War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg
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as a spoken one.
Ding ding!
A bell rings - I'm not sure where from - and the women stop thrashing around and pull back from each other, breathing heavily - their chests heaving up and down.
'Great workout,' Alana says into my ear. 'You know - this kind of thing is what men do all the time with Rugby and whatever. And yet this is banned when it's women. All they want is a good workout. This is some of the best exercise you'll get.'
One woman gently caresses an arm of the other and then pulls it towards her face. She begins to lick the blood, mud and sweat from it.
'What's happening?' I ask. without averting my gaze.
'Not as crazy as you think. They're just pruning each other. Like cats. Only - unlike cats - these girls have had their blood tested by a doctor who comes here all the time. So - believe it or not - there ain't even any risk of disease here. Not that I wouldn't watch otherwise.'
'Do they' - I swallow - '. . . there's blood on their lips . . . do they . . .?'
'Yes,' Alana yells into my ear, slapping me on the shoulder. 'You're such a typical guy.'
I begin to breath heavily, anticipating that contact between lips. I can smell the sweat of these girls but somehow an even more powerful smell comes from Alana, whose head now rests on my shoulder. Would I still be breathing as heavily if she - my first cousin - wasn't tightly wound into me, like the sexy snake from the Garden of Eden, tempting me to taste that apple . . . to taste her lips? Would I be holding just anyone's hand as I now hold Alana's - tightly, rubbing my sweat into hers so freely, without restraint, without feeling at all self-conscious or embarrassed?
'Why are so many things in this world illegal for so many fucked up reasons?' Alana yells.
'What?' I ask, turning around to face her.
'Let's go!' Alana screams, grabbing me by the arms and hoisting me up. ‘Don’t you hear that?'
I look back to where the girls should be. They're gone - having left only some calligraphic red swirls in the grey mud.
'The sirens!' Alana screams. 'C'mon, let's go!'
I hear them now: blaring sirens becoming louder and louder, an unwanted noise intruding into the peaceful - albeit noisy - serenity of the situation.
'Let's go!' Alana screams again, practically dragging me with her. 'C'mon Shaun, faster. You gotta run now cous', I mean it!'
And then - finally becoming aware of what's going on - I bolt alongside her, clasping her hand tightly as though a child holding onto his mother's as he flees a fire.
SHELLY FREEMAN – 11:47am - December 17 - 2011
'There she is,' Shaun says. 'She's coming. I see her.'
'She's passed through security?' Jackson asks. I can hear every word through my earphones. Every word, every sound from inside the house. I can hear whatever Big Bro wants me to. Their voices echo in my mind like rain on a metal sheet; so clear, and so sharp; as though I'm watching them on a high definition screen, and then I see Jackson and Shaun through the widescreen window.
'She strolling up to our front door so I'm pretty sure she's through. Gotta admit it's great to see her again.'
'Yeah. Yeah, that's her. Shelly!' - Jackson yells. He holds up a palm.
JACKSON CURTIS – 11:48am - December 17 - 2011
She smiles, allowing her lips to lift like the wings of angels. I walk over to the door and pull it open: 'Shelly. I can't believe you made it here.'
'You're in the south, all of you,' Shelly replies. 'I'm the one who's in disbelief.'
'Not out of choice,' I say. 'Well, then again, I kind of like it here. Sort of like a holiday house.'
'Thank you for letting me in,' Shelly says. 'I don't know what's going on out there anymore.'
'Of course you do!' Chloe yells. 'This is the south side and you're a south-sider. Of course you know what's going on!'
SHELLY FREEMAN – 11:49am - December 17 - 2011
'I'm confused,' I say, stepping into the house.'
'Confused about what side you belong to?' Chloe presses.
'Chloe,' Shaun says. 'Don't.'
'Shut up Shaun.' - She walks over to me. - 'You just forgot you're a south-sider, forgot you're a Catholic, forgot why we're fighting!? Or are you here to spy on us? And what can we do if you are? We're at your mercy. Three north-siders at the mercy of a south-sider. And where's your mate?'
'She'll be here soon,' I say. 'Look: Chloe is it?'
'Don't get all friendly with me bitch. It's people like you who are fuckin' up Sydney. The Harbour Bridge is down. The whole city is in ruins! And all because you hate America! All because you're all so fuckin' frigid!'
'I told you I don't understand what's going on,' I stress. 'Please. I'm just as confused as you are. I hear it was the north that bombed the bridge anyway.'
'You bitch!' Chloe yells. She runs at me but Shaun grabs her by the waist. 'Let me go! She's blaming us! She's blaming us for the destruction of the bridge, Shaun? Listen! Can you hear her? Can you hear what she's saying?'
'It doesn't matter,' Shaun says. 'It doesn't matter what fanatic person, or group of people, dropped the bomb on the bridge. I think the point Shelly's trying to make is that it wasn't her. Do you honestly think she had anything to do with the destruction of the bridge?'
'She's Catholic Shaun!' Chloe yells. 'She's goes to church, she listens to those evil muthafuckers, those pastors, and they tell them that the northerners are vermin!'
'That's right!' I yell. 'They do. But why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I decided to come here? Do you think I'm actually listening to them? Do you think I actually believe what they're saying? I've been good mates with Shaun, and Jackson for ever. We went to the same school before the war broke out! Don't you think I know that these guys aren't vermin? Don't you think I know that what these guys are preaching is nonsense?'
'But you're a Catholic,' Chloe says.
'Yeah. And up until a few weeks ago, especially when I was in the north, I respected the pastors, I listened to what they were saying. And I still listen to what they once said: I've got recordings on my iPod. I'm still a Catholic, but not the type of Catholic they want me to be now.'
'But you're still a Catholic?' Chloe presses.
'Chloe, does it matter?' Shaun asks. 'Seriously?'
'She's got an iPod here!' Chloe yells. 'Is that even legal? Ain't that contraband? Why is she aloud to bring it into the house?'
'Shaun, Chloe,' Jackson says. 'Do you remember one of the things the north is fighting for: freedom of speech. Chloe, don't you think Shelly has the right to listen to who she wants to listen to, to believe what she likes, so long as it doesn't cause anyone harm?'
'It's causing me harm!' Chloe says. ‘You got another thing coming if you think I’mma sit here and pray every night or something. She better not have a bible.'
'I don't,' I say. 'I promise. Look, I didn't come here to try and get you all to change or anything, I came here to be safe. I'm scared of what's going on out there, just like all of you.'
'C'mon Chloe,' Jackson says. 'Look at me: I'm a north-sider through and through. I've even slept with more guys than you have. So do you really think I'd just let any cold blooded south-sider into this joint. I've known Shelly for a long time. So has Shaun. She's a good mate. We can trust her.'
'I . . .' Chloe starts.
'Do you trust me, Chloe?' Jackson presses. 'Huh?'
'Well, yeah. Of course.'
'Then please. Let's see how things go, ok?'