Walking to the Stars (12 page)

Josh was racing Talgerit, by the looks of it, though he was hampered by having been taught at least some table manners by Fineen, where as Talgerit was using two spoons and his fingers for maximum efficiency and not bothering to chew as he went.

Samuel was watching Nick's face when he glanced up, and Samuel had an intensity about his gaze that reminded Nick of watching Samuel scratch his leg a few days before. The wait for Samuel to be healed looked like it was going to be even more difficult to bear.

Josh and Talgerit ate two huge platefuls each, piling the plates up with boiled wheat and metagee, and guzzling vast amounts of water because of the burn, but Nick stopped after one ordinary serve. He didn't want to make himself sick, and it was so much more fun to watch Josh and Talgerit do it anyway.

Talgerit left after dinner, clutching his belly and almost waddling, leaving behind a mess that was plainly visible in the electric light. “I'll clean up,” Nick said reluctantly. “Since Samuel cooked and Josh has been working all day."

"Haven't you been working?” Samuel asked.

"No,” Nick said. “I've actually spent the entire day sitting in my office, eating the scones with jam and cream, and cups of tea that Jo has been bringing me.” He grinned. “Of course I've been working. Got to sew up Claire from Ongerup's arm from where she fell off the tractor."

"She needs a stump-jump plough,” Josh said wisely.

"She needs lots of things,” Nick replied.

When the electric light was off, and the room was back to its usual nighttime inky blackness, Nick slid into bed beside Samuel, and Samuel's hands found him, drawing him close.

The sheets were chilly against Nick's bare skin, but Samuel was warm and willing, mouth open and tasting of bicarb of soda from brushing his teeth, and Nick kissed him deeply.

Samuel's hand stroked down his back, dragging sharp edges of nails across his ribs, and in the dark it all became so certain, so real, shivering and present, then Samuel's hand curled around his cock and began to stroke him.

"Samuel,” Nick whispered. “Don't... Too much..."

"Let me,” Samuel murmured back, mouth against Nick's.

Nick did.

The crashing from the kitchen pulled Nick from bed, making him pull on clothes in the dark and find his slippers on the icy floor. He pulled the covers tighter around Samuel without waking him, and closed the door quietly behind himself.

It was strange, being able to turn the bathroom light on to piss and wash his hands and face. In the silvered mirror, his face was unfamiliar, an almost-smile right there, under his beard.

It was strange to find a fully-lit Josh in the kitchen, whistling as he stirred his porridge on the stove, dressed ready for a day in the cold.

"Morning,” Josh said, as Nick reached for the teapot.

"Morning,” Nick said, and he felt as well-lit as the room.

"Kettle's not boiled yet,” Josh pointed out. “We had another frost last night."

"That'd be winter then,” Nick said, and some of how he felt must have been in his voice because Josh studied him closely, with that faraway gaze of his.

When the kettle boiled, Josh filled the teapot and spooned in the chicory, and sat down at the table, opposite Nick.

"Dad,” he said. “If you want to do this, then I think you should. I can run the farm by myself, if I don't crop as many paddocks, run some goats as well as sheep, keep a couple of pigs to sell in Albany."

"Time's running out for me,” Nick said. “I've had several lifetimes’ worth of radiation exposure, and received every vaccination the armed forces could think of. I'm not going to be here forever."

"Like Mum,” Josh said. “I'd realized that. I think I'd just been fooling myself, telling myself you wouldn't leave, that the community needed you and you wouldn't leave your patients."

Nick put his hand over Josh's, on the table. “I had to think about that, too, had to remind myself that being a person matters more than being a doctor."

"I couldn't think of a reason to not like Samuel either,” Josh said. “He's a good bloke.” He smiled a little and added, “And he can cook. Really, I think that's the most important thing. If you both survive this, bring him back here, and he can learn to drive a tractor, then he'll be perfect."

"Thank you,” Nick said. “For everything."

Josh smiled wider. “Looks like I'll have to pursue Jenny Duggan myself if I want to keep eating her jam."

"She can drive a tractor and cook,” Nick said. “She'd meet your criteria."

The rain water tanks for the house and shed were both overflowing, the dams on the farm were full, too, and the paddocks that Josh had sown with wheat, oats and clover were all a foot deep in green growth, and it was still raining.

