Taking the Chequered Flag

by Pam Harvey

  ‘He doesn’t know what’s in there,’ said Teagan. She ran towards the tunnel and then stopped to yell. ‘E.D.! No!’

  ‘Too late,’ said Hannah. ‘What is in there? Is it terrible? He’ll probably kill himself.’ Teagan didn’t answer. Her face was ashen. Hannah ran her hand through her hair and her fingers snagged on something. ‘Teagan, I’ve got this.’ Hannah pulled off the ear-piece that was caught on her hair.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Teagan said softly. ‘This will still be tuned in to mine on my helmet. I hope he hasn’t gone far!’ She spoke into the ear-piece. ‘E.D., can you hear me?’ She waited for a reply but heard nothing.

  E.D. had halted about 50 metres into the tunnel. He suddenly wasn’t sure that this was a good idea. He’d had to make his way past a series of abandoned railway trucks and now there was something on the ground blocking his way, some sort of raised platform. It was hard to see in the dim light and he wished for once that motocross bikes had headlights. He pushed the bike over the lump and felt it collapse under the weight of the front tyre.

  There was an ominous rumble behind him. E.D. looked back. He could just make out that the first of the railway trucks was moving, very slowly but picking up speed, down the track towards him. He adjusted his helmet and headed off again, keen to get away from what he’d set in motion.

  Suddenly, there was a crackling sound near his right ear. He almost fell off the green motorbike in surprise when he heard Teagan’s small voice in his ear. ‘E.D.! You have to stop!’

  ‘Teagan?’ he said, glancing ahead into the dimness.

  ‘Oh, thank God. Don’t, whatever you do, push the flap down. Your front wheel will hit it. Do you hear me? If the flap goes down, the railway truck moves.’

  Over the sound of the motorbike, the rumbling behind him grew louder.

  ‘I think I’ve done something stupid.’

  ‘It’s too late, then. You’ve triggered the cable that pulls the trucks forward. You’ll have to keep going forward! The ground drops away.’

  ‘You mean, the tunnel goes downhill?’ E.D. gulped. ‘Now I know I’ve done something really stupid.’ He looked around.

  ‘Oh no,’ he groaned, revving the bike and accelerating quickly. The cement truck was slowly rumbling along the train tracks towards him. Realising that there was no room for him to squeeze up against the wall of the tunnel and let it pass, E.D. gunned the accelerator and sped off into the darkness, leaving the slow moving truck in his wake. Then suddenly the tunnel fell away in a steep decline. E.D. groaned again.

  ‘E.D.?’ Teagan’s voice was coming through loud and clear.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have you reached the downhill bit yet?’

  ‘I’m there now,’ E.D. grunted, not daring to look back. ‘How do I get out of this place?’

  ‘You can’t. Keep going.’

  E.D. tried to control the feeling of panic spreading through him. He moved the bike into third gear, then fourth, accelerating further into the gloom.

  ‘Isn’t there a side room or something?’ E.D. cried, his voice shrill. The bike was now hurtling down the concrete tunnel. Behind him, the railway truck gathered speed.

  ‘When the tunnel flattens out you’ll come to a split,’ Teagan said, trying to sound calm. ‘The tunnel divides. Take the left side, okay?’

  ‘The left side,’ E.D. repeated, peering ahead. Over the noise of the bike, E.D. could hear the thundering clatter of the wagon, steadily gaining pace. He wanted to go faster but he was afraid of losing his balance riding over the rough concrete floor. And if he came off the bike…

  The tunnel was levelling out. He looked up. He had a vague impression of a dark shadow to the right. Sensing that he was approaching the split, he slowed slightly, angling the bike to the left. The train track beneath his wheels continued.

  What if Teagan was wrong? What if she was lying?

  ‘I’ve gone left,’ he yelled. Behind him there was a thunderous clatter of wheels on rail as the truck careered to the right. E.D. eased up, wiping one sticky hand and then the other on his shirt.

  ‘What now?’ he called into his microphone.

  ‘Keep going.’

  E.D. moved forward. ‘That’s got to have been the tricky part.’ Suddenly an enormous crashing sound echoed through the tunnel.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Teagan said through the microphone.

