Surviving the Evacuation Page 14

“G’day,” Liu called, and got a nod in return. On either side, both homes were missing their cars. Opposite, a blind twitched, but there were no other nearby signs of life. “Do you think we should barricade the junctions?” Liu asked.

  “Barricade them?”

  “It’s what they’re doing in Vancouver. After what you saw in the outback, what do you think?”

  “I truly don’t know,” Pete said. “Are they putting up barricades in other towns in Australia?”

  “And I don’t know that,” Liu said. “I feel like we should be doing more to prepare. More than just waiting to be told what to do next. Creating barricades seems obvious, but what would we be protecting? If we need them, is it worth staying? But if we are going to stay here, shouldn’t we do everything we can to keep ourselves safe? It’s easy enough to say we should rely on the authorities, but that means Tess, and she’s someone just like me. There’s Mr Thurlow’s,” she added, pointing to an apricot-coloured bungalow with an orange-tiled roof. More neglected than the other houses nearby, the trim on the walls was flaking. The gate was rusted, and squeaked as Liu pushed it open.

  Pete followed her up the path.

  “Turn around,” Liu said.

  “I’m sorry?’

  “Just turn around.”

  He did. And saw the sea, or a close facsimile. The inside of the wall had been painted to resemble a seascape complete with fishing boats, a trio of people surfing, and waves crashing onto a beach along which a family of turtles crawled.

  “His grandkids did that last year, after his wife’s funeral,” Liu said. “They started painting while everyone else was doing the awkwardly polite conversation thing. They wanted their grandpa to live near them. But he didn’t want to leave his wife’s grave.”

  She rang the bell. Waited. Then she knocked. When there was no reply, she picked up a small statue of a wombat holding an umbrella, slid the base aside, and withdrew a key.

  “Mr Thurlow?” she called as she opened the door. “Joey? It’s me, Liu.”

  There was no reply.

  She wiped her feet, and went in. “Check through there,” she said. “Sitting room, kitchen, and then outside. I’ll take the bathroom and bedroom.”

  Memories of the living dead by the plane wreck flashed through Pete’s mind as he walked briskly through the small and dusty sitting room into an equally dusty kitchen. Only the sink looked well used. Outside, the rear garden was unkempt. A few patches of withered shrubs struggled among the shadows cast by a sun-cracked wooden pagoda. He could see how splendid the home had once been, but grief had ushered in an age of neglect from which only a new owner would extract it.

  “Anything?” Liu called.

  “Nope,” he said, walking back to the front door.

  “Good,” Liu said. “Which means there’s only one place he can have gone, his cafe. And I know why, too. Bacon and sausage, two things he’s not allowed on his medication. Two things that means he’s on medication in the first place.”

  She locked the front door, and they headed back onto the street.

  “You know Mr Thurlow well?” Pete asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “Looking out for him was a duty that fell on my shoulders. That’s life out here, you keep an eye out for one another. Mostly.”

  As she led him towards the centre of town, there were more people about. Some neighbours quietly conversed over a wall. Others, couples and trios but rarely lone individuals, pumped tyres and checked engines, but few were straying beyond the borders of their property.

  “No one is driving away,” Pete said. “For all the packing and preparing, no one’s leaving.”

  “Not yet. They heard and saw their neighbours leave this morning, and now they’re debating when they should do the same, while looking for a reason to stay. It’s a hard thing, leaving your home, knowing you’ll never be able to come back.” She raised a hand in greeting to a small group holding an impromptu meeting around a pair of dusty vans.

  “Are you thinking of leaving?” he asked.

  “Scott’s in Europe,” Liu said. “But he’ll be close to an airport. He can make his own way home even if it involves stealing a plane. I suppose they won’t allow him to fly this deep into Australia, but when he lands, a message will be sent to the airfield. No, if I were to leave, if I were to go anywhere, it would be to get Clemmie, and that’s no easy task. Ah, someone has built a barricade, if you can call soldiers standing behind police cars that.”

  “Is that the hospital?” Pete asked. “Where did the soldiers come from?”

