by John Larkin
Oh right! thought Brendan. ‘I mean, what happened to the guy who owns the shop?’
‘Well, you should have said. I’m not psychic. Young people today …’
‘He’s okay,’ interrupted one of the other members of the crowd who appeared to have had enough of the self-elected leader and felt it was time for a bit of anarchy. ‘His son just got back from Perth. He took him up to the hospital. He had a bit of sand in his eyes, that’s all.’
Brendan thanked the woman for the information, scowled at the other guy and bolted off to the station.
‘Dad’s okay I think. But I’m not sure if he’s still possessed or not. Ducky must have just come home from uni. Lucky I missed him. I hope Nick’s all right.’ Brendan flipped open what was now the most battered laptop in history. ‘I think he exploded.’ He looked at the cursor. It wasn’t flashing, but there were a couple of words next to it that appeared to be almost burnt into the screen.
Brendan wiped off the dust. When he did, he saw that it simply read:
> IT’S DONE.
Chapter 27
The thrust of the jet engines sat Brendan and Brains back in their seats as the Qantas jet lifted them out of Perth and up into the night sky.
Perth looked great from the air; it had looked even better on the ground. Brendan would like to have shown Brains around for a bit, but Brains was worried that his mum might have figured out that there were no such things as maths camps, and he wanted to get back.
Brendan, who could normally be relied on to totally stuff things up, sat back deeper into his seat and thought about how great things had turned out. He’d beaten Blow-wave in the swimming race, he’d got back with Helen, he and Brains had crossed the country with their thumbs, and it would appear that Nick had brought his dad back to planet earth. All he needed now was a couple of horses and a sunset for him and Helen to ride off into and things would be perfect. But then he didn’t know how to ride a horse and besides, the way the ozone layer was it was probably safer to ride off into the moon.
But anyway, he was looking forward to going home, seeing his mum, getting his board out, playing chess and seeing some movies with Helen. Life was great.
About half an hour after taking off, the in-flight movie came on. It was an old one with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, but Brendan had had enough ghosts to last a lifetime. He put on his walkman instead and fell asleep.
Chapter 28
Brendan staggered into his room about eight o’clock the following morning. It had been about a week since they’d left and, not having had a shower or a proper sleep since Adelaide, he was feeling seriously tired and dirty.
He desperately wanted to go round and see Helen, but he needed a few zzzzzzz’s first. She’d understand.
Brendan was about to crawl into bed when he noticed that his monitor was on. Nick?
> THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP, BRENDAN.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
> ME EITHER.
‘I’m gunna miss you, Nick. I’m gunna miss you heaps. The last couple of months have been the best of my life.’
> THEY’VE BEEN THE BEST OF MY DEATH.
‘If you set up home in York, I’ll come and visit you when I save up enough money.’ He’d have to pay Brains back first, that’d take a while—flying didn’t come cheaply. He’d get a job at McDonald’s or something. He reckoned he’d have to cook up about a million quarter pounders to pay off his debt. The cheese burger rate wasn’t worth thinking about.
> YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO. FROM HERE I’M GOING TO GET A BODY.
‘Whose?’
> I’LL FIND SOMEBODY WHO HAS JUST DIED. THEY WON’T NEED IT ANY MORE. SO I CAN’T LET YOU COME AND SEE ME.
‘Why not?’
> IT’S TOO MUCH FOR YOU. WHEN YOU WAKE UP YOU WON’T REMEMBER A THING. BRAINS HAS ALREADY FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING.
‘Nothing? I won’t hear from you again?’
> NO. OUR TIME TOGETHER IS UP. WE’VE BEEN A GOOD TEAM BUT WE NEED TO MOVE ON. YOU’VE EXPERIENCED THINGS THAT NO OTHER LIVING PERSON HAS. IT’S NOT RIGHT FOR YOU TO CARRY THAT AROUND WITH YOU ALWAYS.
This wasn’t right. They’d been through so much. Nick was going to get his life back, so why couldn’t they be friends? It wasn’t fair that he was going to use what powers he had left to wipe Brendan’s memory.
‘Give me something to remember you by, Nick.’
>
There was a pause for a couple of minutes until Nick finally relented.
> DO YOU REMEMBER THE NAME OF MY SHOP?
‘Nick’s Nik-Nacks.’ How could he forget?
