The Last Girl Page 8

  NINE

  I set the gun on the dresser in Dad and Stephanie’s bedroom and rummaged through her handbag. Holding the BMW keys sent doubt spiralling up inside me. I forced it down. I had to be brave. But I also had to be realistic. I was pretty likely to crash the car. If we survived that, we’d have to go on foot with supplies that I could carry.

  Leaving home had been my dream since Stephanie moved in. Striking out into the world, head held high, offering dignified goodbyes, taking a few treasured keepsakes, knowing I’d never look back: that’s how I’d pictured it. This was a long way from that. I stood in the doorway of my bedroom with no idea what to take.

  First thing I needed to take was a deep breath. I did that. Tried to keep calm.

  My flannel pyjamas. Not the best outfit for a survival situation. I changed into jeans, a chunky woollen jumper, thick socks and leather boots. It might feel like I was melting in these clothes but at least they wouldn’t melt to my skin if I had to face flames. I tied my hair into a ponytail and tucked it under a baseball cap. Pulling my backpack from the cupboard, I looked around for what else I needed.

  My big bed was an expanse of stuffed animal friends carried over from childhood. More recent imaginary friends—Mary Shelley, Dorothy Parker, Ellen Ripley, Lisa Simpson, Elissa Steamer—gazed down from my corkboard collage. My beanbag was buried under a midden of clothes and my desk was strewn with magazines. My dressing table was a landscape of polishes, lipsticks and moisturisers and the wall shelves were stacked with books, games, gadgets and trinkets. I hadn’t thought I was a materialistic girly-girl but now it hit me how much of my stuff was meaningless. Surely there had to be something I possessed that was useful for survival.

  ‘Sneakers!’ I said to myself, and packed them.

  Spare jeans. A jacket. Sunglasses might be good. Ditto a notebook. I grabbed a clutch of pens. I ripped my cash roll out of its jar and stuffed it in my pocket. I didn’t know if we were beyond money, but no sense being caught short. It pained me to leave Mum’s painting, but lugging a canvas was hardly practical. She could do another one for me in Shadow Valley. My eyes fell on the Lucidiphil packet. Surely I didn’t need the medication now that the world had given me a second opinion about my condition. I spun around: there was nothing else.

  Downstairs I made sure Boris was still blacked out in blinking lights before I ransacked the pantry for packet noodles, tins of tuna, boxes of crackers, some fruit and a few bottles of water. I grabbed a lighter, torch, spare batteries, can-opener, cutlery. In the bathroom, I added a first-aid kit, sunblock, painkillers, tampons, soap and toilet paper. In all, I filled the backpack and two shopping bags.

  I lugged the load through the internal entrance to the garage and put it in the boot of the BMW. Panting for breath, I looked around with fresh eyes. Dad’s love of expensive sports had built up a survivalist repository of sorts. I grabbed the tent and a sleeping bag good enough to take to the summit of Mount Everest. I put them in beside my backpack and bags. I added his state-of-the-art fishing rod and tackle kit and the compound bow and quiver of arrows. I guessed I could learn how to use them. I was wondering whether I’d need my old horse saddle when I realised all I was doing was delaying our departure because I was so scared. The roads were only getting more dangerous and difficult. I slammed the boot shut.

  I still had to load Evan. But I didn’t want his last memory of the house to be horrific. So I went to the linen cupboard in the downstairs hallway and grabbed three big sheets. I draped one over Dad and then covered Stephanie. I stood by their shrouded bodies, trying to form a prayer. Only one word came.

  ‘Goodbye.’

  The third sheet was for Boris, still catatonic on the couch. Then I realised he was as good as dead if I left him tied up. He’d be at the mercy of whoever came in once we left. If the house burned he wouldn’t have a chance. As I wondered what to do, Boris’s Christmas lights winked out. I whirled around. The kitchen light was off. The electricity was gone.

  Everywhere around Beautopia Point panic redoubled as televisions and stereos died and houses dropped into darkness.

  Power’s-out-I-need-that-tablet-Where’s-the-flashlight?-Give-it-to-me!

  Outside, the air was the colour of caramel, but the lounge room was almost black. I clicked on my phone’s flashlight app, left Boris and headed upstairs.

  I opened the cupboard doors. Evan was still in his Shades.

