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Authors: Leah Giarratano

Tags: #Young Adult Fantasy

Disharmony (14 page)

BOOK: Disharmony
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Sam tried to calm her racing thoughts. Maybe we can talk this out? Give them money? Find out what they need?

Mirela took a step to her right towards a garbage bin. She rummaged through it, came up with a beer bottle. Held it, ready. Sam put her fingers to her mouth and gave out three sharp whistles. Hanzi, Luca and Tamas were in town today. If they heard the whistles they’d come. Other gypsies might also follow the sound.

Scarface caught her eye and smiled. And then everything happened at once. His right hand flashed up across his chest and suddenly, in his hand, silver and shivering, was a four-foot-long sword. He opened his ruined mouth, shrieked, and sprinted straight for them.

When the tattooed strangers had first skidded around the
corner, nearby tourists and shoppers stopped and stared. A couple hurried their two children from the sidewalk and into a shop. Two elderly Romanian men, playing cards at a table outside a cafe, glanced up indignantly, offended by the ruckus during their lunchtime ritual. A battered hire car screeched to the kerb, front doors flying open, and a couple of backpackers scrambled out, phones pointed at the action, recording the scene.

But when Scarface drew the huge sword, the street erupted. Everywhere, people screamed and ran. Car horns honked and shopkeepers ran out onto the road to shout and watch.

Scarface and his friends ran straight for them. Samantha froze. Mirela screamed.

Birthday Jones dragged Samantha into the street, pushing her down behind a parked car; Mirela huddled in next to her. Birthday stepped in front of them, the pole from the squat held high. Samantha could
feel
fear pouring from him like kerosene fumes from the old heater at home. But now, dropping from shop awnings, running from doorways and ducking out from behind parked cars, street kids, gypsy and Romanian, abruptly surrounded them. They were everywhere: climbing up onto the car bonnet and roof, armed with rocks and bottles, they pelted the tattooed attackers who were now almost upon them.

All of a sudden, into the middle of the chaos, spilling out of the alley across the road, four Nordic jocks wielding wooden posts came running at Birthday Jones, shouting obscenities. They hit the hail of rocks and bottles and became even more enraged.

And then they saw the ninjas. A little too late.

Samantha moaned as the tattooed ninjas mowed down all four of the blond giants with blurred flicks of the nunchuks. Then they turned on the street kids, sending them flying. Samantha watched in terror as Birthday’s pole swung and connected with a tattooed shoulder. Off-balance, the warrior flicked the jointed black bludgeon, catching Birthday in the chest. Her best friend dropped to the road.

Mirela screamed again. Samantha, tears streaming, stood up from behind the car.

‘STOP!’ she yelled as loudly as she could. She stepped into the street and faced Scarface. For the third time, he smiled at her. She followed his obsidian eyes into his mind, searching for mercy. She found murder, torture, death.

A silver Mercedes sports car screeched around the corner into the street, mounting the gutter and taking out the table at which the old men had been playing cards just moments before. Scarface reached out and gripped Sam painfully by the bicep. He dragged her, dry-mouthed and sweating, towards the car. She felt completely numb, powerless, gummy with apathy and defeat.

Just as they reached the black-windowed vehicle, Samantha registered faintly the sound of glass breaking. She turned her head to see Mirela launch herself onto Scarface, stabbing with a broken bottle at his neck and shoulders.

Using the elbow of the arm holding his sword, the tattooed man jabbed, hard, with his elbow and Mirela smacked to the ground.

Still gripping Samantha tightly, Scarface cast his eyes to where Mirela lay, unmoving. Blood pulsed and drizzled from several puncture wounds in his neck and shoulder. Samantha watched, mesmerised, as it formed a ruby road, snaking its
way across a snarling, forked-tongue devil tattoo and then down over his unmarked hand, onto his sword. Samantha knew that he too watched the blood. She
felt
his arousal, his delight, his insatiable craving for more blood. He lazily swirled the tip of the sword over Mirela’s unconscious body.

