Nature of Ash, The (11 page)

We manage another hour before the road starts winding uphill. Mikey’s whingeing grows so incessant even Jiao can’t shut him up. I try to bribe him with an ice-cream if he can make it through to Whanganui, but out of bloody nowhere he throws a total spaz.

‘Want home!’ he cries. He runs on to the road, lies right in the middle, and refuses to get up.

All three of us try to shift him, but the little shit kicks out whenever we get close. It’s a major bloody road, and this great lump’s just lying there. I swear I hear cars approaching even when there are none.

Jiao squats down as close as she can get. ‘Mikey, please get off the road.’ For once Mr Me-Me-Me ignores her and won’t budge.

‘Get up, you nong!’ Travis snares one of Mikey’s legs,
copping a kick on the shin for it, but he doesn’t let go. And Mikey’s so enraged with Travis, his concentration slips enough for me to grab his other leg while Jiao ducks in to wrap her arms under his shoulders. We haul the squirming little shit over to the verge. Just in time, too. As we’re laying him down on the grass, a real car screams over the rise, slowing to sticky-beak as it drives past.

‘Don’t you ever bloody do that again!’ I yell. ‘You could’ve killed yourself — and all of us.’

‘Don’t care. Want Dad.’ He starts to cry, not his usual manipulative fake stuff, but real heart-felt tears.

I kneel down beside him and, though he tries to swat me away, I manage to get my arms around him for a hug. As soon as he can sense I’m no longer grumpy, he relaxes, and I rock him till he starts to calm.

‘Ashley?’ Travis’s voice sounds tense. I look up. He’s pointing towards the car that nearly ran us down. It’s pulled up further down the road. Is slowly turning round.

‘You okay now, mate?’ When Mikey nods, I help him to his feet.

The car is coming back along the gravel edge, aimed straight at us. All four of us cluster up against the fence line, as if that will somehow provide protection, but the car stops right beside us. The driver’s door opens, and a man gets out. He’s Asian, middle-aged and wears a well-cut suit — which all adds up to someone connected to the UPR. I glance at Jiao, who glances back at me, a little boogly-eyed, and shrugs as if to say
Just because I’m Asian, don’t ask me
. I feel heat roar up my face.

He walks around the car towards us. ‘Gidday,’ he says, his Kiwi accent unexpected. ‘I know this probably
sounds crazy, but you wouldn’t be Shaun McCarthy’s kids by any chance?’

I’m gobsmacked. How the hell does he know that?

Bloody Mikey pipes up ‘That’s my dad!’ Not that this guy will understand his words, but the affirming tone is clear.

I practise my best fuck-off face. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘I’m Simon Chan. I work with Shaun.’ He jerks his head. ‘I
worked
with Shaun.’ He sighs. ‘My friend Lucinda rang me at my motel this morning and asked me to keep out an eye for you. She knew I was up this way and said you might be needing help.’

‘What’s this got to do with Lucinda?’ If this is no coincidence, then what the hell is going on?

He shrugs. ‘Some woman cop got hold of her last night.’

Jeannie?
I look at Travis and he rolls his eyes.
Control
freak
, he mouths.

Simon steps towards us, holding out his hand. ‘You must be Mikey.’

When Mikey shakes his hand and smiles, I know I can breathe again. I trust his people-reading skills; I’ve never seen him get it wrong.

‘Hi,’ I say, offering my own hand. ‘I’m sorry to be cagey.’

‘No worries. It’s good to see you’re being cautious. And wise given the circumstances.’ He smiles at Jiao and Travis, so I introduce them too. ‘I gather the train is still stuck in the middle of nowhere and the army are preparing to rescue the passengers. So where are you guys heading for now?’

‘We’re trying to get to Whanganui by nightfall.’

‘You know it’s still a good ten kilometres?’

I shrug. ‘We don’t really have a choice.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Simon says. ‘It’s no problem. I don’t need to be back to Wellington until tonight.’

Travis grins. ‘That would be mint!’ He’s right.

It’s a bit of a squash getting all four of us, plus gear, into Simon’s tiny car, but he seems unfazed as he heads back up the hill towards Whanganui. My head’s bursting with questions. The guy seems trustworthy, but it’s still bloody weird him turning up like this. I can’t ever recall hearing his name.

