The Dead of Night Read Free Page A

I was still comfortable travelling through it, but I felt less important. I felt that I wasn't much more significant than a rabbit or a fox myself. As the bush took back the farmlands, I would become just another little bush creature, scurrying through the undergrowth, barely disturbing the land. In some strange sort of way I didn't particularly mind that. It felt more natural.
    We took our time, keeping well away from the road, walking across paddocks in the shadow of the hills, using the trees for cover. We didn't talk, but there was a new mood in all of us, a new energy pumping through our blood. We walked all the way to the ruins of Corrie's house, then took a break there, raiding their little orchard for afternoon tea. A lot of the apples were nibbled by possums and parrots but there were enough whole ones for us to stuff ourselves, and we did. But we
paid a price an hour later when we all started ducking behind trees; the apples had gone through our alimentary canals like a flood in Venice.

    Still, it was worth it.
    We hung around the Mackenzies' place until well after dark. We figured we were pretty safe there, because with the house just a pile of rubble there was nothing much left to attract the soldiers. I'd thought I'd feel depressed at the sight of the wreckage, but I was too nervous at the thought of what lay ahead. To be honest (there I go again) I'd already stopped dreaming noble dreams of rescuing Corrie and Kevin; instead I was thinking more about keeping myself alive. I even had the grim idea that my body might soon be looking like Corrie's house, splattered across the landscape.
    The worst thought of all though—the one I stamped on every time it reared its dark filthy head—was that Corrie might be dead. I didn't think I'd be able to cope with that. I was scared that finding Corrie dead would be the end of me. I didn't know how it would finish me; I just had this deep belief that I could not continue living if my mate Corrie had been killed by a bullet fired by an invading army in the middle of a war. Surely I couldn't survive that? Surely no one could survive that. It was too far beyond normal.
    From the moment Homer had suggested we go into town and find Kevin and Corrie we'd banished the thought that either or both of them might have been killed. The quest for them had given our lives meaning again; we weren't in a hurry to rip that up and throw it away.
    At eleven o'clock we started out for Wirrawee, walking in pairs on the grass verge of the road, about fifty metres between each pair. We'd hardly left the Mackenzies' when Lee, to my surprise, took my hand and held it in his warm grasp. That was the first time in weeks he'd taken any initiative with me. I'd been making the running, and although he'd responded OK most of the time, it had made me feel insecure, as though maybe he didn't care all that much. So it felt good to be walking along hand in hand, under the thick black sky.

    I was keen to say something, any trivial little thing, just to let Lee know how happy I felt to be wanted again. I gave his hand a squeeze and said, "We could have used the bikes, to the Mackenzies' at least."
    "Mmm. But not knowing how much things might have changed ... Better to play it safe."
    "Are you nervous?"
    "Nervous! It wasn't just the apples that had me dropping my daks."
    I laughed. "Do you know, that's the first joke you've made in weeks."
    "Is it? Have you been counting?"
    "No. But you've seemed so sad."
    "Sad? I suppose I have been. Still am. I suppose we all are."
    "Yes ... But with you it goes so deep, and I can't reach you."
    "Sorry."
    "It's not something to be sorry about. It's just the way you are. You can't help that."
    "OK, I'm not sorry then."
    "Hey, that's two jokes. At this rate you'll be doing stand-ups at the Wirrawee nightclub."

    "Wirrawee nightclub? I think I missed that. Our restaurant's the nearest thing to a nightclub in Wirrawee."
    "Remember how everyone at school kept complaining