Undertow by Kim Bambrook

Author:Kim Bambrook [Chuck]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kim Bambrook
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

twenty-two

Maz

The bruised clouds look like bunches of purple grapes after a good stomping. I shiver violently as I rifle through my bags, then hastily strip off my sodden clothes and pull on my thermals. The upper branches of trees lay horizontal in strong gusts, and I’m relieved to be in the sheltered campground, which is nestled beyond the tree line. I quickly set up Aaron’s tent, ensure it is secure, then inflate his sleeping mat and lay out the sleeping bag.

Coughs rack Aaron’s body as I help him to untie his boots and set them outside the tent. Protected from the wind in the tent’s confines, Aaron pulls his wet shirt over his head. I can’t help but notice the wastage of his body and how each rib protrudes. I turn away as Aaron pulls on his thermal top then drags himself awkwardly into the sleeping bag. He draws the down cover up to his chest and rolls on his side to grope through his belongings that are scattered untidily around us. Finding his tobacco pouch and fumbling with it, marijuana leaves pick up and blow around the tent in little flurries. I gently ease the pouch from his cold fingers.

‘I’ll roll the joint for you. Get warm and I’ll be back to you in a few moments.’

He sighs and lies down in answer. I crawl out of the tent, tobacco pouch in hand.

Squatting with my back to the wind in imitation of Aaron, I try vainly to keep the tobacco inside the paper. Fumbling, the small task becomes an enormity I struggle to deal with. I want to scream, to lie down somewhere soft, and to eat – all are of equal priority. But overriding anything I desire is Aaron’s need of the medicinal properties of marijuana. Now, more than ever, I long to give him that comfort.

‘Here, let me help you.’

The voice startles me and I yelp in surprise. Wondering if I am delusional, I can only stare dumbly.

There is a woman standing in front of me. She looks real enough as she laughs and beckons for me to hand her the tobacco. Our hands meet and I know with certainty that this is not an apparition, but an actual person in front of me.

‘I’m tempted to ask for a roach, but it looks like your friend needs it more than me.’

She indicates the tent with a nod of her head and a wry smile. Her Canadian accent is evident and she looks sure of herself, dark eyes merry. Where she has come from, I do not know. Perhaps her tent is sheltered behind trees. She rolls the joint deftly.

‘Thank you,’ I say, adding hopefully, ‘any chance you have an EPIRB?’

She shakes her head. I sigh deeply as I lean into the tent and hand the joint to Aaron.

He has his lighter at the ready and, with the first drag, eases his head back against a bunched-up coat. Almost instantly he sits up again as he succumbs to hawking.

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