Nancy Business

by R. W. R. McDonald

  Inside the cab, Fabulon was excited to see us. I pushed him out of the way. ‘In the back,’ I said, shoving him. He climbed over, his butt in my face and tail wagging into my mouth. ‘Yuck!’

  Devon started the engine and we circled round, then took off down the drive. In the distance, the avocado Land Rover sped along the gravel road towards town.

  ‘Faster!’ I said to Devon and he floored it. We hurtled down the steep driveway, bouncing around inside the cab. The Corrs’ ‘Forgiven, Not Forgotten’ boomed out as we approached the cattle stop.

  I checked the road. ‘No cars!’ I yelled and we rattled over the cattle stop and skidded onto the road. I banged into my door as the ute slid on the gravel. Devon straightened up, and I was pushed back into my seat as we raced after Dalrymple. We gained on the Land Rover, closing in on it outside Mr Tulips’ mailbox. Ahead on the rise was a small brown shape in the middle of the road. Dalrymple accelerated and swerved towards it. A burst of feathers flew around the sides of the bonnet and over the roof.

  ‘OMG,’ Devon said. ‘Did he just kill a bird?’

  ‘I think it was a hawk,’ I said as we drove past. I craned my neck behind and saw a brown lump on the side of the road.

  ‘What is wrong with him?’ Devon said.

  Up ahead was the intersection with the main road. The Land Rover swerved onto the tar-seal without braking, cutting in front of a white car, which blasted its horn and overtook Dalrymple. He was heading towards Riverstone. This is it. The note was really happening—Riverstone Bridge bombed 25 April.

  I gripped my seat as Devon slowed and we both checked for oncoming traffic. None. He turned, following the green Land Rover in the distance.

  ‘Hurry!’ I yelled.

  Devon put his foot down and we surged ahead. We were coming up to Dad’s accident site. I checked our speed, 137 kilometres an hour—the fastest I’d ever gone. I hated feeling this out of control. How fast was Dad going? But even at this speed, we weren’t getting any closer to Dalrymple.

  An ambulance with its lights flashing sped towards us. Its siren wailed as it raced by. I turned to watch it, but Fabulon blocked my view. I hoped it was for Uncle Pike. Help me, Dad. I don’t want to die, or Uncle Pike. I’m sorry. I love you forever.

  ‘It’s good.’ Devon’s voice sounded slow and thick.

  I turned to look at him; he was smiling and leaning back in his seat. We were losing speed.

  ‘Devon?’ The ute drifted towards the edge of the road.

  ‘We tried,’ he slurred.

  No, not Devon too. I fought back the urge to cry. Up ahead the Land Rover disappeared around a corner. I shook Devon but he slid against the driver’s door.

  I grabbed the wheel. ‘I need you to snap out of this.’

  He shook his head slowly, like he was trying to wake up. He went to slap himself but missed his cheek and got his ear instead. I needed to get Devon help.

  ‘Shit.’ If I stopped now then what about the bridge? And all the people who would die if we didn’t stop the bomber? Sweat prickles broke out on my scalp. I ripped off my beanie. I could not lose any more people.

  Nancy chased after crooks in her roadster. I reached over and gripped the wheel tight. So can I. ‘We’ll get help,’ I said to Devon. ‘Just hang on till we stop him, okay?’

  Devon half nodded.

  It was weird steering from the passenger seat but I had no choice. I swerved a couple of times until I worked out how much I needed to turn the wheel.

  ‘Can you work the pedals?’ I asked Devon. He didn’t answer. We were coasting to a stop. I tried pushing on his knee but it didn’t help. ‘Step on it,’ I said.

  Devon mumbled something then laughed but didn’t move.

  I slid over and sat on him. I jammed my foot down hard on his shoe covering the accelerator.

  ‘Ow!’

  The ute sped up. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But we don’t have any time.’ I screeched around a corner and Devon flopped towards the passenger seat. Up ahead, the Land Rover had nearly reached the railway crossing on the outskirts of town. Nothing was Minnie Mouse about the poles now, instead the large white crosses on top reminded me of Dad’s roadside grave.

  ‘What do we do at a crossing?’ I asked.

  Devon reached in front of him, catching something with his hand. ‘Flashing lights.’

  ‘No.’

  He laughed as the red lights started flashing and the alarm bells clanged. The Land Rover whipped across the tracks. A train appeared around the corner, heading towards the intersection.

