Lachlan Walter - The Rain Never Came

‘Right, time to get a move on.’ The commander nudged the steel trough with the toe of his boot, pushing it back our way. ‘You know what to do.’

Ruby reluctantly spun in front of the commander, showing him that the pockets of her coveralls had been slashed and torn. She turned her back on him. I started emptying my pockets, realising that in the rush of leaving Ishra and the confusion of everything that had followed I hadn’t gotten around to checking them. It’s strange, not knowing what you might be carrying…

I found Tobe’s tarnished compass, his antique lighter, his jangle of rusty keys, a possum skin of bush tobacco, the old rusty nail that my hat had once hung upon. They all went into the trough, each a reminder of yet another loss.

I kicked the trough back. The commander crouched down and sifted through it, dismissing it as junk.

‘Men, if you will?’

The gate behind us creaked open. Heavy boots crunched on gravel.

‘You two, up against the fence.’

We did as we were told, staring at the commander’s smug smile through the wire. One of the Creeps behind me kicked my legs apart and frisked me roughly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that they were treating Ruby a little more gently. But only a little, as is their way.

They found nothing on either of us.

‘Very good, you’re learning. Now, gather your things and come along.’

The commander dumped our packs in the trough and nudged it back through the gate. I filled my pockets with the bits and bobs Tobe had left me. I emptied his pack into mine. Ruby struggled to shoulder it, but she got there in the end. The commander unlocked the gate and swung it open.

‘Welcome to the Echuca-Moama Refugee Camp… Sergeant, if you would?’

One of the Creeps flanking the commander abruptly strode off. All but two of the Creeps that had met us off the train followed after him.

‘Lead on,’ the commander said.

I resisted the urge to correct him as we reluctantly stepped through the gate. Ruby walked in my shadow. We kept on, my stick occasionally catching on the gravel surface of the apron separating the fence from the camp.

We entered an ungodly fresh hell.

The sprawling city of junk shimmered with heat haze; clouds of smoke billowed; tongues of flame leapt into the sky; flies, carrion birds, dust and despair filled the air. A towering steeple rose from the middle of the jumbled ruins; others dotted the camp’s perimeter: watchtowers and guard towers, rifle barrels bristling from gun nests like so many coarse hairs. A formless noise swelled around us. It seemed to have no beginning or end, like the sound of the far off ocean. Muffled voices, the rhythms of industry, stomping feet, buzzing flies, barking dogs, squawking birds, the clink-clink of commerce, the angry yelling of the aggrieved—they all blended into one.

‘Shit,’ Ruby said.

There seemed no more appropriate word.

‘Try to think of it as home,’ the commander suggested.

Our eyes were open wide; our mouths were closed shut. We were absolutely overwhelmed.

The commander led us on. We followed meekly, turning down one of the many alleys that cut between the tattered tents, battered tin sheds and shacks made of reclaimed rubbish. It was hard to ignore the bullet holes that peppered some of them. For the most part, it was impossible to tell if people lived in them or if they had been abandoned or if they were simply waiting for someone desperate enough to call them home.

‘Shit,’ Ruby said again, as the alley opened onto a rough town square.

‘You degenerates and your language…’

There were people everywhere; we ignored the commander in favour of gawping. A lot of them sat around listlessly, doing their best to escape the sun. A lot more struggled to ward off worse enemies. Buying, selling, trading, taking, fighting, playing, dancing, feasting and fucking—the lethargy in the air was only matched by the frantic activity of those trying to keep boredom and frustration at bay.

‘You’ll have time to explore later.’

The commander hurried across the square, leading us through a maze of barter stalls, open-air workshops, makeshift ironmongers and bootleg home brew stands. No one met his eye; everyone was noticeably doing their best to avoid his attention. We trailed after him, as docile as thirsty beasts being herded to a waterhole.

‘Shit,’ Ruby kept saying as each new surprise met her unbelieving eyes.

Numerous dusty roads, broken streets and grimy alleys branched off the square. The commander led us into one that seemed no different from any other, a twisting, winding thing strewn with rubble and occasionally blocked by a rusted-out car. We kept walking. The alley soon straightened out, stopping at a towering brick wall.

‘Shit.’

‘Yes, yes, yes—we get the point.’

Fresh alleys led left and right, following the wall in both directions. The commander steered us right; a single-file human snake, we slithered through an alley that opened onto a wide road stretching in both directions, seemingly splitting the camp in two. On the far side, the camp continued; on our side, an immaculate red-brick courthouse loomed above us, surrounded by the desiccated remnants of a sprawling manicured garden. The courthouse was an ornate piece of the long-dead past, a ridiculous tower capping off its grandiosity. A dozen steps rose from the street to its doors; two Creeps stood guard, the first I had seen aside from our escort. Both were armed with actual guns, rather than the taser the commander had carried. Another Creep stood at the top of the steps, looking over a crowd of fifty or so fellow holdouts.

They looked back at him with desperate eyes, while he took his time waving certain people to one side.

‘Work detail,’ the commander explained inadequately.

‘What’s in it for them?’ I asked, barely aware of the words falling from my mouth.

He smirked. ‘Not much, a bit of extra food and water in the ration pack. The true reward lies in having something useful to do… Anyway, that’s for later. Right now, you need to remember how to get here. This is where you’ll find everything you need—food, water, first aid. The bell sounds at eight every day. You turn up, join the queue, exchange your old ration pack and canteen for new ones, and that’s that.’

I looked up at the building, disbelief growing in my staring eyes. Plastic bullhorns adorned the tower; another pair of Creeps watched the crowd from the roof. Like their fellow bastards, they were armed with actual guns as well.

‘Please, don’t be late and don’t forget: there are no favours here. If you miss it, you’ll have to make do.’

I whistled low.

‘If you want to see a doctor, the guards will assess you first—don’t worry, they know what they’re doing. And if you have a problem with a fellow refugee, I suggest you sort it out yourself. Or at least try and resolve it in front of a guard.’

‘Bullshit,’ I said, not knowing what else to say.

‘No bullshit. Isn’t that how you people tend to respond? Anyway, if your ‘problem’ doesn’t get too serious, we tend to turn a blind eye.’

I groaned aloud. I wasn’t much of a fighter. The commander nodded at the courthouse.

‘But if things go too far or get out of hand, a prisoner in its basement is what you’ll be.’

Tobe…

‘Don’t even think about it,’ the commander said, catching the look on my face.

We crossed the empty road that split the camp in two, the commander leading us into another alley. We followed meekly, the two Creeps that were our escort trailing behind us. We kept walking. The further we walked, the fewer people we saw. After a while, I came to a stop.

Hemmed in by the towering walls of yet another alley, I had lost sight of the courthouse.