  ‘I think the truck just reached the end of the line.’ E.D. shuddered. ‘Don’t worry, your bike’s fine. Okay, so what now?’ E.D waited for Teagan to reply. ‘Hello?’ He took off his helmet and tapped the tiny microphone. ‘Hey, is anyone there?’ His voice echoed down the tunnel. And then there was silence.

  ‘I can’t hear him.’ Teagan frowned, taking off the ear-piece and looking at it. ‘He’s gone past the place where I fell. Maybe he’ll be okay now.’ The tiny display had turned a deep red colour. ‘Oh no! The batteries are going.’

  ‘You fell in front of that truck?’ Angus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘And you survived?’

  Teagan just looked at him. ‘I lost control going to the left. That’s when I hurt myself. Luckily for me the truck went the other way. It’s the secret we’re not supposed to tell anyone. Ever.’

  ‘What sort of place is this?’ Hannah said. ‘Runaway railway trucks?’

  ‘It’s how they got the trucks down to the cement sand. I guess they didn’t expect motorbikes to be in the tunnel as well.’ Teagan tried the ear-piece again. ‘E.D.?’

  Silence.

  ‘Keep talking to him. He might be able to hear you even if you can’t hear him.’ Angus looked out of the tunnel. Hurry up, Gabby, he thought. Run fast.

  Chapter 15

  Onto the Belt

  Monday, 17 January

  Gabby wasn’t running. Peter and his gang, Jack included, had climbed into their truck. Jack even waved goodbye to her like the creep he was. ‘It’ll take you half an hour to run into town,’ he yelled at her. ‘I’d get going if I was you.’ The truck drove away, covering Gabby in dust.

  Gabby was a fast runner; there was no doubt about that. She won her sprint races in all the school sports and usually came in the top third of the cross country ones. But fast as she was, a motorbike was faster.

  Jack had left his motorbike behind, cleverly hidden in the run-down office. Gabby had watched him do it. She’d even seen where his helmet was. She slipped it on and ran through Mario’s instructions out loud. ‘Bike in neutral, punch the kick starter. Click down to first gear. Ease the clutch out and—’ The bike glided away smoothly. Gabby grinned, put it into second, and rode away.

  E.D. slowly and carefully manoeuvred the bike along the narrow tunnel a further 30 metres before coming to a set of iron grilled doors. He stopped the bike, got off and walked over to the wall. He had come to a lift. Light seeped in from a tiny window way above him and E.D. could make out a small button on the wall to the left of the doors. An old metal plate with the word UP was stuck beneath it. A rusted metal board with the words Ground Level was stuck just above the button.

  ‘So this will get me back up to the ground,’ E.D. whispered. Without a moment’s hesitation, he pressed the button. For a moment nothing happened, then he heard a clattering sound from above. A lift was slowly making its way down. It growled and squeaked, the sound gradually getting louder as the lift got closer. Finally, after about 30 seconds, the noise stopped.

  E.D. stepped forward and tentatively opened the grilled doors. There was another wiry door behind. He drew that one back and walked his bike into the space. It stank of petrol and urine. There was just enough room for him and the bike.

  He closed both sets of doors, said a silent prayer then pressed the only button inside the cubicle. The lift jerked violently and slowly began climbing.

  E.D. closed his eyes, desperately hoping that when it finally came to a halt, he’d walk out at ground level into sunshine.

  His bumpy ride continued for a full minute before the lift finally banged to a halt. Tak
ing a deep breath, E.D. slowly opened the screen door and then the heavier door behind it.

  A blast of wind greeted him.

  He wasn’t at ground level; he was 50 metres above ground level and staring down an enormous but narrow conveyor belt that wound its way slowly to the ground.

  ‘The Graveyard,’ E.D. whispered, taking a tentative step back into the lift. And then it struck him. There was only one button in the lift—an UP button. A cold fear surged through him. ‘Now what?’ He took off the helmet again and reached in to fiddle with the receiver.

  ‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Teagan, are you there?’ Desperately, E.D. scoured the walls of the lift for some sort of lever or button that would make the lift move downwards; but there was nothing.

  He could have kicked himself. Why had he so readily jumped into the lift and pressed the button? Why didn’t he just stop and wait at the bottom for someone to rescue him? Or walk back up the way he’d come to the opening?

