Carrier (10 page)

I willed my legs to run, but my body remained in a crouch, frozen with fear.

It wasn't until the car slowed to a sudden stop, right in front of me, that I finally took off, like a streak of lightening through the storm. For several minutes I ran blindingly, stopping only when I crashed into a large, prickly bush, its thorny edged leaves cutting my skin wherever it was exposed.

I rolled onto my belly and crawled to hide behind the offending bush. Cold, muddy water leached into the sleeves of my jacket and the pants of my legs while I lay waiting, my breath held. Seconds, then minutes, passed. I strained my ears to hear the idling engine but only heard the hum of the rain.

Perhaps they'd left.

For several minutes, I remained wedged up against the bush, until the rain eased up and I could tolerate prickly leaves digging into my face no more.

I leapt to my feet, but didn't take more than a step before two arms wrapped around me in a tight hold. I tried to scream but a cold, wet hand clamped over my mouth. Alice's broken body immediately sprung to mind and I began kicking my legs and bucking my body, trying to connect the back of my skull with my attacker's face.

‘Lena, it's me, Patrick,' he shouted into my ear.

I spun around to face him and the relief at seeing Patrick's face, as opposed to a Carrier or an alien, was so great that I collapsed against his chest because my jellified legs could no longer hold me up.

Patrick brought me down with him into a crouch, his arms still wrapped around me. He was shivering from head to toe and just as soaked as I was.

‘You're alive,' I whispered, shaking my head and nearly laughing because I was so happy to see him and even more happy to know that Mum hadn't shot him.

‘Did you see that car? It means others out there alive. What if...what if…' My words came out in incoherent blurts between huge gasps of breath.

‘I don't know what it means,' answered Patrick, his face pensive while droplets of rain dripped down his tanned cheeks and fell from his chin. His breath made little clouds of heat while he spoke. ‘We don't know who these people are or if they're safe.'

I nodded and stood when he released me, easing my backpack from my shoulders halfway so I could check it was still zipped up.

‘But that person had petrol in his car. It must mean that some parts of the country are okay, or at least getting rebuilt,' I said, circling my arms to draw my pack back up.

Patrick shook his head. ‘It could mean anything. Whoever was driving could have stocked up on petrol or kept a storage tank on their property before the spread. It's possible this person or people could be driving for the first time, to find out if anybody else is alive out here. Or they could have other plans. Who knows?' His greenish-grey eyes met mine, and they were dark with unspoken fears that sent a chill through my insides. ‘But we'd better get out of here before they come back.'

‘Is your house close by?' I asked, taking in our surrounds now that the rain had eased up a little and the landscape was visible again. Thankfully there wasn't another soul or motor vehicle in sight.

Patrick shook his head and bits of his dark, sopping hair slapped against the side of his face. ‘No, we're a few hours away and we need shelter for tonight before this storm really hits. There's a cave nearby. Come on, we'd better hurry.' We started walking briskly, Patrick leading the way. With the weather like this and no sign of the sun, I had no way of knowing my east from west.

‘So you've stayed in this cave before?' I asked, between breaths as we started up a slight hill.

‘Heaps of times — mostly when I've been caught out in a dust storm or rain like this. But when we were kids, Markus and I used to sneak out and spend the night.' He raised his eyes to the black clouds. ‘Looks like the sky's about to open up again.'

A great gust of howling wind came at us from beyond the hill, bowling me back, causing me to reach out for Patrick. He swore and caught me by the hand, drawing me in.

‘Don't worry, we're close,' he shouted over the screeching wind. I nodded my head and, clinging to his arm, pushed forward through the icy blast. Large, cold splotches of rain hit my forehead and the top of my head in heavy splats.

‘Can we build a fire in this cave of yours?' I shouted through chattering teeth.

‘First thing we'll do!' he shouted back, half turning so I could see his smile. ‘Come on, let's run.'

We ran side by side, our arms latched together. I couldn't help but think of Alice and of how she'd been denied this. Tears filmed my eyes, but the wind whipped them away before they had a chance to fall.

