‘I’m out getting something to eat. Stick the billy on. Tobe.’
I groaned aloud; Tobe’s company was the last thing I wanted. I headed into the kitchen nonetheless, lugging the lantern with me. I filled a pot with water, stoked the potbelly, wished that Tobe would get around to finishing the solar-powered hotplate that he had been promising for years. I spooned out some billy tea, rolled some bush tobacco, lit it off the fire. As soon as I finished my smoke, I whipped the pot off the stove, poured a cup and smothered the fire. I checked if there was enough left for Tobe. There was some, he would have to make do—if he wanted more, he could make it himself. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to my home.
I yawned, stretched, cracked my back. The urge came over me to see the stars and breathe the cool night air. I picked up the lantern, headed out to the back veranda, sat at the creaky wooden table Tobe and I had knocked together when we were still young and hopeful.
I strained my eyes to catch a faint glow, hoping to spot Tobe. All I saw was the same shadowy darkness as always: the faint movement of an owl or a bat or some other nocturnal beastie; gnarled branches, their edges cut sharp in the pale light, swaying back and forth; dead leaves blowing into drifts of dry fuel; fallen trees resting in the arms of those still standing. There was no colour to catch the eye.
Our ravaged world was utterly unmoved by the life that trod upon it. It didn’t care that I looked on, didn’t care that I couldn’t look away.
It should come as no surprise that the unexpected tap on my shoulder shocked me stupid. Trying to get out of my chair to confront the bastard, I rammed my knee into the table and started to fall. Strong hands caught me, kept me steady.
‘G’day, Bill,’ said an annoyingly familiar voice.
I spun around and vented my anger.
‘Tobe, what’s wrong with you? I’ve seen some stupid shit, but that takes the cake. Mate, you should know better than to sneak up on someone in the dark… And come to think of it, I’m not over last night yet. I was hoping to get some good sleep, but no, here you go again, showing up in the middle of the night…’
I trailed off as I realised what he was wearing. Gone were his everyday clothes, his stubby shorts and ragged T-shirts. Instead, he was all in black, a one-piece suit that looked hard, like some kind of body armour. He shrugged, with no effort. A black balaclava—rolled up off his face—hid his short hair. Black gloves covered his hands. His rifle hung on his shoulder, pointing into the sky, as if he aimed to shoot the moon. Hanging from it, dangling from a piece of animal skin fashioned into a cord, was a dead rabbit, blood dripping from a hole in its head.
I whistled low.
Red and Blue appeared next to him, surprising me. They hadn’t made a sound. Their tails weren’t wagging; their tongues weren’t lolling. They looked at me with hard, watchful eyes, standing so still they almost didn’t seem to be breathing.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me…
His body steady, somehow taut, revealing a side of himself that I had never seen before—this new Tobe scared me. A deliberate and dangerous capacity for anything showed itself in his blank eyes, in his humourless smile.
He dropped a black hiking pack to the ground, and lay the rifle and the dead rabbit on the table. The rabbit seemed to look me in the eye, and I had to turn away.
‘Fuck, mate, these things ride all the way up,’ Tobe said, tugging at his crotch and then sitting down.
Same old Tobe.
‘Dickhead.’
I rolled some bush tobacco, lit up, looked at him again. He was terrifying. Red and Blue seemed to guess that the hunt was over—they ambled my way, tails wagging.
‘Good boy, good girl.’
I gave them a scratch; they lapped it up, but the crash of a startled animal echoed from the bush and they disappeared into the night. Tobe looked back at me, staring into my eyes. He didn’t say anything. Even when the smoke from my bush tobacco drifted into his face, he didn’t look away. My discomfort grew—his silence was too much, I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. So I decided to just ignore whatever had made him play dress-ups in the moonlight.
‘How you going?’ I asked. I stubbed out my bush tobacco, made sure it was truly dead, stuck the butt in my pocket.
‘Yeah, I’m all right,’ Tobe said. ‘There’s no other way to be on a night like this. How about you?’
‘I’m okay. Still a bit hungover, pretty tired too. You know, with it being the middle of the night and all…’ I waved around with all the futility I could muster.
Tobe let it go straight over his head. ‘Did you get the tea on?’ he asked, slumping in his seat and yet somehow still looking tense.
‘Yeah, give me a sec to warm it up.’
I stood. So did Tobe. He followed me smoothly, treading quietly. I caught his reflection in the window; his face was still, apart from his eyes, which slowly swept from left to right and then back again.
‘You sure you’re all right?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
I let him be, kept on into the kitchen, relit the potbelly, and reheated the cold tea. Tobe slowly started to relax, peeling off his gloves and tucking them into a pocket. He propped himself against the bench, made a tiny gulping noise, assumed an exaggerated expression of thirst, and fell to his knees. I poured him some water. He stood back up, drank it in a single hit, and then passed the empty cup back. I filled it again. He drank it in another single hit.
‘Got to get it in you when you can.’
I had no idea what he was talking about. Times might have been tough, but they weren’t that tough. Not for someone like Tobe.
‘Here, wrap yourself around this. Maybe you’ll make a bit more sense.’ I passed him his tea.
‘Cheers,’ he said, taking the cup.
He abruptly turned away and walked back outside. After quickly smothering the fire in the pot-belly, I followed him out, somewhat meekly, reasonably confused.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, finding him sitting at the table under the back veranda.
No reply. My words hung in the air. The silence stretched on. After a while, Tobe pulled his pouch from his pocket and started rolling some bush tobacco. He lit up with his antique lighter, cracked his knuckles, picked up his cup, and took a long sip of tea.
‘You know, I’ve been thinking that it’s time for a road trip,’ he said, abruptly breaking the silence. ‘It’s been a while—you could do with getting out of town and clearing your head. I’ve even got a few buttons left. We could head out to the middle of nowhere, have ourselves an experience.’
‘Look around, Tobe. We’re already in the middle of nowhere.’
‘Yeah, but you know, it’ll break it up a bit.’
‘Bullshit.’
I drew the word out, splitting it into its separate syllables, taking the piss without a second thought simply because that’s what we do.
‘You know that no matter where you go, it’ll be the same as here,’ I said.
‘Maybe not. Anyway, are you up for it? We should head off soon, while there’s still enough night left to make it worth it.’
‘It’s the middle of the bloody night—what’s the hurry?’
He didn’t answer, wouldn’t look at me, and then drew into himself for a moment.
‘And what’s with this? Expecting trouble, are we?’ I asked, gesturing at what he was wearing.
He sighed deeply, tried to change the subject. ‘Come on, Bill,’ he said. ‘It’ll be like the old days.’
‘No, it won’t. It’ll be you and me tramping through the bush in the dark.’
‘But…’
‘Go find someone else to round out your expedition.’
‘Look, mate…’