Page 45 of All Your Days
“Snakes, snakes, everywhere is snakes. Why there gotta be so many snakes? Lizards, geckos, budgerigaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaars, but always fucking snakes.”
By the time we pull up for camp near sunset, I’m ready to kill him. A slow, painful, merciless death. At least raging at Cale is giving me something to do other than pout about Jacob.
“You’re feeling better, I see?” Malcolm claps Cale on the shoulder when he climbs down from his perch on the trailer.
“Fuck yeah, I am. Right as rain. Could go ten rounds with a big red. Fight a dingo. Smash a jug of Lenno’s grog.” Cale laughs,wrapping his arm around Malcolm and leading him away from the trailer Lou and I have started unpacking.
Considering the big guard now has boundless energy from lying down all day and his friends haven’t been serenaded by him to the point of insanity, we let them disappear, calling them back only at the last second before dinner is ready.
Cale reappears again after everything’s safely packed away in the trailer again for the night.
“Right, that’s it mates! I’ve got it!” He announces, emerging from his tent, he holds a bottle of clear liquid high, like a trophy. “We should have a drink.”
“Yeah, nah, mate. That’s not a good idea.” Lou disagrees, not that we were necessarily invited to the party Cale is suddenly intent on throwing.
Even if we aren't, I have to agree with Lou. Something’s off with Cale tonight. I don’t think he’s fully recovered from his heat sickness. He’s still pale and sweaty and his eyes have had a glassy, wild look to them all night. And he’s been fidgeting. Bad. Even Ryan had enough and thumped him in the arm over it. Cale still kept jittering around, trying to playfight with everyone and generally acting like a muppet.
“What? No, you fuckin’ muppet.” Jacob rolls his eyes, unintentionally throwing fuel on the fire. “You spent the last day sick as a dog from dehydration. Grog’s not gonna help you.”
“Nah, mate. She’ll be right. Just one or two. I’ll share with everyone. Youse fucks’ve been in such a fuckin’ mood. It’ll do us good. It’s a good idea, I reckon.” Cale is determined now.
What I don’t understand is his friends agreeing with him. Well, Malcolm is just as big a dumb arse as Cale is, but Ryan is usually the more levelheaded of the three. Comes with that giant ego of his.
“Yeah, it’s one fuckin’ drink.” Ryan’s eyes narrow at Jacob across the low fire. It’s a challenge—he’s only agreeing to getunder Jacob’s skin. They’ve already had it out once tonight, but I don’t know what it was about. Jacob’s been chattering about with everyone. Everyone butmeobviously.
Jacob doesn’t give him what he wants. Instead, he gets up and stretches—getting undermyskin when he reveals a sliver of skin on his belly when his shirt rides up.
“Whatever, mate. I’m not gettin’ into it. Wake me if you guys get too fucked up for watch. I’m goin’ to bed.” Jacob turns and heads towards his tent, the one right next to mine again.
“Yeah, none for me. Too old for‘at now. Can’t recover like I used to.” Lou stands next to me, waving me up, too.
Thank fuck they said no, giving me an out. You never know what you’re gonna get with grog, and the only thing worse than walking in the sun hungover tomorrow would be swaying on top of the camel.
“I’m out, too.” I say, giving the guards a smile I hope looks regretful. “See you in the morning.”
The three remaining at the fire jeer us when we leave, but they quickly turn their attention to the grog.
“Sleep with your boots on.” Lou whispers, just before we have to part ways for him to go to his tent on the opposite side to mine.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t like people drinking in camps. I know they said just one. But I’ve seen just one turn into too many. Keep your boots on in case you need to boot someone in the face.”
My stomach drops and I look back at the group of men I’ve come to think of as, well, if not friends, then something almost like it. “You don’t think?”
I don’t want to say it.
Lou sighs and pats my shoulder. “Can’t rightly say. Just keep your boots on, ‘right?”
“Yeah. Will do.”
“Good. You sleep well. We’ll be out early.”
Tucking my emergency bag under my pillow, I figure there is zero chance of sleeping well. Not with my woolen jumper and boots on and my knife in my hand. Lou’s words spooked me enough to stay fully dressed, so I’m surprised when I spring awake to sounds.
Strange snarling and wet sounds. Flesh thumping against flesh. And whimpering. Cries. Is that a scream? What the fuck? I blink away the sleep, fighting the pitch black swamping my vision. Really, it should help me identify the sounds, but it just makes them worse.
Has an animal gotten into the camp?
