Eco Warrior (8 page)

WE WERE UP BEFORE the sun. I took three water bottles, a bag of dog biscuits, my jacket, hat, sunscreen, sleeping mat, one-man tent, two hundred dollars, and squeezed it all into a knapsack. The knapsack hung over one shoulder, and the tool bag hung over the other, criss-crossing my front. I climbed out with Hollie, put him down on the bank with all of the stuff, and told him to wait there. He didn’t like that, but he obeyed me. Then I went back to the sub.

I motored out to the small breakwater that protected the pier. It was just a hundred feet away, but the harbour floor dropped to seventy-five feet there. I wanted to set the sub on the bottom, out of sight, and out of temptation. By the Law of the Sea, a foreign submarine had to stay on the surface inside a country’s three-mile zone. I knew that. But I wasn’t actually leaving the area of the pier I was just submerging within it. I planned to take a longer hike with Hollie, because I wanted to see a little of Australia before we went back to sea, and I wasn’t comfortable leaving the sub where people could climb in and steal stuff, or fiddle around with the controls, or even start the engine and head out to sea. Any sub could become incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. I figured the harbour police would agree with that, and would understand me wanting to hide it because they were the ones who gave me the isolated berth in the first place.

But setting the sub on the bottom was not my favourite thing to do, because it meant I had to open the hatch under water, climb out, shut the hatch, seal it, and swim to the surface. I had done it a number of times before, but it was always unnerving. If I could be as fast as the last time, only a couple of feet of water would enter the sub, and the sump pumps would remove that in less than ten minutes. If something went wrong, and the sub completely flooded, it would probably take an hour for the pumps to empty it. There wasn’t much danger to me climbing out, unless I slipped, fell, and banged my head. But I knew that wouldn’t happen. I was so comfortable under water. I could hold my breath for two minutes when I was calm, and that was plenty of time to seal the hatch and swim to the surface. Climbing
into
the sub was much harder.

And so, I descended to the bottom and shut everything off, except for the pale blue emergency light that used very little power but let me make my way around inside. I picked up everything off the floor and put it on my bed. I did a double check to make sure the compartments in the stern were sealed, then climbed the ladder, took a few deep breaths, and spun the wheel. I waited until it was completely unsealed before pushing the hatch up and letting the sea flood into the sub. No matter how many times I did this, it was always a shock. On the outside, I was calm, and my movements were quick, careful, and measured. Inside, I always had to fight down a feeling of panic. I pulled myself out against the incredible force of water trying to push me back down. It was so strong! I felt like a rat crawling out of a flooding sewer drain. But once I was out, shutting the hatch was easy. I spun the wheel from the outside, sealed it, and swam to the surface. When I stuck my head out of the water, I saw a yellowish orange streak in the east. The sun had travelled across the desert, and was about to reach the sea. It was time for a seriously long walk.

Hollie greeted me excitedly when I stepped from the water, and, for the first time since arriving in Perth, so did Seaweed. I was so glad to see him because we were walking away from the coast now, and he wouldn’t be able to spot the sub, and would wonder where we were. Maybe he would think we had left without him. I knew that Seaweed would always survive wherever he was, because he was tough and resourceful, but I sure didn’t want to lose him.

We walked to the mouth of Fremantle Harbour once again, and then followed it inland until it became the Swan River. It was dark when we started out, but by the time we reached the point at which the harbour became a river, it was late morning. After being cooped up in a submarine for a whole month, it wasn’t hard to walk all day. And that’s what I intended to do for several more days.

It was especially nice once we were walking beside the river, because the river was beautiful, and lined with trees and parks, and we often had shade to walk in, and rest in, and later to sleep in. We also had access to shops for the first day, which weren’t too far from the river, and pizza, and another of the pleasures I missed at sea—candy. I stuffed my pockets with it, and ate it pretty much constantly on the first day. Then I had to buy a toothbrush and toothpaste, because I had forgotten to bring mine along, and my teeth had grown a thick layer of plaque on them. I didn’t give Hollie or Seaweed any candy because it wasn’t good for them, but I did share a bag of popcorn.

