DANIEL SLOUCHED IN HIS CHAIR.
“Everything OK?” she asked.
He was pulling apart a cheese stick, leaving a stringy pile on the table in front of him. The plate of sliced apple was untouched. He’d been quiet in the car on the way home from school, and she wondered what was the matter. She hadn’t said anything about tonight, and had carried on with determinedly false cheer since arriving here two days’ earlier, even going as far as putting Oriental lilies on the dining table and buying tea towels for the kitchen. She felt the beginnings of a headache behind her right eye; the artifice wearing thin.
He looked up at her from under his fringe.
“You promised.”
“What?”
Daniel’s eyes filled with sudden tears. “This morning you promised we’d go for ice-cream. You said so in the car.”
Elena was aghast. The air seemed to go out of her. All the cupboard doors were open. She’d been checking for where Tommy kept the cups – one ceramic and one melamine – but couldn’t find any others. Mostly, though, she’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Anderson that it had completely slipped her mind. She put down the cup she’d been drying, and turned around.
“You still want some?”
He glanced at her, doubtful.
“Really?”
She nodded. Then, suddenly, threw aside the tea towel. “Come on. I can’t find anything in this stupid kitchen anyway.”
“Yay!”
He slid from the chair, and was gone from the room in an instant.
Elena stood there a moment longer, felt a sob catch in her throat. She didn’t know why – perhaps the fear of what lay ahead. She still had no idea what she would tell Tommy later – though she had to come up with something fast – as an excuse to get out of the house. She exhaled heavily, gathered herself, but the weight of it all squeezed her chest like a vice.
It was just after eleven. Elena sat at the end of the couch and watched Tommy asleep at the other end. She squeezed his foot gently.
“Go to bed, sweetheart.”
“Yeah.”
“Tommy?”
He stirred, but made no attempt to move. When he spoke again his voice dragged.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Do you want me to get you a blanket?”
“Yes.”
Elena couldn’t believe her luck; how she would not have to explain her departure at this time of night. She went to the linen closet and came back with a blanket. She looked down at him, both hands tucked under his chin, as though he was praying, sound asleep. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.
“I have to go, darling. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this, but everything’s going to be alright. You’ll see.”
Elena moved towards the hallway. She thought she glimpsed movement from the corner of her eye through the gap in the door of the room where Daniel slept. But when she turned again there was nothing there. She kept her eyes on the front door and snuck outside as quietly as possible.
The engine switched off; it was deathly quiet. She checked the rear-vision mirror and saw the glowing eyes of the black-tailed wallabies at the edge of the clearing, the faint outline of their snouts. Up ahead, the isolation building shimmered like a mirage in the pale moonlight. Beyond it was a bank of Norfolk pines and the beach, obscured by the untrammelled, dense vegetation.
She was seated in the driver’s seat, trying to get comfortable in the confines of the car. Her back had gone again, and her eyes watered with every movement, as though her body might yet dissuade her of this folly. The neon numbers on the console glowed like a warning: 11:30pm. Thirty minutes to go.
She checked the mirror again, caught her expression in it. Exhaustion. Trepidation. Doubt. They were all there. “It’ll be over soon,” she whispered, wishing she could believe it. She must have slept – if only for a few minutes – because the next time she caught a glance of the dashboard clock, it was 11:42. Suddenly, she was bolt upright, and looking around for the Taser. Remembering then that she’d left it in the bag on Tommy’s dining room table. “Shit,” she muttered.
Elena found a pen torch in the glove box, pocketed it, and got out. There was just enough light to see where she was going. She crossed the clearing and went around to the left of the building. The wind was subtle but sharp. Everything – buildings, paths, vegetation, trees – was bathed in the moon’s eerie light. She guided herself alongside a bank of marram grass, and was about to take the crumbling path which led to the main door when a noise made her turn.
A bike. The screeching of brakes. Then a bell rang. Tinny. Unmistakeable. Elena pivoted back around, her entire body tensed. Her eyes followed the sound, came to settle at a spot not far from where she stood, where the outline of a child on a bike became visible.