‘So what work did you do with Dad?’ I ask.

‘I run an advocacy service for imported workers and Shaun often used to help support my clients when they ran foul of the law.’ He smiles at me. ‘He was quite a guy … Right now I’m trying to negotiate the release of the workers up at Niún
i Farms.’

Jiao gasps. ‘That’s where my parents are!’

Simon glances at her in his rear-vision mirror. His face is grim. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. The situation there is most concerning.’

If ‘most concerning’ is the same as the dentist telling you ‘This will be a little bit uncomfortable’, then Jiao’s parents are really in the shit.

‘Our phones still aren’t working. What’s the story?’ I ask. ‘We saw a whole bunch of war planes flying over a while back.’

‘The government claims terrorists have hacked into the communications networks. The whole country’s down. Only landlines are still working, though threats have been made to those as well.’

‘Bloody hell. Who’s responsible for that?’

‘Well, I personally think it’s the government trying to stop any organised protest, but the usual suspects have
been bandied round: the UPR, the Triads, Muru …’

‘Muru?’ My stomach contracts.

‘Yeah. Though it’s never clear whether the government really suspects them or if they’re just a handy decoy.’

‘What’s happening at Niún
i Farms?’ Jiao asks. Her face is tight with nerves.

‘I’ve spent the last two days trying to negotiate the workers’ release but so far I’ve drawn a blank. The place is like a fortress — even the workers have been armed up to the teeth.’

‘But my mum and dad are there! How can I get them out?’

Simon pulls over to the side of the road suddenly, and shifts around in his seat. ‘I wish I could offer you some hope, but right now it’s not looking good. I’ve negotiated until I’m blue in the face but, quite truthfully, the only way to get someone out of there alive at the moment is by some kind of covert operation …’ He raises a finger at Jiao. ‘Don’t even
think
about it. This is no game. If you go near the place you’ll end up dead. Just leave it to the likes of me and, fingers crossed, to people like Amnesty and the UN. I promise we’ll do everything we can.’

‘But you know what the Leaders will do. They’ll use them as human shields …’

‘Whatever happens, the last thing we need right now is anyone taking things into their own hands.’

‘But Chandler and his lot will sell us out,’ I say. ‘You can’t expect people to sit by and watch.’

Simon smiles, yet still manages to look really sad. ‘You sound just like Shaun.’

He eases the car back on to the road, and I store this
treasure away to take out when I’m alone. All of us are quiet now as we peer at the sprinkling of houses on the outskirts of Whanganui, its streets empty except for a few skinny dogs.

We follow the river until Simon pulls into a ramshackle park dotted with ancient playground equipment in the shape of whales and pirate ships, dinosaurs and giant shoes. ‘I’ll have to leave you here, guys, if I’m going to make it back tonight.’ He points toward a stand of kowhai. ‘There’s a camping ground just through the trees. But lie low, eh?’ He looks pointedly at Jiao. ‘There’s nothing you can do right now. Find somewhere off the beaten track and wait this out. And Ashley—’ He pulls me aside and speaks quickly. ‘Keep her out of the public eye. Anyone who looks like us right now is at risk.’

‘What do you think’s going to happen?’

‘The WA declared a no-flight zone over New Zealand late last night and started landing troops. The Aussies are in on it too. Our government has no choice but to acquiesce to calls for war.’

‘So what will the UPR do now?’

‘Protect their assets. They’re mighty pissed off. They claim they’ve been misrepresented and they’ll not give in to bullying from the WA or anyone else.’

‘Do
you
think the UPR is responsible for the bomb that killed Dad and George?’

Simon stares off into the trees, and I can almost hear the ticking of his brain before he speaks. ‘I’m not sure. There are things that don’t add up.’

Isn’t that what Jeannie said?

There’s no time to press him further. He climbs back
into his car then, like an afterthought, beckons me over to the open window. Hands me his business card and two twenty-dollar notes.

‘Take care, and if you need me I’ll be up this way again in a couple of days. With any luck the phone network will be back up and running by then.’

I stand well back and raise my hand to wave him off. ‘Thanks so much.’

He nods. ‘One last thing. You need to know your friend’s parents don’t have a hope in hell. They’re as good as dead.’

While my mouth’s still hanging open he drives away.

