"Ain't no way you're using my binoculars to be a Peeping Tom," I said. However, there was another reason, too; I didn't want him to see Nanako crying.
"A peeping who?"
"It's an expression. It means...oh, never mind," I said.
"Please," Shorty begged.
"There's a reason these things are banned," I pointed out, looking down at his over eager face.
"Yeah, and that’s to stop us spying on North End and seeing what we're missing," said David, flicking his head to the north.
"I won't do that, honest," Shorty said sincerely.
"I’ve no doubt that’s the real reason, David,” I said. He'd hit the nail on the head. “But Shorty, seriously, would you want people spying on your mother and sister in their bedroom?"
"Ewww, of course not. Look, I promise I won't spy on anyone, I'll observe them for purely educational purposes."
"I. Ain't. Letting. You. Use. 'Em."
"You're no fun," he pouted.
David held up a sheet of blank paper and shook it. “Guys, focus. Paper plane time!”
“I’m in, hand over a sheet,” Michal said.
We mobbed David and grabbed sheets of paper, moved back to the stairwell exit so we could see, and set to work with frenetic zeal. Several minutes later, we stood in a line one step back from the edge of the roof.
"Putting a stone in the nose of your plane is cheating, Shorty," David said.
"Hey, what? Why, that would be dishonest, David. I give you my word there is no stone in my plane."
I leaned forward and clicked my tongue a couple of times. "Will you look at that, David, Shorty's telling the truth – he didn't put a stone in his plane."
"You see."
"He put in a piece of metal," I said.
Shorty looked up at me. "I don't like that clicking thing you do, Jones."
"We throw on the count of three!" David announced. "One. Two. Three. Throw!"
Five paper planes flew off the roof. Shorty's lead-nose plane flew straight and true, flying maybe twenty metres before it hit the road down below. Leigh's landscape-orientated plane was blown straight up by the slight updraft from the front of the building and disappeared behind us. Mine corkscrewed in a northerly direction, while Michal's long, narrow plane almost gave Shorty's a run for its money. However, the plane that got our attention was David's – tiny red and green lights at its wing tips blinked on and off as it sailed into the night.
"David, how did you...?" Michal stammered, voicing what we were all thinking.
"Trade secret."
"David, it's a piece of flat paper! How did you get lights in it?" Shorty demanded, upset his winning throw had been upstaged.
"Round two!" was David's come back.
We made paper planes of all shapes and sizes and tossed them off the roof for another fifteen minutes, littering the ground below with them, but then called it quits. If a Custodian night patrol was to spot us on the roof, we'd find ourselves in a spot of bother.
"There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you, Ethan," Michal said after we’d plonked ourselves down beside the stairwell exit.
"Okay, shoot."
"If you’re ever gonna do what I think you’re planning to do, you gotta tell us before you do it," he said.
"Can I have that in English please?"
"What Michal’s trying to say, Jones," David explained, "is that if you’re planning on doing a runner one day, you gotta give us advance warning so we can come with you if we want to."
"We talking about going jogging or something?" Shorty whispered to Leigh.
"No, dufus, they’re asking Jones to let us know if he’s gonna make a run for it when we’re out foraging one day," Leigh explained.
"As much as I’d like to do a runner, it’s not on my current list of things to do," I replied.
"Why ever not? What’s here that makes you wanna stay?" David demanded.
"My kid sister."
"She still sick?" Michal asked.
"Yeah."
"What’s that got to do with you?" Leigh asked.
"He buys her food – good food – and other stuff she needs," Michal answered for me.
"Why can’t your mother do that?" Shorty asked.
"She can’t afford it."
"That sucks."
"I know."
"All the same, you gotta tell us if you’re gonna change your mind, okay?" David said. "You’ve got a knack for spotting Skel ambushes, so if we were to make a run for it together, I reckon we’d make it."
"What about the Custodians, you forgettin’ they’re with us every day now? Trying to make a run for it won’t be so easy now," Leigh reminded us.
"We could lose them with our eyes closed," David said.
“And with our hands tied behind our backs,” Shorty added, giving David a high-five.
I held up my hands. "I hear what you’re saying, so yeah, if I’m ever gonna do a runner, I’ll let you know first. Just don’t hold your breath, okay? It’s not gonna happen anytime soon."
“Aw man, that sucks. I was getting all excited for a moment there,” Shorty pouted.
