At last. We’re turning onto the highway.
Oh.
Oh no.
That car at the side of the road. It’s totally burnt. The people in it aren’t moving. They look like they’re burnt too.
I look away.
Josh. I should be watching Josh. Is his breathing getting slower or am I imagining it?
I try not to get distracted again, but a bit further on there are two cars that have crashed into each other. They’re both burnt as well. As we drive past I can’t see any people in them, but next to one is a pile of ash with something sticking out of it.
I think it’s a pair of glasses.
Oh.
Tonya isn’t taking her eyes off Josh. I don’t think she saw the burnt cars. It’s best if she doesn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see more burnt cars ahead.
I decide to try and make conversation. Even talking to a bully is better than thinking about what’s in those poor cars.
‘Where are your parents?’ I say to Tonya, keeping my eyes on Josh.
‘They went out this morning on the fire truck,’ she says, sounding miserable. ‘I haven’t heard from them since.’
I don’t know what to say next.
Perhaps talking wasn’t such a good idea.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Tonya quietly.
I’m not sure what she means. When I glance up, she’s looking at me with a really unhappy face.
‘I’m sorry I called you those dumb things,’ she says. ‘And took your grandfather’s present. And I’m sorry those other two were so mean to you.’
I still don’t know what to say.
Yes I do.
It’s not that simple, I want to say. You can’t bully someone and then just apologise because your brother’s sick and your house has exploded and your gang’s been evacuated and you need help.
I decide to say it.
Before I can, Tonya blurts out more.
‘The only reason I picked on you,’ she says, ‘was to get the heat off Josh.’
I try to work out what she means. The fire hadn’t even started when she first picked on me.
Tonya is gazing sadly at her brother. She smooths his hair away from his eyes, which are still closed.
‘The other kids in the class always made fun of Josh,’ she says. ‘I wanted to give them someone else to make fun of instead.’
Now I understand.
‘So they’d leave Josh alone,’ I say.
Tonya nods.
I can’t believe it. That is so ruthless. Tonya must have rubbed her hands in glee when I arrived, a short kid with an unusual name and an unusual family. Imagine how pleased she’d have been if she’d known there are two of us.
‘What about us,’ I want to say. ‘I bet you didn’t stop to think how we’d feel.’
Oops, I did just say it.
Tonya is staring at the floor of the ute. She looks really ashamed of herself.
We both remember Josh at the same time. We look at him and hold our breaths until he takes a breath himself.
I hope we get to the hospital soon, and not just for Josh’s sake.
Me and Tonya have run out of things to say, and this conversation is feeling really awkward.
Except the ute is going even slower now.
In fact, we’re stopping.
I look at the road ahead and see why.
The highway is blocked by a huge fallen tree. On both sides of us, in what used to be the forest, massive tangles of logs half-buried in ash are glowing fiercely. If we try to drive cross-country we’ll cook.
There’s only one thing to do.
Now it’s my turn.
‘Five minutes is up,’ I say to Felix and Tonya. ‘It’s my turn to carry Josh.’
At least my phone’s good for one thing. It still won’t make calls, but the clock’s working.
Tonya ignores me. Just keeps plodding with Josh on her back.
‘Felix,’ I say. ‘It’s five minutes.’
Felix is walking next to Tonya with his hand on Josh’s neck pulse. He’s listening carefully to Josh’s breathing.
‘Let Tonya carry on if she can,’ says Felix. ‘She’s bigger than you.’
That’s not fair. People should be allowed to help even if they aren’t as big as other people.
Up ahead is the last bend in the highway before town, so the hospital’s at least another kilometre. It’s better if we take turns rather than Tonya getting exhausted and dropping Josh.
I look at Jumble for support. I don’t get any. Jumble is happy in my arms. He doesn’t like being carried by Tonya, and I think he gets jealous when I carry Josh.
Sisters can be a bit selfish sometimes.
Oh well, at least Felix isn’t trying to carry Josh. Which is good. When we get to the hospital he’ll need all the strength he’s got left to supervise Josh’s operation.
‘How are your feet?’ I say to Felix as we plod on.
‘Four out of five,’ he says.
I think they’re probably worse than that. My feet are really sore from this hot road, and I’ve got thick rubber soles on my new boots. Tonya is wearing boots as well. But Felix’s shoes have got thin leather soles and they’re almost burnt through.
I’m glad he thought of stuffing pages from the ute service manual inside them before we set off.
Hey, why is Tonya speeding up?
If she tries to walk that fast she’ll definitely get exhausted. And Felix won’t be able to keep up. I’ve told her he’s got bad legs.
‘Tonya,’ I say. ‘Slow down.’
She ignores me again.
And goes even faster.
I think she’s showing off, trying to impress Felix. She hasn’t got a hope of keeping that speed up all the way to the hospital.
I knew it, she’s slowing down.
And stopping.
And letting Josh slide off her back.
‘Tonya,’ I yell.
Felix drops his medical bag and catches Josh and I rush over and take part of the weight. Felix takes Jumble from me, and I get Josh onto my back.
