The two of them went back inside and I saw my chance. I hurried over to the boot and checked it out. Apart from a large, red tartan travelling rug and the small overnight bag, the spacious boot was empty. I climbed in and huddled down, pulling the rug over me. I hoped she wouldn’t look too closely in here, and that I’d be able to work out how to open it from the inside. I also hoped ‘Timmy’ wasn’t going to turn out to be her son—someone who might easily take me down if he found out I’d hidden in his elderly mother’s car boot.
I could hear their voices returning and within a few moments the boot slammed shut, leaving me in darkness. I never thought I’d be curled in the back of a boot by choice, not after being thrown in one against my will by Oriana’s thugs the first time they grabbed me.
The ignition started and I heard Rhonda’s voice calling, ‘Have a safe trip, Melba, dear!’ as the car slowly crunched over the gravel and turned into a lane. A short while later I could hear the sounds of the highway. Melba’s car paused, no doubt waiting for a break in the traffic, before turning onto the highway and on the way to Valley Heights.
I was pretty uncomfortable, but relieved that I was finally on my way back to the city, and to the hospital, to stop them turning off Gabbi’s life support.
Even if there was a roadblock, I couldn’t imagine the police suspecting Melba of aiding and abetting the most wanted fugitive in the state. At least that’s what I told myself.
We cruised along and I tried to catch some sleep, but it was impossible. Images of Gabbi kept haunting me—looking like she did that day in January when I’d found her, pale and unconscious, barely breathing, in a heap on the floor of my old house.
The car had stopped and I heard the front door slam. Somewhere, close by, a dog was barking.
‘Now, now, Timmy,’ I heard Melba shout out, her voice getting clearer as she came around to the boot. ‘Mama’s back home again. Just let me get unpacked first, and then we can catch up.’
Timmy was just a dog! I heard a click as the boot was released. Soft light fell through the weave of the red tartan rug that was covering me, and cool air gushed around me. I felt movement nearby as Melba picked up her overnight bag.
‘You can come out now,’ she said.
I was too stunned to move for a moment. Was she talking to me?
‘Young man, you can come out now,’ she repeated.
The old girl had known I was in there all along!
Sheepishly, I pulled the rug off me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I just really needed a lift … I hope I haven’t scared you.’
I climbed out of the boot, lugging my backpack out with me. Nearby, a dog was going bananas.
‘A stowaway, eh? I must say, I’ve never had one before but, don’t worry, I’m not afraid in the slightest. I’ve seen a whole lot in my life more frightening than a boy in a boot. Especially not a scruffy, skinny one like you; you look like you could do with a good hot meal … and a bath.’
A hot meal? Was she nuts?
She gestured to her bag, as if she was telling me to carry it for her, so I quickly picked it up and followed her as she walked up the front garden path and onto the shady verandah of her cottage house.
‘Settle down, Timmy. We have a visitor for the night,’ she said to the dog that was jumping at the front door, scratching and whimpering.
‘Thanks,’ I said, thinking how much I’d love a home-cooked meal and somewhere to sit down, ‘but I need to get back to the city, pretty urgently. That’s the only reason I snuck into your boot. It’s really important I get to the hospital. A family member of mine is really sick.’
‘That’s terrible,’ she said, unlocking the front door. ‘Of course you must get there. I’d drive you myself but I’m afraid I have other responsibilities.’
The second the door opened, a small, white, yappy little dog with a diamante collar launched itself at me, snarling and snapping.
‘Don’t mind Timmy, he’s just excited that we have a guest with us. Please come in,’ she said, stepping back to let me inside. ‘My name’s Mrs Melba Snipe.’
The crazy little dog was leaping up at my knees, biting my jeans.
‘Tom,’ I said, extending my hand to her, avoiding the leaping mutt who seemed to want to take my fingers off. I was still in shock from her reaction to me, but I took her hand and shook it. It was so small and frail—her skin moved like tissue paper.
