Launched!

by J A Mawter

  ‘Roger. Over and out.’

  As the two guards took off on foot Mio asked, ‘What was that all about?’

  Bryce gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Haircut palace means a low bridge. Some kids at a bridge as far as I can tell. Probably the High Road overpass. It’s the only one round here.’

  ‘Let’s go watch,’ said Clem. She turned and asked, ‘Hey, Tong. Want to come?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe we shouldn’t.’ Mio sounded unsure. ‘We might get in the way.’

  ‘No, we won’t,’ said Darcy. ‘We’ll keep our distance.’ Before Mio could protest again Darcy chased after the guards, with Clem his shadow and Tong not far behind.

  ‘Come, Mio. We ride.’ Tong took off, all the while looking back at Mio, calling, ‘Come!’

  By the time Mio caught up, she could see that the guards had called for a reinforcement. Three of them now swarmed over and under the overpass, checking behind bushes and in some scrubby grass. ‘Found anything?’ she asked Clem.

  ‘No.’

  As Tong watched the guards, signalling to each other, snapping orders into their walkie-talkies, and turning over every blade of grass, ice formed in his chest. His heart fluttered, then hammered a warning: e-scape, e-scape, e-scape. He hoped whoever had been here had got away.

  ‘Halt!’ The word ka-boomed through the chill afternoon air. On their bikes the Freewheelers snapped to attention. Tong closed his eyes. E-scape. E-scape. E-scape.

  ‘Leave me alone.’ The voice was shrill, splitting the atmosphere like a machete. It was a girl’s voice.

  Tong flinched. Sweat broke out on his top lip. His frozen body prickled with heat.

  ‘Leave me alone. Stop! Stop!’

  Dung lai!

  ‘Stop!’

  Dung lai! Different words. Same meaning. Even the voice could’ve been the same. Tong tried to quash the nightmare images but they ricocheted through his mind like a pinball. He’d been told the story so many times. His grandmother, cowering, her arm raised to shield her face from the raining blows. Her shirt, muddied and ripped. How their neighbour lay helpless, beaten on the ground, screaming ‘Dung lai!’ till his voice spluttered and went out. His beloved grandmother, dragged off to a hidden gulag, the so-called re-education camps—to be returned a broken woman.

  ‘No, don’t!’ The girl’s voice echoed through the still air.

  Then it was his grandfather’s voice he could hear. Ac gia, ac bao. [As the call, so the echo.]

  Tong would answer that call! With a scream he jumped off his bike and launched himself at the guard, his face contorted with fury. He was yelling and wailing, and the words came out all a-jumble–Engnamese and Vietlish. Despite being slight, Tong was steely strong. His grip on the guard’s arm never weakened. The guard was shouting. Other guards came running. More shouting. Darcy, Clem, Mio and Bryce screamed too, and flung themselves into the melee. Clipped to Clem’s basket, Bella went ballistic too, and when the bike stand gave way, beagle and bike joined the fray. With her first charge, Bella managed to sweep two guards off their feet and snare them in spikes and chains. If the bike hadn’t wedged itself around a post she would’ve knocked over the other one as well. Bella scampered back and forth, as far as her lead would allow, snapping and snarling at every grey ankle in sight.

  Darcy had one guard by the arms. Mio and Clem had another.

  Spying an opening in the throng, Bryce reached down and yanked the girl to her feet, so hard it was amazing she didn’t launch into the stratosphere. And as he did so he glimpsed her face. His mind hurtled backwards. He knew her. From where? The streets! He felt a pang. This girl was still trapped, but he’d got away. He shivered. She didn’t seem to have recognised him, and for that Bryce said a silent ‘thank you’. ‘Sh,’ he hissed as he half-dragged, half-pushed her towards a gap set in the bridge. He remembered it from the old days. They’d often come here to smoke, cocooned under the bridge, safe. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the opening was there for drainage. None too gently, he pushed the girl towards the gap. ‘In!’ he ordered and then, ‘Shush!’ Tong kept up the fight, watching the girl scuttle into the opening and disappear into the blackness. It was only when Bryce had returned to the group that the kids stopped screaming and let go the guards’ arms.

  ‘What the heck do you think you’re doing?’ yelled one guard.

  ‘Crazy kids.’

  ‘Wait till we tell your parents.’