‘Did you find my note last night?'

‘Yes,' Patrick said between ragged breaths. ‘Thanks.' He remained silent for a long while before adding, ‘I don't think I'm going to find my dad. He would have come back to us if he was alive. It's like Markus all over again.'

I slowed to a jog, my lungs burning.

Patrick, whose face had grown tight with emotion, waved at me to stop.

‘Catch your breath for a second. We're nearly there.'

The rain started to pelt down. Sapphire's words reverberated inside my head, as did Alice's from her diary.

‘I think my cousin Alice, knew Markus. She kept a diary and was going to run away with him.'

Patrick, who was resting his hands on his knees, looked up sharply.

‘What do you mean? How — '

‘She died the same night she planned to leave with him,' I said, between breaths.

Patrick bowed his head before standing up and wiping the streaming rain from his face. ‘Do you know when she died? What date?' he shouted over the rain, cupping his hands over his eyes. I nodded, shielding my face in the same way.

‘October the 5th.'

Patrick shook his head and stared at the ground.

‘That's the day Markus disappeared. He was going to meet a girl and bring her back to stay with us.' Patrick looked at me, with wet, red eyes. ‘When he never came home I figured that he had run away with her...and forgot all about us.'

‘He didn't get to run away with Alice,' I said, my voice tight. ‘Alice died that night and I think Markus may have died trying to fend off her killers.'

Patrick stayed quiet for a long time, pacing back and forth while the wind swirled his wet hair around his head in some crazy dance. When he finally spoke up, his voice was hard and stiff with contained grief. ‘I'm sorry about your cousin, about Alice.' He shook his head. ‘I always thought Markus had found a life.' His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. ‘Even though it was a kick in the guts to think he'd left us all, it was better than thinking he was dead.'

‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything.' I reached out and touched his arm, but he brushed me away and wiped a forearm across his rain and possibly tear-streaked face.

‘Don't be,' he shouted above the howling wind.

We started moved again, this time a slow jog.

‘Maybe we could pretend that they ran away together and travelled for miles to the coast and started a new life, where thousands of others are doing the same,' I shouted through the rain.

Patrick turned sharply and met my gaze, the rage in his eyes quickly softening.

‘They could be sending for us…any day now,' he said, between breaths. ‘Markus is going to teach me how to surf when we visit the coast.'

‘Alice is taking me shopping for a new dress,' I added, a real smile forming on my lips, as though I believed my own lies.

After running another half an hour through the pelting rain, Patrick seized my hand in his, sending a ray of warmth shooting up my arm. ‘It's not that far now,' he said.

‘By the way,' I said while running to keep up with Patrick's long strides. ‘I've got some smoked rabbit and dried figs in my pack. We can eat some tonight and save the rest for your brothers tomorrow.'

Patrick swallowed thickly, his pace slowing for a moment, and when he turned his head to look at me I thought he might stop and rip my backpack off to eat the food then and there.

‘Can't wait,' he said, with true hunger in his eyes, and for the first time I noticed the way his cheekbones and jaw jutted beneath his skin.

‘So, do you think your family will like me?' I said, to take my mind off Patrick's lean frame and because I truly wanted to know more about his little brothers.

Patrick laughed between pants of breath and I had to sneak a peek at his face, because he was truly something beautiful when he smiled. He slowed his jog to a walk and let go of my hand.

‘Of course they'll like you. They'll probably fall in love with you,' he added, his voice lowered so that I could only just hear it above the rain.

‘No they won't,' I answered back, my voice just as low, but inside my heart was flying soaring over the barren landscape before me. I was going to meet a
family
and they might actually
like
me. Why on earth had Mum not wanted our families to meet?

Patrick nodded to his right and from out of nowhere, it seemed, a large rock face appeared.

‘There's our home for the night. Cave sweet cave.'

