Mr Invisible

by Duncan Brockwell

  A more confident and convincing “yeah” reverberated around the cricket ground.

  “I can’t hear you! Again, are we bringing the cup home?”

  “Hell yeah!” They all yelled.

  And as he watched his ruckman, a guy named Larry, who measured six feet eight inches tall, hand the ball to the umpire, Shane readied himself for the fourth repeat of this play. The team seemed incapable of getting it right. Determined to master it before the end of the session, one complaint he caught commentators making was that his crew didn’t work well together. Most of them blamed him for it, and he aimed to remedy that criticism. The fact the Swans had not won a competition, or made the semi, or quarter finals since he’d taken over, only added weight to their comments.

  Glad to be back, footy took his mind off Elf Man having an incriminating photo of him with Valerie. He spent the previous weekend and the rest of the week waiting for Georgina to confront him. Shane wished he knew what Elf Man was anticipating; why he dangled the video in front of him?

  On Sunday night, Shane had tried telling Georgina what happened on Friday night, about how he met Valerie. When he sat Georgina down, and she smiled at him, he couldn’t go through with it; he couldn’t face the thought of her hating him. Sometimes, he kicked himself for his stupidity.

  Today was the first day he didn’t feel jumpy. He lived for football, for the plays and tumbles. Hell, even if she found out and they broke up, he would still have footy, still have wild after-game parties to attend.

  “Hey, Shane, is that George over there?” the umpire asked.

  Squinting into the sun, Shane found Georgina waving him over, wearing only a bikini and thong shoes. Upon closer inspection, she was crying. He excused himself from the play, running over to her. Up close, she looked awful, tears streaming. “What the hell happened? I left you at the house less than two hours ago.” He pulled her in for a hug, which she looked like she needed.

  “He was in the house.”

  Pulling her away from him, he stared into her wet eyes. “You what? Bullshit. He wasn’t in our house.”

  Georgina handed him her phone. He saw that she had a dozen or more text messages from Elf Man. “How did he get your number?” Shane asked, expecting her to show him Chatter texts. The first text made him so angry, he wanted to punch a wall.

  “Sorry about last night, by the way. Think I might’ve left the front door open.” Elf Man had to be winding them up, had to be. He couldn’t have been in their house. Then Shane read the second: “Had a fantastic night, though. You are such a gracious host. Lol.” And the third: “And you’re so sweet when you’re asleep.”

  The thought of the pom being in their house, watching Georgina sleep, made Shane want to throw up. “He’s fucking with us, George. This fucker’s lying.”

  “He was spying on me from behind our tree just now.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And he has my mobile number. How did he know the door was left open?”

  Shane couldn’t answer. The thought of Elf Man being in their house truly frightened him. Elf Man couldn’t know about the door being left ajar… Unless… He didn’t want to say it, even in his head… Inside their house. While he snored off the copious amounts of stubbies drunk, Elf Man was wandering around his house.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Shane, but are we running through this play, or not?” The umpire backed away, his palms on display. “No, you’re right, we’ll muddle through without you.”

  Shane waited until he turned and walked back to the oval-shaped pitch, where his team were watching them. He turned to Georgina. “You said he was in the garden just now?” When she confirmed, he took her hand and pulled her in the direction of the main doors back to reception. “Is your Jeep outside?”

  He tried comforting her on the way back home. Furious didn’t do his mood justice. This psychopath had crossed a line. “I’m going to get this mongrel,” he said in a low, quiet and determined voice.

  “How?” Georgina asked, sat in the passenger seat for once. “He knows everything about us. And we don’t even know what he looks like.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. The tears had stopped.

  The journey home via Moore Park Road and Ocean Street took ten minutes. Pulling up outside their front gate, Shane pressed the “open” button and waited while they obeyed, before driving inside and closing it. He walked up to the door and stood back as Georgina used her key. “Let’s see if he’s still here.” Shane ran upstairs and retrieved his Beretta from his bedside cabinet. “Elf Man? More like dead man!”

  With his pistol in hand, he descended the stairs and joined Georgina at the sliding glass door leading out to the back garden. She stared at the tree.

