by Pam Harvey
A girl of about Angus’ age was riding a motorbike in circles. She revved it angrily when the boy didn’t answer, making the back wheel spin out to leave deep circular skid marks on the grass. She kept it revving until she’d cut the ground to pieces.
‘Hey, Teagan!’ the boy yelled over the noise, from a door that must have led back into the shop. ‘Dad wants you inside. Now!’
The girl stopped the bike and silence enveloped the backyard. The boy and the girl stared at each other.
‘And don’t ask me about the races, Teagan. You know it’s the way it’s gotta be. I hate it too, you know.’ The boy laughed suddenly. ‘But at least I’m racing.’ He disappeared inside the house.
A door banged open to Angus’ left and he crouched down, not wanting to be seen, but curious all the same. Teagan? She must be Teagan Proctor. Of course, he thought, moving away. She was the kid E.D. had been telling him about—the gun rider who hadn’t lost a race. But the boy had said at least he was racing. Did this mean that Teagan wasn’t? It didn’t make any sense.
Angus’ thoughts were interrupted by a throaty growl coming from the far end of the lane. He looked up to see two enormous black motorbikes slowly rolling towards him.
He leaned up against the fence, waiting for them to pass, but instead the bikes slowed down even more, coming to a stop right in front of him.
His heart pounding, Angus turned to walk away, trying to look as relaxed as possible.
‘Hey, kid. Stop right there.’
Angus paused, and then quickly turned round.
‘Me?’
‘What are you doing?’ Both riders were off their bikes but neither had taken his helmet off. They were dressed in black leather. Angus could see his reflection in the visor of one of the men’s silver and black helmets as he took a few steps towards him.
‘I…I was doing nothing; nothing at all,’ Angus stammered, taking a few tentative steps backwards, wondering if he should make a dash for it.
The second rider folded his arms across his chest and spoke.
‘Listen, buddy. This ain’t a good place for you to be hanging about, you hear? This laneway’s full of creeps who’ll try to steal your phone or your wallet while you’re not looking. Are you hearing me?’
Angus licked his dry lips and nodded.
‘S-sure,’ he said, taking another step backwards. The door to the shop banged open again. Angus was frozen to the spot, unable to move.
‘You know this kid, Alan?’ one of the riders called. Behind his dark helmet, his voice sounded muffled. The shop owner appeared alongside the two riders.
‘No, I don’t think so. Are you lost?’ Alan Proctor stepped towards Angus, but turned at a noise behind him.
‘It’s okay, he’s my friend,’ Teagan said, walking straight past the two bikies towards Angus. Angus looked from the shop owner’s face to Teagan’s, totally confused.
‘Well, why didn’t you say so, Teagan? What’s your name, son?’ Mr Proctor asked.
Angus watched as both riders slowly removed their helmets.
‘My name’s Angus. I’ve got to go, anyway.’
‘Hey, man. Hope we didn’t scare you,’ the first rider said, shaking out his long dark hair.
‘You want something, Peter?’ Alan Proctor looked at the man.
‘Just looking for some spare parts, Al.’
‘Come on, then.’
The bike riders followed Teagan’s father into the yard, walking their bikes.
‘Thanks,’ Angus muttered.
‘No worries,’ Teagan said, smiling. ‘I’m Teagan. That was my dad and two of his friends. One was Uncle Peter.’ Angus frowned, wondering why she’d said Uncle so harshly.
‘Angus.’ He held his hand out then dropped it to his side again, suddenly feeling stupid. ‘So that big guy’s your uncle?’
‘Not my favourite uncle, though.’ Teagan shrugged then smiled at Angus. ‘Do you ride bikes?’
‘No, I ride horses. But my friend E.D. rides bikes.’ Angus looked at his watch. He was already a few minutes late. ‘Um, you weren’t riding your bike down on the path along the creek on Monday, were you?’
Teagan shook her head. ‘I usually just ride at the practice areas.’
Angus reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Hannah had texted him a picture of the ear-piece Gabby had found on the track. He opened the message and held the phone out to her. Teagan looked closely.
‘I’ve got an ear-piece like that.’ She put her hand in her pocket and pulled it out. ‘See? Lots of people have them now.’