  ‘Put your foot down,’ I said. I stood up and put all my weight on his foot, one arm pushing against the cab’s ceiling. ‘Faster.’

  ‘Are those bells?’

  I cranked up the stereo which worked for once. ‘Breathless’ blasted out, covering the warning sounds. Fabulon barked his head off in the back. My phone rang. ‘Gonna Make You Sweat (Everybody Dance Now)’ by C+C Music Factory mashed up with The Corrs and the bells.

  ‘That’s Lorraine,’ Devon said. ‘Ringtone … you’re welcome.’

  We were about to hit the crossing. I could see the train driver in his window. That can’t be good. He blasted its horn. It was going to be close.

  ‘Tippy, what—’ Devon slurred over the noise. He half opened his eyes and grinned at me. Behind him, the front of the train filled up the passenger windows.

  ‘Nothing.’ I shut my eyes and gripped the wheel. The train’s horn kept blasting us. It thundered louder and louder as I kept my foot flat. We bumped and bounced around in the cab as I drove across the rails. Then the thunder became a rumbling and the train’s horn blared behind us.

  I opened my eyes. Ahead the Land Rover cut through a stop sign and peeled off right down Rata Street, the heavy traffic bypass. At least he wasn’t going down Main Street where people would be shopping. But Rata Street ran parallel and led all the way to behind the town hall and then to Riverstone Bridge.

  Lorraine’s call ended as I fumbled for my phone. She rang back straight away. I tried turning down the stereo, but the volume was stuck again. I left it and answered the call, punching it on to speaker. In front of me a red car turned onto Rata Street slowly.

  ‘Chan, you there?’ Lorraine asked.

  ‘Hold on.’ I swerved. Fabulon yelped as he landed against the door. I drove in the middle of the road, passing the red car. There was a bang and metal scraping noise which changed to a crunch then tooting. I glanced in the rear-view. The red car’s side mirror dangled off it. ‘Fuck!’ I said.

  ‘Ambulance is here,’ Lorraine said. ‘He’s okay.’

  The car behind me kept tooting and flashed its lights.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘They found an empty ketamine bottle in Dalrymple’s quad bike. Ambos reckon your uncle’s in a k-hole but he’ll be okay. Probably used to it.’

  I let out a breath. At least that was something. ‘Devon’s drugged, too,’ I yelled over the music. We were nearing the intersection by the Bully. A silver station wagon pulled out in front of us. Shit.

  ‘Chan, where are you? At a party? I’ll tell the ambos to meet you guys.’

  I pressed the horn and drove onto the other side of the road and sped past it, causing the car to slam on its brakes. More honking and yelling followed us.

  ‘Hang on, Chan,’ Lorraine said. ‘Are you driving?’

  ‘Rata Street,’ I said. In the distance was the Land Rover. ‘He’s near Riverstone Auto Repairs. We’re trying to catch him but he’s getting away.’

  ‘I’ve called the police but they aren’t—’

  ‘Ring Barry,’ I said.

  Her breathing blasted on the phone mic.

  ‘Now!’ I screamed at her. ‘People are going to die!’

  Devon hung up the call. ‘Good chat,’ he said. He leaned on me. ‘K?’

  I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t. Luckily, no other vehicles were between us and Dalrymple—yet. And we were gaining on him. I needed to call Mum. Just in case. />
  The Land Rover passed the garage and police station. Fabulon jumped over the seat, his foot slipping on Devon’s head.

  ‘Argh.’ Devon’s eyes stayed closed and he smiled.

  Dalrymple turned onto the street that led to the bridge. I grabbed my phone and pressed the screen. ‘Call Mum,’ I said into it. Fabulon panted in my face. I glanced up. ‘Shit’. We were heading for the footpath on the other side of the road. I swerved back into my lane.

  ‘You stink of dead possum,’ I said to Fabulon. As if Nancy ever had to put up with this. ‘I bet Togo never ate rotten carcasses.’ He wagged his tail and tried to sit on my lap, licking my face. ‘Are you kid—’ Fabulon shoved his tongue into my mouth. I dry-retched, pushing him away with one hand. ‘Eeeeewww!’ I spat, which unfortunately landed on Devon’s hair. I wiped my mouth and tongue on my polar fleece sleeve. ‘Yuck!’