THE CAMPGROUND IS FULL
of families who’ve escaped the city, all trying to make the grotty surroundings more like home. Framed photos balance on camping tables, cut flowers wilt in jam jars and tangled power leads snake along muddy paths. All this, yet there’s an atmosphere of barely suppressed rage — way too many angry displaced people for it to be safe for Jiao. We head back to the park to settle in the cave formed by the belly of the concrete whale.

Mikey is in heaven playing on the swings and slides with Travis — just as well, as Jiao’s so distracted it’s like she’s in a trance. She eats a wedge of bread and drinks a cup of tea brewed over at the campground, but her eyes have dulled to inward-staring holes and when I ask if she’s okay she doesn’t seem to hear.

It’s obvious she’s worrying about her parents and it
cuts me up to keep what Simon told me to myself. But what’s the point in telling her? She’s upset enough. The trouble is, it’s like Dad keeping those threatening letters secret: when you
do
find out the truth, you want to throttle all the people in the know.

‘How far is it from here to Eltham?’ she asks suddenly.

‘Not sure.’ I’m buggered if I’ll say. ‘Anyway, forget it. You heard what Simon said: the safest thing you can do right now is keep away.’

‘You don’t understand—’

‘I sure as hell do. But I’m trying to keep you safe.’ Funny, for a moment I have a weird sense of déjà vu. I’ve had very similar arguments with Dad, only in reverse.

She picks up the pocket knife I used to cut the bread. Starts tracing its blade along the lines on her palm. Inches it towards her wrist. I can’t take my eyes off it. Now she’s flicking the blade across her skin, the point drawing tiny beads of blood.

‘Stop that!’ I shoot my hand out to snatch the knife away, but she’s too quick. She lays it on the ground behind her back.

‘Do you have any real idea what my parents sacrificed to raise me here?’ She stares me down like she’s a lawyer.

My face heats up. ‘Enough to know they’d be destroyed if you carked it trying to save them.’

‘You don’t get it, do you? I just want to keep them safe. I don’t care about me.’

‘Well, I fucking do. You think I want to see another person dead? And what about Mikey? You think he’d cope with that?’

‘At least you’ve got Mikey and he’s got you. Ma and Ba are all I’ve got.’

Jiao is crying now, tears leaking out between her fingers as she hides her face. I shuffle over to her, flick the knife away, and wrap my arms around her. She smells musky and slightly rancid, but then so do I. And she’s warm — soft and warm — as her head nestles into my shoulder. I stroke the back of her head, smoothing down her hair, feeling the heat radiate off her neck.

‘It’ll be okay,’ I say, though clearly it won’t.

I can feel the movement of her mouth against my neck as she replies, but all I hear is smothered noise.

‘What?’

She lifts her head, her face so close to mine her breath tickles my cheek. ‘I have to do something to save—’

I kiss her mouth to shut her up. Stupid, I know. Just bloody instinct.

I’m still trying to gauge if she’s responding when I hear a roar. A hand clamps down on my shoulder. Mikey stands over me, his face purple with rage.

‘Hate you, Ashy.’ He grabs my collar and hauls me to my feet. Smashes me in the nose with all his strength. ‘Jow Jow’s mine.’

Pain splinters behind my eyes. I stumble. Trip over my feet and fall back to the ground, elbow first. This new explosion of pain is so intense I gag on bile. Then, bit by painful bit, I finger my nose. Yep, it’s so tender it must be broken. Fuck Mikey’s hormones. Wait till I get my hands on him …

But the little shit has scarpered. ‘Leave him,’ I say to the others, who’ve been gawping open mouthed. ‘He’ll come back when he’s hungry.’

I drag myself over to the drinking fountain to soak my T-shirt in water, pressing the wet wad against my
nose to ease the pain. It doesn’t help, so when Travis offers me a shot of his whisky I don’t refuse. In fact, I don’t refuse four or five times. By my sixth shot, though, self-pity descends like a sticky fog. I can’t see through it. Don’t even want to try. Let them sort their own shit: I’ve had enough. I curl up right inside the whale and close my eyes, matching my breath to the steady throbbing of my nose.
Ka-boom. Kaboom
. Rudolf the fucking reindeer has nothing on me.

I’m not sure how long I lie like this, but by the time I prop myself up and start to register the outside world again the sun is low behind the kowhai trees, and Jiao and Travis are locking horns. My nose still hurts like hell.