Elena’s hand shot to her mouth. “Daniel!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”
He jumped off and ran towards her. “Mama.”
“You were supposed to stay with Tommy,” she said, folding him into an embrace. “He must be so worried about you.”
Daniel looked up at her, shaking his head. “It’s OK, mama. I left him a note.”
“But how did you know I was coming here?”
“Because of the story,” he replied, as though the answer were obvious. “About the monster in the tunnels.”
Elena rolled her eyes. The national park was a short ride from Tom’s place down a gravel track. She might as well have drawn Daniel a map with X marks the spot. She would have taken him back to the car, and left immediately, but for the headlights which had crowned up on the ridge. Her heart lurched. There was nowhere to go but inside.
“All right, then. Come quickly,” she said. “We need to get you somewhere safe. But you have to do everything I say. OK?”
“OK.”
He was still looking up at her, a small smile playing at his lips, like nothing really mattered as long as they were together.
They went quickly along the path, the bike left where it had been discarded. When they reached the door they stopped. Elena’s head was turned, staring back in the direction they’d come.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered.
The boy was pressed to her hip, one hand holding a gather of her skirt. “It’s possums.”
“I don’t know,” said Elena. She put her arm around him and stepped in front.
A figure approaching, scuffling along the path.
“Who’s there?” she demanded, eyes still staring. “Anderson?”
A gust coming off the sea made the window panes in the doors rattle, then silence again.
Elena pulled a pencil torch from her pocket, tried to press it into the boy’s hand. “Take this. Get inside.”
“No. I want to stay with you.”
“Go!”
She was on her toes then, a hand at her back, muscles tightening into a spasm. Agony. Yet the harder she squinted the less she could make out, just a tall shadowy frame approaching at a pace now.
And then a voice. It was calling her name.
Not Anderson.
“Elena. It’s me.”
She shook her head. “Tommy?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing here?”
He was almost upon them now. “I found Daniel’s note. What are you doing here?”
Before she could answer, the boy had run to Tom, thrown his arms around his waist. “I knew you’d come.”
“Well, he shouldn’t be here,” she replied sharply.
Tom pulled Daniel in tight, squeezed his shoulder. “You alright, mate?”
The boy nodded, triumphant.
“Just go, Tommy,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, scanning the darkness beyond. She thought she heard more footsteps. “I haven’t got time for explanations.”
“Well, I think I deserve one.”
“My dad’s coming,” Daniel said quietly.
Tom stared down at him, uncomprehending, then back at her. “Elena, for God’s sake —”
She tried the door handle, pulled it with both hands, felt the well of panic in her gut. It opened with a long creak. The weight of it pushed against her shoulder, nearly toppled her backwards.
“I’ll explain everything,” she said, her voice thin and high. “But we have to go inside now.”
“No, Elena. Let’s go. We can talk about this at home.”
“I don’t have time to argue,” she said. “You can leave, but we’re going inside.”
Inside, there was a moment of hesitation, inertia, while their eyes adjusted to the darkened space. They stood facing each other, a long squeal from the rusty door. It clanged shut behind them.
“What are you doing here?” asked Tom.
“I’m taking measures.”
“And by measures,” he said carefully, “you mean the dad, right?”
Elena began to pace, but stumbled in the dim light. She reached out for the wall and stood there, still and afraid. “It’s the only way, Tommy. Something has to be done about him otherwise this will never end.”
He grimaced, as if everything finally made sense. “So that’s why you stayed behind the other morning? You called him after we left?”
“What else could I do?”
“Go to the police. Tell them everything.”
“They can’t help. They said as much.”
A brief pause. “And he’s coming here?”
“That’s the plan, yeah.”
“When?”
“He’s on the way,” she said, agitated. She fumbled the torch from her pocket, lit the ground. There was enough light to make it unnecessary, but it reassured her. “There’s a tunnel down in the basement. You’ll be safe down there. Until —” She moved her hand to her mouth as if to stop the words, but it was too late.
“Until what?”
She exhaled.
“Elena?”