  At the word ‘parents’, the Freewheelers blanched—even Tong, who now thought of his Auntie Kim-Ly and Uncle Hai as his parents. What would their parents do? They could all be grounded. Or worse.

  Quick-thinking Bryce stepped in. ‘Sorry. It was an accident.’ He grabbed Tong in a headlock, almost lifting him off his feet. ‘This boy here’s delusional. Thinks he’s at war. Been tough where he comes from.’ Tong wriggled and squirmed at his indignity. ‘It’s the uniforms, see. Makes him psycho.’

  ‘Eeeeyah!’ said Tong, kicking out his foot in an imitation of a martial arts combatant. Bryce gripped him harder so that Tong began to flail around with his arms, making little gurgling sounds.

  Mio frowned. At first she thought Bryce was trying a diversionary tactic, but now she wasn’t so sure. That headlock could strangle Tong. She was about to intervene when she saw Bryce’s eyes dart towards their bikes. He was telling her something. Get on! Tentatively she inched towards them, signalling Darcy to do so, too. Clem was already disentangling Bella and picking up her bike. Bryce edged away, getting closer and closer to Tong’s bike and his own. No words were spoken, but the Freewheelers knew what they must do. Put as much distance between the girl and the guards as possible in the best way they knew how.

  ‘Ride!’

  Five kids leapt on their bikes and had already started pedalling before the guards knew what was happening. Then the guards’ training kicked in and they gave chase. The Freewheelers moved like lightning away from the bridge, but as they fell into formation Bryce panted, ‘Slow down. They have to follow us. Away from the girl.’ In the lead Darcy pulled back, blurred legs and spokes taking on their true form. Seeing the kids slow down, the guards quickened their pace. Over his shoulder Bryce caught glimpses of reddened faces, heaving chests and pounding thighs. He thought of the girl, tucked away safely, and smiled to himself in the half-light.

  How easy it was to lure the guards back to the station and how easy it was to just keep on going and ride into the twilight. Several blocks away, they ducked into an alley and began winding their way back towards home.

  ‘Who is she?’ demanded Clem when she got her breath back.

  ‘And why did we have to save her?’ asked Mio between gulps of air.

  Both girls slumped in disappointment when Bryce answered, ‘I don’t know.’

  Darcy snorted like a recalcitrant camel. ‘You don’t know! You mean we busted ourselves over some girl you don’t even know?!’

  Bryce bit back, ‘Wouldn’t you want someone to do that for you? Besides, it wasn’t just me. Ask Tong why he went berko. He started it.’

  Mio’s voice softened as she asked, ‘What happened, Tong?’

  Tong put his head down and pedalled furiously. His thoughts were a whirlwind that he couldn’t contain. Who was the girl at the bridge? He didn’t know. What he did know is that she reminded him of the story of his grandmother. And he didn’t want to see anyone pleading like she’d had to. How could he explain? It wasn’t even something he’d experienced, something he’d seen with his own eyes. It was as if he’d inherited a memory. A memory so painful he didn’t want it to live again. How could he describe life in Vietnam before? Tong kept pedalling. It wasn’t that he chose to remain silent; it was that there were no words.

  Darcy pulled up abruptly, and because he was lead rider the others did the same, swerving in all directions to miss each other. ‘Good practice for the bike trials,’ he said with a smirk. But his smile disappeared when he looked at Tong. He chose his words carefully. ‘Tong. That boy at the
bridge, you, was one I’ve never seen before.’

  Tong hung his head, silent.

  ‘That boy looked like he could kill.’

  ‘No! Khong bao gio! [Never!]’

  Clem jostled her way through the bikes and put her arm around Tong’s shoulders. He shrugged. Unlike Vietnam, there would be no tears in this moonlight.

  Bryce got off his bike and did the same. Darcy and Mio joined them, five heads slotting together like a mosaic, with Bella weaving in and out of their legs. Finally, Tong pulled away. He wanted to tell them why he charged the guard, but the words wouldn’t come. One day, maybe, but not now.

  ‘It doesn’t really matter why Tong took on the guard, or why we helped that girl,’ said Clem. Her voice grew firmer as she went on. ‘Some things you just do.’ She thrust out her hand, palm down, and in a voice that rang into the night she said, ‘Freewheelers.’

  ‘Freewheelers.’

  ‘Freewheelers.’

  ‘Freewheelers.’

  But one voice was missing.

