His aunt appeared, stepping sideways through the narrow front door. Aurora was a big woman; not overweight by any means but she was very tall with square shoulders. She had big hands and big feet too, but once you noticed this – and there was no way you couldn’t – you soon forgot it because Aurora had a kindness about her that was rare in anyone. Boyd felt like she really got him, but she managed to let him know that without the long speeches or the barrage of questions he got from other adults; she wasn’t like anyone else he knew. Aurora showed him he was important to her without her ever having to say it, and it made him feel safer here than anywhere else in the world.
Today she was dressed in a long, floaty top and a pair of leggings that can only be described as ‘colourful’; her hair was short, dyed dark red and messy. She was, as always, barefoot. She wore wooden beads around her neck and, as always, she had her big, silver ring that looked like an upside-down ‘T’ on the middle finger of her right hand. Boyd’s dad had always called her a ‘hippy’, which a ten-year-old Boyd had to Google to see what it meant. As soon as he’d read the definition, it had made perfect sense. A hippy was someone who rejected the way most people did things and followed their own beliefs; it sounded like a great way to live. Maybe that’s why Boyd liked her so much. Aurora didn’t live by routines or appointments. She swam in the sea every morning at seven for an hour, whatever the weather. Other than that, she didn’t seem to have any kind of commitments in her life at all.
‘There’s my Boyd!’ she said loudly, her green eyes glowing. ‘How’s you, dude?’
If any other adult tried to speak to him like this, Boyd would probably want to throw up. But with Aurora, it just seemed natural. ‘I’m good.’
‘Yeah, so I heard,’ she replied with a knowing smile and a wink. And that would be it. Aurora wouldn’t judge him or ask for details, that wasn’t her style.
‘Dump your stuff, get to the beach,’ she said, as if she had read his mind. ‘There’s a kite-surfing event down there this weekend and they’re all out there practising today; it’s unreal.’ She tousled his long brown hair and gave him a playful shove.
Boyd smiled properly for what felt like the first time in a long time.
Boyd bought his chips and sat in the sand as the sun slowly slid out of sight. It had been a windy day, which was great for the kite surfers – he really had to have a go at that someday. As he wandered back, he saw a 4x4 truck parked on the grass bank outside the mobile-home park, tools and weeds in the back. Aurora had her friend Harry over for dinner. He was the gardener who looked after the park, mowing the grass and cutting back the hedges.
When Boyd got home, they were sat in the lounge.
‘Boyd!’ Aurora said with a smile. ‘Harry’s here.’
‘Yep, hi,’ Boyd said, eyeing the visitor suspiciously.
‘Hello, son. Good day?’ Harry asked, with an accent that was southern English, with a dash of Irish. He was sat on the sofa, his long legs crossed, his arms stretched out across the back of the furniture. Boyd guessed he was about 50 years old, tall with thick black and grey hair. He was a bit pink from being in the sun all day.
‘Yep.’ Instead of turning left and joining them in the lounge, Boyd went right and headed for the shower. Harry was one of those people who managed to be nosy without asking a lot of questions. Whenever Boyd turned around, he seemed to be there, watching and listening; Boyd didn’t trust people like that.
Aurora and Harry weren’t really together or anything, and Harry seemed too stuffy, too fussy, a bit like a soldier, not at all the type of person he imagined Aurora would enjoy spending time with. So, Boyd tried to make life as awkward as possible for his aunt’s friend. He was rarely very polite, and always tried to let him know he didn’t want him around. Thinking about it now, maybe Fitz was right, maybe this was why Boyd had no friends.
He had his shower and got dressed in some black jogging bottoms and a hoodie. He poked his head into the lounge and gave a quick, ‘Goodnight’.
He reached up and pulled a small bolt to release the hatch that led into the shell. It made him think of yesterday and how close he had come to getting that test out of the Prov’s office. Then he thought of the unbridled anger on Fitz’s face the last time he’d seen him. Maybe the disappointment Boyd couldn’t get over wasn’t about missing the county championships; maybe it was something else that was eating away at him.
