Lifespan of Starlight (26 page)

I
’M HALFWAY UP
the fence before I know what I’m doing, the wire rocking and clanging as the
others climb beside me. A whimper from Echo as she lands is our only sound, because
what words are there?

Already she’s scrambling down the slope ahead of me. Sprinting now. Somehow, I manage
to stay close, faster than Boc. All I can think is that I have to be there when she
reaches Amon, to save her somehow from what she’s about to find.

We race past Mason staring dumbly at the trolley, his arms hanging limp at his sides.
The maintenance worker is on the other side of the tracks, about twenty metres away
by now, swiping frantically at a compad, no doubt calling for backup.

We reach the circle of red but Echo doesn’t hesitate, our steps crunching wet over
soil soaked with blood. A leap onto the trolley and to a sudden stop; momentum threatens
to carry me forwards, but my knees absorb the shock. My heart is choking.

I’m still trying to make sense of the figure slumped at our feet
when Echo gasps
and spins away, palms over her eyes. Already I’m with her, holding her tight, a hand
at the back of her neck, feeling her jerk with each sob. We’re pushed so close that
I’m rocked by each shudder, accepting the emotion into my body. I’d take it all if
I could.

Slowly, my eyes track to the figure at our feet. Amon’s torso is slumped forwards,
arms pinned at an angle that is so wrong, his skin pale in the morning light. It
shouldn’t be that colour, a strange ashen grey. Where are Amon’s legs? Meshed around
the base of the trolley? Only when I close my eyes do I realise that they’re brimmed
with tears.

My eyes open to find the day growing around us, the sunlight strengthening. Hasn’t
the world stopped?

Echo is quiet now, empty. I guide her down from the trolley. Don’t glance down, don’t
think about what we’re stepping on.

‘Stay where you are,’ the maintenance worker calls, his voice shrill and uncertain.
He’s on the phone on his compad, receiving instructions.

Boc is waiting with Mason; he reaches out for Echo and encloses her in a hug before
turning to me, hand lifting with palm up.
What do we do?

But I can’t look at him now, can’t respond. Instead I blink at the compad and try
to find some sort of focus, a way to cut through this chaos. Already the maintenance
worker has triggered an emergency alert, tagging all of us.
Dangerous suspects
. Ambulance.
Police. Everyone’s coming.

What are we going to do?

Mason’s face says it all, dust streaked with wet lines, his forehead tight with pain.
‘I told him to jump. He didn’t even realise … I’m not sure –’

‘It’s okay,’ I say, even though nothing is okay. ‘An ambulance is coming,’ I add,
falling quiet with the emptiness of the words. Can’t help checking Echo. She’s looking
at me but I don’t think she’s focusing.

The worker is holding an arm out straight, a warning for us to stay back, clutching
his compad in the other hand.

Still, Echo is watching me, vague and confused. ‘What’s that sound?’

From all around us comes a pulsing rumble. ‘Drones,’ Boc calls, just as Mason points
to three cars approaching from behind the maintenance worker.

‘Oh crap, it’s the Feds,’ breathes Boc.

They’re parked before I can even step back, people in black padded uniforms emerging,
already coming at us. How did they get here so fast?

‘Hands behind your heads! Stay where you are!’

Five or six of the officers advance towards us with pistols aimed, visors masking
their faces. One of them holds a compad, checking the grid and shouting orders at
the others. Their sheer speed and efficiency send my heart racing.

‘Hands behind your heads!’ shouts the officer with the compad.

He points to Mason. ‘You! On the ground! Face down!’

Mason steps back, too stunned to respond, his face tight with fear. I’ve never seen
anyone so scared.

Still the Feds move towards us. ‘Mason,’ I whisper. Because, what are we going to
do?

He blinks, before turning to me. ‘Midnight,’ he breathes. Then,‘Midnight?’

A glance at the officers is the only response I can manage, too scared to speak.
I turn to make sure the others heard as Mason drops to his knees, and then lies on
his stomach. One of the officers rushes forwards and cuffs his wrists behind him;
he’s so helpless now that all he can do is turn his head to me. He raises his eyebrows.

So I nod, slowly at first then faster and faster.
Yes, I understand
.

His head turns away.

Then he’s gone. Just his clothes remain as if laid out ready for a new day, the cuffs
resting neatly on the shorts.

All is still around us.

Two of the officers step back and turn to each other. The one with the compad pulls
up his visor, his eyes tracing over the space where Mason used to be.

We could run,
I think in a flash. But I’m not thinking straight; I’m thinking like
someone who can’t skip.

‘Don’t MOVE! Stay where you ARE!’ the officer barks at us, his words even sharper,
even more urgent than before.

Somehow it brings the other officers back, their pistols aim fresh, the attention
on us all but centred on Boc. The stakes are higher now, and my heart races faster.

Once glance sideways, and I know. Boc’s gone in a blink, his clothes falling where
he stood.

Shock doesn’t win us any time the way it did with Mason. The circle shrinks around
us, the steps ever closer.

‘Stay where you are! I said, no moving! Stay WHERE YOU ARE!’ The main officer’s fear
makes him somehow more terrifying.

Echo makes a squeak, her eyes wide, and drops away.

Still they come at me, still yelling. My hands are shaking. I push out a breath and
find the place where all is calm.

Just let go.

It’s dark, but there’s a half moon, so it’s not completely black. The air is still
and cool around me. Sharp twigs and dirt at my feet. No clothes, but even worse,
my compad is gone. The rush is quickly chased by a hard return to reality.

Mason’s here already, his skin pale in the moonlight as he brushes loose soil from
his knees and palms. Boc and Echo return within seconds of each other, their chests
lifting and falling in time.

