September

by Gabrielle Lord

  ‘Except that on the reverse side of the Ormond Jewel there’s an extra bud. Apart from that, it looks identical. Maybe there was a pair of them. It’s pretty exciting! Anyway,’ Winter said, looking at the clock, ‘want some help collecting Oriana’s fingerprint?’

  We tracked Oriana down in a café I’d come to learn was one of her regular haunts. We were looking through the window of a surf shop outside, when Oriana suddenly emerged from the café and headed down the street away from us.

  ‘Mind the bike?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep, go after her!’

  I’d considered dashing into the café and grabbing the cup she’d been drinking from, but dropped the idea. I had to be sure that I’d get a good fingerprint of her right index finger.

  Oriana stepped into a fashion boutique around the corner and I pulled up, watching her through the display of handbags and shoes in the front window. She was wandering around inside, picking up handbags, examining them, and putting them down again. This was my chance.

  I walked into the shop, hands in my pockets, trying to go unnoticed. Luckily the sales assistant had focused all of her attention on Oriana. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oriana pick up a brown patent leather bag. She gave it a good squeeze while she was opening it, and again when snapping the clasp shut. Perfect, I thought. On the side of that shiny, brown patent leather, there would be a nice fat fingerprint.

  The assistant, who’d been hovering around Oriana, pointed out a silver handbag high on a shelf in the corner. The pair moved away, giving me a clear run.

  I had my target. With a swift move, and careful not to touch the side of the brown handbag, I snatched it up and bolted from the shop.

  As soon as I ran through the security stands that covered the doorway, the alarm started going off.

  I leaped out into the street.

  ‘It’s the Psycho Kid,’ someone shouted.

  I could hear the shopkeeper and Oriana de la Force screaming after me as I raced around the corner and saw Winter jump to her feet.

  ‘Don’t touch the side of this!’ I yelled, tossing her the patent leather bag. ‘It has the print on it—quick! I’m being chased!’

  Winter caught it by the handles.

  I threw my leg over the bike, preparing to cycle away like crazy, when I looked back and saw Winter’s eyes widen with fear.

  ‘Behind you!’ she shouted.

  But it was too late. Just as I was taking off, someone crash-tackled me from behind and I fell heavily to the ground.

  When the red and black tiles came into focus through my aching eyes, I realised with a sick feeling that I was in big trouble.

  As my brain groped its way to consciousness, a voice floated around my head.

  ‘This little grub has been nothing but trouble. Why is he still here?’ Oriana’s voice screeched. ‘There are little more than three months left and I can’t make head or tail of what we have so far! The cryptographer is costing me a fortune and he’s not getting anywhere! And we still have this,’ she said, kicking my foot, ‘getting in our way! How hard is it to get rid of a boy?’

  I kept still on the floor, wildly trying to think of a way out of my situation. But when I went to move, I realised my hands and feet were tied.

  Tied up, two times in one month …

  Suddenly, I was seized around the neck and dragged to my feet. Oriana had wrapped her leopard-print scarf around my throat and was pulling it tight.

  ‘You’re choking me!’ I croaked, struggling to free my airways.

  ‘That’s the idea!’ Oriana screamed, jerking on the scarf harder. I gasped for air. Her furious face was almost the same colour as her hair and she sprayed me with spit as she screamed. ‘Here, Kelvin,’ she said, releasing me. I fell forward, coughing and spluttering, sucking down air. ‘Pat it down. Make sure it’s clean.’

  She was calling me ‘it’!

  ‘I’m going to get rid of you once and for all,’ she said, picking me up again after Kelvin had checked me over. She gripped me by my hoodie. ‘You’re going to go somewhere you’ll never, ever return from! You’ve cost me a fortune! Your interference is finally over—for good!’

  With that, she slapped me across the face. I was shaking with fear and my head throbbed even worse. I could barely stand because of the way my feet were tied. ‘My friends know where I am,’ I bluffed, wondering why she wouldn’t just finish the job right then—kill me and be done with it. ‘You won’t get away with this,’ I threatened.