Finally, in a firm voice: “What I should have done a long time ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
Elena motioned to Daniel, shook her head.
Tom looked down at the boy, tension in his neck. He leaned down and kissed him on top of his head, pulled himself upright: “I won’t let anything happen to either of you,” he said.
She felt a fresh well of tears, knowing it was a promise he would not be able to keep. They stood there for a few seconds longer, an awkward silence, then she moved across the room towards the stairs. Moonlight streamed in through the tall windows to the right, created pools on the concrete floor, bounced off the whites of their eyes. Along the walls, photographs of the dead, haunted, watchful. She swallowed down the rising fear.
“I’ve never been in here. What is this place?” Tom asked, his voice low, distorted.
‘It used to be a morgue. Lots of people died in here. Horrible deaths, smallpox and tuberculosis, other stuff. They buried them down at the beach but the tides came in and washed the bones away.” She was talking too much, jabbering really, spooling between exhaustion and resolve. “I’m really sorry I dragged you into this, Tommy. I wish things could have been different for us. I wish … ”
“Let’s just get through this first,” he said in a tone which invited no discussion. “We can talk later.”
She glanced back at him, but his eyes were on the boy. And she felt his kindness once again, his absolute devotion, and it made her feel terrible. The truth was, there would be no more talking. There would be no later. He was just trying to help, but at what cost?
When she spoke again her voice was a hoarse whisper. “It’s not too late, Tom. You can still go.”
“I’m not leaving,” he said hotly.
“OK,” she said finally, reluctantly. “It’s down here. But watch your step. The floor’s uneven.”
“Can we go home, mama?” Daniel’s sweet voice out of the blue. He’d been unusually quiet, just listening. Taking it all in. She couldn’t see his face, but heard the words, so hopeful, so full of longing.
“Soon. Really soon.”
Elena hesitated at the bottom step, remembered a switch, felt for it. A crackle of electricity and a light came on. It was a dim bulb, flickering, throwing the scantest of shadows against the walls. The smell was the same: gunpowder and damp, an odour of rotting wood from the frame around the door on the far wall. Above it, a lamp inside the niche, long extinguished.
“This is it,” said Elena.
Upstairs, the screech of metal, an opening door.
Anderson.
“Wait here a minute.” Tom spun around and hurried back up the stairs, disappeared in an instant.
“Tommy, no!”
Elena frozen, put a hand to her chest. Her eyes were on the stairs. She stood motionless for what seemed like ages, not blinking, just holding onto the boy as tightly as she could.
A scuffling.
“Tommy?” she called.
Nothing. Time stopped, then started again in a wash of noise: shouting, clattering, angry words.
“Just gonna walk out of here without my kid,” Anderson shouted. “Are ya fuckin’ stupid?”
And Tommy’s reply, a scream of pain. The sound filled the air, filled her chest, then silence. She wanted to call again – to go up there – but couldn’t move. He’d killed Tommy and now he was coming for them. No, she thought, correcting herself, she’d killed Tommy, she’d killed them all. Daniel squeezed her hand, brought her back. It was all up to her now, just as she’d planned. A deep breath. For courage.
“Come quickly,” she said.
Elena led Daniel to the door. She tried the handle, pushed it down without resistance, a soft squeal from the hinges. It opened easily.
Daniel hesitated, stepped back. “No, mama,” he said. “I don’t want to go in on my own.”
“It’s OK. Just go down the main tunnel and find a big rock to hide behind. Look, you can take this so you can see where you’re going. I promise I won’t be long.” She slipped off the wrist strap, pressed the torch into his little hand.
“No,” he said again.
For the first time since she’d had him she saw a profound fear in his eyes. She felt her resolve waver, just for a moment, heart throbbing, a stabbing pain in back. In that instant, she wanted to run back up the stairs, far away from here. As far as they could go.
Do not be afraid. The bunyip’s words in her head.
Whether real or imagined, it hardly mattered. The memory filled her with fresh purpose. And she reached down to kiss Daniel on the forehead. “You’ll be safe in there,” she whispered, taking in the musty smell of him, so familiar and loved. “I’ll come and get you as soon as I can, alright?”
