Wreck

by Fleur Ferris

  We drive off and I feel shell-shocked. Everything is like a bad, disjointed dream. We stay silent for a long time.

  They’re dead.

  The words echo in my head. Was Darryl there too? Surely Zel would have told me. I want to ask but I feel numb inside, like I’m shutting off my grief until I’m safe and can deal with it.

  How could something found among rubbish be so valuable to someone that they would kill for it? And why would anyone kill Simon? Simon would have to be the least threatening person on this planet.

  The k’tonk, k’tonk, k’tonk sound of Maples Bridge interrupts my thoughts.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘You need to tell me about the note. Can you remember exactly what it said? It’s really important.’

  ‘Wasn’t it printed in the paper? I mean, isn’t that how you know about it?’

  ‘The article described the note and said it was signed by Christian Chisel, but there was no image.’

  I’d left the note with Darryl to make a copy. I wonder why he decided against publishing it. What happened to ‘truth without fear’?

  I kick myself. If only I had listened to him more closely when he was talking about the Chisels and that boating accident. He knew something wasn’t right.

  I look at Zel, unsure whether I should tell him about the note. I don’t know how to play this game … I don’t think he’s going to hurt me, but I don’t think he’s going to let me leave either. I decide to tell him exactly what the note said. ‘It was only four words. “I survived. Christian Chisel.”’

  ‘Was there anything else?’

  I think for a moment. ‘There was a symbol, kind of like a coat of arms.’

  He looks at me. I notice for the first time his eye is swollen and dark and I wonder if it was me who did that.

  ‘I’m sorry about your eye,’ I say, instantly regretting it. Now he might think I’m soft.

  ‘Can you remember what the coat of arms looked like?’

  ‘Yeah, it hadn’t faded like the writing had.’

  He waits for me to go on.

  ‘Umm … There were two lions. They had the same head, but one had legs and the other one had a mermaid tail.’

  ‘Rule on land, rule on sea,’ Zel mutters to himself.

  ‘The lions had crowns on their heads,’ I say, ‘as if being a lion wasn’t kingly enough.’

  This makes him smile.

  ‘There was something on the shield too. A cross. Like this.’ I bring my arms up to show him the cross resembled an ‘X’.

  ‘Two chisels,’ he says.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Okay …’ He says this as if he has just made a decision.

  ‘What does it mean?’ I ask.

  ‘It means I was right,’ he says.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The note – it’s not a hoax. It’s a genuine cry for help. That coat of arms was custom designed and hasn’t been used for years.’ He sighs. ‘I’m sorry you found it. There have been other messages, all in bottles, just like you described. But the people who found them have all mysteriously died or disappeared and the notes have vanished with them. The note can’t be fake if it had that coat of arms on it. That stationery doesn’t even exist anymore.’

  A lump forms in my throat and sits there.

  I have so many questions but I’m afraid to ask them. I need a moment to process everything that has happened so far. I need a moment to think …

  My fear builds again and is as engulfing as when I first arrived home to find someone in my house. How do I know Zel is telling the truth? How do I know he isn’t with them and I haven’t already ‘mysteriously disappeared’? And what about Simon? Was he collateral damage, murdered because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, or was he targeted because he had seen the note? My blood turns to ice.

  They’re dead and you’re not.

  They’re dead …

  ‘Is Darryl dead too?’ I ask.

  I brace myself for Zel’s answer. My tears well up but I blink them back. I close my eyes and try to breathe away the fear.

  Zel looks at me. ‘You must be terrified,’ he says, avoiding my question. ‘I’m so sorry you got mixed up in all of this.’

  ‘I don’t even know what I’m mixed up in,’ I say. I can’t stop the tears now. I wipe them away and turn my head towards the window.

  ‘I know,’ he says.

  ‘I wasn’t going to collect the rubbish from the rocks that day. I wish I hadn’t. I wish I hadn’t found it …’ I stop because I know how futile regret is. I did find the bottle and I did read the note. And now Simon is dead. And Darryl? The more I think about it the more I convince myself that he is dead too. If Simon was at the office, Darryl would have been with him.