  ‘Oh, I am so scared!’ she squealed sarcastically, and then turned on Kelvin.

  ‘You’re dumping him in Dingo Bones Valley. Where you disposed of that other bag of … bag of waste.’

  ‘Dingo Bones Valley? Do I have to? Boss, that’s—’ Kelvin started to say.

  Oriana swung around and slapped him. ‘That’s exactly where you’re dumping him! I don’t want to hear any complaints! You’re paid to do what I tell you!’

  ‘But boss, how’s he expected to—’

  ‘Expected to what?’ she snarled. ‘Expected to nothing! He’s going to be dead when you dump him—well and truly dead—do you hear me? Can you get that through your thick skull?’

  ‘You can’t do that!’ I said. ‘You have everything you want! You’ve stolen the Jewel and the Riddle. You have my dad’s drawings! What else do you want?’

  She shoved me towards Kelvin, ignoring my pleas entirely.

  ‘And you’d better be more efficient than those two hopeless fools you hired to do the swap with the little girl,’ she said to Kelvin. ‘I don’t want anything like that happening again. If you mess up this time, I’ll throttle your other cat. Got it?’

  Kelvin muttered something.

  ‘Cyril?’ Oriana called out the door of the study.

  Next thing I knew, I was being dragged down the stairs by Kelvin and Sumo and out the back of the house where another car, a light grey sedan, was parked beside Oriana’s dark blue Mercedes. Sumo opened the boot of the grey car, picked me up with one hand, and shoved me into it. The lid slammed shut and I was thrown into darkness with a sick sense of déjà vu.

  ‘Let me out of here!’ I screamed and thrashed. ‘You can’t do this!’

  ‘What are you going to do, buster? Call the cops?’ hissed Sumo’s voice.

  I lurched sideways in the darkness of the boot as the car started, swung around and took off.

  This was the end of the line for me. Dingo Bones Valley was way out in the desert. It was notorious. People said that it got so hot out there, that birds dropped dead out of the sky. It was the sort of area where people were found dead lying near their cars, because they’d broken down and run out of water. Or they’d be found, kilometres away, dead on the track, where they’d collapsed in their useless search for water. Sometimes it was weeks before another car came by. I would never be found. Maybe in years to come, someone—a prospector—might stumble upon my rotted corpse.

  In the suffocating heat of the boot, I bumped along, my arms and legs aching from the unnatural position that I was tied in. I blinked in and out of consciousness—barely able to breathe.

  Long hours passed and I started to get cold. As hot as the desert was during the day, it was just as dangerously cold at night. Although the boot ride was horrible, I was begging for it not to end. I didn’t want to have to face what was going to greet me outside once we stopped. But, inevitably, the car stopped.

  I tried to think, to plan a possible escape. But what could I do? Without the use of my hands and legs, escape was impossible.

  A sudden rush of cold air hit me as the boot was opened. Kelvin loomed over me but I couldn’t see his expression in the darkness.

  ‘Just leave me here, Kelvin,’ I begged, as he hauled me out. He was alone. ‘Please. You don’t have to kill me. She’ll never know.’

  His silence was frightening as he threw me on the rough ground. I was barely aware of my surroundings. Ahead of me, I thought I could see a ridge, and above it the starry night sky.


  ‘Just get in the car and drive away,’ I said. ‘You’ve done what she told you to do. You don’t want my death on your conscience, do you? Kelvin, don’t you remember? I saved you when those guys were beating you up outside the casino that night. You can’t kill me.’

  ‘I don’t owe you anything,’ Kelvin muttered.

  ‘I’m not saying you do. But Kelvin, she’s a horrible woman. She killed your cat? Why do you keep carrying out her dirty work? I heard the way she talks to you. You deserve better than that, Kelvin.’

  He gave me an intense look but said nothing. The night air was cold, but sweat was dripping down his brow like he’d just run a marathon.

  ‘Surely you’d like to be free of her,’ I said. ‘Work for someone who has some respect for you?’

  ‘I know something that she doesn’t know I know, and I could—’ he started to say.

