Riding the Storm (5 page)

T
HE WIND WAS
already howling around the house, gusting strongly enough to make the windows rattle. The sound was disturbing and, with increasing apprehension, Ryan listened to the latest news bulletins on the radio warning people that an intense tropical cyclone was heading for the coast of North Queensland and that it was unlikely to miss. More often than not, a cyclone would veer off out to sea or lose intensity before hitting the mainland, but not this time. Even the newsreader sounded tense and on the verge of panic.

‘Residents are urged to head for the Evacuation Centres without delay. The weather bureau cannot advise exactly when the storm will hit but no one should be caught outdoors, as flying debris will be the least of your troubles—’

He realized he should have woken her earlier and left home before.

‘Mum.’ He crouched beside her chair, shaking her gently so as not to alarm her. ‘Wake up. We really do have to leave now – we should have gone hours ago.’

‘What for?’ Joanne awoke with a start, looking bleary-eyed. ‘I don’t want to be caught outside if it’s going to rain. And if we leave now, I’ll miss my favourite soap.’ She sounded petulant
as a child. ‘Rose’s daughter is getting married this week and you know how I’ve been looking forward to it—’

Ryan closed his eyes, praying for patience. ‘It’s just a story, Mum. Those people aren’t real.’

‘Not to you maybe.’ Joanne’s lip trembled and her face fell into sulky lines. ‘They’re like family to me.’

Ryan said nothing, suppressing the angry response that would only make her cry. If she were upset, it would be that much harder to get her to move. He glanced around the room, checking that he’d done as much as he could to make everything secure. He had pushed the dining chairs under the table and tied all their legs together so that nothing would move and pushed the larger pieces of furniture back against the walls. Everything that would fit had been stuffed into chests and the drawers taped shut. He had already turned off the power, knowing the electricity company would be closing it down at the mains.

While Joanne was sitting there sleeping, with her little dog in her lap, Ryan had been busy making the house secure, taping all the windows to stop them from shattering in the expected high winds. He could only hope that this old weatherboard home, built on stilts like most traditional Queenslanders’, would be capable of withstanding the worst of storms.

Joanne continued to stare at the blank television set, willing it to come back to life and entertain her.

‘Mum!’ Ryan tried again. ‘The electricity’s off, anyway. We must go now or we won’t get to the Evacuation Centre in time. Once it’s locked down, they won’t open up for anything and the storm’s on its way. It will be here quite soon.’

‘I don’t care.’ She pouted like a child, angry about missing her show. ‘And anyway, you’re just a boy. It’s not your business to tell me what to do.’ She drew herself up and looked down her nose at him; a new habit she had developed when she wanted to pull rank. ‘I’ll leave when I’m good and ready and not before.’

‘Oh, Mum.’ He sighed. ‘Please don’t be difficult. Not now.’

‘I dunno what all the fuss is about. We’ve seen storms before – it’s a hazard of living here. It’ll be a bit of a blow, that’s all.’ She smiled up at him, abnormally serene. ‘Look at you, darling. Getting all hot and bothered over nothing. Anyone would think we’re about to face World War Three.’

‘I don’t have time for this, Mum. I don’t want to scare you but right now there’s a storm heading this way and it’ll be a lot more than just a blow. A full-blown cyclone, category four and gathering momentum even as we speak. It’s massive and nobody knows what will happen when it hits. It will be stronger, larger and wider than anything we’ve seen before.’

‘So what?’ His mother was still unimpressed. ‘It is February, after all. The wet season. Storms are to be expected at this time of year.’

‘Not like this one. Don’t you see how quiet it is out there? Can you hear any birds?’

‘No.’

‘That’s because they’ve all left. Birds and other wild creatures sense these changes in the weather. They know when it’s not safe to stay.’

‘You go on then, Ryan.’ She smiled serenely and patted his hand, making him wonder if it had been a mistake to let her take two of her sedative pills instead of the usual one. ‘I’ll be
OK. I’ll just sit here with Tinka and wait till your father gets home.’

