The Ellie Chronicles (44 page)

So I climbed too. But I was surprised at how difficult it was. Wet and slippery, green with slime and moss, and I guess a bit of pigeon poo too. It didn’t compare to the cliff on Tailor’s Stitch but I struggled to get a grip. I was just above the old man’s rock knee when the guy with the knife lunged at me. He grabbed my ankle with a grip that clamped me straight to the spot. I kicked out and his grip slipped a little, so that he had my foot rather than my ankle. I kicked again and my wet shoe came off, taking his hand with it. I climbed then, climbed like a professional fountain climber, motivated by terror, and reached the chest in about two seconds flat. I probably set a record for statue climbing.

The guy wasn’t far behind me though. Gavin manoeuvred himself around to the back where I couldn’t see him but that was OK as I thought he was fairly safe there. I went higher, up to the neck and then onto the beard, and sat looking down at the guy. I thought I was in a good position. If he came up there I could kick out and knock the knife from his hand, if not dislodge him as well. I glanced at the pocked and lined face of the statue. His blind eyes stared out at the park, at the sky, at nothing. Yet I felt there was wisdom in those eyes. Maybe I could trust my life to him. I peered around the back and could just see Gavin’s hand and a part of his arm. I looked down again and saw the man. He was going after Gavin, seemed like, edging around the front of the statue. He was like a blot on the huge old figure, like a moving cancer. I wondered how God could create people like Robyn and Fi and Lee and Homer, who were good people, always trying to do their best, and also create people like this, who wanted only to destroy. And he was dangerously close to doing that. I don’t think Gavin realised how close he was, because as I glanced down again Gavin came into view, doing a traverse around the back of the statue until he was directly underneath me.

He looked up and saw me, and I waved to him to come up, and at the same time started going down to help him. I guess I distracted him for that moment and suddenly the man’s hand came around the side of the fountain and grabbed Gavin’s ankle in the same vice grip that I’d felt only a minute or two before. Gavin looked like he’d got 240 volts up his bum. He arched his back and nearly lost his grip. For a moment he did a different kind of dance to the earlier one through the park; this time he waved his arms and kicked out with his free leg and waggled his head frantically, trying to keep his balance. The guy started dragging at him. I couldn’t even see the man, could only see his hand and most of his arm, but I could see the pressure mount as Gavin got drawn away. He wrapped both hands around a knobbly bit of the statue, a kind of tree stump that the giant was leaning against, and he hung on for dear life, literally.

By then I was nearly at his level, descending fast and furious. That practice on the cliff had definitely helped, although I almost slipped and crashed down at one point. Still, on the scale of things that had happened to me, I thought that rated pretty low. I was on a route that took me out of sight of Gavin, pretty much, because I wanted to get around the other side. But he grunted, ‘Help me, Ellie,’ in one of the clearest statements I’d ever heard him make. It was a grunt, but one that would have gladdened the heart of any Speech and Drama teacher. Then I heard him scream.

Funny, I thought I’d been going fast before that, but I’d been shuffling along at the pace of a ute with thirty bales of hay. I know that because when I accelerated I could feel the wind through my hair. Almost. I got around the side of that fountain and launched myself onto the guy with a burning ambition: ‘Kill him.’

I think from my limited knowledge that when you fight someone who wants to kill you, you’re at a bit of a disadvantage. His motivation is stronger than yours. He wants to save himself from being killed, plus he wants to kill you. You only want to save yourself. But that’s not enough. He’s got double the drive that you have. So you have to want to kill him too. Otherwise your energy won’t be as good. It’s horrible but it’s true. So I developed in that instant, from nowhere except my war experience, a total focus on ending his life right there in the cold waters of the fountain.

He had stabbed Gavin in the leg, to make him let go of the knobbly bit he was hanging on to, and so the first thing I saw was blood down the man’s arm and on the knife and dripping into the water. At the same time he had heard me coming so he was expecting me, and he let go of Gavin and turned to take care of me. At least I’d taken the heat off Gavin for a moment. Now all I had to do was to kill this person. Our pleasant Saturday morning stroll through the park, towards a meeting that should have been wonderful, had turned into this: me intent on an act of homicide, having no greater purpose in life than to kill another human being.

