mum’s frying pan. She could almost smell it. Protein for Jackie. And omega-3, even better.
“Reckon we could make a fishing rod with something?”
Lex grinned. “I reckon.”
7
Given Sufficient Desperation
By Bogi Takács
An ice cream cone.
A ceramic mug—brown with a single green stripe around the rim.
A smartphone—I don’t recognise the brand. It’s been a while.
Two sheaves of corn.
A plush caterpillar toy from some cartoon.
A table—rather worn, I’d say Danish Modern, but I’m not sure.
I need a break.
* * *
Looking at objects for hours upon hours wears me down, even though I’m not supposed to do anything with them. I remove the helmet that records my responses to the images and wave my hands around my chair to find my forearm crutches. My eyes are still adjusting to the different stream of sensory input. I grasp one crutch; the other falls to the floor with a loud clang. I wince.
Small Purple Circle comes up to me, twines two of his tentacles around the crutch and hands it to me. I frown at him and rub my eyes with my free hand. “Thanks,” I mutter. His colouring seems to be more faded than usual, more pink than purple.
“How are you doing? Are you all right?” he says in the voice of Oszkár Gáti—the Hungarian dubbing actor of both Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone. Before the invasion.
