Dead ants. That’s what my front garden smelt like. Just dead ants and dry soil.
Russell’s pale, green jeep was parked on the dirt driveway, the driver’s side door hanging wide open. It was a curious sight. I looked around the deserted street. We were at the end of a cul-de-sac surrounded by dry Australian bush; the other end of the street shimmered in the heat radiating off the black bitumen. Cicadas drowned out the noise of cars on the nearby boulevard, a constant chorus that I’d grown to enjoy. However, today the lack of any other noise gave me the chills. I looked around the street once more, then trudged up the driveway.
I slammed the car door shut, wincing as the action tugged at the sore muscle in my back. The familiar whirring of bicycle wheels spinning around made me look back just in time to see Phil and Ollie coasting past on their BMXs. Their heads turned towards me simultaneously, and I gasped. Their eyes were hollow sockets, oozing gleaming black liquid down their grinning faces. The boys continued riding, disappearing behind the truck parked on Phil’s front lawn.
I bolted through the side gate, just to be met with another horrific sight.
An enormous black wolf stood in the corner of my yard, looking at me with pleading grey eyes. A spiked chain tied it to the shed; its fur was matted with congealed blood. Barbwire bound its paws loosely together, and it had naught but a tub of sickly black water to sustain its life.
I held as much sympathy for it as I did fear. I’d always been scared of big dogs, I’d witnessed one attack my twin sister when we were younger. But for some reason the sight of the wolf bound in chains sparked no curiosity in my mind.
I thudded up the deck stairs and barged through the back door. “Mum!” I cried, panic in my gut. “Mum! Where are you?”
“Your mother’s gone.”
I stepped into the dimly-lit lounge room. Russell sat on the couch, a bottle of Southern Comfort in his bloody hands. Blood was smeared across the floor, a clear trail leading from Russell all the way to the front door.
“What do you mean, gone?” my voice quavered, eyes glued to the blood.
“Gone,” he echoed, smearing blood across his face as he rubbed his ginger stubble. “Gone, gone.”
I backed away into the shadowy corridor, straight into cool, thin arms. They wrapped around me and a pointed chin rested on my shoulder. “It’s going to be ok, sister,” Ingrid’s voice was soft and airy. “There’s no need to be afraid, we’re going to be ok.”
I gulped. “Ingrid, what happened to mum?”
Her arms squeezed me tighter, squeezed like she’d never release me.
“Ingrid – let go of me. It hurts.” I reached to tug Ingrid’s arm from around me, but pain seared through my wrist when I tried to grab her. “Ing, my arm feels like it’s broken.” Tears choked me, I sobbed in dizzy confusion. “Where’s mum? I need her. Ingrid – my arm.”
Crying out in agony, I sat up in bed. A cool breeze caressed my sweaty forehead, spilling through the open window. I groaned. Just another bad dream. Why was my bedroom window open? Shivering, I switched off the ceiling fan and threw the window open wider. The bush spread out below me, moonlight illuminating the treetops. This house had the best view of Forest Lake – I could see all the way to the other side where the tall shopping center clock towered over the lake, all the way to the industrial sites on Blunder Road.
A noise in the bush diverted my attention. A black shape. It moved through the undergrowth just beyond my fence line, stopping now and again. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was the wolf. I didn’t know if I should report it, people might be in danger, but who would believe me? Did I even believe myself? With all these vivid nightmares how could I separate reality from the dream?
My bed clothes were drenched in cold sweat, and as I lay back down to sleep I began shivering again although my forehead burned. It felt like hours that I tossed and turned that night, trying and failing to sleep, then in the dead of the night I heard voices above the ringing in my ears. The words were undistinguishable, muffling in and out of focus to my spinning head. One of the voices belonged to my mother – that much I could tell. Nothing made sense, the world was flickering like a bad image on TV – it was real then it wasn’t, I was there then I was floating through nothingness…
I heard my mother give a startled yelp, then footsteps padded along the wooden floor and Ingrid’s blood curdling scream filled my mind like a lead weight. I stumbled out of bed and towards the door – something bad was happening, I had to make sure everyone was ok.
The world tipped on its side and suddenly the musty carpet was under my nose. I looked up to see the door knob gleaming in the moon light, then all was black. “Mum…” I muttered in my last moments of consciousness.
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