The Wilful Eye (15 page)

Art said he loved me.

Art has taken the only money I had.

Maybe he just borrowed it? Maybe it was one of the others.

Art used me. Everything is gone.

Hyacinth's voice barged into the argument.

People aren't always what they seem. He might be a drug addict who'll make your life a misery.

Art said he doesn't need drugs when he's with me.

But you know he does. And this great adventure is over.

Gerda gritted her teeth and shook her head, stuffing her backpack roughly. She knew the truth; she'd known it near the start. There was nothing in Art that resembled Kai. She'd tried to replace her best friend in the weakest, saddest way, with a worthless copy.

Gerda wanted to lie there and die, wanted Art to find her body and be tortured forever. But she knew she had to leave, and as she jerked at her hair in the mirror, it was Kai's face she saw. His sad eyes implored her; he needed her. Or maybe she needed
him
.

The truck ride had transported Gerda into strange territory, where she didn't know the rules. The Tranquil Coast high-rises, built to give sun-worshippers their billion-dollar views, had icicles hanging from the balconies. The beggars looked all wrong – overfed with dazzling tans, even wearing chunky jewellery. In Sydney Gerda had known which suburbs to avoid, but not here. Negotiating the street gangs was heart-stopping. So far, Gerda had been lucky: she worked out exit plans well in advance, slipping into the big stores that hired their own security, staying the permitted five minutes, or disappearing into private yards and over back fences. She'd even bolted down a side street and into a dumpster. The stink: but surely it was better than being bailed up?

Gerda trudged on. Almost without warning, she was lying in the slush, the cold crawling up her back, the contents of her pack scattered. A sharp-eyed, baby-faced girl examined her things.

‘Where's your money? Give it here,' she said, voice loaded with menace. Two big dogs appeared behind her. They growled in a way that made Gerda's heart jibber.

The girl had fallen into step with her, and Gerda had turned to nod, never expecting
this
. She had no idea where the German Shepherds had come from. Gerda would have given the girl anything; anything to call off the dogs. Dogs had always loved her – these would rip her open on command.

‘No money,' she whispered, cursing her own stupidity. Hyacinth was wrong – there was no one to trust on this road. ‘I've already been robbed.'

‘Idiot
bitch
! Imbecile!' the girl said, smacking her hand to her head. She had mousy hair and seemed nondescript until you looked into her eyes, which were hazel and flinty and dangerous.

She wore a trench coat and looked to be a head shorter than Gerda. She hadn't seemed threatening at all.

‘Moron!' the girl yelled, and Gerda jumped. One dog let out a chilling howl. Gerda's mind raced.

‘You got robbed already, loser? So early in the day?' the girl spat.

Gerda noticed the way she fidgeted – her move- ments were elastic and her body never truly still. A rubber girl.

Eyes on the dogs, Gerda inched her way upright. the rubber girl snapped her fingers, and the dogs went quiet. The one that had howled dropped its head and thrust its nose at Gerda, who stiffened. But the dog nudged at her hand: it wanted a
pat
!

For an instant, relief made her laugh.

The rubber girl yelled at the Shepherd, eyes flicking from Gerda to the dog.

‘Useless mongrel!' the girl screeched. ‘Here!
Now
!'

But the dog didn't move. The girl aimed a kick at it, and, as Gerda flinched, the dog snarled in a way that made her head prickle.

‘Useless mutt likes you,' the girl said. ‘Two of a bloody kind.'

Gerda rubbed the dog's head, sensing something had turned.

‘Don't pat it!' the girl snarled. ‘Ruins 'em. Should slit your throat, stupid bitch.'

Cruel monster
, Gerda thought. But somehow the danger seemed to be leaking away. She was wrong.

‘Right. You got no money, you can help me get breakfast another way,' the girl said, grabbing Gerda by the throat. ‘Pick up your stuff. I got your precious diary here, so don't even think about taking off.'

Gerda felt her face glowing. Someone else seeing all her angst about Kai, her pathetic gush of feelings for Art . . . she'd rather have her heart cut out with a rusty knife. She followed, feet dragging, eyes down. The dogs – even the friendly one – seemed to herd her.

The rubber girl stationed her in cosmetics. No matter how many times she did it, Gerda felt shame shrinking her. She was studying the most expensive mascara on display. She was picking it up, testing it, slipping it into her pocket, mumbling to herself, putting it back on the shelf again. Putting on some Sunnigloss, pulling faces for the security camera, doing her best to look deranged. Finally an enormous, bored assistant only a couple of years older than Gerda came up and grabbed her by the arm.

‘What you doing, sweetie pie? Time to move on. Go piss 'em off in MegaMart.'

‘But I want to buy some Sunnigloss,' Gerda whined, shaking her shoulder out of the girl's grip. ‘I could have you for assault. Go read up on customer relations, lovey,
and get your hands off me
.'

She deserved an acting award from Hollywood.

The girl mumbled into her headset: something about another fruit'n'nut bar.

Just about time to go
, Gerda judged.

The porker grabbed her arm again, and another uniformed figure advanced down the aisle, reminding Gerda of a Dalek.

‘I'd be careful the way you're handling me. I think you should know my mother is a barrister. What did you say your name was?' Gerda ranted.

In her mind's eye she saw the rubber girl in action – fingers snaking out for cheese, yoghurt, chocolate mousse and caramel sundaes, nuts, canned peaches, apples and popcorn. Her mouth watered. While Gerda staged the diversion, she'd be loading up her trench coat. Even dog food. If Gerda kept their attention long enough to satisfy the rubber girl, she'd let Gerda eat as well. Gerda's stomach rumbled all the time – she was getting very good at this.