‘This one was found by the creek. Some idiot on a lime-green motorbike spooked King.’
‘King?’
‘My horse. I thought it might have been you because of the colour. It seems to be the most popular colour of the bikes here.’
‘Yeah, it is, but it wasn’t me.’ She held out her hand, palm open, wanting a closer look. Angus passed her the phone.
‘What do you use it for?’ he asked.
‘It’s an intercom device—like a two-way radio. It means that Dad can talk to us when we’re riding.’ Teagan looked at the ground. ‘Dad likes technical gadgets. He modified ours from the ones in the shop.’
‘Okay.’ Angus waited for her to continue but Teagan was silent. ‘Listen, I’d better go, but thanks for bailing me out there.’ They’d moved a little further down the lane.
‘No worries,’ Teagan said, lifting her head. ‘Might see you round?’
‘Yeah, maybe down at The Moon.’
Teagan laughed again. ‘Well yeah, I guess.’
Angus raced to the restaurant, panting as he stepped into the cool interior of Bellini’s. Teagan’s nice, he thought. I just hope I don’t ever meet up with those bikies again. He hurried to a table by the far wall where his father sat waiting for him.
Chapter 6
Croft’s Cement
Wednesday, 12 January
‘Where have you been?’
‘Hannah, listen. You’ll never—’
‘Angus, I’m at the hospital.’ Angus froze. He pressed the phone back to his ear. ‘There’s been an accident,’ Hannah continued.
‘What happened?’
‘It’s Tony. He crashed his bike.’
‘Is he alright?’
‘No, not really.’
‘So what happened?’
‘There was an accident at The Moon. A couple of other riders went down as well, but they’re okay.’
‘Hannah, what about Tony?’
‘He’s unconscious and he’s broken his leg.’
‘Oh no,’ Angus groaned. He knew a lot about broken bones and being knocked out. He’d seen it first hand down at the race track a number of times; luckily it had never happened to him. ‘Should I come down? How’s E.D.?’
‘I’m worried about him as much as Tony,’ Hannah said, softly. ‘There’s nothing more we can do here. They’re going to have to operate on Tony’s leg. He’s not allowed any visitors except for his parents at the moment anyway. E.D.’s on his way home.’
‘Then I’ll head round to his place,’ Angus said. ‘Catch up with him there.’
‘Good idea.’ Hannah chewed her lip. ‘E.D.’s going to need looking after as well.’
E.D. was sitting on the front porch step when Angus arrived an hour later. Angus’ dad had dropped him off along with a couple of bags of takeaway food from the Chicken Star restaurant. Dinner was gratefully received by Mario who had been just about to head out to get them something to eat.
‘Thanks, Angus,’ Mario said, tearing open a bag of food. ‘I’ve just realised I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.’
‘No worries. It was Dad’s idea anyway.’ Angus looked at his friend. ‘E.D., you want something?’
E.D. shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m good.’ He stared dejectedly ahead of him then suddenly got to his feet. ‘How can you both sit here talking about food and stuffing your faces when Tony’s down there in hospital?’ he blurted out.
Mario gently put down his chicken and turned to E.D.
‘Now you listen here, little brother. There’s nothing we can do now to help Tony. He’s in the best place he can be in. Ma and Dad are with him. There’s absolutely no use in us sitting around here all mopey.’
Angus shrugged. ‘Mario’s got a point. You being grumpy doesn’t help anyone.’
‘Someone did that to Tony,’ E.D. muttered, moving away from the others.
‘Don’t be daft, Emilio.’ Mario glowered at his back. ‘It was an accident.’ E.D. shook his head then moved further away. Grabbing one of the small cartons of food and a bottle of drink, Angus stood up and followed him down the driveway.
‘E.D.?’ he called. ‘You know Proctor’s Powerhouse? The old motorbike shop with the new owners?’ E.D. nodded, but didn’t say anything. Angus pressed on. ‘Yeah, well I was down there this afternoon, having a bit of a look and these two guys on motorbikes suddenly appeared.’
‘Listen, Angus. I think I’ll head back to the hospital.’
