War/Peace. Matthew Vandenberg

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ beneath my feet, then I have no idea what he or she will do. In fact, the reason why I'm here, right here right now, is because I need to know just this: I need to know just who I am, just who I now represent, and why others from this side of Sydney believe I am nothing like them. I need to know what makes me so different, what makes a Protestant, and specifically a Presbyterian, so different to a Catholic. I need to know why we're fighting, for whether I like it or not I am now a fighter by virtue of my prior residency in the north of Sydney. I have never picked up a sword and never shall but to them, to the entire choir who sing the holy vowels of Catholicism, I am a ninja who could strike at any time, a devil in disguise should I enter the south as I have, a heathen, a demon, an animal, and essentially an inferior human being: the Moslem to the Catholic, the Catholic to the Moslem, the Christian to the Jew, the Morman to the Atheist, the Jehovah's Witness to the Agnostic, the Buddhist to the . . . and a silence hangs in the air as we anticipate peace, freedom, and happiness, and a world without boundaries . . .

      I remove a cell from my pocket as I stroll across the grass, towards the large building that marks the center of the University of Western Sydney's Bankstown campus. I key in a number and wait anxiously for a woman to answer, a woman I have known for some time, one of my most brilliant, talented and respectable clients. Before the south was severed brutally from the north I would visit this woman regularly, making special trips to Bankstown, Campsie, or Liverpool just for her sake. She would wait for me in a hotel room after a busy day at the university, wait for me with baited breath, keen, eager and ready. I would satisfy her every need. In the way a shot of V stimulates the mind I would carefully stimulate that single, secret spot without even taking a shot into her V. On some nights we popped pills, on others we smoked joints, but every single morning after she was born again, returning to her job more refreshed and focused than ever: her job as peace-maker.

      'Stephanie? Is that you? Stephanie Anderson?' I ask.

      'Jackson?'

      'I'm here. I'm on campus. Can I drop by . . .?'

      'Yeah. Certainly! Of course you can. What are you doing here? You're a north-sider! How did you make it here? You have to be so careful. Please.'

      'It's ok,' I say. 'Look. I'll tell you when I get there. Are you in the office?'

      'I'm here. I can only work at night now. If the south-siders catch me I might be in deep trouble. I can't tell you how much I need you here right now Jackson. Please hurry. Thank you so much for coming.'

      'Is anyone else on campus.'

      'I don't think so but I can't be sure.'

      'Ok. I'm hanging up. I'll be there soon. Hold tight.'

      ******

      References

      1 Rated X – The White Stripes

      2 It's Like That – Run DMC Vs Jason Nevins

      3 Stop The Music – P Money and Scribe

      4 Black Fingernails, Red Wine – Eskimo Joe

      5 2012 – Jay Sean

      6 Imagine – John Lennon

      JACKSON CURTIS - 7:27am - December 17 - 2011

      ‘Is this a joke!?’ Chloe yells.

      ‘What is it?’ Shaun asks.

      ‘The fridge is full of apples. That’s all we have to eat? Apples! How can we survive on apples?’

      ‘Different varieties?’ I ask.

      ‘What does it matter?’ Chloe says, shrugging. ‘All we’ve got are stupid apples.’

      ‘There are more than 7000 varieties of apples*,’ I state. ‘They all got a compound in them that shields neurons from damage. Scientists wanna extract this compound from apples and use it to make drugs that’ll help protect the brain*. They also got this pectin fiber in them that brings down cholesterol levels*. Plus you can fry the apples, you don’t gotta eat them raw. Maybe we got sugar or cinnamon. We can make – like – an applesauce or something.’

      ‘To put on what?’ Shaun asks. ‘The invisible steak we got on the table?’

      ‘Next you’ll be tellin’ us we can eat the bugs on the walls!’ Chloe yells.

      ‘We’ve got 40 000 species of microorganisms in each of our guts, you know**. They protect us against particular organisms**, or help our immune system develop, or help us digest food, or even influence brain function and behavior**.’

      ‘No one cares, Jackson,’ Shaun says. ‘Don’t tell me you’re gonna be rattling off boring facts about every single little thing while we’re in this house.’

      I shrug: ‘Not everything.’

      ‘We need another person,’ Shaun says. ‘Or more people. This place is pretty drab, seriously.’

      ‘We got a couple girls coming, should be here by noon,’ I say, taking an apple out of the fridge.

      ‘Really?’ Chloe asks. ‘What are their names? Do I know them?’

      ‘There’s a pic on the bench of one of them.’

      Chloe walks over to the kitchen bench, takes the picture in two tiny fingers and looks at the image.

      ‘Oh no,’ Chloe says without hesitation. ‘No. No. No. There is no way she is entering this house! Are you crazy? Both of you? Shaun, have you seen this? This girl’s a . . .’

      ‘She’s a Catholic,’ I say, shrugging. ‘So what?’

      ‘She’s from the south! We can’t possibly let her in here. This – here – is a safe-house for north-siders in case you haven’t noticed.’

      ‘She’s not a fighter,’ I stress. ‘She’s peaceful, just like us.’

      ‘Jackson,’ Shaun says, shaking his head. ‘Think about this. You wanna let a virgin into the house? You really haven’t thought this through have you?’

      ‘And she’s a Catholic!’ Chloe yells. ‘For Christ’s sake! There is no way she is setting foot inside this house!’

      ‘Please hear me out,’ I press. ‘We outnumber them. If they try anything then we simply kick them out.’

      ‘Then they’ll turn us into the south-side authorities,’ Shaun says. ‘Safe-house no more. We’ll be at the mercy of south-siders.’

      ‘Wait!’ Chloe says. ‘They? You mean the other one is Catholic also?’

      ‘There’s Shelly – she’s in the picture, and there’s Jerri. Look – you gotta trust me: these are real nice girls. They’re already indirect*** friends of you. You know that, right? Coz their good friends of mine.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Chloe retorts. ‘You can’t tell me I’m friends with a Catholic. With a girl who would rather pick up a scythe than a rose.’

      ‘I told you she ain’t a fighter,’ I stress. ‘Nor СКАЧАТЬ