I threw myself on him with such force that I knocked him off the waist of the statue. That was good. He didn’t belong there anyway. Neither did I maybe, but he definitely didn’t. We rolled down into the water. I no longer felt the cold. Weird. It had no temperature at all. Perhaps he had already stabbed me and killed me and I just didn’t know it yet. But if I were dead, my eyes were still working. I see therefore I am. I saw his arm lifting to bring the knife down into me. We had this much in common: we both wanted to be locked together, him so he could kill me, me so I could kill him. I decided attack was the best method of defence and launched myself up at his arm, as fast and hard as I could, but not as fast or hard as I would have liked, seeing he was trying to cling to me. I knocked his hand at the base, next to the wrist. He kept his grip on the knife. I really wanted him to lose that knife. But he was thrown off balance. He swung around sideways and had to change his position quickly to get his balance back. I drove in hard at him and he went down. The trouble was that I went down with him. We were well and truly in the water now. I still didn’t feel any heat or coldness but I had a problem with the weight of the water. It slowed me down all the time.

I could see the knife and I had another dive at it but he twisted away and then stabbed up at me, a short sudden attack out of nothing and nowhere. It was clever of him because I had thought he was too off balance. I recoiled but he got me all right, to the left of my belly button. I saw a bit of blood appear, not much, and no pain, just a thudding sensation, like I’d been punched there, and not even very hard. But it was shocking, really shocking. I gasped for breath, then realised I had to focus on what I was doing, killing him. I couldn’t allow other thoughts or feelings. I kicked at the knife, knowing I wouldn’t connect but just to give him something to think about, and at the same time with my right hand punched in at his face. I didn’t connect with either my foot or my hand but already I’d followed that up by diving in on top of him. Now I had some advantage. He was quite light and I’m heavy enough and he was under water. Water that had my blood trailing through it.

I might have knocked his head on the bottom of the pool. I wasn’t sure about that. Not very hard anyway. Not as hard as I would have liked.

The knife arm was on its way around again, strong and vicious. I leant sideways to push it away and this time tried to bang his head on the bottom. It didn’t work. I felt like the knife had made contact again, but I didn’t know exactly where and I didn’t know how far it had penetrated. I decided to strangle him and drown him at the same time. I got my hands around his throat and leant forward, pushing down on him to make sure he couldn’t get up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his arm lifting. I realised this wasn’t going to work, that he would be able to stab me many times before I could drive the life out of his body.

Until the knife went flying. Its silver shape spun through the air like a metal boomerang. A boomerang that wouldn’t be . . . yeah, well, the ‘delete cliché’ button won’t let me finish that sentence. But Gavin had arrived. The pocket commando, splattered with his own blood, had smashed the guy’s hand with something, I didn’t know what, couldn’t see, and now I was free to concentrate on killing him. God these words, they flow so easily out of my brain but I shut off, fiercely and totally, the awareness of what they mean, otherwise I could never write them. I used my weight on his body and my arms around his neck to stop him breathing ever again. He started to kick and convulse. The force of him was frightening and I didn’t know if I’d be able to hold him down, although Gavin piled in on top of me then and the extra weight did help.

The man suddenly went limp and I almost relaxed but something told me it was a trick. He still felt too tense. I made my grip even stronger, which was easier now that he had stopped fighting. God it was awful. I feel sick as I remember his throat, his neck. There was bone in it, but mostly it felt like muscle, although I don’t think that can be right. And I’m never going to ask a science teacher. He had quite a scrawny neck and the first part was just all fleshy, or rather like the wattles under a turkey neck. Then there was the part that felt like muscle and then the bone was way back there somewhere. That was the part I was trying to reach. I pressed even tighter, wanting to have nothing but bone in my hands. And yeah Homer, go ahead and laugh at that but I’m not changing it.

