“Where did you get the water?” Calli asked innocently as she carefully spooned the hot mince into her tired mouth. Declan smiled and watched her eat, a look of concern on his face at Calli’s shaking hand and how utterly wrecked she appeared right then, like a little girl who had cried for far too long.
“I filled the bottles in that stream we passed a while back. You might not have noticed. You’d just face planted in it.”
“Oh, that one,” Calli said, annoyance shadowing her eyes. Her chest hitched occasionally from crying so hard and it was pitiful. Everything caught her up during the ordeal of walking, not only the scrapes and falls or the fact Declan had shocked her, but the awfulness of her situation and the hopelessness of everything. It laid her bare and left Calli open and wounded, easy pickings for self-doubt and despair.
Since arriving at the clearing, Declan had done everything, leaving Calli to clean herself up alone at a spot nearby which he kindly marked out with a yellow tee shirt on a stick, to help her find her way there and back. He put up the tent, sorted the food and laid out the sleeping bags all by himself, while she pretended to take ages washing and going to the toilet when actually she sat for most of it and cried some more.
She thought perhaps he hadn’t realised until she saw him looking at her so sadly. “I’m ok,” she said, staring at her unfinished food and willing him to look away. When she looked up again, Declan’s eyes were still on hers.
“Cal, I...”
“I’m not talking about anything!” Calli shut him down instantly, her throat and chest offering another pathetic hitch just to complete the picture. She offered him her food to finish and he shook his head, even though Calli knew he wanted it. She lay it on the ground in front of him and crawled silently into the tent, kicking off her unlaced boots on the tarpaulin in the porch. Declan gave her the sleeping mat and Calli lay down on top of her bag and closed her eyes. Overwhelmed with life, she dropped quickly to sleep.
Calli woke up hours later when it was already dark. The bed under her seemed squashier and much nicer than usual and she lay for a moment, trying to work out what was different. The surface underneath was smooth and slippery and after a time of mental gymnastics, she understood it was her sleeping bag. Fully clothed and pleasantly warm, she seemed to be covered up by something else instead. Reaching out sideways with tentative fingers, it wasn’t long before Calli contacted material and worked out it was Declan’s fleece. He was fully dressed and lay on the cold tarpaulin, his sleeping bag opened out and spread across them both. Between them, they generated a decent amount of heat.
Calli put her palm flat against the boy’s broad back and spread her fingers. He stirred slightly and rolled onto his back, almost crushing her hand and wrist as she moved them quickly out from under him. Calli listened hard to the night noises, hearing creatures moving around outside the tent, things buzzing and flying and the odd call of one nocturnal species to another. It was their world and she was an interloper. She felt daunted at the thought of what she would do once Declan left for home. She couldn’t stay out here by herself. Even in her random, fanciful world, she wouldn’t be able to survive. Declan had a wealth of knowledge about navigation, survival techniques, natural bush remedies and what did she have? Nothing. Calli knew she would have fallen off a ridge and broken her neck a dozen times already if it weren't for the boy sleeping soundly next to her. It was hopeless. It was all futile.
She itched her right forearm, clawing at the gash she did deliberately with the blade, a lifetime ago. It itched all the time and the lowest part of it oozed green stuff. The cuts on her hands from the many scrapes over the last few days seemed to heal quickly, but not this abomination, this proof of her unworthiness to be granted breath. Calli started suddenly as she caught the distant sound of barking and her heart felt as though it lurched in her chest. Sitting up she disturbed Declan, who reached instinctively for her in the darkness. “I hear dogs,” she whispered, panic issuing from her in bright vibrations and flooding the tent.
“They’re about a kilometre away,” Declan replied after listening for their noise. “It’s fine. They’re not pig hunting, we both know what they’re here for. Maybe they smoked their own stuff and got high and are being dumb, winding the dogs up. Either way, we can’t go anywhere now so we need to just relax.”