  ‘I have to know,’ I say. ‘Please.’

  By the way Zel pauses and swallows I know the answer before he says it.

  ‘There was another person there. In what looked to be the director’s office. Would that be Darryl?’

  My chest tightens.

  ‘You said Darryl was Simon’s partner?’ Zel asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  He nods. ‘Darryl had a gun in his hand. I think it was supposed to look like a murder-suicide.’

  ‘What? No!’ My tears come again. ‘We have to go back. We have to call the police. Darryl would never do that. He wouldn’t even have a gun.’

  ‘Tamara, we can’t go back,’ Zel states. ‘You do know who we’re dealing with, don’t you? You know who the Chisels are?’

  ‘Of course I know who the Chisels are. I worked at the Coastal Daily – they own it … and just about every other paper in this country.’

  ‘They’re the most powerful family in Australia,’ he says, just in case I didn’t already know.

  ‘So why are they killing anyone who finds a note from this guy lost at sea? Isn’t he a member of their family? Wouldn’t they want to find him?’

  ‘Any normal person would think so,’ Zel says.

  I sense a deeper meaning beneath his words. ‘Who are you? How do you know about all of this?’

  ‘It’s personal. I’m investigating privately.’

  I look him over. He appears too young to be a private investigator. Aren’t PIs old, burnt-out cops? My self-defence instructor said that if I was ever abducted I had to keep my cool and look at the little details, because it’s the little details that help solve cases. I realise I haven’t taken note of a single detail about this guy yet. It’s dark in the car, but his face is lit up so I can see that his hair is long enough to be tied back into a ponytail. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. I can’t see his shoes. His arms are toned and he’s strong. He works out. That’s probably not helpful, but what do I know about what details solve crimes? I try to think of other identifying features that I can tell the police. His voice is deep, so maybe he is older than he looks, and he sounds educated, polite even. When he held me from behind my head was pressed hard against his chest so he must be over six feet tall. It’s hard to tell. I’ll have to take more notice when we get out of the car. What colour was the car? Dark blue or black? What make? I look around the dash for a brand. There could be one on the steering wheel, but I can’t see it. I try to picture his face in my head. How will I manage one of those face sketch things the police do if I can’t remember any details? I need to remember times too. It’s two-forty now. Has it really only been two hours and forty minutes since I got home and found that guy in my house? It feels like a lifetime ago. Oh, how quickly everything can change …

  Nothing makes sense, and trusting anything Zel tells me would be extremely naive. If they are killing everyone who knows about the note, why haven’t they killed him? For all I know he is one of them. But then again, he could have easily killed me and left me behind with Simon. Maybe they need me alive for something? The way Zel behaved at the office was protective. It was like he did want to keep me safe, but what could his agenda be? Whateve
r it is, I decide I’m not going to stick around to find out. As soon as I get the chance I’m going to run. Finding me in a big city would have to be near impossible.

  We turn onto the Great Ocean Road. Usually I love this drive, but this morning every tight corner adds to my horror. Every kilometre travelled is one less to go, and I dread what will happen when we stop. At least while we are travelling I’m alive.

  ‘What’s going to happen now?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m still working that one out. I wasn’t expecting to have you with me. I …’ He pauses for a moment. ‘You weren’t part of my plan, and now I’m not sure.’

  ‘Can you just tell me straight? I’ve already had a gun held to my head, been abducted, found my colleague dead, you know, I think I can handle it.’ My tone gets snarkier as I talk.

  He looks at me and nods. ‘I didn’t expect to find you alive.’ After a long moment he continues, ‘Do you remember the Chisel boating incident?’

  ‘No. I only learned about it when I found the note. I know it happened five years ago, so I would have been twelve. Darryl said it wasn’t heavily reported because the Chisels have control over so much of the news.’

