The Chronicles of Australis #2

an extract from
The Chronicles of Australis, Chapter Two – Jack’s Back.

It was a cold, wet August night in Melbourne and the streets of East Brunswick were not surprisingly deserted, even at 10:00 pm. The constant drizzling rain throughout most of the day had finally ceased but the roads and walkways were slick and shining, the cloud cover low and threatening. It was one of those hazy nights when the city dazzles with light reflected from every wet surface and seems confined by the dense cloud layer over head, when the smog is thick, the air freezing and clammy. No discernible wind blew and it was relatively peaceful, in a muffled sort of way, for such a large city.

Jack walked alone with his head down, the collar of his jacket turned up and his hands shoved deep within its pockets. He wasn’t paying any particular attention to the world around him, letting it pass by with peripheral familiarity, mumbling to himself how it was a miserable night to be out walking and cursing the fact that he didn’t have a car. He cursed the public transport strike, he cursed the taxi strike, he cursed the need to be out at all. Of all the things he could be doing on a Friday night he had a class! And not a recognised class, a damned Rehab class! A damned voluntary Rehab class! For the tenth time in half an hour he wondered why he wasn’t back in his warm house trying to chat up the new roomie – she was kind of cute, in a laughing, fun loving way and earlier in the day she had indicated an interest in him. He cursed again, pulled his collar a little tighter and continued walking.

For all his cursing Jack knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. His counsellor may have used the term ‘voluntary’ but the particular emphasis she had placed on it left no doubt about her real meaning. He would go or else. And so, he was. Well, he owed her, she had done so much for him over the past twelve months, so much more than a state awarded social worker was expected to do and he just couldn’t let her down. No, all he had to do was remember the state he was in a year ago, the confusion, the sense of being lost, and he would do whatever she asked; Hell, he’d dance naked through these very streets if she asked it of him! Perhaps that was what he had been doing a year ago before they found him, naked and comatose, lying somewhere in the night with the rain gently yet irrevocably erasing his memory. Could he have been dancing in the rain the night his past vanished? It made him shudder just wondering about it but he couldn’t help himself, he would always wonder about it.

It had been a night not unlike this one, or so they told him. He had been delivered to the Western General by a group of young men and women dressed in hiking clothes, complete with back packs and sleeping bags, and unceremoniously deposited in the foyer with a note. Just a note. They didn’t even hang around to answer questions. The note had read:

“Found at 1:35 am in this condition and state of undress. Possible hypothermia, dehydration, etc. Only one lucid moment of approximately fifteen minutes duration. Only one coherent phrase, quote – “Tell Shayla I’m sorry, this was the only way” – stop – “And look out for Jack” – stop, unquote. No ID. No possessions. 22/8/2027”

Jack had no idea what the quotation in the note referred to. His earliest memory was of waking up in the hospital and wondering where he was, why he was there and strangely, if the sterile smell of the place meant that he had been entombed. Later on though he had chosen the name ‘Jack’ for himself in the hope that someone would “look out for Jack.” Well, in the end the someone turned out to be Nancy Kembla, his appointed Social Worker. She had taken him, a man with only an assumed name to cling to, and given him an identity of sorts, a life, of sorts. How do you repay a debt like that? You don’t, you can’t, dancing naked through the streets doesn’t even scratch the surface.

The sudden screaming of a siren startled Jack out of his reverie and the reflective world around him exploded into red and blue flashing lights as if a hundred police cars were bearing down on him. He panicked. In the blink of an eye he was crouched on the pavement, huddled against the display-glass window of a lighting shop with his hands over his eyes, head between his knees. It was only a few seconds later that he glanced up to see a late model black Toyota fly silently by, followed by a lone police car. In a moment they were gone and Jack rose to his feet shaking and sweating. He swore and tried to calm down. It was the lights more than the noise.. Any loud, sudden sound startled him easily enough but bright, flashing light shocked him to the core and his reaction was always the same – utter fear followed immediately by the need to retreat, escape. He didn’t know why, he and his Shrink had been working on it for nearly a year now without a hint of the cause. He hated it, but it also intrigued him because he was sure it related to his past somehow. One thing seemed certain though, he couldn’t have grown up in the city.

Still trembling he checked himself in the window glass and suddenly laughed. His long dark hair, damp from the earlier rain, had fallen forward over his face so that he looked like a drowned rat, or maybe Cousin It. He brushed it back with his fingers, tucking it in the slight gap between his shirt and jacket. He knew he wouldn’t find the rubber band that usually held his hair in place so he didn’t bother looking, instead he brushed the water off and smoothed his goatee. He sighed heavily, fished out a cigarette and stepped into the sheltered door recess to light it up. It made him feel a little better.

Jack continued walking, the shakes would settle soon enough he knew but to take his mind off it he forced himself to consider the impending class. Six months ago he had been accepted into the University of Melbourne to study for a Bachelor of Arts Degree. Nancy had organised it, of course, by acquiring for him a special scholarship in a Young Adult Rehabilitation Program funded by the government. Admittedly his was an unusual case but it met all the necessary criteria. The purpose of YARP wasn’t simply to hand out scholarships to the needy however, it was formed more specifically to integrate lost soles back into society, and more specifically still, only those lost soles who showed some academic promise. What it all boiled down to, apart from the academic studies, was a variety of extra-curricular social activities that were mostly a pain in the arse and almost always boring. Jack didn’t complain of course, he had a large debt to pay and besides, he was both surprised and pleased to learn he was an exceptional student. He supposed he must have always been so.

Tonight was going to be different though. Tonight’s class wasn’t another of those conventional social gatherings chosen for their rehabilitative merit but was rather a meeting of likes. The other participants would be like him. Well, not like him exactly, as far as Jack knew he was one of a kind, but lost soles all the same, probably ex-cons and druggies and street kids and so on, people taking their last shot at a normal life. He hadn’t been informed of the purpose of the meeting but he assumed they were going to compare notes, maybe form a support group to back each other up – something new age and caring anyway. Jack laughed aloud into the frigid evening air. It might very well prove interesting but in the end it would probably be another useless waste of time.

From Nicholson St jack turned west onto Faraday and moved across to Lygon to catch the Conveyer. The Conveyer was another reason why Jack believed he hadn’t grown up in the city – it made him uncomfortable. Strangely enough, escalators didn’t give him a problem but Melbourne’s inner-city system of mobile walkways made him feel peculiar. Despite the amnesia Jack remembered how to do things; he couldn’t remember people or places, he couldn’t remember events or dates, but he remembered how things were done. He could read for example, write, ride a bike, drive a car, have sex, brush his teeth, do things. He assumed these were all things he had done before The Accident and they had become, perhaps, instinctive. Sometimes a little learning was involved – to operate a computer, to drive a car – as if his memory was slow to catch up. But the first time he went to use a Conveyer however, he had no idea what to do and even now, a year later, it still made him uneasy. Either they formed a part of the past that was lost to him or more likely, as he had already assumed, he had not grown up in the city. Whatever the case, it was far easier than walking.

