The Worm King (20 page)

Ken pointed at Āmiria. ‘It’s her
father.’

Sgt Kevin smiled. ‘We can take you there now
if you like.’

‘Really! Now?’

‘That’s what I said.’

Lord Brown stared at the pile of bricks
across the road. ‘Are you alright to leave this? Is it far?’

‘Sure. Hardly anyone’s turned up in the last
few days, and they can’t drive past this anyway. There’s a side street a block
over we use. If they’re walking, we’ll see them when we’re coming back because
we’ll only be gone half an hour, there and back. No worries. Usually there is
another guy here with us, Jimmy, but he’s crook at the moment. He’s at the gym
where her dad is, so I’ll check him while we’re there and kill two birds with
one stone, so no worries at all.’

Āmiria sat in the front seat next to
Tim for the short drive to the gymnasium. The headlights caught seven, maybe eight
people, during the journey, all walking quickly (and in one case running) but
the streets appeared considerably safer than Dubbo. She thought Tim was
probably about the same age as her, but leaner and wiry, with bronze skin and a
long fringe and one of those trendy padded bomber jackets with a stars and
stripes flag on the back, and stovepipe skateboarderish trousers which made him
look older. ‘We’re feeding outsiders at schools and some of the halls. ’Specially
places that used to be used for sports. I play league, and they’ve got six
families staying in our clubrooms. Can’t play now anyway, so it doesn’t matter
I ’spose. Did you see the sun the other day?’

‘Maybe.’ She looked out the side window then
leant forward into the windscreen, trying to see directly overhead, then back
out the side window again. ‘Not much sun out there now, is there?’

‘It’s two in the morning. There wouldn’t
be.’

She felt like an idiot, not even knowing the
time, so didn’t reply so as to draw less attention to it.

The van drew up before a single story, brick
building. ‘We’re here,’ Tim announced, opening his door and hopping out. To
their left stood a larger building in a similar style, and further on, at the
edge of the headlights, a wall with a basketball hoop. Obviously a school. Sgt
Kevin pulled a torch off the dash, switched it on, then turned off the
headlights and engine. Āmiria jumped out.

Tim pointed at the right-hand corner of the
larger building. ‘In there.’

Her eyes began to adjust, picking up a
pinprick of light moving and leaping back and forth, leaving a jagged
fluorescent circle. Smokers passing a cigarette. A door opened behind the
smokers, and a shaft of light spiked out. Two men, and one of them was . . . Tamati!
The door closed without anyone entering or leaving and the light disappeared.

‘Tamati!’ Āmiria almost tripped on a hidden
step, shouting his name on the run.

‘Hey girl. Thought that was you I saw
getting out.’ Tamati stepped back and reopened the door so they could see. He
gave her a hug, then pulled back, nodding at the sergeant. ‘You with these fūlla’s?’

‘Yeah. Dad here?

‘Inside.’

Wiremu Ruarangi’s face looked thinner, and
he had a woollen beanie pulled down to his eyebrows and a heavy knee-length greatcoat
on, but it was her Dad alright and Āmiria was over the moon. It felt like
this ginormous weight whisked off her shoulders, and at long last, she could
finally relax. A bit embarrassed too, she had to admit, because he’d made such a
huge scene of loudly thanking Lord Brown and the Hat for rescuing her. As if!

Eventually the hubbub settled and she had a
chance to look around. There were maybe a hundred people in the gym but it was
hard to tell because there appeared no apparent order to the layout: bedrolls scattered
everywhere, people sitting up, or lying horizontal or talking quietly in small
groups. They’d kept a small area at the far end clear of bedrolls with a long
table. It was darker down that end too. She counted five lanterns for the whole
gym, and one of those was on a lifesaver tower by the main door where they’d
entered. The tower looked like it’d been taken from the school pool, or maybe
the tennis court. Perched on top, a man read, and occasionally looked up and
glanced around. He hadn’t gotten down when they came in and it seemed rude he
had a whole lantern to himself, when the other four were spread between so many
people. He must really like reading, although if he were trying to keep an eye
on people as well, Āmiria thought having a light right next to him would
make it much harder, so he wasn’t very good at whatever he was supposed to be doing.

