January (13 page)

It wasn’t Mum!

‘Search the house,’ it said. It was a man. ‘He’s in here somewhere. When you find him, make sure he doesn’t get away.’

It was my kidnappers and they were after me
!

‘Please, Gabbi,’ I begged, puffing another breath into her, counting and depressing her
chest, ‘don’t die on me!’

Time was running out. Footsteps were
climbing
the stairs. Then I heard the sound of sirens coming towards our house. A voice on the stairs called out, ‘Somebody’s called the cops. We’ve gotta grab him and get out of here!’

I searched my sister’s face, desperate for a sign of life. Then, I saw the faintest blush of colour and a tiny pulse throbbing in her neck. She was breathing again! And her heart was beating! I heard an ambulance siren. It was almost here. Gabbi would get help. Gabbi would be OK.

I dared not stay a second longer. I kissed my little sister on her forehead and I squeezed her cold hands. I grabbed my backpack and hurled myself through the window and into the nearby mulberry tree.

The dense leaves hid me from view and I stayed there, clinging painfully to the tree. The search in the house continued. I realised I was shaking and prayed desperately that no-one would see me. I pulled my backpack closer.

I’d assumed it was the people who’d grabbed me in Memorial Park. But I was wrong. It wasn’t them. Who were these people?

‘Look! There he is!’

I’d been spotted. I could hear them at the window.

‘Up there! He’s in the tree!’

Oh no he’s not, I thought, and let go.

The branches slowed my fall a little, but I hit the ground hard.

I jumped over a black Subaru that was parked outside the house, and took off, running for my life, putting as much distance between me and the shouting I could hear behind me, as my pursuers tried to keep up.

A quick glance back. Two burly-looking men attempting to cross the road against the traffic, and an ambulance and cop car skidding onto the driveway.

I thought I’d run my best speed last night, but now I broke my own record. I raced across the road. Cars blasted their horns as they braked. Drivers swore at me, but I didn’t care …

I’d thrown them off now, and I was hurrying down streets I’d never seen before. I ducked into a huge shopping centre where I found a quiet corner, and, panting and sweating like crazy, I called Boges.

‘Boges!’ I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
‘Something really bad’s happened at home and …’

But Boges interrupted me. ‘Our place is crawling with cops! Mum’s freaking out!’

‘
Cops at yours
?
Why?’

‘You’re asking
me
why? Look, Cal, I can’t talk now. I’ll have to call you later, OK.’

‘No! Wait! What’s happened? Why are the cops at
your
place? Boges? Please!’

But he was already off the line.

I didn’t know what to do. I tried ringing Mum on her mobile, but it was on divert, so I left a message. ‘Mum, I hope you’re OK. When I came home earlier, I found Uncle Rafe unconscious on the floor, his head bleeding, and Gabbi—Gabbi wasn’t breathing! I did what I could and she was coming round but I had to get out fast and … there are these people after me and I’ve been meaning to …’ I stopped. Mum would think I’d totally lost it. I’d have to sit her down and tell her the whole story now: about how the boat had been sabotaged, about being abducted and
interrogated.
‘I’ll call you later,’ I said, hanging up.

I sat in a coffee shop, in the corner furthest from the door, keeping an eye on passers-by. I’d ordered a drink but felt sick thinking about my
little sister lying on the floor. Would she have died if I hadn’t come in when I did? Was she OK now?

I tried ringing Mum again and once more it went onto voicemail. I left another message, asking her to ring me as soon as she could. She was probably at the hospital by now with Gabbi and Uncle Rafe. I felt choked up with anxiety and fear. Someone was targeting our family. This was out of control.

I had to make a decision. I hated the fact that those thugs knew where we lived. Maybe they’d met Dad at the conference—or just looked us up in the phone book. I knew they could come back at any time.

There was no way around this. I’d have to go to the police—tell them the whole story. Once the cops knew everything, they’d see that me and my family were in great danger.

I could tell them about the mysterious Ormond Riddle, maybe get them to help us find out what the Ormond Singularity was, and clear this whole mess up.

I could feel my confidence and strength returning. Our family would be helped.

Yes, that’s what I would do.

All I had to do was find a police station.

I turned the corner a few blocks from home, past the big hotel where Dad sometimes used to go with work friends. That was back then, when the world was normal, when Dad was alive and my family was safe. I distracted myself by looking in through the doorway of the hotel lounge, my eyes drawn to the huge plasma screen that filled most of the far wall.

I blinked.

It was me.

My
face filled the giant plasma screen …

The camera moved to a senior police officer. ‘Police have not yet released the names of the victims,’ he announced. ‘The first, a man aged in his forties and believed to be a close relative of the alleged offender, is expected to make a full recovery. The second victim, a girl aged nine, also a close relative, is in intensive care. Police are warning the public not to approach the suspect but to call the police if he is seen. He has already seriously attacked two people and could be dangerous if approached.’

They were talking about me!

They were showing
my
face as the attacker!

I moved quickly, head down, hurrying past the hotel, hoping no-one would look up and see me.

Around the corner, I started running. I’d have to get home. To Mum. Explain it all to her. She could go with me … to the police. Together, we could sort it all out …

I slowed to a fast walk and became aware of a car cruising along beside me. A sideways glance—and I freaked out. It was a squad car!

I made a quick left-hand turn into the nearest lane, running like crazy. The police car accelerated and screeched around the corner.

I made another sudden turn down a narrow lane and scrambled over the nearest fence, falling into a big mess of hydrangea bushes. I crouched motionless, squashed against the fence, sweating in the heat, hoping they couldn’t hear me panting, and then finally the squad car sped past me in the lane. When I could no longer hear it, I climbed back over the fence and headed home.

I flattened against the wall of the house on the corner of my street, peering around cautiously.

I jumped back fast. Police were everywhere! Two detectives stood outside in the garden of my place, while other officers in navy blue overalls swarmed around in the street outside.

Another squad car blocked the other end of
my street. There was no way I could make it to the house.

‘Hey! You!’

I’d been spotted again!

I turned and ran.

‘There he is! After him!’

I bolted, pelting along as hard as I could, jumping over rubbish bins, scrambling cats, until I’d come to the corner at the other end of the street that joined ours in a right angle. But instead of turning and following the street, I continued straight ahead, jumping a low brick wall, and hurtling through the garden of a small cottage, down the side passage, over the gate and straight on through the garden at the rear of the house. I threw myself over the back fence, falling heavily to the ground on the other side.

I was in the backyard of another small cottage, not far from a washing line. I waited there for a while, listening to my heart rate slowly ease. I switched my phone off and looked around in disbelief. Here I was, hiding out near some stranger’s washing, while the police hunted me.

I was trapped in a nightmare.

Any second now, I’d wake up, safely home with my family.

There was no waking from this. This was my new reality—I was a hunted fugitive.