  ‘Because then I wouldn’t have done the Graveyard,’ E.D. said softly, looking at his watch. He’d been in there just over nine minutes.

  Taking a deep breath, E.D. slowly wheeled the bike out onto a metal ramp. He peered over the edge to the ground below. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, gripping the bike tightly. He edged a little further along the ramp. E.D. looked down at his feet, trying to avoid the space around him.

  He took another deep breath and grimaced.

  ‘The Graveyard,’ he said, trying to make his voice sound confident. He placed the helmet back on his head, got on the bike then carefully moved it to the edge of the ramp. ‘You can do this, E.D.,’ he whispered, gently revving the engine.

  He pushed the bike over the edge of the ramp and onto the belt. ‘Steady,’ he hissed, as the front tyre moved onto the broken conveyor. He was riding on a flat, even, rubbery surface; gritty and dry from the summer heat and about half a metre wide. It was wide enough for the wheels of a bike, but not wide enough for him to walk the bike down the ramp.

  E.D. stared ahead grimly, desperately trying to avoid even a passing glance at the drop on either side of him. He could feel the belt give as he made his way carefully down the incline.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on the front wheel, E.D. focused on the black rubber belt immediately in front of him. A gust of wind suddenly buffeted him slightly. The front wheel wobbled and E.D. could feel the back wheel slipping.

  Instinctively he turned the handlebars slightly to the right then jolted them back. For a horrible moment E.D. thought the back wheel was going to topple off the edge, but it hung on. E.D quickly got the bike aligned again. His knuckles were white and his stomach ached from the tight knot that was twisting his gut.

  I’m going too slow, E.D. thought to himself, feeling the breeze pushing him in the side. Carefully he increased his speed, holding the bike steady and hardly daring to breathe.

  E.D. concentrated as hard as he’d ever done in his life. Metre by metre he guided the motorbike gingerly down the gently curving conveyor belt. At last it levelled off. He reached the end, finally daring to tear his eyes from the front of the bike, as his arm reached out to grab onto a metal pole attached to the frame that carried the belt. Trying to stop his legs from shaking, he got off the bike, leaned it against the pole and jumped to the ground. He looked back up to where he’d started his journey and almost collapsed in shock.

  ‘Geez, was I up there?’ he gasped. ‘Unbelievable.’

  Teagan was talking desperately into the flat communication device. ‘E.D., can you hear me?’

  ‘Listen, someone’s out there,’ squealed Hannah, pressing her ear to the heavy door. She took a step back suddenly as it shuddered and began lifting.

  There was a grating noise as the wall in front of them slowly rose upwards. E.D. appeared, sitting on Teagan’s lime-green bike at the opening. ‘What was that?’ he asked, fiddling with the ear-piece, and grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Oh my God, you made it!’ Teagan cried. Angus followed the two girls out into the large cavern.

  The sound of police sirens made them run back to the main opening and out to the roadside. Police cars roared past, following a trail known only to them.

  Angus looked around. ‘That’s got them. But where’s Gabby?’

  They still didn’t know where she was when a lime-green motorbike came slowly into the yard and parked. And even when its rider dismounted, Angus was scanning the yard for Gabby. Only when the rider took off her helmet, letting her blonde hair fall over her shoulders, did Angus take another look.

  ‘Have the police come? I called them.’ Gabby noticed Angus staring at her. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said cheekily. ‘Do you think Teagan’s the only girl around here who can ride a motorbike?’

  Angus didn’t know what to say so he said nothing at all.

  Chapter 16

  Race to the Finish

  Saturday, 22 January

  ‘This has to be the noisiest motorbike race day I’ve ever been to.’ Gabby covered her ears with her hands.

  ‘That’s because it’s the most exciting you’ve ever been to,’ said Hannah, pulling her friend’s hands away. ‘E.D.’s race is coming up soon. You want to hear that, I suppose.’

  ‘It’ll be strange without Teagan and Jack around,’ said Angus.

  ‘Well, better get used to it,’ said Hannah. ‘Now that Mr Proctor has withdrawn them—or should I say, Jack—from racing, there’ll be a whole new list of winners. Maybe even E.D.’