  ‘Honey, we’re going out for a while.’

  ‘Luna?’

  Luna Park was his favourite place in the world. We’d sometimes get the ferry there for the afternoon. Evan couldn’t read my mind. I could still tell white lies. What a superpower.

  ‘Yes, Luna Park!’

  Evan hopped out of the cupboard and I quickly dressed him in corduroy trousers, sneakers and his little leather jacket.

  Luna-night?-Dark-outside-ferry-Can-driver-see?

  Evan had more going on than we’d given him credit for.

  ‘Special surprise,’ I said. ‘I’m driving!’

  Evan looked at me quizzically.

  Danby-don’t-drive.

  ‘Dad and Stephanie said I could. For Christmas!’

  Evan grinned.

  ‘Big Bear! Shades!’

  I nodded. ‘Sure, we’ll take them.’

  He clapped. That was good. I needed him happy.

  I carried Evan down the stairs and to the garage. He climbed up into his booster. As he resumed his game of Snots, I wedged the overstuffed toy between him and the back of the passenger seat. Shades would help keep his mind from wandering. Big Bear might help keep him safe if I crashed us.

  ‘Be right back!’

  There was one more thing to do before I got into the driver’s seat.

  Making my way back into the lounge room, I shone the phone on Boris. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. His mind wasn’t anywhere. Nevertheless I approached him as though he was a tranquilised wolf. Unwrapped the Christmas lights just enough that he’d be able to free himself. When I pulled his arm clear I was stunned that it hung there in space. My heart thudded and I glanced at his face. Expected his eyes to flick open. For him to grin as his mind screamed Gotcha! But he was still a . . .

  Goner.

  The word had come from nowhere. I wanted it to go back there.

  ‘No.’

  Boris wasn’t a Goner because Jacinta wasn’t a Goner.

  I sent myself out to her. She wasn’t anywhere I could reach.

  ‘Hold on,’ I said. ‘I’m coming.’

  ‘RIAAAAOW.

  ’ I spun around, heart smashing against my rib cage, to see Upton, the cat, flexing on the rug, eyes phosphoric in the phonelight.

  ‘Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!’

  ‘Riaaaaaow,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ I said, clomping to the kitchen, him following on little ninja feet.

  I poured our entire supply of Celebrity Cat into the biggest bowl I could find.

  When studying modern narrative in English, Mr Creighton had told us about a Hollywood guru who had his students Save the Cat early in scripts to get the audience’s sympathy. But there was no way I was taking the little bastard with us. Upton would scratch my eyes out and slice open a vein before I got him anywhere near the car. I told myself he’d be okay, that he probably had a better chance than we did, and then shuddered when I thought about what he’d eat when he’d snuffled his way through that mountain of food.

  I couldn’t save Upton—or Dad or Stephanie—but I could save Jacinta.

  The BMW’s leather seats sighed as I slid behind the wheel. I found the clicker in the centre console and the garage door hummed up behind us. Turning the key in the ignition rewarded me with the engine purring to life. That was good. The car didn’t know I couldn’t drive it. I tried to look at the controls and instrument panel with a methodical mind. Billions of people drove. How hard could it be?

  I found the lights, clicked them on and saw my skateboard propped against the back wall of
the garage. No way I was leaving it behind. I got out, grabbed the deck, threw it in the back seat next to Evan and got back behind the wheel. In the rear-view mirror, Evan had the Shades translucent and was peering over Big Bear’s polar fur.

  Danby-drive-funny.

  ‘You got that right.’ I adjusted the mirror until my rear view was a rectangle of darkness tinged red by tail-lights. ‘Now what?’

  A rhetorical question, if ever there was one.

  Mummy-foot-handbrake-gear-look-back-slowly-slowly.

  I turned around. Evan wore a little smile but his eyes were far away.

  Mummy-said-foot-brake—

  I was in one of his disjointed memories. It made him feel happy but it was beyond freaky seeing Stephanie superimposed over me in my seat, smiling back at him as she reversed, describing what she was doing in a silly singsong. I just couldn’t get a lock on the exact words.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘What did Mummy say?’

