around the corner where a speeding truck had flipped into oncoming traffic and turned that stretch of road into a pagan symmetry of bodies and debris. Trying to avoid that chaos by ducking into the side street would deliver us to a bearded guy in fatigues spraying his automatic rifle at the body-snatchers he believed were taking over. My mind raced beyond these obstacles, through more streets and other suburbs. Even where there was no violence, roads were all but impassable. Drivers had stopped to stare into devices. Or stalled or smashed when they’d succumbed to the nothingness. Near or far, there was no way out. The clear strip of asphalt in my headlights might have been the last open road left in the city.
Evan was still screaming. Only now did I hear what he was saying.
‘Home!’
Home-home-home-home .
I’d stopped us outside Beautopia Point.
Back where we started. We were going home to die.
TEN
‘Not on my watch!’
Wasn’t that the sort of thing action-movie heroes always said? I swung the steering wheel and aimed the BMW back through Beautopia Point’s gates. The place had gone even further to hell. The Grocery’s banners were ablaze. Smoke billowed from Skybrook’s roof. Flames danced in Sunshower’s upper-floor windows.
I slowed as we approached Goldrise. Searched for Jacinta. Came up empty. Heard someone else.
I’m-coming-baby!
The woman let herself fall from the balcony of her penthouse apartment. Thinking about her husband. How horrible it’d been for him in that fireball. My foot went for the accelerator as she screamed into oblivion against the BMW’s bonnet. All at once the car bucked and metal buckled and the windshield imploded and the headlights died as her body bounced away into the darkness. I swallowed my scream as steam gushed from the ruptured front end.
Noisy-scary-Sleep-sleep-sleepy .
‘Evan!’
His eyes were closed and he shuddered in his child seat. My little brother was going down. Sucked under by so many souls circling in their own vortexes.
‘Evan!’
I shook his shoulder hard. He couldn’t hear me.
‘Please,’ I cried. ‘Don’t go.’
But he already had.
The car wasn’t going anywhere. I shoved open my door and staggered onto the road. Every panel was scraped and dented. Tail-lights smashed. Bumper and muffler prised loose. None of that mattered. What killed me was that my crashes had accordioned the boot so much I couldn’t get our supplies free. I fought the urge to scream. It wouldn’t help.
My mind returned to our house. Kieran had gone in when we’d driven out. When he saw Boris was alive he smashed the bully’s head with the vodka bottle. As much to have his revenge as to show minds out there that he was king of this castle. Seconds later Kieran realised he was just as vulnerable in our lounge room as he was out on the waterfront. None of the screens or stereos worked: there was no way to keep the minds out. But searching frantically for something— anything—paid off with the double jackpot of car keys and the forgotten .45. Now Kieran was backing Dad’s Mercedes out of the garage, determined to use the gun on anyone who tried to carjack him and yelling along with the Astral Projectors on the stereo.
But I was grateful to be in Kieran’s mind as he stole our car. That’s because as he reversed down our driveway, the Mercedes’ headlights lit on our possible salvation hanging on the garage wall. I waited until he’d roared past us and then yanked open the back passenger door.
‘Evan?’ I said softly.
No response. I took a moment to control my shaking and put my ear and hand to his nose and mouth to hear and feel his breath. Physically, my little brother was fine. Mentally, he was gone.
I grabbed my skateboard, set it down to the road. Unbuckled Evan’s child seat, hefted him out of the car and into a fireman’s carry. I planted one foot on my deck. It bent under our combined weight. But this was how we had to roll. I took the other
Evan was still screaming. Only now did I hear what he was saying.
‘Home!’
Home-home-home-home .
I’d stopped us outside Beautopia Point.
Back where we started. We were going home to die.
TEN
‘Not on my watch!’
Wasn’t that the sort of thing action-movie heroes always said? I swung the steering wheel and aimed the BMW back through Beautopia Point’s gates. The place had gone even further to hell. The Grocery’s banners were ablaze. Smoke billowed from Skybrook’s roof. Flames danced in Sunshower’s upper-floor windows.
I slowed as we approached Goldrise. Searched for Jacinta. Came up empty. Heard someone else.
I’m-coming-baby!
The woman let herself fall from the balcony of her penthouse apartment. Thinking about her husband. How horrible it’d been for him in that fireball. My foot went for the accelerator as she screamed into oblivion against the BMW’s bonnet. All at once the car bucked and metal buckled and the windshield imploded and the headlights died as her body bounced away into the darkness. I swallowed my scream as steam gushed from the ruptured front end.
Noisy-scary-Sleep-sleep-sleepy .
‘Evan!’
His eyes were closed and he shuddered in his child seat. My little brother was going down. Sucked under by so many souls circling in their own vortexes.
‘Evan!’
I shook his shoulder hard. He couldn’t hear me.
‘Please,’ I cried. ‘Don’t go.’
But he already had.
The car wasn’t going anywhere. I shoved open my door and staggered onto the road. Every panel was scraped and dented. Tail-lights smashed. Bumper and muffler prised loose. None of that mattered. What killed me was that my crashes had accordioned the boot so much I couldn’t get our supplies free. I fought the urge to scream. It wouldn’t help.
My mind returned to our house. Kieran had gone in when we’d driven out. When he saw Boris was alive he smashed the bully’s head with the vodka bottle. As much to have his revenge as to show minds out there that he was king of this castle. Seconds later Kieran realised he was just as vulnerable in our lounge room as he was out on the waterfront. None of the screens or stereos worked: there was no way to keep the minds out. But searching frantically for something— anything—paid off with the double jackpot of car keys and the forgotten .45. Now Kieran was backing Dad’s Mercedes out of the garage, determined to use the gun on anyone who tried to carjack him and yelling along with the Astral Projectors on the stereo.
But I was grateful to be in Kieran’s mind as he stole our car. That’s because as he reversed down our driveway, the Mercedes’ headlights lit on our possible salvation hanging on the garage wall. I waited until he’d roared past us and then yanked open the back passenger door.
‘Evan?’ I said softly.
No response. I took a moment to control my shaking and put my ear and hand to his nose and mouth to hear and feel his breath. Physically, my little brother was fine. Mentally, he was gone.
I grabbed my skateboard, set it down to the road. Unbuckled Evan’s child seat, hefted him out of the car and into a fireman’s carry. I planted one foot on my deck. It bent under our combined weight. But this was how we had to roll. I took the other
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