He pulled himself up into the shell and closed the hatch behind him. He lay there in the moonlight, the curtains open as always, and decided that when he woke up in the morning he could go back to the beach and spend the whole day there, watch the kite-surfing. He might even ask if one of the surfers would show him how it was done. He would forget all about Fitz, the county championship, his dad and everything. Maybe he would even ask Aurora if he could stay here the whole of half term; that would be exactly what he needed. As long Harry wasn’t planning on being around.
Sand and Bullets
A light swept across Boyd’s face, dragging him partially out of his slumber. He had been dreaming he was in a tunnel and couldn’t find the way out. He could hear voices calling his name: one of them was a woman’s, and although he didn’t recognise it, he felt like he had to run towards it. He’d had this kind of dream before, where a mysterious woman was calling him and he couldn’t find his way to her. But when the light hit his eyes, the dream slipped away. His heart was beating like a drum and he was sweating through his clothes.
The light had disappeared now, and it took a moment for Boyd’s eyes to adjust to the dark once again. When they did, he could see vehicles out on the road, lit from behind by the moon. There were a group of people on motorbikes, still moving but with their lights turned off. Their engines rumbled softly over the sound of the waves. Then they stopped and Boyd heard three soft taps on the hatch beneath him. He pushed his duvet aside and clicked it open. Aurora was staring up at him, her face was missing its usual warmth; something was wrong.
‘We need to leave, right now, no time for questions.’
She didn’t even sound like herself, but she didn’t seem scared or panicked either. What on earth was going on? Rubbing his eyes, Boyd picked up his phone next to his pillow; it wasn’t even three o’clock yet.
He lowered himself down onto the floor. In her bedroom, Aurora was throwing clothes into a bag. Harry walked back from the lounge, holding the TV remote.
‘What’s going on?’ Boyd said, his eyes still only half open and stinging around the edges from lack of sleep.
Harry didn’t reply. As he walked through the kitchen, he grabbed a big, heavy carving knife.
Boyd’s eyes grew wide; suddenly he wasn’t tired anymore. ‘What are you doing with that?’
‘Shhh,’ Harry replied as he lifted the heavy knife up to shoulder height and walked towards Boyd. He stopped just short of him, outside the shower room. Harry held Boyd’s gaze as he pointed a long arm back towards the lounge and clicked the remote control. Suddenly the van was filled with the sound of the TV. He slapped the remote into Boyd chest. ‘Hold this,’ he said. Boyd was confused but did as he was told.
Harry dropped down onto the floor of the shower room, dug the knife into the floor and pulled up the plastic lino, revealing the bottom of the van. There was a thin line where the side of the van was joined to the bottom. Harry rested the knife on the joint and hit the top of it five times, moving the knife along the line as he did so. Then he stood up and gently pushed his foot on the joint; it went right through, cracking the floor of the van. Boyd could suddenly see bits of long grass through the gap. The floor had come away so easily, as if someone had prepared it for an emergency escape.
Harry returned, grabbed the control and turned the TV down. Why did he need to cover up the sound? And from whom?
‘Listen, someone needs to tell me…’ Boyd began to speak, but Harry stopped him, holding up a finger. Boyd fell silent except for a frustrated huff. What the hell was this? Why weren’t they telling him anything? I
t was probably some kind of mistake, or someone that was no doubt here for Harry. Aurora came out of the bedroom with a small, flowery bag.
‘I’ll make this fast,’ Harry said to them, really sounding like a soldier now. It made Boyd’s hackles rise; he didn’t like being issued orders.
‘Some people are here; Aurora tells me that it’s something to do with your dad.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? What does this have to do with dad?’
‘Just listen, will you?! All your aunt has told me is that these are not nice people and we cannot stay here. We go down through there,’ he pointed to the fresh hole in the shower room floor, ‘and my truck is just over the other side of that hedge.’ He pointed through the wall of the van in the direction of his 4x4. ‘You two get going and stick together. I’ll follow and distract them if I have to. The truck isn’t locked. The keys are under the mat.’
Harry turned to face Aurora. ‘Get behind the wheel and watch for me. I’m parked on a hill, so when you see me in the mirror, release the handbrake and I’ll start pushing the truck. If we’re lucky, we’ll roll quietly all the way down to the Ferryman pub. We can wake the landlord and call for help.’ He turned to Boyd now. ‘Once we’re out of here, I promise, I will help you find answers.’