He caught the Conveyer down to Grattan St, marvelling at how quiet this particular region was for a Friday night. Lygon St was usually one of Melbourne’s premier nocturnal haunts on any night of the week and it was always difficult to find space on the Conveyer. Probably the bad weather he reasoned, everyone was at home where it was warm and dry, just as he should have been. From Grattan St he turned into Cardigan and continued walking. Half way along he stopped and dug a piece of paper from his jeans pocket, reading it quickly before scanning the buildings around him. Almost the entire street consisted of old two-storey Victorian terrace houses converted for the use of some university faculty or organisation or other. A short distance further and he stopped before number 37, one of the more depressed buildings in obvious need of general maintenance, with paint peeling off the facade and only weeds growing in the tiny front garden. The ground floor appeared dark and deserted but the full length windows above emitted a soft yellow glow that was both warm and inviting. He decided to go in. It was 10:20 pm now and he was late.

As he pushed open the front door he recognised the faded YARP logo embedded in the timber and was immediately engulfed by a wonderfully warm gust of air rushing to get out. He realised suddenly just how cold it was outside. For some reason he never seemed to notice the extremes of temperature until they were tempered. The corridor inside was in fact quite dim but towards the end the glow from above illuminated a majestic old stairway.

“Is that you, Jack?” Nancy’s penetrating voice echoed down the stairwell.

“Yeah!” He shouted back up. Nancy? What the hell is Nancy doing here, he wondered. She doesn’t take classes, does she?

“Well get your arse up here, Son. We’ve been waiting hours for your indolent butt to show up!”

Jack laughed loud enough to be heard above as he mounted the stairs. Hours indeed! He smiled all the way to the top. Nancy always made him smile, like the way she called him Son when she couldn’t be more than two years his senior. At the landing Jack paused, letting his gaze wander briefly over the four new faces in the room, two guys and two girls, assessing their mood before centring on Nancy. He smiled roguishly. “Indolent, you say? You, who insist on meeting once a week and is never on time? Look to your own barge-arse for indolence, my dear Mentor.”

Nancy slapped one fat thigh and guffawed which set her whole obese form to wobbling like a jelly. She was sprawled across an old hessian bean bag, effectively hiding it from view, with the unashamed pose of a whorehouse Madam. She was dressed as always in baggy, shapeless dungarees and a blouse of parachute material that Jack thought might actually be large enough for the real thing. Her long dirty-blonde hair was unkempt and she wore no adornments or makeup. Jack was fairly certain her appearance was deliberate, an effort to blend and associate better with her charges. Those who didn’t know her probably considered her to be a fat, disgusting slob but as far as Jack was concerned she was a saint and under all that gross blubber was a heart the size of a planet.

“Skinny prick!” She laughed.

“Pampered porker!”

“Empty head!”

Jack frowned at that. “What?”

“Sorry Jack.” She was immediately remorseful. “I guess you’re not quite ready for that one yet.”

Jack quickly scanned the other four faces again. They consisted of a tough looking Aboriginal girl with a barely contained snarl hidden beneath an almost flawless face; a tall, fair-skinned redhead in a contrasting green jumpsuit; a blonde giant of a man with muscles bulging all over including, apparently, inside his skull; and a balding geek with a self-important but nonetheless flaccid posture. A moment ago they were smiling along but now their expressions were questioning. He turned back to Nancy and produced a mock bow. “I’m fine. Just don’t let it happen again, Your Vast and Eminent Rotundness.”

Nancy slapped, guffawed and wobbled exactly as before. “Alright!” She announced, struggling to gain a more upright position and gasping for breath. “Lets get this show on the road. Park your sweet arse, Jack. Good. Okay, you’re probably all wondering what the hell I’m up to this time so sit still and let me fill you in.” She paused to drink noisily from a silver wine bladder which had been removed from its plastic cask. “According to the YARP Board you five have displayed unsatisfactory progress throughout the socialising programs held over the past six months. However, whilst the Board is hesitantly confident of your future success I, on the other hand, am not.” Jack and one or two of the others started to object but Nancy raised her puggy little hand for silence. “Oh, you’re all experts at going through the motions I know – saying the right words, displaying the best character, showing all the outward signs of having a jolly good time. Well you don’t fool me, I know you for what you really are. You’re an intelligent and intuitive bunch but your social facades, yes facades, are beginning to dissolve. The cracks are already appearing.” She stopped to gaze at Jack and each of the others in turn. “Well, am I right? How long before you run screaming from the room at one of these functions, Jane? And you, Bradley. How long before you offend someone enough to start a blue? Kareena? Just dying to kick some male chauvinist in the balls, right? And Jack, if you showed a fraction more care for what others are doing with their lives you might actually be mistaken for being alive. Your neat little facades are crumbling folks and if we let that happen the Board wont be very confident in your futures at all, no, they’ll clamp down on your arses so hard it will take years to get back to this stage. Anyone want to refute this?”

From the corner of his eye Jack watched the others shaking their heads. Obviously they knew Nancy as well as he did. When it came to reading people she was one of the best, often knowing a persons emotions before they were aware themselves. It was a talent which was pretty much indisputable. Jack was about to say just that when Nancy continued.

“I didn’t think so. Look, I realise the Board has set a stringent program for the social aspect of your scholarships but while you and I might disagree with it, there is nothing we can do about it. They’re not Psychologists, they don’t understand how complex some of your problems are, they don’t know how long it takes to get a life back on track and worst of all, they don’t care. For them it all comes down to results. So we have to come up with something different.” She took another swig from the wine bladder and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“So tonight is part one of Nancy’s rescue plan, right?” Jack asked.

“Yep. I’ve brought you here tonight because you’re all in the same boat. You can make it, I know you can, but YARP is a little misguided in its solutions. They believe forced social interaction will eventually lure you, seduce you back into social convention. Their confidence in you stems from the basic premise that all people really want is to fit in, to belong. It’s not that simple though. The people attending these functions don’t know you, they don’t have the capacity to understand where you’re coming from. If these perfectly mainstream folks get a glimpse behind your careful facades they aren’t likely to be as sympathetic or as open-armed as YARP believes. What they have failed to consider is another equally valid premise – that interest groups, by their very nature, are unaccepting of people who don’t fit their ideals. And at present you lot don’t fit.”