"It'll stop soon,” Josh said morosely, standing on the back verandah and watching the deluge. “There'll be no more rain, not till next year."

The sheep in the top paddock all looked waterlogged, dragging around immense burdens of soggy wool as they grazed, and Samuel watched a bedraggled and dripping procoptodon hop slowly through the top paddock, Harold barking at its heels, scattering the sheep.

"Stop exaggerating,” Nick replied, his arm slung around Samuel's shoulder. “There'll be a late summer storm, with hail and lightning strikes, and the crop'll be ruined."

The procoptodon took out the fence between the paddock and the nascent wheat crop with a loping hop, and Josh reached for his waterproof jacket where it hung beside the back door.

"Bloody things,” Josh said, and waded out into the mud after retrieving a pair of pliers from the windowsill.

"I'm going to take your cast off tomorrow,” Nick said, nuzzling against Samuel's neck. “Then we can go."

Samuel leaned against Nick's shoulder and slid his arm around Nick's waist. After all he'd done to get that far, he found himself reluctant to leave the farm. “It's comfortable here,” he said. “Besides, we'll have to find Talgerit, he could be anywhere."

"You watch,” Nick said. “Talgerit will turn up exactly when he's needed, he's learning to be a clever man."

This time, when Nick cut Samuel's cast off, Jo wasn't there, and when he'd yanked the cast off, and cut away the padding and gauze, Nick kissed Samuel and said, “Scratch yourself, I want to watch this."

Samuel looked down at his thigh and said, “That's disgusting. I can't scratch that until I've had a bath."

Dead skin was flaking off, mixed with shreds of gauze and tufts of padding, all stuck to his leg, and it looked hideous.

"With the cast off, you can have a bath now,” Nick pointed out. “Stove's been on all morning, there'll be plenty of hot water."

"A bath...” Samuel said, sighing. “That would be wonderful. I've never been so grubby in all my life."

"It'll be the last time you'll be clean for a while,” Nick said. “Make the most of it."

The bath was heaven. Samuel had never seen a bathtub long enough for an adult to stretch out in, but the one at the farmhouse was, and with the rain drumming steadily against the roof and the gutters gurgling he didn't need to feel bad about using so much rainwater.

Nick was there, scissors in one hand, in front of the mirror, hacking away at his shaggy beard and scruffy hair. Samuel had done his before the bath, and consequently hair bits floated in the water.

Samuel washed his head with the slab of soap, scrubbing away at the skin, then sunk down under the water to rinse the suds off.

When he emerged, Nick was trimming under his chin, pulling absurd faces in the mirror, and Samuel slid a hand down his belly.

The scars on his chest and thigh were much the same, dark red ridges of new skin, and Samuel found that he was now proud of the scars.

Nick knelt down beside the bath and slid his hand across the scars on Samuel's chest as well. “Need a hand washing?” he asked, and he reached for the bar of soap.

A thudding and grinding sounded from outside, and it wasn't the steady thumpthump of the tractor. Nick put the soap down. “Sounds like company,” he said.

Harold barked, just once, then gave a scared yip, and Talgerit called out, “You two kissing again?” and the back door thudded open.

"Yes!” Nick called back. “Have some food while you wait!"

Samuel dropped his voice and murmured, “Testing my leg is not an option, unna?"

Nick chuckled, and said, “I don't think so."

Talgerit called out, “Heard that. This is good jam."

When Samuel had dried himself and dressed, Talgerit and Nick were in the kitchen, apparently negotiating what they were taking with them.

"...then Josh will be unhappy,” Nick said, picking up the bread knife from the pile on the table and putting it back in the sink.

"And the jam, eh?” Talgerit said hopefully.

Nick took a pot of jam off the shelf and put it on the table. “Jam."

"Some of the stuff Samuel uses to make food, eh?” Talgerit said. “So he can cook rabbit that makes our mouths hot?"

They both looked at Samuel expectantly and Samuel shrugged. “Or roo. It would taste good with roo."

"Lots of roo,” Talgerit said. “If I can catch it."

"You're not taking your shotgun?” Nick asked Talgerit.

"No, Ed said I have to do this the old way or I won't be a Featherman.” Talgerit looked as morose as he could with his exuberant good nature. “Roos are hard to catch."