‘They’ve been moving us from place to place
to work,’ her father told Lord Brown, the Hat and Zelda. Jerry and Ken had gone
to the loo, and David had settled down for a nap. ‘We were getting some slops
for tucker, but now we’ve stopped working, we get less slops. Apparently one bloke
from down the other end there, who we didn’t know, said he wanted to shoot
through, so they just took him to the edge of town and told him to bugger off. Dunno
if they even gave him any food, and I know he didn’t have a torch, so he
wouldn’t a got far.’

Lord Brown gazed around the populous. ‘What
sort of work they have you doing?’

‘Shifting bricks off the footpath from a
couple of houses that fell over. The rains got something in it, and our
raincoats just bloody dissolved and it was like we all had sunburn, so we told
them we weren’t going out in that no more for a while.’

‘Fair enough,’ agreed Zelda. ‘We noticed the
rain was a bit marginal too.’

Peanuts licked Tim’s hand. Jimmy had been
much improved, and returned with Sgt Kevin, giving the boy a break from
roadblock duty. ‘You might have a problem with that dog, girl,’ her father said.
‘Surprised they let it in.’

‘The Deacon did see it,’ confirmed Tim. ‘He
asked Dad if it was staying. You should be alright.’ Tim didn’t look very
confident about it though.

Her father lowered his voice. ‘We’re
supposed to do exercises twice a day before meals, or you’re not supposed to
get anything to eat, but they’ll still give you something anyway. See that fūlla
up on the tower? Calls himself the “Lodge Deacon”. He’s with the Masons and gives
the orders and spends his whole time watching everyone. He tries to move people
around if he thinks they’re causing trouble. Geoff reckons this is like being
in the Big House. He did a string in Paremoremo.’ Tamati sniggered. Āmiria
knew Paremoremo was a jail in Auckland, but had no idea how many months or
years a “string” was.

‘Two days ago we noticed the sun coming
through, but didn’t say nothing, because I wanted to see what they’d do.’ Her
father jerked his thumb in the direction of the watchtower, and shrugged. ‘As
it turned out, they hadn’t even seen it, but someone else told them, and they passed
it onto us straight away. Gave us some extra kai too, so we think they’re on
the level.’

Tim looked surprised they’d known about the
sun two days ago, and Tamati ruffled his hair. ‘They’re not all bad though!’ Tim
blushed. ‘That right Tim? You do all the work in here anyway, don’t you?’ Tamati
laughed, and the boy turned even redder.

‘Tamati’s right,’ her Dad continued quietly.
‘Some of them are doing a great job, but some of the others, they’re downright
fucken crazy.’ Āmiria didn’t often hear him use the F-word in front of
her, so he must mean
really
crazy.

‘We need to get out of here. The cops and
local council have lost communication with pretty much everyone, and they don’t
have the numbers themselves, so they’re getting community groups like Rotary
and the Masons to help out. Now this militant faction of Rotary is virtually taken
over completely, and the Masons . . . well, they’re running
around like some kinda secret police.’

Tamati glanced around furtively. ‘I got a
feeling, if we stay here much longer, and this bloody weather doesn’t improve,
we all going to end up in someone’s pie.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Hole

A
strid had never seen Dick Snow look so haggard. He’d walked into
their room uncharacteristically stooped with disheveled hair, bags under his
eyes, and obviously hadn’t been sleeping. She’d been all set to tear into him
about the twins, and especially for taking so long to come see her, but after
seeing Dick, that would’ve seemed downright rude.

