Chapter 43 Polly #2
Reubyn does what he’s told, and moves around the bus, checking every opening.
Jessie lets go of a quiet whine. Another thought occurs to Polly. The bus was unlocked when they got back.
‘George, check the bedroom,’ Polly says. ‘Check all the wardrobes and under the bed.’
‘Why do you want me to—’ He nods, realising the answer.
George ushers Reubyn to join him and walks slowly through the kitchen and towards the bedroom.
Reubyn follows timidly behind George, who peers inside.
Polly holds her breath as she waits for them to return.
They all sit in silence, staring at the door.
After about thirty seconds, they return, and George shrugs.
‘It’s clear,’ Reubyn says.
Polly sits up straight. The pills have taken effect. ‘Are you absolutely sure? Is there anywhere else someone could be hiding in here?’
Reubyn looks around the space, scanning high and low. He shakes his head. ‘The storage areas are all really small and compact. There’s no one in here but us.’
‘And are you certain there’s no way somebody could get in?’
Reubyn nods. ‘I guarantee it.’
Polly stares out of the window. They have no electricity and soon they’ll be stuck here in the pitch-dark.
The discussion turns to light sources. They have no idea how much life remains in the batteries of their torch.
Only Reubyn and Faith have any significant level of charge on their phones.
Faith goes rummaging about in search of any other electrical devices that might emit even the slightest illumination and finds a clock radio with a digital display of the time: 19:58.
But that’s all there is. George hangs the torch from a clip in the ceiling, creating a yellow shaft of light and a spotlight on the floor.
When that runs out, they’ll swap the torch for a phone and flashlight app.
Jessie is muttering to herself again, keeps repeating little phrases that suggest she is struggling to accept the reality of their situation. You’ve got to be kidding me. No way. This can’t be happening.
But it is happening. Denial is the first stage of grief – Polly was taught that when she was thirteen and her lurcher Coco had to be put down.
The second stage of grief, if she remembers correctly, is anger.
Although there has been plenty of that flying around already.
The subject of their grief isn’t totally clear cut.
No one has paid any kind of tribute to Elis, and everyone is stressed and in shock.
Devastated, even. But Polly suspects most of them are currently preoccupied by their own mortality rather than Elis’s.
Their grief, at least for the time being, is reserved for themselves.
Darkness settles over the forest, and the conversation becomes less frantic.
A grim discussion takes place. It seems they’ll have to wait until dawn before making their next move.
Given what’s happened, it’s not safe to go anywhere right now.
But, at first light, one, some, or all of them – depending on the state of Polly’s ankle – will be walking out of this forest to get help and raise the alarm.
At that point, they’ll also conduct another search of the bus, including the storage areas that can only be accessed from the exterior.
It’s possible that a vehicle as blinged out as this one will have an additional battery or generator that they can use for a jump start.
Both Reubyn and George claim they have the ability to perform one, but Polly isn’t convinced – this kind of man-flexing is so rarely backed up by meaningful action.
The display on the clock radio reads 21:35.
No one is exactly sure what time dawn will come, but their best guess is sometime between five and six.
That means they’ll be stuck in here for eight hours at least. Polly is certain no one will be getting any sleep in that time.
Even if one of them possessed the kind of zen ability to nod off under such stressful circumstances, it wouldn’t be safe. They need to be vigilant.
Their conversation peters out, and the only sound is the thrum of the elements.
The view out of the window is of nothing but empty blackness.
There are no trees or branches, just the reflection of Polly’s own miserable face staring back at her.
She has bags under her eyes, and her hair is frizzed and wild. The hair of an animal.
They’ve been sat silently for a minute or so, when Reubyn clears his throat. ‘Guys. There’s something I should probably tell you.’
The grave tone of his speech seizes the attention of everyone. They all sit up.
Reubyn opens his mouth to speak, then closes it. Their stares have clearly unnerved him, and he rubs at his temple. ‘It’s not a big deal, in the scheme of things, really.’
Polly feels a tingle in her veins. She’s mightily close to losing her temper with him. ‘What are you talking about? Come on, out with it.’
‘I probably should have told you before we came here.’
‘Reubyn,’ Polly snaps. ‘Stop blathering and say it.’
He takes a deep breath, shakes his head. ‘The thing is, when the police arrive, they’re going to have questions about why we’re here.’
Polly’s eye twitches. ‘And why’s that, Reubyn?’
‘Well, strictly speaking, we’re not supposed to be here. The reserve is closed to the public due to a conservation project.’
Polly growls with disapproval, along with a few others. ‘It’s because of that bloody bird, isn’t it? The kākāpō?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that’s why there’s no one else here?’
‘I suppose it is, yes.’
‘For God’s sake, Reubyn.’ Miles rocks forward, spitting his words. ‘What are you playing at?’
‘All right, let’s not get carried away. It’s not that big a deal.’
‘Yes it is, Reubyn.’
Reubyn’s brow furrows and he pulls his head back defensively, like a boxer dodging a blow. ‘Calm down. I accept it isn’t ideal. But let’s not blow it out of all proportion. Compared to a murder, it’s pretty insignificant.’
Miles stands and begins gesticulating with his arms. ‘I think it would’ve been fair if I could’ve decided for myself if it was relevant. Honestly, Reubyn, you act like a bloody idiot sometimes.’
Reubyn looks wounded by that last comment. He stares at his own fidgeting hands for a moment, then glares at Miles. ‘Well, you haven’t been entirely honest yourself, have you? With Jessie for example.’
Polly winces. Reubyn’s words have changed the atmosphere, and the temperature seems to have suddenly dropped by a couple of degrees. Miles stares into his lap, and for a moment no one speaks.
‘Miles?’ Jessie’s voice is timid and confused.
Polly puts her face in her hands. ‘For God’s sake, Reubyn, why now?’
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s the stress of . . . of everything. I’m sorry.’ He turns to Jessie. ‘Forget I said anything, okay?’
Jessie ignores him; her eyes are trained on Miles. ‘What’s he talking about?’
Polly squeezes her eyes closed. She wishes they didn’t have to go through all this now. But they do. Polly is certain of that. Because if Miles doesn’t tell Jessie the truth, Polly will. If only to put him out of his bloody misery.