The river narrowed surprisingly quickly as we travelled upstream beside it. By the end of the first day, we were standing on the bank of a gently flowing current that I could easily have swum across with one breath. It was hard to believe we were just miles away from where the river turned into one of the world’s greatest harbours.

In one of the last shops along the way, I was able to buy a frozen pizza. I carried it for a few hours to let it thaw, and the three of us sat on the riverbank and ate it raw beneath the shade of a humongous tree, with hundreds of snake-like roots that spread around us like a basket. Cooked pizza was a lot better. Still, we were happy to have it.

The soil of the riverbank where we sat was dry, spongy, and soft, and I figured it was a good place to sleep. We were outside of the city now. There were a few scattered houses, very few shops, and some farms. The whole area was incredibly beautiful, although unbelievably dry. In Canada, we’d call this a drought. In fact, Australia looked like what Canada might look like if we had a drought that lasted for a hundred years.

Under the branches of the tree I rolled out my mat and pulled my jacket over myself like a blanket. Hollie made himself cosy on the ground beside me. Seaweed sat by my feet, facing the river. I felt safe having the nose and ears of a dog, and the eyes of a seagull, to watch for spiders and snakes at night. Australia had a
lot
of poisonous spiders and snakes. As we drifted to sleep, we could hear ripples in the river, but mostly it was silent. Looking beyond the treetops, I watched the stars blink silently, and thought what a wonderful life we had. But I couldn’t watch for long because the weight of sleep fell heavily upon me.

Waking from one of the best sleeps of my life, I stood up and stretched as the crew stretched. I rolled up the sleeping mat, packed up our things, and headed off to find a grocery store. It wasn’t easy to find one now, and we had to walk quite a ways from the river before we spotted a small store that was attached to a house. Stepping inside, I found that it took my eyes awhile to adjust to the darkness. The first thing I spied were bags of candy, which I couldn’t resist. I also bought a jar of peanut butter, a jar of jam, a loaf of bread, a bag of granola, four oranges, four bananas, a bottle of milk, and a jug of water. I had to carry the water jug in my hands, but it had a handle that made that easier, and I could switch hands. We couldn’t go into a dry nature reserve without water, and I didn’t know if the water in the river was safe to drink.

As I stood at the cash with Hollie at my feet, waiting for the clerk to ring in our groceries, I looked up at the TV screen above his head, which was showing the news. There was a picture of a ship down at the harbour—a tanker. Then there was a picture of a really large propeller under water, with two blades missing! I froze! The sound on the TV was low, and it was too difficult to make out what the news people were saying, but they showed a sketch of a small submarine, a sketch of a young man, and a small dog. My head started to spin, and I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to ask the man at the counter to turn up the volume but didn’t want to draw attention to us. I paid for our groceries, thanked the man, and went out the door. My heart was thumping in my chest.

Outside, I stared at the telephone booth. Maybe I could call them and tell them that it wasn’t me, and that the sub is still there at the bottom of the pier. I could explain how we had walked all day yesterday, and slept by the river, and couldn’t possibly have sabotaged the tanker. That was a good idea. I stepped inside the booth and reached for the phone book. Then I hesitated. If I called them, and told them it wasn’t me, they’d ask me if I knew who it was, and I’d have to tell them I didn’t know, because there was no way I would tell on Jewels. Problem was, I wasn’t very good at lying, especially under pressure. And they would most certainly put me under pressure if they brought me in for questioning. And if they did bring me in—which they would surely do—and kept me locked up for a month or two while they figured it all out, what would become of Hollie and Seaweed?

