Pig Boy by J.C. Burke

Author:J.C. Burke
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2011-09-05T04:00:00+00:00

Perhaps the Pigman has conspired with the powers above, because the night has suddenly turned wild, just like his mood. The wind is howling, its whistle ripping through the trees like a screeching banshee.

A saucepan, a milk crate, two plates fly across our camp and into the back of the ute. They are not leaving the way they arrived, neatly packed in a specially marked box.

My job is to dismantle and pack up the tent. I haven’t made good progress. For the last few minutes I’ve been sprawled, spread-eagled over the canvas, trying to fold it away before it’s airborne and lost forever in the trees.

‘Time to go. Time to go!’ The Pigman is shouting these three words and nothing else. It’s not quite 4 am. He’s given no explanation as to why it’s time to go and there’s no point asking.

‘Time to go. Time to go!’ I look up from my prone position to see the Pigman storming towards me, the shovel in his hands. I have no idea what he’s contemplating. I shut my eyes, hear the metal of the spade smash against the ute, then feel the Pigman’s weight on top of me as he helps to wrestle the tent into submission.

‘You take dogs!’ he yells right in my ear. ‘And water bowls get too.’

I’m up; relieved to be away from his brandy-stained breath that heaves and rasps, ‘Time to go. Time to go.’

Sara and Slatko are huddled behind the back wheel. I scoop up Sara and lie him in the front seat.

The Pigman’s fist bashes the floor of the tray. Slatko jumps up and a cloud of green canvas lands in behind him.

‘Time to go,’ the Pigman growls as he starts the engine, slamming the gear stick into reverse. ‘Time to –’

‘But the tent,’ I interrupt the madness. ‘We need to secure it. We’ll lose it or Slatko will get caught up and …’

He thumps his fist on the wheel. ‘No time! We must go.’

‘But there’s nowhere to go!’ I yell back to remind him that I can get loud too. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like there’s a cosy house to shelter in and, and a fat lady with red cheeks to make us hot chocolates and …’

But there’s no point continuing. The Pigman isn’t listening. He’s on a one-way mission, gripping the steering wheel, his nose almost squashed against the windscreen and driving for his life.

‘I reckon the storm was going to pass anyway. It wasn’t that far inland.’ I know I’m the only one listening to me but it would be nice to know what the rush was about. ‘That’s my opinion. Not that I’d know anything about my own country’s weather patterns. Oh no, not me. The foreigner would know more, of course!’

I must be wearing Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak because as far as the Pigman’s concerned, I’m not here. So I might as well finish my night’s sleep.

I yawn and stretch my legs as far as the boxy ute will let me, then wrap my arm around Sara while he nuzzles into my lap.

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