The Road to Winter (5 page)

‘Ramage used to run the feedstore in Longley. Stan knew him, trusted him, but he was one of those guys you always thought was watching you, especially the girls. He was a creep.'

She pinches her bottom lip between her teeth, weighing me up.

‘That was Ramage, the one on the trailbike yesterday.'

I remember the man yelling across the river mouth.

‘What was the name he was calling?'

‘Warda,' she says. ‘That's my Siley name. Ramage always used it. It's Pashto. It means Rose.'

‘What happened after they arrived at the farm?' I ask.

Rose sits back in her chair and crosses her arms.

‘I got the rifle, loaded it quietly and climbed back up. I could hear Beth's voice. She was standing on the back porch with a rifle in her hands. The men were about twenty metres away from her.

‘Ramage did all the talking, saying, “You here all on your own, Mrs Morgan, or you got them pretty Sileys of yours hidin' somewhere?”

‘Beth raised the rifle higher and said, “Where's my husband?”

‘Ramage said Stan had sent them out here to pick us up. That he'd had an accident in town. Broken his arm.

‘I could see Beth didn't believe him. So she says, “Maybe I'll keep the ute and you two can walk back into town. Since it's my husband's.”

‘From behind I saw Rat looking like he was slouching back into the seat of the ute. But through the open driver's side door I saw him slipping a hand down to pick up something off the floor.

‘Now Ramage was moving towards Beth. “Come on,” he says, “let's put that gun away and talk sensible, you and me. Things are different now. We need to look after each other, those of us that's left.”

‘Rat had picked up a metal wheel brace and was sliding it into the belt at the back of his pants, real slow. He stood up and started circling around to Beth's side.

‘Ramage was still talking, all confident now. “Come on Mrs Morgan,” he says. “You can't shoot us both. Why don't you put that gun down and we'll all go inside and have a nice cup of tea.”

‘I was so nervous and sweaty I could hardly hold the rifle. But I stood up and opened the door we used to winch the bales through. I braced my feet on the ledge and got Rat in the sights. I don't even know if I meant to squeeze the trigger but suddenly there was a loud bang and Rat collapsed on the ground screaming and grabbing at his leg. At the same time Beth pointed her rifle straight at Ramage, who was looking over at Rat and trying to figure out what had happened.

‘“Get off my fucking land,” Beth yelled. She never swore. Never.

‘She had her rifle pointed at his head now and she said, “Get your mate into the back of the ute. Now!”

‘Rat was rolling around on the ground, screaming. I wanted to shoot him again, just to shut him up. But Ramage dragged him to the side of the ute and rolled him into the back. Then Beth called out to me.

‘I stood up in the doorway so Ramage could see me pointing the rifle at him. Beth called to Kas to get the cable ties from the shed.

‘Then Beth tied one around Ramage's wrists and pushed him down so he was lying next to Rat. There was all this
blood in the bottom of the tray.

“I'll be back for you girls,” Ramage screamed as Beth was about to climb in the ute. “I know where you are. You can't hide. There'll be more of us next time. We already got the old man.”

Rose smiles and shakes her head.

‘But then, I'll never forget it: Beth jammed the barrel of the rifle in his mouth. I'd seen her angry before, but nothing like this. It was like something inside her had snapped.

‘“You come near my girls,” she said, “and I will kill you. You understand, you fucking creep. I will kill you.”

‘I'm pretty sure I heard his teeth break when she snapped the barrel out of his mouth and got back in the driver's seat. He was bawling now, saying all sorts of dirty things. Things he'd do to Kas and me.

‘After Beth took off down the drive it was quiet. Kas and I stood looking at each other. I reckon we both knew nothing was ever going to be normal again.'

‘And Beth?' I ask.

Rose takes her time to answer. She shifts in her chair and when she speaks her voice breaks.

‘She never came back.'

The light is coming right into the kitchen now and my stomach is rumbling.

‘We need to eat,' I say.

I have to make a decision. I always thought if it came to this, if someone else showed up, I'd have plenty of time to watch them before I made contact. Check them out. Decide if I wanted them to see me. But here's Rose right in front of me and I'm trying to think on my feet. The funny thing is, even though she's wary, I'm okay with her being here. I can't explain why exactly. Something about the way she looks, the way she talks. She's no threat.

‘Come with me,' I say.

I ease the back door open and have a good look about. Rowdy slips by my leg for a stretch on the porch.

Rose stands in the doorway. A small shudder passes through her body. Her legs are thin where the shorts fall to her thighs and her feet are bare. She lifts her face to the sun and shades her eyes with her injured hand.

Leading her around the side of the house, I duck through a gap in the old cypress hedge to the garage next door, then pull the branches back and feel under the ledge for the key. I open the door and tell her to follow. It's dark inside, but slowly our eyes adjust.

She stops in the doorway and stares. The garage is lined with shelves full of all sorts of stuff—tinned food, gas bottles, tools, saws, candles, matches, rabbit traps, ropes and nets.

‘Wow,' she says. ‘Where did you get all this?'

‘When things got bad down here, me and Dad started to plan this place. All the shops were cleaned out early on, but we figured there'd be plenty of valuable stuff in the holiday houses.'

‘So this is your house, your garage?' she says.

‘No. Dad knew everyone left in town would know he owned the hardware and that they'd come to our place before too long. We picked this garage because it looked like it hadn't been used in years and the place next door because it was a holiday house hidden away at the back of the block.'

‘Gas,' Rose murmurs, looking at the big cylinders lined up along one wall.

‘First thing Dad thought of. He'd just got a big delivery
at the hardware when the town was quarantined.'

‘So you can cook food?'

‘And run the fridge.'