I was right about the bluffing because suddenly he came back to life again and now he was desperate. He went crazy on me, like a fighting fish. Or a crocodile. Don’t know, haven’t caught one of those lately. He even got his head out of the water for a moment, but I’m sure he didn’t get any air as my grip was too strong. His face was horrible, grey, and his eyes were staring at me and for the first time they were wide open but he didn’t see me or anything else.

I got him under again and this time he went limp for real. I could feel the difference right away. I still didn’t let go. I figured if I did, his reflexes would take over and breathe for him. He’d come back to life. I didn’t want that. Then the cop grabbed me from behind and pulled me away.

SOMEONE HAD SEEN us at last and called the police. The cop had to work hard to get my hands off the guy’s throat though. I wanted to let go, in one part of my mind anyway, but I guess another part was pretty committed to killing him. The cop kept yelling, ‘Relax! Relax your hands!’ at me but it’s a paradox to yell ‘Relax’ at someone. It wasn’t till Gavin shook me and patted my hands that I finally disconnected. By then they’d half dragged me and the man out of the pool. I found myself stretched across the little wall around it. The stone was digging into my back. They dragged the guy a bit further, till he was on the footpath, on his back, and then they went to work on him. Boy did they work. They were efficient too. They’d obviously done it before. Like, a thousand times. One cop, the guy, was at his mouth pumping away into that through a little black plastic thing. The other, the woman, went for the ribs. I crawled further out of the pool, so I could get away from the uncomfortable wall. It had taken me that long to notice how uncomfortable it was. My senses were starting to work and I could hear two separate lots of sirens, coming from different directions. I half sat, half lay on the ground watching the cops trying to undo what I had done. It was strange, they were putting so much effort into it, and just a minute earlier I had been putting so much effort into killing him.

The guy suddenly convulsed and twisted to one side, away from me, thank God, and started vomiting. I could hear the kind of retching you get outside a Wirrawee B&S as early as nine p.m.. By eleven o’clock you can hear it inside.

The cop doing the heart massage climbed off the guy, wiping her hands on her trousers and looking fairly disgusted. I decided I wouldn’t become a police officer. The guy twisted over further onto his hands and knees, spewing out water and other stuff. In the distance I saw an ambulance officer, then another one, running towards us. I didn’t know why they hadn’t driven right up to the fountain. The police had, well nearly.

Then the cold hit me. Like a blizzard inside and out. I actually gave a half-scream with the impact of it. I was incurably cold. I would never get warm, could never get warm. I had iced up inside. And no-one cared. This was the worst cold of all. The cops were holding the guy on the ground, trying to get him into a better position. The ambulance officers were heading straight for him. I didn’t exist. The guy who wanted to end my existence was the star of the show. Everything was for him.

Then Gavin, wet and slimy and dripping, wrapped himself around me and folded himself into me and we sat together and rocked and hugged and somehow warmed each other. Two colds make a warm sometimes. It’s that old body heat. Works every time. I felt very tired and could have fallen asleep on the spot. An ambo finally came over to us. I hadn’t seen her arrive. She was a blonde girl with so many curls I didn’t know how her cap stayed on her head. She asked us how we were and if we had any injuries. Well, she probably regretted asking that question.

Suddenly she called to her partner for back-up and a second later there was a stationwagon right at the fountain, with ambulance markings all over it and two more ambos who I hadn’t seen before and a couple of stretchers on wheels and Gavin and I were covered by blankets. He was already in the back of an ambulance and I was being wheeled to it. I hadn’t seen that ambulance either. I was confused that they had all got there in one second but I think I was getting a bit confused about everything. It’s possible that I wasn’t entirely conscious for a while there.

The blankets started to work and I felt that I could let go of the last of my coldness. I did so, gradually, and lay back and opened my eyes. The sky was grey but becoming blue in the distance. A grey-white cloud was just above us and if I craned my head I could see a bank of clouds behind me. I didn’t know which way the weather was heading. Sometimes you do need a weatherman. I asked the blonde curly-haired ambo where the wind was from but she just smiled at me and said, ‘Now why would you want to know that?’

‘Just a country girl I guess,’ I said.