  ‘Do you think we should have told the officials about Teagan’s substitution? Jack’s won a heap of races in her name.’ Gabby fiddled with her camcorder, getting the focus ready.

  ‘I think that’s up to the Proctors. I wouldn’t be surprised if Teagan tells.’ Hannah took the recorder from Gabby and took the lens cap off before handing it back.

  ‘It won’t be Jack. He got away with being Peter’s helper—so he’ll think he’s got away with this, too.’

  ‘We don’t know for sure that he caused Tony’s accident,’ said Angus. ‘Tony doesn’t seem to think so. He reckons he just lost control of his bike. Nothing to do with Jack.’

  ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, that Mr Proctor didn’t know anything about the smuggling,’ said Gabby. ‘I bet he checks those crates out better next time he gets one.’

  ‘The GPS systems were in a false floor. Teagan told me.’ Angus caught Hannah’s eye and turned away.

  ‘Talking to Teagan again, eh?’ Hannah teased.

  ‘She came to see King,’ Angus said, still not looking at Hannah. ‘I told her he was slowly getting better. The vet said I’ll be able to start riding him next month.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Gabby. ‘Hey, I think they’re lining up.’

  Angus stood up to get a better view. The line of 12 bikes was difficult to see through the dust, but he knew which one was E.D. ‘Check it out,’ he said to the girls.

  ‘I can’t see E.D.,’ said Gabby, frowning.

  Angus smiled. ‘Look harder. Next to the red bike.’

  ‘That can’t be E.D.,’ said Hannah. ‘That’s a blue bike. A new blue bike. E.D. hasn’t got a new blue motorbike.’

  ‘He hasn’t,’ Angus agreed, ‘but Tony has.’

  ‘E.D. is riding Tony’s bike?’ Gabby’s voice was shrill. ‘I hope he asked Tony.’

  E.D. hadn’t asked Tony; Tony had asked him.

  ‘Ride my bike for me, Emilio.’

  ‘In your dreams, Tony.’

  ‘No, I mean it. I won’t be riding it for a while. You’re a good rider—a natural. Better than I’ll ever be. I want you to ride it. For me.’

  E.D. remembered Tony’s words as he sat at the starter’s line. He grinned to himself. Tony was walking better on his crutches and his leg was starting to look more like a leg and less like a chunk of bruised meat. And he had really wanted E.D. to ride his bike.

  So do I, thought E.D.

  The starter signalled go and the roar of 12 bikes filled the grounds.

  ‘Look!’ sai
d Gabby.

  ‘What?’ said Hannah.

  ‘Who is it?’ yelled Angus.

  A lime-green bike had shot out of nowhere, joining the 12 other bikes racing around the course. Officials were going mad, chasing after the bike with fists raised in the air. None of the other riders seemed to notice. They kept going and soon the new bike was in the middle, away from any officials.

  ‘They’ll have to stop the race,’ said Gabby.

  ‘No, I don’t think they will,’ said Angus. ‘They aren’t signalling. It looks like they’ve decided to keep the race going and deal with it later.’

  Now they were watching two bikes—a new blue one and the lime-green one—edging to the front.

  E.D. was in the front group as they hit the first corner and took it easily. He’d been practising—boy, had he been practising—and Tony’s bike was big but a lot easier to handle than his own patched one.

  He stayed at the back of the first group for the first lap. Somewhere after the first berm of the second lap, a flashy red and yellow bike swept past. E.D. couldn’t help himself. He went to the inside of the gleaming bike, took a risk and accelerated through. The red and yellow machine was left behind.

  It was easy after that—except for that lime-green bike. It was able to maintain its break on E.D. through almost the entire race. Every time he thought he had a passing line, the green bike managed to find an extra burst of speed, holding off E.D. There was nothing illegal about its movements; it was simply great tactical riding.

  Angus was watching the battle closely from his position high up in the stands.

  ‘What does the kid on the green bike think he’s doing? Just because he wasn’t allowed to race.’ He stopped suddenly as E.D. raced low into a tight corner. ‘He’s going to fall!’ Angus shouted, standing up and watching. But E.D. somehow managed to keep the bike balanced as he careered around the inside of the berm, before streaking past the green bike. ‘Woo hoo!’ he yelled, raising his fists in the air.