Lachlan Walter - The Rain Never Came

I froze. Something in me had snapped; my ability to adjust and adapt had overloaded.

‘Blue!’

Tobe was cradling her, his fingers tracing paths over her body, his hands dripping with blood. He cried without seeming to notice. Blue shuddered, flinched away when Tobe touched her belly.

‘I need some help!’

Ruby was already comforting Red. She was crying as well, but unlike Tobe she had given in to it. I was dimly aware that one of us should be keeping an eye out for whatever had hurt Blue, but the thought was drowned out by my own numbness, by Tobe’s desperation and distress.

‘Mate, come on!’

I felt nothing: no sorrow, no sadness, no pity, just a blank detachment that separated me from the world. But still I moved, holding Blue like Tobe asked.

He cracked a canteen, washed her belly clean. ‘Fuck, no.’

Blue whimpered again, breathing fast. I stroked her head, scratched her behind her ears. Her breathing slowed dramatically. Her eyes rolled back.

‘Tobe!’

He was already beside me, taking over. ‘Come on, girl, you’ll be ‘right.’

We both knew that he was lying.

‘Come on, good girl, good dog.’

His tears and her blood pooled at his feet. He held her tight, arms wrapped around her in a familial embrace. Her eyes rolled open and she looked at him with pure love. She licked his face. He couldn’t help but smile.

She closed her eyes, shook a last time, and died in his arms.

Tobe collapsed over her body. Red howled. I cried, letting it all out. Ruby said nothing. Tobe stayed slumped over Blue’s motionless body. After a long time, he got to his feet.

Ghoulish fascination made me take a last look at Blue. Bullet holes peppered her belly.

‘Ruby? My gun.’

Ruby let go of Red. She got to her feet and unshouldered the rifle. Red ran to Blue, licked her face, nudged her with his snout.

‘Don’t move!’ an unexpected and unknown voice shouted.

Surprised, Ruby dropped the rifle. A metallic clicking cut through the quiet, the sound of a dozen or more guns being cocked. Tobe slowly raised his hands; Red quickly scuttled behind him. I raised my own hands, scared through and through. Ruby held her clenched fists at her side.

Shadowy figures started melting from the bush, their black body armour a perfect disguise, the dreaded letters CRP running down their chests. Moving as one, they silently strode down the riverbank.

‘What’s going on here?’ the lead Creep demanded.

Tobe tugged his balaclava lower onto his forehead, wincing once again. I looked at Ruby, tried to smile bravely.

‘I asked you bastards a question!’ the Creep spat.

‘Piss off,’ Tobe muttered.

‘Sorry, I didn’t catch that?’

‘I said “piss off”. What, are you deaf as well as stupid?’

And then he stood aside. Red went for the Creep’s throat, knocking him to the ground. His screams echoed through the trees. The other Creeps didn’t know what to do; they pointed their guns but couldn’t fire for fear of hitting their own. Some part of me was horrified, some part of me was glad.

Tobe smiled coldly.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ someone yelled.

Another Creep took charge, a bull-roo of a man. He holstered his gun. Without hesitation, he leapt on Red, grabbing him in a bear-hug, dragging him away from the ragged mess of the stricken Creep. Tobe took an involuntary step forward. Guns were thrust in his face, lots of them. He couldn’t do anything but watch as the bull-roo Creep picked Red up and threw him across the riverbed.

Before Red could scrabble to his feet, the Creep drew his gun and shot him dead. The tiny pop of the silenced pistol seemed too small a sound for what it had done.

‘Bastards…’

The Creep smiled. He raised his hand. ‘Hold your fire!’ he yelled, laughing and holstering his gun. ‘Come on, boy, show me what you’ve got.’

Tobe threw himself at the killer of his dog. He swung wildly, furious and unthinking. The Creep toyed with him, taunted him. Tobe managed to get a few punches in, more by luck than skill. The Creep, well fed and well trained, easily shrugged them off.

After a while, he tired of his game. He took a metal baton from his belt and hit Tobe hard enough to make him stay down.

Ruby and I were forced to watch.

‘Is that all you’ve got?’ Tobe asked through broken teeth.

He passed out. The Creep crouched down and pulled Tobe’s balaclava off. He clicked his fingers in the air. Another Creep threw him a canteen. He cracked it open, washed Tobe’s face, grabbed his scruff of hair, and lifted his head.

‘Fucking hell! Tobias Cousins, you cheeky bastard. I always wondered what happened to you.’

The Creep let Tobe’s head fall back. He stood up. He took a long drink of water. Without taking his eyes off me, he spat the water onto Red’s body.

‘Do you want a go?’ he asked.

My simmering rage began to bubble over. I took a step forward.

‘Well, what are you waiting for? Bloody Christmas?’

He had Tobe down pat. I didn’t stop to wonder why, and started a fight I knew I couldn’t win.

Arasping wind was all I could hear. I took a deep breath, coughed hard, and felt a cracked rib twinge. Everything flooded back—leaving home, saying goodbye to Louise, driving through the bush, riding out the collapsing bridge, seeing Red and Blue die, watching Tobe fight.

I had no memory of what happened after I threw myself at the bastard that killed Tobe’s dogs.

I forced my eyes open. I had no idea where I was.

I managed to sit up. My cracked rib twinged again, and was soon followed by a choir of other pains. I took stock of myself as best I could. Someone had stripped me of my tattered clothes, replacing them with a pair of ragged coveralls. Bandages covered my punctured leg, a splint strapped next to them. I reached up, felt bandages swaddling my head. I unbuttoned my shirt; my chest was a shiny bog of bruises.

‘Ugh.’

Lanterns hung from the wooden ceiling beams. Threadbare curtains covered the windows. Everything was dusty. Somewhat incongruously, I was surrounded by stainless-steel stands laden with plastic bags of fluid. They swayed slightly, like some kind of obscene foliage, the wind forcing its way through the innumerable cracks in the wooden walls. A motionless figure—a bull-roo of a man, his face covered in bandages—lay strapped to the trolley next to mine. Tobe lay on the next trolley along, snoring loudly.

I was relieved, despite all the trouble that he had caused me.

Tobe wore a stranger’s clothes as well. His left arm hung in a sling. One of his eyes was so puffy it had collapsed in on itself. He snorted in his sleep. He reached down and scratched his crotch. He rolled over, ending up on his injured arm.

‘Ah, fuck!’

He was instantly awake, rubbing his arm gingerly. I tried not to laugh but I couldn’t help myself. This time it was my turn to cry out, my cracked rib giving me one last chance.

‘Shit!’

‘Bill, mate, is that you?’

I laughed again, softer this time. My broken body allowed me that much.

Tobe jumped off his trolley, as easy as can be. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

‘How do you reckon?’

‘Mate, you’re not the only one who got the short end of the stick.’

I looked at him properly. Bruises mottled his skin. He wheezed every time he took a breath. He seemed to have trouble focusing on me, his good eye glassy. But at least he could walk.

‘You okay?’ he asked again.

Despite our presumably dire predicament, I wasn’t actually feeling too bad. The fact that it was once again the two of us against the world comforted me, no matter our injuries and setbacks.