Wreck Read online

  Ever since that day Cameron’s called me Willy in this creepy way, so smiling at me and calling me Willy in front of Dad like that was a clear threat.

  Leaving his drink untouched, Cameron turned and saw himself out.

  ‘What did we talk about?’ Dad said to Knox.

  ‘What was I meant to do? He came to the door.’

  Knox is lying. This isn’t the first time he’s seen Cameron since the fight, it’s just the first time he’s been caught.

  ‘Tell him he’s not welcome here. If you don’t, I will. You know who the Porters are and what they do. What the hell is wrong with you?’

  Knox plays the sorry card. Like he’s the victim. He nods, looking sullen. ‘All the guys from school hang out with him.’

  ‘Well, you’re not at school with him anymore. You can distance yourself. You’re a man now, at university, you choose who you associate with.’

  ‘How can I when you’re choosing who I associate with?’ Knox is standing square now, defiant.

  ‘When you’re making choices that bring disrepute to this family, damned right I’ll choose for you. Hang out with your other friends. Make new ones. If I catch you with him again, you won’t be just banned from starting work at the business, I’ll also cut off your allowance.’

  I’m sure this threat is hollow, but even the thought of having no access to money will hurt Knox. I’ve seen him ridicule some of his friends for not having as much money as us. Not Cameron, though. The Porters are loaded, much to Dad’s disgust. Dad says the Porters are nothing but dirty thugs. He swears they’re all criminals, which is why Knox isn’t allowed to hang out with them.

  Aunty Selena stands up, which brings my thoughts back to the here and now – Christian missing, us stranded – and I brace myself for the explosion.

  Selena has one hand on her hip and waves her other one around like she’s angry at Uncle Oliver. She turns and strides towards Knox. Mum and Dad were standing away from them, but as soon as they see her heading for Knox, they go after her.

  ‘Get up!’ Selena shrieks at Knox. ‘Get up!’ She kicks sand at him.

  Dad dives in between them, arms up and palms out.

  ‘Let’s try to stay calm,’ he says to Selena.

  ‘My son is missing and it is his fault! I will not stay calm.’

  Knox groans, sits up and leans forward like he might vomit. ‘What?’

  ‘Christian is missing because of you.’ Selena’s face burns.

  Knox frowns at everyone, confused.

  ‘He gave you his life jacket because you were so drunk.’ Selena spits the words at him. ‘And now he’s …’ A sob escapes Selena and she can’t finish her sentence.

  ‘What’s she talking about? What’s going on? Where are we?’ Knox looks to Dad.

  Dad places his hands on Selena’s shoulders. ‘We need to calm down,’ he soothes.

  ‘Stop telling me to calm down!’ Selena pushes Dad away. ‘And don’t you defend him.’

  ‘Oh, he won’t defend me, you have no worries about that, Selena,’ says Knox. ‘Everything is my fault these days, so you may as well lay this on me too, whatever the fuck it is that’s happened.’

  ‘It’s not Knox’s fault.’ No one had seen Portia climb down the cliff, and Selena whips around to face her as she speaks. ‘Knox was drunk, yes, but it’s not his fault there was a storm and our boat hit the rocks.’

  Selena turns her focus to Dad.

  ‘She’s right. It’s your fault – both of you. We shouldn’t have been out there. It was your stupid idea to go out on the boat. We wanted to get off, and you said it would be okay.’

  Portia presses her eyes with her fingers like she has a headache. ‘Selena, this isn’t helping,’ she says. ‘We’re all upset that Christian is missing.’ Tears fill her eyes. ‘But blaming each other isn’t going to help find him. We need to work together right now.’

  Knox gets to his feet. ‘Portia, my shoes.’

  Portia kicks them off and hands them to him. ‘Are you going to look for him?’

  Knox doesn’t answer. He takes the shoes from Portia, but he’s glaring at Selena.

  ‘I’ve searched three beaches in that direction.’ Portia points the way she went. ‘I figured if we drifted into this side of the island, so would Christian. You go that way and check the next beach over.’

  Portia talking search strategies makes everyone focus on finding Christian and calms the fight.