Samantha felt a flood of love for her friend that was so powerful her knees buckled. Scarface yanked her upright, but she barely noticed. Rushing through every cell in her body ran a liquid energy, golden and sweet like honey. It shot tingles from the very centre of her heart out through her extremities. She’d never before felt anything like it.

Scarface loosened his grip.

‘Please,’ she begged, her eyes locking with his. ‘
Please
, don’t hurt her.’

The stench of his violent hate suddenly became less rancid in her nose and mouth. His sword dropped to his side. Without knowing what she was doing, she sent more of the honeyed light through her skin and watched her captor’s face. The hard angles slackened and he stared at her, amazed. His grip loosened further.

She heard sirens, but she knew they’d be too late. The street was already littered with bodies, moaning or out cold. Bystanders brave enough to remain in the open stood, hands over their mouths, watching as she was herded towards the car.

Tensing carefully, she tested Scarface’s grip on her arm and found it tentative, almost gentle. She looked up again into his face, and this time his eyes reflected light and he actually
saw
her. For some reason she knew that if she ran now he’d let her go. She turned her head slowly, trying to spot a place to run to, to hide. She readied herself to break free. She figured
that with the police on the way she could run until someone stopped her – the goodies or the baddies. It had to be better than getting into that car.

And then the rear door of the Mercedes cracked open and a girl stepped out.

‘Kirra,’ whispered Scarface, as though beginning a prayer. The warm-glow thing winked out instantly.

And Samantha knew she had no chance.

The girl seemed clad in a black rubber membrane. Toe to throat, she wore a single skin-like sheath that slicked across lean limbs and muscles. She wore a high, shiny-black ponytail, a filigreed-blossom tattoo on her neck, and a smile like nuclear waste. Samantha’s first thought was to wonder whether they might be the same age; her second was to decide that she had never seen a more beautiful girl. Her third thought tore at her heart: who or what had created a creature so completely devoid of human feeling?

The buzz-cut boys flanked her now and she knew that she was going to be forced into the Mercedes. The girl Scarface had called Kirra stalked around to the passenger side of the car and Scarface shoved Sam forward. Where will they take me? I’m never going to see my family again! Am I going to end up like Belinda – stolen and shipped off to Russia, owned by the mafia? Did the gypsy king send these people? Am I going to die? The thoughts scudded through her mind like debris caught up in a hurricane.

They reached the car and Scarface thrust her towards the back seat. A frantic terror gripped her and she struggled, jamming her feet against the doorframe, screaming.

And that’s when the shooting started.

The first bullet caught Scarface. She
felt
the pain of
the impact rip through his body like a lightning strike; the remnants of the fiery energy zapped out through his skin and into hers. He dropped her. And the sword.

‘Samantha! Run!’

She bolted towards the voice, all senses on fire. Gunshots continued to crack and whistle around her. Sirens were screaming now and she thought she might be too, but she couldn’t be sure.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a dark blur of movement and made the mistake of glancing back towards the car. Kirra had launched herself up and over the roof of the Mercedes, hitting the road in a crouch. And then, in the second it took Samantha to swallow, the cat-girl sprang from squat into flat-out sprint. Samantha pushed even harder. Ahead of her, Birthday Jones and Mirela waved frantically at her from behind a car.

More gunshots. Samantha reached her friends at the same time as police cars tore into the street. She risked a quick glance behind her. Scarface and the ninjas were no longer on the road. But Kirra stood there, a sliver of midnight that had somehow pierced its way into the sunshine. She met Samantha’s eyes and hissed, then turned and sprinted back towards the Mercedes.

Birthday Jones dragged her forward. Ahead of them Fonso and two other kids held up a grate in the gutter.

Birthday pushed her through the hole and down into the sewer.

Dwight Juvenile Justice Detention Centre, Sydney, Australia
June 29, 7.28 a.m.

When he opened his eyes Luke found – half-surprised, as he always was – that he’d survived the night after all, and in the shower block before breakfast he realised that he felt better than he had in the past couple of days. Whatever had caused that pain in his head last night seemed to have left him alone this morning. And what with the silent lockdown on all dorms and most of the staff out looking for the escapee, he’d slept like a dead person. Right now, though, he couldn’t wait for a chance to talk to Nguyen about their freaky new friend, Abrafo. Last night seemed like a dream, and he needed to know what the hell had happened in there.

