Carrier (16 page)

‘Better?'

I nodded, tossing my stinking clothes into the basket, glad to be rid of them for now. But I'd make sure I wore them when I left this place.

‘Good. The boys call me Boss. But you can call me Luke. What's your name?' He offered a large, hairy hand.

‘Lena,' I said, staring at the hand.

He withdrew it and laughed.

‘Nice name.' His face turned serious. ‘Your parents' still alive?'

I hesitated. If I told him about Mum, they might try and hunt her down, capture her, too.

‘Both dead,' I answered, trying to maintain steady eye contact and resisting the urge to scratch my nose — a dead giveaway to lying. I'd read about it in one of Dad's books.

‘Good. I'd like you to think of these army barracks as your new home.'

I wanted to ask what had happened to his wife but realised I didn't want to know, in case it was something horrible. My face must have twisted up at the thought, because Luke sighed.

‘Look, you're safe here, Lena. Nobody is gonna to touch you because you're gonna be living here with me and be a part of my family, my immediate family, okay?' He disappeared back into the bathroom, where I heard the sound of the basin cabinet opening and shutting, before emerging with a jar of ointment. He seized my hand and pressed the jar into my palm. ‘This will help ease the rope burn.' Then, with a wave of a hand, he beckoned for me to follow him down the hallway.

‘Thanks,' I mumbled, remembering that he'd mentioned the kids earlier. Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. Surely he didn't want me to replace his wife? He looked old enough to be my father, or even grandfather. I shuddered, but shook it off before following him through the house and into the kitchen area, where the smell of delicious food had me trembling with hunger.

Luke nodded to a muscular, golden-skinned Asian man who wore an apron with a woman's bikini-clad body printed on it. The man looked at me when I entered, smiling wide and nodding his head slowly. But as his dark brown eyes drank me in from head toe, his smile turned apologetic, as though my appearance warranted sympathy.

‘Hey, kid,' he said, adjusting his apron strings. ‘Welcome to Streak's Kitchen.'

I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off.

‘Lena here needs fattening up,' said Luke. ‘Make sure she gets a good feed.'

A plate of fried eggs — chicken eggs by the looks of them, glistening with oil, the yolks a pale, almost iridescent yellow — rested upon the wooden table. A hunk of damper-like bread leant against the edge of the plate.

My dry mouth began to salivate. Something brown and meaty was stewing in another pot, a rich and earthy scent I couldn't quite place.

‘Have a seat and tuck in, Lena,' the boss ordered and I practically threw myself into the chair before snatching up the cutlery and digging in.

I swallowed the eggs whole, one by one, closing my eyes when the yolks burst against the roof of my mouth in a warm, creamy gush.

Streak spooned the brown stew onto my plate and I loaded my fork before shovelling the food into my mouth. It was hot, the texture soft and silky, definitely not meat, but it was the most delicious thing I'd ever eaten and I hurriedly scoffed up the rest.

‘Christ, she's eating like a pig.' The cook laughed. ‘You like my herby mushrooms, hey?'

The tasty mushrooms crammed into my mouth preventing me from answering politely, so I nodded instead. When the plate was clean, I placed my knife and fork in the centre, my cheeks heating up with embarrassment at eating under such scrutiny.

‘Here, have a drink so you don't choke.' Streak, who wore an amused grin, slid a glass of water my way, a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

‘Thanks,' I muttered through a mouthful of seedy bread, and promptly swallowed several gulps of the cool, refreshing water until the glass was half full and the large lump of food slid down my throat. I set the drink back on the table with a clank. Scraping my chair back, I collected my plate, cutlery and glass and took it to the counter by the sink.

‘Thank you,' I said, looking at Streak and then at Luke. ‘That was delicious.'

‘I thought you said you were an orphan?' Luke asked, his blue eyes narrowing.

‘I am.' What had I said? My cheeks prickled with heat and I resisted the urge to scratch my itchy nose.

‘Manners like that come from a good upbringing,' said Luke.

Shit…

‘They um…they died a couple of years ago.'

Streak smiled a sad, upside down smile, but when I met his gaze he winked.