  “Twenty soldiers flew in last night to guard the hospital and the solar power plant. Word from Tess is that only half are actually Australian, and half of them are retired. G’day,” she called out, and gave a friendly wave. An older man in a brand-new uniform gave a nod back. The other four stood quietly sweating. Pete hoped that was because of the heat, but the day was still warming up.

  “It’s down here,” Liu said. “Forty years ago, the Thurlows owned a lot of this land. Not the hospital, but those houses, these shops, and a long strip out near the railway. They bought it during a mining slump. Joey said that the history of mining was slumps and booms so they took a gamble, and they won, but not as big as they’d hoped, and not nearly so quickly. They sold off the properties one by one, and used that money to set their kids up in the city. His son has a chain of bakeries, his daughter owns a company that does something connected with monitoring cattle for the big stations. Joey and Magda sold everything, except their house and the cafe. They had a buyer lined up for both, and then Magda died. I suppose Joey’s left it too late to sell, but maybe not too late to get down to his grandkids. I’ll have to have a word with Doctor Dodson. If we’ve got planes landing, we’ve got planes leaving. Maybe we can get Joey a seat. It’s the blue building at the end, on the junction of Thomas and Bromide Streets.”

  The cafe was blue, except where it was windows, but those were covered in over-large photographs of steaming coffee cups, frosty milkshakes, tall glasses of juice, and a homely teapot. The images were fading, but not faded, and shaded by blue awnings that stretched out over the pavement. There were no chairs and tables outside, but there were racks for bicycles, with a sign saying parking for cars was at the back.

  “Looters,” Liu hissed.

  The wooden door was coated in a thick blue-plastic laminate. Someone had taken a crowbar to it, levering the lock from the frame, and leaving nothing but splinters.

  “Can’t see anyone loitering,” Pete said, looking up and down the street. “No one waiting in a car or truck, and they’d have a vehicle, right?”

  “They must have torn through the place last night,” Liu said. She pushed the door. A bell jangled as it swung inward.

  “We should call the police,” Pete said.

  “Tess is busy and half her department have already quit the town,” Liu said. She pushed the door inward and marched inside. “You better not be still in here!” she yelled out.

  Wishing he’d stayed in bed, Pete followed her inside.

  Neat booths lined the walls, with tidy rows of tables filling the space in between. Furthest from the doors was a small register, a trio of fridges, and a closed serving hatch next to a door that was already swinging closed behind Liu. Pete hurried after her, pushed the door open, and saw Mr Thurlow: a short man with a large girth; a hairline that had completely surrendered; a tartan apron over a worn but laundered shirt; a broom and pan lying next to his body. Liu was already kneeling down, reaching for his wrist.

  “Don’t!” Pete said instinctively.

  “What?” Liu asked.

  “He might be infected,” Pete said.

  “He’s not,” Liu said, closing Mr Thurlow’s eyes. “He’s just dead. And for at least a few hours. A heart attack, I’d say. That’s what his pills were meant to stop.”

  “You think?”

  “Broom and hand-brush,” Liu said, pointing to the tools next to the body. “He was tidying up. Must have found
the damage left by the looters, decided to clean, but it was too much for him. Overwork, it’s what I worried would happen. Oh, Joey, why couldn’t you have listened to your grandkids?”

  Pete stood in respectful silence, and let his eyes take in the kitchen. He’d not noticed it at first, but on the ground lay reams of discarded plastic and paper packaging. “The looters must have taken a lot.”

  Liu opened a cupboard. “Empty.” She opened another. “The same.”

  “Wait, what about evidence?” Pete said. “Fingerprints and things like that. We shouldn’t touch anything. And shouldn’t we call the police?”

  “Landlines aren’t working, nor are the mobiles, but you’ve got a point. Hang on.”

  She crossed to a door at the rear of the kitchen. It led to a cramped office. The desk drawers were already open, but Liu crossed to the wall, where there hung a steel-framed child’s drawing of a mountain. She took the painting from the wall, revealing a small alcove behind. Inside was a laptop and a bundle of wires.