  “Is he still here?” He unlocked and opened it. “Elf Man!” Shane bellowed, stepping outside. No answer.

  Shane ran at the wall, grabbing the top bricks and hoisting himself up. He had to dodge the razor wire. While there, his arms keeping him up, he noticed a chunk of wire missing behind the tree. “Son of a bitch! That’s how he’s getting in.” He could kick himself for not noticing on Tuesday. Razor wire wouldn’t work with this guy.

  Georgina screamed. Shane jumped down from the wall and ran over to her. Taking her phone from her shaking hands, he stared in disbelief at the dark video inside their house. Elf Man had brazenly tried their front door. He felt sick at the thought that if he hadn’t fallen asleep without double-checking, they wouldn’t be watching this sickening footage now.

  The single torch illuminated each room. The footage showed him inside their cinema room and games room. Elf Man used the pool cue to pot the black. The video shone in the living room and kitchen.

  Stay downstairs, Shane thought, please. His prayer went unanswered when the video went upstairs, slowly, deliberately, Elf Man excited, giggling.

  “He’s a snorer,” Elf Man said in delight.

  Shane gulped when he saw himself under the covers asleep. His hand shook. Elf Man slid a blade out and rested it on his sleeping neck. Checking his throat, Shane heard a whispered voice say, “Wake up. Please.”

  Then the knife disappeared, and the camera moved, backed up and crept around the bed to Georgina’s side. He wanted to throw the phone; instead, he held his girlfriend’s hand, as the video zoomed in on her sleeping face. “There you are,” the voice a mere whisper. “You’re so beautiful.”

  And a hand pulled the covers back, revealing Georgina lying on her side, naked, her arms folded over her breasts. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

  Georgina hugged Shane tight, not wanting to watch any more. A stronger man may have switched off, but he didn’t. Shane held her, while Elf Man continued his visual assault on her.

  Elf Man’s voice grew more excited when she turned and lay on her back, her naked body on display.

  Speechless with rage, Shane’s hands shook.

  The camera started shaking and Elf Man groaned.

  Georgina ran away, crying. Instead of going after her, Shane watched as Elf Man’s groans intensified, until a final moan told him his intruder had finished. “Oops!” Elf Man whispered in a laboured voice. “Left a bit of a mess.”

  If Shane could have reached inside the screen and strangled Elf Man, he would have. “I’m going to fucking kill you with my bare hands,” he growled, watching as the video showed Elf Man leaving via the front door. Shane launched Georgina’s phone across the garden, regretting it immediately. “Fuck!”

  After retrieving the mobile from behind a bush, he went inside and upstairs to find her lying on the bed, crying.

  He could only imagine how she felt. Stroking her back, he tried to think of something to say. “I’m so sorry! If I’d checked the door, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  Georgina’s sobbing subsided. “Call the police, Shane.” Her face buried in the pillow, more sobs escaped her. “He was in our house; he had a knife against your throat.”

  Shane nodded gravely. “All right, I’m calling them now.”
/>   Picking up her phone, he dialled 131 444.

  Georgina got up and looked at him. “Why aren’t you dialling 000?”

  “Why? You only dial that when you’re in immediate danger.”

  “What do you mean? He was in this room, Shane.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not in the house now, is he?”

  He finished his conversation with Georgina when a female voice greeted him.

  30

  The camera loved Isla Kelly, or it could be the other way around. Either way, she knew she was the perfect choice to lead The Gym Dollies in their march for Chatter TV’s health and fitness superiority. Her five Dollies were professional, and had become firm friends of hers. Having six Dollies, her included, made it easier for pairing up during the workouts. “And next week we’ll be giving you our top ten core burn tips, so make sure you tune in.”

  Staring at the camera, her arms around two of her ladies, Isla stared at the lens. “Until next time, from Queenscliff Beach, New South Wales, take care, and we’ll see you all at Dolly’s.”