Turned out, he’d have to wait until after breakfast. The screws in the dining hall maintained the silence rule throughout the meal. Although no one told them anything, it wasn’t difficult to guess that they hadn’t caught Abrafo overnight. Anyone could see from their worried glances and huddled whispers that they were freaking out about having lost an inmate. Curiosity steamed from the boys at the hushed tables, whiting-out the windows of the hall, fogging them in from the icy morning outside.

Luke absently kicked a foot against his chair, itching to leave the room. Zac seemed to be deliberately avoiding his eyes. He fiddled with a single-serve packet of strawberry jam, flicking the foil lid back and forth, praying that the screws would allow them out to the oval for a run. He glanced up with the clatter of a bowl on a table across the hall to find Toad watching him, brows lowered, top lip pulled back in a sneer. Toad indicated with his chin that his plate was empty, and then pointed his eyes deliberately down to the slice of uneaten toast on Luke’s plate. The other boys watched the silent interaction. You got pretty good at speaking without words when you were in Dorm Four. Holt kept them in silence half the time they were awake.

Luke raised his own brows and made a little O with his mouth. He dropped his eyes to his plate and then cast them over to Toad’s. Smiling, he picked up his piece of toast and turned it over a couple of times, studying it. Finally, he shrugged and took a quick look around the room for the screws. No one close. He raised the toast to his mouth. He opened wide and took a big lick, front and back. He stretched his arm across the table with his offering, his expression kind, warm:
Do you want this, Toad?
He let the bread drop back onto his plate. Kitkat and Jonas did a poor job of trying to muffle their laughter and Mr Singh headed their way.

When breakfast was over, Luke sighed with relief when Singh ordered them all into their lines to march up the steep hill to the ovals. He watched Zac’s back all the way up there, replaying that flying kick from last night. How the hell did this skinny kid get himself up that high? There were a lot of things he wanted to know about Nguyen.

It was freezing. When they reached the oval, for once
everyone in Dorm Four stamped impatiently to begin the run. There was no sign of any sun again today, and with the gunmetal grey cloud low overhead, it felt as though dawn hadn’t yet broken. But even Toad seemed wide awake, rubbing his big red hands together for warmth, looking back over his shoulder at Singh, waiting for him to signal them to start. Everyone wanted a chance to find out more about the kid who’d escaped.

Singh’s whistle split the air and they were off. From the front of the pack, Zac took three bounding strides, and despite Luke being ready for the move, he had to flat-out sprint to catch him. He lunged forward and grabbed a fistful of Zac’s sweatshirt.

‘Not so fast, superman,’ he said. ‘You’re running with me this morning.’

Zac flicked a glance back at him. ‘You call what you do running?’ he said. He pointed with his chin. Luke saw Jonas, Kitkat and Barry jostling to catch them up. ‘Well, unless you want the rest of your girlfriends joining us, maybe you could at least make it a little more than a walk this morning?’

Luke put on a burst and ran with Zac, trying to match him, stride for stride. The freezing air burned through his lungs and his cold calf muscles cramped. He faltered, and Zac, springing along beside him, smirked, lifted an eyebrow. Luke pushed through the spasm. He and Zac were a quarter of the oval clear of the next runner.

‘What the hell … happened last night?’ gasped Luke.

‘What do you mean?’ said Zac.

‘Abrafo,’ said Luke.

‘Yes?’ said Zac.

‘How do you know him?’

‘We go way back.’

‘Why did you fight?’

Trying to breathe as he ran, Luke had to keep his sentences brief. Nguyen seemed to be strolling, but Luke only ran this fast during police chases. The stilted conversation frustrated the hell out of him. He wanted to know more right now.

‘It’s complicated,’ said Zac.

‘Aaarrgh! Well, what happened at the end there?’

Luke held his side as he ran. He had a stitch, but he wasn’t about to slow down now. ‘Why did you tell me to move?’

‘Abrafo was going to kill you.’

Luke faltered, then kicked it up again as Zac ran ahead of him.