  “I said this wasn’t a good enough hiding space,” Liu said, taking the laptop out, careful not to dislodge the wires. “Joey said it was fine because who’d take one of his grandkids’ pictures? Guess he was right.” She turned the laptop on. “Security cameras,” she added. “His daughter set the system up.” She skipped through the footage. “Yep, there, at two a.m. Four blokes came in. Big fellas. Faces covered. They left again half an hour later. And came back in for more, and…” She skipped forward. “And that’s it. They didn’t come back a third time. Joey came in at seven.” She closed the screen. “Maybe Tess can find the looters, but it’s not going to bring back Mr Thurlow.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Pete said.

  “I didn’t know him that well,” Liu said. “When we first moved here, we’d driven all night, and it was half-five in the morning. We saw the lights on. They weren’t open, but Magda, that’s Mrs Thurlow, she insisted we came in. Made a fuss of the kids. Us, too. In the evening, we came back because they’d been so friendly. Magda was doing the books at the booth near the front door. I helped her out. And that’s how I became their accountant, and the accountant for most of the businesses whose owners ate here. This cafe, this was Magda’s dream. Joey liked to speculate. Land, horses, cards. When she got crook, I said I’d keep an eye on him, but you can tell people what to do, you can’t make them listen. Do you think you could find your way over to the hospital? I don’t want to leave Joey alone.”

  “Sure. It’s just up the street. I’ll get—”

  But he was interrupted by a jangle from the bell above the front door. They both headed out of the kitchen and back into the cafe.

  A man stood inside, the door swinging shut behind him. It was the man in the linen suit. Rather, it was a man in a linen suit and panama hat, which he took off.

  “Good morning,” he said. The accent was Australian, but Pete couldn’t tell more than that.

  “We’re not open,” Liu said.

  “I just wanted a glass of water,” the man said.

  “We’re closed,” she said. “Everywhere is closed.”

  The man placed his hat on the nearest table. “I can pay,” he said. “I can pay a lot.”

  “First, the government said no price increases,” Liu said. “Second, money doesn’t mean much. Third, looters went through here last night taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. Fourth, and most importantly, our owner’s had a heart attack, and he’s dead in the back.”

  “Dead?” That seemed to get the man’s attention. “But only from a heart attack?”

  “Yeah, he’s no zombie, but he is dead, and we’re closed,” Liu said. “You want a glass of water, then you want the hospital. They’ve a cafeteria, and Pete’s going that way to get an ambulance. He’ll show you.”

  “You’re Pete, are you?” the man said. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a smartphone. As he did, Pete saw the strap of the shoulder holster and the edge of a handgun.

  “Phones don’t work,” Pete said.

  The man turned to him and smiled. “Cameras do.” He glanced at the phone, but didn’t take a picture. He put it away.

  “Water’s been shut off,” Liu said, “but there’s iced tea in the fridge. You can help yourself. I’m going to the hospital to get an ambulance. Be gone by the time I get back.”

  She started walking towards the door, but that took her within reach of the man.

  “No,” he said as she neared him. He lashed out, a vicious swiping backhand that smashed into her jaw, sending Liu sprawling across a table and chair. “No one’s going anywhere,” he said, reaching into his jacket.

  Pete leaped, grabbing the man’s wrist as he tried to draw his gun. The thug stepped back, twisting around, but Pete turned with him, refusing to let go. The thug didn’t let go of his gun, either, but with his other hand he reached for Pete’s throat. The fingers curled as Pete bucked and twisted. Pete punched out with his free hand, but the blow was feeble. He grasped at the man’s shirt, his coat, then tried to grab his throat, but the thug just grinned, stepping sideways in a broad circle as he squeezed Pete’s throat.

  Pete’s vision narrowed. All sounds vanished, replaced by the throbbing of blood. Pete felt his grip slacken. He saw the thug’s smile grow wide, but then the man’s eyes went wider, his hand went loose, and he slumped to the floor. His temple smashed into the corner of a table as he collapsed.