“So what’ve ya got in mind, Nance?” Jack didn’t notice which of the two guys had spoken, he was too intent on wondering what sorts of problems these people possessed that had Nancy so concerned. He guessed by the language though that the blonde superman owned the voice and he was soon proven correct.

“For you, Matrick? She laughed. “All sorts of inappropriate designs.” Everyone but Jack laughed along and Nancy, finally exhausted from holding herself erect in the bean bag, collapsed back across it with a grunt. “But seriously, my agenda is pretty straight forward. In order for you to successfully integrate with the masses out there you must learn to accept or overcome their prejudices and misconceptions. You have to develop the tools to handle and put aside their rejections, tolerate their intolerance so to speak. In other words I believe that before you can fit in with the big picture you need to practise on a smaller one. This one.” She spread her flabby arms to incorporate everyone in the room. “Who would be more tolerant and sympathetic to your various plights than yourselves? What better environment could you have to thrash out your differences, learn from them, understand them? If you can fit in with each other okay then you’ve made a start, don’t you think?” She watched them. “Anyone?” Not one of the room’s occupants spoke, none of them even looked in Nancy’s direction. “Shit! Look at you all! Doubts, doubts, doubts! Well ladies and gentlemen, we are going to do this, we’ll do it my way and we’ll damn well try our hardest. If you don’t, then to put it bluntly, you’re fucked. So, you are now a group, take a moment to think it over.” She reached for her wine and an uncomfortable quiet descended.

Jack waited and watched, content to sit back until someone else broke the silence. The moment stretched to five minutes and still nobody spoke, the quiet was becoming embarrassing. He stood up and moved towards the rear of the room, stretching his legs. It was a large room, occupying the entire first floor and was very sparsely furnished. The stairway entered in the approximate centre, where they all now sat on bean bags but between there and the large picture windows at either end, the room was almost empty. The two exceptions were a small wall-kitchen, with basic coffee making facilities and a refrigerator, and a toilet. At the sink Jack filled an old stainless steel urn and plugged it in. It was no percolator but suddenly he was dying for a coffee badly enough that even instant seemed attractive.

While he was making his preparations someone finally spoke. “Very well, Miss Kembla.” The voice had an upper class nasal drawl that was simultaneously sardonic and articulate. There was also a hint of accent, possibly British. Jack turned to watch.

“Does our illustrious, industrious Master Ashcroft have something pertinent to say, perhaps?” Nancy prompted.

“Why yes, I believe I do. It appears obvious that we, as socially inept animals, are, in your opinion, incapable of succeeding individually. This may indeed be the case, or may not, but is a moot point. You have chosen our pathway to plebeian salvation after careful consideration of our various social ills so I, having learnt to value your sapient advise, will not gainsay you.” The speaker was the older of the two guys. He was shortish and overweight with a very unfortunate head of wiry brown hair which had receded to the top of his scalp. His skin had a ruddy glow to it which gave him an angry countenance but even from his distant vantage Jack could see the eyes were smiling. He went back to making coffee, smiling to himself. Ashcroft would not be popular, arrogance and sarcasm were not a winning combination. He laughed aloud without realising it.

“Something funny, Jack?” It was Nancy and she sounded impatient. Clearly she didn’t find Ashcroft’s sarcasm amusing either so she was attempting to shift the focus away from him. Jack was curious, how far was Nancy willing to go with this?

“No, not at all. I was just seconding Mr Ashcroft. Oh, kettle’s boiled. Any takers?” There were none. “Cheap shout.” He mumbled, pouring himself a cup. He returned to the others and sat, noticing that Nancy was watching him expectantly. “Nothing further, Your Honour.”

“So, can we all agree to this? Thoughtfully?” Nancy asked angrily. She was becoming upset by the lack of seriousness and consideration she was receiving. Those who hadn’t yet agreed did so quickly. “Finally. Okay, this is the deal. You are now a group. You will meet here, or anywhere else you desire, as often as you like until the task I’ve set you is complete. After tonight I won’t be with you so whatever you achieve is solely dependent on how well the group interacts.” Her natural control was returning. She grinned and took another drink.

“Sounds fair enough so far Nance but whata we hafta do?” The question came from the huge blonde man, the one Nancy had called Matrick.

“I’ll get to that later in the evening. First I would like the opportunity to judge how well you are going to meld as a team.

“How long have we got for this project, Nancy?” This from one of the girls, the tall redhead, who blushed a deep shade of pink as the focus abruptly turned on her.

“Two months.” There were a few groans. “I think that’s fair. I realise you all have other tasks to complete but I can only keep the Board off your backs for so long once they begin to see the potential for disaster I have already noticed. It’s the best I can do. So,” – she checked her watch – “lets say I meet you for the presentation back here on October twenty-second. Now, I’m only here tonight so lets make the most of it. To get it started why don’t we all give a little talk, introduce ourselves and get things out in the open. Who wants to go first?” Jack looked down, suddenly finding his coffee very interesting.

After a moment Bradley spoke. “Pardon my observation, Miss Kembla, but whilst I applaud your purpose I must say I believe this present experiment of ‘getting things out in the open’ to be a catastrophe in the making. There is no need for any of us to conform here, indeed I cannot envisage such an occurrence.”

Nancy ignored him. “Kareena? Why don’t you begin it for us? A little blunt honesty might just set a precedent and I really want things out in the open. Tonight.”

Kareena turned out to be the Koori girl sitting furthest to the back. She had glossy, jet black hair hanging dead straight to mid-neck and amazing dark tan skin, unblemished and radiating good health. Even seated she was obviously lean and athletic, her posture suggesting a tightly coiled readiness for action, or maybe attack. She stared at the group through hard brown eyes and positively sneered – it was a cold, mean expression.

“If that’s the way you want it.” She said, rising to her feet gracefully in one fluid motion. She possessed a feline sensuality, or sexuality, that intrigued Jack but her manner in general made him wary. She was like a dark siren, intimating a challenging and tempting excitement that would most likely lead to serious harm. Her choice of clothing, he noticed, was probably an outward reflection of herself – dark, firm and mean. She wore faded black jeans, torn and stained; a new black T-shirt which almost seemed painted on and emphasised her firm, upright breasts clearly; and a short denim jacket which partnered the jeans. Even her boots and wide leather belt were black. She took a few steps away from the group, to gather her thoughts or emotions, and turned back in anger. As she did so Jack glimpsed two small tattoos, one on the back of each hand, which seemed to be boomerangs. Each one seemed to be of a different design but they were too intricate for Jack to make out in any detail.