They were sitting in a dumpster for warmth, on a groundsheet stolen from Great Outdoors. She must have done a good job – today the rubber girl was letting her eat whatever she wanted. Even the smell of stinking rubbish didn't put her off the food. The girl entertained herself lobbing empty cans down at the dogs, not caring that they might cut their tongues trying to lick them out. Kurt was stationed near rubber girl, Rudolph sitting directly below Gerda. Gerda's stomach felt full and the girl seemed relaxed. But this was a serrated calm.

‘I read your
diary,'
said the rubber girl, whose name Gerda still didn't know. As always, her voice dripped scorn.

‘Didn't know you could read,' Gerda snapped, instantly hating herself.

The rubber girl's eyes went wide: she was rocked.

Gerda had learned never to argue, because the girl had a sadistic, wild streak, and she vented her anger wherever she could, but especially on the dogs. Kurt just yelped and took it, but poor Rudolph cowered and whined. She drew the razor-sharp hunting knife she often traced across Gerda's throat. Gerda knew a major dose of humiliation was coming.

‘Couldn't keep your boyfriend, you useless dolt,' the girl said in her nasty singsong voice.

‘I left
him
,'
Gerda said, despising the girl. She anticipated the sting of the knife across her neck. ‘He stole from me.'

‘Why?' the girl asked, cocking her head.

‘You read it. Buy more drugs, I guess,' Gerda said. She'd played it repeatedly in her mind. Surprisingly, it hurt a little less each time.

‘So what about the other one . . . that Kai?' Gerda flinched as the girl said his name. Somehow she had to get away, get back on the road.

‘Why'd he shoot through, then?'

Gerda hung her head, this time less sure. ‘Dunno, really. Drugs too, I guess. But maybe he just went out into the world.'

Could it really be that simple? All the hours she'd spent thinking had done nothing to solve the puzzle.

‘Nah, I don't reckon he went exploring. I know about that blonde bitch,' the rubber girl said. Gerda stared, mouth full of doughnut.

‘She sucks people in. She gets 'em hooked on this party drug and makes 'em into her little pawns. You catch her name?'

‘Anya.'

‘Anya! That's it! Tried it on
me
.'

Gerda was shocked at the long speech from the rubber girl, but also that this spiky creature had herself been trapped by the ice queen.

Then she understood – no one would burn the rubber girl again.

The girl's eyes had gone cloudy, remembering. ‘You should go now. Might be too late,' she said, half to herself.

Gerda grabbed at the glimmer of hope. ‘So. You know where to find her?'

‘Somewhere in Melbourne. Still got the address, but it must be two years old. She'd be long gone by now.' She unzipped one of her pockets and took out a dirty scrap of paper.

‘I'll take it anyway,' Gerda said. She jumped up and grabbed her backpack, snatched back the diary and said: ‘I want half the food.'

‘Take it,' the rubber girl said. ‘You're okay, Gerda. Take Rudolph too – he likes you. Won't do nothing for me. But watch out. That bitch is crazy . . . you get her angry, she's somehow . . . supernatural.'

‘So . . . how can I . . .?' Gerda asked, hope plummeting.

The rubber girl just shrugged. ‘Dunno. Dunno how I got out, really. I don't remember it much. My brain is still fogged from then. All I know is, before you freeze, you burn.'

The girl frowned, concentrating. Gerda waited.

‘And hot fights cold.'

Gerda hugged the girl, and was surprised to feel her tremble. It sounded ridiculous.
Before you freeze, you burn.
How could she solve the riddle of those words?

It was difficult getting a ride with Rudolph, but at last a dog lover stopped for them: a woman originally from Lapland. The storms continued all the way down the coast, and when the Lapp woman let them out in an industrial suburb, the gusting air chilled Gerda to her bones. She unwrapped the crumpled piece of paper from the rubber girl for the millionth time.

‘Twenty-seven Mawson Lane, Cranbourne,' she read aloud to Rudolph. The woman had said to follow the road they were on for a few ks. She'd written down the rest of the instructions. As Gerda left the vehicle, the flat-faced woman smiled.

‘Few understand cold like Lapps. A single snowflake is a wonder, but beware. Many snowflakes wrap you in their blanket. You will sleep and fail to wake. I hope you may find your friend. Good luck, little Gerda.' As she waved, Gerda's throat felt full.

They plodded on, fighting snow flurries that seemed harsher and bleaker than before. Gerda shivered at the huge task ahead. It seemed weeks since she'd seen Kai – and if he wasn't at the address she'd been given, how would she ever find him? And if he
was
there, how would she ever free him? It was either the ice queen's drug factory, or her own home. Would it be guarded like a fortress?
All she had was Rudolph, and she didn't want to put the dog in any danger. He nuzzled her hand, demanding a pat. When everything seemed hopeless, the dog still made her smile. She was the luckiest person in the world, and her luck would hold. It must.

The wind rocked them back on their heels and gusted in their faces no matter which way they turned. Though her eyes watered and her cheeks stung, Gerda sweated from pushing through the biting sleet. Did people really live here? The further they walked, the fewer people they saw, except vagrants and hollow-eyed factory workers. Rudolph growled chillingly at a man attacking a stop sign, swinging a sledgehammer, screaming. They hurried on, passing factories spewing out black smoke. As she took in the maze of towers and ducts and pipes, the chimneys and vats and storage drums, Gerda knew the whole world was wrong, but she hoped like hell she could fix one tiny piece.