Page 8 of The Vanishing Place
The rain lashed down in sheets, heavy and threatening. Crossing in the rain wasn’t allowed. Dad and Aiden were going to die. They wouldn’t make it to the other side. Then Mum would die too. The baby stirred against her chest, the wild beat of her heart forcing him alive, and five little fingers clutched her thumb.
“I want Mummy,” Tia sobbed.
Effie stared at the river. Meter by meter, Dad moved farther away, pushing his way through the water, the bottom of the backpack dipping into the waves. Dad never left Tia on her own. And never by the water. During the summer, when the sun turned the river bright turquoise, Tia spent hours bobbing and splashing in the shallows,but Dad was always close by. Laughing. Skimming stones. Fishing for eels. Dad never left her. He never left any of them.
Effie wiped a hand across her eyes. Dad was wearing his travel rucksack, the big one with extra pockets that he used for long hunting trips. Effie wanted to scream, to shout for him to come back, but the fight in her had thinned, diluted by the rain.
“Effie.” Tia tugged at her sleeve. “I’m cold now.”
She reached for Effie’s hand, her fingers like ice, and Effie wanted to cry. The cold of her sister, and the tiny warmth of her brother…it was too much. It was too wet and too cold. They needed to be inside. The baby needed milk and warmth and dry clothes. She needed to get him back to Mum.
Mum.
“Come on.” Effie squeezed Tia’s hand. “Let’s go home.”
“But we need Dad.”
“Dad will come soon,” she lied.
Effie took a final look at the river. They were past the halfway point—only one way to go now. Dad always had a smile for Effie. Even if he was busy or tired. Whenever he headed into the bush, he always stopped at the last visible point and looked back, one arm raised, and smiled at her as she sat on the hut steps. But Dad didn’t stop. He kept striding through the water, his body lurching with the current, and a black ache closed around Effie’s heart. His head didn’t turn. He didn’t look back.
“Come on.” Effie guided the three of them back to the cover of the trees.
The crowded ceiling of branches sheltered them, easing the rain as Effie’s insides drowned.
2025
Effie stared atthe young man, their faces separated by millimeters of transparent plastic.
Blair dug her fingers into Effie’s arm. “Holy shit, I think he’s hurt.”
But Effie didn’t move. The young man’s panicked expression rooted her to the spot, his blood-filled eyes wild with fear. It was the same expression that haunted her at night, that woke her up in a cold sweat. The boy, the one from all those years ago, had looked at her with that same frightened expression.
Effie’s every instinct told her to get up. To help him. But the hammering in her heart drowned it all out, and she was a child again. A child, hiding in the bush, her hands pressed to her ears, listening to his screams.
“Effie.” Blair shook her arm. “Effie, we need to help him.”
Her friend’s voice broke through something in her, and Effie turned her head slowly, not quite understanding. Not quite there. Slowly Blair leaned in, closing the gap between them, and touched her forehead to Effie’s.
“You’re not there,” Blair whispered. “You’re safe.”
Effie closed her eyes, letting her friend’s words bring her back to the howling wind and the torrent of rain. When she opened them again, the boy and the bush had gone.
“Well,” said Blair, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Safe might be a bit of a stretch. We’re still stranded on the side of a mountain with a potential psycho outside our tent—again, a stretch. It’s more of a plastic bag, really.”
Effie squeezed her friend’s hand, the moment acknowledged, then set aside. Blair wouldn’t mention it again, and for that, Effie loved her.
“I’m going to go out and talk to him,” said Effie. “I need you to stay here and stop the shelter from blowing away.”
Blair frowned.
“I’ll be fine,” said Effie.
“I know that. It’s the kid I’m worried about.” Blair gave a small smile. “Just…be nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“You know what I mean. Be gentle.”
