November

by Gabrielle Lord

  I could feel my phone vibrating on silent in my pocket, and when I saw that it was Boges calling, I hit ‘answer’ as fast as possible. I ducked into an alley to take the call.

  ‘Boges! What happened? Are you OK?’

  ‘Man, they drilled me. It was a tough few hours. They wanted to know everything, but don’t worry, I don’t think I’ve done any damage. I impressed myself with how good I am at lying now. I’ve become a master. Sometimes I remember the lies better than I remember the truth.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ I admitted. ‘Thanks, Boges. I’m so sorry you had to—’

  The phone cut out. I almost threw it on the ground in frustration—the signal had dropped out. I’d have to try him later.

  I was walking towards the football stadium. Crowds of people in the red and white colours of the local team were gathering ahead of me. It looked like they’d just piled off some buses at the bay. I wished I had my own red and white gear so I could lose myself among them all.

  The crowds were building up fast, and I noticed more and more cops and security guards milling around. I’d have to take the long way home to avoid them.

  My phone vibrated—it was Winter calling again. Suddenly I felt eyes on my back. Someone was watching me again, I was sure of it.

  I increased my pace, and the warning bells in my head increased too.

  Someone was watching me from a car, lingering on my right.

  I tensed up as I turned to see who my quiet observer was. I couldn’t believe my rotten luck.

  Of all the cops in the city conducting crowd control, it had to be him—Capsicum Spray Cop! The guy I’d escaped from months ago!

  He saw the shock in my face, and his suspicions were confirmed.

  He was onto me. As he scrambled to jump out of the car, I ran.

  I shoved and jostled my way through the crowds, ignoring the angry shouts of the people I was barrelling through. I didn’t have time to apologise—my freedom was at stake!

  I pushed and squeezed my way into the masses, forcing through, hoping that it would be impossible for him or any other cop to find me in this huge throng.

  Ten minutes later, I found myself being carried along by this great wave of sports fans. It was out of control. I was being pushed now, and realised I was being hauled through the open gates of the stadium, pouring into the grandstand. I fought my way clear of the group, only to be caught up again in another.

  Over the commotion of the rowdy football fans, attendants were yelling about tickets.

  I wondered where my pursuer was.

  I ducked under some scaffolding and found myself on a ramp where the footballers themselves suddenly appeared, charging up the slope, pumped to the max, about to hurl themselves onto the field. But it wasn’t only the players who suddenly appeared: alongside them was Capsicum Spray Cop!

  Somehow he’d managed to keep me in sight. He was bearing down on me, pushing his way past people to get closer. He looked more determined than ever to get me.

  ‘Hey!’ he shouted, as I ducked into the line of players. They were so fired up and focused that they didn’t even notice me as they surged along.

  Before I knew it, I was running out onto the oval with them! I ducked behind one of the players as I ran into the stadium, barely conscious of the exposure of my surroundings, desperate to escape the vengeful cop and the rest of the police backup he’d have behind him.

  I was vaguely aware of the roar going up from the tens of thousands of fans who seethed with hysterical excitement for the upcoming match and their team.

  Players from the opposing team stormed onto the oval, and the home crowd exploded into menacing booing and hissing. I looked around me—huge spotlights shone down like a hundred police choppers. I was a fugitive, mixed up in the beginning of a highly anticipated football match!

  My eyes searched for an escape, darting over the crowd like a Mexican wave. Another tremendous roar erupted—even louder and more intimidating than before. My sight stopped circling. I’d landed on the massive television screen, looming high on one end of the stadium. On it was a huge close-up of my face!

  Me!

  I’d been recognised! Again the crowd roared like thunder. I ducked and ran but was immediately tackled down by one of the players who’d spotted the impostor. The audience went wild! Winded, I struggled to my feet. Now the crowd was yelling out my name!

  ‘Cal-lum! Cal-lum! Cal-lum! Cal-lum!’