We walked down the hallway and into her living room while the yappy dog still jumped about around us. Mrs Snipe unlocked a sliding door that opened out to a grassy backyard. She gave the dog a little push outside, poured him some dog biscuits into a bowl sitting on a mat out there, and then slid the door shut again.
I put her bag down and took a look around the living room. The carpet was thick, and an unusual shade of green. The walls, too, were green and had a floral wallpaper trim running along their middles. Everywhere I looked, surfaces were covered with flowers—plastic, silk, paper. They stood in vases, in jars, on dishes and plates. They stuck out of jugs and brackets on the wall. Even the window sills were swamped with them.
The walls in the kitchen were different—they were covered in heaps of tightly packed frames holding old photographs of people, mostly black-and-white pictures of two particular men: one in uniform, and another one who could have been his brother, or son.
‘I must get back to the city, Mrs Snipe,’ I said. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’
Something cooking on the stove in the nearby kitchen made me realise again how hungry I was. I followed Melba over to it.
‘Before I left yesterday to visit Rhonda,’ she said as she slipped a delicate hand into a polka dot oven mitt and then lifted the heavy lid of a pot, ‘I put a casserole on in my slow cooker. It should be done to a tee by now. You must stay and have something to eat. You’re looking a little pale.’
She stirred the simmering pot on the stove. I had never smelled anything better in my life, but I felt restless, I couldn’t keep still.
She turned back to me from the stove. ‘Here, pull up a chair.’
I was edgy with anxiety, but I sat down anyway. I needed to eat. I watched as Melba filled a kettle with water from the tap, and then carried it carefully over to the stove.
Before long it was whistling.
‘Tea?’ she asked, adding a couple of bags to the pot.
‘Sure, thanks.’
She bent down to a little cupboard and pulled out two completely mismatched sets of fine teacups and saucers, a small milk jug and a sugar bowl. They, like the rest of the place, were floral, and had wide mouths and ornate handles.
‘Fetch me those two bowls over there, will you, pet?’
I followed her eyes to a pair of white bowls and picked them up. When I turned back to the table, my teacup was filled to the brim and steaming. Melba leaned over with the slow cooker pot and a ladle, and dished us both out a good helping of her casserole.
It was delicious. I wolfed it down so fast it was like I’d forgotten I had teeth for chewing. When Melba offered a second helping, I happily accepted. In return, she seemed pleased to have company, and someone to feed.
‘Mrs Snipe, that was so good,’ I said, after practically licking my bowl clean. ‘That was one big casserole.’
‘Yes, I always cook for two, at least,’ she responded, promptly.
‘For two?’
‘Well, in spite of my age, I’m not crazy,’ she said with a giggle. ‘I know it’s only me here … but old habits die hard.’ The dog barked sharply from outside, like he was interrupting her. ‘Oh, and you, Timmy,’ she added, raising her voice in the direction of the bark from outside. ‘How could I forget you?’
‘I’m glad I could help you eat it,’ I said.
‘Me too, dear. It’s been a long time since Mr Snipe left us,’ she said, sadly, ‘but not a day goes by without me thinking of him. We met when we were just sixteen, you know.’
Wow, I thought. I was fifteen, almost sixteen. It was hard to imagin
e this frail, old woman in front of me ever being my age.
‘Is that him?’ I asked, gesturing to the many photos of the man in uniform, hanging neatly on the wall by the fridge.
She smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, that’s him. The lovely chap in the photo next to him is my son,’ she said. ‘Shall I put another pot on, then?’
Over another cup of tea, Mrs Snipe seemed to want to know all about my sick family member, and I ended up pretty much telling her the truth. Well, the truth without all the gory details, like revealing the fact that I was a fugitive and why. When she asked me how my little sister had come to be on life support, I mumbled something vague about a bad fall she’d had while bushwalking. I also told the story that I’d been working up and down the coast, helping with deliveries.
