Occasionally, almost unwillingly, my eyes flicked open and I saw shadows growing deeper. I craned my neck again. Tobe was bathed in a pool of light on the far side of the wire grill. He turned, looked at me, his face monstrous, hideous, wrong.
I lowered my head. I closed my eyes.
The ride slowly became smoother. The roar softened, started purring. The on-off drumming stopped for good. The lull kept on, the eye of the storm soothing us. I was cast adrift on a river of calm and I went with it. Time must have passed.
And then the purr started to grow louder again, becoming a roar full of fury, breaking me from my daze.
The ride became rougher.
I screamed. Once, twice, a third time. The transport rocked, bounced, almost rolled over. The stretcher strained its moorings, pushed them too far, rolled free, and took me with it. I closed my eyes.
And then there was nothing.
People were screaming. Tobe’s voice, others I didn’t recognise. They were a garbled mess. One voice cut through the fog, higher and lighter than all the rest. But it was as blurred as the others were.
I felt rough hands grab me and pull me to my feet. People were on either side of me, holding me up.
And then nothing.
The full moon shone down on me. A squat building loomed. Old. Somehow familiar. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I felt myself being dragged along. And then hands were holding mine. Hands soft and strong at the same time.
And then nothing
A door slammed. A roar, the same roar, fading into the night.
And then nothing.
The hands let go. I was falling, falling, falling.
Nothing.
ELEVEN
I was instantly awake, as if I had been flicked on at the switch. I tried to call out. I tried to move. Pain pinned me down. I stared at the ceiling, at the cobwebbed rafters of the pub. I rasped my thanks.
Home, or near enough.
The air was heavy with smoke, deadening the smell of liquor and sweat. Lanterns flickered, casting shadows every which way. People were talking, arguing, a barrage of voices. I closed my eyes, let the voices wash over me.
‘Look, mate, you’d be wasting your bloody time.’
‘Don’t dare patronise me!’
‘Fuck off, Klaus. All I’m doing is telling it how it is.’
I put it together: Tobe and Old Man Veidt.
‘Don’t think I am stupid because I am old man. I know what you are trying to do.’
‘Look…’
‘Don’t bother, my mind is made up. And no need asking my wife.’
‘She can choose for herself. How about it, Mrs V?’
Typical.
‘Tobias, I am sorry, my husband, he is right,’ Old Woman Veidt said, her voice sad.
‘Your husband’s talking shit, Mrs V. He didn’t see what Bill and I saw. None of you did.’
A torrent of language cut Tobe off.
‘My uncle, he asks why this is our problem.’ The First Country captain, his voice the same rich velvet as his elder. Another torrent of language followed. ‘And why you would expect us to come with you.’
The uncle laughed.
‘I’m not expecting anything. I’m just telling you what we saw.’
‘Why would they come here?’ A new voice, bored and flat.
I tried calling out again. Nothing.
‘Why would they bother?’ Someone else. The voice was almost the same, only pitched a little lower.
‘We’re a tiny town…’
‘…in the middle of nowhere.’
It clicked: Max and Maxine. Twins. Weird.
‘They’ll come, no doubt about that. Do you think we’ll be left alone forever? Fuck, you two are as thick as they come.’
‘There’s no need…’
‘…to get nasty.’
‘Settle down, Tobe.’ Another new voice. How many people had he dragged out?
‘Piss off, Sheldon, there’s no time to fart around. The Creeps are out there somewhere, somewhere close. If you don’t believe me, go take another butcher’s at the transport.’
No one challenged him. I somehow moved my broken body, shuffled around on the couch, hoping someone would notice me, would bring me some water.
But no one did.
‘Anyway, I love this place. Why would I leave if I didn’t have to?’
‘Well, you aren’t the most reliable bloke.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t play silly buggers, Tobe. You know what I mean.’
Typical Tobe and Sheldon. They were too alike, they might as well have been piss and vinegar.
‘Sheldon, you’re scared, that’s all.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yeah, it is. You’re too scared to leave town, you’ve been here too long. I get it.’
‘Don’t you lecture me about this town! At least I’m here when people need me. Not like you, running away all the time.’
‘My comings and goings don’t seem to bother you when I’m fetching things you need. So what’s this really about? Why don’t you enlighten me? That’d be a bit of fun, don’t you reckon? Stick the boot into Tobe for a bit. Bring the wife and kids, fun for the whole family.’
‘Look.’
‘Piss off.’
‘Boys!’ Another new voice, soft steel, take-no-shit tones. Louise.
I smiled a tiny smile. I tried to call her name. I barely managed a whisper.
‘Whatever problems you two have with each other can wait. Even if Tobe’s wrong—and I don’t think he is—we should hear him out.’
Unconvinced voices, a mumble of maybes.
‘We owe him that.’
‘I don’t owe him shit.’ A gruff voice: the Kumari Kid.
‘Fine. Almost all of us owe him that. Happy?’
‘I’m all right. I could do with another drink.’
A sudden slap.
‘Boy, don’t be so rude.’ Another new voice.
Mrs Kumari, I guessed. People laughed. My tiny smile grew a little wider.
‘Ow, Mum! Fuck.’
Another slap. More laughter.
‘You watch your mouth, boy. Now, apologise to Louise.’
‘Sorry, Lou.’
‘You’re welcome… So, where was I?’
No one answered.
‘Yeah, okay, um… Look, the transport didn’t come from nowhere. That alone means we should hear Tobe out. Agreed?’
A mumbled agreement, and then silence.
‘Tobe?’
‘Right, shit, sorry… So, that’s pretty much what happened and what we saw and what I reckon.’
A group exhalation of frustration, followed by a fresh torrent of language.
‘If that’s all you have to say, then we are done.’
Silence met the First Country folk. I heard their chairs scrape the floor, the fall of their feet as they walked out the door, the bang of it slamming behind them.
And then the questions started.
‘You what?’
‘And then?’
‘Don’t tell us that…
‘…that’s all you have to say.’
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘How many dead, do you reckon?’
Finally, an intelligent question.
‘Mate, we didn’t really have time to count. Hundreds, I guess.’
More followed.
‘Did you see any locals?’
‘How long ago, do you think?’
‘Any survivors?’
I had a question of my own: why hadn’t anyone checked on me?
‘Anything worth scavenging?’
‘Who built the wall?’
‘What do we do?’
At that question, everyone fell quiet. I heard drinks being poured, bush tobacco being lit, chairs being shuffled.
‘That’s the point, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t see why we have to do anything.’
‘Shut up, Klaus!’
A chorus, half a dozen voices. Someone laughed. The mood lightened a little.