‘Come on. That’s stupid. They don’t
have
to do what they’re told.’ Travis’s voice is slurred.

‘
You’re
stupid.’ Jiao’s voice is spring-loaded. ‘Ignorant too. We’re raised to do as we’re told — and, if we don’t, the punishment is quick and harsh. Everyone’s terrified to step out of line.’

‘Well, more fool them. It’s not like they’re prisoners.’

‘Don’t you listen to the news? That’s
exactly
what they are.’ She sounds so furious I wouldn’t be surprised if she biffed him. And why not? Let’s have a free-for-all. Why should I be the only one to field a fist?

‘Fuck, where’s Mikey?’ I scramble to my feet.

‘No idea,’ Jiao says. ‘I checked around the park twice.’

‘Shit. Why didn’t you wake me? He could be bloody anywhere. Look, you’d better stay, in case he turns up — and anyway it’s not safe for you to be wandering about. Travis will have to keep you company.’

Travis clambers to his feet and sways. ‘Nah, I’ll come too.’

‘You won’t,’ I say. ‘You’re pissed.’

‘Nah, truly — I’ll be fine.’ It’s so pathetic. He can hardly stand.

‘You’ll stay. I need you here for Jiao.’ She snorts, as if to say he couldn’t protect a bloody fly. ‘Yeah, well, maybe he can breathe on anyone who comes too close. That’d knock them out. I’ll check in every half hour in case he comes back on his own.’

The park is full of kids from next door’s camping ground but Mikey’s nowhere to be seen. I search every possible hiding place — trees, pipes, toilets, Mother Hubbard’s giant shoe — it’s clear he’s not here. I go back to see if Jiao and Travis have any news, but Mikey hasn’t returned. Which means I’ll have to search outside the park.

It’s kind of freaky how quiet the streets are here: no kids, no gardeners, no dog walkers, no bikes. It’s like the population’s simply vamoosed. I do a circuit of the roads around the park, but still no luck. The light is fading now, the temperature cooling down. I feel sick with nerves. What if he’s lost? What if some pervert or psycho’s lured him home? If I can’t find him soon, I’ll have to call the cops. He’s far too trusting to be out alone at night.

Please, Mikey, please. Come back now.

I check in with Jiao again. She’s on her own. ‘Where the hell is Travis? Don’t tell me he’s done a runner too.’

‘He’s gone in search of a landline to call his mum.’

‘Oh great, just what we need. What’s the bet Jeannie will blame
me
for his pisshead rantings. You’d better come with me, then. I don’t want you here alone.’

‘But what if Mikey comes back and we’re all gone?’

‘Shit, you’re right. Okay, but stay well at the back of the whale. Keep out of sight. Oh, and I’m sorry … you know. About the kiss. It didn’t mean anything.’ Jiao frowns. ‘No, no. I mean it was nice and everything, and obviously I like you or I wouldn’t have tried …’ All I’m doing is making things worse. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. ‘Anyway. I’m sorry.’

I don’t wait around for her to dissect this. I’m guessing I’ve just blown whatever friendship we were starting to form.
Head not balls, mate. Head not balls
. Dad’s favourite saying right through my adolescent years.

Where the hell is Mikey? I jog across the park and spread my search more widely, checking all the side streets I skipped before. By the time I reach the bridge a couple of kilometres away from the park I reckon I’ll have to turn back — but then I spot the entrance to a tunnel back along the road.
Ding dong
. It’s exactly the kind of place Mikey would love.

The walls are lined with small white tiles, and the place is dimly lit by overhead fluorescent strips. I peer inside, but the tunnel’s so bloody long I can only vaguely see the other end. I step inside and start to run, the echo of my footsteps pinging off the walls. What the hell will I do if he’s not in here? What if he’s fallen in the river and this is a wild goose chase?
Jeezus. If you’re out there, Dad, now would be a good time to help
.

I hate being hemmed in like this. If someone shuts the gates and locks me in, I’ll freak. It’s true. I have a recurring nightmare where I’m trapped inside a box deep underground and can’t get out, and every frickin’ time it wakes me up I’m gasping my last breath.

There’s no sign of Mikey anywhere along the tunnel,
and when I reach the other end I find there’s no exit after all. But there’s an elevator, go figure that. A sign says it’ll take me up the Durie Hill Tower. I push the buttons.