‘Can’t I just finish my story?’ There was hurt in Angus’ voice.
‘Yeah, of course. Sorry.’ E.D. sat down on a patch of grass, and leaned back against the fence. Angus placed the food and drinks down in front of him and joined his friend.
‘Well, I’m just sort of minding my own business in this lane that runs alongside the shop, when these two guys all dressed in black appear on their motorbikes and start threatening me.’
E.D. turned to look at Angus. ‘Threatening you?’
‘Yeah. I reckon they didn’t like me hanging around there. Did you know that the guy who owns the place is also Teagan and Jack’s father?’
E.D. absently took a piece of chicken and started eating. ‘Teagan and Jack Proctor? As in the two kids who keep winning everything down at the track? If their dad owns a bike store, it sort of makes sense that they both know how to ride bikes so well.’
Angus nodded. He quickly told E.D. about the conversation he’d overheard. ‘So it doesn’t look like Teagan is allowed to race.’
‘Hey.’ E.D. sat up. ‘They ride those lime-green bikes, don’t they?’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Angus replied, eyeing his friend.
‘Well, Tony didn’t have his accident until that kid joined our practice run at The Moon.’ E.D. got to his feet.
‘And it was a lime-green bike that spooked King a few days ago.’ For a moment neither boy spoke. Angus pushed the cardboard box full of chicken and chips towards E.D., who appeared to have suddenly decided something.
‘Come on,’ E.D. said, jumping to his feet again, the box of food in his hand.
‘What?’ Angus had just got comfortable.
‘What I need is some action, something to do. I can’t stand all this sitting around. I hate hospitals, Angus.’
‘Yeah, well—’
‘They’re creepy, quiet, smelly—’
‘Smelly?’ They had arrived back at the front porch. The others looked up from their food.
‘Clean smelly. Sterile smelly. Bad smelly, Angus.’
‘What’s he carrying on about?’ Mario pointed a drumstick at his younger brother.
‘Mario, can you drive us into town?’ E.D. asked. Mario looked at Angus, eyebrows raised. Angus shrugged.
‘It’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?’
‘Mario, since when has the time of day ever been an issue for you?’
Mario held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘Hey, take it easy. Angus, you going with him?’
‘I guess I have to,’ Angus said.
Fifteen minutes later the three boys were cruising slowly along Havelin Road.
‘Why are you going this way?’ E.D. had sparked up.
‘Just thought I’d see if anyone was around,’ Mario replied. They all turned to look at The Moon, but the track appeared deserted.
‘Hold up!’ E.D. said. ‘We’ll get out here and walk into town.’
‘That’s a 20-minute walk,’ Angus groaned. But E.D. had made up his mind.
‘Ring me if you need anything,’ Mario said quietly to Angus. ‘Emilio, Ma will want you home by nine, you hear?’
‘I hear,’ E.D. said, setting off at a brisk pace towards the small shed near the front edge of the track. Angus watched the car disappear then turned and ran after E.D.
‘E.D., I thought we were going into town to check out Proctor’s.’
‘So did I,’ E.D. replied, not breaking stride.
‘What changed your mind?’ Angus was struggling to keep up with him. Then E.D. stopped, holding up a hand. The sound of a motorbike droned in the distance.
‘That,’ E.D. said, walking in the direction of the sound. ‘I’ve seen two big guys on road bikes up at Croft’s Cement before. I’ve got a feeling they might be the same guys that you saw in the laneway by Proctor’s.’
‘If they’re the same guys, then we probably don’t want to be heading in this direction,’ Angus said, stopping suddenly. E.D. strode on. ‘I mean it, E.D. They weren’t just a couple of 16 year olds spoiling for an argument.’ E.D. made no indication that he’d even heard Angus. ‘E.D.!’ Finally E.D. stopped and turned around.
‘Don’t worry, Angus. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I’ve been meaning to check out Croft’s properly for ages. And I can’t just keep sitting around waiting for Tony to wake up. We’re going to check out the Graveyard.’
‘The Graveyard?’ Angus still wasn’t feeling comfortable about the direction they were heading in. ‘That’s what you were talking about with Tony.’
