Gotta B

by Claire Carmichael

  Tal noticed that George Everett was also silent, frowning over his illegally enhanced iZod, inputting sequences then pausing to review the result. At last he thrust his arm up in victory, exclaiming, ‘Yes! I’ve broken through the cloak!’

  ‘George, you’re a genius,’ said Allyx.

  ‘True,’ he said modestly.

  George pumped up the audio on his iZod so everyone in the room could hear the news report. ‘A police perimeter has been set up around Braidworth High School,’ the announcer’s fruity baritone declared, ‘keeping out desperately worried parents and eager onlookers alike, while the police search for a deranged student who has vowed to kill.’

  ‘Now they’re showing a photo of Rick,’ said George, looking at his iZod’s screen.

  The announcer continued, ‘This is a recent photograph of Richard Lawrence – also known as Rick Lawrence – a suspended student of Braidworth High, who is described as mentally disturbed. In a series of postings to the school website, he has threatened to – and I quote – “blow away” teachers and students. Law enforcement authorities have issued a warning to the public not to approach Richard Lawrence under any circumstances. He is reportedly in possession of a double-barrelled shotgun and a supply of shells.’

  There was a murmur of alarm in the room. Marsfield raised his voice. ‘Settle down. The door’s locked. No one can get in.’

  ‘But with a shotgun, Lawrence could blow the lock away,’ George pointed out.

  This sobering thought started an avalanche of suggestions of what to do.

  ‘We could get out the windows. It’s not that much of a drop.’

  ‘I say stay put. Russell said the cops could shoot us by mistake.’

  ‘How about barricading the door with desks?’

  ‘All the furniture’s screwed to the floor. We haven’t got any tools.’

  ‘Get the principal on the call-back and tell him we’ve got to be rescued right now.’

  ‘Why would he rescue us when the whole school’s in lockdown?’

  On George’s iZod, the announcer was saying dramatically, ‘As helicopters hover overhead, frantic parents wring their hands and terrified students crouch in classrooms, a systematic search is being made of every building, every room, any area where a crazed student might hide.’

  ‘I wonder if our parents are out there, waiting,’ Jennie said. ‘I wish there was a way we could tell them we’re okay.’

  ‘There is,’ said Tal. ‘George’s iZod is working. He could IM them for us.’

  ‘No way,’ said George, who’d overheard the conversation. ‘If I do it for you, I have to do it for everyone. Besides, something’s happening.’

  ‘Dramatic developments!’ boomed the announcer. Tal detected a trace of disappointment in his voice as he went on. ‘The lockdown at Braidworth High is ending. A thorough search of the grounds has failed to find any trace of armed and mentally disturbed student, Richard Lawrence.’

  Almost immediately, the public address system broadcast the same message from Principal Constanza, with the welcome addition that the cloaking of comms was being removed. ‘Under the circumstances, I am suspending lessons for the rest of the day and cancelling the school dance tonight. It will be rescheduled later.’

  After a few cheers of relief that the ordeal was over, everybody grabbed their comms and began feverishly texting as they made for the door.

  Outside there was confusion as students streamed out of the buildings, concerned parents flooded onto the grounds, and reporters interviewed anyone who looked the slightest traumatised – Tal was amused to see Yvette Sarno putting on a fairly convincing display of hysterics.

  Tal, Allyx and Jennie met up with Petra and David in the crowd heading for the gates. ‘I’ve got an IM from my dad,’ said Allyx with a groan. ‘He’s waiting for me outside. He’ll want to take me home, and I’d rather stay with you guys.’

  Steven Grant wasn’t alone. Standing with him was Jennie’s anxious father and Rob Anderson, who Grace had asked to go to the school because she was stuck in a work meeting. Once Tal assured Rob that he was fine, Rob left for an important meeting of his own.

  ‘Obviously my parents were too busy to bother coming,’ Petra said bleakly.

  Steven Grant shook his head. ‘That isn’t true, Petra. I’m here on their behalf. Your mother called me as soon as they heard the news. I’ve just been texting a message to say you’re safe and well.’

  ‘My mum won’t even know there’s been a drama,’ said David.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Jennie’s father, mildly scandalised by the failure of a parent to keep in touch.