‘I’m pooped. I know it’s only early, but I think I’m going to have to head off to bed,’ Melba announced when we’d both finished our tea. Bed. I started yawning at the thought of it.
‘You’re welcome to wash up and stay here for the night,’ she added as she slowly lifted herself out of her seat. ‘No good you heading off now. And my couch is rather comfy. There are blankets and towels in the closet next to the bathroom. I suggest you have a hot shower, a good rest and then, if you must, move on early in the morning.’
The sickening thoughts of Gabbi wouldn’t leave my mind, but she was right. I figured I’d have a better chance of finding a way to the city in the daytime, and I was exhausted. I hadn’t slept more than a few hours in the last couple of days, plus I had no idea when I’d have an opportunity like this again.
‘I hope I’m not about to offend you, but your clothes are a real mess,’ Melba said tentatively. ‘Can I offer you a pair of my son’s old jeans and a clean shirt? You’re about the same size as he was when he was your age, years ago of course. I actually have a box full of his things that I was going to give away. To a good cause. But I think you’re probably a good enough cause.’
‘That’d be great.’ I wasn’t at all offended; in fact I was really grateful.
She led me to her son’s clothes and the bathroom, before saying goodnight and disappearing into a room down the far end of the hallway.
274 days to go …
‘Well look at you! That’s much better, isn’t it?’ Melba said with satisfaction, as I stepped into the kitchen, wearing my new clothes. She looked me up and down a few times and smiled warmly, then she shook her head, like she was shaking away an unwanted thought. ‘Toast?’
‘Love some!’
I’d slept like a baby. She was right about the comfy couch. I’d woken up feeling refreshed and strong and ready to tackle whatever it was going to take to get me to Gabbi.
‘Perhaps you could do a little something for me when you get to the city? A small favour,’ asked Melba.
‘I’d be happy to,’ I said, smothering my toast with a thick dollop of crunchy peanut butter. ‘What is it?’
Melba disappeared from the kitchen for a moment and returned with a book in a paper bag. ‘My friend Elvira left this here when she last visited. Would you mind popping it in her mailbox? The address is written on the back there. I’d be most grateful.’
‘I’ll make sure your friend gets it back.’ I took the book and tucked it away safely in my already-bulging backpack.
‘Thank you, Tom. I really feel I can rely on you.’ Then she frowned. ‘There’s something awfully familiar about you.’
‘I’ve been here and there, helping with the deliveries,’ I said vaguely. ‘It’s quite possible you’ve seen me around before.’
‘Perhaps it’s just that you remind me so much of my son … Especially when you’re in his clothes!’
‘Ha ha,’ I laughed, looking down at myself. ‘You’ve been so kind, Mrs Snipe. Especially for not saying anything about me being in the boot. Anyone else would have flipped out!’
Melba chuckled. ‘Well, it certainly isn’t something you see every day, but I knew you couldn’t do me any harm while you were stuck in my boot, and then when you got out, looking so miserable and hungry, I didn’t have the heart to get cranky with you and send you away.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling grateful.
‘Now that doesn’t mean you should continue with that form of transportation,’ Melba added with a wave of her finger. ‘Not all old ladies are as fearless, or as trusting, as me!’
‘Don’t worry; I’ll make sure I catch the bus in future. Thanks again for everything,’ I said as I put our plates in the sink. ‘The first thing I’ll do once I’ve seen my sister is deliver your friend’s book to her.’
‘Come again, won’t you?’ she asked, softly, with a hand on my shoulder.
‘Of course.’
I grabbed my things and walked down the hallway to the front door. ‘Say goodbye to Timmy for me,’ I said.
The strange little dog must have heard his name; he started yapping like crazy, and running around the side of the house, probably to try and take a bite out of me in the front yard. But I was quicker. I raced down the garden path and tackled the gate in a one-handed leap.
Cautiously, I headed back to the highway, constantly looking to my left and right. It was just as well I was alert because when I reached the turnoff, I spotted a roadblock.