‘He doesn’t even know me,’ he shouted at Zac’s back.

‘He knows you.’

Luke could just hear the words. He pushed harder to catch up. ‘I’ve never seen him before in my life,’ he managed.

Zac just ran.

‘He didn’t even know my name,’ said Luke.

Nothing.

‘He called me Lucifer,’ Luke tried again.

‘Maybe that’s your name,’ said Zac, putting on another burst.

Luke reached forward and grabbed Zac’s arm, wrenching it backwards, slowing him. ‘I don’t know what your problem is, Nguyen,’ he gasped. ‘But I want to know what the hell you and that freak are talking about.’

Zac stopped, faced Luke and looked him in the eye. They’d reached the goalposts and Travis was almost within hearing distance. Luke sucked in air while Zac spoke calmly, giving no sign that he’d been running.

‘Later,’ he said. ‘This is not the time. When we get to the woods, just step off the track and run for the trees.’

He began to jog again.

‘Are you mad?’ said Luke, stumbling along behind him. ‘Singh will put us in segro for a month.’

‘Just follow me,’ said Zac, over his shoulder. ‘And try to actually run, would you, you girl. I don’t know how you people get anywhere.’

Luke concentrated on trying to keep up, but it was impossible. Nguyen ran so fast he had no time to think about what was going to happen next. Travis Roberts now ran at his side. Luke kept his face averted – he didn’t want to have to answer anyone’s questions. Everyone knew that he and Zac were there when the new guy took off and Travis would want the lowdown.

The wooded area that flanked the oval was just ahead of Zac now. Luke glanced back towards the start line and saw Singh standing at attention, watching them all closely. Luke would bet his lock pick that all the screws had been told to make extra sure that no one was out of sight for a single second today. They’d have to call the police to find Abrafo this morning. He’d be long gone. And that would not go well for the screws. And if the media learned of the escape … He figured that Ms McNichol had better have plenty of maternity leave and a great union rep, or she’d be in the unemployment queue as soon as she’d popped out McNichol Junior.

With each step he took, he became even more certain that there was just no way they could run from the oval into the bush without Singh spotting them immediately and sending someone after them. Whatever. Luke figured he’d get at least five to eight minutes to question Nguyen, and later he might
be able to talk his way out of being sent to segro. Yeah, right. He sighed. He did not need this. He didn’t need anyone. He’d had this place sorted before Zac showed up. He decided that he did not like this feeling at all – needing someone. The way he remembered it, he’d given up on that idea when he was two.

Luke watched the mist from the morning-wet soil swirling around Zac’s shoes as he ran. It only heightened the illusion that his feet didn’t even touch the ground. Zac was parallel to the woods now, and Luke put on an extra spurt to try to catch up. Zac had told him to stay close. At the same time he knew the plan was hopeless, and he felt vaguely disappointed.

It looked as though Zac was just going to keep running anyway. Of course he’s not going to try it, he thought. There’s no bloody point.

And then Zac disappeared.

Luke stumbled, but Travis ran on, breathing hard, running in sync with him. He didn’t seem to have noticed anything at all, which was bizarre, as Zac had been the only person ahead of them. What the hell? That kid is seriously fast, he thought. I must have only blinked and he was gone. Oh well. No way I can run like that. Nevertheless, he tried to draw even deeper breaths, ready to give it a go.

He and Travis hit the spot. Now or never, he thought, and bolted to the right, straight for the trees. He was sure that Travis would yell out in surprise, or at least stop and watch, but to his credit, Roberts did nothing. He just ran on as though nothing at all had happened. Good on him, thought Luke. That’ll give us a little more time at least.

The ground was much wetter off the track and boggy patches sucked at his feet as he sprinted. He felt freezing
water slosh over the rim of his sneakers; his shoes squelched with each step. Great.

He reached the first of the grey eucalyptus trees, sentinels guarding the entry to this patch of woodland. He’d never been this far off the running track, and he was already way out of bounds.

Where’s Zac? he wondered, slowing as he passed the first of the dripping trees.