  ‘What?’ I asked, stalling for time. ‘What do you know about her? What could you do?’

  ‘Shut up!’ he demanded, his voice hardening again. Something like fire blazed across his eyes. He reached into the car and pulled out a gun.

  ‘Don’t do it!’ I pleaded.

  ‘I told you to shut up!’ he said, aiming the gun at my head. ‘Can’t you get that through your thick skull?’

  I knelt on the ground with the desert sounds rustling around me, and waited for the end. I said goodbye to my mum and Gabbi, and Boges and Winter.

  The sound of the shot rang out.

  93 days to go …

  Blazing heat. Pain. Aching wrists and legs. Thirst. Thirst.

  Slowly, I tried to open my eyes. They seemed to be stuck together. I could barely swallow, my mouth was so dry. I was lying face down in the red dust of Dingo Bones Valley. But I was alive.

  I spat red dust out of my mouth and rolled over. The blazing sun beat down on me. I tried to sit up and rolled over onto my belly again, away from the light. My eyes ached. They were dry and filled with grit. Scared at what I might find, I slowly put my hand to the right side of my head, where the shot had deafened me. I felt around gently. But there were no wounds, no blood. Then I noticed, in the red dust, a long straight track made by something small and moving fantastically fast. Was that the bullet track?

  The shot must have been deflected in some way. Because I seemed to be OK. OK, considering I’d been dumped in the middle of Dingo Bones Valley, tied hand and foot.

  What? My hands and feet were free! I crawled to my feet and saw the ropes lying beside me-they looked like they’d been cut through with a knife.

  Somebody had freed me. But who? Kelvin?

  I looked around in the shrill, desert air. Not a soul in sight. No living thing at all. Just the red dust stretching out in every direction, broken here and there by clumps of dried, white grass.

  Without food and water, I was as good as dead. I looked around for shelter, but there was nothing. No shade, nothing. I lay back, defeated.

  As I squinted towards the sky, I saw two eagles circling. Were they waiting for me to become weak enough for their attack? I could die lying down, or I could die on my feet, trying to find my way out. The choice was mine.

  I climbed to my feet and started walking.

  I realised that there was, in fact, a road. But it was almost impossible to see, because the road looked much the same as everywhere else—red and dusty. I knew that if I was ever going to be found, or if I was ever going to find anyone, I had better stick to this road.

  Every slow footstep was painful, every breath scraped through my dry throat. My tongue felt like an old boot and my lips were cracked and parched, splitting painfully at the edges. I pulled my hoodie over my face in an effort to keep out the scorching sun.

  I’d been walking for hours. My mouth was getting drier and drier, but I forced myself to keep moving.

  The landscape never changed. It was nothing but endless red dust, millions of microscopic crystals twinkling under the searing sun, with the occasional tuft of bleached grass. From time to time, I saw bones. Nothing lived here except the eagles and the crows. Even the dingoes had more sense to go elsewhere.

  My feet were swelling up and I could feel blisters on the back of my heels.

  My socks were slipping. I sat down and undid my sneakers, pulling them off. As I removed the sock from my left foot, I leaned forward, puzzled. There was something black on my ankle. I tried to focus my dry, bleary eyes. There was something written there.

  Letters? Numbers? I couldn’t focus my eyes.

  What? Did Oriana de la Force catalogue and number all her victims like this? Who had written this on me? It looked like black ink. I looked at my sock. There was nothing on that except red dust. Nothing had rubbed off. I didn’t have enough spit to try wetting it. But it seemed that someone had written these letters and numbers in permanent ink on my skin.

  I pulled my socks and shoes back on and kept going.

  Before long I heard some kind of noise. At first I thought it was just the roaring in my head. My heart was pumping hard and I imagined my blood turning into toffee as I dehydrated. How long could I go on like this? But the sound persisted. I stopped my dragging footsteps and listened.

  It was the sound of an engine! I stared into the west, trying to make out something in the distance, blinded by the sun glaring straight into my eyes.

  It was the sound of a car! In the distance I could see a puff of red dust near the horizon. It was a vehicle, and it was coming my way!