‘Your dad was smart,' she says. She stops then, but I know what she's going to ask.

‘He died early on.' I haven't said this out aloud before, that my dad's dead, that I'll never see him again.

‘Did you have a mum?'

‘She lasted the first winter, but then the virus took her.'

‘I'm sorry,' she says.

I start rearranging some tins of beans on a shelf, trying to look busy. It's easier to bury things when you don't have to talk about them with anyone.

‘Anyway,' I say, ‘let's get some breakfast.'

After I've grabbed a couple of cans of beans, I walk back out into the light. Rose follows, but she's looking over her shoulder into the shed like she can't believe what she's seen. I lock up, put the branches back and hide the key.

Back in the kitchen I get started on cooking. I remember I have two eggs in the fridge. There are chooks that have gone wild and a while ago I found their nest.

‘Eggs,' she says with excitement in her voice again.

She takes one of them from my hand and sits it in the flat of her palm, still with a look of disbelief on her face at what I've shown her.

I light a match and the stove hisses to life. Before I can put the pan on it, Rose comes over and holds her hands above the flame.

I cook up the eggs and the beans, frying them until they're
just right. When I turn around, Rose has set the table with knives and forks laid out and a glass of water at each place.

‘I just had to do that,' she says.

‘No worries,' I say.

‘Nowrriz,' she says, deep and low, and I realise that's what I sound like to her.

We eat in not-quite silence. I remember how she ate the rabbit last night and that she probably spewed most of that up on the garden. She finishes hers before I'm even halfway through mine, wipes her mouth with the back of her good hand then picks up the plate and licks it clean. She burps loudly.

‘Sorry,' she says. ‘Beth never allowed us to do that.'

I try to muster a burp of my own but fail miserably.

She laughs, her eyes softening for a few seconds, but then her face grows serious.

‘What do we do now, Finn?'

‘Well, first I have to go and check my traps. I set them yesterday morning. I don't want to leave them any longer.'

‘Traps?'

‘For rabbits. That's what you ate last night. Most of it's on the garden now I reckon.'

She smiles.

As I get ready to go out, I have a churning feeling in my gut. I hardly know this girl and I'm leaving her with everything I have. The house, my food, the stores. Everything. But I can't see any way around it right now. She's seen it all already and
she could probably find her way back here if she needed to. Or lead someone else back.

Before I leave I bring out the bow and arrows from my room.

‘You know how to use these?' I ask, handing them to her.

‘Kinda. Aim and shoot, yeah?'

‘Close enough. I'll be a couple of hours. I'll give you a whistle like this when I get back,' I say, making a noise like a wattle-bird, ‘Don't come out unless you hear it.'

I'm extra cautious today, taking the long way around behind the golf club to get to the ridge. Rowdy sticks close. At the top of the ridge I stop and scan the town below, but there's no sign of movement, nothing to put my nerves more on edge.

I've laid the traps along the old fence line that marks the start of the farmland. Today's a good day. I get three. I stretch their necks quickly and tie some twine around their back legs. Then I reset the traps.

As I'm heading back down into the cover of the bush, something catches my eye; something glinting in the sun across the paddock in an old hayshed.

I duck down and watch, thinking it's just a tin or a bit of glass catching the light. Then it moves.

I place my hand over Rowdy's muzzle. He knows what this means and drops his belly to the ground. I'm too low down to make out what it is so I crawl along to a low-slung stringybark and shimmy up into the branches. I'm holding my breath, but I can feel my heart pounding against the bark of the tree.

There are at least half-a-dozen men sitting around a fire. Up
higher, I catch the smell of meat cooking. I'm not sure they're the Wilders that chased us yesterday until I see the trailbike catching the morning sun. There are blankets strewn across the hay bales and I can see two large red containers.

At least I know where Ramage is now and that he's not back in town hunting for Rose. But he could be getting ready to try again too. I'll have to come back up later in the afternoon and check on them.

I drop quietly down out of the tree, gather up the rabbits, touch Rowdy on his collar and we back away into the scrub.

I've been gone a couple of hours by the time I get back to the house. I whistle to Rose and her head bobs up at the kitchen window.

‘All good?' I ask as I come through the door. When I see her I stop in my tracks.

‘I hope it's all right,' she says.

She has washed. I can smell soap. Her hair is still wet and dripping a little on her shoulders. Her skin is scrubbed almost raw and a few of the smaller cuts are bleeding. A new white bandage covers the wound on the back of her hand. But that's not what I'm looking at. She is wearing Mum's clothes, a blue dress that comes down just below her knees, a big floppy jumper and a pair of sneakers. Her hands are by her sides, clutching the material tight in her fingers.

‘I can take them off.'

‘No, it's okay. It's just…'

‘They were your mum's.'

I nod. ‘She liked that dress. Dad always said it suited her. Matched her eyes, or something. I never noticed.'

Different parts of my world are colliding, parts that have no right to meet. There's some stuff that I've buried so deep that I never thought I'd face it again. Mum wearing that dress is one of them.

‘I'll take it off, Finn. I'm sorry. I never should have put it on.'

She starts to walk out of the kitchen. I don't know why it happens or even how, but the next thing I know I'm standing behind her and I've got my hand on her shoulder.

‘Rose,' I say, and she turns around to look at me because it's the first time I've called her by her name. ‘Please, it's okay. I like it.'

Neither of us knows what to say next, so I pick up the rabbits and take them out the back to the wooden bench under the cypress tree. I slit the first one behind the neck and peel the skin all the way back to the hind legs. Then I gut it. I open up the cavity a bit more with the knife and make sure it's cleaned out. It feels good to be doing something without having to think about it.