Page 39 of The Vanishing Place

“What’s wrong with him?” cried Tia.

“I don’t know.” Effie touched a hand to Aiden’s forehead, his skin wet with sweat. “Aiden,” she whispered. “Aiden, can you hear me?”

Nothing. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The small curl of him lay motionless in the sleeping nook.

“I’m scared,” said Tia.

Effie wiped her hands on her top, her fingers slimy with her brother’s vomit, and wished for Aiden to open his eyes, to be him. She wished it with every part of her.

But then, it happened again.

Tia screamed as some invisible horror took hold of their brother.

It thrashed through him, distorting and twisting his limbs, jerking and tugging at him like a puppet pulled on strings.

Aiden’s arms spasmed and smacked into the mattress, over and over, his bones and skin banging against the floor and the hut wall.

“Make it stop,” cried Tia. “Make it stop.”

Effie scrambled, grabbing pillows and blankets, anything to soften the force of her brother cracking off the wood. Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I don’t know how.”

Aiden’s body arched, his scrawny frame contorting into a bridge of flesh and bone, and Effie pushed Tia back.

“He’s going to snap,” cried Tia. “His bones are going to snap.”

“Aiden!” Effie shouted as she reached out for him. “Stop it. Please stop it.”

Aiden’s arm lashed out, fist clenched, and whacked Effie hard across the nose. Pain exploded through her face, and something trickled into her mouth. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, tasting blood, and inched back.

“He’s going to kill himself.” Tears and snot drenched Tia’s words.

Shaking, Effie slipped her hand into Tia’s. They stood there, with Tia’s fingernails digging into Effie’s wrist, and watched Aiden thrash, seeing and feeling it all, not letting their little brother go through it alone.

When Aiden screamed, Effie thought she might throw up. Her brother coughed and wheezed, his face locked in a mask of terror. There was no movement to his jaw. It was as if his mouth was carved from stone, frozen in fear. Aiden screamed again, the sound chilling, and Effie burst into tears.

“Please, Aiden,” she whimpered. “Please stop.”

Eventually, as before, the invisible horror released what was left of him, and Aiden slumped to the mattress. His head lolled to the side and blood spilled from his mouth as he gurgled and spluttered. Effie rushed to him, scooping it from his mouth with two fingers.

“I don’t think he can swallow,” she said. “I think—”

“Why’s there so much blood?”

“I think he bit his tongue.”

Aiden murmured and opened his eyes. “Help me.”

Effie climbed over the mattress to lie next to him, and Tia knelt by his side, taking his hand, one hand for each sister.

“We’re here,” said Effie. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Dad?” muttered Aiden.

Effie looked at Tia, then back at her brother. Dad and Four had left early to go fishing. They’d left when Aiden was still whole. When Aiden was just a bit pale. Just a bit unwell. They’d gone to get him something nutritious for dinner, to fight off whatever winter bug he’d picked up.

“Dad will be back soon,” Effie lied.

She glanced at her watch, an old one of June’s, then bit into her cheeks. The last two times, they’d only had three minutes—three minutes before the horror stole him away. And each time, it gave a little bit less of her brother back.

“While we’re waiting for Dad,” she said, forcing herself to keep talking, to keep the fear from her voice, “I could tell us a story. A rugby story—you’d like that.”

Effie squeezed his hand, and she imagined the feel of him squeezing back. She imagined the sound of his voice and the size of his smile.

Please don’t die .

Then she supported his head as best she could so that the blood and saliva dribbled out of his lips, and she spoke into his ear.

“There was once a little boy called Aiden. He was only six years old, but he was the best rugby player in the whole country.”

Maybe he couldn’t hear her. Maybe he couldn’t feel her next to him. But she was there. She was there . Effie needed her brother to know that she was there.

“His coach said that he’d never seen a boy throw a ball so far or run so fast.”

Aiden coughed and gulped for air, his jammed jaw like a fish carved out of stone.

But Effie couldn’t cry—her tears would scare him.

She had to stay strong. She didn’t realize she was already sobbing until the drips landed on Aiden’s forehead and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

His little face was almost unrecognizable, his eyes sunken into two dark holes.

“The All Blacks heard about this magical little boy. So one day, they…”

But before Effie could finish, those cruel invisible fingers lashed out for him again, grabbing hold as he screamed. The merciless hands twisted and contorted his spine like a supplejack vine.

And the All Blacks asked Aiden to play for them .

Effie inched away, safe from her brother’s thrashing arms.

And they gave him black shorts and a black T-shirt with his name printed on it .

Aiden’s head bowed back and he gagged, his wide lips and his wide eyes gulping for air.

And Aiden smiled that great big smile as he ran onto the pitch.

Effie bit into her lip, breaking the skin.

He was the youngest ever All Black. Even younger than Jonah Lomu .

—

The next morning, as soon as the sun rose, Dad carried Aiden’s body back to Koraha. He wanted a doctor to tell them what had happened. He wanted a doctor to tell them why Aiden, who’d done nothing wrong or bad, had been taken from them.

Like some idiot doctor could ever answer that.

Dad went in front, and the rest of them followed in silence.

