by Jen Cole
“We’re going back to my partner. He’s holding your boyfriend. Then we’ll call Mr. Andrews, our client. Once he’s verified we’ve got you, the next stop will be the police station. Where’s the baby?”
“There is no baby,” said Jo. “I’m not Kylie Marshall. I’m Jo Warrington. I’ve been set up.”
The woman gave a short laugh. “You can tell your story to the police.”
As they neared the entrance to the laneway, Jo made her move. Stepping onto her ‘bad’ leg, she thrust the good one in front of the agent. The woman stumbled, throwing out her hands and Jo assisted her fall with a hard shove between the shoulder blades before sprinting south in the direction of the motel.
Knowing she’d only bought seconds and desperate to lose herself in the streets, she turned right at the next intersection – Rowe Street. Another mistake. Its sides were lined with high-walled locked warehouses, stretching for half a kilometer. Her only option was to run the whole length.
As she tried to force more speed into her protesting legs, Jo glimpsed something on the other side and drawing level, found renewed hope. An alleyway, and not a dead end this time – she could see the twinkle of lights from the next street. Tearing across to the entrance, Jo glanced back in time to see the agent turn into Rowe Street and head straight for her. This woman wasn’t just big, she was fast.
I’m not going to make it, she thought. Still her legs churned frantically and her feet splashed through an unseen puddle left by the afternoon storm. A voice in her head began chanting. She’s faster, but you’re younger. Keep going a bit longer and you’ll wear her out.
The alley opened into Vaughan, a shopping street divided by center angle parking. Opposite the supermarket the parking strip was filled with cars. Jo pelted down the pavement. Should she go into the supermarket? No, she’d hide between the cars.
A pedestrian crossing led to where the head of the parking strip was delineated from the road by low concrete edging. The first two car spaces were empty and Jo charged for them, leaping over the edging. As she landed, her feet flew out from under and she fell flat, sliding until a sickening thump halted her progress.
For a moment Jo lay dazed beside a solid SUV, but the need to keep moving rolled her onto her stomach. She pushed against the ground and her hands shot out, leaving her facedown on the asphalt. Now she smelt it – oil. A car recently parked here must have been leaking copious amounts of it. Combined with rainwater in the shallow depression, it had turned the whole area into a dangerous slick. She looked back. The agent was running in her direction along the footpath, but hadn’t yet seen her lying on the ground in the center-parking strip.
Jo wriggled under the SUV, assisted by her greasy clothing. Coming out on the other side she sat and tested her feet on the ground. Her well-oiled shoes continued to skid but she rubbed them back and forth against the asphalt until some grip returned to the soles, and then rose to peek over the car.
Standing in the glow of the shopping center lights, the agent was looking left and right. As Jo watched, she reached into a pocket and took out what had to be a phone. Oh no, if she calls the Hunter with his helicopter, I’m gone! Standing, she thumped the hood of the SUV. The agent twisted at the sound, and their eyes locked.
“Leave me alone,” Jo screamed. “Stop chasing me.”
The woman immediately ran to the crossing and followed the path Jo had taken. Like her, she leapt the concrete lip and hit the oiled parking space. A spectacular skid slammed her into the SUV and the phone flew from her hand, landing on the road. Jo circled and scooped it up while the agent floundered in the oil slick. Then she sped down Vaughan Street with the woman’s curses ringing in her ears.
At the next intersection, Jo turned south into Maude. This wide street stretched on forever and panting, she staggered along, hoping for a turnoff before she collapsed. Only when Ashenden came up on her left did she dare to look back. The streetlamps showed an empty expanse. Jo gulped in relief and turned into the side street. A little way down an empty allotment was being used for opportunistic parking. She staggered to the back of the lot and crouched behind a sedan, sucking lungfuls of air as she waited for her heartbeat to slow.