His head was pressed into her shoulder. He tugged at her sleeve.
“What?” she asked.
“I love you, mama.”
Elena pursed her lips, kissed him again, fat tears dripping onto his hair. It was the first time he’d ever said it. Though of course she knew it, the words spoken in that dank sad room had an intensity which she could hardly bear. I love you too. She didn’t even know if she’d said it out loud.
The light flickered, seemed to come back brighter, stark brightness.
“Go now.” Elena pushed him gently through the open door. “I love you,” she said softly. Then louder. So that no matter what happened, he would always know how she really felt. “I love you, baby.” She swallowed down a sob, which came from the deepest place inside her, and hefted the door shut, waving him one final goodbye.
Elena spun around, felt a cold breeze against her skin. The room was eerily quiet. Empty. She turned back quickly, began to feel along the lintel for the knife. After a few moments she found it, wedged in a crevice. She slammed the wood with her fist. It groaned. She punched again, at least half a dozen times, until pain speared through her hand, rivulets of blood running down her wrist, until finally a huge chunk splintered and fell, glistening diamond light, the stubbed knife within it.
She fell to her knees, hands in the dirt, grappled for it amid the rubble, and clambered up again. She had to get upstairs, urgently. There was no way she was going to stay down here while Tommy was left to face Anderson alone. Unarmed.
“Ella,” said the voice from the top of the stairs.
It was too late. Elena pulled up to her full height, tried to lock her knees.
Flicking light on the stairs. The boots came first, heavy things like the army used to issue. Then worn jeans and an old jumper. And there he was, standing at the bottom step, puffed up like a peacock, a short stocky man, no more than five six, with sallow pockmarked skin and a receding hairline. How disappointing, she thought. The object of her terror was like a suburban dad, an everyman.
“Where’s the boy?” he said.
She shifted slightly, felt the spasm in her back. “You didn’t think I’d actually bring him?”
“You think I’m that fuckin’ stupid? I’m not here for him anyway.”
He stepped forward. Elena saw the veins pulsing in his neck, deep blue in the dim light, the cold eyes. The face of a man with nothing to lose.
“Why did you do this?” she asked, her voice surprisingly calm. “Your mates, the phone calls, the visit to the school. I know you don’t want him back. So why? What was the point of it all?”
He was looking at her, arms by his sides, his face almost soft. Then the smirk. “It’s what I do.”
Elena stared at him. “That’s it?” she asked, bubbling anger. “You put us through hell, terrified your own child …” She could barely get the last words out, white heat behind her eyes. “Just for fun?”
“Pretty much,” said Anderson.
The voice which came out then, low and calm, didn’t sound like her own. “You’re nothing but a fucking animal.”
Anderson took another step towards her, slowly, deliberately. “Oh, yeah? You think you’re so much better than me. The princess in her fancy fuckin’ house with her nice car and her pretty clothes.” He was no longer smiling, so close now she could smell his rancid breath, the sweat coming off him. “Couldn’t have a kid of your own, could ya? Had to steal someone else’s. Couldn’t stop your husband running off with some poofter. You’re no better than me. You’re nothing but a fraud.”
“How did you —” She swallowed down the words. It didn’t matter how he knew. None of it mattered now. “You think I’m anything like you? All you’ve ever done your whole life is hurt people. You and those cretins you call your friends. Not even your own wife was safe from you. Let alone your son.”
Anderson didn’t reply. He held her gaze, pure hatred.
“I’m the fraud?” she hissed. “No, that’s you. Pretending like nothing touches you, that you’re nothing like the rest of us. But for a smart guy, you still haven’t worked it out, have you? The reason why you hate me so much.”
Pinhole eyes, bloodshot. His thin cracked lips pursed tight, a snort escaping. Despite his menace, she saw the flash of curiosity. He wanted to know. It enraged her. After everything that had happened, this was still just a game to him.
“Love, Nathan. He’s my son, and he loves me. You can do anything you like to me, but you can’t change that. And you can’t make him love you, because he never did and he never will.”
