Floundering (11 page)

Shit. Shit, he says. I stand up. Through the screen door I can see the glow from Nev’s caravan, the lights still on. I wonder if he could hear us if we called out? There isn’t enough room
for Jordy, me and the gummy. I sit back down. Jordy opens the cupboard. He finds an old bit of newspaper and lays it on top of the gummy, tucking the newspaper around it.

There, he says. But its bitten head is staring at me in the dark. He scrunches a bit of newspaper to wipe his hands.

Just go to sleep, he says. He snaps the lock of the screen door into place. I hear the small click of it. Jordy gets back into Loretta’s bed. I can still hear things outside. I imagine lots of things out there, and they’re worse than a dingo and its growl. For a long time I listen to Jordy’s breathing. When his breathing changes and I am sure he’s asleep I step over the gummy and climb onto the edge of Loretta’s bed. I make sure I’m really far away from him so he doesn’t wake. I scrunch up on the edge. The bed smells of Loretta: cigarettes and too-sweet watermelon deodorant.

I wake covered in sweat. I dig the sleep out of my eyes. There’s a dream still, somewhere at the edges of my brain, slippery as sand. I open my eyes. Jordy’s not there. The bed is empty. I’ve sprawled to the middle where the foam sags. I sit up. I black out for a second, dizzy, until my brain catches up with my head. My mouth is so dry and tastes horrible. I look around for something to drink before I remember we’ve got nothing. I shuffle off the bed. It creaks and shudders. I fall over the gummy. Kick its flesh.

Sorry, I say and it comes out a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat. Step over the gummy, open the screen door.

Jordy, I say into the hot. A fly goes straight up my nose and I have to snort it out. It drops halfway to the ground then keeps flying.

Jordy?

I jump into my thongs and walk to the toilet. He’s not there. I take a piss and even pissing into the dark hole I can tell my piss is brown and gross. I climb to the top of the dune and look out at the beach. It is still and coloured better than jewels. I walk back to the caravan and my head beats with my heart. I look back in there. Jordy? The gummy’s broken fin sticks out from under the newspaper. The flies slip in the open door. I turn to look at Nev’s caravan and my headache beats faster. I put one foot in front of the other and cross the road. I step in the dips of the corrugations. I count my steps in my mind. It takes thirty- seven steps to reach the back of the caravan. I concentrate on my feet and don’t look up. I hear Nev talking to Jordy and I have to.

Please don’t come here, he says. Nev runs his hands through his grey hair. It’s like torture, he says. He closes his eyes and holds his hand out as if to stop the day moving forward. Standing there on stick, old-person legs. I can see through the skin on his legs. I can see his veins, his insides. Like a ghost crab’s shell, he’s see-through. Jordy sees me.

We need a drink of water, he says, please.

Nev, hearing the
we,
opens his eyes and looks right at me. I see a tear squeeze out the corner of his eye.

Fuck, he says, and wipes the tear away. You’ll ruin me, he says. He goes into the caravan.

Jordy, quick, I say. I grab his arm and he shakes me off.

No, he says.

Nev comes out with two metal cups and a bottle of Coke. He sits down at his camp table that sags in the middle like it’s tired. He balances the bottle and the cups there in the centre and pours us a glass each. The coldness beads off them. I look
at Jordy and he reaches over and takes a cup. I walk closer and take a cup too, but step quickly back. I don’t look at Nev. I sip it and it’s so sweet it burns my throat. The bubbles go up my nose and I cough, spitting Coke out onto the ground. It evaporates straight away. I take a deep breath and drink the rest slowly. A butcherbird swoops down and lands on the edge of the caravan windowsill. It taps its beak on the glass. Tap. Tap, says the butcherbird. Tap. It sharpens its beak on the metal edge of the sill then stops, cocks its head and looks at me with one eye.

I look at Nev. He has his head in his hands. I get the vision of him and Jordy come into my head bright as a television screen. I try to shake it out.

Just go, says Nev.

Jordy and I stand there with empty cups.

Get, he says.

But we need some water, Jordy says.

He looks up at us and says, Get. He stands up, flexing his old man muscles.

I drop my cup and run. I stumble and bang against the side of the caravan. It sounds hollow as a drum. I can hear the slap of Jordy’s thongs as he walks behind me. My stomach feels gross and strange with the drink in it. I imagine it in there, black. At the road I stop. The woman is there, at the front of our caravan, with a man. She’s got the baby on her hip. Jordy bumps into the back of me.