What is Tonya playing at?
Then I see she’s not playing at anything.
She’s running over to a burnt-out fire truck half-hidden by fallen branches at the edge of the highway. Most of the paintwork is blistered, but not the name of the sponsor written on the bottom of the truck door.
Carmody’s Pest Removal.
‘Mum,’ Tonya is screaming. ‘Dad.’
It’s awful.
Even from here I can see there’s nobody in the truck. Not even blackened bodies. Just ash, all around, still smoking.
Tonya reaches out to yank the truck door open.
‘Tonya,’ shouts Felix. ‘Don’t.’
Too late.
Tonya grabs the big metal door handle with both hands and screams even louder. She staggers back, clenching her hands in agony. Then she sinks to her knees, sobbing.
Felix grabs her and pulls her back onto the highway. He brushes the ash off her legs and looks at her hands. I can tell from his face she’s got burns.
‘Mum,’ she’s sobbing. ‘Dad.’
‘Tonya,’ says Felix gently. ‘We don’t know for sure what’s happened to them. So let’s just think about what we do know. We have to get Josh to the hospital.’
Tonya nods through her tears.
Which is pretty brave, I think.
I’ve got tears in my eyes too.
I keep hold of Josh on my back with one hand and put my other arm round Tonya.
Just for a moment.
I think it’s what Zelda would have done.
Now we’re in town.
I can’t believe it.
The main street looks like it’s been bombed.
All that’s left is rubble and smoke and ash and tangled wire and twisted sheets of metal and bits of wood that look like they used to be shop signs. The mobile phone tower that used to be on top of the post office is lying on the road and th
ere isn’t a post office any more, just bricks.
Bricks everywhere.
Black.
And burnt bodies.
Oh.
I look at the bricks instead. Which I don’t understand. I get why all the wooden houses have gone, but bricks are meant to be strong. They’re meant to be fireproof. You make fireplaces from bricks, so why has the post office gone?
And the video shop.
And the hardware shop.
And Mr Aitken’s chemist shop where we were going to get some cream for Tonya’s hands.
Even Jumble looks like he’s in shock. He was enjoying being carried in Felix’s medical bag. Now he’s whining and staring at the rubble where the butchers shop used to be.
Poor Tonya does a loud sob, even louder than the ones she’s been doing all the way into town.
Her parents’ shop is gone too.
Then I see the worst thing. At the other end of the main street. Right under where the sun is big and red behind the smoke.
The hospital.
Gone.
Felix gives a loud groan.
We just stand here, stunned.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep Josh on my back. He keeps slipping and each time it’s harder to hang onto him.
Two people, a man and a lady both covered in soot, come slowly towards us through the rubble. As they get closer I see they’ve hardly got any clothes on.
‘Is there an emergency hospital?’ says Felix to them. ‘An emergency medical centre?’
They look at us for ages as if they don’t understand the question. Then the man shakes his head and they move slowly away.
I know what Felix is thinking. I’ve seen it on TV. After disasters, the army arrives in huge helicopters with food and drink and bandages and portable operating theatres, and they set up emergency medical tents.
I look around.
No army.
No helicopters.
No tents.
The few people I can see don’t look like they could help us set up an emergency medical centre. They’re mostly dazed or crying or hunting through the wreckage of houses, calling people’s names.
Felix checks Josh’s pulse and his breathing, and gives another groan, a quieter one this time. I’ve never seen Felix look so exhausted.
‘I think we’re losing him,’ says Felix.
My first thought is to make sure Tonya didn’t hear that.
She didn’t. She’s standing on the other side of the street, staring at where her parents’ shop used to be.
I look around at what used to be the town, trying to think what else we can do. Now. Before it’s too late.
Suddenly I see something glinting on the hillside above where the hospital used to be. The whole hillside is black except for one strip of green. One little unburned patch of trees.
It’s like a memory of how the town used to be.
And in that one green gully, sunlight is glinting off a window.
‘Felix,’ I say. ‘Could you do the operation in a house?’
He looks at me and for a while he doesn’t seem to understand the question.
I point.
Felix looks up the hill.
Because he’s so exhausted he needs time to think about it.
Then he nods.
Now we’ve got a problem.
We’re inside the house. The power is off. So is the water.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ says Felix.
We drink from the toilet cistern.
The windows in the bathroom are small and not much daylight is getting in, so Felix decides the kitchen is the best place for the operation.
There’s another problem.
Felix hasn’t got any of his pills.
Silently I beg his hands to stop shaking. But they don’t. And Felix can’t start operating on Josh until they do.
I ask him if aspirin or vitamins will help. He says no. And I can’t find any other medicine in the kitchen or in the bathroom. Only antiseptic cream and bandaids.
All we can do is finish the preparations.
And hope.
Carefully we lay Josh on his back on the kitchen bench. We take his shirt off.
I find some disinfectant under the sink and pour it into a bowl with some cistern water. We wash Josh’s chest with it, as gently as we can because Josh is hardly breathing.