The lift seems to take for ever before it grinds to a stop. I walk out on to a viewing deck to see the lights of Whanganui flicking on below. The river winds through the landscape like a silver-bellied eel, and I can make out the park and camping ground below me, the whale no more than a nondescript grey blob. The sun is setting now, lighting the horizon line. I see the thread of coast, the hint of Mount Taranaki’s perfect cone, and scan around in search of the three other mountains — Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngauruhoe — but am distracted by a dirty great column of smoke rising in the north-west, in the direction of Eltham. Black smoke, the colour of disaster.

I’m startled by a muffled cough and spin around. No one is behind me, so I edge my way around the circular platform till I’m opposite the lift entrance. And there he is, all hunched against the rising chill, chin on his knees. His face is streaked with grime and dried-up snot.

He glowers at me as I approach, and for a moment it’s a toss-up whether to beat the crap out of him or cry. I let tears win. I’m just so bloody pleased to see him. I slither down beside him, grateful he doesn’t kick or run.

‘I’m sorry, mate. I wasn’t trying to steal your girl.’

His bottom jaw is thrust so far forward he looks like a mutant pug. ‘Jow Jow’s mine.’

‘Actually,’ I say, ‘she’s no one’s. Not yours
or
mine.’

‘Mine.’ He folds his arms across his chest, shaking with cold.

I peel my sweatshirt off and wrap it around his
shoulders, drawing in a sharp breath as the breeze shears through my shirt. ‘She’s worried about you, mate. Come back. It’s time for tea.’

‘Want Dad. Want home.’

I’m never going to stop him spouting this; I see that now. It’s going to be his new default, guaranteed to leave me feeling as miserable and helpless as him. Not that he’s doing it on purpose — he’s only cunning to a point. The trick is how to out-fox him when he’s in stubborn mode.

‘What say we use some of the money Simon gave me to buy hot chips? I saw a shop just down the road.’

He drums his fingers on his chin, pontificating little twat. ‘Fizzy too?’

I can’t help but laugh. Did I
really
think Mikey’s not cunning? Big fat wrong. He’s got me round his stubby little finger and he knows it. But, hell, I don’t care. I’ve found him and he’s safe — everything else is unimportant after that. I dig him in the ribs. ‘Yeah, fatso. Fizzy too.’

Mikey takes minimal coaxing after that. We make our way back down the lift and through the tunnel, and I end up blowing thirty bucks on fish and chips. Bugger it, I’m cold and sore and hungry
and
I reckon I deserve it after all that stress. I get some ice from the chip shop too, and use it to help dull the throbbing in my nose. Jiao and Travis — who is back and uncommunicative — help us make short work of the food. Then, because I’m so relieved I’ve found the little bastard, I play spotlight with Mikey until he’s so exhausted he’s guaranteed to sleep.

Only once I’ve tucked him in his sleeping bag and helped him drop off do I have time to think back over what’s happened. What the hell would I do if I hadn’t found him? Or if I didn’t have Mikey at all? There’d be no
point in anything. I glance over at Jiao, who’s reading by the light of one small candle. I finally understand where she’s at. No family means no life. No love. Simple as that.

It could already be too late for Jiao’s parents — that cloud of black smoke freaks me out. I daren’t tell her. Times like this I wish I still believed in fairy tales and magic happy-ever-afters. But, even if I could waggle my nose and materialise up there, the problem is that Simon said the farm compound is like a fortress. How the hell are we supposed to deal with that? You’d need to have an ‘in’. And a diversion. And bloody good nerves. You’d need someone who’s done this kind of thing before. You’d need …
Oh fuck.
Now
there’s
a random thought …

I rouse Travis from his rat-arsed sulk. ‘Did you find a phone that worked?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

‘Phone box in the camp.’

‘Did you speak to your mum?’

‘Ah ha.’

Oh great, we’re down to sounds now, not even words. ‘What did she say?’

‘I bet you’d like to know.’

‘Yeah, actually I would.’ Screw him, he just ate nearly ten bucks’ worth of fish and chips. I reckon that’s a fair price for a few measly words.

‘She says there are riots breaking out. Looting too.’

Jiao looks up from her book. ‘Did she have any news about Niún
i Farms?’