I stepped out of the phone booth and walked slowly back to the river. I needed to think it through. Someone had sabotaged the tanker, and had been put up to it by Jewels, who had received the idea from me. Did that make me responsible? Or was it possible that somebody else had come up with the same idea? That seemed unlikely, though I supposed it was possible. Either way, they thought it had been me. And they would come looking for me now. And I doubted they’d bother to search the bottom of the pier. They’d think we had sailed away. They’d search for us at sea.

Chapter Ten

WE FOLLOWED THE RIVER into Walyunga National Park, which was filled with trees, rocks, hills, and gorges, and, with its dry red earth, was what I imagined Mars might look like if it had trees. The walk along the river was well shaded, secluded, and wonderful, even though I was nervous in my gut all day. But I had come up with a plan.

Since the police, coast guard, and navy would be searching for us at sea, and would assume we were trying to sail away; then, after a week or so, when they hadn’t found us, they’d surely think we were gone for good, and would stop searching. So all we had to do was stay away from the pier for about a week or so, sneak in at night, motor the sub under another ship, and follow it out to sea. We’d appear as one vessel on sonar, and be undetectable by radar. Then, once we were out of Australian waters, I would contact the Perth harbour police on shortwave, and explain exactly what had happened—that it hadn’t been me, and that I didn’t know who it was.

I thought it was a good plan, and it might have worked, except for one very unlucky moment. Just before entering the park, I went searching for a small store to buy more water and snacks. We were eating and drinking more food and water than on the sub. If we were going to disappear into the woods for a week, we had to have more of both. But the only store I could find was inside a small garage, and didn’t offer much. I went in without taking my hat off, and left Hollie outside in the tool bag, in the shade. I felt confident no one would recognize me from the picture that had been on the news, especially when it didn’t even look like me.

There was a gruff looking man sitting behind the counter eating a bowl of soup out of a Styrofoam bowl when I came in. He looked up when he saw me, and said, “G’day.”

“G’day!” I said, trying to sound Australian. I picked up a jug of water, a bottle of milk, five bags of nacho chips, three bags of trail mix, a box of cookies, a handful of chocolate bars, and a large bag of peppermints. You needed lots of sugar when you were walking all day. As I put the things down on the counter, beside a pile of newspapers, I saw the story of the tanker sabotage on the very first page, including the sketch of Hollie and me. I pretended to ignore it. That’s when another man came inside the store, carrying Hollie in the tool bag.

“Is this your dog?” he said.

I turned and looked at him. He seemed kind, the sort of person who loves animals.

“Yes,” I said. “He’s mine.”

“I heard something whining outside and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Then I saw him in the bag. You didn’t have to leave him outside, mate. We let dogs in the store. He’s a cute little fellah, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.” I turned around to pay for my things, but now the man behind the counter was staring at Hollie. Then he stared at me. And then he stared at the newspaper. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were a little wider than before. I paid for our stuff, thanked both men, and left the garage, but I could feel their eyes on my back as we walked away.

Had he recognized us? I was pretty sure that he had. When we reached the park, we disappeared into the woods, and spent the rest of the day hiking up and down the hills, heading east. But I couldn’t stop worrying about the man in the garage. Would he report us to the police? I had to assume that he would.

That night, I heard the engine of a jeep roaming through the park as we slept in our tent. Was it police, or was it just park officials on regular patrol? I had pitched the tent beneath the boughs of a tree in the most secluded spot I could find. I wanted to stay inside to guard against snakes and spiders, and Hollie stayed with me. Seaweed slept on the roof, but kept sliding off noisily and waking us up. At one point, the engine sounded very near, and I lay still, wondering if they had found us. Then the sound went away, but I couldn’t tell if that was because they had turned the engine off, or had just disappeared over a hill. Suddenly, I heard what I thought were boots on the ground. I sat up. They were coming so fast. How could they have found us in the middle of the night? They couldn’t have spotted us from the air. And we hadn’t lit a fire, or used any light. It didn’t make sense. How could they have found us?