The Other Side of Beautiful by Kim Lock

Author:Kim Lock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQ Fiction
Published: 2021-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

All Mercy could find to treat Andy’s scalp wound were tissues, and as she was digging through her supplies hoping she might have, at some point, bought hand sanitiser, she realised Wasabi wasn’t yapping at her, waggling his fat body or licking her face.

‘Wasabi?’ Craning to look over the seat, she checked in the back but it was empty. Wasabi wasn’t in the van at all.

Slamming the door, Mercy jogged a lap of the van. She whistled, calling out, ‘Here, boy!’

Nothing. Just the track disappearing around a bend, the breeze shushing in the bushes, sunlight and shadow.

Andy was crouched in the shade of the van, palm to his forehead. Flies buzzed at the blood seeping down his forearm and dripping from his elbow, plopping into the dust.

‘I can’t find Wasabi,’ Mercy said, alarmed.

‘What?’ Andy looked up. His face was pale.

Pushing him gently off his haunches, she sat him on the sand and lifted his palm away from his forehead. Fresh blood welled up. Matted hair clumped over the laceration in his hairline but Mercy couldn’t see bone so, reassured, she wadded a large handful of tissues and pressed them onto the wound.

‘Ow!’ Andy cried.

‘Sorry. Here, hold this.’ She took his hand and pressed it back over the tissues. ‘Keep some pressure on it. You’ll live.’

After giving Andy a cup of water, Mercy jogged up the track, calling out to the dog. Putting her fingers between her teeth, she gave a long, sharp whistle, a shrill burst that echoed through the scrub and sent birds aloft and screeching.

‘Wasabi!’

Spinning on her heel, she saw Andy staggering towards her, hand on his head.

‘What’s going on?’

‘I can’t find the dog. He’s run off. And you should be sitting down.’

‘Ah, shit. Are you sure?’

‘Wasabi!’ she bellowed.

Andy winced. ‘I’ll check the van again. Maybe he’s tucked himself away somewhere.’

‘The noise of the engine frightened him. I shouldn’t have left him.’

‘Was the door open?’

‘The windows are down. He must have jumped out. Oh god,’ Mercy said, putting her hands to her own forehead. ‘It’s such a long jump for his little legs. What if he’s hurt? Wasabi!’

They checked under the seats, inside the cabinets, and Mercy even checked under the mattress but there was nothing but tinned beans, cask water and human remains. Andy needed to sit down again, so he leaned against the van and checked underneath, looking behind all the wheels while Mercy wove in and out of the bush along the edge of the track, calling out, her voice growing increasingly panicked.

‘Wasabi, come here!’

But Wasabi did not come.

Digging out a can of beans, she whacked it with a spoon, yelling out, ‘Din din dinner!’

Nothing.

‘Shit!’

Stepping off the track, Mercy pushed further into the bush but thick melaleuca clawed at her and when she turned in a circle, she momentarily lost sight of the van and then she couldn’t breathe.

A typical puppy, Wasabi had been. Chewed what he wasn’t supposed to: books on the bottom shelves of the bookcase; the vacuum cleaner cord; shoes (he particularly loved Mercy’s work sneakers, redolent of blood and piss and vomit).

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