“My name is Kareena Loche, I’m twenty-five years old and I’m a delinquent.” Her voice had a harsh edge to it, in the manner of a challenge, but it was actually rather husky and feminine. “My father, basically a rapist, was a Scot. He and my mother apparently had a brief affair while he was studying at Bond University. He pissed off back to Scotland and left her pregnant. He claims he didn’t know but he’s a lying bastard. My Mum was Koori, native Australian, poor but intelligent and doing her damnedest to climb out of the shit. They say she was beautiful but I’ll never know. There are no photos. She died during childbirth. So, he pissed off, she died, I never knew either of them.”

At first her speech was like an onslaught, her sentences short and jabbing. Jack realised he had inched back, trying to distance himself. Everyone else appeared to have done the same, all except Nancy who was leaning forward eagerly – as much as her large frame would allow. Towards the end though Kareena almost seemed to crack, her voice softening and her eyes watering. Then she started again and for a moment Jack actually thought she was snarling before the words resolved themselves.

“….one joint to another. Orphanage, foster home, whatever, they’re basically the same all over. They treat you like shit! Except for some of the men, they can treat a girl differently, especially an insignificant black girl. I was fourteen before I realised I had been raped more times than the average girl has sex in her teens. I started to fight back then, protect myself when I could which wasn’t all that often. In the end I…

“On my sixteenth birthday one of my foster guardians tried to give me his idea of a special present. The other people at the party found him in my bedroom with his cock sticking out of his pants and a letter opener sticking out of his neck. Unfortunately he lived.” – The look she gave was pure malice. – “After that it was correctional facilities instead of foster homes. Different shit, same stink.

“That may have actually been a good thing. Well, my education improved at any rate. For the first time in my life I had access to decent computers and I had a decent teacher – one who didn’t prejudge or denigrate, you know, street wise and educated at the same time, someone I could relate to. In addition, those places didn’t have masses of snobbish little girls and hard-cock little boys, not any that I couldn’t handle by then anyway. I probably learnt more in the following two years than in all the preceding years of my life—academically. Finally I got my head together, and my legs. I enjoyed it. It was still tough but I enjoyed it.

“Eventually they judged me worthy to be released into glorious society. At first I found it strange and frightening but I managed okay.” She stopped, suddenly realising how attentively her audience was listening. She shuffled self-consciously, turning away from them.

Jack understood; in revealing her capacity to be frightened she had probably gone further than she intended. Nancy stepped in at that point. “If I remember correctly you got a job with an accountant in Sydney, is that right? A seedy type with one thing on his mind?”

Kareena turned back. “No, it wasn’t like that. He was nice to me, probably the first person ever. I was his secretary. I actually enjoyed the work, but really it was the responsibility, the trust. He wasn’t a rough man. I didn’t mind too much when he touched me up. I gave him a little and he paid me well. It worked, you know, it was good to be appreciated for a change. And I felt sorry for him, his wife was such a stuck-up bitch. Of course the stuck-up bitch caught us one day and that was the end of it. Actually it didn’t matter in the end because two days later I was busted for trafficking and put away for three years.

“Before I go on, no I didn’t do it. I admit to using, there’s no law against that. I get my stuff legally. No, I was at a party and the cops raided the house. They found there was more grass than the number of party goers was legally allowed and so they rounded us all up under suspicion of dealing. They chose me because of my background, my record, probably my colour and surprise surprise, there were corroborating witnesses! Anyway, I went from correctional facilities to jail. Natural progression they called it. Three years. I don’t want to talk about that.” Again embarrassment forced her to stop.

She turned to Jack, “That offer for coffee still open?” It was more a suggestion than a question. He shrugged, nodded and went over to the kitchen. In truth he felt for Kareena, he found himself liking her despite the tough exterior and barely veiled menace. Hell, no wonder she behaved the way she did, most people wouldn’t have come this far. He was fairly sure he wouldn’t have coped in her situation. So what if she was violent and defensive, she made his own problems insignificant by comparison. He returned with the coffee and handed it to her. “What did you do when you got out?” He asked.

She laughed and Jack was staggered by the transformation. “Our mutual saviour rescued me.” That sneering don’t-mess-with-me expression disappeared, replaced by a genuine smile. In that moment Jack thought she was probably the most striking woman he had ever seen. She noticed the way he was studying her though and took two steps back, the aggressive barrier slamming down. She pointedly waited until he moved away before going on. “Nancy got me a job at the Melbourne Zoo. New town, new job. It was okay, I got right into it, you know. I started writing about the animals – articles, poetry, stuff like that. I was laid off after a while which hurt, I really connected with the animals, but the zoo was in financial trouble and so on. Nancy sort of convinced me my writing wasn’t too bad and here I am, a Bachelor of Arts student. The end.” She sat down.

With some difficulty Nancy rose ponderously to her feet and moved around behind Kareena, putting her hands on the girls shoulder in a gesture of pride. “Kareena left a couple of things out that I think are important. During the years she was working at the zoo Australian Geographic accepted two of her articles and The Natural World accepted another. You might also be interested to know Kareena won the Melbourne Freestyle Aerobics Championship last year and the year before,” She patted the dark girls head fondly and laughed. “And she might have won this year as well if she hadn’t given one of the judges a broken nose and some concern about his future fatherhood abilities.”

“He asked for it Nancy! You know, you were there! The fucken prick, I should have….”

“Hush.” Nancy interrupted. “I didn’t say he didn’t deserve it. But there are other avenues and that’s what tonight is all about. Speaking of which, we’d better get on with it, we’re running short on time.” She went back to her bean bag and wine bladder. “So, who’s next? Matrick?”

“I’ll give it a bash but I don’t feel right about this, Nance.” The voice emerged in a rich bass tone, rumbling up from somewhere deep in his throat. Matrick truly was a giant, rising to his feet to tower over them all – Jack measured him at about six feet nine or ten. He was all athlete, the whole of his immense frame bunching with muscles that were so defined he seemed to have no fat whatsoever. Usually such tall people are disproportionate in one way or another but Matrick defied the rule, presenting instead as a Tarzan or Hercules. He had the classic looks to match as well, strong square jaw, broad chiselled features and large, smiling, baby blue eyes. His yellow-blonde hair was cut short and sharp and somehow managed to look athletic in its own right. The massive smile was absolutely charming.

Jack disliked him already, hoping, irrationally he knew, that Matrick would prove himself to be brain dead. The look on the Ashcroft’s face equated with his own he was ashamed to notice but the tall read haired girl was captivated.

