The Sky So Heavy

the sky, the axe leaning against the half-demolished outdoor setting.

‘Do you have any food?’ I asked.

‘No, not really.’

‘We’ve got a little bit, I met a guy up the street. A guy I went to school with, he gave me a bit more… I was hoping the army would have come back.’

‘Fin, I didn’t see any sign of them the whole time I was out.’

‘They said they’d come back,’ said Max.

‘I know, but I’m telling you, I didn’t see any trace of them. A couple of SES blokes, that’s it. They didn’t have any food, either.’

‘Take some of our cans,’ I said.

Mick looked at me with a steady gaze. He munched his lips a little. He wanted to say no, I could see it. But he needed the food.

‘Thanks, mate,’ he said quietly.

I put two cans of beans in Zadie’s bag. Mick picked Zadie up with one arm and took her bag with the other. Zadie gripped her pony by its fuzzy pink neck. We watched them walk up the driveway.

Silence found a new space in our house.

Eighteen

We saw the cop walking down the driveway, didn’t hear the car pull up. It was CSI. I was at the door before he had time to knock.

‘Hi there,’ he said in a voice that was more Play School host than cop. He looked like he could do with a shave and his shirt was crumpled. I noticed he wasn’t wearing a name badge. I opened the screen door a little, meaning to come out and talk to him, but instead he pushed past me, striding into the kitchen. He gave Max a little salute.

‘So, how you guys doing?’

‘Okay, did you confirm it was Dad?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Did you confirm it was Dad? Are you bringing him back?’

‘Oh, no. Ah, no movement on that as yet.’

‘But you said it was probably him. And he was on the highway, I mean, that’s not heaps far away – it’d be easy to check and bring him back here.’

CSI straightened his back a bit as if he was trying to make himself bigger. He reminded me of the footy dickheads at school. ‘Like I got nothing better to do! We are pretty busy, buddy.’ He sniggered.

He walked around with his hands on the bulky holster on his hips. He couldn’t seem to keep still. I noticed he didn’t have a gun.

‘Look buddy – what’s your name again?’

‘Fin.’

‘Yeah, Fin, I’ll tell you what we’re doing: we’re going around to every house and collecting all the food people have got. We’re going to redistribute it equally so that everyone will have enough.’

I frowned. ‘We don’t have much left.’

‘That’s why we’re doing it. You’ll get a lot more.’ He started walking toward the pantry.

I cut in front of him. ‘I don’t think we want to do that. We’ll just hang onto what we’ve got.’ The thought of some system – a plan, someone making decisions somewhere – was comforting. But something had changed in me. Maybe it was the way my whole world had closed down, had become simpler. I was sharper somehow. Instincts were kicking in and I was running with them.

‘No choice, buddy.’ He flashed a piece of paper in front of me. I didn’t have time to read it. Then he took his radio and said, ‘Yeah, this is PP2, just picking up from Bellbird Crescent now. Meet you back up top in ten.’ He clipped his radio back onto his belt and made to move past me. I blocked him again, stepping backward in front of the pantry.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Buddy, I’m taking it. I’ll be back with more this arvo.’ He held my gaze for a second and then tried to push past me.

‘You’re lying.’ As I put the words out there my mouth went dry.

‘What?!’ His hand now rested on his baton. ‘I have a warrant to seize any food items you have here.’

‘Show me the warrant.’

‘I already showed you the warrant.’

‘That was a library fine or some shit. You’ve got nothing.’

‘Mate, move.’

‘No.’

He laughed. ‘If you don’t move I’m going to have to arrest you.’

‘Arrest me then.’

He shook his head and took his radio from his belt. He spoke into it.

‘Yeah radio, this is Springwood sixteen. I got resistance, gonna have to bring one in.’

‘You can stop playing pretend with your radio. The battery’s flat.’

He cocked his head to the side and gave me a little smirk. He clipped the radio back onto his belt and took his baton from it. He raised it above his shoulder.

‘Give me the food. I won’t hesitate to use this, buddy.’

‘Go on.’

‘GIVE ME THE FOOD!’

‘No,’ I said quietly.

I could see the white of his knuckles through his skin as he gripped the baton. He drew it back.

‘Put it down.’ It was Max. I didn’t even see him come into the kitchen. He stood behind CSI, two hands gripping the axe.

‘Put the baton down and get out!’ Now it was Max pulling the TV cop stuff.

CSI turned around slowly.

‘Drop the baton.’

‘No need to get upset, buddy—’

‘I’m not your buddy. Drop the baton and get out.’

CSI didn’t move.

‘I’m telling you, dick-face, I haven’t eaten and I’m feeling a bit crazy. I could do anything. I could chop your head off and then Fin and I could, like, barbecue your arms and stuff.’ Max smiled.

CSI lowered the baton a bit, his eyes looked from Max to me to the front door and back again.

‘Just give me the baton,’ I said to CSI, as slowly and calmly as I could.

‘Alright, alright.’ He handed it to me.

‘Now piss off.’

CSI walked to the door, Max was behind him with the axe.

CSI paused. ‘Oh, and it was your dad that we found. He’s in the morgue.’ The door slammed behind him.

I slid down the pantry door and sat on the lino. ‘Barbecue your arms?’ I tried to laugh. Max didn’t say anything. Eventually I stood up and told him to lock all the doors and windows. He didn’t respond.

‘Max, come on. He’s lying. Dad’s not dead.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do. Get up. We need to lock the place up. And thanks. You’re pretty scary with an axe.’

Almost a smile.