A line of policemen was stopping traffic heading towards the city, and carefully checking the back seats and boots of every vehicle. If we hadn’t taken the Valley Heights exit yesterday and instead come this far, I would have given one of those officers quite a shock from my position in Melba’s boot, and undoubtedly spent the night in a concrete cell.
Thanks to her kindness, food and couch, this new obstacle didn’t faze me. Yeah, it meant that it would take me a lot longer to get where I was going, but I was free, and I was well and truly on my way to the hospital. That was all that mattered.
Straight away I began backtracking through the bush, and when I finally felt I was close enough to the highway to keep following it, but far enough away from it not to attract any police attention, I restarted my journey.
I was running as much as I could, only slowing to walk when I felt myself really tiring, or when my backpack was feeling too heavy. I wasn’t only running for my life, I was running for Gabbi’s.
I’d made a lot of ground over the day and had snuck onto a property to have a quick drink from a tap. I quickly ran back over the fence and under the cover of the bush when a whoomp, whoomp, whoomp, suddenly took my attention to the sky. A helicopter had begun circling the area I was in.
The trees had started to thin out substantially, so it was becoming more and more difficult to stay out of sight. Eventually I decided to sit tight under some bushes until the sun went down.
boges, what’s happening? any news? any changes?
nothing, no & no. still have till the end of the week. where r u? everything ok?
i’m cool. making my way back as fast as i can. might have 2 camp here 4 nite tho.
My night goggles had come in handy again, helping me walk a few more kilometres in the dark. I’d put a lot of distance between me and Melba Snipe’s little cottage in Valley Heights, and was slowly closing the gap between me and Gab.
She had less than a week to live unless I got there in time to stop them. I didn’t even care any more if I was arrested—as long as Gabbi’s life support stayed on, she had a chance of recovering. Stuff the Riddle, the Angel and the Singularity. Stuff Oriana de la Force, Vulkan Sligo … and Winter Frey. Stuff what Mum thought of me. Stuff it all. Right now Dad would only want me to focus on keeping his little girl alive.
I found a good camp site—some soft soil sheltered by a wide tree—then pulled out almost all of my clothes so that I could layer myself in them and keep warm. Within seconds I’d curled up in my sleeping-bag, one arm outstretched around my backpack, and fallen asleep.
Sometime later, something woke me. I sat up in alarm, and scanned the darkness. I grabbed the night goggles and held them over my eyes, and looked around slowly for movement. No
thing. No-one. You’re just jumpy, I told myself.
Soon I’d fallen asleep again, but couldn’t settle. I was drifting in and out of dreams—snippets of my recurring nightmare flashed into my consciousness, and the freezing desolation of its atmosphere chilled me into waking. The cold night air gave me no relief from the terrible vibe that the images of the white toy dog had left me with.
I sat up for a moment, huddled in my jacket, holding the guardian angel pin that Repro had given me. I rubbed my thumb over the fine details of the tiny angel’s robes and wings. I sure needed an angel to look out for me. Not like the Ormond Angel who so far had brought me nothing but trouble.
273 days to go …
I sprang awake. Someone was trying to pull my backpack from me!
For a second I was dazed and confused until I saw a stooping figure, lugging my bag away.
‘Give that back!’ I yelled, jumping to my feet and rubbing my eyes to try and wake myself up. ‘What do you think you’re doing? That’s mine!’
Last night I’d told myself that nothing mattered, except reaching Gabbi. But I needed my bag to get me there! Shock and fear startled me. Immediately I thought of Sumo and Kelvin, tracking me down after all, but this guy … this guy wasn’t either of them …
I launched at him and grabbed the backpack hard, tearing it away from him. He stumbled backwards and I took advantage of that to throw myself on top of him. My knees held him down by his chest, and my fear turned into anger—then rage. My blood surged through me in a fury! I’d had enough of people pushing me round, threatening me, chasing me, locking me up, running me off the road, terrorising me—and now someone was trying to steal the bag containing the only things I owned!
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