The Third Day, The Frost by John Marsden Read Free Book Online Page B

was eighty-eight years old.
    Fi was back behind us, in the bush, hugging a
tree and crying quietly. Lee was sitting on the ground with his
head between his knees. I couldn’t see his face and wasn’t sure
that I wanted to. Compared to the rest of us, Homer and Robyn at
least looked like they could still move and think.
    It was Robyn who’d asked the question but
Homer who answered it.
    ‘Down the well.’
    ‘Eh?’
    ‘It’s our only choice, our only chance. Listen
to me, everyone. We’ve got to make this work. Kevin, did you make
up a dummy, like we told you?’
    Kevin seemed to take five minutes to
understand the question, five minutes more to respond. Then he
slowly nodded. ‘We stuffed my work clothes with pillows.’
    ‘And what happened?’
    Kevin spoke like an old man, a tired old man.
He was slurring his words. ‘It worked. They looked down there with
a torch and they saw it all right. Then they tried to lower one of
my mates on a rope, but he started yelling about the fumes and
acting all crazy, and they had to bring him back up again.’
    ‘Good,’ Homer said. ‘That’s perfect. Quick,
everyone, help carry this guy. Fi, you bring his gun, then come
back here and clean up the area, so there’s no sign of a struggle.’
Because we were too slow to move he got angry with us. ‘Come on,
damn you all. Get a bloody move on.’
    We shambled towards the body and struggled to
get a grip on different parts of it. Kevin tried to help but turned
his face away in revulsion and let go of the feet which he had been
holding. The four of us struggled with the ghastly stinking thing
into the little courtyard. With Homer directing, we manoeuvred it
towards the well. It had been left open but our problem was to get
it down the shaft without falling in ourselves. He was a lot
heavier, and a more awkward shape, than the sheep. Just as we
nearly had it in the right position, Homer missed his footing and
had to let go of the man’s head. It dropped onto the rotting
stonework with a horrible crack that must have almost split it
open. I had the sick thought that if he hadn’t been dead already we
would have killed him again by doing that. Robyn gave a sob and
lost her grip. Homer was furious. He yelled at her. ‘It doesn’t
matter,’ I said. ‘Pick him up again.’ When we were all sure of our
footing we gave it a heave. It slid forward over the brink of the
well, caught for a moment by a bit of clothing, then came free, and
with a floppy rush, kept sliding and went over the edge, dropping
into the depths.
    I waited for the splash but it didn’t
come.
    ‘It might have jammed halfway down,’ I
said.
    ‘Do you know where there’s a torch?’ Homer
asked Kevin. Kevin thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘OK, go and
get it. Hurry!’ he yelled, when Kevin moved away too slowly. Homer
turned to us. ‘Now,’ he ordered. ‘We’ve got to make it look like he
slipped and fell in. Fi, chuck his gun on the grass here, like he
threw it forward when he felt himself falling. Then go back and
clean that spot where ... where we ... where we had the fight with
him. Lee, go and check the route we brought him in by. Clean up any
tracks, any mess we might have left.’
    ‘Let’s fake it here,’ I said, pointing to a
place where the stonework was especially bad. ‘If we deliberately
collapse a few stones into the well, like they broke away when he
stood on them ...’
    ‘Yes, good.’
    Kevin reappeared with the torch. I took it
from him and lay full length on my stomach to peer down the shaft.
It sure was a deep one, much deeper than any around Wirrawee. Even
with this strong torch I could only see, in the distant black
depths, a couple of vague bulky shapes that could have been human.
The fumes were weaker than they had been, but they were already
starting to make me dizzy again. I pulled back.
    ‘Well?’ Homer asked.
    ‘Well well well,’ I said, remembering an old
joke. Why was I the only one who ever seemed to want to