  ‘Mum works in a totally shielded zone, making drone reconnaissance flyers for the military. She doesn’t get to use her comm until she leaves the plant.’

  Petra had Tal make a call to her mother to repeat that she was okay. ‘And tell Mum I could have called her direct if only I’d had my iZod.’

  The call accomplished, Petra said, ‘How about everyone comes to my place? We need a council of war. We know Rick wouldn’t hurt a fly, but people are going to believe he’s a stone-cold killer.’

  ‘Allyx won’t be joining you,’ said Steven Grant firmly. ‘No, Allyx, it’s no use arguing. You’ve had an upsetting experience and I want you home with me.’

  ‘Dad?’ said Jennie with a sweet smile. ‘I promise not to be home late.’

  ‘Okay.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘You’re sure about Rick? He isn’t dangerous?’

  ‘It’s all a huge mistake.’

  David said, ‘Sure, we know they’re wrong about Rick, but the cops don’t. They’ll shoot first and ask questions later.’

  NINETEEN

  An hour later the Five, minus Rick, sat munching toasted cheese sandwiches courtesy of Rosa.

  Tal glanced around the little group, wondering if they felt like he did – strangely dislocated, as though the familiar world was not so familiar after all. The events of the morning seemed to have happened in some parallel universe, where Braidworth High could be locked down for the bizarre reason that Rick – Rick, who’d been their friend since kindergarten – had supposedly gone over the edge and was roaming the grounds with a shotgun, looking for people to kill.

  Petra said indistinctly through a mouthful of sandwich, ‘We’ve got to find Rick before the cops do.’

  ‘Because he’s a disconnect, he’s got no idea what’s going on,’ said Jennie. ‘My guess is he’s just wandering around.’

  ‘Then he won’t be doing that much longer,’ said David, who’d been monitoring the news on his iZod. ‘There are pictures of Rick everywhere on the web, plus there’s a reward for his capture being offered.’

  ‘If he isn’t wandering around, where would he go?’

  ‘The games shop?’ said Tal, remembering that, of all of them, Rick was the one who was the most into video games.

  ‘Nah,’ said David. ‘Rick spends so much time there, the guy who owns it knows him. He would have turned him in by now.’

  ‘This is so wrong,’ said Jennie. ‘I can’t believe Rick had anything to do with those threats on the school website. He’s disconnected, so he’s got no way of posting them.’

  ‘Maybe he got a friend to do it for him,’ Petra suggested.

  ‘Like who?’ said David. ‘We’re his friends.’

  ‘And where’s the shotgun supposed to have come from?’ Tal asked. ‘There’s no way his grandparents would have a gun in the house.’

  Petra agreed. ‘It’s all too dumb. Why would Rick tell everyone he was going to shoot up Braidworth High? It’s like saying to the cops, “Please kill me”.’

  ‘Suicide by cop,’ said David. ‘Happens all the time.’

  ‘Not Rick,’ declared Petra. ‘He isn’t that depressed.’

  ‘You can’t say that, Petra,’ Jennie pointed out. ‘Even when Rick seems to be okay, he could be hiding how bad he feels.’

  ‘That’s true. You get isolated from everyone when you’re a disconnect,’ said Petra moodil
y. ‘People find it hard to get in touch with you. I know all about it.’

  David rolled his eyes.

  Tal grinned at Petra. ‘How about you give us all a big break, and get your iZod back? Tell your mum it’s a safety issue, that you’ve got to have it to call for help if there’s an emergency like today.’

  Petra sighed. ‘She’d never fall for it.’

  Jennie stood up. ‘Guys, while we’re feeding our faces, Rick is out there somewhere. And he’s in danger –’

  David broke in. ‘Thelma’s being interviewed on TV. Maybe she’ll say something that’ll give a clue to where Rick might be.’

  Seeing Tal and Jennie take out their iZods, Petra sighed despondently. ‘I’ll have to watch it on the big screen. I don’t need to tell you why.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ said David. ‘I’m sick to death of the subject.’

  They followed Petra to the entertainment centre. She keyed ‘interview Richard Lawrence’s grandmother’ into the console and in a moment a list of possible TV sites appeared.