The woman jumps a little when she hears us. Her face looks guilty, like we’ve caught her at something. She has her hair up in a ponytail like how a little girl would wear it. A blush colours her face all the way down to her chest and shoulders. The man
puts his hand on her arm. He looks like all the other men here. A floppy hat over his eyes, and skin made hard and brown by the sun.

Oh hi, she says and changes her face into a happy one, puts on a smile.

Hi, I say – with the gravel road between us. Jordy steps around me. His giant singlet slips off his shoulder and I see the burn the sun has made there. The man is wearing a faded T-shirt. I can make out a date on it, from ten years ago. He lets go of his wife. Holds his hands in front of him, like he’s just discovered them and doesn’t know what to do.

Hello, he says. His voice is low and slow as a brown river.

I just came to say hi, she says. The little girl on her hip starts to cry. The inside of her mouth is the brightest red.

Loretta’s not here, says Jordy.

The woman looks at the man, as if to say, See. I just wanted to – she says and doesn’t seem to be able to finish it off. She adjusts her baby, wipes the little girl’s sweaty hair from her forehead. Gives her a quick kiss. You know, if you kids need anything, you just gotta ask. I could call someone. We’re in the big blue tent, just down there. Her baby takes a giant breath then wails. Sweetie, come on, she says and bounces the baby on her hip. She looks at her husband and he shakes his head.

Nah, we don’t need anything, says Jordy but it’s hidden under the crying.

Okay, okay, sweetie, she says. She wipes damp hair from her own forehead with the back of her hand. I think she looks really young then, younger than Loretta. She doesn’t have much wrinkles in her face when she smiles, not like Gran whose face cracks when she’s happy.

The man looks at us, and leans in, says something I can’t hear to the woman’s ear. She looks angry, cuts him off with a hissed whisper. The baby wails. Okay, I’ll see ya later then, she says to us in a too-cheery voice.

The lady finds her husband’s hand. They walk away together. She looks back once. Jordy and I are still standing in the sun in the middle of the road.

I can hear a car coming, but it sounds nothing like Bert, it growls loud. I smell the dirt before the car gets there.

Jordy pulls me by the arm, Get off of the road, dumb-ass, he says.

The back of a truck swings out as it turns the corner down to the beachfront. It’s got beady bug eye spotties on the roof. As they pass us they slow down and I can see there’s two men in the front. The driver leans out his window and yells at us, Happy New Year, throws a can of bourbon. It’s badly aimed and lands metres away from us, fizzing. Flies land on the spilled drink straight away. Gravel peppers us as they drive further into the camp and I flinch.

I hope the mum and baby are off the road, I say.

Jordy stoops in under our awning. He sits in the small section of shade. I follow him.

You want to sit a bit closer to me? he says.

I shift further away. A marchfly buzzes with its too-heavy body. I feel the marchy give up and land on my leg. I know if I move now it’ll fly away and be back in a minute to get me again. Got to let the marchy bite. I let it bite. Jordy seeing it there leans over and slaps my leg. The marchy falls to the ground and I watch the ants find it in one second.

Don’t tell Loretta, he says.

Don’t tell Loretta what? I say.

If we find her, don’t tell her what happened.

I dig into the sand at my feet. I hear a crow caw. The metallic sound of its claws on the roof of the caravan. It’s so quiet I hear its wings settle into place.

What even happened?

Nothing, he says and gives me a look that’s hate right the way from his head to his toes.

How are we going to find her?

I’m going to ask him to take us to look for her.

No, I say quietly. I don’t want to go with him.

I’m going on my own.

No.

The ants are trying to drag the marchy, but they only manage to pull it a little way. Flies crawl onto me. I swat them away. They can smell the gummy. I taste the sugar in my mouth.

The gummy smells bad, Jordy, I say. I look at him.

I know.

He told us to go away.

Yeah, I know, Tom. But he’ll take me.

The wind blows and snaps the awning. For a moment it’s cooler than before. I look at him and he looks away. The sun climbs a little bit higher.

What are we going to do?

I’m going to think for a bit, he says.

A while later I see the husband drive past us on the way into town. He raises a finger in greeting. We stare back.

Nosey parker, says Jordy, how Loretta would say it. The car’s dust settles on us.

Tom, wake up, Jordy says.

With my eyes closed the world is soft and pink. Jordy shakes me hard. I open my eyes and I can’t see anything. It’s so bright. My head feels heavy. I close my eyes again. I reach out. Jordy pulls me to my feet.

Get up, he says.

I open my eyes again. He’s right there close to my face.

Do what I say, he says and pulls me towards the dunes. Run, he says. Run.