“So. I’m twenty-five. I was born and raised in an arty little German replica town called Hahndorf, out of Adelaide, where me parents….” He faltered, shuffling his feet uncomfortably and turned to Nancy. “Aw fuck, Nance. I dunno about this. Do we really hafta lay it all down? Can’t I skip a few bits?” Jack smiled to himself, his hopes were being confirmed.

“It’s up to you Mat.” She replied. “But you know what I want and you know I wouldn’t ask without good reason.”

“Shit! Alright then.” He began again with greater resolve. “I was born and raised near Adelaide where me….fathers met and fell in love. Me early childhood was pretty normal I s’pose, well, ‘til I went to school anyway. I didn’t know any different, did I? To tell the truth I’m fucked if I know whether I did or not, but when I think back to those early days all I remember is happiness. Took me a long time to admit that but it’s true. All sorts of people have tried to tell me over the years that it must’ve really screwed me up bad but I don’t think that happened ‘til other kids learnt about me domestic life.

“School! I’ll always remember school as a place where you have to be wary. I was always afraid of what each day would bring. If I was lucky it was just taunts but as often as not it was a punch-up. I was that bruised, nervy kid at the back of the class, the one….”

“Ludicrous!” Bradley interrupted. “Take a peek in the mirror at your earliest convenience, Action Man. Absolutely ridiculous. Please explain to me how someone the size of an erect mountain gorilla can be bruised by mere mortals.” He rose to his feet with the same effort Nancy might have expended. Probably with good reason, Jack realised, he should have noticed Bradley was obese from the start but compared to Nancy everyone was thin. Standing now with his fists on his hips and his face strained red from mixed exertion and ire it was obvious, Bradley was the proverbial fat nerd.

“You doubt’n me, man?” Matrick asked in a deep, quiet voice. Jack expected outrage at the interruption and something more for the sarcastic accusation but the giant was calm, nonplussed. He could have been asking “You want fries with that?”

Bradley had apparently been expecting more himself and was suddenly lost for words. The struggle played itself out on his round face for a few moments, the ruddy glow on his cheeks deepening. He turned abruptly on Nancy. “I renew my disapproval of this hair-brained experiment! Let us simply grant that we are a screwed up congregation and leave it at that. We can forgo these irrelevant embellishments and move on to the assigned task. God knows how many other literary rape victims and dainty gorillas we have amongst us. No, in my opinion the sooner we commence the sooner we can be rid of each other.” He actually stamped his foot.

Nancy’s look was stern but she remained silent.

“You doubt’n me, man?” Matrick repeated as Kareena leapt furiously to her feet.

“I think the fat cocksucker doubts all of us!” She yelled. “Is that it, Fat Boy? You calling me a liar? Well? Cause if you are I’m gonna slice your fat carcass open right here and now.” By way of exclamation a knife hilt suddenly appeared in her hand and a long blade flicked out, pointing at Bradley.

The red head, who had been glancing around nervously, rose awkwardly to her feet and limped quickly to the rear of the room. “Keep them away.” Jack heard her muttering almost under her breath. “Don’t let them touch me.” He was surprised himself at how rapidly the mood had degenerated but the red head was obviously terrified.

Bradley barked a short triumphant laugh and gesturing with his left hand he turned to Nancy. “Look! What did I tell you. A living, breathing catastrophe is what we have here. A gaggle of brainless cretins and jail-bait vying for the most unbelievable hard-luck story.” In his excitement he was running out of breath but his precise articulation never wavered.

Nancy was now sitting upright and tense but although concern was etched in her features she continued her silence. Jack took his cue from her, deciding not to interfere, trusting that she knew these people well enough to let the situation play itself out safely. Meanwhile both Kareena, mean and smiling in anticipation, and Matrick, composed but no less foreboding, approached Bradley. The latter began to edge back slowly, looking around for the stairway. Quiet sobbing could be heard from the far end of the room.

Bradley raised his arms as he retreated. “Wait a minute. I meant nothing personal.” There was panic in his voice and perspiration ran down his face in rivulets. The blonde giant and the sleek girl in black continued on, each diverging to a different side as if on signal. Bradley turned to Nancy, saw there was going to be no help from that quarter, and suddenly dashed for the stairs. Kareena was quicker though, leaping the last several feet to tackle him to the ground. They rolled awkwardly, a pair of tangled bodies and crashed into the landing banister which broke under the impact and fell outwards. Unable to check her roll, Kareena sailed over the edge with the banister but Bradley was hooked at the last second, his pants catching on one of the splintered posts. Kareena’s decent could be heard as a series of dull thuds and then there was a moment of silence followed by a spat curse through pain clenched teeth. “Your fucken dead, Fat Boy!”

Bradley, just beginning to whimper, was suddenly hoisted aloft by Matrick who swung him unceremoniously back to the landing where he thudded heavily on his backside. Despite all that had occurred the blonde man remained composed as he then knelt over the one he had just rescued. Carefully, even gently, he cupped Bradley’s chin in one massive hand and turned his head until their eyes met. Bradley froze, eyes wide.

“You doubt’n me, man?”

“I…Ah…Ah…I…Um…Ah…Oh God!”

“Relax, I aint gonna hurt ya, Ashcroft. I just wanna establish somethin’ here. I don’t lie. Ya seem to be doubt’n me but I want ya to know, I don’t lie.”

Bradley finally found voice, albeit soft and croaking. “S-sorry, I w-was not aware. I am n-not doubt’n, I mean, doubting, I was, I am not d-doubting you. Alright? I apologise for the misconception. Indeed I would ask for your merciful forgiveness.”

“Okay.” Matrick agreed as if it was already forgotten. He stood back up.

“Not okay at all!” Kareena ascended the stairs slowly but purposefully, leaning against the wall for support. She was obviously hurt in some way, the grimace she wore was more pain than anger and blood ran freely from a cut over her left eye. “Out of the way, Tarzan.” She touched Matrick on the arm. “Fat Boy and I have some unfinished dissecting to take care of.”

“No, Kareena.” He said impassively. “Ya can’t do it, it aint right.”

“What? Who gives a shit about right? He’s got it coming so move aside.”

“No.”

“Well fuck you too, then.” She moved to pass around her human obstacle, knife ready and out-stretched, but as she neared the cringing Bradley her injuries caused her to stumble and she fell. Matrick caught her easily around the waist with one arm, his free hand awkwardly plucking the knife from her grasp.