  Giving her widest, most gorgeous smile, she waited for the cameraman to signal the terminated transmission. “Great job, Dollies.” She hugged each of them in turn. Fridays were her favourite, no doubt. She got to work out on Queenscliff Beach, near Manly, in front of both the camera and adoring fans in the morning, followed by a televised session for her own Chatter show in the afternoon. Isla had her own followers to satisfy after all.

  As she finished hugging the last Dolly, she turned to find three girls in their mid-teens stood waiting with pens and pads in their hands. When they asked for her autograph, she feigned shock. A bit of humility never hurt anyone, she always said. Each girl wore a bikini, and looked like they kept themselves in shape. “Great to see you’re so keen on health and fitness,” she said, handing the last pen back. “Keep up the good work, ladies.” She waved them off, knowing she and the Dollies had given them a damned good workout.

  Isla lived in bikinis during the summer. What better way was there to show off her gains? Her biceps rock-hard, her abs and thigh muscles the same, while her shoulders and back were solid, and so they should be, for she spent the majority of her life at the gym, either lifting, or coaching others to lift. “Who’s for brunch?” she asked her fellow Dollies after their fans had dispersed.

  The beach was stunning, the sand golden in the relentless sun, and in the distance Isla could see yachts and powerboats going about their business. One of her Dollies walked to the car park and retrieved her cool bag, while Isla and the rest of the girls found the perfect spot and put down towels. Dawn, a blonde with her hair in a ponytail, returned with the cool bag. “I could really go for a couple of egg sangers.”

  Reaching into her bag for her mobile, Isla saw she had several messages. With the rest of the Dollies opening up the picnic bag, she checked the messages. The clock on her phone said: 11:03. She took the package from Dawn.

  “Your egg sangers, honey.”

  Isla placed the sandwich between her legs on the towel. Scrolling through her messages while munching on her sanger and listening to her girls laugh and joke, she opened her Chatter app, only to find a photo message from Elf Man. She stopped chewing and read it. “Son of a…” Putting the sandwich down, she stood, scanning the beach. The picture was of her and her Dollies sat on their towels, taken a minute ago. “He’s here!”

  “Who’s here?” Willow asked, a stunning black Dolly with long braided hair, and abs to make even Olympic medallists jealous. She, like Isla, wore a white bikini.

  “Ah, no one,” she answered, not spying him. A number of visitors walked the length of the beach, but none of them stuck out. She looked for single men, reasoning that a psycho like Elf Man would ride alone, rather than as part of a couple or group. “Don’t worry.”

  “Who’s taking photos of us, Isla?” Dawn asked from behind her.

  “No one,” Isla replied. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

  No escaping her friends’ interest, they all whined and begged her to tell them who was filming them. After a chorus of pleases, she relented. “All right, I’ll tell you, if you promise to stop whining.” She received a good solid laugh. And she turned around and regarded her five gorgeous weightlifting friends. “My mates, George and Ames, we’re all being stalked by some pommie bastard.”

  Isla heard their gasps, followed by murmuring. “Oli, the stupid jerk, he teased one of George’s followers on her Chatter account, and pretended to be her. He invited this guy to meet us for a joke, and this pommie went and bought a bloody plane ticket. Anyway, he found out it was a prank, and now he’s out there stalking us.”

  “Bloody hell, honey,” Willow said. “You should’ve told us.”

  “I know. But I didn’t want to scare you all.” She knew that at least three of her Dollies had been victims of stalkers. “He stabbed Kereama on Friday morning. And scratched the shit out of Oli’s car.” Isla found her place on the towel and sat down, feeling Elf Man’s eyes on her.

  “You know what?” Willow stood and helped Isla back on her feet. “Let’s go find this mongrel and send him packing. We’ll make him regret coming over here.”

  When the rest of the girls stood, Isla felt energised, invincible. “Come on, Dollies, let’s fuck this guy up.” She wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of this, she thought, wondering how ferocious six muscular bikini-clad women looked striding up the beach. Already getting worried glances from beach visitors, she told herself she wanted people to move out of her way when she approached.

