Vulture's Gate (11 page)

‘You need to think about what it means to betray your father. You can spend tonight in here. Tomorrow, I'll fix up another hut,' said Mollie gruffly as he chained the aviary door shut. ‘No more of this two-in-a-bed business. It's time we got serious about our future, son.'

‘I'm not your son!' shouted Callum. ‘I don't want a future with you!'

Above him, the cockatoos squawked and fluttered on their perches. Callum covered his head with his hands, waiting for them to attack. When he looked up, Mollie was gone and the birds were settling down, their sulphur crests flat and their eyes blinking sleepily. He wrapped his arms around himself and sank lower into the mess of bird droppings on the aviary floor as the moon crept up over the valley.

Hours later, Callum lay crumpled in the corner of the aviary, trying to sleep, when he saw a ripple of movement in the shadows across the yard. For a moment he thought it was a wild animal, but when it crossed into a patch of moonlight he realised it was Mr Pinkwhistle. The roboraptor moved swiftly along the edge of the buildings, circling the yard, keeping in the shadows until he reached the aviary.

‘Hey Mr Pinkwhistle,' whispered Callum. For the first time, he was glad to see the roboraptor staring at him with beady red eyes.

Mr Pinkwhistle bobbed his head and then lunged forward, snapping his jaw shut on a mouthful of wire. Callum managed to get his fingers out of the way just in time. Mr Pinkwhistle's teeth tore through the mesh as if it was fairy floss. In less than a minute, he'd gouged a hole in the cage big enough for Callum to climb through. He scurried along the edge of the buildings in the shadows and Callum followed. When they reached the door of Bo's hut, he was relieved to find it was simply bolted. He unlocked the door as quietly as he could and pushed it open.

He was about to whisper Bo's name when a hand slid across his face, clamping his mouth shut. He nodded to signal he understood. Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, they hurried into the orchards. It was only when they were in the dappled moonlight among the trees that Callum realised what Bo had done.

‘Your hair,' he said. ‘What did you do to your hair?'

Bo raised one hand to the bare skin on the nape of her neck. ‘I cut it off and spread it across my pillow. I used your bedding to shape a body under my blankets and then I gave it my hair.' Callum stared at her. She looked much younger without her long dark mane. She had hacked her hair off unevenly and jagged tendrils framed her face. He touched her cheek.

‘Why?' he said.

‘Because Mollie came back to my hut after he locked you in the aviary.'

‘Did he hurt you?'

‘No. He told me what he'd done with you and said we all needed to work out how to live together. We talked for a long time and I asked him all about the cameras and how he watches us.'

‘And he turned them off?'

‘No,' said Bo. ‘But I found out he doesn't record anything, so he has to be watching us to see what's going on. After he locked me in I took Mr Pinkwhistle under the covers with me and watched his sensors. I could tell when Mollie had gone to bed so I knew he wasn't watching me. Then I hacked off my hair and spread it across the pillow. If Mollie does look, he'll think I'm asleep.'

‘But how did Mr Pinkwhistle get out?'

‘Up the stovepipe of the old wood stove. He fitted perfectly.'

‘Mollie will see I've escaped,' said Callum. ‘It won't take him long to figure that out. He knows where the Daisy-May is too. He'll follow us.'

‘Not until dawn.' She took Callum's hand and they ran through the night orchard. Mr Pinkwhistle loped ahead of them, his head swivelling back to check they were keeping up. They avoided the main pathways, weaving their way through the vineyards and orchards, past the dam and the water tanks until they reached the thick stands of bamboo.

They had nearly beaten their way through the dense foliage that rose like a black wall on either side of them when they heard cockatoos screeching. Above them the sky was tinged with dawn light. Bo stopped in her tracks and looked around for somewhere to hide, her eyes wide with terror.

‘We can't outrun them,' she said. ‘And they'll have woken Mollie.'

‘Don't stop,' said Callum, dragging her in his wake, forcing her to keep moving.

Minutes later, the first cockatoo attacked, tearing out a handful of Callum's hair, while the others circled above, signalling to Mollie the location of the runaways. Bo fell back into a stand of bamboo, trying to bend the long green stalks over her body for protection while Mr Pinkwhistle lunged at the air, snapping at the birds.