  ‘Second from the bottom – the one with Bamber,’ said David.

  On the huge screen every line and wrinkle on Thelma’s face appeared with less than flattering clarity. Although obviously stressed, her manner was direct and her voice crisp.

  ‘I don’t see the point in going over all this again. I’ve been asked too many questions today by too many people, Mr Bamber.’

  Sleekly groomed Bamber, a celebrity interviewer so famous he only used a single name, said, ‘No formality needed, Thelma. Just Bamber will be fine.’

  He paused for her to respond. When she didn’t, he said soothingly, ‘I do understand how very hard this must be for you, Thelma – may I call you Thelma?’

  This was clearly a rhetorical question, because he continued immediately, ‘But I’m sure you want to help your grandson any way you can.’

  ‘Naturally I want to help Rick. He’s been wrongly accused of something he would never do –’

  ‘Of course you believe that, Thelma,’ he interrupted in a warmly sympathetic tone, ‘and I’m sure you’re right, but the huge audience watching this interview has yet to decide the truth of the matter. It would be of great help to know your grandson’s state of mind.’

  ‘Rick was a bit depressed because he’d been disconnected, that’s all.’

  ‘Let’s talk about last night. Dr Howard Unwin’s visit to your home upset Rick. Is that right?’

  Thelma opened her mouth to answer, but Bamber was already saying, ‘A short explanation for those who have just joined us. Dr Howard Unwin is a noted psychiatrist, and a co-director, together with Dr Carter Renfrew, of The Farront Centre, established by communications giant Farront International to research and treat youth health issues.’

  His attention back on Thelma, he murmured, ‘Please continue …’

  ‘Mr Villabona brought Dr Unwin with him and –’

  ‘Mr Villabona is a top executive with Farront International?’

  Her lips tightened at this further interruption. ‘Yes, Mr Bamber, that’s correct.’

  ‘And when Mr Villabona and Dr Unwin offered your grandson free treatment for communication withdrawal stress syndrome, also known as CWSS, Rick became angry?’

  ‘He didn’t believe he needed treatment. And anyway, Rick didn’t like the idea of being a residential patient at the centre. I’m afraid he lost his temper and stormed off. Mr Villabona and Dr Unwin were very nice about it.’

  ‘And this morning?’ prompted Bamber.

  ‘This morning Rick didn’t want to go with me to the hospital – my husband’s recovering from a bad fall – so I left him alone at home. When I got back, Rick was missing and the police were everywhere.’

  ‘I believe you made a formal complaint about the way you were treated.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘Yet another case of police brutality.’

  ‘Hardly brutality,’ Thelma said tartly. ‘Lack of consideration, more like it. And I didn’t file a formal complaint. I did mention to the officer in charge that I’d been treated rudely. Perfect strangers, armed to the teeth, poured into my house demanding to know where Rick was. They called him a terrorist and shouted at me to show them where his weapons were stored.’

  ‘You were understandably frightened.’

  ‘I was understandably annoyed, Mr Bamber, to be treated this way in my own home. I told them Rick would never hurt anyone, that we didn’t have a firearm of any description, and that I didn’t know where Rick was at the moment, but I was sure he’d be back soon. I might as well have been speaking to a brick wall. No one listened to me. They just started with the same questions all over again.’

  Bamber swung around to the camera. ‘Richard Lawrence. Troubled young man, or dangerous terrorist? That is the question. We’ll have answers for you right after our valued sponsors’ important messages.’

  A commercial for a home security firm filled the screen with graphic images of the dreadful things practically guaranteed to occur if people were too foolish to install the company’s deluxe security system.

  As the commercial showed a figure lurking in the shadows at the back of a mansion, Jennie said, ‘I think I know where Rick could be. The treehouse. He’s always loved it there.’

  The elaborate treehouse in David’s backyard had been a favourite rendezvous for the Five when they were growing up. Built by David’s father with loving care, it perched in the embrace of an enormous old tree, and was still in good condition. Occasionally on summer evenings they would still climb up to sit in the warm darkness and talk things over.

  It was an easy walk to David’s place from Petra’s home. On the way, Jennie said, ‘Did you see the terrorist special teams this morning? If they find Rick …’

  ‘If they find Rick they’re liable to shoot him,’ said David. ‘Those guys are trained to take down a target fast.’

