Sing Fox to Me (24 page)

Samson heard his mum in his head again, ‘Careful, Sammy', and, ‘Your heart isn't strong enough', and, ‘Let me do it, darling.'

He looked through the flames to Mattie, and even though she couldn't possibly know what he was about to do, she nodded as if she did.

He knew what to do. It had been there all along. Written down like a prophecy he hadn't understood. He looked down, and his signing hands were every colour, like a rainbow.

‘I can push them,' yelled Samson.

‘What?' called Murray without stopping.

‘I'll push them down.' His voice faded into the crackling of the fire and the beat of Murray's chop, chop, chopping axe. ‘I can push them,' Samson said again. This time he said it quiet and slow, because this time it was just for him. His breathing was deep and sore inside his chest.

Not yet
, he told the hole in his heart.
Not yet
.

He climbed the ladder to the narrow platform between the water tanks. ‘No, Samson!' The chopping sounds stopped, but Samson didn't. He didn't even look at Murray. Not now. He edged closer to the space between the tanks, but his shoulders didn't fit and so he had to edge in sideways.

‘Samson, get down,' shouted Murray, but Samson was already between the tanks.

He put both his hands against one. The iron felt cold and damp. He could see Murray through the gap between the tanks. ‘Ready?'

Murray shook his head. ‘Get down!'

‘You chop, and I'll push,' shouted Samson. The tanks were cold enough to burn the skin on his hands.

Murray shook his head again but Samson knew he would agree. They didn't have a choice. It had already started.

‘I'm okay,' said Samson. ‘I'm ready.'

This time Murray nodded, then he lifted his axe again.

Samson closed his eyes, reached out his arms and pushed. His muscles tightened and pressed up against his skin, forcing his insides to the absolute limits of his outer body. His eyes throbbed from keeping them shut tight, and his knees locked. Samson pushed and pushed and pushed, until he wasn't Samson Fox, but the Other Samson.

Chop
.

‘Good on you, mate. Keep going.'

Chop
.

The tank moved.

Chop
.

Samson imagined pushing his body out through his hands, moving like the Rainbow Snake, changing everything around him to something better and stronger.

Chop
.

The tension in his arms went away. Samson stumbled forward and opened his eyes. Murray leapt back, and Mattie shouted out. A crash, and the water was a wave. It covered the lawn and the fence, and swallowed the bottom of the fire whole.

Samson's hands were shaking and red.

‘One more,' yelled Murray. His clothes were soaked, but he was already on the other side with his axe raised.

Samson pressed his hands to the second tank. This time, it didn't burn. This tank knew who was boss. The Rainbow Snake had given him a gift, and he hadn't wasted it. He closed his eyes again.
Chop, chop. Chop
. He pushed until his hands felt empty. A splash, but this time Samson fell with the tank and the water and the city. He was the Other Samson, and there was no time to hope he would survive the fall.

River and Queenie were waiting for Clancy in the flames. His daughter was still young and wearing her nightie, although it was mottled grey from sleeping rough.
River
, his gut cried,
River, River, River Fox
. The fire around her moved like hair in water, rippling upwards in long red-gold tresses and spitting fiery dust into the early dawn air. Each speck rose and twirled recklessly around the crackling fire.

The kindling beneath River's feet tumbled into burning embers and vanished into a thick black dust. She took Queenie by the neck and turned away, as though they were going to walk back into the flames.

‘River?'

His daughter couldn't hear him. That must be it. She wouldn't ignore him, not after trying to find him for so long. Not after leaving him the cairns to say sorry.

Clancy followed her, running. His leg pulled behind him, but he ran. Her wavering white body started to fade. He didn't stop when the fire burned his skin. The heat turned to mist, and it was everywhere.

He heard George's voice from inside the flames.

‘George?'

Clancy reached into the fire. He couldn't see River or George or Queenie, but he knew they were all together and finally leaving him. His daughter was finally with her father, her real father, and George was with their missing child. There was nothing left for Clancy. Even his dog had gone with them.