  I staggered out into its path, waving my arms like a madman.

  ‘Hey! Stop! Over here! Stop!’ These were the words I tried to say, but they sounded more like the squawking of a crow.

  I tore off my hoodie and tried to wave it.

  The vehicle approached me in a cloud of dust.

  It was an old ute with a canvas water bag hanging off the bumper bar. I couldn’t take my eyes off the water bag. As it approached, I limped and staggered towards it, waving my dusty hands. I hoped I wouldn’t frighten whoever was driving. The truck slowed and finally stopped a few metres away from me. I lurched and stumbled closer.

  ‘Water,’ I croaked. ‘I need water.’

  Slowly, the passenger door opened. I tried to look through the dusty windscreen, but could barely see into the interior of the cabin, although I could make out the head and shoulders of the driver.

  I walked around to the passenger side door and peered in. A dusty, wizened man was staring back at me, a battered hat pulled over his sunburnt features, his hands like claws on the steering wheel.

  ‘There’s a bottle of water there, sonny,’ he said. ‘Hop in and help yourself.’

  I didn’t need a second invitation. I hauled myself into the filthy cabin of the ute, kicking rubbish away, until I finally fell back exhausted on the seat, grabbing the bottle of water that the driver indicated. I ripped the top off and emptied a litre of water into me in about two seconds flat.

  ‘You sure was thirsty, sonny,’ cackled the driver, revealing yellow, broken teeth. But to me, just then, the old guy was about the most beautiful thing in the world. ‘You here on holiday?’

  I looked at him. Was he serious? Who’d come to this barren desert for a holiday?

  He threw his head back in a screech of laughter.

  ‘If you want more water, there’s a water bag hanging off the front of the vehicle.’

  ‘I need to make a phone call,’ I said. Miraculously I still had my phone on me, but it had no signal whatsoever. Plus the battery was about to die.

  ‘Where are you heading?’ The driver asked as the truck lurched off again.

  ‘To wherever you’re going,’ I said. ‘Somewhere I can get a feed and maybe a place to rest. After I’ve called my friends in the city.’

  ‘The name’s Stanley. But everyone calls me Snake.’

  ‘Tom,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve been prospecting,’ said Snake, ‘looking for sapphires. There used to be gold but now there’s no water to wash it in anyway so we go after sapphires instead, my par
tner and me. What’s that tattoo on your ankle mean?’

  He didn’t miss much, I thought, noticing that my sock had slipped down.

  ‘Just some numbers I want to remember,’ I said.

  ‘A phone number? In case you get lost?’ The old prospector asked before cackling with laughter.

  I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. I was so relieved that I’d been picked up, but this guy’s laugh had a nasty edge to it.

  ‘You’re very lucky I came along when I did,’ he said, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Lucky for me, too. Otherwise, you’d have gone to waste out there.’

  I flashed a look at him. That was an odd thing to say.

  ‘True,’ I agreed. ‘No-one could survive out there for very long.’

  ‘Now, ain’t that the truth,’ said the old prospector, showing his yellow teeth again as he grinned. ‘We were looking for Lasseter’s Reef when we first came out here. Me and my partner. That was years ago.’

  I wondered if Winter had escaped with the leather handbag OK, and whether the fingerprint had held up. I was impatient to call them. ‘When will we be there?’ I asked. ‘Wherever we’re going?’

  ‘Not far to go, now. In fact, if you look straight ahead you’ll see the township.’

  Sure enough, down the track, I could see the roofs and trees of the township. Soon I’d be able to hook up with my friends again. Oriana de la Force hadn’t won this round.

  As the old car rattled down the main street, I looked around, puzzled. Where was everybody? Maybe it was the shocking heat keeping everybody indoors. But when I looked at the shops that lined the dusty street, they seemed to be boarded up. After the shops, there was a scattering of houses but they too seemed deserted, with broken windows and vines growing out of the chimneys.

  ‘Is this some sort of ghost town?’ I asked Snake, who was hunched over the wheel, trying to avoid the worst of the potholes in the road.