  I want my phone badly. I never go anywhere without it. I could research the Chisel family and this accident more thoroughly …

  By four-thirty the city lights draw closer. Zel heads directly into the CBD. He knows his way around. He pulls into the semicircular driveway of a building called Regal Towers. Fairy lights dot the trees out the front and a man in a red jacket walks towards us.

  ‘Act relaxed, like we’ve been to a party or something. Don’t let him see your face. You don’t want anyone being able to describe you.’

  Zel gets out of the car and hands the keys to the valet. I follow Zel into the foyer, keeping my head down. I am very much underdressed in denim cutoffs and a t-shirt. I’m not sure what to do while Zel talks to the man at reception so I pretend to look at the flowers and fountains, keeping my back to the counter. When I turn, out of the corner of my eye, I see Zel move away from the reception desk. He indicates for me to follow. We take the lift to the twenty-fifth floor and walk to room number 2507. Zel touches the key to the black pad at the door and it unlocks. I take a step back.

  ‘What are we doing?’

  ‘We’re staying here until I can work out what to do,’ Zel says.

  I shake my head. ‘No.’ Panic starts to rise inside me. Why did I come upstairs with this guy? I should have made a scene in the foyer, screamed blue murder. Anything could happen once I’m inside and that door is shut. I turn and run down the hall towards the lift.

  I hit the button. Nothing happens. C’mon! It was just here. We just got out of it … I glance over my shoulder. Zel is moving fast towards me. I hit the button again and again.

  Then Zel is on me. One arm around my waist and the other over my mouth. He picks me up and carries me back to the room. I kick and scream and claw at his arms. The door opens, then shuts, and we are alone. No one knows where I am. No one knows I’m missing. I keep losing my chances to escape.

  Zel holds me tight, again with my back pressed hard against him, my head firmly pushed into his chest and one of his hands over my mouth while I totally freak and thrash about.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you. Tamara, listen to me.’ Zel keeps talking in his soft, soothing voice until I stop fighting and let my body go slack. He doesn’t let me go straight away, unsure of what I might do. ‘Tamara, I may not have all the answers you want right now. I wish I could deliver you home and wave goodbye, but if I did that they would find you and kill you. I know it and you know it. Like Simon and Darryl …’

  At the sound of their names I start to cry. I cry for them and for me, for their families and friends and the entire town that will be in mourning for years. I cry for my parents, who will be distraught if I die. For my sister, who I might never see again. For me. For my life. My life. My beautiful, happy, uncomplicated life.

  When Zel lets me go I flop onto the bed, turn away from him, cover my face with a pillow and sob.

  Zel stays quiet, letting me be. When I am more composed I sit up, edge my way to the wall and face him, hugging the pillow to my chest.

  ‘I’m so sorry about your colleagues … I mean your friends … I mean … Simon and Darryl.’ Zel looks sincere. ‘So far you’re the only survivor.’

  He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He sits on the chair beside the bed and lets his face fall into his hands. His fingers trace the swollen part of his eye absent-mindedly. He closes his good eye while he takes a moment of his own. His fingers move down to cover his mouth and he opens his eyes and looks at me like he’s thinking. He moves his hands away from his face.

  ‘I’ll make it stop,’ he says. ‘Whatever it takes, I’ll make it stop. What happened tonight, and what you told me about the coat of arms, the two lions and two chisels, has confirmed what I’ve been suspecting for a long time. I just couldn’t prove it. But now I’m sure, and now I’ll make things right.’

  I’m not entirely sure what Zel is planning, or what exactly he is going to make right, but there’s no mistaking the glint of determination in his eye.

  I don’t have a clue what’s going on, who this guy really is, or why Simon and Darryl are dead, but there is one thing I know for certain. As long as I am with Zel, even if he’s one of the good guys, the closer I am to my death. If they killed Simon and Darryl just for having seen the note, they will not hesitate to kill him or me if they know Zel wants to interfere.

  I close my eyes and try to let my breathing slow down. There’s no way I could fall asleep. Adrenaline is charging through my veins. My fear is like an undertow, constant and strong, pulling me out to depths I could drown in. The only thing that interrupts the fear are my waves of sorrow.

