Disharmony (9 page)

Samantha dropped back into the chair; she felt as though a blowfly batted about behind her eyes.

‘Certainly we will finish for you, your Grace,’ Lala continued. ‘There is but one card left to draw – your future – and I am certain that the child will be able to complete the reading quickly.’

Lala looked down at Samantha and gave her a meaningful stare.

Samantha stared back, dazed. What is going on here, Lala? she asked with her eyes.

Please, just finish. And do it quickly, Lala’s eyes answered.

Samantha reached for the deck; the king leaned back against the day bed, and the whispers began again. This time there was heat behind the hushed voices and she thought she heard a muffled shriek from the cards. She turned the top card and placed it to the right of the hourglass.

‘Your future,’ she said coldly. ‘What will be.’

The king stared bug-eyed at the card. Sucked in air. ‘What
is
that?’ he said. ‘What does it mean?’

The card was almost completely black. But forming the centre, staring up at each of them, was a man in pieces. His head, shoulders, stomach, loins and legs had all been dismembered – as though he’d been wrenched from the card and, like a photo, ripped and torn before being crudely pasted back onto the blackness. His face was terrified, his arms clenched across his disembodied chest as though he scrabbled to hold at least this piece of himself together.

Samantha lifted her eyes to the king’s. His jowl quivered.

‘A major Arcana card,’ she said. ‘Your destiny – the Falling Tower.’

Samantha felt Lala willing her to deliver to the king the vanilla-version of this card: that this was a chance for him to be forewarned against a major change that would soon befall his life, and to see this disruption as merely an opportunity to transform things for the better.

Instead, she told the truth.

‘The foundations of your power are weak and rotten,’ she said. ‘Your tower will crumble.’

The lamp on the table before her flickered. She continued. ‘The two choices you are now struggling with will determine whether or not you escape the fall of your empire with your life. Choose one way and you will live on. Select the other option and you will die in agony, with your last breath poisoned by regret.

‘Either way,’ Samantha said, ‘your tower will crumble.’

‘So that’s what makes all that noise,’ Zac shouted, on his knees in the mud next to Luke.

‘Yep, that’s the swamp rat,’ said Luke, lifting his eyes from the garden bed. ‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘She stinks,’ said Zac.

Luke nodded. A sheen of fuel oil shimmered in the air. He’d never been able to figure out whether the 1980 Holden Commodore had originally been red or blue. The panels that remained were a mix of both. At the moment, he couldn’t see much of either colour – the swamp rat was caked in dried dirt and splattered all over with fresh mud. It had no boot, bonnet, rear windscreen or doors, and the swamp rat’s driver, Mad Mike, was also head-to-toe in mud.

Through the hole in the passenger side of the car, Luke watched Mad Mike rip the handbrake up. The engine cut out. The sudden absence of noise was almost as disturbing as the roar of sound had been.

‘Oh my God, how loud is that car?’ said Zac, poking a finger in his ear. ‘What
is
that anyway? Is it even a car?’

Mad Mike swung out of the driver’s side of the vehicle
and crunched over the gravel driveway leading to the Dwight Administration Building. He stopped at the folding chair near the steps leading to the entrance.

‘Mike, can you not do something about the noise from that ridiculous vehicle?’ said Matron Cole, blinking up at him from the chair in which she watched Luke and Zac weeding and the rest of Section Six raking, sweeping mud from the paths and clipping plants. ‘I mean, have you purposely modified that thing to produce that deafening racket?’

Mad Mike scratched at the grey stubble on his cheek. A wad of something brown flicked off his face with the movement. God, I hope that’s mud, thought Luke, grimacing.

‘No muffler,’ Mike mumbled.

‘Well, why do you not attach one, then?’ said Matron. ‘Do you know how sick we all are of hearing that thing tearing through the grounds?’

‘I like it loud,’ said Mad Mike. ‘That way, none of these here delinquents is gonna be able to steal it out from under me, are they?’

He grinned.

Luke wished like hell he hadn’t. Mad Mike had maybe three teeth left and Luke didn’t think those would be hanging around too much longer either. There looked to be even more fungus on them than the last time Luke had been lucky enough to cop a viewing.