  Evan’s mouth took over from his mind: ‘Foot down on brake, handbrake up, gear in reverse, look behind and then slowly, slowly like the sloth.’ My little brother intoned his little mantra in the hollow tone he used when he parroted somebody. ‘Foot down on brake, handbrake up, gear in reverse, look behind and then slowly, slowly like the sloth.’

  Hearing it ripped my heart for him. If he ever asked what had happened to his mummy and daddy, I didn’t know what I was going to say. No time to dwell on that. Only time to make use of what he’d said. I put my foot on the brake, lifted the handbrake, slipped the gearstick from P to R and then eased us back.

  Once off the driveway, I turned the steering wheel so the car curved smoothly onto the road.

  ‘Woo!’

  Ridiculously proud, I smiled back at my little instructor. But Evan was behind his Shades. I was on my own.

  Sliding the stick into D, I eased off the brake and leaned on the accelerator. The BMW crept along First Street and I steered us past a body on the road. Outside the halo of headlights, in gloomy yards and darkened footpaths, downcast faces were lit by digital glare. None of them looked up. But there were others in the shadows with enough awareness to see the BMW gliding past like a ghost vehicle.

  Tinted-windows-No-one-driving?-Can’t-hear-anyone-Gotta-get-the-car-Get-the-car.

  Those thoughts fired like paparazzi flashes as the vehicle took on the strange allure of a celebrity’s stretch limousine. People wanted to know who was inside. People wanted to be inside.

  I jammed my foot down. We shot across Reflection Road. Left would-be attackers back down the hill. I drove us around a corner towards Jacinta’s building. My eyes scanned left, right and all around for road hazards as my mind did the same to scan for imminent threats. The clamour everywhere was increasing but it wasn’t directed at us for the moment.

  I stopped the BMW outside Goldrise and turned to Evan.

  He had his Shades off and was wide-eyed.

  ‘Noisyscary!’ Noisy-scary-noisy.

  Evan was hooking into the minds. He didn’t understand what they were saying and seeing but he was soaking up all their bad feelings.

  Scary-noisy.

  ‘I know,’ I said as soothingly as possible, ‘but it’s all going to be okay.’

  Luna-please.

  ‘We’ll go there in a minute but you’ve got to do something first.’

  Do-something-first.

  ‘All I need you to do is say, “Jacinta!”’

  He looked at me uncertainly.

  ‘Fairy floss at Luna if you can do it.’

  That got him more interested.

  ‘You know her. Ja-sin-ta,’ I said slowly. ‘Ja-sin-ta.’

  Ja-sin-ta, he turned the word over in his mind, liking the sound of it.

  That’s what I wanted.

  ‘Ja-sin-ta,’ he whispered.

  ‘That’s right!’ I beamed at him. ‘JA-SIN-TA! JA-SIN-TA! JA-SIN-TA!’

  Evan joined in, repeating her name, thinking her name.

  Ja-sin-ta-Ja-sin-ta-Ja-sin-ta.

  Jacinta couldn’t hear my thoughts. But she might hear Evan’s. If he could reach her, bring her back, then she’d see me through his eyes and I could tell her to get down here to the car.

  Evan and I stared at each other, singing that one word, blocking out all else. I sent my mind out for Jacinta’s, hoping she’d flicker back to consciousness. There was nothing. He wasn’t getting through. But we had attracted the attention of other minds inside Goldrise and in neighbouring buildings.

  Girl-and-kid-in-car-Can-deal-with-them-Still-get-away . . .

  They’d heard Evan. Seen me through him. Coveted the BMW from darkened windows.

  A warning shot would slow them down.

  Shit!

  I’d overpacked everything else but I’d left the gun on the dresser. It wasn’t like I could whip the bow and arrow from the boot and learn archery in time to defend us. We had to get moving. First I had to make sure Jacinta knew my plan.

  I grabbed my phone and hit redial.

  ‘You’ve called Jacinta,’ she said. ‘You know what to do.’

  Beep!

  The guy who lived in Goldrise apartment 5C was barrelling down the fire-escape stairs with a baseball bat, prepared to beat me to death if that’s what it took to take the car.

  ‘Jax,’ I said into her voicemail. ‘I can’t get to you. I’m . . . I’m going to Mum’s. I’ll call you again. I don’t know—oh shit!’

  I threw the phone on the passenger seat as 5C burst through the front doors. He stalked towards the car, pounding the bat against the palm of his hand.