  I lie still and through my eyelashes see Zel move to the sofa. He watches me, so I wait. I slow my breathing, keep my eyes closed and pretend to fall asleep.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  Zel finally lies down on his side. He closes his eyes and his breathing slows too.

  When I am certain he is asleep, I creep to the door and slip outside.

  ‘Where’s Christian?’ Portia says, her voice catching.

  ‘It doesn’t mean he didn’t make it,’ I say. ‘He could be on another beach, or even another island.’

  Portia stares down at Dad, Knox and Uncle Oliver, her face expressionless.

  ‘We’ll keep checking the beaches. We’ll check them all,’ I say. ‘He’s a strong swimmer.’

  My words fall flat. The sea was wild. It wouldn’t matter how good a swimmer Christian was. I’m not sure anyone could’ve survived that without a life jacket.

  ‘How are we going to check?’

  Her gaze goes to my feet and then to hers. Neither of us has shoes. I bet Dad, Knox and Uncle Oliver don’t have any either. Then I remember, Knox had been wearing sandals. I noticed when we were trying to carry him out. He’d obviously staggered into his bedroom and fallen asleep without undressing or taking off his shoes. I guess it doesn’t mean he’s still wearing them. They might be floating somewhere out there.

  I look out to sea. The water looks flat and calm out past the breakers. Nothing like the thrashing monster it was last night.

  ‘If we can’t check ourselves, the rescue crews will search until they find him.’

  ‘How long before they get here?’

  ‘I have no idea, but they would know we need help. The distress beacon would have deployed as soon as the life raft hit the water.’

  ‘They might already be on their way then,’ says Portia with a note of hope in her voice.

  ‘It’s possible.’ A lump forms in my throat and I swallow roughly. ‘Let’s climb down and see if they’re okay.’

  Portia edges towards the cliff.

  I stand to follow her and, for a moment, watch the three figures below us. Two of them haven’t moved and my chest tightens at the
sight. I wonder if they’re alive.

  ‘Over here,’ Portia calls. ‘I think here’s the best way down.’

  Portia steps down onto a boulder, then drops out of my line of sight. Every step I take opens up the old cuts and makes fresh ones. The rock face is so sharp. When I reach the edge I see that it isn’t anywhere near as steep as I first thought. Blood marks every rock Portia’s feet have touched.

  I follow her path and catch up to her quickly, but we don’t speak. She doesn’t even complain about the pain, so I don’t either.

  Every so often I turn and look down. Our progress feels slow. My legs and arms ache and when I reach halfway I look up and then down and dread climbing in either direction. Still, Portia doesn’t complain, so I keep moving. Small step after small step. Each one adding to the journey.

  The closer I get to the beach, the more I think about the two motionless figures. I keep glancing down at them to see if they have moved. They haven’t.

  An uneasy feeling stirs inside me. It was only hours ago that I wished for the sea to swallow Knox up. I take it back now. All of it. I don’t want Knox, or anyone else, to die. I want us all to be rescued. I want the chopper to arrive right now, with Christian already onboard, and to take us home where it is safe and warm with dry clothes and fresh, gritless water. And shoes.

  When Portia reaches the sand she sits and waits for me to drop down beside her. The way she steps back for me to take the lead makes me wonder if she, like me, fears the worst.

  Dad is sitting closest to us with his back turned and shoulders drooped. The other two are further down the beach, near some rocks.

  ‘Dad,’ I say. He spins around to face us. His face lights up. He gets to his feet. A large gash on his thigh oozes blood and he grimaces with pain as he moves.

  ‘You made it.’ As he says it his face puckers and tears start to flow down his cheeks. He reaches out and pulls me to him. ‘You made it.’ He breaks and sobs. I let him hug me until he composes himself. ‘Where’s your mother … and Selena?’

  ‘We came in on another beach, just next door.’ I point in the direction.

  When he releases me, I look at the other two further down the beach. Portia has already gone towards Uncle Oliver.