Matron actually shuddered.

‘Well, get on with it, Mike,’ she said. ‘You know you’re not supposed to bring that thing out the front here. What if we have a visitor? You make us all look like a pack of hillbillies.’

‘Orright, orright, Mavis. I just gotta pick something up for the laundry,’ said Mad Mike, making his way up the steps.

‘You are
not
to move one step further, Mike Archer,’ said Matron, standing. ‘Just look at the state of you. We do not need you to traipse half of the soccer oval into Admin. What are you here for? I’ll get it. You watch the inmates.’

The moment Matron cleared the doorway, Mad Mike dropped into her chair.

‘You been good, Black?’ he said.

‘Always, Mike,’ said Luke. ‘And you?’

‘Aw, I’m never good,’ said Mad Mike, grinning widely. Luke’s breakfast flip-flopped in his stomach with another spew-view of Mike’s teeth. ‘My pa always told me, “You may be well, son, but you’ll never be good!”’

Luke smiled weakly. Mad Mike always told the same joke.

‘And what about Narelle?’ Luke asked. ‘How are things going with you two?’

Mad Mike dropped the smile. ‘Ah, the silly cow kicked me out again last night.’ He leaned back in the chair, angled his face to catch a feeble glimmer of winter sunshine. ‘I don’t know, Lukey, whether Mike and Narelle are meant to be.’

Luke straightened on his knees in the mud.

‘Oh, come on now, Mike,’ he said. ‘That’s no way to talk. Narelle has your ring on her finger. You’re not going to break her heart like that.’

Mike sat forward and his eyes met Luke’s. He scratched at what was left of the hair on his scalp. ‘Aw, I don’t want to break her heart, but why’s she gotta kick me out all the time. It’s bloody cold out, these nights. It’s only when she’s on the turps that she gets the wind up her. Usually she’s a beautiful bird; best in show.’

‘Well, you keep working on it, Mike. Relationships are never easy, and there’s nothing like family,’ said Luke.

‘True, very true, Lukey. Now you get on with what you’re doin’ there. Matron’s another woman who likes to tear strips off me.’ He reclined again in the chair.

Luke turned back to the weeding. She’s definitely gonna do something to him if he gets his crud all over her chair, he thought.

‘Friend of yours?’ said Zac.

‘Mike’s all right. When you’re on his good side. Hey, you know what sounds worse than the swamp rat, Nguyen?’

‘What?’

‘Being chased by the swamp rat when you’re trying to escape.’

‘Have you tried to escape?’ Zac looked sideways up at him, his glossy fringe hanging in his eyes.

‘Nope,’ said Luke. ‘But I was in orientation when I saw this big kid from Dorm One trying to run.’ He shook his head with the memory. ‘Mad Mike here went feral – well, even more feral than he is now. You shoulda seen it. He was hammering the swamp rat through the paddock after this guy, one hand on the wheel, the rest of him leaning out the window holding a lasso and screaming. You could hear him over the car.’

‘You are so full of it,’ said Zac.

‘I swear,’ said Luke.

‘Did he catch him?’

‘Brought him down with the rope on the second shot.’

‘Oh my God. How scary would that have been?’ said Zac. ‘That guy’s a freak.’

‘It was pretty funny,’ said Luke.

Zac gave him another look and pulled out some more of the thin, sprout-like weeds standing like an army of spears in
the rose bed. ‘They’re never gonna get rid of these things this way,’ he said.

‘Well, if they keep us down here on our knees long enough they will.’

‘They’re onion weed,’ said Zac. ‘They’ll regrow, faster and thicker. All these and more will be back next week.’

‘Onion weed. So you’re a ninja gardener who’s gifted in metalwork?’

‘I told you I like plants,’ said Zac. ‘But not these. You should use some of this, though.’ He reached forward, negotiating rose thorns, and snapped off a large piece of a cactus-looking plant that bordered the footings of the building. ‘Aloe,’ he said.

‘Um, hello?’ said Luke.

‘Not hello, idiot. Aloe. Just take it.’ He dropped the spongy branch into the mud in front of Luke. ‘See that juice coming out of it?’