‘Don't knock the manners, Lukey boy. She might not be so polite next time.'

Luke ignored Streak's comments and continued to stare at me for a few seconds longer before he wrapped his knuckles against the table and stood up.

‘Go and get some sleep, Streak. Your ugly mug needs some friggin' beauty sleep.'

The cook gave a careless shrug. ‘In that case, you'll need about a century of rest.'

I glanced up at Streak and he winked again. ‘You won't believe he fathered such cute kids, seriously.'

‘Get out of here,' said Luke with a flick of his head.

Streak grinned and disappeared down the hallway and out the front door, the screen smacking shut behind him.

‘How many kids do you have?' I asked Luke, who was filling the sink with water and soap.

‘Two.' He said, the cutlery noisily scraping against the bottom of the sink while he washed the dishes. ‘You're going to be their teacher, or governess, if you like.'

What?

I shook my head. No. I wasn't going to bring up somebody else's kids, not when Patrick's brother's needed us. More importantly, I wasn't
staying
here. Full. Stop.

‘I don't know anything. I'm not a teacher. I…' My words stuttered out while I struggled for reasons why I couldn't stay and ‘teach' his kids. ‘I only know from books.'

‘Even better,' he said, as though my words had impressed him. He stacked a plate on the dish rack. ‘You can teach the kids to read.'

‘But I don't know anything about kids. Really, I don't.' I rested my elbows against the countertop and rested my head in my hands. Hot blood coursed through my veins. A thumping headache seemed to have come out of nowhere.

None of this seemed real. From being hunted down by a motor vehicle to having my first shower and then eating eggs and mushrooms. I wanted to take a step back in time and be with Patrick again, walking the trail to his house. I hadn't left my mum and the confines of Desert Downs to become some stranger's children's
governess.

‘This is a mistake. You've got to let me and Patrick go!'

He dried his wet hands with a faded blue chequered tea towel, refusing to meet my gaze.

‘This is deprivation of liberty.' It was hard not to scream and yell that Patrick's brothers were out there waiting for us, starving to death. But I had to keep my mouth shut for their safety. Who knew what these men would do to the boys? They'd already locked Patrick inside a dark shed with God knows who or what. The very idea of someone like Barry finding the boys twisted my gut and rattled my heart with fear. Hopefully the eldest, James, had found the dried meat stash that Patrick had mentioned, and hopefully it was enough to keep them going until we escaped from this place.

‘If you've finished up, I'll take you to your bedroom.'

My hands gripped the table. The idea of being taken to a room and possibly being locked up terrified me. I'd had enough of being hidden away my whole life. I wanted to be back outside with Patrick, hunting for rabbits in the bush, where for the first time in my life I had felt true freedom.

‘It's okay. Remember, I'm going to treat you like family member from now on, and as long as you don't cross me, that'll be a promise.'

‘Family's don't keep each other prisoner,' I blurted out, but then realised that what I had just said was rubbish. Mum had kept me locked up for sixteen and a half years. Perhaps this man was no better or worse.

‘You'll see come morning that this is probably a better life than whatever one you had with that boy, running about starving. Is he your brother? Do you have any other siblings? We wouldn't want to leave anybody starving.' His blue eyes pierced my own as though he could read my mind.

I shifted my eyes and stared at the countertop. ‘He's not my brother. He's my friend. We're both orphans.'

‘Don't lie to me,' Luke snapped, slamming his hand against the aluminium sink and sending a plate shattering against the tiled floor.

‘Bugger!' He bent down and started to collect the largest pieces of broken china. Bent over like this, his arse exposed, I could probably race around the counter, give him a shove with my foot and run for it. But where would I go? Even if I reached Patrick's shed without being caught, he was probably in no state to run yet, with that gash to his head.

‘Daddy?'

I spun around to see a little girl and boy dressed identically in striped flannelette pyjamas emerge from the hallway, rubbing their eyes and yawning simultaneously.

The boy had dark hair that curled in every which way around his head. His large blue eyes widened and he clutched his ratty brown bear tighter to his little chest while he watched me. The girl stood an inch taller than the boy.

