what he’d heard. A heartbeat later the leaves rustled, further away and then, thank all the gods in heaven, the noises stopped altogether.
Just an animal out for a walk, something furry and harmless, Marty told himself, sucking air between his teeth. If Rick was coming he’d be here by now; it had to be after four o’clock. How much longer should he wait? No sooner had this thought formed than Marty heard the unmistakeable crackle of sticks and leaves being crushed underfoot, and then the murmur of voices.
Rick broke through the screen of branches with Aaron close behind. When he spotted Marty he grinned. His eyes flicked to Marty’s strapped knee.
‘Geez, didn’t think you’d make it down here with that leg.’
Marty touched the elastic support bandage, no
longer white after he’d had to leave his chair and crawl through the last few metres of scrub to the billabong.
‘Aches a bit, but that’s not my biggest problem right now.’ He glanced at Aaron and nodded a greeting.
‘I’ve got some heavy-duty stuff to tell you guys.’ Frowning, Rick squatted on the bank and scooped
up a handful of stones. He weighed them in his hand and began, one by one, to throw them at the rusting VW. ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not gonna like this?’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t like it either.’ Marty picked up a rock and threw it. It hit the water with a deep PLUNK! A startled rustling sounded in the tree above.
‘You going to sit down, or have you got someplace else to be?’ he asked Aaron.
Aaron’s cheeks flushed pink. He shook his head. A hank of streaked hair flopped across one eye. He pushed it back and collapsed in a heap, his expression grim. ‘It’s got to do with him , hasn’t it?’
Marty nodded and picked up another rock. ‘He rang me on my mobile, on the way here. I haven’t even given you guys my number yet and somehow the ice-cream man has it.’ He suppressed a shudder and threw the rock as hard as he could. It missed the water entirely, landing on the far bank. Something in the undergrowth grunted and moved away.
Aaron and Rick sat in stunned silence. Their pale faces and gaping mouths reminded Marty of the clowns’ heads you have to plug with ping-pong balls at the show to win a prize. Under other circumstances, he would have laughed.
A crow dropped silently onto the roof of the VW and regarded them with sharp eyes. Most people would consider the crow’s appearance a bad omen, but not Marty. He respected the intelligence of crows. Any bird that could figure out how to flip over a cane toad and peck out its guts without getting poisoned was okay in his book.
‘Crud,’ Rick finally said.
Marty nodded. ‘With a capital “C”, mate.’
‘What did he say?’ Aaron’s tongue was going mental – lickety-lick, lickety-lick .
‘Not a lot really. Just wanted me to know he was enjoying making our lives a misery and that there’s nothing we can do about it.’
In a flurry of movement, the crow spread its wings and took to the sky.
‘We have to tell the police,’ Aaron said. ‘First the email, now this.’
‘What email?’ Marty demanded.
Aaron glanced at Rick. When Rick didn’t say anything he turned back to Marty. ‘Someone calling themselves the Grim Reaper sent me an email yesterday. There was a sound file attached. It was a recording of “Pop! Goes the Weasel”.’
Marty chewed his lip. ‘He called himself that when he rang me, too. Said he could do anything he wants ’cause he’s the Grim Reaper.’
‘We have to tell the police,’ Aaron insisted.
‘No, we can’t.’ Marty picked up a stick and began tearing at the bark. ‘The freak said that if the cops come anywhere near him he’ll really make us pay and I believe him. Hey, do you still have the email?’
‘No, I deleted it. Just the thought of having that on my computer gave me the creeps.’
‘Did you see the address?’
‘Yeah, Grim Reaper at something or other. It was one of those free email
Just an animal out for a walk, something furry and harmless, Marty told himself, sucking air between his teeth. If Rick was coming he’d be here by now; it had to be after four o’clock. How much longer should he wait? No sooner had this thought formed than Marty heard the unmistakeable crackle of sticks and leaves being crushed underfoot, and then the murmur of voices.
Rick broke through the screen of branches with Aaron close behind. When he spotted Marty he grinned. His eyes flicked to Marty’s strapped knee.
‘Geez, didn’t think you’d make it down here with that leg.’
Marty touched the elastic support bandage, no
longer white after he’d had to leave his chair and crawl through the last few metres of scrub to the billabong.
‘Aches a bit, but that’s not my biggest problem right now.’ He glanced at Aaron and nodded a greeting.
‘I’ve got some heavy-duty stuff to tell you guys.’ Frowning, Rick squatted on the bank and scooped
up a handful of stones. He weighed them in his hand and began, one by one, to throw them at the rusting VW. ‘Why do I get the feeling I’m not gonna like this?’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t like it either.’ Marty picked up a rock and threw it. It hit the water with a deep PLUNK! A startled rustling sounded in the tree above.
‘You going to sit down, or have you got someplace else to be?’ he asked Aaron.
Aaron’s cheeks flushed pink. He shook his head. A hank of streaked hair flopped across one eye. He pushed it back and collapsed in a heap, his expression grim. ‘It’s got to do with him , hasn’t it?’
Marty nodded and picked up another rock. ‘He rang me on my mobile, on the way here. I haven’t even given you guys my number yet and somehow the ice-cream man has it.’ He suppressed a shudder and threw the rock as hard as he could. It missed the water entirely, landing on the far bank. Something in the undergrowth grunted and moved away.
Aaron and Rick sat in stunned silence. Their pale faces and gaping mouths reminded Marty of the clowns’ heads you have to plug with ping-pong balls at the show to win a prize. Under other circumstances, he would have laughed.
A crow dropped silently onto the roof of the VW and regarded them with sharp eyes. Most people would consider the crow’s appearance a bad omen, but not Marty. He respected the intelligence of crows. Any bird that could figure out how to flip over a cane toad and peck out its guts without getting poisoned was okay in his book.
‘Crud,’ Rick finally said.
Marty nodded. ‘With a capital “C”, mate.’
‘What did he say?’ Aaron’s tongue was going mental – lickety-lick, lickety-lick .
‘Not a lot really. Just wanted me to know he was enjoying making our lives a misery and that there’s nothing we can do about it.’
In a flurry of movement, the crow spread its wings and took to the sky.
‘We have to tell the police,’ Aaron said. ‘First the email, now this.’
‘What email?’ Marty demanded.
Aaron glanced at Rick. When Rick didn’t say anything he turned back to Marty. ‘Someone calling themselves the Grim Reaper sent me an email yesterday. There was a sound file attached. It was a recording of “Pop! Goes the Weasel”.’
Marty chewed his lip. ‘He called himself that when he rang me, too. Said he could do anything he wants ’cause he’s the Grim Reaper.’
‘We have to tell the police,’ Aaron insisted.
‘No, we can’t.’ Marty picked up a stick and began tearing at the bark. ‘The freak said that if the cops come anywhere near him he’ll really make us pay and I believe him. Hey, do you still have the email?’
‘No, I deleted it. Just the thought of having that on my computer gave me the creeps.’
‘Did you see the address?’
‘Yeah, Grim Reaper at something or other. It was one of those free email
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