“Give it up, girl.” He said. “Ya’ not in any condition for this anyway. Sit down and lets have a look at what’s causin’ you pain.” She moaned as he lowered her gently to the ground and Bradley shuffled quickly out of range. “There. Now where’s it hurt?”

“I’m all right.” She protested and shoved his arms away. Matrick’s look was disbelieving. “I said I’m fine. Piss off already! And take the fat prick with you!” He obliged her, grabbing Bradley by the collar and dragging him over to the bean bags. They both sat.

Jack shrugged to himself, shucking off the expectant tension and looked around the room. He hadn’t moved during the entire event but simply watched, ready for any threat to himself and only himself. Now he relaxed, confident that the incident was over and waited to see what would happen next. Kareena sat against the wall on the landing not looking at anyone, trying her best to appear mean and free of pain. The tall red head, hunched in her contrasting electric green jumpsuit, cowered in the back corner, rocking slightly and mumbling something repetitive under her breath. Bradley sat stiffly, staring straight ahead without seeing. Matrick was actually smiling, he seemed pleased that his story had been effectively postponed. Nancy had resumed her reclining posture with obvious relief but her concern remained evident. As he watched her, Jack wondered whether he should just get up and leave, write the night off as a wasted exercise and go home to play with his new room mate. The environment was just too volatile. Hell, he didn’t owe these people anything, he didn’t want to get involved, no, as far as he was concerned there was only one person in the room worth worrying about and that was Jack. Look out for Jack. Find out who he is, who he was, who he might become.

When it came right down to it, Jack didn’t care about other people very much at all. How could he? On what basis could he judge them when he didn’t have a past? A year may have passed since The Accident but still each new day brought new revelations about who he was, telling him what he liked, what he believed in, what motivated him, everything. He was like a blank disk, already formatted but only able to operate on the data input up to the last entry. And every day new data was revealed, redefining who he was. One day he might feel a total rapport with someone and a few days later learn that all along they were doing something he despised. That didn’t occur often, most of the time he was guided by his instinct, but every now and then he would be required to contemplate an issue in depth and as frequently as not, a whole new belief system would suddenly click in to place. As if it had always been there – one minute grey uncertainty and the next minute black and white definition. It was disconcerting and so in order to keep as much control over his life as possible he tried not to get too deeply involved with others. So maybe he should just get up and leave.

Then there was Nancy. It didn’t matter how much he changed, evolved, remembered, his feelings for her remained rock steady, and he owed her at least, even if the others were unimportant. What should he do, go or stay? He watched her take a draught from her wine bladder, noticing how beads of sweat had dried on her bulbous face and suddenly his heart was filled with pity. She was trying her best and she truly cared. She wanted them to succeed, not because of the need for results but because she was honestly compassionate to their various plights. She knew them, knew him, she would only do what was best for them all. And he owed her. He made his decision.

“My name is Jack.” He said tentatively, pleased to notice all those in view turning to look at him. “At best guess I am twenty-seven years old, that’s assuming I have lived the average life style of the average Australian male. I don’t know my birthday so I chose one, as I did my name, at random, selecting the twenty-second of August, the date my new life began. So, I might be twenty-seven years of age but in a way I will be one year old today-week.” He stopped, seeing that Bradley obviously had a question. He was amazed at the audacity, coming so soon after the recent episode but rather than incite a repeat of it he nodded his approval.

“Trust me when I say this interruption is well considered.” He glanced towards Kareena. “It seems to me however, that you may have neglected a portion of your narrative. I cannot….” At Jack’s raised hand he stopped speaking.

“Bear with me for a minute okay, I’m just getting to it. It’s like this: Almost a year ago I woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection of who I was, no memories at all except for the basic functions of living, like breathing and eating; and basic objects – like, I knew I was in hospital, that the thing I was lying on was a bed, that the stuff streaming in through the window was sunlight. Get the picture?”

“Remote retrograde amnesia, but obviously not post traumatic or we would not be having this conversation.”

Jack spun around in surprise to see the red head approaching, showing no outward sign of her earlier trouble except perhaps for an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. The limp he had noticed earlier was obviously a permanent condition. “Sorry.” She said shyly. “I know a little about the amnesias, that’s all, having….ah, experienced it myself once.” She resumed her previous seat.

“I see.” For a moment he considered discussing the topic in more detail but decided it would be wiser not to reveal all his secrets, at least not at this early stage. “Anyway, from that day to this I have been in the care of Nancy and William, my psychiatrist, the only family I have as noone else has stepped forward to claim me.

“After leaving hospital, they released me fairly quickly having no physical injuries, I went to a half-way house.” He shared a smile with Nancy. “That was an experience and a half, this little group seems relatively normal in comparison, but what else could I do, I didn’t have an identity. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to live in this world without I.D. We had some interesting times, didn’t we Nancy, with Social Security, the Registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages, the banks, the police? I couldn’t even join the local library back then. It’s bizarre, a year has passed and although I get welfare, with Nancy as signatory, I am not eligible for a drivers license, I can’t vote and I won’t qualify for consideration as a naturalised citizen for another twelve months. I’m pretty much a nobody.” Jack paused as Kareena rose to rejoin the group.

She walked carefully, in the manner of someone who has been badly bruised but she seemed unconcerned. She had staunched the bleeding above her eye but dried blood was smeared across her forehead which made it look worse than it should have. As she sat she asked, “Missing Persons didn’t come up with a match, I take it?”

“Good question.” Bradley seconded.

“I didn’t ask you, Fat Boy.”

Bradley opened his mouth, an obvious retort on his lips, but Nancy got in ahead of him. “That’ll be enough, you two. I was prepared to let it go once but we don’t have enough time, or insurance, for any more childishness so just drop it. Remember, if you don’t get along you fail. Go on, Jack.”

Jack watched the two antagonists fume for a moment before continuing. “Okay. You can take my word for it, nobody has been able to determine who I am. Nobody. There was not one single incident in the entire country at that time which could possibly have included me. It’s as if I suddenly appeared out of thin air, in fact if I hadn’t had the basic memory I did, you could almost say I was born that night – born as a fully grown man.”

Matrick whistled. “Man! Gives me goosebumps just thinkin’ about it. Shit, ya coulda been abducted by aliens or somethin’. Or maybe, maybe some weird scientist made ya, like cloning.” He whistled again. “Man, that’s somethin’.”

It went quiet. Jack had entertained these thoughts himself, the alien scenario anyway, but never very seriously. It felt decidedly peculiar to have another person voice these theories though, it made the skin on the back of his neck crawl. But that wasn’t really the problem. It was the half glimpsed, unfathomable nightmares that shocked him awake in the middle of the night. It was the sudden and alarming reactions he had to things, like the police car earlier in the night, that made no sense, came from an unknown past. It was the not knowing. It was the ever burgeoning sensation that something catastrophic was immanent and he was powerless against it.