Reaching for Calli’s shoulder, he pulled her back down, slipping his arm around her and pressing her face into his warm chest, furry from the fleece and outlandishly comforting. Calli lay down stiffly, determined to listen out for danger and starting to recognise the irritating messages from her bladder to her brain. Reluctant to get out of the tent until daylight, Calli squeezed her eyes tight shut to stave off the unwelcome sensations and woke up many hours later to daylight, birdsong and the sound of electronic music.
Declan was groggy and disorientated, fumbling around one armed in the area to his left. Calli sat up, her hair on end, resembling a banshee and after a glance in her direction, the boy snorted with laughter. The noise stopped and fully awake now, Declan sat up and scrabbled under his shorts, which were laid on the floor of the tent. The stiff gaiters he used for protecting his lower legs from brambles and insects were flung in the corner, unfortunately, touching the side of the tent. They channelled a pool of condensation onto the tarpaulin. Peering underneath the sleeping bag they shared, Calli could see Declan wore a pair of long green fleecy pants, but his feet were bare. It made her feel cold and she dropped the sleeping bag back over them and lay down.
Declan settled next to her and put his fingers to his lips. Then he lifted a mobile phone up to his ear and after a beat, spoke into it. “Hi Mum,” he said, his tone pleasant. “Sorry, I fell asleep and couldn’t remember where I put the phone.”
Someone on the other end chatted for a while and then Declan interjected, “Yeah, I thought I’d check in as soon as I got a signal. I’m shifting on soon so will probably be out of range again.”
Calli lay deathly still, not wanting to make any sound that would alert Declan’s mother he had company. It was really not worth the aggravation. Her bladder complained bitterly and she fervently hoped the conversation would be quickly over.
“No, I didn’t stay at the hut in the end,” Declan was saying, “these two guys were already there with dogs. They’ve got a stash of marijuana hidden on the south side so I wanted to stay out of their way.” A pause. “No, of course they didn’t tell me that! I overheard them. That’s why I didn’t want to spend the night there.”
Calli looked across at him in amazement, thinking to herself, does he have to be so damned honest all the time? She knew if his mother even picked up a hint he wasn’t alone, she would ask and he would certainly tell. Calli redoubled her efforts at keeping quiet. But she did need the toilet. She shot Declan a pained look and he nodded. Still listening to his mother, he crawled across to the front of the tent and undid the flap one-handed, managing to do the net and the front porch flap, before crawling outside. Relieved, Calli followed him, changing direction after she had put her cold boots onto her feet and making her way over to the yellow tee shirt, still dangling from the stick. It felt damp to the touch. Calli went to the toilet in the designated place and buried her toilet roll. She wasn’t sure whether to go back to the tent or not, afraid of making unnecessary sounds, but nor did she want to wander and get lost. So she stood by the tee shirt and waited patiently, looking up at the canopy and glimpses of the cloudy sky above. The sunshine peeked through at intervals, warm and reassuring, but increasingly obscured by dense cloud cover. Calli wondered how much fun it would be, tenting in the rain. About as much as it is now, she figured disconsolately.
Birds flitted overhead, curious about her. They landed on branches nearby, observing her calmly through their decorated faces. She heard a tui and a bell bird up high and spotted a wax eye peering at her through its tiny bead of an eye, centred in the freaky, feathered replica of a giant eyeball emblazoned on its face. It flew off as Declan approached, climbing the steady incline with his boots on, but unlaced. “You done?” he asked and Calli nodded. Declan went round behind the tree and let out a sigh as he urinated for what seemed like ages. He had no shame whatsoever and it made her feel as comforted as it did embarrassed. The teenagers had become even closer than perhaps brother and sister, purely through their extreme physical contact and the nature of their constant battle with the elements. “Come on,” he said to her as he re-emerged. “I’ll show you a stream.”
Calli slipped and slid around behind him as Declan carefully descended one of the lesser ridges which surrounded their high point. He turned and held his hand out to her, catching her fully as she plummeted down onto him. Letting her slide down the front of his body until her feet touched the rough surface, Declan gave her a dazzling smile and held onto her hand while they negotiated the awful supplejack down to the stream.
