Lachlan Walter - The Rain Never Came

‘Why?’ I asked no one in particular.

Tobe looked at me, his face worried. ‘You okay?’

I couldn’t help laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ he asked.

‘You are, Tobe—you’re such an animal.’

He didn’t really understand. ‘Hang on, Bill. I did this for you, to make up for what I’ve done.’

Despite the violence, the madness and the bullets whizzing above our heads, I could see that he wanted his words to be taken seriously.

I couldn’t help asking myself a stupid question: why now?

‘I didn’t ask for this, Tobe.’

He opened his mouth, ready to argue with me. I waved around pathetically, almost had my hand shot off.

‘How could you think that this is okay?’

Tobe stammered, unable to answer my question. Ruby kept crying. The firefight raged on.

‘I needed a diversion,’ Tobe said, as if that was justification enough.

‘And you just assumed that I’d be okay with it,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You assumed that I’d just come along like always.’

‘Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get out of here?’

My smile was all the answer he needed.

And then something exploded in the direction of the spotlight, showering us with dirt. The gunfire kept on, but it was less intense now. I craned my neck, blinked grit away, looked to the spotlight. The gunfight had become almost entirely one-sided, the heavy crack of the Creeps’ weapons answered by one last holdout, pinned down, outgunned, overwhelmed.

‘Last chance, Bill,’ Tobe said. ‘Come on.’

‘Haven’t you been listening?’

‘Yeah, of course I have. How many times can I say I’m sorry?’

That was the moment when I knew that things would never change.

‘Now, come on,’ he said. He looked away, looked to the alley. ‘Ruby? You take the lead, you’re the smallest and the fastest,’ Tobe yelled, oblivious to my cold smile of satisfaction.

It felt so good to finally know.

He shuffled around so that Ruby could worm past. She looked at me, looked at Tobe, reluctantly did as he said. He shoved her on, harder than was necessary.

‘Move it!’

She started crawling, didn’t look back. I whispered a goodbye. I heard the last holdout scream. It could have been pain; it could have been anger. Either way, his time was short. Tobe started to slither after Ruby. I didn’t move.

‘Bill, let’s go,’ he said, looking back at me.

‘No.’

Tobe froze. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.’

‘I’m not coming.’

His eyes bugged. As I had hoped, seeing the look on his face made it all worthwhile.

‘Tobe, I’m tired of being hungry and thirsty all the time.’

He didn’t say anything. I guessed he was thinking about grabbing me by the scruff and hauling me along. After all, he had already done it once that day. But we both knew he couldn’t drag me after him fast enough to escape the Creeps.

‘And I’m tired of following you. I’m tired of having to follow you. Who are you, Tobe? Look what you’ve done.’

He flinched away from my words, wouldn’t meet my eye, and looked ahead instead. Ruby was almost at the alley. He manned up, looked back at me. I twisted the knife.

‘I don’t have to worry about what might happen, because it’s already happened.’

I thought of Louise’s smile, and the fact that she might still be alive. We could be together…

‘I’m sorry,’ Tobe said.

He looked me in the eye. He was crying, silently. I didn’t shed a tear.

‘I don’t care anymore, Tobe. I honestly couldn’t give a shit.’

‘But…’

‘I’m done.’

It felt good to say.

Another explosion came from the direction of the spotlight, more death and more insanity caused by Tobe’s recklessness.

The gunfire stopped.

‘And we’re done,’ I said in the sudden quiet.

That felt good too.

Tobe and I stared at each other for what I knew would be the last time. We didn’t really need to say anything more. Despite everything that had happened, there was still that instant knowing—that silent click—that only happens when you’ve been mates for years. It’s that ability to know what someone’s thinking by the way they flick the ash off their bush tobacco, the way they shake their head, the way they squint in the sun.

‘Now, piss off,’ I said.

He smiled a crooked smile. I returned it in spades. He looked away. Ruby had made it to the alley and was waiting in the shadows. He shook his head, making up his mind.

‘Catch you later,’ he said over his shoulder as he started crawling away.

‘No worries.’

What else could I say?

Thanks must first go to Mia, my beautiful Mia. Without your feedback, encouragement, enthusiasm and love, The Rain Never Came wouldn’t exist. I couldn’t have done it without you.

Thanks must also go out to Rose and Steve—a son couldn’t ask for better or more supportive parents—and to Lucy, the best little sister a brother could have. Who would have thought that a long ago move from the suburbs to the bush would have helped create a book?

An extra special ‘thank you’ goes out to all the fine folk at Odyssey Books, but especially to Michelle. Your careful eye, attention to detail and flair for editing made the book what is today, and your endless patience with my innumerable questions will always be appreciated. And, of course, thank you for picking it up in the first place and giving a budding author a chance.

Thanks, as well, to Alexis and Chris, who supervised and supported me during my PhD days. Your expect feedback helped The Rain Never Came move from an idea to a reality, and your guidance through the world of literary theory and criticism allowed me to invest the book with a rich and undeniably ‘Australian’ flavour.

Thanks to Matt for the inspiring images and for being my brother in science-fiction, and to Merlin for all the good times and for collaborating on the musical side of the publicity machine, and to the rest of the fellas: Andy, Craig, Riah, and Jules. I couldn’t have asked for a better bunch of mates. And thanks to everyone at BAAG, and especially to Lindy and Paul—your patience with my odd rosters and on-off hours gave me the freedom I needed to just get it done.

Lastly, thanks go out to you, dear reader. Without your interest in Australian science-fiction, we wouldn’t have our own particular Antipodean take on the genre.

Lachlan Walter is a writer and nursery hand (the garden kind, not the baby kind), who has completed a PhD in Australian post-apocalyptic fiction and national identity. He writes science fiction criticism for Aurealis magazine, reviews for the independent ‘weird music’ website Cyclic Defrost , and is currently writing a serious book-length story cycle about giant monsters, as well as a science-fiction western. He loves all things music-related, the Australian environment, overlooked genres, and gardening.