  I-will-smash-you-I-don’t-want-to-but—

  ‘Get out of the car and no one gets hurt!’ he yelled.

  I turned to Evan. He gaped, terrified, feeling the blast wave of the man’s fury.

  ‘Hang on!’ I screamed.

  I switched my foot from brake to accelerator and the BMW roared out of range just as 5C lunged. I didn’t need to look back to know he’d landed rough on the road, had cracked a wrist bone and was howling in my exhaust.

  Adrenaline rushed through me and I sped up with it. It was like the first time I braved the half pipe. Crash or crash through: that’s all I could do. I couldn’t think about leaving my best friend behind, about what had happened to Dad and Stephanie, about what was happening to however many millions of others. Mum, Evan, me: we were what mattered now.

  I hit fifty as we hit Commercial Street, just missed an abandoned Jeep, veered around two teenagers brawling on the bitumen. Off to my left, The Grocery was in darkness and beset by bobbing flashlights. Looters. Their minds scared me. Not because they were stealing but because every single one of them was going at it alone. Though they were all there for the same reasons, could all read each other’s thoughts, there was no cooperation or coordination, only competition and conflict. When wary distance failed, fights erupted. There was no coming back from this. I was living through the end of the world. ‘Living through’ was probably too much to hope for.

  The BMW raced under Beautopia Point’s archway entrance and into the real world—or what was left of it. I hit the brakes and we skidded to a stop in the middle of Boundary Road. We were in the working class suburb that bordered Beautopia. It’d be nice to report its residents were more down to earth than our estate’s self-important elite and thus less susceptible to the mental meltdown. But that wasn’t true. Behind the brick veneer and fibro facades, they were just as screwed as everyone else.

  The phone burbled from the seat as a text arrived.

  ‘Thank God!’

  I snatched it up, overjoyed that I could swing the car around and go pick up Jacinta. But she hadn’t messaged me. I’d missed a call. Private number. Mum!

  I jabbed the key for voicemail.

  ‘Danby! Danby!’ She sounded terrified. ‘Oh, baby, your dad! Stephanie! My God! Please be all right. Evan too. This is—this is—I love you. Please call me! I love you!’

  Sobbing, I hit her number.

  First time she�
��d ever answered first ring. ‘Danby!’

  ‘Mum! I’m so scared!’

  ‘Me too, darling!’ She yelled over whatever was in her mind. ‘Wh—where are you?’

  ‘I’m coming with Evan. Mum I’m—’

  ‘So loud! I thought it was just me that I—’

  Silence. I wished she wasn’t out of range. That I could hear her mind and see she was really all right.

  ‘Are you okay, Mum?’

  ‘My mind . . . it’s so loud.’

  ‘Is it safe there?’

  ‘It’s not safe anywhere but at least here it’s—’

  Then she was gone in a beep-beep-beep.

  I screamed at the thought of her beautiful mind catatonic.

  Then I looked at the phone. Laughed with relief.

  No bars. Mum wasn’t gone. The network was.

  ‘At least here it’s—’

  Safer: that’s what she’d been going to say. I was sure of it. Shadow Valley was remote and sparsely populated. It had to better than here. All I had to do was get us there.

  I wrenched the steering wheel and accelerated us away from the river and towards the freeway that connected the city to the mountains. Talking to Mum had given me hope that I didn’t want to sully. So I didn’t skip to minds in the smoke and haze ahead. This stretch of road looked clear of vehicles. Maybe this was the start of our clean getaway.

  A wreck loomed out of the murk. White Kombi, flipped on its roof, billowing smoke, shredded corpse sprawling from a side window. After that, there was only total gridlock. Drivers bashed cars. Tried to funnel forwards. Trapped themselves tighter when they tried to reverse. I skidded to a stop. Cursed myself for being so stupid.

  Now I did leapfrog from mind to mind. Traffic was at a standstill for kilometres. The freeway exit was blocked by a blazing pile-up. Every highway lane was blocked with crashed or abandoned cars. All around me drivers refused to believe these were all roads to nowhere.

  Has-to-be-a-way-through-C’mon-move-Let’s-go-At-least-got-the-stereo-screen-air-con-Oh-God-no-petrol-pouring . . .