It wasn’t a huge water course, not a rushing river by any means. In full flood, it would be a decent torrent, but following a drought it was a hidden trickle, running down a small gorge in the rock, furrowed out in wetter times. Declan stripped off to his boxers and plunged in, laying down on the rocky bed and letting the shallow water run over him. His skin became mottled and pink with the coolness of it and he lay his head back so the water could pound the top of his head. Calli stood at the edge feeling conflicted. She wanted desperately to wash and feel clean. Declan was great about turning his back, but he said they were leaving this morning, and Calli instinctively knew he wouldn’t want to wait while she bathed after him. She also knew he wouldn’t allow her to stay up here alone.
This is stupid, she told herself furiously. It’s him that’s all about propriety and appropriateness, not me. So she stood on a rock and stripped off down to her bra and knickers. The knotted bed of the stream was surprisingly soothing to the soles of Calli’s blistered feet and she plunged in, feeling the shock of the cold water on her skin. The ice seemed to pervade into her bones, numbing her fingers and toes almost instantly. It was an effort to prevent herself crying out. Calli bravely lay flat in the stream, allowing the water to dance and bounce over her body, pulling her hair down alongside her shoulders and splaying it out around her like a scantily clad Ophelia. It was glorious. Calli closed her eyes and revelled in the sensation.
Using her frozen fingers to rub the water out of her eyes and nose, Calli became aware of a pleasant fruity scent. Then she saw a patch of white bubbles dance past her, breaking up over her elbows and skipping down the stream and away. Alarmed, she sat up, laughing out loud at the sight of Declan sat up a few metres behind her, washing his hair as though he was in the bath at home. He smirked at her and lay down to wash the white foam from his hair.
“Aren’t you polluting some poor farmer’s water?” Calli called to him and he sat up, shaking his head like a dog and shrugging.
“Not terribly,” he called back. “It has miles to go before anyone drinks it. They probably filter it first.”
Calli’s face betrayed a curious longing and Declan stood up in the water, picking his way down to her over the stones underfoot. He settled himself behind her carefully and produced the coveted bottle of body wash, which he evidently slipped into his pants pocket. Calli heard the sound of liquid being squeezed from the bottle and the sensation of something running down her head. Declan massaged the mixture into her hair, picking out leaves, tree bark and other questionable substances, flicking them into the water next to them to continue their journey down. Declan’s fingers were relentless, rubbing the chemicals into Calli’s hair and scalp deftly. Only Calli would now know that hands which held and kept a rugby ball with such determination, or scribbled eagerly with a pen in class, could be so gentle and caring. Declan’s hands stopped her from slipping multiple times, made food for her and wrapped around her at night when she was cold or scared.
The sinking feeling in Calli’s stomach alerted her to the increasing attraction she felt for Declan. It made her feel hopeless, knowing he could never be interested in her. His fingers tangling in her unruly curls was intoxicating and almost unbearable. Calli turned to face her unintentional hairdresser, a look of pain on her face. To her chagrin, Declan laughed. “Lay down, you egg,” he chuckled, pulling her backwards to lie in the stream, her head resting on his thigh. “You’ve got foam all round your face. You look like the cutest daisy I ever saw.”
His eyes twinkled and glittered in the bursts of sunlight overhead. It was infectious and Calli smiled back at him. Declan leaned over her, supported on one elbow while he scooped the water over her forehead and ran it back through her hair with his hands. When he was satisfied, he wiped the outer edges of her face with the backs of his fingers. He wedged the bottle of liquid behind him, but it made a sudden burst for freedom, bouncing and clattering past him in the steady stream. Declan caught it deftly and stood up, his boxer shorts sodden and clinging to his frame. Holding out his hand to Calli, he hauled her up, leading her to the bank. “I’ll nip back and get your toothbrush if you want. Dry out for a bit and then get as dressed. I’ll bring a towel back with me.” He slipped his feet into his boots and headed off down the slope, surefooted and steady. Calli stood on the bank and drip dried, surprised at how warm the bush felt after her ice cold bath. Her hair shed droplets uncomfortably down her back, causing her to shiver and so she reached for her tee shirt and put it on over her wet bra. It was a dreadful sensation, pulling dry clothes over a wet body and underwear, feeling the water soak into the tee shirt in noticeable patches, but it was better than standing on the bank, half naked in broad daylight.