We kept chatting for a while and then I bade the others good night and sent them back downstairs, mostly because I had to disassemble the binoculars and hide the pieces, but also because I wanted to check on the Japanese girl.
She was still there, sitting with her back against the stairwell exit. She had put on a pair of very odd-looking goggles – they were opaque and had a button on the side, which she kept pressing from time to time. I must confess I was perplexed. I'd never seen anything even remotely similar to them.
I was about to call it quits when for a second time that day a vision-strength image burst into my mind. This time of a narrow walking track in the bush I’d never seen before. Gum trees grew on both sides, and the track was overgrown with ferns, wild grass, sticks and leaves. Once again, a powerful feeling of déjà vu persuaded me that this experience – of seeing this image while standing on the roof, had happened before. Bewildered, I tried to reason that it couldn't possibly be true, but then came the metallic taste followed by the sensation of falling. And like this morning, the strange attack concluded with intense stomach pain and every nerve ending in my body spiked with adrenaline.
I half sat, half collapsed onto the roof, breathing heavily as I waited for the after effects of the horrific experience to fade away. What was happening to me?
I had been in the bush on foraging trips in the past, but never on a bushwalking track. Was this a premonition of the future, about an event that was going to happen?
I lingered on the roof for another hour until, exhausted and sleepy, I stumbled down the eight flights of stairs to my flat. I could have used the elevator, but that would’ve meant breaking my vow to never use it. Stairs were an excellent medium for staying in shape.
The next morning I was surprised when I strolled into the Recycling-Works yard and saw our truck was back. Looking unaffected by its trip into North End as well. As I walked over to join my workmates, I ran my eyes along the battered body. Memories of yesterday’s encounters with the Skel and the Japanese ran through my mind. I hoped today would be a bit less exciting.
There was no sign of Sergeant King and his Custodians. In fact, we might even be sent a different squad since King lost half his men yesterday.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a Custodian Bushmaster Protected Mobility Vehicle roared down the street and backed slowly into the yard, parking parallel with our truck. The Bushmaster looked like a box on wheels, but from what I heard, it was bulletproof, impervious to mines, and coated with fire retardant paint. It was also very, very old – all our Bushmasters pre-dated the Apocalypse. Just about every part of them had been reconditioned or replaced at some stage over the years.
"Looks like they're expecting Skel today," Michal said dryly.
"Yeah, got a bit of a shock yesterday, they did." Shorty laughed.
“Two of them also got a bit dead.” I reminded them.
The Bushmaster's rear door swung open on well-oiled hinges – and wouldn’t you know it – out stepped Sergeant King, ready and willing to face the Skel again. My respect for the guy went up a notch.
Trajan, the boss, rushed outside to talk to King, no doubt thanking him for his squad’s wonderful effort in saving my team yesterday. I wonder what he'd say if he found out it was the other way around.
Hearing light footsteps in the street outside piqued my interest. I turned around and froze in shock when Nanako walked into the yard with Councillor Okada trailing behind her. She held a small, black box wrapped in a checked-pattern handkerchief.
Upon spying me, her petite, round face lit up with joy and she hurried over to me. She bowed briefly and held out her hands. "I made this for you."
I looked down at the beautiful lacquered wooden lunchbox and had no idea what to do. Just seeing her, a single girl, out here in the streets of Newhome – albeit with a chaperone – was a concept so unfamiliar that my mind whirled in confusion.
"For me?" was all I could think to say.
"It's obento." She nodded to encourage me to accept the home-cooked lunch.
Michal gave me a gentle shove, whispering, "Go on, accept it, you drongo."
I stumbled forward a step and took the beautiful lunchbox, trying not to stammer. "This is wonderful. Thank you, Nanako."
Sergeant King chose that moment to interrupt, casting a questioning glance at Nanako and Councillor Okada. "Okay boys, the day's not getting any younger. Saddle up and move out!"
He could have at least greeted them, the unsociable sod.
We clambered into the truck and as Michal drove, Nanako walked to the gate with Councillor Okada. She stood there quietly, watching us drive off. I flashed her a warm smile and waved, clutching her unexpected gift with my other hand. She bowed, and held it until we were out of sight.
As we headed for the town gates, I wondered what had prompted her to give me such a gift. Did she feel indebted to me for saving her life yesterday? If that was the case, I had to tell her that she didn't owe me anything. It had been my honour to save her from the Skel.