At least when a person’s unconscious you don’t have to worry about tickling them.
‘Knife,’ says Felix.
I check all the knives in the drawer. The sharpest one is a small fruit knife, which Felix says will be big enough.
‘Tubes,’ says Felix.
He explains we need two tubes. One must be non-bendy and about as wide as my thumb. The other must be bendy and about as wide as my finger.
Under the sink Felix finds a plastic funnel with a non-bendy nozzle.
‘This’ll do,’ he says.
We look everywhere in the kitchen for a bendy tube and don’t find anything until I spot one attached to the juicer.
‘Good girl,’ says Felix.
The tube is stained orange with juice, but Felix says that won’t matter.
I disinfect the knife and the tubes. Felix disinfects his hands, scrubbing them with a vegetable brush.
They’re still shaking.
Please, I say to them silently, just stop for five minutes.
But they don’t, and when Felix checks Josh’s breathing, I can tell from both their mouths it’s almost too late.
Josh’s is blue. Felix’s is desperate.
Felix stares at his trembling hands and I can see him thinking of the thousands of times he’s been able to depend on them in the past. And how much he wishes he could now.
I have a thought.
I try to make it go away by concentrating on the sound of Tonya sobbing in the next room where she’s lying down with antiseptic cream on her hands like Felix told her to.
When that doesn’t work, I try to block out the thought by listening to Jumble complaining that dogs shouldn’t be locked in bathrooms when people’s lives need to be saved.
When that doesn’t work, I tell my thought to Felix.
‘I could do it,’ I say quietly.
Felix looks at me.
‘If you tell me how,’ I say.
Felix frowns, and for a fleeting moment I think he’s going to put me in the bathroom with Jumble.
Instead he hands me the vegetable brush.
‘While you scrub up,’ he says, ‘I’ll tell you a story.’
It’s a real-life story about the time Felix was in the Polish forests with the partisans in 1944 and 1945, after he had to leave his hiding hole.
‘Gabriek joined the partisans to fight the Nazis,’ says Felix, ‘and took me with him. I couldn’t fight because of my legs so I became an assistant to one of the doctors. And one day we had so many wounded, I had to take bullets out of people myself.’
I stare at Felix. That’s amazing. He was only a couple of years older than me.
‘Keep scrubbing,’ says Felix, glancing anxiously at Josh.
‘Sorry,’ I say, and plunge my hands back into the bowl of disinfectant and scrub my fingernails even harder.
‘Before I made my first cut into a wounded man’s leg,’ says Felix, ‘the doctor gave me a piece of advice. He said, don’t think about mistakes you’ve made in the past. Don’t worry about what might happen in the future if this goes wrong. When your blade cuts into the skin, just think about now.’
Felix looks at me and I nod.
I understand that story.
‘Pick up the knife,’ says Felix.
I pick up the fruit knife.
Felix points with a wobbly finger to the side of Josh’s chest.
‘See that pimple next to the bruise?’ he says.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘I want you to push the knife in just below the pimple,’ says Felix. ‘Push it in until the first letter of the brand name on the blade is level with th
e skin. Then make a cut to just above that mole. The one there, halfway down the bruise.’
I stare at the blade and the pimple and the mole.
‘Understand?’ says Felix.
I nod.
‘Now,’ says Felix.
For a second or two my head fills with thoughts of bush mice and me at Josh’s funeral in handcuffs.
I make the thoughts go away.
I push the knife into Josh’s chest.
It only goes in a bit.
‘Harder,’ says Felix.
I push harder. The knife goes in a bit more. Then suddenly it slips in easily. I stop before the brand name touches the skin.
My hand is wet with blood.
I hesitate.
‘Now,’ says Felix.
I cut down to just above the mole.
‘Knife out,’ says Felix.
I pull the knife out.
Blood is everywhere now. And so is Felix. He pushes a finger into the cut and makes the hole bigger. He pushes the nozzle of the funnel into the hole and slides the bendy tube into the funnel. He puts his ear to Josh’s chest and jiggles the tube into Josh bit by bit until suddenly something gushes out of the tube.
More blood.
Much more blood.
Felix snatches up a plastic bucket and lets the blood gush into it.
I think I’m going to faint. When Felix told Tonya that Josh had a build-up of fluid in his chest, he didn’t say anything about the fluid being blood.
Felix is looking at me and his eyes are shining.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ he says.
Why, I want to scream. We’ve killed Josh.
I wish I could go back into the past. To before I did this terrible thing. To before I ever tried to be brave and determined.
But I keep quiet. And an amazing thing happens. The gushing blood stops. Josh does several big hiccups and some very big gasps.
And suddenly I’m glad I’m here with Felix.
I’m glad we’re not in the past.
Because Josh is breathing now.
‘Now,’ says the medical officer to Tonya. ‘The helicopter will leave without you if you don’t get on it now.’
I can see Tonya doesn’t want to.
She wants to stay here in the big emergency medical tent and keep looking for her parents. I don’t blame her. I would too.
Even Josh wants to keep looking for them, and he’s on a stretcher.