‘Yeah. It’s a course that some guys made up ages ago when Croft’s first closed.’
‘What do you mean—course?’
‘Like an obstacle course for motorbikes. It’s up at Croft’s old cement yard. The hardest bit is the old railway tunnel where they used to cart sand and stuff for the cement—there’s something about it that’s really dangerous. Only a few people have tried to do it. The first guy went around in 15 minutes about 20 years ago but they say he nearly died doing it.’
‘How do you know all this stuff?’ Angus asked, momentarily forgetting where they were going. E.D. shrugged.
‘Hey, I’ve got two older brothers who ride bikes. They hear stuff. There aren’t many people who know about it; it’s an unofficial sort of track. And dangerous. Bit of a legend, really. There was a kid from out of town, not that long ago, tried the Graveyard and fell while he was riding through the tunnel.’
‘Was he okay?’
‘Nah. Ended up in hospital for months.’
‘You serious?’
‘That’s the rumour. No one’s tried it since.’
The sound of motorbikes met them as they climbed a small rise. The trees around them thinned out and they found themselves walking over stony ground alongside a railway line, which was soon joined by two other lines.
‘Those bikes aren’t anywhere near here,’ Angus said.
E.D. didn’t hear him. He was crossing the main road and heading towards a giant opening where trucks and trains had obviously collected their loads.
‘E.D., wait up!’ Angus called, running after him. He paused beside his friend. ‘I didn’t think this place was used anymore.’
‘It’s not,’ E.D. said, moving towards an old railway truck.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Listen, about a week ago Tony and Mario had this massive argument. I didn’t catch it all, but Croft’s Cement was mentioned. I think Tony’s in trouble and I think it’s got something to do with this place. Maybe he’s seen something he shouldn’t have.’
Angus thought back to his encounter in the lane earlier on. ‘You mean, something to do with those two big blokes? You reckon something’s going on? You don’t think that’s stretching it a bit?’
E.D. shook his head impatiently. ‘I don’t know, but Tony goes and has this accident and I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t an accident.’
‘What did you hear Tony say?’ Angus asked. E.D.
had climbed onto the side of the wagon and was peering in through a small opening in the top. He pulled his head out and looked gravely at Angus.
‘He said, “They’re going to kill me at Croft’s and bury me in the Graveyard”.’
Angus shuddered. He’d never seen E.D. look so serious.
‘Who’s going to kill him?’ Angus asked finally.
‘I dunno. That’s all I heard.’
‘But why didn’t you ask him? Or Mario?’
‘Because I wasn’t meant to be listening and—’ E.D. paused. He’d bumped into a pile of boxes.
‘And?’
E.D. looked up. ‘And I can work it out for myself. I can get things fixed, get things done.’ Angus heard him whistle softly.
‘What?’ Angus stood up on the iron ledge that ran the length of one side of the truck and peered in. E.D. had climbed inside and was bending over a stack of cardboard and plastic. ‘What is it?’
‘Check this out,’ E.D. said, lifting up a small metal box. ‘Someone’s left this behind—it was underneath all that rubbish.’
‘E.D., I don’t like it. Let’s get out of here.’ Angus looked behind him, but the enormous concrete space was deserted.
‘Geez, Angus,’ E.D. said, turning the object around in his hand. It was bound tightly in soft bubble wrap. ‘Maybe this is what Tony saw.’
Angus spun round, thinking he’d heard a noise. ‘I’m getting the creeps hanging around here. Why don’t we just go tell Mario or my dad or something? Get them to investigate.’
‘Hey, where’s your sense of adventure, Angus? This is cool. Relax, man.’ E.D.’s muffled voice echoed from the interior of the car. It was the first time he had spoken with any degree of enthusiasm since Angus had arrived at his house a few hours ago.
‘Let’s have a look then,’ Angus said. E.D. passed up the tiny box. ‘It looks like a GPS.’ Angus turned the package over in his hands.
‘A what?’ E.D. searched the mess of cardboard again.
‘A GPS. Global Positioning System. One of Dad’s friends was showing me his down at the race club last year. If it’s what I think it is, it reads maps and talks to you and tells you where you are.’