An Ordinary Epidemic (16 page)

‘You can't expect us to eat with masks on. So what are we supposed to do?'

‘Take your sandwiches over to the next tree. You can take off the mask and gloves there.'

‘I bet you made the sandwiches, didn't you. So they have your germs, so that would be really dumb.' Zac rolled his eyes at her. ‘What's the point of the stupid masks, if we're going to eat the germs anyway?'

Hannah was sideswiped by the thought. She didn't have ready-made answer, only a synthesis of snippets she had read. ‘Eating germs is not the same as breathing them or rubbing them in your eyes. I don't think you can catch this germ from eating it.' She rummaged through the bag for anything in packets. ‘Here you go. Hygienically sealed in a factory.'

‘Muesli bars? Muesli bars aren't lunch. And the masks are still stupid.'

‘There are cheese snacks in here too. Don't take the gloves off and don't touch the food before it goes in your mouth, hold it with the wrapper.'

‘Dad, she's mad.'

‘Yes she is. Do as she says.'

In the car, Zac and Daniel kept up a joint monologue, reliving the school trip in shared cryptic three quarter sentences. ‘And then he', ‘but Simon wanted to', laughter. Oscar tried to join in by retelling the bits of stories that he thought he understood but Zac would cut in halfway through. ‘You weren't there, Oscar, you don't know what happened.' And each time, Oscar would hug his wounded silence to himself for five or
ten minutes until his infatuation for the older boys overcame him.

Hannah let it all wash around her, concentrated on the driving and the mostly empty road in front of her. Even Zac's snarkiness made her happy to have him back. Their only stop was for a toilet break at Zac's request. Oscar took to the trees with enthusiasm, proud to show his brother that he was an expert at peeing by the side of the road. Zac wrinkled his nose and declared he'd hold on but Daniel sheepishly admitted that he needed to go. Hannah took the break to stretch her legs behind the car. She listened in to the exchange between Sean and Zac in the al fresco men's room.

‘We're not going to stop again, so if you hold on, you're holding on for two hours.'

‘I don't need to go.'

‘You asked to stop. I mean it, we're not stopping again and if you think we'll give in and stop at a proper toilet, you're wrong.'

When Daniel came back, Zac stomped up to the trees, engulfed in a cloud of resentment. Hannah accidentally glanced over and whipped her eyes away again but all she'd seen was Zac struggling to work out how to juggle the gloves and the hand wash.

The open road—they had made it, they'd escaped. Hannah relaxed her grip on the wheel, turned on the radio and twiddled the dial until she found a classic hits station. The sounds of the seventies, the seventies and the seventies from what she could hear. She kept her eyes on the road but out of the corner of her eye she could see Sean doing disco moves to stadium rock. He took a bow to the back seat. As the next song started, they made sideways eye contact, it was a gift, and in unison broke into ‘We Are the Champions'.

Daniel's facemask looked blankly at Hannah in the rear view mirror but Zac had thrown himself back in his seat. ‘Stop
the car, I want to kill myself.'

Sean and Hannah launched into the second chorus with gusto. The music faded leaving them singing
a cappella
, much too loud and slightly out of tune. Under their harmonies, an almost robotic voice rose from the radio, soporific in its disjointed statements. ‘...prepare to stop. The road ahead is closed. Follow all instructions given. Prepare to stop. This is an announcement by...' Sean flicked it off. ‘Not champions yet.' He put his hand over hers on the gear stick. ‘We were fine this morning, we'll be fine now. At least we're all together.'

The spot where they had been turned around that morning came slowly into view, visible each time the hills rose and fell. It seemed different from this direction, more organised, more structured. It was surprising how solid a temporary barrier could look.

The important thing was to behave normally, which shouldn't be hard, they hadn't really done anything wrong. But even the act of thinking about looking innocent made her feel guilty. They hadn't put anyone in danger, except the farmer and he knew they'd come from Sydney and still got in the car of his own accord. And it's not as if they had broken through the barrier, they had just taken another route. But still, she felt her cheeks burn.

A man with a light baton waved them to the side of the road. She slowed into the line of cars waiting to be processed. A handful of police walked from car to car, poking their heads into the driver's window. After a brief conversation, the car would peel off from the line leaving a gap, and the police would move on to the next car. As the police moved between cars, they called out to each other, ‘You taking a break now?' or ‘Save some coffee for me.' They didn't look back to see where the drivers they had spoken to went.

While Hannah waited to move forward, she watched the road ahead. On both sides, police vehicles obstructed the road
before and after the emergency U-turn bay they had used this morning. When a small line of cars had gathered, the police in the two nearer vehicles would move them, leaving a clear path to the other half of the divided freeway, back to Canberra. Once they were through, the police vehicles moved back into place and cars at the other roadblock got their chance to turn back to Sydney. She wondered if anyone else had found their cross-country route and whether it had been barricaded off.

The far roadblock looked very different from the makeshift checkpoint of the morning. The witches hats had been replaced with an unbroken line of large orange and white plastic barriers. The four casual police from this morning were now a patrol, efficient and coordinated. And although the two police lounging against the vehicle blocking the road looked bored, there was also a watchfulness under their feigned indifference as the Sydney traffic took the turn. As the last car reached the bay, a small white hatchback swerved out of the waiting line and roared towards the two police. One touched his gun, the other waved his arms and yelled at the car as it spun into the turn, disappearing in a cloud of dust. Hannah heard the detuned rev of its engine and when the dust cleared, it was several cars away, weaving in and out of the traffic.