  ‘You not want me,’ said Tong in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

  ‘Hey,’ said Bryce, grabbing Tong’s hand and placing it on top of the others. ‘You might be one crazy aggro firecracker, but you can ride like the wind and you’re part of our group.’

  ‘Freewheelers!’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Hand us that rag, will you?’

  The next day after school the kids met at The Van armed with cotton wool and lacquer thinner borrowed from Mrs Jacobs, and paint remover and rags from Mr Lark. They scrubbed and scoured. The paint remover and lacquer thinner took away the graffiti, but they also took away some of the beautiful artwork underneath.

  ‘How sad,’ said Clem. Despite their best efforts, the rainbow still resembled a thundercloud.

  ‘It’s best to clean the graffiti off real quick or there’ll be heaps more,’ cautioned Bryce, his extra-zealous arm action making his fringe flip-flop in his eyes. ‘Best thing would be to paint the whole van. Cover it up completely.’

  ‘Too expensive,’ said Darcy. ‘Where would we get the money? Last time I checked none of us were millionaires.’

  ‘We don’t have to be millionaires,’ snapped Bryce. His fringe flip-flopped faster.

  After a lot of rubbing and scrubbing, scraping and aching, The Van was looking like a faded version of its old familiar self.

  ‘This is hard work,’ said Bryce. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Whose turn is it for food?’ asked Bryce.

  ‘Mine,’ said Clem. ‘Don’t worry. Give me a sec.’ When she pulled out an apple, orange and banana from her school pack Bryce’s face fell. But when she reached in and took out a bag of loose biscuits, some chocolate sprinkles, jelly worms and raisins, his face lit up.

  ‘What’re we having?’ he asked.

  ‘You’ll see.’ Then Clem did something that made Tong wonder if his friend had gone a little loopy. Checking to make sure the plastic bag was sealed properly, Clem placed the bag of biscuits on the floor and stomped on it with her foot.

  Tong wondered if this was some strange local cooking custom and tried not to look too incredulous.

  Clem stomped again, and again, and again, and again, till finally the biscuits looked like breadcrumbs.

  ‘Feel better?’ asked Darcy with a smirk, then he grabbed the apple and took a huge chomp, its tart sweetness making his tastebuds zwang-ng-ng.

  ‘Shut your trap, Darcy Jacobs, or you won’t be getting any.’ Clem took a large plastic bowl from her school bag and poured the crushed biscuits into it. Next, she tossed in the chocolate sprinkles, closely followed by the jelly worms and raisins. ‘Get us some spoons and plastic cups please, Bryce,’ said Clem. Taking a spoon she stirred up the mix, then scooped it into six cups. ‘One for Bella,’ she said. She looked around the group with a grin, announcing, ‘Bugs and dirt. Come ‘n’ get it.’

  The kids shovelled in mouthfuls. Bugs and dirt scattered everywhere. Bella was in her element. Her long pink tongue snuffled up the contents of her cup in record time, then she turned her attention to the crumbs on the floor.

  ‘She’s better than a vacuum cleaner,’ said Bryce. He watched Bella push her snout between the milk crates, going lick, lick, lick, the white tip of her tail quivering with excitement.

  ‘Any more thoughts about that girl?’ asked Mio, wiping her mouth with a tissue and running her tongue over her teeth to check that they were clean.

  ‘Lots of thinking but no answers,’ said Bryce. ‘I hope she got away.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘We’re going to have to stay away from the station.’

  ‘Better to keep our distance,’ agreed Bryce.

  When he’d had his fill, Darcy asked, ‘Where are we going to train for the bike trials then?’

  ‘On the street.’ Clem brushed the crumbs from her lap, sending Bella into another state of rapture. ‘Or Linley Park.’

  Darcy leant back on his milk crate, clasping his hands behind his head. ‘We’ve done the park to death,’ he said.

  ‘He’s right. For once,’ added Bryce. ‘We’ve ridden across, balanced on, practised ups and drops and stands on everything that’s tied down. Or not tied down, for that matter.’

  ‘The bus depot’s out. School’s out. Train station’s out. We’re running out of places to practise.’ Clem flung her hands in the air. ‘Any suggestions?’

  ‘I have one,’ said Mio.

  All eyes turned.

  ‘The Peak.’

  Nobody stirred or said a word. The Peak. How perfect.

  ‘If we go up there we’ll see what we’re up against,’ said Darcy, nodding in agreement.

