Lonesome Howl (9 page)

Tonight is a first for lots of things.

I want to hold that feeling

as long as possible.

Lucy rolls gently onto her side

and puts her arm around me.

I close my eyes,

and all I see is her face,

all I hear is her breath,

all I feel is her touch.

I go back to sleep,

happy to be here.

NINE
Morning

Lucy: nightmare

A shout!

I wake in panic.

Did I hear a cry from the forest?

I crawl to the entrance

and listen –

a faint breeze shivers the leaves.

The mist is clearing.

Somebody, something is out there,

maybe staring back at me,

watching, waiting.

Jake's steady breathing

comes from the dark.

Do I answer?

If I call out I'll scare Jake.

Was it a nightmare?

What if it's him, hunting for me?

Dad blundering about in the bush,

getting angrier with every stumble.

I peer into the murky darkness,

wanting to shout,

‘You can't find me.

You can't touch me.

You can't hurt me anymore.'

He's a menace,

a shadow slouching behind me today

when I hurry back to Jake's farm

to get help.

But I won't let him find me.

I hope he gets lost in the dense woods

and never makes his way out.

Let him feel small.

Let him know what it's like to be scared.

Lucy: the muffled sound

A muffled sound rises from the valley

and a rush of wind shakes the trees.

A branch snaps.

Someone
is
out there,

moving below me.

I stare into the gloom

and see a flash in the distance.

Torchlight!

He's out there, searching for me.

What if he finds this cave?

Jake and me?

I crawl back inside,

my nightmare becoming real.

Getting closer.

No!

I shut my eyes tight

against the forest

and its invader.

I wrap my arms around Jake,

gently over his sleeping body.

He won't find me with Jake.

I shudder at the thought of what he'd do.

He can't see us together.

I whisper,

‘I'm leaving to get help.

You sleep. I'll be back with your dad.'

Jake grunts, half asleep.

I won't let him find me here.

I'll face him alone,

if I have to.

Lucy: the shadows

I leave Jake with the food and water,

move slowly to the entrance

and step out into the first hint of morning.

I inch down the track, carefully,

remembering Jake's fall,

yesterday.

So long ago.

At the bottom of the hill,

I take a deep breath

and plunge into the forest,

ready for anything.

I pick up a fallen branch

as thick as my arm.

I need something to hold,

to give me courage.

A walking stick, I tell myself.

I follow the track

slowly picking my way through the undergrowth.

Every step I take is closer to him,

standing there, flashing his torch,

and grinning.

Smug because he's got me.

I grip the branch and stop.

He won't find me.

I'm smarter than he is.

There's a way to outwit him.

I know he'll keep to the track.

I'm sure of it.

He'll be too scared of getting lost in the bush

and lumbering about for ages.

It's simple.

I won't take the track.

I'll do what every animal does.

There's safety in the bush.

If I keep the first glow of the sun in front of me,

slightly to my right,

I'll be heading towards home.

I push into the forest

that gives me cover

and a chance to escape.

Lucy listens

The hardest part

is listening to every sound,

waiting for him to appear from behind a tree

near the track,

wet and furious,

and both of us

miles from anywhere.

My step quickens.

I try to get into a rhythm –

‘My dad is an arsehole,

my dad is an arsehole' –

but it doesn't work.

All it does is bring him closer

in these lonely woods.

He lurks,

a scowl tattooed across his face,

and all I can do

to stop him becoming real

is keep my eyes down

and pick my way through

the overbearing bush.

He waits for me

around every corner.

Lucy: a presence

Suddenly,

I feel a presence.

My body tenses.

I'm being watched.

I search in the half-light

for a movement through the trees.

A silence creeps through the forest

and I grip the branch tighter.

I crouch, better to stay hidden,

and try to slow my breathing.

If he comes closer

I'll have to decide whether to run

or face him,

here,

alone in the bush.

For a second I close my eyes

and see Jake, still asleep,

curled in the cave,

his head on my backpack.

He's dreaming of the wolf

standing at the cave entrance.

I hope his dream comes true.

I can't stay here much longer,

hiding.

Something is out there.

I have to stand and face it

or else I'll never move.

I push the branch into the ground

and raise myself to the forest

and its presence.

Lucy: like a stray wolf

There!

Near the trees.

A movement.

Please don't let him see me.

I can't escape, or attack.

It's an animal.

A dog, or a . . .

Moving slowly near the track,

he stops and smells my scent.

He looks straight at me.

A silhouette in the tall grass.

He's not scared and neither am I.

We take a step towards each other,

inquisitive,

as if pulled by some timeless bond.

In that moment,

my fear falls away

and I'm lost in his eyes.

How long has he been out here,

searching?

We stand facing each other.

The wild dog and me.

Slowly, carefully, I kneel down

to be at his level.

‘Are you Shadow?

Or the wolf?'

The dog moves forward

in response to my voice,

his tongue out,

head down,

eyes never leaving me.

His fur is grizzled grey and black.