They shared similar features — the same eyes and hair, though the little girl's hair was much longer, spilling down to her tiny waist and her eyes watched me with open curiosity, and maybe hostility, rather than fear. The children were small. I took a wild guess at their age: five, maybe six years old.

‘Bugger,' Luke said again, with a heavy sigh. He glared at me, silently admonishing me for waking his children, as though I'd asked him to bang his fist against the sink and break a plate.

I glared back before turning to face the kids. Though cute in their own way, they weren't the kids I'd planned on seeing tonight. It was Patrick's little brothers who I had wanted to meet, not this stranger's children.

‘I was going to introduce you in the morning after you'd gotten some rest and I had a chance to explain you to the kids, but...'

He paused and knelt down before the two kids. ‘Petra,' he said, cupping her small, heart-shaped face, ‘…and Sammy,' he said to the boy, gently mussing his hair, ‘… meet our new friend, Lena. She's going to be your teacher.'

The boy, Sammy, gazed up at me with fright. It hurt to be looked at like that, like I was something scary, so I mustered up a small smile.

‘That's not a real girl, it's a boy!' cried the little girl in a tiny, bird-like voice, tears springing to her shiny blue eyes. The boy frowned and his chin began to quiver in a way that pinched at my heart.

‘She's a boy!' he howled, shuffling in close to his sister like I was some kind of monster.

Though I wanted to scowl at them for their boy comments, deep down my heart twisted for these little kids, for living in a world like this, without a mother and with only these rough-edged men around. So, despite my initial reservations, I crouched down to their level and smiled warmly, running my hand through my hair.

‘It's really short now, but I'm growing it.' Alice briefly danced inside my mind. Her long hair swinging as she danced around and around in circles. ‘I want it down to here.' I smiled at Petra, and ran a hand across the lower part of my back. ‘Like my cousin used to have and like you have.'

The girl's pinched up face seemed to relax a little now that she knew I hoped to grow my hair long like a ‘real girl'.

‘What's a cousin?' Petra asked, before shooting a timid glance in their father's direction.

He stifled a yawn and shrugged, blue eyes blinking with tiredness. ‘May as well start the lessons now, I suppose.'

I threw him a frosty look and turned back to the children. ‘A cousin is the child of your father or mother's brother or sister.'

They both stared at me with narrow eyes and sceptical, thin-lined mouths, as if they didn't believe all this cousin talk, or maybe it was too difficult for them to imagine having extended family in this bleak world. Within seconds their eyes returned to my cropped hair and they shuddered in unison.

I sighed and stood up, turning my back to the kids.

‘They don't like me,' I whispered. ‘I'm not a teacher so you need to send me back out there and get a new one.'

Luke's mouth set in a grim line, but it softened when he addressed his children.

‘Excuse us, kiddies, hop into bed and Lena will come read you a story in a minute.'

The little boy howled again — at the idea of me reading him a story. Real tears glistened at the corners of his eyes while his protective sister clasped his tiny hand in hers and ushered him down the hallway.

A lump formed in my throat, to see Petra mother her brother like that. She was only a child, a tiny child at that, and here she was doing her best against what life had thrown her. A sudden rush of maternal instinct urged me to sweep those kids up into my arms and keep them safe from the world.

As I watched them disappear into the softly lit hallway, I thought about the baby birds, and Emma.

‘Can you find out about my dingo, Emma, and the birds in my pack?'

Luke whistled a long sigh through his teeth and scratched his beard.

‘The birds are dead. Laurie removed them. The pack's in your room. He's tending to your dingo as we speak. She might lose a leg, but she'll be alright. Laurie used to be a vet. She's in good hands.'

I nodded, relieved to hear that Emma would live.

‘Can I see her now, and Patrick, just quickly?'

He eyed me, warily, before nodding. ‘Shouldn't be a problem,
tomorrow
. Right now you need to get some sleep.'

‘Okay.' There was no use fighting. I understood already that my only chance of leaving this place was through getting to know the area, and maybe earning trust. My gut told me Luke would keep his word. And anyway, tomorrow was only hours away. I could handle the wait.