  I took off, running, as fast as my legs would carry me. I had to go faster than ever—I had professional sportsmen on my tail. The sound from the crowd was insane! The TV cameramen were providing a new game—Chase the Fugitive—and the crowd was loving it. They were all pointing at me like I was a horse at the races.

  I couldn’t avoid seeing myself up there on the screen as I moved this way, then that, sprinting in zigzag angles, confusing the football players who were trying to catch me.

  I’d almost forgotten about Capsicum Cop—I was just running! Players came at me from all angles but I was smaller and faster. I’d had almost a year’s training now and I wasn’t just here to win a match, I was running for my life!

  I ducked and swerved, avoiding them, while the crowd was chanting, ‘Cal-lum, Cal-lum, Cal-lum!’

  A stream of police officers poured onto the ground, and now a siren was wailing over the top of the chanting. In the grandstands, the crowd started booing the police! The angry mob was whistling and hissing at them, like the police were the opponents!

  For some strange reason the crowd was on my side! It didn’t make sense! I was the Psycho Kid, not their hero!

  The masses in the stands were now shouting, ‘Go Cal! Go Cal!’ It spurred me on, and I exploded in one direction, then swivelling like an ice-skater, I skidded away in the completely opposite direction, and off the field.

  I dodged cheerleaders and a goofy-looking mascot, and was running back down the ramp where I’d entered the grounds. I had no option but to keep going, even though I knew it led underneath the stadium and not out of it. There was no alternative. I avoided one final tackle from a player who went skidding into the hoardings around the edge of the oval, much to the delight of the noisy bystanders, and then I darted down the ramp again, disappearing from the cameras, and public view.

  It was quieter down here but I knew I only had a few moments before someone would catch me. I raced along the network of corridors with various rooms and dressing rooms off them, trying to find a way out. Already, I could hear the yelling and shouting of the police and their pounding footsteps.

  I took a chance and ran into one of the rooms at the end of the tunnel—obviously a dressing room—with showers at one end and a row of benches around the walls, littered with jerseys, boots and towels. There was a window, but it was high up in the wall, barred and locked, offering no escape.

  A huge koala mascot costume leaned lopsidedly against a wall at the end of the benches.

  Outside in the corridors, I could hear the police calling each other as they searched and cleared the rooms behind me.

  It was only a matter of time before they reached this room.

  I could still hear the muted roars of the crowd in the stadium above me: ‘We want Cal! We want Cal!’

  It was a frenzy!

  My heart was racing, my brain feverish with useless ideas on how to escape. I grabbed a football jersey and started pulling it on. Who are you kidding? I asked myself, as I caught my reflection in a mirror. I looked like wanted fugitive, Cal Ormond, now wearing a football jersey. I threw the jersey to the ground, cursing at the crooked stare of the sightless koala mascot.

  A huge riot cop stormed into the room opposite.

  After everything I’d gone through, and within days of organising flights out of the country, I was trapped under a stadium.

  The heavy boots of the approaching police officers stomped closer. Any second now, they’d spring me. Hopelessly, I scanned the room again for a place to hide, beyond the bench with the clothes and over
to the koala mascot. Its black plastic eyes seemed to stare crookedly into mine.

  My hiding place was staring straight at me!

  I dived over to the bench, hurled my backpack up on a nearby hook, where it blended in with all the other bags, grabbed the koala suit, shoved my legs into it, pulled my arms through the grey sleeves, and with hands made clumsy by the padded paw gloves, I grabbed the huge headpiece, and thrust it over my head.

  The koala mascot suit was huge on me. I collapsed my knees and hung my head limply, so that the costume looked lifeless and empty again.

  Then I froze.

  Maybe, just maybe, I could fool them. In the position I was in, I could just see out with one eye, through a mesh section in the head.

  I held my breath when I heard a voice. If I could have, I would have stopped my heart beating just for those few moments. To me it sounded like it was almost thumping louder than the roars of the crowds outside.

  ‘Another change room,’ a voice called. ‘I’ll check it.’