‘ “Fitcher's Bird”,' muttered Callum, suddenly realising what he had to do. Next time the biggest cockatoo swooped over him, he snatched at its feet and wings, dragging it to the ground. It flapped and shrieked but Callum kept it pinned down.

‘Bo, quick, give me your jacket,' he called.

Bo crawled out of the bamboo. She was shivering as she knelt down in the dirt and stripped off her catskin coat. Callum covered the bird and it immediately stopped struggling. Then he gestured for Bo to help.

‘Hold him down.'

‘I can't,' said Bo, backing away.

‘You have to – just for a minute – while I do something, ' he shouted, above the screeches of the birds. He forced her hands onto the jacket, pinning down the cocky.

The other birds continued to dive-bomb while Callum tore his shirt into strips and swiftly knotted a makeshift rope.

‘Okay, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to tie this cocky to Mr Pinkwhistle,' he said, fastening a loop of cloth to the bird's leg, while still keeping its head covered. ‘You need to program him to run around the top of the valley, in the opposite direction to us. If you can program him to lead the cockies away, to give us time to reach the Daisy-May, then Mr P can bite through the rope and run across the hilltop to meet us. It might buy us just enough time.'

Bo nodded and drew Mr Pinkwhistle onto her lap. She sat with the roboraptor draped across her knees, his chest open, her face a study in fierce concentration as she punched in coordinates and directions.

As soon as Mr Pinkwhistle was on his feet, Callum uncovered the tethered cockatoo. Immediately, the rest of the flock gave up on the children. They followed the struggling leader north, squawking and shrieking above the roboraptor and their captive leader.

Callum only glanced over his shoulder once as they headed into the bamboo. Far away, flapping frantically above the hillside path, the flock of cockatoos circled and dived at Mr Pinkwhistle as he led them further and further away from the two children.

They had been running for hours by the time they breasted the rise and found the Daisy-May.

‘We probably still don't have enough fuel to reach Vulture's Gate,' said Bo. ‘I only half-filled her tanks.'

‘Don't worry,' said Callum. ‘Early yesterday morning, while you and Mollie were still asleep, I topped them up. I've even filled the reserves and jammed one of the panniers full of pineapples. I figure they should work as well as cactus.'

Bo looked at him in surprise and then grinned. ‘Even if you're a boy, you're as cunning as Fitcher's Bird!'

They rode down through the thick scrub and turned along a worn trail at the base of the hillside. Suddenly, Bo braked and turned her eyes to the hills. Callum watched too, waiting. They both laughed with relief as Mr Pinkwhistle came charging out of the scrub. Bo swept him into her arms and set him on the tank before her.

Towards midday, they pulled off the road and drove down a dirt track to find a sheltered place to rest. Bo opened the saddlebag to search for their sleeping kit.

‘Did you put these in here?' she asked. Callum stood beside her and stared into the pannier. Neatly stacked inside were all Bo's weapons, her string carrier of hunting tools, and a brown paper bag. Tied on with coarse twine was a note in wobbly handwriting.

Sometimes old men dream foolish dreams. Travel safe – Mollison
Green.

‘He knew we were going to run away,' said Bo, as she opened the paper bag and looked in at the ripening tomatoes and bananas.

‘He was crazy,' said Callum.

‘But he was sad and lonely too,' said Bo. ‘All those long nights listening to the sound of your own breathing, with no other living soul to care if you never woke up again.'

‘Don't feel too sorry for him,' said Callum. ‘He would have had you bringing up babies like he does tomatoes. They'd be springing out of your mouth before you knew what hit you.'

Bo laughed. ‘Babies don't come out of people's mouths!'

‘So where do you think they come from – when they don't come from clinics? How do they get from the inside out?'

Bo blushed. ‘I haven't spent much time thinking about it. I suppose they come out the same way baby animals do – between the legs.'

They both fell quiet, trapped in the awkwardness of the moment. ‘Well, no wonder girls are extinct,' said Callum.

17

GATE WAY TO THE UNDERWORLD

Callum had to fight down his impatience as the city of
Vulture's Gate loomed on the horizon.
They'd been travelling for days on end, making few stops, and both their food and fuel supplies were low. Now that he knew they were on the home stretch, he wanted to be there instantly. He couldn't wait to be inside the old apartment in the heart of the city and finally in the arms of his fathers. He played it over and over again in his mind, that moment when he would step over the threshold and they would embrace him. Yet he knew Bo was right when she insisted they set up camp in the mountains south of the city.