Ryan didn’t know what to say. Although Peter’s funeral had taken place some months ago now, Joanne was still in denial concerning his death. She refused to believe he wasn’t away on some errand in town. Her short-term memory was already failing and, as Doctor Richards predicted, she was going downhill fast. Only in her mid-forties, she was already losing her grip on reality, reverting to childhood. Her closest companion was Tinka, the little Italian greyhound who was sitting beside her now, pressing against her legs. Tinka, who had sense enough to shiver in apprehension, aware of the storm that was on its way.

Ryan smiled at the little dog, which looked back at him with trusting eyes. He still hadn’t found a way to tell Joanne that Tinka wouldn’t be allowed into the Evacuation Centre. The woman in charge there had been adamant when the question was raised.

‘Of course you can’t bring a dog,’ she snapped. ‘This refuge is only for people. It will be crowded enough as it is without the stink of animals, too. You and your mother should get here as soon as you can.’ The woman’s voice trembled and Ryan sensed she was holding herself together with some effort. ‘And do hurry! The latest reports say the storm is headed for Canesville directly. You’re right in the path of it.’

Ryan knew then it would be useless to say that his mother’s security depended on that little dog. Her sanity even. Somehow, he’d have to get Joanne into the ute without Tinka, then make an excuse to run back and shut the little dog in with the fowls. He couldn’t think what else to do. All
hell would break loose when Joanne realized the little dog had been left behind. He could only hope she wouldn’t try to get out of the car.

Joanne dithered, taking an age to locate her purse, and then she said she couldn’t find Tinka’s lead. This was when Ryan knew it was too late to go anywhere. The winds were already rising and it would be fatal to be caught out of doors. They must resort to plan B, taking the portable radio into the bathroom and hiding themselves under mattresses for protection. Hopefully, the old weatherboard home could withstand the storm and the torrential rain and floods that must follow.

‘What are you doing?’ Joanne complained as she watched her son strip the beds and stagger with the mattresses, forcing them into the bathroom. ‘I thought you said we had to leave now?’

‘Too late.’ He was grunting with the effort of heaving the two queen-sized mattresses through the narrow doorway, one after the other. After that, he gathered as many blankets and pillows as he could find. It all proved to be a tight fit, which was no bad thing. ‘We’re stopping here after all.’

‘Be careful with my mattress. It’s almost new,’ Joanne complained. ‘And it’ll be too hot. We could suffocate in there.’

Ignoring her string of complaints, Ryan grabbed some bottles of water, packets of biscuits and the bags that had been packed to go to the Evacuation Centre. He had boiled a kettle earlier and filled a thermos flask with hot tea. Also he checked the strongest flashlight and located some spare batteries. The electricity could be off for some time.

‘Right. That ought to see us through in the short term.’ He smiled brightly at his mother to reassure her. ‘In you go then,
with Tinka. We’ll be nice and snug.’

‘I don’t want to. It’ll be awfully cramped and I won’t be able to breathe,’ Joanne grumbled as she stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching as Ryan bolted the back door. ‘And I still think we should wait for your father.’

‘Mum, will you stop it?’ Finally Ryan’s nerve snapped. ‘Stop torturing yourself and me. Get it through your head that Dad’s not coming back. He died months ago.’

‘What a wicked thing to say!’ Before he realized what she would do, she stepped forward and slapped him across the face with the full force of her arm behind it. ‘You know where he is. Away at the show. Getting new equipment for the farm.’

‘The show?’ Ryan massaged his flaming cheek. ‘You think so, really? At this time of year?’

At last the meaning of his words sank in and she clasped both hands to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. Being forced to remember the truth knocked all the fight out of her and she allowed Ryan to push her into the bathroom and make her comfortable on a beanbag with the mattress tucked around and over her, Tinka at her feet. ‘Oh, my poor Peter,’ she murmured through trembling lips. ‘How could I forget?’

‘It’s OK, Mum.’ Ryan hugged her, feeling mean for forcing her to remember when he knew how emotionally fragile she was. But he was scared, too, and his patience had been tried to the limit. ‘We’ll be all right. We just have to get through tonight.’

Already the wind was howling through the trees, ripping off branches and shredding the leaves. There was a lot of banging outside as anything not tied down out of doors was getting blown around. It sounded as if a giant had lost his
temper out there. The rain clattered on the tin roof, making it impossible to speak, which was no bad thing. Ryan pulled the mattresses closer as the wind screamed around the house like an angry demon. He couldn’t be sure how long it went on but it felt like forever until, just as suddenly as it had started, all the noise stopped, followed by an equally eerie silence.