  ‘When will Search and Rescue arrive?’ Portia asks Dad.

  ‘I don’t know. Should be soon, though. Today.’

  ‘They’ll be able to search for Christian from the air much better than we can,’ Portia says. ‘The beaches are small, but there are rocks and he could be among them.’

  The mention of Christian’s name sets off Selena again.

  ‘You’re only here because of Christian,’ she says to Knox. ‘Christian saved you and you don’t deserve it.’ Selena’s pitch rises until she’s screaming. ‘Christian’s a better person than you will ever be … Look at you! You’re a disgrace to this family!’

  ‘Enough,’ Dad yells. ‘Just stop!’

  Knox spins around, raises his finger to point at Selena and starts to say something.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ Dad booms at Knox. ‘Go and cool off – go so we can all cool off.’

  ‘Screw you! Screw all of you,’ Knox screams, then turns on his heel and storms towards the cliffs. He climbs up and disappears over the top without looking back.

  Selena falls to her knees, sobbing. Dad drops down in front of her and holds her, trying to soothe her with soft words and a gentle voice.

  Mum comes over to me and we turn away from Selena and Dad rocking back and forth and look out to sea.

  ‘Do you think he’s out there, somewhere?’ A lump forms in my throat and my last few words come out as a whisper.

  ‘I hope so,’ Mum says. Her face crumples as she says it. I put both arms around her and she cries softly on my shoulder. Mum doesn’t cry much so I’m not sure what to do. I stay quiet and still, feeling helpless, and let her cry. The only thing that could put us out of our misery is seeing Christian alive and well, climbing down that cliff. My gaze swings up, just in case. I hold my breath for a few seconds while I consider the possibility of Christian emerging right now.

  ‘What is it?’ Mum says, looking up.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Just looking.’

  ‘Portia is right. It is not Knox’s fault that there was a storm, nor that we hit some rocks,’ Mum says. ‘It’s not even Knox’s fault that Christian gave him his life jacket. It’s wrong to blame him for that.’

  Deep down I know she’s right, but my muscles clench with the rage of it all. Knox didn’t deserve the jacket. I can understand Selena’s fury.

  Mum lets go of me. She bends down and when a wave reaches our feet she splashes water onto her face.

  ‘I want you to climb up and see if Knox is okay.’ Dad is talking to me. Even the suggestion makes my feet sting. Mum sees my reluctance. ‘Go on,’ Dad says. ‘Climb up and check on your brother.’

  Half-brother, I want to correct him, but I don’t want to be petty like Knox.

  Portia is helping Oliver get to his feet when I walk past towards the cliffs. I stop to look up, and brace myself for the painful climb.

  When I reach the top, of course Knox is nowhere to be seen. I hobble in the direction Portia told him to go and I blame Knox for my pain and bleeding feet. Then I get an idea. I take off my shirt and tie it around one foot. It works. I can place my foot down without it getting cut. I use my toes on the other foot, and find I can take larger strides. Slowly I make my way towards the cove next to the beach where the life raft washed up and peer down.

  I see Knox down on the beach, hands clasped on top of his head, standing tall with his back to me, looking out at the horizon. Strewn on the beach is what looks like litter. Knox walks to something and picks it up. It’s yellow, not bright like the life jackets, but pale, one o
f the cushions perhaps. Then I recognise something else. Portia’s bright red bag. Knox walks over to it and picks it up, then he moves his head and goes still like he’s just seen something important. My heart quickens. I want it to be Christian so badly it hurts. We can’t lose the best person in our family. We just can’t.

  A sound reaches my ears. It’s a low drone coming from a direction I can’t identify. I spin around, looking into the sky, then I see it. Far out to sea, just above the horizon. An aeroplane. Rescue has arrived. We are going to get off this island. We are going home! I glance back down at Knox and he has seen it too. He turns back to the beach, runs around picking up the litter and then dashes out of sight. In my head I fantasise that Knox has found Christian and the plane has found us. I turn back to the plane and wave my arms, even though the plane is still too far away to see me. I keep waving at the plane and looking down at the beach to see if Knox will emerge with Christian. But the beach is empty, no sign of either of them.