Declan returned quickly, carrying toothpaste and brushes, his towel flung over his shoulder. With a smile, he handed Calli her brush, holding the end of the paste and his brush in his mouth while he towelled her hair dry. He had also managed to grab a hair tie from her wash bag and pulled her locks into a pile on top of her head and wrapped it around, as though she were an invalid. Calli’s hands shook as Declan squeezed paste onto her brush and her lips began to turn a little blue.
Back at the tent, Calli started in surprise at the sight she hadn’t seen before, having left the tent and walked straight up the slope. Thin lengths of rope were strung around the clearing from tree to tree and clothes dangled off them in full view of the watery sunshine. Calli touched the leg of a pair of her tracksuit pants. They were damp, but nearer to dry than wet. Most of her clothing was there, underwear included and she felt momentarily embarrassed. “Have you washed all this?” she asked Declan in amazement, “When?”
“Yesterday evening after you crashed. Only in the stream but I got all the dirt and bush crap out of it all, mainly yours as I’m going back to a washing machine in a few days.”
Calli’s face dropped at the reminder of her pending isolation and fear stroked at her heart. Declan saw but pressed on regardless, “I thought we could hang here today and then set off tomorrow. I’m due home on Friday so I really need to get you as far south as I can, but give myself enough time to come all the way back and get the car. I’ll have to say goodbye on Thursday at the latest.”
Calli nodded, sadness filling her and chilling her bones, even more than the cold stream water ever could. She smiled woodenly at Declan and thanked him for his kindness, retreating into the tent to hide the ready tears which fell unbidden. But she was out of luck. He followed her in, noisily opening the flap she just closed and giving her a chance to wipe her face on her forearm. She saw from his expression he knew. “Cal,” he tried gently but she shook her head and waved him away.
“I’ll be fine,” she lied.
Declan sat down on his sleeping bag and crossed his legs, pulling at a thread in the quilting of the material beneath him. “Will you at least let me take care of your arm?” he said kindly, pulling her right arm towards him smoothly and turning it over. “It’s getting infected, you know that, don’t you?”
Calli nodded on both counts. Kneeling up, Declan dug around in his rucksack and pulled out a small, plastic tub. It was green and said, ‘Manuka Honey’ on the front. Calli quickly pulled her arm back in horror.
“Don’t be silly,” Declan snatched her arm back. “The genuine stuff works on most things. When I leave you on Thursday, you take this with you, ok?”
Calli gulped and her eyes filled with tears again. She had to acknowledge she dreaded the parting. Taking one of the last baby wipes, Declan scraped away the flimsy scab which the cold water softened and ignoring Calli’s yelps of pain, scraped out the awful green stuff which pooled in the gaps between the folds of skin. She yanked on her arm to release it, but he was far stronger and didn’t stop what he was doing. It smarted so severely she could almost not bear it.
As Declan carefully spread the honey into the open parts of the cut, Calli froze as the sound of the pit bulls came again on the gentle breeze. Declan heard it too but didn’t stop what he was doing. “It’s ok,” he said softly, “they got pretty close last night, but I reckon they were still about five hundred metres or so away.”
Calli’s eyes opened wide.
“That’s half a kilometre,” he reminded her, perhaps hoping to still her nerves. “I specked it out a bit after I did the washing. I’ve abandoned the idea of going to the clearing Dad and I found.”
“Because of me?” Self-pity was barely disguised in Calli’s statement.
Declan slapped her playfully on the arm. “No, not because of you! I’ve got this hunch they’re actually using that clearing to grow their stash.”
