The Sky So Heavy by Claire Zorn Read Free Book Online Page B

what a wank. The guy was a surgeon and liked everyone to know about it. I bet he was wishing he had a heated driveway like Bill Gates. With the shutters down the house looked like a prison.
    It seemed like the world was in hibernation. There were no birds calling, no breeze ruffling the trees, no cars passing down the street, no kids squealing, no lawnmowers. It wasn’t like the pause before a breath. It was like the world had suffocated. I lifted my face to the cold unfamiliar face of the sky and walked up the hill.
    I wondered where else it was snowing. Was it snowing in the city? Was it snowing in Perth? Adelaide? It was impossible to gauge the seriousness of the whole thing without any information from the outside world; like being blindfolded in deep water and not knowing where the edge was. Mum used to talk about going on holidays to the country when she was a kid. No television, no phone. It was like taking a break from the rest of the world for two weeks, she said. A war could start and you wouldn’t even know about it until you got back. I used to struggle to imagine living without even a mobile. Surely the electricity was back up somewhere, it was just the mountains left in the dark, wasn’t it?
    If things got bad Mum would come back for us. I clung to that while I trod water in the deep. Where the line was between this and bad, I didn’t know.
    Lucy’s house was close to Starvos’ supermarket. From the outside, it looked as closed up as every other. I went up the drive and knocked on the front door. I waited – nothing. I knocked again. Still nothing. I followed the driveway down the side of the house where I came to a large window, the curtains were drawn across but there was a gap. With my hands cupped against the glass I could see into the living room and through to the kitchen. There were no signs of life. I knocked on the window anyway, called through the glass. Nothing.
    I tried to replace the hollowed-out feeling in my chest with the idea that she was somewhere else warm and safe.
    The walk to Lucy’s did yield one positive: Starvos’ shop was still open. I didn’t have any money on me though, so I went back home with the plan of collecting some, along with Max so that between us we could get as much food as we could carry. I made him put on four layers of clothing and then some old tracksuit pants and a jumper over the top. I took the last of the cash from Dad’s room. We found some beanies, an army green one for me and a striped Swannies one for Max.
    ‘Don’t touch anything,’ I told him. ‘You have to remember that.’
    He nodded enthusiastically, practically pawing at the door. When we went out Max cupped his hands over his mouth, breathing into them, his skinny frame visibly jarring against the cold. He laughed and looked around.
    ‘It’s freakin’ freezing!’
    ‘Yes.’
    The soles of our shoes crunched in the snow as we trudged up the drive. Twice Max lost his footing and slid backward, he put his hand on the ground to steady himself, then he looked at me in alarm.
    ‘Just don’t go licking your hand,’ I said.
    Starvos was wearing a jumper. He sat on a stool behind the counter, doing the crossword in the back of a Woman’s Day . The shop was lit with tea lights, the air sharp with the tang of citronella.
    ‘They are the only candles I can find. At least the mosquitoes won’t be biting me!’ He laughed and shook his head. Barked a ragged smoker’s cough. ‘How are you boys? Your father, is he back?’
    ‘Not yet.’ I told him what the cops had said about people being stuck on the roads. I tried to sound positive, hyper aware of Max listening to my answer. ‘Don’t think it will be much longer.’
    ‘I hope not. Anyway, what can I help you with?’ Starvos motioned to the empty shelves. The only things left in the shop were chocolate bars and chewing gum at the counter. ‘My stock is in the storeroom. You can’t trust people in times like this. And I tell you now,