‘I think it would be better to arrive in daylight. We can leave at first light and be there by early morning. If this place is as awful as Mollie Green said, we want to be able to see our way around.'

‘It's not that bad. Mollie was trying to scare you. Once we reach my dads, everything will be fine,' said Callum. He pointed at the tiny glow of distant lights. ‘That bright bit, that's the Colony on South Head. Most Colony people lived there but we lived in this really cool apartment building outside the wall. It has a lot of security around it, so once we get inside we'll be safe. It's only the streets that are dangerous.'

‘And are there vultures?' asked Bo anxiously.

‘I don't think so. I don't even know what a vulture really looks like.'

Bo knelt down beside him and drew a small sketch in the dirt. ‘Poppy read me stories about vultures. He said a goddess with a vulture's head guarded the gateway to the underworld.'

Callum looked at the symbol of the vulture and kicked dust across it. ‘You know too many stories,' he said, trying to make his voice sound cheerful.

Mr Pinkwhistle brought them a possum and Bo threw the carcass onto their small fire. The air filled with the smell of scorched fur. When it was cooked, she cut away the charred skin and sliced thick pieces of meat for Callum and herself.

‘I miss Mollie's food,' said Bo.

‘I don't,' said Callum, chewing grimly on his slice of possum meat. ‘You wait. My dads will make sure we have plenty to eat. Maybe they'll build another refuge somewhere safer and we'll go live there. Or maybe we'll live in the apartment.'

‘What if they don't want me?'

‘I've told you. They'll be fine. They might be a bit freaked out by you being a girl. But they'll get used to it. As long as you don't turn into a woman, it will all be okay.'

‘But I will turn into a woman, Callum.' She opened her shirt and looked down at her bare chest. ‘Sometimes my nipples tingle and they've changed shape. Only a little bit. They're not smooth and flat any more. They have little pointy tips, see?'

Callum looked away. ‘Close your shirt,' he snapped.

‘What's the matter?'

‘There's nothing the matter with me. I'm normal.'

Bo snorted. She crawled around the campfire and knelt in front of him. ‘Look at you. You're scruffy and dirty and covered in scars. How can you tell me what to do when you don't even know how to tie your own shirt?'

Callum let her straighten the stays of the old cat-leather shirt she had given him. She ran her fingers through his hair, combing it away from his face. It had grown so long that it brushed against his shoulders.

‘Bo,' he said, taking her face in his hands and drawing it close. ‘Whatever happens tomorrow, you know that you're my best friend. My best friend in the world.' He put his face next to hers and swept his eyelashes against her cheek in a butterfly kiss.

As the embers of the fire grew low, Bo drew him down to lie beside her. He curled against the warm curve of her body, savouring the comfort of her arms. Tomorrow, everything would be different. He tried not to think about what that would mean.

As they approached the city, Callum could feel tension mounting in Bo's body. She leant close to the bike and focused on the road to avoid driving into one of the gaping craters that pockmarked the highway. Burnt-out vehicles littered the verge. Drifts of burning rubble glowed orange through a smouldering haze. A shadowy figure emerged from the smoke and then disappeared, as if it were an apparition.

‘Has there been a war?' asked Bo.

‘I don't know. There have always been crazy outsiders attacking the Colony. But I don't remember any of this.'

No wonder his fathers had wanted to take him away. He couldn't recall ever seeing this devastation when they'd lived in Vulture's Gate but was that because his fathers always kept him cocooned inside their apartment? He had been so small when they left the city that all his memories were surrounded by a soft infant glow.

They passed hundreds of abandoned buildings. Some were overgrown with vines, others had trees growing out through cavernous black windows. A murder of crows flew cawing through the broken roof of a bombed house. Bo slowed the Daisy-May as the highway disappeared beneath a swampy mass of refuse and sludge. They travelled for kilometres without seeing anyone until a ragged man, almost naked except for a cloth around his waist, stumbled across the road and vanished into a crater. Callum shifted uncomfortably in his seat and Bo reached back, squeezing his knee to make him stop wriggling.