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It was a despair he could not comprehend, spilling from her mouth. Not knowing any other way to stop her, he covered her mouth with his hand but she pulled it away.
“If he doesn’t come back, there’s no one left, Jude,” she whispered, the horror of it all there on her face. “They’re all gone. Everyone’s dead.”
He held her against him and for once he understood what she had felt every day that he had known her.
“Hold my hand,” she said, sobbing against him. “Hold my hand because I might disappear.”
Chapter 15
It’s peaceful like this, on my back. A loving sun caresses my face and it wraps me in a blanket of fluffy clouds, like the feeling of my mother’s hands when she first held me. For a moment I’m back there, in a place where I want to be.
But then somewhere up-river, a speedboat or Jet Ski causes a ripple effect and miniature waves slap water onto my face, like an angry hand of reprimand, and the shock of it almost causes me to go under. I fight hard to stay afloat and suddenly I remember the feeling of fear in my mother’s touch. Some say it’s impossible because you remember nothing when you’re five seconds old but I promise you this: I remember the tremble in my mother’s body when the midwife first placed me in her arms. I remember the feeling of slipping between those fingers. It’s like she never really managed to grab hold of me with a firmness that spoke of never letting go. It’s like she never got it right.
But that’s my job.
My body becomes a raft and there’s this part of me that wants just literally to go with the flow. To close my eyes and let it take me. But I know sooner or later I will have to get out, that I need to feel the earth beneath my feet, between my toes—the splinters, the bindi-eyes, the burning sensation of hot dirt, the sting of cuts, the twigs, the bites, the heat, the discomfort, the everything. I need desperately to feel it all, so when something wonderful happens, the contrast will be so massive that I will bottle the impact and keep it for the rest of my life.
For a moment I sense something flying menacingly low over me and I start with fright, losing my balance and this time I do go under. But the sky is a never-ending blue, no birds, no clouds. Just a stillness that tells me I’m the only person left in the world.
Until I see Jonah Griggs.
On my side of the river.
I breaststroke over and attempt to get out with as much dignity as possible. One is always at a disadvantage when standing dripping wet in one’s bathing suit, no matter how modest it is.
I try to think of the rules and begin to say in a strong assertive voice, “The Little Purple Book…”
“…states that any negotiated land must not be accessed by the enemy and, if caught, the handing over of territory is to take place with alacrity,” he finishes for me.
“You know the water access belongs to us. You are tres—”
Before I can say another word, a body comes flying over the river and lands, expertly, just next to me. Griggs and Anson Choi shake hands, the enjoyment so evident in their faces. For a moment I’m reminded that Griggs is just a typical guy our age. There’s a softness to his face that’s almost painful to see because it makes him vulnerable and to think of Jonah Griggs as vulnerable is to imagine him as a ten-year-old boy at the mercy of his father.
“So who does the air belong to?” he asks me. “Can’t recall that being in the Little Purple Book.”
“This is private property.”
“According to rule four-four-three of the Little Purple Book, private property is neutral ground.”
Nodding. Like I know rule four-four-three well. We are standing approximately one kilometre away from the Jellicoe Houses. The leaders would have a fit if they knew the Cadets were this close. If they get inside our Houses, we have to trade. If we get inside their tents, they have to trade.
I’m shivering from the cold and he must read a little panic in my eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he says before his whistle pierces my eardrum. A rope comes flying across and he grabs it. “Today, we’re just practising.”
Ben and Raffy are dumbfounded.
“They’re pla
I nod.
“Pretty gutsy,” Ben says with a whistle.
“How about the Townies?” Raffy asks. “We can ask for their help and finalise this deal.”
I shake my head. The Townies would want something from us. We don’t have much to give.
“Just say they get into the Houses?” she asks.
“Tell me the rule about invasion?” I say to her.
“You need six enemies in your territory to confirm it as an invasion. If they attempt twice and fail both times, we get to negotiate diplomatic immunity for the rest of their stay.”
“Today’s attempt was just two of them, so it doesn’t count.”
I look outside the window. Any movement sets me on edge. We’re studying Macbeth in Drama and any moment I expect Birnam Wood to come to Dunsinane. That would be just their thing.
“I’m going to Ha
I see the disappointment on both their faces.
“Taylor, please. This isn’t the time. We need to concentrate on the territory wars just for this week,” Raffy says.
I begin walking out of the room and they’re on my tail. “I want cows,” I tell them.
“Cows?”
Outside the House they are still trying to keep up. “This isn’t going to be like…that cat thing, is it?” Ben asks.
I see Raffy signal Ben to be quiet. Any talk of the drowning of the cat has been off-limits. Like an unwritten rule.
“Ha
“Ha
“Yes it is.” I continue walking.
Ben grabs my arm. “Then I’m taking over,” he says angrily. “Go work on Ha
“Manure,” I tell them. “All over her front garden. Perfect for growing vegetables.”
It’s like he wants to hit me with frustration. “You’re losing it!” he shouts. “No one wants to tell you that, but you…” I see the light go on. “…You are a genius.”
Raffy looks at him confused. “She’s a genius? I’m lost.”
“What he means is that we’re not giving in without a shit fight,” I tell them. “Literally.”
Strategies come in all shapes and sizes and as juvenile as this one is, it keeps me amused.
They come calling again late the next afternoon. Griggs is first. Territory war aside, he is a pleasure to observe, like he was built for flying through the air.
He picks himself up from his landing, inspecting his fatigues. Then he looks up to where I’m sitting on Ha
A war cry is heard from the other side and before he has time to warn them, at least six Cadets come flying over the river and land around him. They looked shocked, and I actually feel like giggling at their horror.
“We’re an Ag college,” I explain to them. “Not as good as the one in Yanco but we have livestock.”
“Cows?” Anson Choi asks, covering his nose.
“Pigs, too. And horses. Great for growing tomatoes.”
The Cadets are wa
“I’m going to throw up,” one of the guys says.
“Don’t feel too bad,” I explain. “Some of our lot did while they were laying out this stuff. Actually, right there where you’re standing.”
The Cadets look even more horrified, peering down, imagining the worst.
I point to the neutral path that is at least a forty-minute walk back to their camp. “It’s manure-free,” I offer. “And I do believe you have access to it.”