She didn’t feel too hot herself. Maybe it was
something going around, because Francesco had a splitting headache this morning.
Probably just the smell. The toilet bucket in their bathroom stank real bad,
despite the rolled-up towel crammed into the door jamb which was supposed to
prevent the whiff escaping.

‘We thought we
had
tracked their
parents down. Unfortunately it wasn’t them. I wanted to speak to you first,
before the girls arrived. We’ve still got feelers out, and are hopeful, but . . . ’
Dick shook his head sadly.

‘Is it getting light now?’ Francesco asked. Astrid
had seen the faint glow through their grimy window, noticing it before Francesco,
which she’d been particularly proud off.

‘We believe so. There was no sign of it
today, but the other day there was definitely something there.’ He smiled
weakly. ‘The bad news is, I’m sorry to say the hotel told me someone’s stolen
your truck, so when you leave it’ll have to be on foot.’

‘On foot?!’ replied Astrid, startled.

‘No!’ exclaimed Francesco. ‘And where is the
Winston? And why has our door been locked?

‘I’ll speak to the Building Manager about
that. I believe they insisted on the locks until they verified who you were,
and I’ve only just made it back. Also for the sake of security. Things are
chaos out there, I’m afraid. The hotel won’t let anyone just wander around:
they’re concerned people outside are still trying to break in for food. They
caught a group of them last night, and it all got rather nasty, I’m told. But
don’t worry, Bob’ll be camping in the hall near your room, so no one will sneak
through.’ He smiled reassuringly.

‘Of course, you don’t
have
to leave
either. You can stay as long as you like. What was the other thing? The dwarf? He
ran away! Do you know what was wrong with him?’ Dick frowned, puzzled. ‘Bob
needed help shifting some little boxes, and I’d suggested Winston might be of
use, then he simply run away. Bob thought the poor thing must’ve gone mad, with
the stress and everything. Just snapped. It wouldn’t surprise me.’

‘Who’s Bob?’

‘He does odd jobs for the hotel, and they’ve
lent him to the station while I’m staying here, although for the last few days
I’ve been called away. Yesterday Bob came and let me know you were here, but we
were calibrating tests and I couldn’t get a lift back until today.’ Dick leant
against the wall. Francesco stood by the window with his legs wide and arms
folded, while Astrid sat on the bed. She felt a little snubbed not being
involved with whatever the station was doing, mind you, she wouldn’t have been
that easy to track down. And why would you get the shortest person within miles
to help move stuff? Even if it was “little” equipment. Then again, why not? Everyone
had to help out, and there’d been tension between Dick and Winston for some
unknown reason right from word go, so it wasn’t inconceivable that when an
unpleasant job came up, Dick might’ve mentioned Winston’s name. Probably
would’ve done it unconsciously.

‘What’s the situation in Griffith? The concierge
told me you’re with the local council there.’

‘The people, they are resilient. The mayor
send me to find when the power will come back on, and the phones. So far I find
out not very much.’

‘It could be a while. To be honest, I don’t
think anyone here knows. How’s the fuel situation out your way? And the water?’

Francesco shrugged, shook his head. ‘In best
times is little; now is none. This why I here.’

‘Oh. These are troubled days, I’m afraid. Order
seems to have broken down almost completely. My understanding is, the
authorities are putting a game plan together for rebuilding, depending on how
the environment unfolds, which is where the station comes in. That’s why it’s
so good you’re here Astrid; the more hands the better. Absolutely. Anyway, we
know where you are if we need you, but certainly, if you need to get back to
family, or whatever you have to do, don’t hesitate. We think the twins should
stay here until we’ve confirmed their parent’s whereabouts. They’ve been
sharing a room with one of the chefs, which wasn’t very satisfactory, so it’s fortuitous
timing he decided to return home and isn’t likely to be back. I think the girls
will be much happier in here with you, but rest assured, if you have to leave
they’ll be well looked after.’ For an instant Astrid saw that old weatherman
confidence muscling through, with his prophecies and obfuscation shimmering like
a poisoned chalice under the fading tan.

