snow, like sheet-covered furniture in a big, vacant house. Maybe we’ve been driving an hour, maybe two. It’s a trip that used to take an hour, but at the pace we’re going I feel it’s going to take at least four.
We pass the cheerful sign that welcomes us to the city of Sydney and marks the beginning of the western suburbs. Maybe we will meet a sort of station where there’ll be cans of food and people with clipboards checking off names. I will give them my name and they’ll smile and lead me to where my dad is sitting with a cup of tea and a Milk Arrowroot. That’s not going to happen. I know that’s not going to happen.
When the headlights catch a sign that says ‘State Emergency Service Information Centre’ and points to the middle of the road we all lean forward slightly in our seats, craning to see further ahead. Then a line of orange witches’ hats appears in front of us, I brake, swerving to the left. The car slides on the ice and this time Max screams. I spin the wheel and manage to pull up just before we hit a parked car. Most of the witches’ hats come off second best.
‘Thank you,
Ahead, a demountable building is illuminated by our headlights. It stands in the centre of the freeway, where the grassy median strip once was. There are two cars parked next to the demountable, but no light coming from the building. We get out of the car. Our feet crunch on the snow and the hinges of the car doors squeal through the silence when we close them. Max, Noll and I look at the building but don’t approach it. Lucy flicks her torch on and doesn’t hesitate.
‘Luce, wait.’
I follow her. She shines the torch at the cars. They are both covered with snow and have broken windows. We head for the steps and see that the door is hanging open. Lucy shines the torch into the black. The whole thing feels like a scene from a Cohen brothers movie. There’s a couple of plastic chairs and a two-legged wooden desk. A map of Sydney and the Greater West clings to the wall, pierced crookedly into place with thumbtacks. It is marked and divided by red, hand-drawn lines. Below it, on the ground, is a puddle of snow partially covering what looks like a big burn mark on the lino floor. We look up at the ceiling, and there’s a hole, a makeshift chimney. There is nothing else in the place – the official-looking people must have eaten all the Milk Arrowroots, burnt their clipboards and fled.
Outside, Noll is peering through the broken windows of the parked cars. ‘Someone’s already got to the fuel,’ he says before I can ask.
We head toward our car, but I’m soon aware that Max isn’t beside me. I turn around and can make out his shape in the black, still lingering by the mouth of the demountable.
‘Max, there’s nothing here man, c’mon.’
He doesn’t move, the others both have the torches and keep walking. I turn and head back toward Max, feeling through my pockets for a lighter. When I find one I flick it and the flame makes a fragile, wobbly light between us.
‘You okay?’ I can see the wet on his cheeks glint in the light.
‘I thought it would all be alright, I thought there would be people here and they’d know what we’re supposed to be doing and we’d find Dad—’
‘Maximum, look at me. I’m here. I’m here with you. I’m going to get you through this, okay? We’ve got Noll and Lucy. We’re not alone, you’re not alone.’
He shakes his head and the tears keep coming. He looks so small in his beanie and mittens, snot leaking onto his top lip.
‘Hey, hey. You remember those bad bushfires in Victoria? Black Saturday? I read a story about about a guy and his wife who were stranded in the fire. No way out. They had three little kids with them and they all hid with wet blankets over them in this gap between a brick wall and a water tank. The guy said the fear, the panic, was like a heavy medicine ball that he and his wife passed between them – when one panicked the other one would be calm and rational. They survived by taking it in turns. I can hold the ball for you, Max. I’ve got it. I’ve got you.’
He wipes the snot with his sleeve.
‘Stay cool, Max.’
The corner of his mouth twitches and I can see he’s tempted to make the obvious joke.
‘Let’s go back to the car. We gotta keep going.’
He nods and we trudge through the snow. I can’t help wondering when I’m going to drop the ball, though, and who’s going to catch it for me.
We are all back in the car, about to leave, when Lucy opens her door again.
‘Wait a sec,’ she says over her shoulder and jogs back to the demountable. Moments later she gets back in the car, holding the map. I put the car into drive and we start again, carving our way into the dark.
Pools of white light from the headlights on the snow in front and beside us. Black everywhere else. The lights catch the shadowy shapes of cars abandoned by the side of the road. I get careless with the accelerator and the car slides on the ice.
‘Easy, Fin,’ says Noll. ‘We haven’t come this far to die in a car accident.’ Just as he speaks the headlights fall on the body of a car just ahead of us, it lies upside down like a beetle on its back, charred and twisted. I brake and we slide to a halt.
‘Well, that’s encouraging,’ mutters Lucy.
It becomes harder and harder to tell what is road and what is not. I end up waywardly heading for the edge too many times. Lucy takes over driving for a bit, but she has the same problem. A collective decision is made to stop and sleep in the car and continue driving in the morning.
I don’t know what it is that wakes me but when I open my eyes there is a guy striding toward the car with a brick in his hand. Like he’s going to use it in a way it wasn’t intended for. Like smashing a window.
‘Shit! Shit!’
Lucy wakes just as the house brick collides with my window. It’s obvious the brick-wielding bloke hasn’t eaten properly for a while, the glass cracks, doesn’t break. Lucy’s fast, I’ll give her that, she has started the ignition before I’ve had a chance to find the gun under the seat. She hits the accelerator in the same instant that the brick connects with the window again, more successfully this time. I’m showered with thousands of tiny glass prisms. The ice and snow hardly make for a quick getaway and the guy is quicker than the car. His gloved hand gets a grip on the window edge. Lucy screams and swerves the car, maybe intentionally to try to throw him off. But the tyres hit a mound of snow and we stop. The guy grabs me by the neck and shoulder and hauls himself halfway in the window. Max is screaming now, too. The grip on my throat doesn’t allow for much from me. I am madly gouging at the guy’s face when I see a hand clamp the back of his neck and a fist smash his nose. Noll is leaning through the gap between the front seats, he punches the guy again. My throat is released and I gulp air. Lucy’s scream has become a screech. The guy goes limp and his bloody face falls on my chest.
‘Arrrgh! Arrrgh!’ I’m like a girl with a dead rat. I push his head, his arm and get him out of the window. His body slumps in the snow next to the car.
I’m covered in blood. Lucy has her hands over her mouth and her eyes closed. In the back, Noll sits eyes wide, labouring to catch his breath. His hands are held up, chest height, shaking, right glove dark with blood. Max is crying. My throat aches from the guy’s grip.
‘Are you okay?’ Lucy asks.
‘Yeah,’ I manage.
Noll opens his door, pulls off his gloves and throws them out. Then he leans out and vomits into the snow. Lucy gets out and crouches next to him, giving him a bottle of water. In the back Max is snivelling, furiously wiping at his tears.
‘Maximum. I’m okay.’
He nods.
‘You okay?’
He shakes his head. I smile at him.
‘Yeah, you are. You gonna be sick?’
Another shake of the head.
‘Yeah, you are.’
He opens his door just in time.