  The plane is getting closer. I keep waving and jumping, but stop when it hurts my uncovered foot.

  The plane comes straight at me, white with a broad red stripe, tipping its wings as it flies over to tell me I’ve been seen. I whoop with excitement and fist-pump the air.

  I look back to the beach for Knox, expecting him to be there doing the same, hoping to see Christian with him, but the beach is still empty.

  What could be taking him so long? Maybe I missed him and he’s climbing up. I move closer to the edge and peer down. He’s not there. Maybe he has found Christian and needs help to get him up. Maybe Christian is injured like Uncle Oliver.

  Then I see him. Knox. Alone. He strides out, looking up at me, and then his head moves like he is looking for others along the cliffs as well. Didn’t he see or hear the plane? I wave my arms frantically but he doesn’t respond. He just makes his way to the cliff and starts climbing. I wait at the top, my hope expanding like a life raft, feeling everything is going to be okay. We have been found and they will find Christian, too, I know they will.

  Knox barrels over the edge and runs at me. ‘Were you spying on me? You are such a frigging creep.’ As he talks, spit flies from his mouth and he points his finger at my face.

  ‘No. Dad sent me.’ I back away.

  ‘You were spying,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘You’d all better watch it because I’ll be running the company one day. Everyone will depend on me. That’s something Christian never had the spine for.’ Knox hasn’t cooled off, he’s riled himself into a rage.

  He charges through the little space left between us and punches me right in the face. I hit the rock beneath me before I realise what’s happening.

  ‘He’s weak like you …’ His fist connects with my eye this time. ‘Screw you, screw Selena, screw Dad … And screw Christian.’

  Pain spears through my head and I can’t think of anything else. He punches me again before storming away.

  My hand comes up to my eye and a long, slow groan escapes me. My head hurts more when I touch it. My eye is sticky and swollen shut. Tears leak out of both and run down my face. My cheek is burning. When I move, the skin on my back stings. I’ve landed on the sharp rocks and now all of me is cut up, like my feet. My fingers skim over the bridge of my nose and I wonder if it is broken.

  Death scene: Knox trips at the clifftop and plunges to his slow and painful death.

  I hate Knox with all of my heart.

  Death scene: Knox spontaneously combusts.

  One day I will make his life hell.

  Death scene: A pack of wolves tears Knox apart.

  Selena is right to hate him too. Christian gave him his life jacket; it’s Knox’s fault Christian is missing, no matter how Portia and Mum see it.

  Death scene: Selena pulls out a gun and puts a bullet through Knox’s brain.

  My body sways to one side when I sit up and I have to place one hand down to steady myself. I stay put for a few minutes, then stand. I take my shirt off my foot. It seems futile to protect one foot now that I’m such a mess everywhere.

  The breeze cools my hot skin, but in a way causes more stinging. Every breath is a sob and I can’t make it stop. Rasping, ragged breaths. When I reach the edge of the cliff and look down at the others on the beach, I also see a helicopter in the distance and soon I can hear it.

  My family stands staring at the chopper from the beach below, Knox included. He stands at the water’s edge with one arm draped around Portia’s shoulder. It makes me feel sick. The image of him leaning over Portia last night, telling her she had to kiss him as soon as Christian went upstairs. It’s like he’s doing the same now, only he’s got more time before Christian returns.

  The plane swoops over us again and circles low over the island. There is nowhere safe for an aeroplane to land, which must be why the helicopter is coming.

  Blades chopping the air is the best sound I’ve ever heard, but I don’t wave or jump with joy. I’m so completely overwhelmed with pain and emotion and the worry of Christian being missing that I feel paralysed, and I stand and stare.

  The magnificent machine hovers above the beach and I am almost looking directly at the pilot. He salutes me as he lowers the aircraft down and lands gently on the beach. Sand blasts in every direction and everyone buries their face in their arms.

  The engine slackens and the blades slow. Rescue is here, we’ve been found, this nightmare is over. Yet, after the initial excitement of seeing them arrive, I’m not relieved. I look at my family standing in pairs, distanced from each other, their backs turned, and I wonder if the real nightmare has only just begun.