I dropped to my knees and followed Patrick, crawling into the mouth of the cave, the small opening double my width but half my height. Before I could reach into my backpack for my torch to light up the pitch-black interior, I heard a click and everything illuminated around me.

The cave was spacious, about the size of the living room at Desert Downs, except it had a low ceiling. Patrick beamed the light form his torch across the rust-coloured walls. At the end it narrowed into a tunnel and I shivered, imagining the kinds of slithery creatures that might live there. On the right-hand wall, the largest wall of the cave, I caught a glimpse of some kind of drawings.

‘Wait, Patrick, shine the light back over there to your right. I think I saw some indigenous art.'

Patrick ignored me and shone the torch on the opposite wall, which was blank.

I reached into my backpack and flicked my own torch on so that I could see for myself, but as I drew closer with the light, it was clear that these were not indigenous drawings. These etchings were modern and had names scratched in beneath them.

A hunting scene depicted a man with two sons who looked like Patrick, in another scene a mother held her small dark-haired child. There was a family portrait of various aged boys, eight of them with their mother and father. I read the names —
Mum, Dad, Markus, Me, James, Joshua, David, Matt, Lukas, George.

‘Don't worry about those. They're just...something I do when I'm bored.'

‘They're great.' My eyes roved further along the rusty-orange walls to where several women had been drawn. Some had long red hair, others blonde and brunette, their facial features and the detail in their clothing so intricate and fine.

‘Let's get a fire started. Come on, they're just stupid drawings,' he said, his voice edgy and tight.

When I didn't respond or turn away from the paintings, I heard Patrick sigh and then the thud of his backpack as it was thrown to the ground.

I was about to ask why he was so mad but stopped myself when my eyes rested on the last drawing, the one of a naked woman, a life-sized naked woman. She was outrageously curvy and the look in her eye made my stomach flutter and my face grow hot.

Okay. So now I knew why he didn't want me looking. I, too, would have been mortified if anybody had ever found out about my picture of Jeffery C and how I used to kiss it sometimes. Maybe Patrick kissed this fantasy woman when he was alone. Maybe he imagined himself alone with her, in this cave. My face burned just to think of it.

I fumbled around for the off switch to my torch, turned around and muttered, ‘Sorry.' But Patrick ignored me and seized a chunk of coal from an old fire before charging towards the beautiful naked woman and marring her image with great streaks of black.

‘Don't, Patrick, please!' I grabbed his arm and could feel the tightening of his muscles as he continued to scrub out his piece of art. I gave up wrestling him and threw my backpack down.

‘Wait. Stop! Promise me you'll stop and let me show you something first before you destroy her anymore.'

Patrick hesitated and drew his arm away from the wall, his head hanging down.

‘What is it?' he said, refusing eye contact.

Quickly, before I could stop the crazy thing I was about to do, I rooted around inside my backpack until my fingers touched on my most precious possession.

Patrick remained as stiff as a board by the wall, his back to me.

‘Here. This is
my
picture.' I reached around and held it in front of Patrick. He took it and peered down at it with interest.

‘I don't know who this man is, but I know his name is Jeffery C. I used to kiss him every night. I would still do it, but I had to stop because I was wearing away his head.' My confession left me with a hot face and an overworked heart, but at least now we were even.

Patrick gave me a funny sideways glance, but didn't laugh. ‘I know this guy,' he said, staring back at the picture. ‘I mean, I don't personally know him. But we have some movies of his.' He handed it back to me. ‘I've never watched them though, not any movie. Mum used to tell us the stories while we each took a turn to hold the covers on different days of the week. My day was Sunday.' He half-smiled and scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks tinted pink. ‘But I can show you the movie covers, more pictures of this actor, when we get to my place.'

‘That would be great.'

An awkward silence followed, broken only when Patrick's eyes crinkled up at the corners with amusement. ‘You nearly wore away his head?'

He must have seen the look on my face because he threw up his hands.

‘Hey, there's nothing wrong with kissing pictures...' he looked at his feet and scratched the back of his head, ‘…especially when the real thing isn't around.'