Vanished by James Delargy (best books to read in life txt) 📗

Lorcan laughed. ‘Why don’t we just bake them a pie like good neighbours do?’

She ignored his mocking. She was determined to go through with this.

‘We’ll leave a note written from all of us, to show them that we’re harmless.’

She put the paper in front of Dylan who scrawled his signature, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration, the amateurish style of the note enhancing the non-threatening nature of it.

‘I don’t know if this—’

‘We don’t want to just walk up to their doorstep, do we? A note is best. Some form of pre-emptive communication. They obviously know we’re here, they just don’t know that we know.’

Lorcan sighed. ‘As long as we aren’t in town after. We’ll watch from a safe distance and see what they do.’

LORCAN

Lorcan left the note pinned to the cupboard. Although wary of this plan he didn’t have an alternative. Other than running. Which he still considered the best option.

They then drove out of Kallayee, on to the small hill that overlooked the town, parking behind some trees, obscured from view as the sun went down.

When Dylan had asked what they were doing he had told him that they were stargazing. And in fact, the clear night and arrangement of stars took his mind off what was going to take place below.

But as the night pushed on, his focus turned from the sky to the tunnel to his own house, expecting to see it ransacked or go up in flames. The best-case scenario was that the miners got spooked and fled. But why would they? To them they were the intruders. And if they burnt the house down? Maybe that would be for the best. It would mean Nee had to agree to leave.

At eleven, the men rolled into town, lights off, just a shadow crawling along the street. They alighted as before. Lorcan waited for the explosion of movement. He didn’t have to wait long. The flailing torches and hurried exit from the building were a huge contrast to the military precision he had witnessed previously, suggesting discovery of the note. From this distance he couldn’t hear anything, but the waved arms and furious pacing indicated alarm. And that was troubling. Riling up the neighbours was a bad idea. Especially if you didn’t know them. And they had access to tunnels to bury you in.

Lorcan glanced over as his wife and son slept in the passenger seats. He wondered how she could be so at peace with this.

57

Lorcan

He had watched the men intently as they eventually returned to the tunnel. He forced himself to stay awake through the small hours before finally, just before dawn, the men had reappeared and left as normal.

He watched the sun cast a warming yellow glow over the buildings, his eyes closing, nervous energy replaced by lethargy. It was over, time to shut down for a while. His eyelids felt like stone.

‘Are you going to check?’

It was Nee’s voice, speaking in a whisper. For a second he convinced himself it was a dream but the hand on his leg shook him back to full consciousness.

‘Why me?’ he said in a forceful whisper.

‘I thought—’

‘You can think again. It was your idea.’

He watched her try and come up with a reason not to. And fail. He had won the argument. But as she crawled into her jacket and left the ute, he felt like a coward. But it didn’t make him call her back.

He watched as she scrambled down the hill and back into town, tracking her progress all the way. He waited for the surprise attack. That somehow one of the men had stayed behind. He wondered what he would do in that instance, convincing himself that he would help but also recognizing that the presence of forethought revealed his true nature.

She entered the tunnel house and disappeared. His toes itched to move, to start a chain reaction that would force him out of the ute and down to help her, but the rest of his weary body refused to comply. He stared at the building, willing her to come back out.

A head appeared from the door. Then a body. His wife, waving at them. Lorcan allowed himself a breath but didn’t move for another full minute, making sure it wasn’t a wave indicating trouble.

Easing down the hill, he pulled up outside the tunnel house. The bumpy descent had woken Dylan. Naiyana got into the vehicle and held up the note. There was writing scribbled below theirs.

‘They want to meet. Here. Tonight,’ she explained.

‘Why not somewhere more public?’ asked Lorcan. ‘Like Hurton. It shows they have something to hide.’

‘We know that already,’ said Naiyana. ‘We’re all hiding.’

‘But if we meet them here, what would stop them from killing us?’

‘They could have killed us anytime in the last ten days.’

Lorcan shook his head but knew when he was beaten. ‘I preferred it when you were cynical.’

58

Lorcan

Not much got done during the day. How could it with the meeting hanging over their heads? Like a date with the electric chair. Lorcan fiddled with constructing a box bed for Dylan – they were hoping that it would help him sleep better – and when the pressure inside the house grew too much, he had tinkered with the ute. Checking the oil, water and tyres. Just in case they needed to leave in a hurry. He had all but given up on the well, at least until a time they might be alone in town again. But Kallayee as a permanent residence was looking less and less appealing. Too crowded.

His final act was to load the rifle, making sure the coast was clear before going to their bedroom and reaching high up into the space between the eaves and the wall and pulling it down. He didn’t want to be fiddling around with shells if the time came.

Dinner was unappetizing, the conversation stilted. Nine p.m. rolled around. Meeting time. At the crossroads like