And then he laughed. “Well they did a good job I must say. The doctors found no signs of tampering at all, not so much as a bruise, no artificial substances, no brain or other internal damage. Nothing. No decisive reason was found for the semi-comatose state I was in, the stupor, except for a slight peculiarity in my electrical makeup which only showed up on the first reading and was subsequently considered to be an aberration in the equipment used.”

“Epilepsy!” Bradley almost shouted, causing Jack to start.

“Shit, is everyone here a doctor?” Jack asked.

“Bradley is epileptic.” Nancy responded. “It’s a result of a more serious condition which, well, I’ll let him explain later. Go on, Jack.”

“There isn’t much else to say. When I got the YARP Scholarship, Nancy signed me out of the half-way house and set me up with a couple of other escapees. By the way,” – he turned to Nancy – “what can you tell me about the new girl?”

Nancy grinned. “She’s a good girl, Jack but I recommend you get to know her quite well before you allow your hormones to act. Okay, that should be enough from Jack. Why don’t we get back to you, Matrick.” Jack cast a quick glance at Nancy but she wasn’t looking his way. For some reason she was letting him off lightly because although he had no desire to continue there was certainly more to say. He studied the others for a moment but didn’t see any question in their eyes. Strange, he couldn’t remember the number of times people had responded to his amnesia by saying, “Yes, but there isn’t actually anything wrong with you, is there?” But all the attention was focused back on Matrick.

Matrick sighed. “Oh well.” He stood up and commenced pacing, thumbs hooked through the front belt holes of his jeans, head down. “Ya hear all sorts of rumours about boardin’ schools and I s’pose a fair stack of ‘em are true. Ya know me parents were gay and ya know I grew up thinkin’ it was normal, so ya can guess what boardin’ school was like for me.” He paused facing Bradley and looked up. “As a kid I was fairly small, bit of a weed. I didn’t really start growin’ ‘til I reached puberty. Up ‘til then life wasn’t much fun unless I was home. I guess it was natural for me to become introverted in the beginnin’, noone likes to be picked on and at boardin’ school it can be a twenty-four hour thing.” He resumed pacing, slowly making his way towards the front windows.

“That’s when me life got all fucked up. I tried to fit in, be one of the guys. I messed around in class, broke rules on purpose and tried to act tough, ya know what I mean? I played down me artistic inheritance, both me Dads were artists, and concentrated instead on sports. Manly things, as I thought in those days. None of it worked of course, I was still branded a queer, a faggot. The ‘Pillow Biter’ is what they called me.

“By the time I was thirteen my course was pretty much set. I was about the worst student at the school and it was far too late to catch up, the guys weren’t interested in me, the girls weren’t interested in me and the only people who really befriended me – other outcasts, nerds, geeks, other boys with homosexual tendencies, etcetera – I turned away from, shunned.” At the window he rested his huge forehead on the glass, gazing unseeing upon the dark world outside.

“I had a single room on the third floor at that age and I used to stand at the window like this for hours at a time, lookin’ at nothin’ and wonderin’ what it’d be like to smash through the glass. If they found me dead on the ground next mornin’ that’d show ‘em wouldn’t it?” He turned back to the group wiping his eyes but smiling. “Ya’ wondering if I’m gay I s’pose. Well I’m sorry but ya gonna hafta keep wonderin’ about that.

“About the time I started shootin’ up in height I was into footy, trainin’ hard even though I never got a game. Football is a mans sport, of course, so I kept at it. Then, seemed like all of a sudden, I was taller than all the other kids, and bigger. How life changed! Hell, the star ruckman can’t be a gay nerd can he? No, I was one of the guys at last!” He laughed but there was no mirth in the sound. “One of the guys. On the field but not off. And definitely not in the locker rooms. Well, I’m overdoin’ it a bit I s’pose, for a while there it was okay, they did accept me, let me join in. Sex was the problem though. At sixteen when most of the guys were experienced and all had at least had a girlfriend, I was still confused. I went to all the best parties, danced and raged and drank like one of the boys but….I didn’t know girls, didn’t know how to act when they were around and, shit, it wasn’t like that at home was it? Me first date was a total balls-up and that pretty much ruined me. Teenage sexual frustration forced me to try it the other way, it seemed more natural somehow and I s’pose it was, for a while. Turned out it was familiar ground that’s all, but it wasn’t who I was. I gave up sex for a long time but we’ve all got urges and….” He stopped and turned back to the window and when he continued his voice was unusually quiet. “I don’t wanna do this any more, Nance.”

Nancy rose lugubriously and waddled over to him, put her arm up around his waist as best she could and guided him back to the others. “Matrick was invited to try out for the Adelaide Crows at sixteen and the following year they signed him up.” She patted his broad back encouragingly and indicated he should sit. “He was a star from the first game and a distinguished career ensued.” Nancy squatted down beside Matrick’s bean bag in a way that made Jack nervous; she seemed to be protective of him suddenly.

“I knew it.” The red head exclaimed. “I knew it was you but I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. Mad Mat the Slayer, pseudonym for Matrick Slay. I’ve seen you play at the S.C.G. I barrack for the Swans and you were playing the day we went down by a record twenty-eight goals just a few years back – sixteen of those goals were yours. Wow, what a performance that was.” Jack couldn’t believe how animated she had become but as if she had suddenly realised the fact herself, she blushed and apologised.

Matrick didn’t respond. In fact rather than being pleased by the memory he actually appeared frightened. Jack’s nervousness increased, something was going on here and he wasn’t sure he liked the feel of it.

“Mat?” Nancy prompted.

The big man started. “I can’t, Nance.” He stared at the floor, gently shaking his blonde head. “It never sounds right, can’t ever sound right.”

“It’s now or never, Mat. This whole thing won’t work unless you get it out in the open. You’ve got to try it some time. Look, I’ll leave it up to you but you know how I feel.”

Matrick looked up briefly, cast a rapid glance at each face, lingering on Kareena perhaps and lowered his head once more. For quite a long while he wouldn’t speak and noone else seemed willing to interfere with what was obviously a delicate moment. When finally he spoke it was softly, almost inaudibly, with his huge shoulders shaking from crying. “I….I” His voice broke. “I….Early last year, in January, I was charged and taken into custody for….for….rape.” He stopped. The desire to speak was obvious but he was choked with emotion.