‘What does that even mean?’ Boyd replied, not quite ready to give in just yet. ‘Answers to what?’
Then, the chimes tied to the awning began to tinkle and all three of them froze. It could be the wind, or it could be a cat, Boyd thought. But then the sound suddenly died with a loud ‘CLACK!’ Someone had grabbed the chimes to stop the noise. Which meant someone was heading right for the front door.
‘Go, now!’ Harry whispered.
Boyd slipped on his Converse trainers and zipped up his hoodie as Aurora dropped her bag through the gap, then scrabbled after it headfirst. She turned her shoulders so she could get through and in seconds had wriggled out of sight. Boyd followed, down into the long grass.
The cold air suddenly hit him. The grass was wet, and the night had a different smell about it – it didn’t feel natural to be out here, and it didn’t feel right, running away. Aurora moved quickly, commando-crawling to the back of the van. Boyd glanced behind him under the van to see if Harry was following, but all he saw was tiny torchlights dancing across the grass on the other side of the static home and legs moving around in the shadows. He faced front again as they made it out from under the van.
Aurora saw a small gap in the hedge and barged her way through. Pulling his hood up, Boyd ducked his head and followed her. Once out onto the road, he looked back – still no sign of Harry. By the time he turned towards the truck, Aurora was already at the driver’s door with one leg in the cab. She waved Boyd over and pointed for him to get in the other side.
‘No, I’ll help push,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll be quicker with two of us; get in.’ She smiled at his stubborn bravery. Then, all at once, the silence was broken. Men shouted and Boyd could hear what sounded like pops of air escaping.
‘Get in the back,’ Aurora shouted, not bothering to whisper anymore as she jumped in and started the truck. Boyd climbed up on the rear bumper as Aurora crunched the gears and hit the accelerator. As she did, Harry suddenly came into view. His head appeared over the hedge at the back of Aurora’s van. He was running up the hill towards the top corner of the park. He was moving fast, almost as fast as the truck, but as they gathered speed, Boyd could see they were in danger of leaving him behind. Just then, Harry reached the top of the hill, jumped over the hedge like a hurdler and landed hard in the back of the truck, on top of the pile of weeds and grass. Pretty agile for a gardener, Boyd couldn’t help noticing.
Boyd climbed over from the bumper and as he did, the popping sounds were joined by clanks against the bodywork of the truck. ‘Oh my god! They’re shooting at us!’ he shouted at no one in particular. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘Yep,’ Harry replied, dismissing Boyd and moving up towards the cab. He leant over to the open driver’s window. ‘Slide over,’ he shouted to Aurora. She started to move, very slowly, keeping her hands on the steering wheel and her foot on the accelerator. Harry brought his right leg out of the flatbed of the truck and down onto the footplate below the driver’s door. He opened the door and, grabbing hold of the truck roof, swung himself inside the cab and slammed the door shut in one swift motion. Boyd watched as Aurora slid over to the passenger side, the two of them timing it perfectly.
Aurora turned to Boyd and slid open the small rear window of the cab so he could hear her over the engine and the sound of gunfire. She pointed to the passenger door. ‘Get in this side, come on,’ she said to Boyd.
Just then, the road behind them lit up and the night was alive with the thunder of motorbike engines. Boyd scanned the flatbed of the truck. He had a shovel, a fork and some barbed wire. Hanging on a hook at the base of the cab was an old leather bag, and inside it he found three heavy tent pegs. He looked back at Aurora and shook his head. ‘No, I’m staying here.’ He looked to the road in front of the truck. They were heading past fields and some houses, down towards the Ferryman pub, which was the last sign of life before you hit the sea. An idea kindled in his mind. ‘Harry, take the left up ahead, into the beach car park.’
Harry started to protest. ‘Boyd, we need to…’
Boyd cut him off. ‘Just do it! Get inside the gate, then stop the engine and kill the lights.’