She’d been cruel – her words vile – and felt herself washed in a wave of shame. But his eyes betrayed not a flicker of emotion, as though they were as dead as his soul. It was that realisation, she supposed, which made what came next all the easier. Kill or be killed. She drew the knife and plunged it into his neck.
“Burn in hell,” she said.
But the knife bounced back, jarred her arm, knocked her sideways. She’d missed, couldn’t believe it, at that distance. Only she hadn’t. The tip of the blade had glanced off his clavicle bone, skimmed along the pale skin of his neck. As she righted herself, she saw a stream of blood, like a drawn-on line, appear on his skin.
The knife was still in her hand, gripped so tightly it had sliced into her palm, blood dripping onto the floor. Anderson lurched forward, his cold hands gripping her wrist, her arm. Both grappling for it.
“Fuckin’ whore!”
“You’ll never get him back,” she panted.
“Fine by me,” he said. “But I’ll make sure he never has you.”
He elbowed her in the neck, grabbed the knife. Elena saw it raised, saw the beautiful colour of it. Her back went and she fell hard, her knees crashing to the cold stony floor. Anderson was above her, smiling again. She felt the blade go in, a spear in her gut.
A laugh, gleeful. It bounced off the walls, magnified, seemed to settle on her skin like a fine mist. Elena felt the stones pressing into her back, the ice-cold air on her cheek. She was looking up at Anderson. He hadn’t moved, hands on his hips, feet spread. She’d only been out for a few seconds, but it felt like a lifetime. She tried to sit up. Her arms would not work.
Anderson raised one boot, allowed it to hover for a moment, then brought it down on her chest, no pressure, just rested there, as though he were preparing to wipe it clean. He was gazing down at her. “You know,” he said. “You were right about one thing – the kid really did love you. In another life I might have allowed you to be happy, together in that big house. You and him and that mutt.”
“I knew it was you,” she said in a weak voice.
Still smiling, so proud of what he’d done.
Elena was gurgling, trying to speak.
He removed his foot from her chest, leaned down. “I told you not to mess with me but you just kept pushin’, like a typical fuckin’ woman, just like my missus, push, push, push. But I sorted her out. And now you’re sorted, ya stupid cunt.”
Elena didn’t hear him go, just heard the groaning of the old building. A sigh, like the haunting songs of the Boonwurrung. She raised herself to her elbows, managed to roll over.
“Oh, God help me,” she said, holding a hand to her stomach. “Please don’t let it end like this.”
She scrambled in the dirt, her fingertips grasping rubble, tiny stones pressed into her palms. It was cold, damp earth, soft glowing light clinging to the stone walls and throwing beautiful patterns across them. The knife was close, obsidian shadows creeping into the corners of her vision. She was fading now, but still up on her elbows, head tilted upwards, taking drawling gasps. Still hoping for a miracle. Then the light flickered and, without another moment’s pause, went out, leaving her in darkness, vanquished.
Alone.
Daniel could hear shouting, crashing sounds. He hadn’t gone far into the tunnel, only to the first rock before he’d circled back, too scared to go any further. He listened hard at the door, trying to make out words but they were muffled. Then he heard a terrible noise which he couldn’t mistake. A scream from his mother.
He wrenched the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the flickering light. Then he saw her. She was lying on her side in the middle of the room, one hand outstretched in his direction. She wasn’t moving.
“Mama?”
No reply.
“Well, well, well,” another voice said from the shadows. “What have we here?”
He knew it instantly. Panic welled up in his throat. He began to shake, and cry softly.
“Ma?” A tiny voice. “Please wake up.”
“Get over here.”
Daniel looked over to his dad, the monster from his nightmares, but in the dark he was no more than a shadow in the corner.
“Tyson,” he barked. “I said get over here.”
“That’s not my name,” Daniel said shakily.
“I don’t fucking care!”
