tracks, and never let your guard down.’
‘Yeah, you too.’
‘Can you also see if you’ve got any antiseptic cream and bandages lying around?’
‘It’s true?’ Boges shouted down the line in disbelief. ‘You were attacked by a lion? Unbelievable …’
I had to laugh. It was pretty crazy.
‘I’m OK, now,’ I said, thinking back to myrecovery in Repro’s lair. ‘Luckily I stumbled across a fugitive like me who was able to help me out. Just wait until you hear about the train incident.’
‘Why? Don’t tell me you hijacked a train?’
‘A train almost hijacked me!’ I said, before briefly describing the chase with Red Singlet.
‘I’m just at the front window now,’ Boges said, ‘and that silver sedan is there again. The driver is the same guy who was watching us at Memorial Park.’
I remembered the big boofhead and how I’d helped Boges get past him. I didn’t like the sound of him being on the job outside Boges’s place.
‘You have to keep them off your back, Boges.’ And mine, too, I thought. How long was it going to be like this? For the rest of the year? Like the crazy guy warned me?
‘Yep. I gotta go, but as soon as I can get under the radar,’ said Boges, ‘we can try and meet up. Where are you staying?’
‘I don’t know.’ I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, and turned away from a guy wheeling a box up to the back of a truck nearby. ‘I’ve gotta get out of this town, I’ll be safer if I do that. I think I’ve gotta start making my way to Great-uncle Bartholomew’s place in Mount Helicon. I don’t know what else to do. I’m going totry the St Johns place for now. Maybe see you soon?’
‘Absolutely.’
I walked around, restless, unhappy and wondering when and how I was going to get out of the city. I knew that Sligo’s people could be watching the bus depot again and rail travel was too expensive. Ages ago, Mum had made me promise I would never hitchhike, but sometimes rules have to be broken—especially when you’re living on the street.
Eventually I made my way back to the St Johns Street squat, keeping to the back lanes behind the city. Along the way, I followed old factory walls that were covered in layers of graffiti.
It wasn’t long before I saw it again.
For some reason, this tag really bothered me.I felt a strange connection to it. Maybe I should adopt it as my motto, I thought.
Before closing in on the squat, I circled it, checking out every street, approaching it and then doubling back, making sure no-one was following me, and making sure the old house itself was empty.
Inside the front garden, I crept past the windows, listening carefully while hiding in the dense, wild overgrowth. It sounded clear so I dropped to all fours and crawled through the bushes and under the rotting verandah.
From under the floorboards, I listened carefully again. I couldn’t hear a thing, so I breathed a big sigh of relief, pushed away the carpet off-cut and pulled myself up through the floorboards.
The place was empty, but someone, or a bunch of someones, had definitely been in there again. A fire had been made on a sheet of iron in the middle of the room and one of my chairs had been used for firewood; its charred remains made the room stink of old smoke. Part of the walls and ceiling were black.
When it was nearly dark, I dragged some of the rubbish out the back, down through the jungle of the backyard. A dark purple flower, one of a number on a vine that had spread over part of the fence, caught my attention. For some reason it reminded me of Winter Frey and her floaty skirt with the tiny bells, and how she’d just dissolved into moonlight that night at the Memorial. I stood there for a few moments, then went back inside.
Finally, with a little more room to move, I spread out my sleeping-bag, and tried to put the troublesome girl out of my mind.
5 MARCH
302 days to go …
The staccato sound of helicopters shuddered across the sky and I
‘Yeah, you too.’
‘Can you also see if you’ve got any antiseptic cream and bandages lying around?’
‘It’s true?’ Boges shouted down the line in disbelief. ‘You were attacked by a lion? Unbelievable …’
I had to laugh. It was pretty crazy.
‘I’m OK, now,’ I said, thinking back to myrecovery in Repro’s lair. ‘Luckily I stumbled across a fugitive like me who was able to help me out. Just wait until you hear about the train incident.’
‘Why? Don’t tell me you hijacked a train?’
‘A train almost hijacked me!’ I said, before briefly describing the chase with Red Singlet.
‘I’m just at the front window now,’ Boges said, ‘and that silver sedan is there again. The driver is the same guy who was watching us at Memorial Park.’
I remembered the big boofhead and how I’d helped Boges get past him. I didn’t like the sound of him being on the job outside Boges’s place.
‘You have to keep them off your back, Boges.’ And mine, too, I thought. How long was it going to be like this? For the rest of the year? Like the crazy guy warned me?
‘Yep. I gotta go, but as soon as I can get under the radar,’ said Boges, ‘we can try and meet up. Where are you staying?’
‘I don’t know.’ I ran my hands through my hair in frustration, and turned away from a guy wheeling a box up to the back of a truck nearby. ‘I’ve gotta get out of this town, I’ll be safer if I do that. I think I’ve gotta start making my way to Great-uncle Bartholomew’s place in Mount Helicon. I don’t know what else to do. I’m going totry the St Johns place for now. Maybe see you soon?’
‘Absolutely.’
I walked around, restless, unhappy and wondering when and how I was going to get out of the city. I knew that Sligo’s people could be watching the bus depot again and rail travel was too expensive. Ages ago, Mum had made me promise I would never hitchhike, but sometimes rules have to be broken—especially when you’re living on the street.
Eventually I made my way back to the St Johns Street squat, keeping to the back lanes behind the city. Along the way, I followed old factory walls that were covered in layers of graffiti.
It wasn’t long before I saw it again.
For some reason, this tag really bothered me.I felt a strange connection to it. Maybe I should adopt it as my motto, I thought.
Before closing in on the squat, I circled it, checking out every street, approaching it and then doubling back, making sure no-one was following me, and making sure the old house itself was empty.
Inside the front garden, I crept past the windows, listening carefully while hiding in the dense, wild overgrowth. It sounded clear so I dropped to all fours and crawled through the bushes and under the rotting verandah.
From under the floorboards, I listened carefully again. I couldn’t hear a thing, so I breathed a big sigh of relief, pushed away the carpet off-cut and pulled myself up through the floorboards.
The place was empty, but someone, or a bunch of someones, had definitely been in there again. A fire had been made on a sheet of iron in the middle of the room and one of my chairs had been used for firewood; its charred remains made the room stink of old smoke. Part of the walls and ceiling were black.
When it was nearly dark, I dragged some of the rubbish out the back, down through the jungle of the backyard. A dark purple flower, one of a number on a vine that had spread over part of the fence, caught my attention. For some reason it reminded me of Winter Frey and her floaty skirt with the tiny bells, and how she’d just dissolved into moonlight that night at the Memorial. I stood there for a few moments, then went back inside.
Finally, with a little more room to move, I spread out my sleeping-bag, and tried to put the troublesome girl out of my mind.
5 MARCH
302 days to go …
The staccato sound of helicopters shuddered across the sky and I
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