  As she and her Dollies reached the top of the sand, they had to cross a piece of green land before they arrived at North Steine. The length of North Steine Road was lined with parking spaces, even running through the adjoining Manly Beach. “He’s around here somewhere, chicks. Fan out, we’ll find him quicker. Keep an eye out for a sad, pasty, lonely and pathetic-looking mongrel, and call out if you find him. And when we do, we’re going to kick his balls so hard they’ll be internal.”

  And she meant every word. Waiting for Shane, Oliver and Kereama to sort it out was futile. No, when she wanted something done, she relied on herself. And when she got hold of Elf Man, well, he would regret messing with her. “I know you’re around here somewhere, you arsehole.”

  With the rest of the Dollies in pairs off looking for him, Isla walked along the tarmac, scanning the cars, keeping an eye out for him. If he had seen her strutting up the beach towards him, Elf Man would want to get away. Walking next to the powerful Willow, Isla thought her friend should be an athlete competing in the Olympics.

  “Found him!” Dawn shouted in the distance. “He’s jumping in a car. What do you want us to do?”

  Excited, Isla sprinted towards her friend. “Grab him, pin him down if you have to. Whatever you do, don’t let him leave.”

  Unfortunately, Dawn and her partner, Ruth, were too slow. Elf Man’s door closed, he started the engine and shot out from his space, missing Ruth by centimetres.

  Isla and Willow ran into the middle of the North Steine, watching as Elf Man’s small car came hurtling at them. “Out the way!” Isla yelled at her friend, jumping one way as her friend jumped the other. Elf Man’s car shot off past them. Lying on the ground, bruised and grazed, Isla slammed her fist into the tarmac in anger. “We almost had him, for fuck’s sake.”

  Willow hobbled on one leg, stooped down and helped her up. “He would have run us both down, baby.” She pulled Isla to her feet. “It’s not worth it. You need to phone the police about this guy; he’s a crazy white boy.”

  “I will when I get home.” With her knee bleeding, using each other as support, Isla and Willow walked back to their spot on the beach and finished their brunch. She fought her girls off, telling them that she and Oliver would call them later.

  31

  “You all right, mate?” Oliver’s gym buddy, Jake asked. “You look pale.”

  On any normal day, Oliver would tell his best friend and workout partner almos
t anything. Not today. He’d just finished a call with Isla: she and her Dollies narrowly missed cornering Elf Man. Sat on the bench, he imagined the mess they would have made of him, had they caught him. Elf Man would have lost his balls for sure. “I’m fine.” Taking his vest off and lying back, Oliver assumed position, about to attempt his heaviest lift. “Add another five either side, would you?”

  After Jake had placed the additional weights, Oliver prepped himself mentally, telling himself he could do it.

  “You do this,” Jake said, “and it’s a new PB.”

  Oliver smiled at the thought. Lifting 210 kilos would be his personal best. Other members had lifted more, but they were monsters. “Are you recording this?”

  Having mainly worked on his legs and core – saving his upper body for the one rep, a deadlift of 210 kilos – he was ready.

  “Can I have your attention?” Jake called, standing next to him, his biceps bulging when he folded his arms. “Oli’s going for his own record. Drum rolls please.”

  “Buckley’s chance, mate!” someone shouted.

  “It’s only ten kilos more than last time,” another member said. “Come on, Oli, you can do this. Make us proud.”

  The initial raise and lowering of the bar easy enough with aid from his spotters, he held it up with all his strength. With all the energy and anger he could muster, he lifted the barbell, his mind focused on a faceless Elf Man, as his whole body tensed. He thought about what he would do to him when they came face-to-face: tear him apart limb from limb, with his bare hands.

  One final push, one last roar, and his arms were fully extended, shaking.

  With help from his spotters and Jake, the bar was returned to its rack. Oliver could feel his muscles burning, especially in his chest and biceps. He found it funny how Georgina modelled for Ripped Energy Drink, when she was just skin and bone; she had no muscle definition. He should be filmed for their adverts, not her, he thought, standing to the adulation of his fellow members. Oliver raised his arms, accepting the praise, the clapping and cheering. “Thank you.” He wanted the adoration to continue.