Sean bumped her on the elbow. She hadn't noticed that the line in front of her had cleared. In her haste to bring no attention to herself she clashed the gears and lurched forward.

She turned to Sean. ‘Am I flushed?'

‘No.'

‘I don't look red?'

‘Stop talking, here he comes.'

She rolled down her window while the policeman was still several metres off, a little too eager. But not rolling it down might look aggressive. It was down now, she couldn't change that. And they wouldn't care, would they? Best to just say nothing and speak when spoken to. If she took the lead, she
was afraid she'd blurt out something incriminating.

‘How's it going?' He was young and walked awkwardly, as if the weight on his belt threw him off balance.

‘Fine. It's fine.'

‘Where are you coming from today?'

‘We've come from Canberra.'

He nodded at her.

‘We're heading home. We met my son and his friend there, they had a school camp.' Shut up, shut up, before he asks you when.

He looked them over with less interest than she expected. ‘Are your boys sick?' He motioned to the masks.

‘No. No, not at all. No one's sick. It's just a precaution in the car. We've been trying to keep the kids apart, you know, little kids are germ factories. But he's fine, too. It's just...' She trailed off. ‘You know kids.' But at his age, he probably didn't.

He leant his head in a bit more and talked to Zac. ‘Hey mate, say something to me.'

‘Like what?' Zac was muffled by the mask.

The cop seemed satisfied and turned back to her. ‘So are you from Sydney?'

Don't volunteer anything. ‘Yes.' She willed him not ask when they left. Her brain went blank. Just when she needed a believable lie, nothing came.

‘We're advising people to stay out of Sydney. I can give you a bit of time to think about it, if you like. Pull over to the side to clear the line.'

‘We want to go home.' Sean said firmly.

‘Your funeral.' The policeman looked sobered by the inappropriateness of his comment.

He waved to the police car parked at the side of the road beyond the turn bay, who waved back. ‘See him?' He leant down to Hannah. ‘That's Mick. Talk to him, he'll let you through.'
Mick was older, moved more slowly and with more assurance. ‘Now then, you're not thinking of going on are you?'

‘We have to get to Sydney.'

‘Why would you want to do that? You got kids in there and all.'

Sean broke in, a bit too emphatically. ‘We're going home. Our home's in Sydney, that's where we're going.'

‘Yes,' Hannah tried to smooth over Sean's stuttering, ‘we're trying to get home.'

‘You'd be best off returning to wherever you came from. Were you staying with friends?'

‘No.'

‘You might get back into your hotel. We can give you something to say you never left the zone.'

She collected up her courage for one throw. ‘We'd like to go back home. If there's any way, we'd like to go back home.'

‘I won't stop you, but once you go in, you won't be coming back out until it's all over.' Mick looked over at Sean then shrugged. He handed them a sheaf of Health Department pamphlets. ‘Keep your little ones safe.'

‘We will.' Hannah gave a genuine smile, the first emotion she'd allowed onto her face since they'd reached the roadblock.

The boys in the back were quieter now, even Oscar was staring out the window. On the long straights, she could just make out another car in her rear vision mirror. A wave of tiredness crashed over her as the adrenaline drained away. They had the boys, they'd made it through the roadblock, everything was done. Getting home was a formality.

‘Hey.'

Hannah jumped. ‘What did I do?'

Sean smiled at her. ‘Maybe I should drive the rest of the way.'

‘It's not far. There are no cars.'

‘We did it.' He gestured his head to the back seat. ‘We got a full house.'

They were ten minutes from home.

‘You'd better pull in so we can fill up again.' Sean waved his hand in the general direction of the petrol station.

‘We're not stopping again.'

‘Be serious, we've got less than a quarter of a tank.'

‘We'll make it home. Too many risks today, no more.'

‘And next time we need to take the car out? When it's worse?'

‘I said no.'

Sean looked thunderous but said nothing.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway, the boys bundled out of the car and bounced around the small paved front yard.

‘Zac, Daniel.' Hannah was still summoning the energy to haul herself out of the car. ‘You're going to have to stay in your room for the next two days.'

Zac's eyes were a mixture of outrage and dismay. ‘What if we need to go to the toilet?'

She sighed. ‘Then you can go to the bathroom, of course. But that's all, and definitely no playing with Oscar.'

Zac pulled a face at Daniel, although the effect was hidden by his mask. ‘As if.'

Sean held the door as the two boys ran through, Oscar chasing them. He bent behind the low wall of the verandah. ‘Home delivery.'

She hadn't noticed that the note was gone. He took two bags, she took the last one and the cold pack. ‘I need a coffee. And you can have real milk.' She smiled at him.

‘I bet you wish you'd let me buy the espresso machine. Fully automatic, beans in the top, touch one button, a perfect cafe cappuccino out the bottom.'

She lingered on the step. The last light of the day was golden on the rooftops. In his front yard, Mr Henderson rested against his fence, chatting to Gwen. He lazily raised a hand to her without breaking his conversation and Gwen looked around and gave her a smile and a wave. Gwen should know better, she should know to stay indoors. And Hannah could only imagine where else Gwen went. Just as well they hadn't left Oscar with her, she'd have had him gallivanting all over the suburb. Hannah ducked inside before Gwen could come over and talk to her.