  Tal quickened his pace. ‘We’re Rick’s closest friends, so it’s only a matter of time until they use our comms’ GPS beacons to pinpoint where we are. We have to get to Rick fast and talk him into giving himself up.’

  He didn’t know why it hadn’t really hit him before, but Tal was suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of urgency. This was a life-and-death situation, not a game. It wasn’t Rick’s avatar that was being stalked, it was the real Rick, who would bleed real blood if he were shot.

  ‘Hurry up,’ he called over his shoulder as he broke into a run.

  When the four of them arrived at David’s place, Tal was amazed to see how neglected it was. Tal and the others hadn’t been here since David’s parents had split up. Now the house looked as though it were abandoned. The garden had been unattended for months. Weeds grew in profusion and unpruned bushes ran wild.

  Clearly embarrassed, David gestured towards the garden. ‘The divorce … Mum isn’t coping all that well.’

  ‘Shit happens,’ said Petra. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘Your mum’s at work?’ Jennie said.

  ‘She won’t be home until this evening.’

  David led the way around the side of the house. The backyard was particularly overgrown, so they had to wade through tall grass to get to the treehouse. The four of them stood by the thick trunk and looked up.

  ‘Rick?’ Jennie called. ‘Are you there?’

  Silence.

  Crushed, she said, ‘I was so sure this is where he’d be.’

  Hands on hips, head thrown back, Petra bellowed, ‘Move it, Lawrence!’

  There was a rustle of leaves, then Rick’s face looked down at them. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Jennie’s psychic,’ said Tal. ‘Stay there. We’ll come up.’

  Soon they were all seated on the treehouse floor. The space had been roomy when they were kids, but now it was cramped. Taking up some of the area was a large backpack. ‘I brought provisions,’ said Rick, noticing Petra eyeing it.

  ‘Why did you take off?’ Jennie asked.

  Rick drooped his head in
misery. ‘Thelma’s going to put me in that clinic. I’m sure they’ll persuade her. See, last night –’

  ‘We know all about it,’ Petra said impatiently.

  Knowing the answer already, Tal asked, ‘Did you know the cops are looking for you?’

  Rick stared at him in astonishment. ‘You’re joking! Thelma called the cops just because I took off for a day?’

  ‘I told you he wouldn’t have a clue,’ said Petra.

  ‘Dude, you’re a wanted terrorist,’ said David.

  ‘What? Is this a joke?’

  ‘No joke,’ said Tal. ‘Someone claiming to be you posted terrorist threats on the school website. Whoever it was pretending to be you said he had a shotgun and he was heading to Braidworth High to blow away teachers and kids who’d laughed at him. The school was in lockdown this morning while cops and special teams searched the grounds.’

  ‘Looking for you waving a shotgun,’ Petra added, in case Rick didn’t get the picture.

  Rick was flabbergasted. ‘It wasn’t me! I never made any threats.’ His face reddened with anger. ‘It’s bloody Maryann! Why won’t she leave me alone?’

  ‘Forget Dodder,’ said Petra, ‘we can deal with her later. Right now the big problem is what to do about you.’

  He struggled to his feet. ‘I’ll tell them it’s all a big mistake.’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Tal. ‘It’s not as easy as that. We can’t just call and say to come and pick you up.’

  Rick looked sick. ‘Pick me up? I’m going to be arrested again? No way.’ He grabbed his backpack. ‘I’m outta here.’

  ‘Where the hell will you go?’ David asked.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Rick sat down abruptly and buried his face in his hands.

  Jennie put an arm around his shoulders. ‘You have to give yourself up. The police are coming after you. They think you’re armed and dangerous. You’ve got to show them you’re not. Once they understand they’ve got the wrong person, they’ll release you.’

  Rick muttered something.

  ‘What?’ said Petra.

  He lifted his head. ‘I said I’d rather die than be locked up.’

  Tal felt a surge of sympathy. Rick had done absolutely nothing to deserve what was happening to him. ‘Hey,’ he said, clapping him on the shoulder, ‘it won’t be for long. Like Jennie said, they’ll let you go when they realise you were set up.’