Andrea Höst - And All the Stars

The lantern glow of monster sank below the surface, and they went inside to eat and decide what next.

A chorus of breathing in a room lit only by the flicker of computer screens. Madeleine shifted, warm beneath a blanket, bracketed by sleeping people. Her back hurt.

With no sign of Moths following Rover, and everyone but Nash close to dropping where they stood, the decision to stay or leave had been a forgone conclusion. As a precaution they were all spending the night in the hidden study. While his fellow Musketeers filled their stomachs, Nash had shifted the computer to the top of the filing cabinet and removed the simple desk, creating a little more room. Then he’d been stuck with a lot of cleaning up, as everyone else focused on getting warm and dry before curling up to sleep and digest. The extremes of the Blue metabolism.

Madeleine had gone to sleep propped between Noi and Emily, but, drifting awake, she could see Nash sitting beneath the window with a laptop, and Noi curled next to the sprawling pile which was Min and Pan. The shoulder she was tucked against belonged to Fisher.

Noi had most likely contrived the swap during a bathroom excursion, and Madeleine decided to be grateful, to enjoy the moment. Fisher had continued to provide a fascinated audience during the portrait sittings, helping her clean up afterwards. Today – yesterday – they’d spent all of the time between the sitting and late afternoon training chatting. He’d avoided talking about himself, instead drawing her out on what still needed to be done on the new portrait, and the chances of a young unknown winning the Archibald Prize, and all her hopes for being able to study full time, to not need to compromise between what she wanted to do and what was likely to earn her a living. About scholarships, and the gaps in her portfolio. She hadn’t meant to talk so much, but Fisher was a good listener, and so interested.

The question was whether his interest was in her, or her art. And if he was pretending to be interested in her painting as a way to get closer to her. She wasn’t sure she would be able to forgive that.

But she still filled a small secret sketchpad with images of him, and worried about how little sleep he got, and wondered whether it would be stupid to suggest they surely had enough time for him to rest occasionally. Her private challenge was to capture how he would pause sometimes to be amused at himself, and it discomforted her, in reviewing these attempts, to see just how much of her own emotions the pictures revealed.

Nash had noticed she was awake, and was smiling at her, at the way she was trying to look at Fisher’s face without moving from his shoulder. Her sketchbooks really weren’t going to tell anybody anything they didn’t already know.

"What’s the time?" she whispered.

"Twenty to one." Nash’s voice was particularly delicious when he kept it low, and she regretted being unable to find a way to express the sound of him. "I promised to wake everyone to watch the challenge, but it can wait till there’s something to see." He removed the power cord from his laptop and leaned forward to hold it and the headphones toward her. "Here is something you will be glad of."

Reluctantly abandoning her comfortable contact with Fisher, Madeleine stretched to take it. The screen showed the ABC website, an article with a headline of "Shocking Survival" below a video image of a woman with a soft brown bob and sun damaged skin.

Researchers from James Cook University have reported a breakthrough in the treatment of Blue-Green. Earlier this evening, a representative of the School of Biomedical Sciences made the first announcement of this critical discovery.

"Our preliminary results show a dramatic increase in the survival rate of the infected if they are shocked with shield paralysis as soon as possible after exposure to the Blue-Green Conversion," Dr Jennifer Elliman said. "A healthy subject, even among smaller mammals where mortality has been nearly one hundred per cent, has in the area of a fifty per cent survival rate with Green stain, and thirty per cent with Blue."

Madeleine skimmed the rest of the article, then played the video and listened to the woman answering questions, and insisting that it was early days for absolutes, and that this was by no means a cure, only a treatment method.

She’d felt Fisher shift while she was watching, and when she removed the headphones he said: "This will provide a counter-motive for those so eager to hand over Blues."

"Perhaps," Nash said. "But only so far as keeping one or two on hand. I still would not risk putting ourselves in another’s power."

Madeleine closed the browser window, and found a second open page, headed: Leech Blues: Inevitable Murderers? Her eyes met Fisher’s, and he reached unhurriedly to brush the trackpad, closing the window.

"How is your back?"

"Sore," Madeleine admitted. "I couldn’t tell if it was bruised or not. Peering over my shoulder at the mirror isn’t effective when everything is blue." She suddenly remembered him circling her taking pictures and had to look away. "I’ll get Noi to check later," she added hurriedly, and saw that Noi was awake, watching with unabashed interest. "Or maybe now. It’s nearly time for the challenge."

"And past time for midnight snacks," Noi said, stretching. "Even normal practice sessions make it hard to get through the night without getting up to eat, let alone yesterday’s extravaganza."

She poked the pile of boy next to her while Madeleine woke Emily, and then they opened the door to let in a wash of chilly air. Nash offered to cook something, and Noi took Madeleine into the master bedroom en suite to examine her back.

"I should have suggested doing this tomorrow," Madeleine said, shirtless and shivering. "It’s definitely getting to the end of Autumn."

"Yeah, pity we can’t risk turning on the heating in this place. As it is I’ve been wondering if we’ll end up having the power cut off by some automated you-haven’t-paid-your-bill system." She poked Madeleine’s shoulder blade gently. "Hurts here, right?"

"Yes. You can see bruises then?"

"I can see where the stars aren’t. The only thing I know to do for bruises is put ice on them."

Madeleine shuddered at the idea. "Definitely not bad enough for that."

"Okay then. Look at me for a moment." Noi was standing, arms folded, eyebrows raised, lips lightly curved. "See me here, visibly restraining myself."

"Is that what you call that?"

"Did I mention I took photos? Didn’t even wait till he was asleep." Noi paused to fully appreciate Madeleine’s reaction. "He laughed. That makes him a keeper in my book."

"Noi…"

"I was going to point out that we could have died yesterday afternoon, that we could die today, or tomorrow. After all, we’re not talking wear clean underwear because you might get hit by a bus – we’re talking glowing flying buses hunting us down and trying to hump our legs. But, seriously, it’s way too much fun watching you two dancing around each other with no idea what to do next. It surprises me, since Fisher’s really very confident and assured for a Science Boy. I’m having to revise my stereotypes."

"We only met eleven…twelve days ago," Madeleine protested, pulling on her Singlet and tracksuit jacket.

"I guess so. Seems like much longer. Seems like centuries."

All the liveliness drained from Noi’s face, and this time Madeleine didn’t hesitate, but turned and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl. Noi started to pull away, but then leaned into Madeleine’s hold, breath turning to gulps.

"We were so close to being lost, Maddie. All of us, any of us. There’s no way we can make it through two years of this, and I’m just so – everyone’s gone, Maddie. I can’t stand it. They’re all gone."