  Up ahead on the left was the police station. I tooted the horn. The only time you wanted a cop to see you in a high-speed chase and no one was around. I kept my palm flat on the horn, blasting it as we sped past. But when I checked the mirror, the street behind me was dead.

  Finally, I managed to one-hand dial Mum as we reached the corner. It rang loudly through the phone’s speaker. ‘Hold on,’ I said to Devon and Fabulon, and turned, pulling down hard on the steering wheel. The tyres screeched and I thought we were going to tip over, but then we were zooming after the Land Rover, closing the gap.

  I pulled up alongside it, on the wrong side of the road. A white car drove off the bridge, heading towards us. It tooted and flashed its lights at me, pulling over to the side as much as it could, but the road wasn’t wide enough for three vehicles. If I didn’t move over, we would have a head-on. Mum’s voicemail kicked in.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Hold on.’ I wrenched the steering wheel and rammed the side of the Land Rover. It drove up onto the footpath and the white car passed by us. The Land Rover smashed us back into the opposite lane. The corner of the bridge was coming up.

  ‘Shit.’ I couldn’t let him get away and blow up the bridge. This was it. ‘I love you!’ I cried into the phone before cutting in front of Dalrymple. The Land Rover swerved to miss us and hurtled off the road, over the bank towards the river below.

  ‘Bridge!’ Devon yelled, as we sped straight towards the concrete base of a bridge arch.

  I pulled hard left on the steering wheel, just avoiding the base of the arch and making it onto the bridge. The ute scraped against the concrete side, then bounced across the lane, smacking into the railing. I was flung hard against the steering wheel. I tried to correct the ute, but ended up back in the oncoming lane, and powering towards us was a logging truck blasting its horn.

  I pushed my foot flat on the accelerator, leaning hard back into my seat and yanked the wheel again. I swerved into our lane as the truck roared past us, smashing the side mirror off. Metal and logs rushed past centimetres from the driver’s window. Devon smiled and rubbed Fabulon’s neck. Somehow I managed to get us across the bridge without any more scrapes.

  I wrenched the wheel left, and we bounded off the road and into a picnic site. I slammed on the brakes and pulled on the handbrake. The ute spun and skidded on the wet grass, heading for the river. I closed my eyes and braced myself. We finally stopped skidding and juddered to a complete stop. I opened my eyes and killed the engine. We were on the edge of the riverbank.

  Across the river, the avocado Land Rover’s nose was touching the water. I jumped out, Fabulon chasing me.

  The river lapped against the shore. My heart pounded. Above me, the low hum of the traffic on the bridge was almost peaceful. I watched the Land Rover for any movement. I needed the police to stop him from setting off any bombs. I dialled Emergency Services, hoping at the same time that Dalrymple was still alive. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead repeated in my head as the emergency operator answered. ‘Police!’ I cried. Fabulon found a stick. He sniffed it.

  ‘Putting you through now,’ the operator said.

  Fabulon cocked his leg and peed on the stick as Devon fell out of the truck’s cab and crawled towards me. Across the river, the Land Rover’s driver’s side opened. I let out a big breath. He was alive, I hadn’t killed him.

  A male voice came on the phone. ‘Police, what—’

  For a split second the Land Rover floated above the water before a flash. The blast of the explosion hit me, roaring, and flattened me onto the wet ground. The Land Rover flipped into the air in a ball of orange and a plume of water shot up beside the bridge. I covered my face with my arm. Above me I could hear screeching brakes, horns and smashing glass—metal hammering metal as vehicles on the bridge crashed into each other. Devon landed on top of me, his body protecting me, pinning me down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I don’t know how long we stayed on that wet grass. Fabulon sat on my lap, nearly bigger than me. His breath stunk and his claws dug into my thighs, but I hugged him close. On the bridge, a police car and an ambulance crawled through the gridlocked traffic, their lights flashing. The ambulance siren wailed on repeat. Across the river, a wisp of black smoke was all that was left from the massive blast; the Land Rover had been ripped apart and scattered around the bottom of the river. Just like John Dalrymple.

  Fabulon licked me under my chin. I pulled on my sleeve and wiped the slobber off. Shit, the emergency call. I leaned over and reached for my phone on the grass, Fabulon wobbling but not leaving my lap. I checked but the call was gone; maybe I’d hung up in the blast. ‘I killed him,’ I said, and hugged Fabulon. Saying it out loud still didn’t make me feel anything. I wanted to feel terrible, guilty—something—but instead I felt nothing, maybe numb except for relief. Only then did guilt kick in. Guilt for feeling relief.