Tap, tap, tap.
The soft knock barely moved the door, which Dick had left ajar. He turned
and opened it just enough to poke his head out, listened for a few seconds then
swung it open completely, exposing a young man in hotel uniform. Dick continued
listening but said nothing and the messenger was too quiet to hear. The man
finished and stepped back out of sight, waiting.

‘There’s a slight hitch. The hotel wants to
spray this wing for spiders, so we can go and wait with the girls in the
cafeteria by the courtyard. Li Sheng’s looking after them in there. Apparently
they’re doing the whole hotel: big huntsmen; they’ve come in because it’s
colder, I suppose. Might take two hours this fellow said. Problems. Always
problems.’ Dick shook his weary head.

Astrid certainly felt for him, but guiltily elated
in a way too, that they’d finally be leaving this room after god knows how long,
and she’d be able to confirm the twins were alright. If they were, and she was already
much relieved on that score after speaking with Dick, then she could start
making her way back to Griffith. They’d have to arrange some kind of transport
first of course. Walking that far obviously wasn’t an option, so surely Dick didn’t
mean it about leaving on foot? And what about Winston? Why would he just run away?
Actually, she’d picked up pretty clear vibes he was sort of keen on her, so why
would he run off like that? It didn’t make sense. They couldn’t leave without
at least
trying
to find him.

‘Wait on.’ Dick paused mid-step as they made
ready to leave. ‘One of the porters told me there’s a room down the end of here
that has channel six gear in it. I might make sure it’s covered over before
they spray everything. That stuff can be quite corrosive. You go ahead, I won’t
be long.’ He ushered them out of 237 then clicked the door closed, but didn’t
do up the external lock.

Astrid and Francesco followed the nervous porter
one way down the hall, while Dick went the other. It occurred to her that
huntsmen weren’t even poisonous, but it’d still be good to get rid of them.

After turning the corner at the end, Dick
stopped. Risk a peek back? Why not. He edged his head out, as slowly as
possible. No sign of them. Give them a minute anyway. He flexed his shoulders
back and forth, stretching, and working the sag out.
Arghhhh!

Dick smiled, and a proper smile this time
which felt good. He noticed a dark smear on the white wallpaper near the corner
of the corridor. It was on his fingertip too. A smudge of pencil lead, a remnant
of the dab he’d rubbed under his eyes an hour ago. Note to self: careless. When
it seemed certain they weren’t returning, he retraced his steps back up the
hall to room 235, the room directly next door to the bitches. He rapped his
knuckle twice on the door and it opened immediately.

Bob stood in the doorway gripping a
hand-drill. It was one of those heavy, ancient models with a “U” in the middle
where your arm rotated. The wood on the centre handle and knob at the end were
a grainy tea color, polished smooth by years of man-sweat. The metal was all
rusty-red, except for the drills spiraling leading edge, where it’d been ground
to a menacing silvery curve. You didn’t need to calibrate any fucking tests on
that baby to see it’s dangerous. Dick smiled at Bob. ‘Come on.’

They crossed the threshold into 237 and Bob sniffed
the air like a rodent entering a drain. Little bristles around his harelip
twitched, and the bandage over his eye had gone crusty, and needed changing. Normally
the smell would’ve been a concern, maybe leaving a telltale signature fragrance,
but the room already stank to high heaven from what Dick imagined to be the
toilet bucket in the bathroom.

A pair of heavily-framed prints decorated
the wall separating 237 and 235. Each showed a solitary Australian bushman
riding across some barren, godforsaken outback landscape. Same bushman, just
from a different angle in each. The artist must’ve thought by splitting it into
two paintings, it’d look as though the bushman had ridden further, somehow. People
really are easy to fool. Dick pulled the rooms side table along until it lay
under the left-hand print, then reached up and took Hopalong Cassidy down,
standing him on the carpet.

Bob got onto the table and began drilling a
hole in the wall.