When he looked down, he couldn't see his own skin. The mist turned to fire, and the fire turned towards him and his skin, and he felt himself melting and burning, and he screamed and screamed, and as he screamed, Clancy heard himself and knew that he was dying because the wail of death was inside his mouth. He thought of his daughter. The wail had been inside her mouth too.

The kookaburras stopped laughing.

Samson Fox lay like a beached whale in the ebbing tide of the fallen water tanks. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open in a silent plea. Everything around him froze. The trees froze, and the wind. The fire stopped devouring and crackling to see if the boy had survived the fall. Even the stars seemed to stop glimmering, so they could look down to earth and watch Samson Fox, as they had watched the Other Samson thousands of years before.
Can you see?
asked the stars.
Yes
, whispered the flames around the blackened fence posts.

Is he still breathing?

Hush.

Everything waited to see which way Samson Fox would decide to go.

Hush.

Samson's mind chose to go backwards and lay him down on the floor of the cave with Mattie Kelly. Her dark hair smelt of flowers and sunlight.

‘Samson?' His mum's hands brushed lightly over his forehead, and Samson Fox wondered if the Other Samson
had dreamt of Delilah right before his death. Maybe his hero hadn't fought back. Maybe the Other Samson had let the hole in his heart open wide and swallow him.

Maybe Samson Fox wasn't like the Other Samson after all.

‘
Samson?
'

His shoulders lifted away from the ground, and he heard a voice calling to him. ‘Samson.' The cave shuddered and crumbled in around him. ‘Samson.' He opened his eyes. ‘Samson!'

Murray grabbed Samson by the wrist and dragged him up. Samson coughed, and Murray slapped him on the back. They were both sodden.

‘Ripper fall,' said Murray. ‘You're one lucky kid.'

Samson nodded. Mattie threw her arms around his neck, then she pulled away and punched him hard in the shoulder.
You scared me
, she signed, and the sign for
scared
was like a beating cage over the heart.

Samson shrugged.
I'm lucky
.

Mattie smiled just as the bush sighed in around him. It may have been happy that the boy was still alive, or it may have just wanted to unfreeze the flames and sky and trees. Either way, it all started back up again. Crackling, shaking, chiming, shrieking.

‘Come on, mate,' said Murray, and he let go of Samson's hand. ‘It's not over yet.'

Samson nodded.

Someone screamed from behind the house.

‘Clancy?' Murray dropped the axe and ran.

Mattie grabbed Samson's hand and helped him to his feet.
Hurry, hurry
, and the sign for
hurry
was like an axe chopping wood.

Clancy, thought Samson. His granddad was in trouble.

Together, they ran around the side of the house. It was grey and smoky, and the flames were springing higher and darker. Samson stared into the orange dancing flames. Black stripes. He squinted through the smoke. Something edged forward.

He saw two heads and two bodies. One belonged to Jonah, and the other looked like an orange dog slung over his back. ‘Queenie?' he yelled, but it wasn't Queenie. It had arms and was dragging something through the flames with human hands.

Then Samson saw what it was dragging. His granddad. Clancy was burning like a picket in the fence.

The creature dropped him and shrugged itself neatly under the black-striped skin. Even from where he was standing, Samson could see that the skin was wet and dripping. The creature stood high like a kangaroo on long hind legs, turned, cocked its head and stared straight at Samson.

In that one quiet moment, Samson wished he could abandon all fourteen of their years together, like a failed game on an arcade machine, and go back to when they were curled around each other in their mum's belly. Samson knew he would breathe air into his brother's mouth rather than take it all for himself.

The creature bolted, running back into the fire and through the flames to the bush beyond the fence.

Clancy screamed again, and his voice sounded wet.

‘He's burning,' shouted Mattie. ‘He's burning.'

‘Out of the way,' said Murray, and Mattie and Samson stood back. Murray covered Clancy in the still-damp green blanket from around his shoulders, lay on top of him and rolled him across the lawn. The tanks had soaked the lawn, but Samson's granddad screamed as though the grass was made from knives. The fire glowed in his clothes and then disappeared.

‘Mattie,' said Murray, turning to face her so she could read his lips. ‘Get a bucket of water.'