Jack turned instantly to Kareena, tensing for an outraged explosion but she simply sat there, stunned, staring at Matrick with an expression that could only have been betrayal. Then she shuddered, frowned, rose slowly to her feet and approached Matrick, all the while clenching and unclenching her fists. “Give me my knife.” She said, voice controlled but menacing. Everyone in the room shuffled apprehensively as Matrick pulled out the weapon and offered it up.

“No!” From Nancy and Bradley together but Kareena snatched it adroitly off his palm and flicked out the blade. Matrick simply watched, tears streaming down his face and made no attempt to protect himself.

“I should stick you with this, you cunt.” She growled. She turned quickly away, heading for the stairs at a run.

“Damn!” Nancy swore to herself, and then: “Kareena, wait! Come back, you have to hear him out!” But Kareena was already downstairs, still running. The door clicked from its latch and then slammed shut. “Damn!” Nancy swore again. “Jack, go! You’ve got to get her back.”

“What? Me? What for?”

“Matrick is innocent. Most likely.”

“Most likely? Shit, Nancy, you heard her story. Most likely, Jesus!”

“This is important, Jack. Tonight is very important; you have to get her back!”

“Shit.” It was Nancy’s manner that finally persuaded Jack to move, he had never seen her flustered like this, she was always so calm and in control. He ran.

Out in the street there was no sign of Kareena so he chose the Grattan St direction and moved off, cursing as the rain began to fall. What the Hell am I doing here! He wondered angrily as he ran, leaping and skipping to avoid the puddles that were already forming on the footpath. This is utter madness! Nancy’s scheme had better work or….

“Stay back!” Kareena’s furious voice spat from the darkness.

Startled almost out of his skin, Jack slid to a halt and spun around, gazing into the semi-darkness of a front porch belonging to one of the many Victorian buildings. At first he couldn’t see her at all but when she moved slightly he spotted her, a shadow amongst the shadows.
“If you know what’s good for you, stay back!”

Jack’s own anger suddenly multiplied. First he was made to chase her, in the rain, then she scared the shit out of him and now she was threatening him, it was too much. He took a step and kicked the gate in the low fence open. “Know what’s good for me?” He snapped. “I’ll tell you what’s good for me.” He walked onto the short path, watching as Kareena drew further back into the shadows. “It’s good for me to be home, it’s good for me to be warm and dry, it’s good for me to be anywhere but right here, right now.” He stepped onto the porch and stopped. Now that he was so close he wasn’t sure how to proceed; Kareena, obviously afraid and armed, could be capable of anything, he didn’t want to back her into a corner. And didn’t she have a right to be defensive anyway?

The dilemma resolved itself in a flash. Hissing, Kareena emerged from the shadows brandishing her knife, aiming it directly for Jack’s chest as she lunged forward. Jack reacted quickly, lashing out with his left hand he grasped her right wrist just behind the knife, ducked under her arm and wrenched it half way up her back so that the knife was poking her between the shoulder blades. She screamed in pain and anger and began flailing her free arm about, trying to hit him in any way she could. When this proved unsuccessful she mule-kicked him twice in the shins, hard, with the heels of her boots. Jack became furious and without thinking he looped his injured leg in front hers, planted his foot and shoved mightily. Kareena hit the ground perfectly horizontal with a resounding whack and Jack dropped on top of her. The sound of her fall and the audible whoosh of air from her lungs alarmed Jack as much as the cold blade of the knife slicing across his left palm. With his good hand he grabbed the knife and tossed it out onto the street. He then rolled Kareena on her side and arranged her arms to assist her laboured breathing. She was obviously winded. Wrapping a torn off section of his shirt around his bleeding hand he asked the girl if she was okay. She seemed so frail and petite lying there beside him on the porch.

“I’ve been raped before, remember.” The words were intended to be harsh but she was panting so heavily they emerged as barely a whisper.

“Is that what you think this is? Just who attacked who here, sister? No, I’m sorry to disappoint you Kareena but sex and violence isn’t my scene.” He rose from his crouched position, realising all of a sudden how the situation might look to anyone passing by. He looked around, grateful that the immediate building and street seemed to be deserted, looked back at Kareena and sat down.

“Changed your mind?” She asked. Her breathing was calming down but her temper wasn’t.

“Look, I’m sorry I did that, didn’t even know I could to be honest.” The surprise in his voice was genuine. “I’m not really like that, I hate violence, it doesn’t make sense! It was the knife I guess. Look Kareena, I heard your story and I was moved by it. I mean that. Ah shit, I don’t even know what I’m doing here, I don’t want to get involved. I’ve got my own problems for Christ’s sake!” He shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

“You’re for real, aren’t you?” She had propped herself up on one elbow and was breathing almost normally. Jack was impressed by her speed of recovery.

“What do you mean?”

“All that stuff about amnesia, it’s true isn’t it. I mean, I didn’t believe it before but, I don’t know, it seems to fit somehow.”

“It does?”

“Yeah. Before, when I attacked you, you knew exactly what you wanted to do and yet you didn’t know you could. It surprised you, I saw it in your face. Now you don’t know what you want, you don’t know if you want to be involved or not and that doesn’t surprise you at all. You’re a weird guy, Jack.”

“Gee, thanks, I feel much better about it now.”

“Weird but okay.” She looked away but held out her hand. “Help me up will you, my whole body has been bruised tonight.”

“Sure, sorry.” He helped her to her feet, holding her hand until her equilibrium returned.

“Don’t be.” She released her hand nervously. “As usual I’m the only one to blame. So, what do we do now?”

“Go back, I guess.” He suggested.

“Are you serious? Come on Jack, you heard my story and then you heard his. Would you go back if you were me?” It was plain she wanted his support.

“How can I know that? Look, all I heard him say was that he was charged, that doesn’t mean he was convicted. Besides, Nancy seems to think he’s innocent.”

Kareena considered that for a moment, walking to the end of the porch and back while she opened a new packet of cigarettes. She offered one to Jack and he lit them both up with his Zippo, a little surprised to find a fellow smoker in this day and age, especially one who was reputedly an aerobics champion. “You smoke?” He couldn’t help the obvious question. She held up her cigarette as if that was answer enough, her mind was focused elsewhere. He thought for a moment of mentioning the blood on her forehead but decided against it.

“This is how it is, Jack: If I’m prepared I can cope with it. I can expose myself to it for brief periods but then I have to shut it off because if I think about it too much I go crazy – just like I did a minute ago. My whole life was dominated by rape for a while, a long while, and the injustice of it….Sometimes I dream of killing those people, slowly, painfully. The worst sorts of torture, you know….I can get pretty crazy, Jack. But as long as

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