  Footsteps approached. I saw part of the guy’s uniform. I was like a statue as he walked past me, not daring to breathe.

  The footsteps moved away.

  ‘Check the showers!’ a woman shouted out.

  I heard the swing of the shower doors, as the cubicles were checked.

  ‘Shower area clear. No-one here’.

  I almost slumped further with relief as the officer left the room.

  ‘Hey, check out that koala mascot,’ called the woman who had shouted out orders earlier. ‘I always wanted to wear one of those things!’

  ‘Grow up!’ the guy said, mockingly. ‘Have you secured the rest of the corridor?’

  ‘No, seriously,’ she persisted. ‘I’m going to try it on. Send someone else in and I’ll give them a fright!’

  My body was shaking uncontrollably now. I shut my eyes tight, trying to decide what to do. Should I jump up and scare them? Take advantage of their surprise to gain a few seconds?

  ‘You’re not serious,’ said the other cop. ‘C’mon. Grow up. The boss won’t be impressed.’

  Please, I willed her, listen to him!

  All I could see was the dark blue fabric of the woman’s police overalls blocking what little vision I had. Any minute now, she’d grab the headpiece. I readied myself to move suddenly and swiftly. Her arms reached out to lift it.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ spat a stern voice. ‘You’re supposed to be searching for a dangerous psychopath, not playing dress-ups!’

  My heart stopped.

  ‘Yes, Sergeant!’

  The policewoman swiftly left the room and rejoined her partner. The voices slowly receded. The last remark I could hear was, ‘I told you so.’

  At those words, I slumped with relief, still shaking.

  The voices had faded and the thumping boots moved away. I’d been saved by the cop in charge.

  Or so I thought.

  Footsteps approached once more.

  Again, I turned to stone. Surely my luck had run out.

  ‘Nothing in here,’ called a voice. ‘Apart from a koala bear.’

  ‘Koalas aren’t bears,’ someone corrected him.

  ‘So what are they? Sure looks like a bear to me.’

  Please, take your stupid argument elsewhere, I silently begged.

  Finally, they left and everything was quiet. I was sweating, drenched inside the koala suit. A long time passed before I dared to move.

  I lifted off the koala head, and sucked in some fresh air.

  The rumble from the crowd started returning, like they’d decided to carry on with the game, in spite of the disruption—me. That meant I had until half-time to get out of here.

  I climbed out of the suit and grabbed my backpack off the wall. I hoped the visiting team didn’t mind me pinching a jersey, scarf and beanie, but I had to do whatever I could to get out.

  With the beanie jammed down over my ears, and the scarf swinging over my jersey, I shoved my hands in my pockets and ambled past the security guards who were supposed to be guarding the change room wings. It was surprisingly easy to do, because they were both glued to the television monitor, on the wall, broadcasting the game.

  On my right, a group of cops were huddled round a couple of guys about my age, demanding identification. On my left were two cops, watching the entrance. I spotted half a hotdog in a rubbish bin nearby, and quickly picked it up. I took a big, convincing bite out of it as I strolled past them.

  As soon as I made it out of the stadium and saw that I was in the clear, I spat out the gross, cold mouthful of hotdog, and grinned.

  I’d made it out.

  32 days to go …

  I went to check my messages and missed calls, but was interrupted by an incoming call from Boges.

  ‘Cal, I only have a second to talk, but I just wanted to tell you that your uncle really wants to speak to you. Can you call him?’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I have to go, sorry.’

  ‘Didn’t you see me on the news last night? I was at the big game,’ I joked.

  ‘Dude, you’re always on TV.’ I could hear the school buzzer going off in the background. ‘I’ll call you later,’ said Boges, before abruptly hanging up.

  That was weird, I thought to myself, but Boges was probably just busy and being cautious about contacting me after his run-in with the cops.

  I wasn’t sure about speaking to Rafe, but I figured I had nothing to lose by ringing him. Seeing the newspaper clipping of his bizarre interview after the abduction had turned him into even more of a mystery to me.