I reach my hand out,

beckoning.

‘Come closer.

Let me get a better look.'

The dog bounds sideways

into the bush and is gone.

I fall to my knees

and for a few minutes

I can't possibly move.

I've seen him.

He's out here,

like Jake said he was.

I don't know what to do.

Go back to Jake and the cave

and tell him what I saw?

Or keep going, for help?

I can still picture him

standing there, looking at me,

without making a sound.

Like a ghost.

That's why Jake's dad tells his story,

over and over.

He saw the wolf

and telling his story keeps it real.

Gives him strength.

I stand straight,

every muscle tingling,

sure I can go on, ready for what I must do.

I follow the track away from the cave,

deeper into the woods.

Like the stray wolf,

I'm not alone.

Lucy: Grandma

‘Time only goes one way.'

That's what Grandma

used to say.

Every time I'd sit with her

on the verandah

and tell her about school,

Peter and his annoying ways,

Mum not standing up for herself,

or Dad and his temper,

she'd just sit there and

point her walking stick

at the farmyard gate,

as if wishing it open.

I knew she wasn't talking

about waiting to die.

She was telling me

to hold tight,

to wait,

that it'll all pass.

I'd follow her eyes

to the gate

and I'd whisper,

‘Time only goes one way.'

When she died,

I wanted to put it

on her headstone,

up on the hill.

But no one listened to me,

except Grandma,

and she was gone.

Lucy: fractured sounds bad

The sky is early-morning blue

and you could get lost in it.

I see the vapour trail of a jet miles above

and for once

I don't wish I was escaping on it.

I'm returning along the track

to Jake's farm

to get help.

What will I say?

How much will I say?

Jake's voice echoes,

‘Just tell them I'm all right,

I've hurt my ankle.

Don't say anything is fractured.

That sounds bad.'

I wonder what he's doing now?

I laugh out loud as I picture Jake

sitting at the cave entrance,

his eyes searching the valley below,

looking for the wolf.

I'll tell him as soon as I get back.

The calm I felt when I saw the wolf;

the power he gave me.

Lucy: the plan

As I enter the swamp

I see a boot print

and I know it's his –

the weight,

the markings.

He's looking for me,

carrying a torch

and all that hatred.

The print is heading home

and I can imagine him now

sitting under the tree

ignoring Peter and Mum,

knowing I've got to come back

sooner or later;

waiting for his chance.

I don't care what happens

when I get home.

I mean it.

Dad can hit me again.

He can try.

Only this time I won't run.

I won't put my hands up.

I'll stand straight,

just out of his reach.

Even though my legs

will be shaking

and my insides churning,

I won't move.

I'll keep my eyes fixed on Mum

and see what she does.

I don't care anymore.

What Jake and I got.

That can't be touched;

it can't be broken.

My father can bash me

all he likes,

but I know now,

he can't touch me.

I'm unbreakable.

I'm strong.

Stronger than any fist.

Lucy: not alone

Maybe that's my dad's problem.

That's why he's always angry;

why he hits before he thinks.

Because he doesn't believe.

Because he's got nothing to hold onto,

deep down,

nothing that makes him a man.

What must it be like

to be so alone,

so unloved.

No,

I'm not feeling sorry for him.

I'm not that forgiving.

But I know that

I've got Jake

and the cave

and the wild dog –

the wolf –

whatever it is.

And my dad,

he's got nothing.

Lucy: Jake's dad

Jake's dad!

He's walking along the track

beside the creek,

leading a horse;

his head down,

looking for tracks.

He kneels

and touches the ground

like he's trying to feel for his son.

I'm about to call his name

when he looks up.

His hand goes straight to his heart

as if to stop it leaping out of his chest.

I start running.

I don't want to look worried,

or in a panic,

but I run so I reach him quickly

and when I get there

I see the suspicion on his face.

I've done something bad to his son;

I'm a Harding.

‘He's okay, Mr Jackson,' I say.

‘Just a sprained ankle.

We stayed in a cave last night.

I came to get help.'

He listens to the story

of Jake slipping on the rock

and how instead of walking home on the ankle

and making it worse,

we decided to find shelter

and get help in the morning.

He nods and asks,

‘How are you, Lucy?'

No one has ever asked about me.

I don't know how to answer

or how to trust anyone's questions.

I say,

‘Let's go get Jake.'

Lucy: how happy

Jake's dad doesn't say much

as we head to Sheldon Mountain.

He asks me

if I'd like to ride the horse,

to rest,

but I say,

‘No, I don't want to be a burden.'

He looks at me.

‘Burden?'

Then he seems to lose track

of what he wanted to say.

I'm relieved.

I just want to find Jake

and get this over with.

The sun is high

when we reach the bottom of the mountain.

Mr Jackson ties the horse's reins

to an old gum tree

and loads his pack

with food and water

for the climb.

As we set off over the rocks

I think of Jake,

sitting, waiting,

and how happy he'll be

when he sees his dad.

How happy he'll be.

Peter