Fluttering light hurting his eyes. Inside it, a figure charging across the room, grabbing him by the scruff of his T-shirt, forcing him towards the stairs. Daniel crying, kicking, screaming for his mother, biting down on the arm around his neck. Spit at the corners of his father’s mouth, the wide eyes, as the boy’s teeth sank deep into his flesh. A cry of pain, then his grip loosened enough for Daniel to struggle free.
“You killed Rafi. I hate you!” Daniel kicked out hard, heard the crunch on contact. Then he sprinted for the stairs.
“Come back here, ya little bastard.” His dad closing on him, the sound of his panting seemed to fill the room. It hung in the air.
He was almost at the top of the stairs when he heard the scream, followed by a loud thud. His gaze darted over his shoulder, but his eyes couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. He felt his legs go from under him. Heart pounding, he turned for a better look. His dad was lying at the bottom of the stairs, face up, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Behind him a knife lay in the dirt, the blade catching the blinking light, and there at the entrance to the tunnel stood the bunyip.
“I knew you’d come back.”
“I have always been here.”
Then it walked over to his father and stood over him.
“Is he dead?” Daniel asked.
The monster leaned forward. Daniel thought for a moment that it might slice his dad with one of his razor-sharp claws, but it just pawed him gently.
“It is done,” it said in a low voice.
Then it stood to its full height so that the top of its head nearly scraped the ceiling, and started walking towards the tunnel, and Daniel wanted to follow but his legs wouldn’t work.
“Don’t go,” he whispered.
In the doorway, it turned and studied him. “I will always be here for you. When you close your eyes, you will see me in your memory. But I can no longer stay here. This is your home, not mine.”
“Don’t leave me.”
The monster moved into the tunnel and pulled the door half shut. After a few seconds, it said: “You do not need me anymore, Daniel. Someday, when you are a grown man, you will see that you never did.”
And with that, it shut the door to the tunnel, leaving him alone. He had no idea how long he sat there. He tried again and again calling out to his mother, and Tommy too, but no sound came from him. Until, eventually, he heard a small voice.
“Mama?” he whispered.
No reply.
He remembered the torch, discarded by the tunnel door. But he couldn’t make his legs work. In any case, he was too scared to go back down there. “Mama!”
From behind him, a soft grunt. “Daniel.”
He looked up to see Tommy coming towards him, his face streaked with blood, a hand held to the side of his head.
“I thought you were gone,” Daniel said, his voice dissolving into tears.
“No, son.” Tommy pulled him into an embrace. “I’d never leave you and your mum.”
Daniel was shaking uncontrollably. “He hurt her. She’s not moving.”
“It’s alright, love,” Tommy said. He was shaking too. Daniel could feel the rattle of his chest through his shirt. “I’ve already called the police and an ambulance. They’ll be here any minute now.”
A voice rasped from below. “Daniel.”
They turned their heads in unison.
This time, louder. “Daniel.”
The lights below came back on.
Mama.
“Mama,” he said.
From the dirt below, she gave a soft grunt.
Daniel slid down the stairs, and ran to her side. He heard Tommy coming down after him.
“I thought he hurt you, mama,” he said. “You weren’t moving.”
Mama tilted her chin up and gave him a little smile, her face covered in dirt. Tommy kneeled down beside her.
“Tommy,” she whispered.
“I’m here.”
“I thought he’d killed you,” she said shakily.
Daniel looked at him, and could tell from his expression that he was in pain, and he was trying to be brave for them.
“Just relax now. The ambulance is on its way.”
Daniel took her hand, clutched it tightly in his, his heart still racing.
Then, sirens. The noise filled up the silence.
“Let’s get out of here,” Tommy said.
He lifted mama into his arms and got to his feet, his face scrunching up with the effort. He began to move towards the stairs.
“Hold on to the back of my shirt, Daniel. So you don’t fall over.”
They went back the way they’d come, and around to the car park where a bunch of cars were coming down the hill with their flashing blue and red lights. Then there were people everywhere, urgent voices, hands lifting him into an ambulance and placing him on a stretcher beside his mother. He pushed a wisp of her soft hair away from her face, and nestled into the nape of her neck.