  ‘Hello, Rafe speaking,’ he answered on the third ring.

  ‘It’s Cal.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d call,’ he said, sounding sincerely pleased. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What did you want to talk about?’

  ‘This is long overdue, I think. I—’ Rafe sounded nervous. He had never been much of a talker, so I knew this wasn’t going to be easy for him. Whatever it was. ‘I saw you stop the sniper at the chapel,’ he said. ‘I know you saved me from a bullet. The cops might think otherwise, but I know what I saw, and I saw my nephew coming to my rescue.’

  ‘Have you told the cops that?’

  ‘Of course. However, they were unconvinced. So many of the guests claimed that you were the one with the weapon. Too many. They denied seeing another armed man. I was the only witness who claimed otherwise.’

  ‘What about Mum? Or Gabbi?’

  ‘They didn’t see anything, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘So, thank you, Cal.’

  ‘I’ve only ever wanted to protect my family,’ I said, for what felt like the billionth time.

  ‘I also wanted to speak to you about … my behaviour, earlier this year. I seem to have lost touch with people as I’ve grown older. Especially with young people. I don’t want you to make any mistakes about me. Or where I’m coming from.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  He took a deep breath and I waited for him to continue.

  ‘I felt very responsible, Cal, after your dad was … was no longer with us. I felt it was my responsibility to look after my brother’s family. You guys. I wanted to take it all on myself—not just the matters relating to the estate, but everything. I didn’t want any of you suffering any more. Especially your mother. She’s experienced far too much tragedy for one person.’

  Automatically I started reading into his words. He didn’t want us suffering any more? Did he mean after the abduction?

  ‘I realise now that I was foolish to think I could handle it alone. I should have included you more—after all, you turned sixteen this year. We should have been allies.’

  ‘What about the package—’ I began to say, but he continued.

  ‘I intercepted that package because I didn’t want you worrying about those drawings. Tom told me about his discovery in Ireland … and how dangerous it was. The more I learned about it, the more I realised the extent of the danger you were in.’
>
  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. I was shocked. Rafe knew about everything? ‘Are you serious? You’ve known about this all along? Why haven’t you helped me? I’ve been out on my own for eleven months! I’ve been fighting for my life, my freedom, my sanity! And you could have helped me! Why did you tell the police I shot you? Why did you tell them I attacked my sister? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Take it easy, Cal. Just hear me out. I didn’t lie about the attack in Richmond. At the time I believed you shot me.’

  ‘At the time? Does that mean you don’t think that any more?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was never one hundred percent certain, but then the police found your fingerprints on my gun.’

  ‘Haven’t we been over this before? I touched the gun at your house when I was looking for the drawings. What did you have the gun for anyway?’

  ‘Because I wanted to protect you. I knew danger was brewing.’

  ‘But you did the opposite. You turned your back on me. And why would I want to shoot my uncle? What reason did you tell yourself?’

  ‘Look, Cal, I understand you now know about Samuel.’

  ‘What does he have to do with it?’

  ‘The abduction damaged the family in ways you cannot imagine. We were so lucky to find you again, but no-one really knew what had happened to you. Or what the kidnappers had put you through. Hours had passed between the time you went missing and the time you were found. I guess we were always hoping you’d turn out OK, but we feared there’d be scars that would surface later in life.’

  ‘And that one day I’d go on a shooting rampage and try to kill my family?’

  ‘Cal,’ he said, like he was shaking his head. ‘One can never predict how the mind will cope with trauma.’

  ‘So you figured I’d flipped out, from being abandoned as a child, then you go ahead and let history repeat itself.’

  ‘Can’t you see that you’ve been safer on the run? I know it hasn’t been easy, but if you were here with us, you’d be like a sitting duck. The people we are up against are implacable—they will stop at nothing. You are the heir to the Ormond Singularity. You’re safest in hiding, or behind bars, believe me.’