She frowns.
‘Only two of us need to go,’ I say.
She raises one eyebrow, looking less than impressed. Then she turns around and heads back down the ramp.
‘We’ll be back soon,’ I tell Max.
‘How come you get to do all the cool stuff?’
‘Max, going out there isn’t “cool stuff”. We’ll be back soon.’
Noll and I leave the car park and head along the street in the direction Alan has told us. Turns out a lot of effort goes into not looking suspicious. I have to fight the instinct to constantly look over my shoulder and check if anyone was studying us for signs that we might be illegals. I put my hands in my pockets because that seems like the sort of thing a casual-feeling person might do. (Not that many people would have been feeling casual in the middle of all this, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be sweating profusely even though it’s about one degree.) I’m doing a better job than Noll, though, who is walking way too quickly. I tell him and he just mutters something under his breath. We round a corner and up ahead, at a big intersection a few blocks away, there is a line of people in the street. We join the queue, neither of us really able to stand still.
There are two army trucks, troop carriers. Guys in camo stand on the backs of the trucks and pass boxes down to the people. Two others stand beside the line, pulling the occasional person out and demanding ID. As they get closer to us I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. They stop at a boy a few people in front of us. He’s maybe a year older than Max.
‘ID,’ barks one of the officers. He has that drawn, hungry look to him, eyes a little too wide like he’s looking for someone to take it out on. The kid feels around in his pocket, then turns and bolts. The officers tear off after him. I don’t know if they were planning to ask me and Noll next. I clench my fists in my pockets in an attempt to stop shaking. We edge toward the front of the line to within reaching distance of the boxes. Then it is our turn and the guy on the truck hands me a box. I look up at him and our eyes meet and I freeze. It is the young guy from the border, the one who gave me back the gun. Noll and I glance at each other. Noll has recognised him too. The army guy pauses for only a second, but I notice it. I take the box and lower my eyes. I am ready to bolt. But he says nothing. He gives Noll a carton of water. Noll looks him right in the eye and says ‘Thank you’. We leave quickly.
Neither of us says a word until we are back in the car park. I drop the box to the ground and let my legs give way beneath me, still shaking with adrenalin.
‘That was him, wasn’t it?’ says Noll.
‘Who?’ asks Lucy, opening the box to see what we’ve scored.
‘The guy from the border, the first one, that put us up against the fence.’
‘He was there? He saw you both?’
I nod. ‘He gave me that.’ I point to the box.
‘He didn’t do anything?’
‘No,’ says Noll. ‘He just gave us these.’
‘Did he see you come back here?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Nobody followed us,’ says Noll.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, there’s nothing we can do if they did,’ I say.
‘We can leave.’
‘Nobody saw us. He didn’t rat on us. I trust him. He gave me back the gun that night. I think he’s okay.’
But I am uneasy for the rest of the day.
In the early hours of the morning Lucy and I lie beside each other in the dark, close, but not quite touching. The fire has withered to a mound of glowing embers. On the other side of me, Max snores softly in his sleep.
‘Have you thought about how we might never see our parents again?’ Lucy asks me, her voice so soft, barely more than a breath.
‘A bit.’
‘I used to be so afraid of my parents dying when I was younger.’
‘I don’t think they’re going to die, Lucy. I really don’t.’
‘You can’t know that, Fin.’
‘I know, I just—’
‘You can’t protect everyone. You can’t protect me.’
‘Luce.’
‘Like today, me staying back with Max while you and Noll go off and get supplies. What’s that about?’
‘I want you to be safe.’
‘What makes you think I can’t look after myself? What? Just because I’m a girl I need you to protect me?’
‘No, I… I don’t know.’
‘I saved
‘I know, I just… You saw those guys at the shelter…’
‘You think I’m going to get raped or something?’
‘I just want you to be safe.’
She sighs and I think she is pissed off. Instead she takes my hand.
Alan is camped against the wall adjacent to us. He has a swag, a small camp stove and two boxes crammed with books which he has stacked like shelves. He sits with his back against the wall and reads. I go over and ask him what he is reading.
‘Hemingway. Pull up a pew,’ he says, pointing to an upturned milk crate. I sit down and he makes me a cup of black tea. ‘Remember sugar? I used to have it white with three sugars. Not any more, hey?’
I take the warm enamel cup from him.
‘Hemingway was an arse,’ he says. ‘But he could write, gotta give him that. Have a look.’ He motions to the books. ‘You’re welcome to anything you want.’
I scan the titles and stop on the silver spine of
‘We were studying this at school,’ I manage.
‘Ahhh, Mr Joseph Conrad – what we are when nobody’s watching. Good stuff. Take it.’
‘Thank you.’
I drink my tea and think how I’ve drunk more tea in the last three months than I have in my entire life. I guess it’s what people do, isn’t it? Like after funerals. There’s something soothing about the normality of it.
Alan tells me that he’s from the country and was staying with his brother when the army first came into the city.
‘They went from street to street, syphoning fuel out of cars in exchange for food,’ he says. ‘Then a month or so back, when things started getting real hairy, they began exchanging food for information on people who were staying here from across the border.’
‘He told them about you?’
Alan shrugs. ‘Left before he had a chance. We were never that close. I was with him because my sister passed away just before all this started, before the missiles and what not. The young fella your brother?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. Don’t know where my mum and dad are.’
‘You keep him close then, won’t you?’
‘I will.’