That had been too close. Jo felt around in the gravel for a large stone. Then she put the agent’s phone on the ground and smashed it. For good measure she jammed the wreck under the car’s front tire. How long before the woman found another phone and called the Hunter? It could take a while, Jo thought. Public phone booths were usually vandalized, and if she tried the supermarket, she’d have to persuade the management to let her use theirs. Would she know the Hunter’s number by heart? Not likely. She’d have to call her agency and get them to pass a message to the Hunter.
Jo figured she had ten minutes at least before the helicopter arrived, turning night into day. The motel was closer than that if she used footpaths, but with agents patrolling the roads she didn’t want to risk it. She’d have to go over fences and through backyards. Luckily the evening was cold. People would be indoors but what about their dogs? She hoped they’d be inside too, sitting with their owners, watching TV.
…
Richard groaned. His motel unit was dark. He called softly anyway, but there was no response. Okay, he thought. Don’t waste time. Get the van and get going. Seeing Mikey sitting behind the reception desk, he relaxed a little. Of the two brothers, Mikey was the one who complained loudest and longest about his lack of funds. He’d need little convincing.
Five minutes later Richard emerged with the keys to the van in his pocket and a spare room key in his hand. Quickly he packed his and Jo’s belongings and loaded them into the back of the van. At the last minute he grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and threw that in too. The night was freezing and if he did manage to find Jo, he had no idea what state she’d be in.
Richard drove out through the gates and began a slow circle of the block, straining for a sign of Jo. He tried to suppress the vision of her locked up somewhere with an agent standing guard while they waited for the Hunter. If he harms her, Richard vowed, he’ll learn what it’s like to be hunted down.
There! Was that Jo up ahead? No, just a kid in a tracksuit. Gradually he became aware of something disturbing his concentration, a familiar noise – the helicopter. He stopped and tasted bile. The noise became a painful clamor and a spotlight swept over the van, flooding it and the surrounds with brightness.
Richard stopped and turned off his lights. He got out, and shading his eyes, peered up at the chopper, hoping by this action to look like an innocent bystander. It seemed to work. The spotlight moved on and when darkness returned, Richard climbed back behind the wheel. His hands were trembling, though he realized the chopper was a good sign. If it was searching for Jo, she must be at large. He checked his watch. Ten-thirteen. A little over forty-five minutes before the next broadcast. Richard left his lights off, and keeping clear of the spotlight, trawled the streets around the motel.
…
Jo cringed at the sound of the chopper. She was still a block from the motel and shaking with fatigue. Climbing fences and running through backyards was definitely not a recommended mode of travel. But when she’d been tempted to risk the footpath and had crept through to someone’s front yard, she’d seen two cars cruising slowly in opposite directions. Agents were patrolling. That had been bad enough, but now the chopper had arrived, how was she supposed to stay hidden? The backyard theme for houses in this area was Spartan, the yards little more than tough grassy rectangles occasionally adorned with a straggly shrub. Oh Richard, she thought. Where are you? Are they holding you somewhere, or did you get away from the other agent? Are you waiting at the motel, wondering what’s happened to me? I don’t even know if I can get there.
Jo blinked back angry tears. Why had she suggested crossing at a major intersection instead of taking a longer, but safer route? And why the hell had Richard so meekly agreed to her stupid plan? Now she had no choice. She was out of time and would have to risk using
the street before the helicopter came her way.
From the backyard she was in, Jo glanced towards the windows of the house. They were dark and carport was empty. Quickly she jogged down the driveway. Rather than a front fence, the owners had planted a row of agapanthus. These folks were obviously the gardeners of the street. Jo dashed to the agapanthus hedge and rolled under the strappy leaves. Lying on her stomach and trying not to think about the snails and spiders sharing her spot, she scanned the road.
Lights appeared and she ducked her head down, pulling the hood over. The car passed but she continued to lie, her muscles refusing to move other than to shiver in the biting cold. Come on Jo, she thought. You can’t stay here forever. Get going! Stiffly she began rising and then froze. A van was coming slowly up the road without headlights. As it passed by, the streetlight briefly illuminated the lettering on its side – The Welcome Inn. Richard’s motel! Richard had said he was going to try to get a van.