  ‘It would give us an edge on the opposition.’

  ‘Could break us.’

  ‘Or make us.’

  The Peak it was.

  The kids rode for twenty minutes on the flat before the ground banked upwards. At first the rise wasn’t too bad, but it soon got steeper and steeper. There wasn’t much talking going on. Bodies swayed from side to side as the effort took its toll. By the time the kids arrived at the top, there was some serious muscle burn happening.

  ‘These bike trials,’ huffed Darcy. ‘I’ve worked out their psychology. The Peak’s so high they eliminate nine-tenths of the entrants before they even arrive.’

  ‘Sure is a killer,’ said Clem, sweat pouring off her face. In irritation she grabbed a hair elastic from around her wrist and tied her hair back into a ponytail, leaving the last loop of hair halfway through so it looked like a messy bun. She shook her head from side to side, enjoying the cool air on her neck, and announced, ‘Much better.’

  ‘Do that climb every day and we’re going to be fit,’ said Mio.

  ‘Have big fit,’ said Tong. Everyone burst out laughing, to his confusion.

  ‘Got it in one,’ said Bryce, reaching over and giving Tong a gentle poke.

  The kids wheeled their bikes through a large entranceway, past a sign that said Children 12 years and under to be supervised by an adult, up a gravel road and round a bend. Then they stopped, all eyes raised.

  The Peak got its name not only from the steep climb to reach it, but also from a tower up at the very top. The tower was about 5 metres high with a wooden ladder leading to a wooden platform from which you could survey the extensive grounds below. A flimsy railing was all that stood between someone on the platform and certain injury, or death. Huge bolts had been hammered into the platform, causing the aged wood to split in places. There was also a massive post built into the tower. Numerous ropes and cables were attached to it. One rope, pulled taut, was threaded through a pulley and attached to another post about 40 metres away. A wire rope was clipped onto the pulley and encased by solid metal nuts, and to this was attached a handle, padded with black rubber, and another looped rope of hemp. This way, someone could sit or stand in the loop or hang on to the handle and ride a hair-raising few seconds to the bottom. On the ground i
mmediately below there was a pile of inner tubes, positioned to break your fall should you let go.

  ‘Flying-fox,’ said Clem, her eyes aglow.

  Tong ducked. ‘Where fox?’ he asked.

  ‘Not a dog sort of fox. A flying-fox. Like a bat,’ explained Clem. Tong frowned as he tried to work out what she meant. Flapping her arms in an attempt at a bat imitation Clem asked, ‘Don’t you have bats in Vietnam?’

  ‘Ah, bats.’ Tong nodded as he thought of the Kashmir Cave Bat and the Vietnam Leaf-nosed Bat he’d seen at the Hanoi Zoo. ‘Yes, we have bats.’ He looked around, his brow furrowed, and asked, ‘Where bat?’

  Mio groaned. ‘Cable ride,’ she said. Then she pretended to hold onto a handle, with her legs tucked up and said, ‘Wee-ee-ee-ee-ee.’

  ‘Wee?’

  ‘Don’t even go there,’ said Clem with a groan. To solve the problem she began to climb the ladder to the platform.

  ‘Careful, Clem,’ warned Darcy, who was not as good at heights as his twin.

  When Clem stepped to the railing and looked down, the ground started to sway. She clung on. ‘Whoa. It’s awful high up here.’ She peered into the distance, marvelling at how far she could see—the train station was a mere speck. Her stomach clenched as she tentatively grasped the flying-fox handle and sat with her legs dangling over the platform.

  ‘Ki o tsukete! [Be careful!]’ Mio squeezed her eyes together but peeped through the lashes saying, ‘I can’t look,’ as Clem launched off.

  ‘Aaaah-h-h-h-h-h-h!’ hollered Clem…until halfway down, when she began to enjoy herself and stopped. She turned her face into the breeze, her red hair trailing behind, a half-grin, half-grimace as she watched the ground approaching with exponential speed. But just as she thought she’d crash, the pulley ran into a huge knot in the rope, causing her legs to fly up as if to kick the sky, then to jerk earthwards, so that when she let go she fell on her feet. ‘Whoo-hooooo!’ she screamed, her fist raised as though she was knocking on heaven to announce her victory. Answering screams could be heard in the distance. Examining the pulley, Clem saw how you could untie the looped rope and use it to drag the flying-fox back up the platform.