Four didn’t cry as Effie waded through the river up to her waist. He clung to her back, silent, as his bare feet swung in the icy water.

He didn’t complain when Effie said that he couldn’t walk, that he was too slow.

Tia didn’t moan when it started to rain and the cold soaked through to her bones and gave her heels blisters.

Dad carried Aiden in his arms like a baby, her brother’s lifeless legs dangling in the air like two bags of sand.

—

June arrived at the medical center five minutes after them—she must have driven over as soon as the nurse called her. The doctor took another hour, driven in special, apparently.

June hugged each of them, even the rag doll in Dad’s arms, but only Four and Tia cried. Effie’s eyes were red-rimmed and sore from refusing any more tears. Tears hadn’t stopped Aiden from dying. And they sure as hell wouldn’t bring him back.

Dad’s eyes were red and swollen too. The grief had buckled his shoulders, shrinking him, and the sadness had scrubbed the color from his face, his skin raw and blotchy. Looking at Dad hurt almost as much as looking at what the invisible horror had left of Aiden.

“I’ll watch them,” said June, nodding at Dad. “You take Aiden in.”

Effie stood in the clinical light, squinting in the white glow, as the doctor touched a hand to Dad’s back.

Like he could do anything. Like there was any fucking point in them being there.

If it wasn’t for the strength of Four’s grip, his hand clutched around Effie’s trembling fingers, she might have marched forward and told the doctor to keep his useless hands off her brother. To piss off.

“Come here, sweethearts.” June opened her arms to Tia and Four, and Tia sank into them.

But Four’s grip tightened, crushing Effie’s fingers, and he shook his head.

“Effie,” he mumbled.

She knelt down in front of him and wiped the strands of wet hair from his face. Then she took off his soaking clothes, helped him into a set of pajamas that June had brought, and found him a glass of water.

“We could go back to mine if you’d like,” June said.

Effie shook her head. “We’re staying here.”

June didn’t push it.

Effie took two chairs from the waiting room and pushed them together, making a sort of cot, then she walked into the storage room and rummaged around until she found a blanket.

Four watched without moving, the confusion and tiredness rooting him to the spot, and Effie folded his jumper into a pillow.

“Do you need to wee?” she asked.

He nodded.

Effie took him through to the bathroom and hovered in the doorway as he relieved himself.

Four perched on the toilet seat, legs closed tight as he held the sides.

Aiden had peed upright from the moment his skinny legs allowed it.

In the bush, against trees, on Mum’s vegetables, his wee spraying in the wind.

After Four had flushed, Effie got him to wash his hands, then she made him swirl cold water around his teeth.

Four turned and looked up at her with big eyes, spit dripping down his chin.

“Where’s Aiden gone?” he asked.

“To somewhere better,” said Effie, then she kissed the top of his head. “Come on, it’s past your bedtime.”

She helped him clamber into the makeshift cot, then she tucked the blanket around him.

“Go to sleep. No more questions.”

Effie pulled out a chair and sat next to him, waiting until his eyes closed and his breathing slowed. June was perched on a chair next to Tia, her body tense and wide awake, while Tia slept on her arm. But June’s eyes were closed, and she was praying, the useless words making her lips move.

“It’s all bullshit, you know,” Effie muttered, “the God stuff.”

“Oh?” June opened her eyes.

“Praying’s a scam.”

“A scam?”

“Yeah. A big lie, Dad says. To satisfy those sad people who stare at the sky all day, hoping a miracle might drop out of it.”

“And it won’t?”

Effie shook her head. “Nothing’s going to fall in your eye but rain and bird shit. Praying’s a waste of time.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well.” Effie looked at her. “That’s cos you’re being scammed. But it’ll catch you out. One day, something real bad will happen to you, and God won’t do nothing. Then you’ll wish you’d done something more useful with your time.”

“Useful.” June looked at her. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.” Effie scowled. “Painting or some shit.”

June considered this. “I do like painting.”

“Well, there you go. Problem solved. Paint more. Pray less. Then you won’t be let down by the nothing in the sky.”

“I think,” June let out a small sigh, “that I might stick with the praying. If that’s okay with you.”

Effie frowned. “Why?”

“Faith, I suppose.”

Effie scoffed at that.

“And,” June smiled, “I guess, just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case it’s not all some scam.”

“Suit yourself.”

Effie looked away, the itch in her muscles making her legs quiver, then she stood up.

“I’m going to get some fresh air. It smells like bleach and sick in here.”

She paused, her fingers curled around the arm of the chair, unable to move away.

“I’ll watch them,” said June.

“Just no…” Effie wavered, “no praying over them.”

“Just watching. I promise.”

She walked to the door, pulling her jacket around her, then stepped into the clear night.

The icy breeze tunneled through her, leaking through every seam in her jacket.

Drawing her shoulders to her ears, Effie looked through the dark, and there he was, his hands tucked under his armpits, pacing near the road.

Of course he was there.

Lewis stopped the moment she spotted him, his face paled by the moon, then he strode across the empty carpark. Without speaking, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady, and she pressed her face into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Effie. I’m so sorry.”

“He was good.” She sniffed.

“I know.” Lewis pulled her closer. “I know.”