  Senior Detective Torney reverses so he can clear the car in front as we leave the library. It feels wrong. Me in the back of this car with this unfriendly guy. My palms are clammy and I wipe them on my shorts. As we take off, the two police officers in uniform walk out of the library, looking around. That confirms it. They were here for me. They were the official cops sent.

  I glance at Smith. He looks back, his eyes flicking to my chest. He knows I’m uncomfortable. We pull up at a set of traffic lights. In one fluid movement, I unclip my seatbelt and pull at the door handle at the same time. Nothing happens. It’s child-locked. Smith is on me in a flash and before I know what’s happened my right hand is handcuffed to the handle above the window. Now he’s sitting in the middle, his body pressed against mine.

  ‘How’s that feel, not too tight?’ When his hand drops it hits my thigh and he lets it linger there. I pull away from him and turn my body as far into the door as possible.

  ‘Focus,’ Torney snaps from the front.

  Smith sighs and rolls his eyes at Torney then looks at me. ‘We can’t have you going anywhere until we determine whether you are a victim or a suspect,’ he says as he slides back to his side. He pulls a gun from inside his jacket, unclips the magazine and replaces it with another before concealing it back inside his jacket.

  I turn my face away from him and tears threaten to fall. We pull up outside Regal Towers and I realise we are here for Zel.

  ‘What number is he in?’

  I ignore him.

  Smith grabs my face and turns it so I’m looking at him. His thumb and finger press so hard into my jaw I’m certain he will leave bruises. ‘If you don’t tell me what number he is in I will charge you with hindering a police investigation. I’m going to ask one more time. What number?’

  ‘Level twenty-seven. Room five.’ The number I give is wrong, but it’s similar and I may get away with them thinking I got muddled up.

  ‘Good girl.’ He smiles.

  Torney opens Smith’s door, so he lets go of my face and gets out of the car. They disappear into the hotel. I don’t know if they are real cops and I am under arrest, or whether they are the people who killed Simon and Darryl. The cuffs cut into my hand as I try to scrunch my fingers together to make my hand smaller. My hand will never fit through. I pull at the handle with my other hand. Then I place both feet on the ceiling of the car and push,
my entire body weight straining against the handle. It doesn’t budge. I kick at the seat in front of me and pull at my wrist. I headbutt the window beside me and scream as loud as I can.

  A dark car barrels out of the underground car park and reverses to a halt beside me. Zel jumps out of the car. He pulls his gun from his jacket and charges at me. He holds the butt of the gun away from the window and pauses.

  ‘Look away. Cover your face!’

  I do.

  My window shatters with a loud crunch. He goes to pull me through the window then realises I’m handcuffed. He tugs at the handle.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Hey!’ someone yells. It’s them coming back, guns drawn.

  Zel ducks, his gun pointing in the direction of the hotel. Zels rolls away from the car as Torney reaches the driver’s side door. I can’t see where Zel’s gone and Torney is already starting the engine. Smith dives into the seat beside me and we take off, our tyres squealing as we do a U-turn. Cars swerve out of our way and brake to let us through. Smith looks out the rear window, his gun still out.

  ‘He’s armed and he’s in pursuit,’ Smith warns.

  I’m pushed back into my seat as Torney accelerates. We move into the middle of the road, onto the tram tracks, and I brace myself for an accident as we run a red light and charge through the intersection. An oncoming tram dings its bell as we veer in front of it, then swerve out of its way. We’re all going to die.

  We reach King Street and Torney goes wide, again onto the tram tracks to get around the traffic. A car slams on its brakes to avoid hitting us and the car behind rear-ends it. The driver slams his fist onto his horn and leaves it there, blaring at us in protest.

  Our car is then hit from the rear left side, so hard we’re rammed across the intersection onto the wrong side of the road, into the path of a tram.

  Ding, ding, ding! it warns as we’re being thrust towards it.

  We smash into it hard and we are the only thing that gives. The driver’s airbag puffs out and smacks Torney in the face.