Chapter One

The night was moonless, dark.

The air was hot, humid, still.

James’ car tore through it – gravel and dust spewed from the back tyres; he belted down the bush track.

Headcheck: lights tailed him.  Far away, but close enough to see him and hunt him down.

Concentrate on the road, James – the thoughts of what he was running from stuck like cement, he couldn’t shake them.  His wrists stung, bloody and grazed from rope burn; reminded him of the beating he’d just received.

Blood dripped down from his brow, welled in his right eye.  He wiped it away to get a glimpse out of the rearview mirror.  He was clocking 150ks, but tailing lights were still too close.  He stared at them…a moment too long: his car hit a pothole, the wheel jolted from his sweaty hands.  The car skidded off into thickets of dry grass, slammed into the road-side trench.  James’ head smacked hard against the wheel – left him dazed, put a new gash on his brow.

Barely conscious, he was aware enough of the night’s proceedings to know he had to run…for his life!  He scrambled out; lacklustre limbs moved slow.  He rolled down the embankment and clamoured up the other side, under a fence and into a farm; only the urge to see another morning dragged him on.  His headlights, still on, lit the way – would make him easier to find.

He couldn’t shake the double vision.

He heard an engine growl as the tailing car pulled up next to his wreck, braking on the gravel, grinding to a halt.  Car doors opened and slammed shut, someone yelled, “There he is!”

James scampered as best his weary body could manage – he heard the twang of tight  fence wires as his pursuers negotiated them.  He heard the thumps of heavy footsteps grow louder, nearer.

As his sight cleared, he could see bushland ahead – the headlights of his car lit it just enough.  Silhouetted by high beams, James’ every movement cast huge shadows that splayed across the field; he scrambled out of the light and into the darkness of the paddock.  He headed for the cover of the trees.

Behind him he could hear the sound of long dry grass flicking against fast moving trousers.  He knew he had to make it to the darkness of the bush, but he was going too slow – either they’d catch him now or… or he’d make it and hide… and live.

He steadied his breathing; he ignored the sharp, shooting pains cutting at his body and begging him to stop – he started into a run.

“Don’t bother, James,” he heard from behind him.  “Don’t bother, mate.  We gotcha!”

He ignored them.  Ignored the pain.  Ignored the blood that soaked his face and shirt and blurred what little vision he had left – he focussed on the darkness ahead, he thought of his wife at home, his kids…  He sprinted.

There was a stumble, but he steadied – they could see him.

“Is he running?!  You’re kidding?!”  The sounds were mostly muted, deadened by the pumping of his heart and the sound of his own footfalls crashing though weeds and grass and twigs.  And, now…the sound of gunshots.

James ducked at the crack of them, but kept running.  He’d be impossible to see… surely, in the darkness of the field he’d be impossible to see.  He zig-zagged to make himself a harder target; he was still a duck in a pond.

There were more shots – he saw streaks of hot lead tear like lasers through the black night around him.  He ducked and fell, rolling with a painful grunt – but, he wasn’t hit.  He stood, charged through the thickets and into the bush; kept running.

More shots were stopped by trees – he kept running.

His body – defeated by fatigue – collapsed.  He rolled over – weary legs couldn’t carry him.

He could hear yelling – shadows at the brink of the forest were taunting him, “What’s the rush, James?”

Someone else yelled, “You’re bleeding, aren’t ya, James?”

James – semiconscious – could only make out the image of his wife amid the angst and fear killing his thoughts.  He hadn’t been a good husband; if he got through this, he could change things…  He dragged his uncooperative body deeper into the forest – with his fingers and arms, clutching at the ground, he pulled himself through prickles and blackness toward some hope of safety and a tomorrow.

Blindly, he felt out a log with a cavity along one side of it – it felt deep enough for him.  He might be able to wait it out here – catch his breath if they didn’t catch him first.

Involuntarily, he slipped into an exhausted sleep.  Haunting voices at the edge of the forest fell away from perception.  Against his will, his body shut down.

IN STORES 1 SEPTEMBER, 2009
Paperback - ISBN: 978-1-921496-03-5
336 pages

ISBN 978-1-921496-03-5
AUD$27.99 (+$5.00 p/h)

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