In here, the dim morning light was even weaker. Just beyond the first edge of the wood, it became pretty much dark. He stepped cautiously in the gloom, listening carefully, leaves and branches moving wetly underfoot. The trees huddled together in the winter fog, and Luke could hear nothing but his footsteps, his breathing, slowing now, and the blood still pounding in his ears. The sounds of the others on the oval had vanished completely.

‘Nguyen,’ he whispered. ‘You in here?’

Nothing. Great. Where the hell is he?

‘Zac?’ he tried again. Louder now.

‘In here.’

The voice came from deeper in the wood and Luke frowned, annoyed. Any minute now Singh would notice them missing.

The events of last night were replaying in his mind, itching at his subconscious.

Nothing had seemed right from the moment Abrafo had walked into the Admin building, but it was obvious that Zac knew more about it than he did. And Luke did not like that. He made it his mission to understand everything he could about every environment he was thrown into. Until last night, Dwight had been predictable and was about as safe as
anywhere else he could remember living. But now there was something he didn’t understand. He trudged further into the woods.

The air was frigid and he picked his way forward through mist and the steam of his breath. A deep, musty smell wafted up from the sodden soil and leaf matter.

‘Nguyen?’ he called.

‘Yep. Right here.’

Zac was crouched at the base of a tree, grinning. ‘These are those mushrooms I was telling you about,’ he said. ‘The Yellow Stainers. Here. Put these in your pocket, but whatever you do, don’t put your hands near your mouth until you wash.’

Luke stared. ‘You said you found these when we were out running the other day. Have you been in here before?’

Zac grinned and raised his eyebrows.

‘You’re a weird one, Nguyen,’ said Luke, holding out his hand and pocketing the mushrooms. They looked just like the mushrooms he’d seen in the shops. Whatever.

‘Who is Abrafo?’ he said.

‘Um, a bad guy,’ said Zac, squatting again.

In the gloom, Luke couldn’t see his face.

‘Why did he call me Lucifer?’ he said.

‘I don’t know. Do you?’ said Zac.

‘Um, hello. Why would I ask you if I knew that?’ Luke shook his head. ‘Why were you fighting him?’

‘To protect you,’ said Zac, looking up. The skin of his face seemed to glow, but his dark hair and eyes were like pockets of the forest.

‘Protect me? Why? What are you talking about?’

Zac shrugged and stood. ‘It’s why I’m here,’ he said.

Zac was a head shorter than Luke, and thin as a rake, but
Luke had seen him fight. He didn’t mind that this kid was on his side, but he sure as hell had no idea why Zac would want to protect him. What was the catch? No one did something for nothing.

‘What are you talking about, Nguyen? You told me you were locked up because of an assault charge.’

‘Yep.’

‘Well, who did you assault?’

‘Zecko Sevic.’

‘What! My case worker? How the hell do you know him? Why did you assault him?’

‘He was going to come after you again. That’s when the Council decided they needed to send someone in to protect you. I guess, though, after Zecko’s run-in with me, your enemies finally figured that he wasn’t going to get the job done. So they sent in Abrafo.’

Luke forgot about Singh and the others running on the oval. He forgot about the fact that he was standing in a freezing, boggy wood in winter. He sat down in the grass and put his head in his hands.

‘What are you
talking
about, Nguyen?’ he said through his fingers.

‘Well, don’t you ever wonder why you’re always getting hammered, Luke?’ said Zac, standing above him.

‘Not really,’ said Luke. ‘That’s life.’

‘Yeah, maybe. But you attract more than your fair share of haters, wouldn’t you say?’

Luke felt water seeping in through his tracksuit pants. He stood quickly, brushing at his backside, frowning.

‘Well, yeah, I guess so. Especially lately,’ he said. ‘But what have you got to do with it?’

‘They don’t tell me a lot,’ said Zac. ‘I’m kind of new at this.’

‘What are you new at? Being a bodyguard for kids in lockup?’ Luke shuffled in the grass, freezing now that his bum was wet. ‘And who’s they? Who’s this Council that told you to protect me?’

‘You don’t know them,’ said Zac.

‘Well, how do they know me?’

‘They’ve never met you either. But there are some people out there who want to help you.’

BOOK: Disharmony
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