"What's a Featherman?” Samuel asked. “No one has ever told me."

Talgerit spread his hands wide, dropped his gaze, and his body became still, more than still. His expression fell away, and when he looked up at Samuel again, his eyes focused right through Samuel. Samuel would have sworn the room temperature dropped.

"Stop it, that's creepy,” Nick said. “A Featherman can walk through this world without a trace, act without consequences. Right, Talgerit?"

Talgerit was back, and the prickling cold left Samuel. “That's right, Dr. Nick. A Featherman is a clever man, and he can seek revenge without anyone knowing."

Samuel nodded. He was getting used to the oddities of Talgerit's language, and to the idea that clever meant more than intelligent.

The wooden slats of the shearing shed floor were silver with age and slick with lanolin. Josh was squatting down beside the mothering pen, guiding an orphaned lamb onto its adoptive mother's teat.

"Evening,” Josh said when Nick squatted down beside him. “Much easier to do this with decent lighting, isn't it?"

"Seems so,” Nick said, watching the lamb latch on, despite the adoptive mother's attempts to get away.

"You're really leaving tomorrow morning?” Josh asked. “For sure?"

"Yes,” Nick said, and he stroked his hand across Josh's shoulder. “I love you. Just seemed important to make sure you knew."

"Love you, too, Dad,” Josh said, and he let go of the lamb, now securely attached, and wrapped his arms around Nick's neck and hugged him hard.

"My car,” Talgerit said, and he sounded as immovable as the boulders near the camp.

"It needs fuel, Talgerit,” Nick said. “We'd have to carry enough oil or fat to run it. My car we can run on charcoal and wood."

Talgerit crossed his arms and glowered, and the yellow dog he had with him snarled at Harold, who promptly bolted for the verandah.

Josh sauntered over from the big shed, coil of fencing wire over one shoulder. “You can't take a car over the song line, can you?” he said. “Means you'll have to leave the car wherever that is. Someone might steal your car, Talgerit. It's not like it locks or anything."

Talgerit looked horrified at the idea, and said, “We take Dr. Nick's van, unna? Doesn't matter if anyone nicks that."

"I'll look after your car, Talgerit,” Josh said. “If you let me drive it."

Talgerit slapped Josh solidly on the shoulders, rocking him despite his build. “Brother's son, you can drive my car."

"What else do we need to take?” Samuel asked, looking at the box of food and the small sack of flour, and nudging the dog out of the box with his foot.

"My medical bag's in the van already,” Nick said. “I'm leaving most of my supplies here, Josh. Make sure Jo gets them."

Josh nodded, and said, “Blankets? You should be right for water, at least until you have to leave the van."

Samuel wasn't quite used to be able to walk around easily, it was still a novelty to have both hands free, and he jumped up the back steps to the verandah, just for the joy of it, and left the others deep in discussion.

His duffel bag was too big, so he transferred the maps and articles on the clock to a small fabric bag, shoved in a clean pair of underpants, a shirt and his toothbrush on top of them, and grabbed his waterproof jacket from its hook on the way back out again.

The side door of the van was open, so he tossed his bag in the back, feeling as bouncy as Talgerit.

Josh and Nick were hugging, and Talgerit had a soppy look on his face, watching them. Samuel knew they'd said goodbye the night before, because Nick had woken him when he'd finally come to bed, frozen and sorrowful, and Samuel had held him in the dark for a long time before Nick had finally gone to sleep.

They didn't say anything, not that Samuel heard anyway, and Josh let go of Nick and hugged Talgerit, and then Samuel.

Some things didn't need words.

When Samuel looked back, leaning out of the passenger side window, Josh and Harold were standing beside the shed, Josh with a coil of fencing wire over one arm again.

Talgerit leaned forward, over the seats, and said, “Where we going first?"

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The first couple of hours were familiar territory to Nick, he traveled these roads constantly; the smooth run out of town, where the bitumen had actually been repaired, then slowing down for the slippery gravel out past the Passell's farm, and then the ford.

It wasn't a ford for nine months of the year, then it was a dip in the road, but this was one of the other three months, and water roared over the road, at least a meter deep.

"How do we do this?” Samuel asked, rising up in his seat to peer over the cracked and pitted dash.