Luke picked up the piece of plant.

‘Now, squeeze it and smear it over your eye and lips.’

Luke stared at him.

‘If you get it in your mouth it will taste like crap,’ said Zac. ‘But it’ll heal your face fast.’

Luke sniffed. Yeah, like I’m gonna rub some cactus snot all over my face.

‘Um, thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll do it tonight.’

Zac dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘And I saw another plant when we were out running this morning that we could really put to good use around here.’

Luke raised an eyebrow.

‘It’s a species of mushroom,’ Zac said. ‘
Agaricus xanthodermus.
It’s also called Yellow Stainer.’

Okaaaay, thought Luke. What the hell is wrong with this guy?

‘Mushrooms? I, um, I don’t really like mushrooms, thanks, Nguyen,’ he said.

‘Well, you really wouldn’t like the Stainers,’ said Zac, smirking. ‘They cause stomach cramps and severe diarrhoea.’

Luke paused mid-pick and smiled. ‘Well … I could think of a few really good things to do with those. Yep, I definitely think we should collect some. How do you know all this stuff?’

Zac just shrugged.

Luke stood with the other members of Dorm Four, waiting for the rest of the dorms to line up for head count before the march to dinner.

‘I can’t believe they make us march to every meal like this,’ said Zac, quietly.

‘Shut up, Nguyen,’ whispered Kitkat. ‘There’s no talking. Haven’t you got everyone in enough trouble since your skinny arse got here?’

‘Did you guys hear that we’ve got No Rules Basketball after tea tonight?’ murmured Jonas.

Luke groaned. Oh no. No Rules Basketball was Toad’s favourite game. He was pretty sure that had something to do with the fact that Toad kept ‘mistaking’ Luke’s head for the ball. No Rules Basketball was Holt-sanctioned crab bashing.

‘What’s No Rules Basketball?’ whispered Zac.

‘Your worst nightmare,’ said Luke. I’ve got to get out of playing tonight, he thought.

‘Shut up, you idiots,’ hissed Kitkat. ‘McNichol’s coming.’

Luke watched the least-hated screw in Dwight walking towards them, picking her way carefully through the mud. He wondered what was up – she was supposed to be on dining hall duty right now. He always knew where each of the supervisors was at any time. It was just something he’d always done, just as he guessed most of the kids in here would have. In the homes they grew up in, not knowing where ‘daddy’ or ‘mummy’ or ‘Uncle Dave’ was at any particular time could leave you in casualty for the rest of the night.

Ms McNichol fidgeted with the buttons on her trench coat as she walked. The jacket could not quite close over her belly. A couple of months back he’d just assumed she’d been eating too much lasagne for dinner, but now it was obvious to everyone that she was pregnant. As she entered the circle of light around Dorm Four she pulled the collar up on her coat and glanced around. She stopped in front of Luke.

‘Black,’ she said. ‘There’s no gym for you tonight. I need you over at Admin.’

Thank God, he thought. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘You just go where you’re told, Black. You don’t need to know why.’

‘Yes, Ms McNichol.’

‘I’ll need another Dorm Four boy,’ she said. ‘Nguyen, you’ll do. Wait at the front of the dining hall after you’re dismissed from your meal and I’ll escort you both over there.’

The sound of the others marching back from dinner to the halls faded into the night, leaving behind frozen silence. Luke shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his tracksuit pants and stamped his feet. Zac shuffled next to him. The cold made ghosts of their breath, and Luke blew it out in sinewy
ribbons, watching them curl and vanish. The air felt wet, and the darkness outside the pool of light in front of the hall might as well have been an inky ocean for all they could see of it. With no housing for miles around, and the main buildings of the Dwight centre behind them, Luke and Zac could have been anywhere. Or nowhere.

‘We could just take off right now,’ said Zac. ‘Where is McNichol?’

‘I know,’ said Luke. ‘Too weird. They never leave us alone like this.’

‘What do you reckon she wants us for?’

Luke shrugged. ‘Something boring, no doubt.’ Whatever it is, it’s much better than being in the gym right now.