Lachlan Walter - The Rain Never Came

‘Shit, ah, g’day,’ the stranger said.

He sized us up. He smiled, gap-toothed and wide. I guessed that Ruby and I didn’t pose much of a threat.

‘I haven’t seen you around before,’ he said. ‘You folks must be new. My name’s Jacko—welcome to the camp.’

And then he held out his hand for me to shake.

Jacko’s kindness was the only thing that made that first night bearable. We didn’t ask why he had taken a shine to us; grateful for a friendly face after everything that had happened, we simply soaked up and basked in his hospitality. He helped us carry our meagre possessions into the abandoned shack adjoining his, helped us cut up the ruined tent we had found, helped us hang the pieces curtain-like around our new home so that we could have a modicum of privacy.

All around us, the shadows grew thicker as dusk approached.

‘Bugger, I forgot,’ Jacko said from nowhere. ‘I’ve got something for you both.’ He shuffled out of the shack, leaving Ruby and I to keep working.

‘You okay?’ I asked, even though I knew the answer.

She didn’t reply. We worked on in silence. I wanted to comfort her, but didn’t know how.

‘Yoo-hoo, anyone home?’ Jacko soon called out.

I was grateful for the interruption. And despite our tiredness, Ruby and I both smiled as he forced aside the broken door.

‘Here,’ he said, pulling something from his pocket, limping across the shack.

It was a rusty hand-cranked lantern, a tiny godsend.

‘Cheers.’

‘No worries.’

Jacko and Ruby started to knock up a makeshift bed, using the bent poles we had found and whatever strips of tent were left over. I cranked the lantern until I thought my wrist would break, finally hung it from a nail that had been driven into the wall. Jude lay flat on the raw dirt floor, watching us work, occasionally wagging his tail. Sometimes, he would look at us so pitifully that you would swear he had never been patted or scratched.

When the bed was done, I gratefully took a seat. Ruby and Jacko joined me; we sat side by side, it was a bit of a squeeze.

‘Think of it as cosy,’ Jacko said.

‘I’m not complaining.’

And it’s true, I wasn’t. If it hadn’t been for Tobe’s absence, I would have called myself vaguely content. The bed was more comfortable than I had expected, we had enough water to see us through until morning, and it didn’t feel like we were in any immediate danger. As well, Jacko had generously shared his rations, refrained from prying, and hadn’t asked any rude questions.

It was almost—almost—peaceful.

‘Excuse me,’ Ruby said, yawning loudly, surprising herself, smiling shyly.

I caught her yawn as easily as getting sunburnt. It had been a long day.

‘Okay, I’ll leave you be,’ Jacko said, laughing. He made it to his feet.

I joined him, held out my hand. ‘Ruby and I can’t thank you enough.’

We shook.

‘No worries, Bill. If we don’t look out for each other, what’s the bloody point?’

‘Too right,’ I said.

Jacko’s old-fashioned attitude made me smile. The world would be very different if everyone thought as he did.

‘Ruby?’ he asked.

She looked at him with sleep-heavy eyes.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’

She smiled. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’ She reached down, scratched Jude behind the ears. ‘Go on, good boy.’ He jumped up, licked Ruby’s hand, ran to Jacko, sat on his feet, and looked at him with love.

‘I’m off, then. Pleasant dreams.’

We bid him goodnight as he disappeared behind the makeshift curtain with Jude scrabbling at his heels. I heard him wedge the broken door in place, enter the alley, and call out to someone in a booming voice. Jude barked playfully. Someone else laughed.

Ruby once again yawned loudly. She stretched her arms, cracked her back. Still standing, I smiled to myself as she cottoned on to the fact that she had the bed to herself.

‘Good one,’ she muttered. She fell back. She shuffled around until she was lying flat.

‘I’ll, uh, take the floor, I guess.’

She didn’t answer. I sat down, threw my legs out straight, propped my pack behind me. Holes in the roof let moonlight in, a beautiful shining silver-blue.

‘Goodnight, Ruby,’ I said. ‘Sleep well.’

‘You too, Bill,’ she replied in a thick voice.

She was soon snoring. I got undressed and wormed around until I was comfortable enough, lying flat with my pack as a pillow.

The floor was more a slice of jagged earth than a decent place to kip.

‘Any port…’ I said to myself.

I stared at the sky through one of the holes in the roof. A spluttering orange glow occasionally broke the smear of stars and inky black; the insomnia sounds of the camp slowly became clearer, voices cheering far in the distance, soft as campfire whispers. I strained to understand it, never quite making it out. Ruby didn’t stir; oblivious to everything, she kept snoring.

The hand-cranked lantern hanging from the wall started flickering. A moment later, it went out, plunging the room into darkness.

‘Tobe,’ I murmured, barely knowing what I was saying.

His absence had never made itself felt so strongly. Instead of huddling in the dark, he would have cracked a joke or hurled a childish insult at me. He would have done something—anything—to make our new home bearable.

In the same breath, I cursed his name and hoped that he was okay.

The sound of Ruby crying out freed me from the semi-coma I had fallen into—I was getting to my feet before I was really awake, the memory of my wounds a faraway thing. I toppled, of course, my injured leg giving way. I caught myself on the wall, barely missing a rusty nail that stuck out like a jouster’s bayonet.

I screamed in pain, but managed to cut it off when I saw that Ruby was still asleep.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered.

I found my stick and steadied myself. Ruby started thrashing around, drenched in sweat. She said Tobe’s name once or twice, others that I didn’t recognise. Everything else was a garbled mess.

It was hard to deny the absurd urge to ask her if she was all right.

I crouched beside her, stroked her head, and told her that everything would be fine. She settled a little but kept crying. I did my best to soothe her. Lost in the dark, time seemed to stand still. I began to cry with Ruby, hoping that she would be okay under my watch. People can only be so adaptable; they can only stretch so far. The world needs kids like her not to break; it needs them to keep bouncing back, no matter what happens.

I didn’t know whose life I would rather have.

At some point, Ruby stopped crying. I stood up, worked the cramp out of my limbs, tried to ignore the pain in my leg.

I was awake; wide awake. I needed a smoke.

I felt my way past the makeshift curtain, limped across the shack, managed to shove aside the broken door, entered the alley. The murmuring quiet was a little louder, but was still a far-off sound; the orange glow still spluttered in the sky; the alley was empty, the buildings lining it ruined. I breathed deeply, sucking in the cold night air. I patted my pockets, cursed myself for forgetting to bring a possum skin with me.

‘Bill, you okay?’ a voice asked.

I squinted, took my glasses off, cleaned them on my shirt, put them back on. A tiny red ember was all I could see.

‘It’s me, mate.’

Tobe? How?

The ember moved slightly. A shadow detached itself from one of the walls. Jacko stepped into a pool of moonlight, smiling crookedly around his bush tobacco.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked.

He pulled another hand-cranked lantern from his pocket, fired it up and held it aloft. Two cracked wooden crates emerged from the gloom, a patchwork cushion on one, a small metal flask and two chipped glasses on the other.