  ‘What was that?’ Devon asked, lying flat on his back beside me, still groggy from the drugs.

  ‘Ambulance will be here soon.’

  He gave a low laugh, right from his belly, and put his hands up, making patterns with his fingers against the sun in a patch of pale blue sky. ‘Not sure how we’ll explain this one to the rental company,’ Devon said.

  The police car made it off the bridge and turned in our direction, pulling over by the picnic area above us. Fabulon stared at the car, then lifted his head to look at me, crashing into my chin.

  ‘Ow.’ He licked me, getting my mouth again. I turned my head and spat. ‘Yuck.’ I pushed him off and stood up, missing his body heat instantly.

  A policeman got out of the car. Barry. My stomach knotted. I hadn’t seen him since the night of the bombing and then only for a minute. This was the first real time since I outed him to Lorraine. I brushed myself down. I hope he doesn’t hate me.

  Barry’s smile disappeared when he saw me. He blushed and gave a half nod. ‘You two all right?’ he said to Devon. I don’t think Devon registered. Fabulon barked then went off to explore the water’s edge again as Barry made his way over the grass to us. Some guard dog.

  Devon half sat up and Barry gave him an awkward half hug which Devon held on to for much longer than necessary.

  ‘Barry.’ I waved, forcing him to acknowledge me.

  ‘Tippy Chan,’ he said, half turning.

  I gave him a big smile. ‘Listen, I’m really sorry for—’

  ‘Water under the bridge.’ Barry looked at his shoes. ‘All for the best and all that.’

  ‘Barry!’ Devon said, as if noticing him for the first time. ‘So you’re officially out now?’ He pushed himself up. ‘Come to party?’

  ‘Not quite.’ Barry breathed heavily through his nose and wouldn’t look at me. ‘Want to tell me what happened here?’

  Devon put his arm around Barry. I started talking, telling him about our investigation, the clues we had found, Uncle Pike and Devon being drugged by Mr Dalrymple and the chase. When I finished speaking I expected him to arrest me.

  He put his pen down and finally he looked at me. ‘How did you … ?’ He sighed and closed his notebook. ‘I’m not saying you’re
wrong, but you had better be sure when you’re accusing other people of things.’

  I hung my head. ‘And I am sorry. About telling Lorraine. Outing you.’

  Barry shuffled around and gave me a tiny nod. ‘Ambulance is coming to check on Devon.’

  I really wanted to ask him about Dad, but I felt I had more work to do to mend things with Barry after Lorraine.

  He stopped halfway back to the car. ‘You’re wrong about one thing,’ he said.

  I shielded my eyes as I looked at him.

  ‘That note,’ he said. ‘The bomb threat? It was a hoax. Your mate Todd Landers.’

  ‘Todd?’ I laughed, I couldn’t help it. Wow, guess he hasn’t changed that much.

  Barry frowned and waved his hat in my direction before he got back in his car and took off just as the ambulance arrived.

  Despite it all I grinned: 25 April. I dialled Todd’s home and watched the paramedics get out. Todd’s mum answered, happy to hear from me. She put him on the phone.

  ‘Happy birthday, Lollipop,’ I said.

  The next morning Mum dropped me off at the stinky Airbnb. Uncle Pike had left early to take the ute to the garage on orders from the rental company. Mum had insisted I stay at home last night with Uncle Pike, while she worked late with all the traffic accident injuries. This morning she looked tired, even with her makeup on. She got out of her car and handed me the keys.

  I frowned.

  ‘For your uncle and Devon only,’ she said. ‘No more driving for you, madam. Not for a long while.’ Yesterday, we had only given Mum sketchy details. I had told her I had ‘helped’ Devon drive after he ‘fainted’.

  But something weird was going on. None of the news reports since had mentioned a bomb—they had called Dalrymple’s death a traffic accident. Lorraine wasn’t answering my calls either. Things were very wrong.

  Mum stood by the car and kissed me on the head. ‘I love you.’

  I hugged her. I didn’t want Mum to go to work today. ‘Love you, too,’ I said. I let her go and watched as she walked through the yellow and red leaves that blew across the road. At least when I was with someone it was easier to stop thinking I had killed John Dalrymple.