Harry swung the truck into the entrance as Boyd had said. There was an old wooden barrier and a rusted metal gate, but the barrier was always up, and the gate was never closed. Harry glided the truck straight through, pulled on the handbrake and turned off the engine. Boyd grabbed two sets of thick gardening gloves and passed a pair to Harry as he climbed out of the cab. Boyd nodded towards the barbed wire. ‘Give me a hand here.’
Harry followed Boyd’s lead. They put on the gloves and started unravelling the wire. Boyd was lashing one end around one of the old metal gateposts. Harry got hold of the other end and pulled it towards the opposite post. They had to be quick: Boyd could hear the motorbikes as they steadily popped and spluttered along the road. The riders were checking driveways and tracks for any sign of the truck. When Boyd and Harry had finished, the barbed wire was wrapped tightly around both posts and stretched across the entrance at knee height; that would do the job nicely.
‘Let’s go,’ Harry said, removing the gloves and throwing them back in the flatbed.
‘Hang on.’ Boyd stepped back to the old barrier and started to push it down. Before he could finish, one of the motorbikes crept along the road into view. The rider was checking the entrance to the field opposite the beach. As he turned his handlebars, his headlight swept onto Boyd and the man quickly grabbed for the machine pistol strapped around his body.
Boyd let the barrier drop and ran for the truck. ‘Go!’ he shouted as Harry, already back in the cab, hit the button for the ignition. The big engine coughed into life and Harry stamped on the accelerator. In the side mirror, he saw Boyd jump onto the back of the truck.
As the motorbike came around the corner, the cab was flooded with light. The man skidded the bike to a halt and took aim. Suddenly, Harry’s side mirror exploded as the man opened fire. ‘Get down!’ he shouted to Boyd and Aurora, the truck engine snarling as they tore off through the empty car park.
The man on the motorbike let his gun drop back to his side, pulled on the throttle and flew towards the entrance. Just as Boyd had hoped, he was distracted by the barrier and ducked under it at high speed without even looking for any other obstacles. As he cleared it, he brought his head up and the bike collided with the barbed wire, which bit into the machine just above the front wheel. The wire was supported by two metal posts that had been set in concrete for around 40 years – this wasn’t a fight the motorbike was going to win. The machine spun wildly out of control, flying sideways and over the top of the wire before it flung the man through the air. Boyd watched as he hit the ground, rolled and skidded
over and over on the rough gravel.
That was one down.
Another bike roared around the bend just in time for the rider to see his friend hit the dirt. He turned his bike to the left and powered up the hill next to the entrance, disappearing out of Boyd’s sight.
Up ahead were a set of steps where the car park ended and the beach began. Harry dropped down a gear and put his foot to the floor. ‘Hang onto something,’ he shouted.
Boyd grabbed the wide silver roll bars that came down from the back of the cab to the side of the trailer and he bent his legs. Harry hit the concrete kerb going up to the steps, and the truck took off. As it did, the second motorbike suddenly appeared, bursting out of the sand dunes to their left and flying straight over the top of the truck in mid-air. Boyd ducked as the back wheel missed him by what could only be a few millimetres. He heard the scream of the engine and smelled the rubber as the wheel clipped the roof of the truck cab, just centimetres in front of his face. The truck smashed into the sand hard and Boyd bounced back up and out of the flatbed. He let out a cry of pain as he held onto the truck with everything he had before crashing back down in a storm of weeds, grass and sand.
Harry didn’t take his foot off of the accelerator; there wasn’t time. The motorbike landed to their right, back wheel first, in the shallows of the sea. The man skidded to a halt, squirting sand and water up from his back wheel as he did so. Then, with one rev of the engine, he was back in pursuit.
It wasn’t long before he was right on their tail again. Boyd sat up in the back of the truck to see they were hurtling along a vast stretch of sand, with the sea to their right. The sand stretched back from the water and up into a hill. At the top of the hill was a steep ridge lined with bushes and trees, on the other side of that were the sand dunes Boyd loved to spend hours in. He could see the man was trying to get his motorbike alongside the truck, but Harry was weaving left and right, tapping the brakes. The man had to drop his gun back to his side so he could concentrate on not getting hit by the truck.
Operation Hurricane: The Evan Boyd Adventures #1 Page 7
