As the dust settles after the world's worst natural disaster, eleven-year-old Lowky Tick fears the worst. His home is destroyed, and as far as he can see so is the world around him. Alone and forced to fend for himself, Lowky is driven by a fierce desire to maintain his independence and will do anything not to be found. To do this he must find a sustainable way to live. Out on the streets the devastated survivor finds his best friend Matilda, and together they decide it is time to find a new home. The Tick Tribe is an inspiring and humorous adventure story for tweens and teenagers. What these brave, young friends quickly learn is that teamwork and positive thinking can overcome even the darkest challenges. Soon the pair's intelligence, resilience and creativity are noticed by others and a diverse and courageous tribe begins to form.

The Tick Tribe

By Erika Logan

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2012 Erika Logan
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4525-0712-5

Contents

Chapter 1 Movement..........................1Chapter 2 A ... B ... C.....................4Chapter 3 Dog...............................9Chapter 4 Cloud.............................16Chapter 5 Inventory.........................17Chapter 6 Seen..............................21Chapter 7 Possums...........................27Chapter 8 Protection........................36Chapter 9 Malachite.........................47Chapter 10 Bean.............................52Chapter 11 Maniacs..........................58Chapter 12 Twins............................63Chapter 13 Islands..........................71Chapter 14 Extension........................77Chapter 15 Possible.........................80Chapter 16 News.............................87Chapter 17 Casualties.......................89Chapter 18 Crossing.........................96Chapter 19 Reunion..........................104Chapter 20 Plateau..........................107Chapter 21 People...........................114Chapter 22 Arcade...........................127Chapter 23 Late.............................130Chapter 24 Lost.............................136Chapter 25 Blood............................144Chapter 26 Attack...........................149Chapter 27 Bug..............................160Chapter 28 Ignition.........................162Chapter 29 Highway..........................166Chapter 30 Houdini..........................171Chapter 31 Home.............................175

Chapter One

Movement

It was time.

Lowky uncurled himself from what he now realised was a very hard and uneven surface. He didn't know how long he had been there—at least a day, maybe two. He hadn't eaten, and as soon as he started to move, he understood the reason for the uncurling. He was starving! His mum always used to say, "You're hungry Lowky; not starving." He wanted to cry, but a little internal voice said, No, Lowky, it's time. The voice was gentle and warm, and Lowky attempted a smile as he stretched his legs. This was harder than he'd expected. He had been curled up for so long that even though his mind wanted to move, his body did not. He tried again. His limbs slowly remembered what they were supposed to do, and before long he was standing, slightly crouched, in what used to be his living room.

The house was half there and half gone. The living room was mainly standing; only the front corner had collapsed. To the south of that, the dining room and kitchen were badly shaken but also okay. The rest of the house was destroyed. The front of the house and the street it was connected to faced west. These had completely collapsed, and from what Lowky could see, had been reduced to rubble.

Lowky hobbled to the kitchen. The smell was overpowering. It was the smell of food starting to rot, slimy rot! Luckily for Lowky, he had nothing in his stomach to throw up. He did manage, however, to dry-retch all the way to the centre of the kitchen. Most of the contents of the cupboards were on the floor, so he grabbed a dented can of baked beans and attempted to run to the back door.

As he hobbled towards the yard, he imagined he must look like the Elephant man. "I am not an animal," he giggled as he balanced on a small pile of rubble that used to be the neighbour's shed. Hungrily he pulled the ring pull on the baked beans and used his fingers to shovel them into his mouth. Big mistake, he thought. He had had nothing to drink, and the beans turned into a semi-set cement. His stomach reacted to this substance and he started to heave even before he tried to swallow.

He looked back at the kitchen. No chance those pipes are working, he thought as he spat the baked beans into the rubble next to him. He looked around but couldn't imagine finding water anywhere. He remembered the stash of lemonade his mum kept for her after-work pick-me-ups. This was always mixed with a large splash of vodka, but she thought Lowky didn't know. The thought hit him immediately: Oh no! Back to the slimy rot.

The lemonade had been shaken out of the cupboard like most of the other contents. He could see it from what used to be the back door. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and hobbled as fast as he could to the can of lemonade. His stiff body had loosened up a bit, so it didn't take as long as the first trip. He was weak though, and the lack of food, water, and now oxygen made his head spin and his knees shake. Ohhh, he groaned when he realised he would have to take a breath. He held on to a solid, but shaken, bench frame, grabbed the lemonade, took a disgustingly deep breath, and wobbled, cried, and heaved all the way to the back door.

The lemonade was sweet and warm. He gulped down three huge mouthfuls, but his body rejected it. Gross, he thought, as it cascaded down the rubble next to the baked beans. It was then that he remembered a documentary he had seen about people who should have died but didn't. When they were finally rescued, they were given only tiny sips of water. At the time he had thought this was some kind of cruel joke or a feature of the documentary to make it more interesting. Now he knew better.

He sat back down on the pile of rubble and perched between a rock and a piece of tin. He took a tiny sip of lemonade. This time his body gratefully accepted it. It took Lowky what seemed like forever to absorb only a quarter of the can. It had probably lasted an hour, but it made him aware that without a clock or a schedule, time became irrelevant. At that moment, he had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no reason for living. He decided not to cry as he had had enough trouble drinking the lemonade. What would be the point of wasting it? He quickly changed his focus back to the baked beans.

I can do this, he thought, just take it one bean at a time. This worked, and after what seemed like another eternity Lowky had eaten about ten beans. He was full and quenched. He was safe and unhurt. He was scared and lonely but somewhere deep inside he was glad to be alive.

It was a sunny day, hot and dry, which was unusual for Melbourne. He lived on one of the hottest continents on earth, yet the town he lived in rarely finished a day without seeing clouds and rain. The flipside of this was that a day rarely finished without some sun as well. Melbourne was known for having four seasons in one day, and unless you were a tourist you always carried a set of clothes that could be changed as easily as the weather.

On this day the sun was nice and he wished it would stay that way so he could defrost his bones and rehabilitate his muscles. And it did.

Lowky hadn't moved over the last day or two. He knew his mother and sister were dead in the next room and he had stayed there paralysed as he slipped in and out of his grief. He had heard some noise in the surrounding area—mainly screaming and crying but also helping and saving. On four occasions he had heard groups of people calling out for any lost or hurt people. He had remained perfectly still, not daring to breathe because he did not want to be found—which he knew would require a lot of planning.

He had heard very little movement during the night, so that would be the best time to do any noisy or outdoor work. He suddenly realised where he was, sitting high on some rubble, in the middle of the day like a lighthouse just begging to be seen. He quickly slid off his perch and hid in the dining room. He sat silently behind the only solid piece of wall he could...