Well I don’t think there is much wind at the moment,’ she said, and they started putting my stretcher up into the back of the ambulance.

‘Are you going to use the siren?’

‘Everyone always wants to know that,’ she said. What do you think, Col, will we need the siren for these two?’

‘Might give it a burl if we run into a bit of traffic,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to be late for smoko, do we?’

‘Gavin’s deaf,’ I said, and closed my eyes.

‘Oh is he?’ I heard the blonde girl say. ‘Col, the little boy’s deaf

‘Uh, that would explain it then,’ Col said. I didn’t know what it explained but I guess they’d tried to have a conversation with Gavin.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘We think you’re both going to be fine.’ But I had the feeling they said that to everyone. Like what else are they going to say: ‘We expect you to be dead by the next intersection’?

The ambulance began to move and I opened my eyes again. She was sitting between Gavin and me so I figured Col was driving. She gave me another of her extremely nice smiles. ‘You’ve both got penetrating injuries but they don’t look too bad. And you’re both in shock.’

‘Is that all?’ I yawned. I couldn’t get used to this idea that when you were in the middle of a terrible fight the police arrived and fixed it up for you. And when you got injured, ambulances came and they wrapped you in blankets and took you to hospital. Where were they when the war was on?

The blonde girl said, ‘There might be an issue with that terrible water in the fountain getting into your wounds. I’m guessing the doctor’ll have a look at that. It’s not the healthiest place to take a bath when you’ve been stabbed!’

‘No.’

I reached for Gavin’s hand but couldn’t find it.

What are you looking for?’ the girl asked. Well, she wasn’t really a girl of course.

‘Gavin’s hand,’ I said.

She connected us up. He immediately gave my hand a big squeeze which made my eyes water (a) because we were friends (b) because he was still alive and (c) because it made me think the ambo girl hadn’t been lying to me and he probably was going to be all right.

I didn’t think I could cope with any more deaths of anyone even remotely close to me. These days I was perfectly capable of sobbing over the death of a heifer or someone’s pet guinea-pig, or a dead rabbit on the road.

OK, I’m lying about the rabbit.

At the hospital we weren’t given nearly as much attention or treated like royalty the way the ambos had looked after us. A doctor checked us and sent us both to X-ray but she said our wounds weren’t life-threatening. She did give us a blast of antibiotics in a big needle – well, she got a nurse to give us a blast of antibiotics in a big needle – and then we waited in a corridor for ages for the X-rays.

When we came out a cop was there, in uniform. He said he’d been sent to look after us. It didn’t occur to me till we were back in the main Emergency section that he might have been sent to stop us escaping, until the nurse who was washing grazes on my arm with disinfectant said, What have you two been up to?’

She asked in that quiet voice, the one that means, ‘Just between you and me.’

Of course I had been busting to ask Gavin what the hell had been going on. I’d been wanting to ask him from the moment the whole thing started, but I’d had no hope. And even now it was impossible. In the corridor we’d been twenty metres apart and now he was on the opposite side of the room. What had we been up to? Just trying to save our lives from a complete maniac who wanted to kill us. Was that so bad? But it wasn’t a random attack. The guy knew Gavin and wanted to take him out. He must have had some reason.

So all I could say was the old favourite: ‘I don’t know.’

Then she asked: ‘Are you in a gang?’

‘What?’

I nearly choked on the word. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or call for a psychiatrist. For her. That’s when I realised the cop might be there to stop us tying our sheets together, end to end, and climbing out the window. Good grief! I didn’t expect medals and the keys to the city. That was one of my dad’s favourite sayings: ‘I’m not asking for a medal and the keys to the city but it would be nice to get a little cooperation once in a while.’

I wasn’t asking for a parade but it would have been nice for someone to say, ‘Hey girl, you saved a couple of lives today, even if one of them was your own.’

‘No, I’m not in a gang,’ I said.