Jo leapt up and ran onto the road. Though the van was moving slowly, there was no way she’d catch it. Dropping to the gutter, she scraped up a handful of stones and sprinted forward, hurling them with all her might.
~~~~
CHAPTER 36
An odd sound, like hailstones hitting the van, had Richard braking and checking his side mirror. Was that someone on the road? Jo! He leapt out and ran back. She was staggering and he caught her before she fell.
“Jo, my God, I’ve been so worried.”
“Oh Richard.” She gave a weak laugh but her arms wrapped around him in a stranglehold. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She smelt strongly of engine oil and was trembling from head to toe. Without hesitation he scooped her up and ran to the van. As he unlocked the back door, he spoke soothingly. “You’re safe now. There’s a blanket inside. I’ll get you settled.”
He lifted her in and followed, finding the blanket and wrapping it around her. Then he pushed the bike bag and his suitcase close to the wall to make a space where she could lie without rolling, and arranged the panniers as a pillow. Turning back, he sensed the panic in her stiffness, and her words reminded him of her ordeal in the boot.
“You’re leaving me here?”
“Jo,” he hugged her and spoke reassuringly. “We need to keep moving, but don’t worry, there’s plenty of room and air in this cabin. Try to sleep if you can. You’re safe, and I’m getting us out of here.”
He guided her into the space he’d created and she sank down, pulling the blanket around herself. Was she going to be all right? His fear was answered when she heaved up onto an elbow and said, “Richard?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to drive like a maniac this time.”
He laughed and closed the doors. In the driver’s cabin he started the engine and flipped on the headlights. Now they were just one of the many vans on the roads. Richard knew he had a silly smile on his face, which given what still lay ahead, was absurd, but at this moment he felt ready to tackle anything.
He was pleased with his choice of Murchison for the Hunter’s eleven o’clock co-ordinates. It would look as if they were on their way to Bendigo. Instead, after the broadcast, they’d backtrack a little and take a minor road south, which would return them to the Goulburn Valley Highway. Ten minutes down the Highway was the Goulburn Weir turnoff, just north of Nagambie. The Lake Retreat was only five minutes along the Goulburn Weir Road, so if all went according to plan, less than half an hour after the broadcast they’d be holed up in a warm, comfortable room. That was the easy bit. In that warm, comfortable room would be Marilyn, and a tough sell.
Richard caught himself yawning. It had been a long day and it wasn’t over yet. And after that three more days loomed. When the hell was he going to sleep? He understood now why Jo catnapped whenever she could, but twenty-minute snatches wouldn’t substitute long for a proper night’s rest. The Hunter and his agents, working in shifts, would always be fresh. It followed that if he and Jo used nothing more than a running and hiding strategy, they’d eventually be caught. Survival meant turning the tables on the Hunter, and he needed to work out how to do that before fatigue addled his brain.
A sign appeared and he turned off onto the Murchison-Violet Town road. Old bitumen, it was little more than a dark, narrow strip with crumbling edges. Eucalyptus trees crowded the sides and Richard’s headlights picked out open paddocks, but no other cars. After twenty minutes he came to the Wahring-Murchison East crossroad. This was the road he would take south back to the highway after the broadcast, but now he crossed it, continuing west towards Murchison.
An occasional farmhouse began appearing and he kept his eyes peeled for a service station or roadhouse to pull into, but there was nothing. A wooden bridge brought him to another crossroad. On the far right corner was an old country hotel. A post office stood on the left. He’d reached Murchison.
Richard turned right, swinging into an angle parking spot in front of a launderette abutting the hotel. A bakery/teashop stood beside the launderette, and a few shops stretched beyond, but everything was closed and lifeless.
He walked to the back of the van and opened the doors. The sound woke Jo and she sat up, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. He leapt in to join her.