‘There, what did I tell you?’ Joanne gave a nervous giggle as she pushed the mattress aside and struggled to her feet. ‘It’s over, thank God, and the house still standing. I must let Tinka out, she’ll want to pee.’

‘Mum, wait, the storm’s not over yet. It’s only quiet because we’re in the eye.’

But she was already urging the little dog towards the back door. She drew back the bolt and opened it before Ryan could stop her. He expected it to be torn from its hinges and his mother whirled aside by the force of the storm. Instead, all was quiet and still out there.

Tinka rushed outside and squatted quickly. She understood that she shouldn’t waste time. She finished what she needed to do and ran back to Ryan, tongue lolling. Absent-mindedly, he patted her.

But Joanne was in no hurry to come in and remained staring up at the sky in wonderment, arms outstretched. ‘Oh, Ryan, do look at the sky, how clear the night is. I’ve never seen so many stars. It’s as if you can look right through them all to see God in his heaven.’

‘Mum, please come back inside. The storm isn’t over yet.’

‘Don’t be such an old woman, Ryan. You worry too much. It’s just as I said – a big ole fuss about nothing. People give in to panic too easily.’

Ryan thought this a bit rich, coming from a woman who had a screaming fit if she saw a big spider, but said nothing, relieved to draw her back into the house.

The wind was already building from another direction this time and it wasn’t long before the storm was raging again, ten times worse than before. The wind screamed around them, venting its fury with a sound like several freight trains on a collision course. Then there was a loud noise like a bomb going off as if some flying debris had punched a hole in the other side of the house. Joanne was crying in earnest now, finally believing that they were in serious trouble.

‘What are we to do? We’ll be killed,’ she wailed, clasping Tinka to her bosom as the little dog whimpered, her whole body trembling with fear.

‘Stay put. We’re as safe in here as we’d be anywhere.’ Ryan wanted to sound calm and reassuring but he wasn’t sure Joanne could hear him over the fury of the cyclone. He was beginning to think the house might be torn from its stumps, leaving them vulnerable to the intensity of the storm. Exposed to the elements, they would face certain death.

Finally, although it was still pouring with rain, the winds gradually dropped and, against all odds, Joanne fell asleep. In the early hours of the morning, Ryan switched on the radio in the hope of hearing some news. It took a while to come through, none of it good. Throughout the district, there had been massive damage to property and all the banana plantations and cane fields were laid waste. Farmers would have to start all over again. Miraculously, so far there was no news that anyone had been killed. Although there were strict instructions coming through on the radio that no one
should venture out of doors, Joanne refused to stay put in the bathroom and, when it had been quiet for some time, they both went outside to assess the damage to the house. Even before seeing the full extent of it, Ryan knew they wouldn’t be able to live there as it was.

Great holes had been punched in the far side and half the roof had been torn away. Sheets of corrugated iron lay scattered all over the yard and what had once been Ryan’s vegetable garden was drowning in rain and mud. Their livelihood was no more. The shed that had housed the chickens had completely disappeared, along with the occupants; just a few feathers remained.

‘Mum! Come back to the house!’ Ryan called from the doorway, trying to stop her, but she was already running towards the empty space, her fist in her mouth.

‘My little friends! Who has stolen our chickens? Where have they gone?’

There weren’t many big trees on the property. Some time ago when things were tight, Peter had sold a big cedar to a furniture maker, leaving just a few eucalypts, not known for their stability at the best of times. One was already down, the roots torn from the ground, and Joanne was standing quite close to the other one.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack like a big gun going off and a huge branch fell, giving Ryan no time to shout a warning. He could only stare as it settled over the spot where Joanne had been standing just a moment before. For a moment or so, like a fool, he wondered where she’d gone. It was only when Tinka raised her head and started to howl that he realized she had been crushed underneath it. She wouldn’t
have known what hit her. Blood was already starting to pool, mingling with the rain and mud on the ground. And, even before he screwed up the courage to take a closer look, he knew there was no possibility his mother could have survived.