> IF SOMEONE EVER SAYS THAT TO YOU, YOU’LL REMEMBER EVERYTHING. IF THAT HAPPENS, GIVE ME A CALL IN YOUR DAD’S OLD SHOP—I’M GOING TO FIX IT UP.
Brendan slumped onto his bed. Sleep came and overtook his body and carried him gently down. He tried to call back through the darkness, but he was drifting fast. ‘Nick’s … Nik … Nacks? … Who the hell … would say … that? Nobody … would … ever …’ But it was too late. He was gone. Consciousness was just a distant memory.
Chapter 29
It felt like he’d been asleep for only a couple of minutes and already he was being called up to the surface again.
‘Brendan? Brendan? Are you awake yet?’
He broke the surface and opened his eyes. His mother was standing by his bed.
‘Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’ Brendan blinked and tried to focus. The sheets were cold and damp. He didn’t feel at all well. ‘I’m freezing.’
‘I’d let you stay off school today except for one thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s still school holidays. When did you get back?’
Brendan thought for a moment. When did he get back? Where had he been? Oh yeah, that was right, the surf camp. ‘Last night. The bus broke down on the way home, that’s why I got in so late. I didn’t want to wake you up.’ Funny, even when he said it it didn’t feel right. It was as if the memories he had of the surf camp weren’t real—more like a year-old dream.
‘No surfing for you today. You’re staying in bed if you’re not well!’
‘Yes, mein commandant.’
‘Guess what? I’ve got some really fantastic news.’
‘What?’
‘You didn’t guess.’
‘Three?’
‘No! I got a phone call last night.’
‘Who from?’
‘Guess!’
‘What is this? Sale of the Century or something? Who?’
‘Your dad. We spoke for over an hour—they’re coming home.’
‘For a holiday?’
‘For good. Your dad sounded just like his old self, a bit confused but I can live with that. He reckons he doesn’t know what he’s doing over in York, or why he went there in the first place. He said some kid who looked just like you came into the shop and threw some sand into his face. He and Ducky had to go to the hospital to wash it all out of his eyes, but apparently he’s back to his senses.’
‘How?’
‘Who cares? The fact of the matter is they’re probably on their way home already.’
‘Really? But what about the shop?’
‘It was hit by a cyclone.’
‘York was hit by a cyclone?’
‘No, not York, just your dad’s shop.’
Weird.
‘Okay, you stay there and warm up. I’ll bring you in a couple of boiled eggs mashed up in a cup and some toasted soldiers later on. Then I’ll make you a bed up on the lounge so you can come out and watch the big tv.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Mum.’
‘Oh, I almost forgot. You were having a bad dream earlier on, weren’t you?’
‘I dunno. I can’t remember.’
‘Yes, you were. I went to the bathroom. I could hear you through the wall, you were yelling and carrying on.’
‘Really? What did I say?’
‘Something about a Nick.’
‘Nic
k? What Nick?’
‘How should I know? It was your dream.’
A confused look set up on Brendan’s face. He looked like a sheep trying to work out a Rubik’s cube. He didn’t know any Nicks. Wait a minute, wasn’t there something about giving some Nick a phone call if he remembered something? No! that wasn’t right—he couldn’t call any Nicks, he didn’t know any.
‘Nick?’
‘Yeah. Oh, I remember what you said now. It made me laugh.’
‘What was it?’
‘You said, “Nick’s nick nacks”.’
Brendan reeled back shocked to the max as a million memories came pouring into his head.
A couple of seconds later he jumped out of bed and raced to the phone, totally spaced but moving fast.
A special thanks to my amazing editor Mark Macleod and to Jenny Wagner & Jacqui Larkin for their help and suggestions with the original manuscript.
Sydney-based author and screenwriter, John Larkin, was born in England but grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney. He has, at various stages of his writing career, supported his habit by working as a supermarket trolley boy, shelf-stacker, factory hand, forklift driver, professional soccer player and computer programmer. He now writes full-time. John has a BA in English Literature and a MA in Creative Writing from Macquarie University. John lives in Sydney with his wife and three children.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Ghost Byte
9781742754109
Copyright © John Larkin 1994
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Mark Macleod book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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www.randomhouse.com.au
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices
First published by Random House Australia in 1994
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Larkin, John, 1963-
Title: Ghost byte / John Larkin
ISBN: 0 09 182940 2 (pbk.)
Dewy number: A823.3
Cover illustration by Mark Sofilas
Cover design by Donna Rawlins
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