It took us multiple stops and almost the whole morning to find a source of non-corrosive metals to strip out. There was no way we were gonna return to the Victoria Street apartments, and I couldn’t risk using my flash sonar again. We eventually found a virtual gold mine in a street of ransacked one-story houses. They still had their external gas hot water systems.
The Custodians gave the work site a quick once over when we arrived and then retired to the Bushmaster, where one of them operated the roof mounted machine gun at all times.
After we had removed and disassembled several hot water systems to cannibalise the parts we wanted, my watch chimed one o’clock.
My workmates and I ripped off our gloves, wiped our hands clean with antibacterial hand wipes, and climbed onto the truck’s bonnet or roof to eat, just as we did every day.
Sitting cross-legged on the bonnet, I carefully removed the handkerchief from the lacquered lunchbox, aware that my workmates looked on with baited breath. I lifted the lid and gasped. The partitioned tray was filled with a whole host of painstakingly prepared delicacies, the likes of which I had never seen. There were tomato slices with sculptured rabbit ears, slices of carrot carved into flowers, and marinated chicken pieces. There were slices of bread curled about beans, tendrils of fried fish, and even rolls of scrambled egg. Beneath this tray was another, this one filled with fruits and vegetables, each imaginatively presented.
“Well, do we share?” I asked.
“Get real,” Michal laughed, “She made it for you, Ethan. We ain’t gonna touch it.”
"Hey, speak for yourself," Shorty complained.
"Yeah, I think I'd sign up for some of that," David agreed.
Michal glared at the others and they quickly backed down.
“I think she likes you.” Shorty ribbed me with a knowing smile.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, come on, if you ain't gonna share it, taste it and tell us what it's like,” David demanded impatiently.
And so began the most delightful culinary experience of my life. “It tastes even better than it looks!” I exclaimed with my mouth full.
As I ate, I imagined a young, petite Japanese girl getting up early, buying fresh food from the market, and slaving away in her kitchen as she prepared the meal. And this is the bit that blew me away – she did it for me! I also thought of her walking all the way to the Recycling-Works to deliver it by hand. She must have asked someone where I worked, including when I started my shift. I was deeply moved by her gesture – and with the strict segregation of males and females in our society, I wondered if this was the first time something like this had happened in Newhome.
Shorty said Nanako liked me, but how could that be possible when we had just met and spoken only a few words to each other?
Having consumed the obento to the very last morsel, I packed up the lunchbox and made mental plans to drop it off at North End's gates this evening with instructions to return it. Nanako had clearly brought it with her from Hamamachi and as it looked quite valuable, she would want it back.
"Ethan, I've been thinking about yesterday, and something bothers me," Michal said when we finished eating.
"Go on."
"Excluding yesterday, we've fought Skel, what, four times in two years? Three of those times were in the middle or outer eastern suburbs, and there's never been more than three or four of them. So, have there been other occasions where you’ve 'detected' Skel and steered us away from them?"
Michal was on the ball all right. The times we fought Skel was when they tried to jump us while we were in the act of stripping out a place. "Yes, on several occasions. And to pre-empt your next question, it was normally in the outer eastern suburbs."
Michal met my gaze. "So why were there twelve yesterday, and practically on Newhome's doorstep?"
"I’ve been pondering the same thing. I hope it was just a one off, but life is never that simple, is it?"
Glancing at the other three sitting on the truck's cab, Michal indicated Leigh, who was staring into space with a dreamy expression.
"What's up, Leigh?” I called out. “Never seen you this quiet before – can’t find something to grumble about?"
"Leigh's been doing something lately that he shouldn’t be," David answered somewhat testily.
"Like what?" I asked, curious. Whatever Leigh was doing, David was green with envy.
"You don't want to know, Jones," Shorty said with a giant smirk, before adding in a whisper, "but he's not a model citizen these days."
"Please don't do anything stupid, Leigh," I implored.
"Too late for that!" Shorty laughed.
"Keep your voices down, you drongos!" Leigh hissed.
I grabbed his forearm and made eye contact. “I don’t know what this is about, Leigh, and I don’t want to, but whatever you're doing, cut it out before it’s too late. You hear me?”
“Whatever!” he snapped back.
I don’t think my message got through to him, so I gave up and jumped down to stretch. "Let's get back to it, guys. We don't want the Custodians keeping tabs on the length of our lunch breaks."