Nothing much else happened for at least two hours. The cop made himself right at home and was soon getting coffees for himself and the nurses. I was ‘nil by mouth’ so no food or drink for me. I dozed quite a bit, then they came and took the ‘nil by mouth’ sign away and ten minutes later I got sandwiches and cordial. I suddenly realised how hungry I was and gobbled the whole lot, even if the sandwiches were mostly white bread with occasional traces of chicken and wisps of lettuce. And the cordial tasted like they’d held a glass of water in front of the cordial bottle for five seconds and then taken it away again. I like my cordial strong.

A different doctor arrived and started stitching me up. He was a chatty guy who looked like he came from India or Pakistan and who spoke in this nice musical voice. He said I was fine, the knife had missed my vital organs, I’d been very lucky, I could go home but I had to take antibiotics because they told him I’d been in water that was probably full of dangerous organisms.

He had me roll over and he put a couple of stitches in another wound. I knew something on my back hurt but didn’t realise it was a second stab wound. I hadn’t properly registered that the guy had stabbed me twice – I’d thought the pain was from another graze.

Gavin was a bit more complicated. While I lay there having a snooze no-one told me that he’d been wheeled away for an operation. I went into total panic when I heard a nurse say something about ‘the deaf boy who’s gone to surgery”, surprising myself by how hysterical I got. It’s embarrassing, but they had to hold me down and then the nurse hit me with another needle and ten seconds later, out I went.

I woke up in a room with a painting of gum trees and a billabong, and there was Lee, sitting next to the bed. ‘Yikes, how long have I been here?’ I asked him. Then I remembered about Gavin.

‘It’s about four o’clock, I think,’ he said, putting down a copy of the
Bulletin
that looked like it was years old. ‘And don’t worry, Gavin’s fine. He had some muscle damage and he’ll be sore for a while and he’s gonna need a bit of physio. That’s the full story.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Just along the corridor. He’s in 2210 and this is 2220.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘I don’t know. Probably. They let me have a look at him but he was asleep. He had a general anaesthetic. But if you can persuade the nurses, you should be able to waddle along and say hello.’

‘What the hell happened? Who is the guy? What was it all about?’

Lee looked surprised. ‘I was going to ask you that. I don’t know anything, and no-one’ll tell me anything. When I got here they had a cop guarding you but he got a message about an hour ago to say that you probably weren’t on the ten most wanted, so he packed up and left. That’s how I got this magazine.’

‘I’m very happy for you.’

‘Yeah, except he’s already done the crossword.’

‘How did you know we were here?’

‘You put me down as next-of-kin.’

‘Oh did I? I don’t remember that.’

‘So what did happen? I thought I was sending you off for a nice walk followed by a heart-warming reunion for Gavin. Next thing I know I get a message to say some guy tried to kill you both. Is this to do with Liberation? Or the war?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, trying to work it out. My head was a bit fuzzy, because of the injection I suppose. ‘No, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with that. The guy knew Gavin. He was waiting for him.’

I slipped out of bed, determined to clear this up once and for all. Bugger Gavin having a general anaesthetic and being asleep. He could just wake up and tell me what on earth was going on.

I felt a bit woozy but not too bad. Lee grabbed me as I grabbed for the end of the bed but I was OK again a moment later. ‘Sheez, what was in that needle?’ I said.

Off we set, down the corridor. A nurse was at the desk halfway between my room and Gavin’s. She looked at me suspiciously. ‘Now where do you think you might be off to on this fine Saturday afternoon?’

I grinned at her. ‘I just want to see how my partner in crime’s going.’

‘Oh do you now? Well you can turn around and go right back to bed. You had enough Midazolam for a small elephant, so you can wait a bit longer before you go serenading along the corridors.’

‘I only want to ask him a question,’ I begged.

‘You know I read your book about the war,’ she said.

‘Oh you did?’ The first one had been published but the rest were home in a wardrobe. It hadn’t sold enough to satisfy the publisher, so they wouldn’t take the others. It seemed to me that quite a lot of people knew about the book but not so many had actually read it. Maybe it was the title. I thought
The War from Hell
was quite cute but I guess people who didn’t know Tailor’s Stitch and Hell didn’t get the joke until they were reading the book, and it was a bit late by then.