  Air rushed back into Pete’s lungs. Sound returned. Understanding followed a half-second later. Liu held a glass vase in her hand. The glass hadn’t broken, but from the quantity of blood on the floor, the man’s skull had.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Pete said, coughing. “Yeah, I think so. What…” He shook his head, sucking in more air, quickly sorting through all the questions no one could possibly answer, finally settling for the only one which mattered. “Is he okay?”

  “No,” Liu said, checking for a pulse. “He’s dead. There’s no pulse.”

  “He had a gun,” Pete said.

  Liu extracted the pistol from the man’s holster. “It’s got a silencer. Who carries a gun with a silencer? Who carries a handgun that’s not a cop? What just happened?” She placed the gun on a table, and crossed to the front door. “Did you hear a car?”

  “No. I’m still hearing an ocean in my ears.”

  “I’m going to find Tess, or those soldiers, or someone. You better wait here.”

  She left, and Pete sat at the table on which she’d placed the gun. He didn’t touch it.

  He’d handled a gun before. A hunting rifle on a range six weeks after his post-high-school attempt to join the army. He’d been curious as to how good a shot he’d be, and convinced he’d be a natural marksman. Out of twenty bullets, he’d hit the target thrice, and only once inside the ring. It was that as much as a preference for sleep over early morning exercise that had doused the ambitions of a military life. Sitting in a cafe on the other side of the world, with two dead bodies for company, he couldn’t help wonder if he’d made the right choice.

  Chapter 16 - The Briefest Investigation

  Bromide Street, Broken Hill

  At the sound of an engine, Pete jumped to his feet. Heart pounding, he peered through the glass panel at the side of the door. It wasn’t an ambulance, but something just as reassuring: a police van. Liu jumped out from the passenger side. Inspector Qwong climbed out from the driver-side. Pete stepped aside as they entered the cafe, looking back to the van, expecting other officers to get out. No one did.

  “Is it just you?” he asked.

  “For now,” Qwong said. “Have you seen anyone since Liu left?” She pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, picked up the pistol from the table, ejected the magazine and the round in the chamber. After a brief examination of bullet, magazine, and handgun, and a longer examination of the suppressor, she placed them all back on the table. “Anyone come to the door? Any cars in the street?”

  “No,” Pete said.
“I wasn’t looking, but I don’t think so.”

  Qwong bent over the corpse, checked for a pulse, then stood. “Interesting. And odd. In equal measure. How are you, Pete?”

  “Me? Fine. Sore, but okay.”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “Good,” Qwong said. She walked over the corpse, and into the kitchen.

  “Where’s the ambulance?” Pete asked.

  “Except for the two they took down to the airfield, they’re all gone,” Liu said. “Stolen last night. Probably taken by the medical staff because a lot of them are missing, too, and so are another three of the police officers.”

  “Oh.”

  Inspector Qwong came back out of the kitchen. “Mr Thurlow was like that when you arrived? You didn’t move him at all?”

  “I checked for a pulse,” Liu said. “But that’s all. There’s a recording on the security cameras of looters coming in. Four of them. They made two trips, then left and didn’t come back. Joey came in around seven. Probably so he could get some bacon and sausage. I made sure he had none at home. He saw the mess, started cleaning up, and had a heart attack.”

  “The video is in the office?” Qwong asked.

  “On the laptop,” Liu said.

  Again Qwong left, but was back a few minutes later, laptop in hand. She placed it on the counter, and set it to play.

  “Mr Thurlow says he’s been taking his pills,” Liu said. “I don’t know that he has. Was,” she corrected herself.

  “No cameras in the kitchen?” Qwong asked.

  “Just on the door and the register,” Liu said.

  “I’d say you’re right, that it was a heart attack brought on by shock,” Qwong said. “Mostly the shock we’ve all been in these last few days. Today’s early morning exertion was the final straw. None of these four blokes looks like the dead man. They all look younger, broader shouldered. Miners, maybe? We had a load arrive yesterday. Bussed in and told to wait, but a lot of them didn’t want to. We’ve a crime, a tragedy, and a second crime, all separate incidents.” She closed the laptop. “What about this fella, have you ever seen him before?”