She nodded, let go of Samson's hand and ran around the house to where he'd left the hose.

‘I can help,' said Samson.

‘Quiet, mate,' said Murray, as he turned the body over. Clancy's eyes were closed, and his face looked like charcoal beneath the last embers of a campfire.

‘That was Jonah.'

‘Samson, please,' said Murray.

‘We'll lose him.'

Lost, missing, run away … forgotten. Each word made a sound inside Samson, and each sound was too loud and made him feel as if he might crack right down the centre if he listened.

‘Come on, Clancy,' said Murray quietly as he moved his hands, not seeming to know where to place them on the burnt body. ‘Come on, mate.' It started to rain again. Murray lifted his face to the sky and opened his mouth. He laughed as if a lifetime of burning had been put out. ‘Feel that, Clance,' he said. ‘Feel that.'

Samson heard sirens. The fire trucks would arrive soon, and everyone would be safe. The rain and the firemen would put out the flames. Murray and Mattie would take care of Clancy, then they would take him to the hospital where the doctors and nurses would make him better. But Jonah would still be lost.

Samson jumped through the smouldering flames and followed after his brother.

‘Clancy?' said a voice.

It was dark inside the ute, but Clancy had been sure he was alone. He glanced around. No one. Must be hearing things.

There were no streetlights. The road changed from gravel to dirt, which meant he was almost home. Around the base of his mountain the bush thinned, and he could see the sky. Gently, he turned the ute onto the mountain road. The headlights darted through the darkness. Trees moved past his car one by one. They looked like bars.

Something scurried onto the road. Clancy pushed his foot down on the brakes. The ute groaned, and the startled fox gazed up into the headlights. They stared at each other for a second. Then the fox darted into the bush on the other side of the road like a streak of fire. Another flash and then another, and two smaller foxes followed.

Neither cub looked at the car, and in a few seconds the entire family was gone.

It started to rain. ‘Clancy? Clancy?' said the voice again, but this time Clancy decided not to go back. He left the ute running, opened the driver's side door, stepped down easily from the cabin and followed the fox and her cubs into the darkness.

Samson and his brother ran through trees and over sticks. Around caves and rocks. Over hard ground covered in thin green, and earth where the grass was softer and threatened to swallow them both. Jonah was red dust, and Samson was a streak of rainbow fire. They got closer to the creek, and Jonah and the tiger were always just ahead. Samson followed all the way to the water, to where the ground ended, and then he stopped.

Across the water he could see the pebble creek bed where he and Mattie had spent the day, weeks ago, before everything started to split apart. The creek was full from the rain, and chunks of the mountain floated in the fast-moving water like ice cubes in a drink. The dirt beneath his feet felt soft and unsteady. He looked over the edge. Had his brother jumped? Was he a piece of the mountain debris?

Dawn gently tipped into day, and Samson watched as white insects danced over the water, catching the light in their wings. He stepped back from the edge. Beneath his feet were holes where the soil had fallen away to expose the roots from huge old trees on either side of the water. Probably the rain was to blame for that too.

Something moved under him inside one of the holes. A flash of black. There was a scrabbling sound, and Samson saw it move to another hole, nearer to the creek. He walked towards it. Inside the roots, under the leaves and caving soil, tangled up in beetle husks and inky darkness, were two white hands gleaming beneath a tiger skin.

‘Jonah?' Samson asked.

The tiger lifted its head. A boy's mouth, a tiger's nose. Boy ears, but tiger eyes. His brother wasn't quite a tiger, not yet, but Samson wasn't sure if Jonah was still a boy either. The creature blinked and slunk back into the gloom.

Samson made the sign for
brother
, and the sign for
brother
was two fists pointed inwards, rubbing together as though the hands were nervous.

The creature growled. His brother was gone, and wanted to be gone. Samson could reach down into the hollows beneath the tree and drag Jonah out. He could take him, hissing, biting, screaming, all the way back to the house on the mountain. Samson was big enough, and strong too. He could even make his brother live inside and eat off plates. He could dress him in clothes and force him to live as a boy, but Jonah would only break free eventually.