His hand on my arm hurts, but I’m too asleep to tell him to stop. My thongs throw sand up the back of my legs and make a snap, snap sound. I try say something but my mouth is so dry it only comes out a croak. I lick my cracked lips and taste blood. He pushes me over the hump of the first dune and pulls me to the sand.

What? I say.

Shut up, he says.

I close my eyes and feel the thump thump of the headache that’s there all the time now. It feels just like the beating of my heart, like if it stopped I’d die. I go to speak again, with my eyes closed still, but he squeezes my arm hard to stop me. I open my eyes and swallow. The sand is burning hot. Jordy commandos up to the top of the dune, flat on his belly. I slither up next to him until we can just see over the top, between the waving grass. Up close the blades of grass have a soft grey fur. I try dig my body into the sand to where it’s cool, like I seen a kangaroo do.

Jor– I say but he cuts me off with a low
Shhhhh.

A police car stops in front of the caravan and idles, shudders off. A young cop doubles in size when he unfolds himself
out of the passenger side. He’s long and skinny. His gun belt looks too heavy and hangs off his waist. His eyes hidden behind wraparound sunnies. He leans back in the window and says something I can’t hear. The other cop gets out too. He’s older, with grey hair wisping out from beneath his hat. His gut hangs over his belt, his shirt holding it like a pouch.

Take a look then, eh, says the older one who speaks without opening his mouth. The lines on his face are deep enough to rest a cigarette.

Sure thing, boss, says the tall one. He walks to our caravan, leans in under the awning. He has to stoop. I hold my breath.

It doesn’t smell good, he yells back. The other cop lights up, drags on his cigarette and leans back on the car.

Well, take a look, he says.

I hear the screen door open.

Oh Jesus Christ, I hear from the caravan. Fucken hell. Fuck. He laughs nervously. Holy shit, he says.

The other cop takes a long drag on his cigarette before dropping it onto the gravel road. The tall one comes back out from under the awning, shaking his head. He takes his sunnies off, wipes the sweat from his face on his shirtsleeve. They’ve both got new moons of sweat at their armpits.

So? says the older one. Body?

There’s a big dead fish in there.

The old one raises his eyebrows. Really?

Yep.

Well, I’ll be damned. He goes has a look for himself.

What are they going to do to it? I whisper.

Shut up.

But what if they take her?

Shhh.
He punches me in the arm, but he can’t get a good angle lying on the ground, so it just feels lame.

I hear the cop cough as he comes back out.

It’s a shark, he says, not a fish.

I thought it was going to be my first body, the younger one says.

The old one shrugs his shoulders and they both look around. We flatten ourselves to the ground. I feel their eyes on us in the dunes, but time goes and they must pass over. When I look up again, Jordy has his face in the sand. He looks me in the eye and when he lifts his face, it is half-covered in white sand. The police are at Nev’s door. I hear the tinny knock, knock, knock.

Nev walks around the side. He stops when he sees them. I can’t hear what they’re saying but he talks there with the cops, as if they all know each other. The cops stand in the neat sun. Nev hides in the darkness of the shade.

What are they saying? I whisper to Jordy.

Shh,
he says, he won’t dob.

Do you reckon they’ll take the gummy?

Shut up.

The cops point to our caravan and I see Nev shrug his shoulders. They scan the dunes again. I flatten myself against the sand. Put my face into the heat, scrunching my eyes shut. I realise I’m saying, Please, please, please, please, please over and over again in my head, but I don’t know what I’m asking please for.

I hear their car start and it’s only when the sound disappears altogether that I dare to look up.

They’re gone, stupid, says Jordy. He’s sitting up on the sand.

I look at him, but I can’t see his expression ‘cos his
face is deep in its own shadow.

We gotta get the gummy outta there, he says.

I can see Nev still standing in the doorway at the front of his caravan. I don’t want to move until he’s gone. He walks out into the sun, then changes his mind, goes back into his caravan, letting the screen door bang behind him. I sit up, sand all over me.

Come on, Jordy says.

He gets up and I follow him down the dune to the caravan. He opens the door. The stink is bad, it makes my lips curl into a snarl. I look under Jordy’s arm. The gummy is in there on the floor. It looks sad and out of place. The newspaper covering is off. There are so many flies.

Jordy goes into our caravan and stands over the gummy.

Help me, he says.

I go in there, but with the three of us, the room is heaps too small. I get the gummy’s head in my hands. It slips out and slams on the lino. My hands are covered in sandy slime. Liquid oozes out of the head.