Tim Winton - Eyrie

He snatched the thing up. There was only breathing.

You’re kidding me, right? You’re fucking kidding me. Who is this?

Tom?

What is this?

Tom?

Tiny, feeble, fearful voice.

This is Kai.

Kai?

Yes.

What — mate, what are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.

Yes.

Are you okay? Keely asked, gathering himself a little. The building was quiet. Down on the docks a container hit the deck of a ship with a muffled boom.

There’s a dream, said the boy.

You had a nightmare?

It’s a dream.

Did you call your nan?

She’s busy. It’s work.

You want me to give her a call? I don’t have her mobile number.

It has to be important.

She’d want to know you’re alright, Kai. Wouldn’t she?

A dream, said the boy, is not an emergency.

Well. Okay.

It’s the only job she’s got.

I know, mate.

She has to have the job. Or the people take me.

Keely hauled himself up. He pressed his head against the bricks.

Kai, no one’s gonna take you. You want me to call your nan? I think I should.

No. You can’t.

Okay, Kai. Alright. You want to talk for a bit, until you can get back to sleep?

Yes.

That’s fine. We can talk.

Here?

We can’t just do it on the phone?

The boy was silent. Stayed silent. Keely tried to steel himself against it. He couldn’t be doing this. This would not look good. But the kid held out. Diamond drill-bit silence. Boring into him.

Okay, he said at last. Alright, Kai. I’ll be there in a moment.

Keely switched the light on, began casting about for his shorts, maybe a shirt. The wall furred and buckled slightly. He wasn’t right. Not even close.

Up at 1010 the kitchen light was on. Through the terylene curtain he saw the wiped bench, a mug, a tin of International Roast. The curtain twitched and Kai’s face appeared. Keely gave him a goofy thumbs up and hitched his shorts woozily as the lock clunked and the door sat back. For a moment, the boy was just pale mist in the narrow gap. Keely felt himself being scrutinized, as if the kid needed to make certain it was him. Keely smiled as reassuringly as he could, given the hour. He steadied himself against the gritty wall.

You want me to help you get to sleep?

The boy shook his head.

You want to talk?

Kai scratched his scalp, expressionless. Then he pulled back the door.

Keely hesitated a moment. He was reluctant to cross this threshold but he didn’t fancy standing out here in the walkway in full view at this time of the morning.

He stepped in. The flat still smelled richly of lamb fat. The boy closed the door.

What about a glass of milk?

Kai shook his head.

On the table was the battered library book on raptors. Beside it lay the pad with Keely’s number on it.

Keely sat at the table. Kai stood opposite, hands pressed against the laminated edge at the height of his bare chest. There were tiny purple anchors in the cotton of his shorty pyjamas. Dockers jarmies. And the kid had brand-new football boots. One day, he thought, one day I must take him for a kick. This season I’ll take him to a game.

You had a dream, then?

The boy nodded.

What sort of dream?

Flying, the boy murmured.

I have flying dreams, too, he said scratching his beard. I like them.

The kid looked sceptical.

What happened in your dream?

I crash, said the boy. There’s people there. With only eyes showin. And I can’t talk.

Hang on a sec. What did you crash?

Just me, said the boy.

You crash to the ground?

But there’s people there, with only eyes. All black. And just eyes. Behind them it’s… fire.

Fire. Like a crashed plane?

No.

So… what kind of fire?

Fast. Shooting.

You mean firing ? Was this like a movie, Kai?

The boy rocked a moment, considering. He nodded, but without conviction.

You’re flying. You crash to the ground. And there’s people on the ground. And they only have eyes?

They talk, said Kai, eyes clouded with awe. But, not proper words.

Like aliens, like space people or something?

Kai shook his head.

Then what happens?

They go away.

Where do they go?

They’re kind, I think.

Wait, Kai — how do they go? How do they leave?

The kid twisted his pyjama bottoms intently.

Everything goes away, he said. Soft.

Soft?

Like, no battery.

Ah. Like a game?

The boy champed his lip. Like I die, he said.

Wow, said Keely, leaving no time for this thought to hang there. Then what?

Kai shrugged. I’m laying there and I die.

Then you woke up, right?

He nodded.

And you were here at home, right as rain.

Kai nodded again.

Well, it’s just a dream. You don’t have to worry about something like that.

Sometimes it’s not me.

You mean you’ve had this dream before?

The boy nodded, yawned.

How many times?

Kai looked at the backs of his hands as if calculating. Seven? he said uncertainly.

The boy appeared to have wilted a little. Keely wondered if it was prudent to keep asking him questions. He was way out of his depth already.

But you’re okay now, he said. You’re safe. Everything’s good, eh?

The boy blinked. He was clearly exhausted.

Maybe you should hop back into bed. You want me to sit with you for a bit?

Kai nodded. Then took himself to the bedroom and climbed onto the mattress. A fan oscillated on the side table, pushing the hot, clothy air about. Keely sat at the foot of the bed. Kai fixed on him.

I’m right here, Keely whispered.

The fan droned. Somewhere in the thin-skinned building, a pipe flushed. A can rolled down the side street in the freshening easterly.

We’re okay, Keely whispered, willing it to be the truth.

*

He woke in sunlight with Gemma standing over him. Before he could properly focus on her face and what she was saying, he saw the Bali poster over her shoulder, the waves of coconut palms, the wrongness of where he was. He hauled himself upright on the couch. Dawn light spilled onto the kitchen bench.

Shit. What time is it?

What’re you doin here? she hissed.

I don’t know, he said thickly before catching himself. Kai. I didn’t —

He’s got school, said Gemma. Jesus, he knows not to let anyone in.

As she leaned over him, whispering fiercely, he smelt sweat and coffee and cigarettes. He struggled to his feet. His back hurt.

Sorry, he croaked. He had a nightmare.

He went to your place?

Yeah. Well, no. He called.

Christ, he shoulda called me. What sort of nightmare?

Calm down, Gemma, it’s alright.

You don’t stand in someone else’s place when you’re not sposed to be there and then tell em to calm the fuck down.

Okay, yeah, I’m sorry.

Jesus. Just go, will you.

I think it’s something he’s seen on the telly. The war maybe, or some science fiction thing. He’s alright. He was careful.

Careful be buggered. He knows the rules.

I meant to slip away, he said, busking it now. I just sat here a minute to make sure he was really asleep. I was worried about leaving him here alone.

He registered her flash of anger but before she could speak Kai was in the doorway, looking circumspect, wary of both of them.

Tom’s just headin off, said Gemma.

Keely gave a little wave, but from the kid there was not a flicker.

Still woozy, and with a beach towel around his neck, Keely limped to the shed behind the laundromat. As a pair of welfare mums watched from the second-floor gallery, sharing a fag and a few laughs at his expense, he extricated his bike from the snarl of greasy wrecks and wheeled the old Malvern Star across the carpark at the rear of the building. He wobbled out onto the side street, rounded the corner and noted, as he rolled by the front of the building, his neighbours wan and silent heading for the bus, the train, the boss. The forecourt was baking already, and he was glad to leave the whole place behind a while.