Calli felt sorry for the boy. He had harboured this need to revisit somewhere special to him and now these awful men had appropriated it, turning it into a distasteful place, growing drugs on the ground that should have been sacred and treasured because a dead father shared happy memories with his son there. Declan produced a length of bandage from his emergency first aid kit and skillfully wound it around Calli’s forearm, securing the end with a safety pin. “Try and keep it dry and we’ll put the honey on it a couple of times a day. At least then when we part company, I’ll know it’s beginning to heal. You can’t have it infected if you’re living rough. You’ll get really sick.”
“How did you know?” she whispered, shame forcing its way into her gut.
Declan knitted his brows and looked stern. “I saw you do it,” he said, as though still amazed at Calli’s stupidity.
She pulled her arm back and looked at him accusingly. “What do you mean?” The question came out far too nastily.
Declan sighed, “I know I’m going to sound stalkerish, but if I stand at the kitchen window and look down, I can see you sitting at your desk...” he breathed out heavily, continuing, “sorry, this is hard. I’ve been praying for you for ages. I hate it when you sit and cry. Once I saw that little blonde girl come in and scribble on something you’d been working on and then the next day, you got into trouble for not handing in your maths homework. I figured that was what she ruined. I’d see you at school, laughing and joking and you’re a different person from the one who sat at that desk and looked out so sadly. I wish I could have helped, or changed things for you. I feel like I’ve let you down, not prayed hard enough or something. I’m sorry.”
Calli felt too bereft and raw to be angry. Besides which, she didn’t have the energy. “It was the first time,” she gushed, her voice faltering. “The blade fell out by chance and I accidentally cut myself. It just went from there really. It actually helped in a weird kind of way, but afterwards...afterwards it hurt like hell.” Calli smiled wanly. “You know what though? Since I’ve been with you, out here, I haven’t needed to do it. I don’t know if that’s because I’m away from home and that was the problem or because I don’t feel so alone.”
Calli squeezed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to deal with the internal pain and failing miserably. Declan watched her intently and when she stole a sly peek at his face, it was sympathetic and not condemning. “I’m really worried about you,” he confessed. “Calli, those guys terrify you as much as they do me. If you carry on trying to get south with no money, you’ll meet more, exactly like them if not worse. Mum didn’t just ring to ask how I was doing and tell me about Levi. She asked if I’d seen you. Babe, your picture is all over the news and social media. Every cop in the region is searching for you. The longer you stay missing, the more certain they become that something’s happened to you.”
Calli kept her face down, not wanting to acknowledge Declan’s words. She had no answers. But when he suggested she went home with him, she recoiled violently, “I can’t! You’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Dec. If you understood, you wouldn’t ask me to do that!”
“But surely there’s a better option than just running away?” Declan’s tone took on an element of begging and Calli knew for sure it really mattered to him what happened to her. She smoothed her hand over the top of her head in desperation, seeing the same emotions in her faithful partner. Calli reacted by throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around Declan’s sturdy neck, feeling instantly safe in the returned embrace. The thought of parting company with him was more than painful and she tried to put the rising emotion away from her, enjoying the moment of closeness with him, drinking in his scent and storing it in her memory for another time.
Declan rubbed his hand across her back, holding her tightly and sharing in her confusion for a moment. “I wish we could have been friends sooner,” Calli whispered into his neck and felt him nod in agreement. Reluctantly she allowed her hands to slither away from his neck and down his chest, sensing the resistance in Declan’s arms as she sat back down on her legs. His brown eyes looked moist as she pulled away, her heart connecting with the conflict raging inside him. As for the past sixteen years, Calli locked her emotions safely away, not understanding anything about her life and simply doing her best to forge a path through circumstance; just like always.
Declan tried to cover his own sadness and how mortified he felt, by trying to plan their last unhurried day together. “How about I cook us some breakfast and then we can leave our gear here and go for a wander?”
Calli acceded, not that she was particularly keen to venture anywhere that involved kilometres of irritating supplejack trying to leg her up constantly and bush lawyer tearing at her flesh. But she wanted the day to be special before Declan led her down the mountain towards a life she could not foresee.