“Where are we?” She squinted at her watch.
“Murchison. We made good time. We have almost fifteen minutes before the broadcast. God it’s cold back here! How are you coping?”
“The blanket helps.”
She opened it up in invitation, and Richard hunkered down, putting one arm around her as he pulled the edge of the blanket over both of them. For a minute they sat in silence. Jo’s head rested against his chest and Richard realized he was enjoying her warmth and closeness more that he probably should. He tried making small talk.
“How did your Uni interview go?”
“My what? Oh, that seems so long ago. I never actually got to the interview. Fitani intercepted me.”
“I’m still finding it hard coming to terms with the idea that people from the future can communicate with us.”
“Me too,” said Jo. “I keep forgetting they’re watching our every move, though that’s probably not such a bad thing.”
Richard squirmed inwardly, having also forgotten. He spoke bitterly. “Humanity must have really gone to the dogs if our descendants see nothing wrong with setting up murder games.”
She surprised him with her next remark. “They have it pretty tough. It can’t be easy living in silos on the edge of a nuclear wasteland, only able to use the clean land for food production.”
“Bad, I agree, but still no excuse to take it out on you.”
Jo gave a little laugh. “They don’t see it that way. I and the Prey killed before me represent those responsible for their current state.”
“The Prey killed before you?”
“Apparently Play or Die has been going for nine seasons.”
“Well it’s got to stop!” Richard shook his fist at the roof of the van. “Do you hear me? This is sick! You demean yourselves as a people behaving this way.”
“You know Richard is right.” Jo spoke earnestly, also looking towards their invisible audience. “Murder won’t heal your wounds. You call it punishment but isn’t it really self-indulgence? You’re smart and creative, and your technology is advanced. You could be solving your problems instead of taking out your frustration on others.”
Richard tightened his arm around Jo and looked into her eyes. “Well said, but will they listen?”
“Danny is their mouthpiece. As long as he continues to run the game, we have to assume they prefer controlling my life to taking control of their own.”
“Perhaps there’s nothing they can do about their lives.”
“There’s always something, and I have a feeling these people are being manipulated.”
“By whom?”
“Their lives seem completely in the hands of the supposedly kindhearted Company they all work for. Every thirty years the land
they’ve cleaned is planted out with food crops and their silo housing is relocated to the edges of the wastelands.”
“So?”
“When Fitani showed me a holographic map of his production fields, a vast area was blurred out.”
Richard gave an ironic laugh. “If their company is anything like the ones we have, that blur is covering Company holdings.”
“Manufacturing facilities?”
“I doubt it. Why hide them? No, that’s where you’ll find the Company Execs living and frolicking.”
“Surely not,” said Jo, playing along. “That area’s far more than is needed for just a few executives. The blur has to be a glitch in their software.”
“So why don’t they fix it? I thought you said these people were smart. Aren’t their programmers up to the job?”
Jo gave his hand a warning squeeze under the blanket and changed the topic. “I don’t suppose we’ve stopped anywhere near food? The burgers from this afternoon are long gone.”
“Everything appears closed around here but I can take a look,” Richard offered. “Maybe there’s a store that will sell us a sandwich. Back in a tick.”
Rising reluctantly from Jo’s side, he relinquished the edge of the blanket. Then he leapt to the footpath and set off down the row of shops. They were all closed, but something else kept him walking – the need for a public toilet. All he found was a park, so he ducked in to relieve himself against a tree. Only when he’d finished did he remember this act had been seen by the viewers of the future. He clenched his teeth in embarrassment, understanding now what Jo had meant when she’d said it wasn’t such a bad thing to forget about being watched.
On the way back, Richard became aware of a wailing sound, which rapidly increased to earsplitting volume. A police car swept off the bridge and turned, picking him up in its headlights. It sped down and came to a screeching halt beside him. The front window lowered and a voice said, “Stop there please, sir.”