Echo’s gaze lifts towards the rail tracks and we all turn in silence. Police tape
encloses the area but nothing remains. The air feels heavy with absence.

‘You okay?’ I ask Mason.

‘Yeah.’ He closes his eyes, still adjusting. Remembering, maybe.

‘Let’s go,’ mutters Boc. ‘We don’t have much time.’

In silence we make our way up the slope, numbly following
behind. For some reason
our overnight bags are still where we stashed them, under the picnic table, so we
share out a mishmash of clothes, tops for the girls, bottoms for the boys, and begin
our way across the park.

Only four of us are returning the way we came; there should be five.

‘Want me to take you home?’ I ask Echo gently.

‘No. Not yet.’ Her voice is tight, her movements contained.

It gives me the sense that she wants to be alone, so I pull back and fall in beside
Mason. He jerks his chin my way, a sad sort of welcome. So I stick by his side, matching
my strides with his. Without really thinking what I’m doing I rest a hand on his
shoulder, offering comfort, or perhaps asking for some.

He glances my way briefly as his other hand lifts to rest on mine, trapping my fingers
the way he did when we first time skipped together.

We stay that way only a few strides before Mason lifts my hand from his shoulder,
guiding it down so that his other hand can close around it. His grip is firm, warm.
Maybe, in some other world, I might have wondered what it could mean, begun hoping
about a future together. But life now exists for us only in terms of minutes ahead.
How long until we hear that pulsing throb return. How long until we’re discovered
again.

After a while our grip shifts at the same time, loosening only enough for our fingers
to interlace, hands locked even firmer.

No idea what the future holds, but for now we’re never letting go.

Boc finds a way in to the rock-climbing centre from a side entrance. Pretty sure
he’s done this before. The comscreen at reception flickers to life and Mason settles
in, a sense of urgency growing now that we have access to the grid.

Echo finds a space on the floor and slumps with her back against a wall, not focusing
on much. It makes me wonder which nightmare keeps playing in her mind, the one she
just lived through or the one she’ll have to face when she sees her parents. I’m
beginning to realise why she’s in no hurry to go home.

I find a spare chair in a back room and wheel it out to Mason. Boc stands to see
over his other shoulder.

Already Mason has the grid on the screen. We all lean forwards at the same time.
Little orange circles rim each of our dots.
Wanted for questioning
comes up when
Mason hovers the cursor over my dot. Same for Echo and Boc.

When it hovers over Mason’s dot though, all air leaves my chest.
Arrest warrant
.

I’m out of the chair and across the room, biting my lip as I check out the entrance
doors. No approaching lights that I can find. No rumble of engines coming this way.
But how long do we have?

And then what?

It’s only now that it’s happening for real that I realise that time skipping will
only get us so far. Each time we return we’ll be tagged and pursued again. But for
how long? They’ll eventually
work out that we have to return to the same spot. We
can’t keep jumping forever.

‘Finished?’ I ask, coming back to the reception desk. ‘We have to go.’

‘Hold on.’ By now Mason has a new screen on view, trying to hack in to the server
at the Federal Police.

Soon he leans back. ‘Dammit. Can’t get in.’

‘Here.’ I pull the keyboard close and get busy.

‘Scout, I need the comscreen.’ Mason’s hand is firm on my arm, just this side of
annoyance.

‘One minute.’ Back to the grid, I set up a fresh alert to tell us if anyone’s approaching
from about three kms out. We’re in an industrial estate so no-one else should be
here at this time of night.

When I’ve finished, I push the keyboard back towards Mason. ‘There. It’s all yours.
But if you hear an alarm it means the police are coming.’

His mouth is pushed to one side, not annoyed anymore. ‘Actually … that gives me an
idea.’

I stay quiet as I watch, no distractions slowing him down. Instead of trying to find
a way into the main server, Mason goes back to the grid, his thin hands moving quickly
as he traces a path in reverse, finding the server that added the arrest warrant,
then patching his way back in via the instruction path. Clever. It’s like sneaking
into a building through an exit door by having someone open it from the inside.

Soon we’re trawling through the files on the server at the
Federal Police, reading
through notes that mention our names. There’s not much on Boc, Echo and me, most
of it seems to reference back to Mason, but the files on him are a whole new story.
I don’t understand half of the phrases used –
felony
,
reckless endangerment
– but
I understand others, like
suspect
and
wilful damage
.
Manslaughter
.

After a while Mason’s hands drop to his lap, his head lowered. Boc has his arms crossed,
jaw muscles clenched as he stares at the screen. Soon his chest expands and slowly
contracts.

‘So … what?’ I ask. ‘They’re trying to blame Mason for …?’ I glance at Echo. I don’t
have to say it.

‘Sort of. Not –’ Boc glances at Echo too,‘not premeditated or anything. But –’

‘But they know I’m the one who blocked the safety sensors.’ Mason lifts his head.
‘So they’re going to hang a case off that.’

‘But …’ Head shaking. ‘It wasn’t your idea. It was –’ My sightline lifts to Boc and
I break off as I realise this is the first time I’ve looked him in the eye since
the accident. The guy who knows no fear. He’s the reason why Mason cut the safety
sensors; he’s the reason why Amon was taking such a risk. If the police are looking
for someone to blame, it should be Boc.

Boc sees me watching and crosses his arms, pushing his chin forwards.
Got something
to say?

Can’t sit anymore. I’m up and at the entrance doors, looking into the night. The
alarm is set to warn us if anyone’s coming, but I have to see for myself. Black night
is close around us. I lean my shoulder against the glass.

Mason and Boc keep talking in low voices. ‘This is bad. I think they have a case.’

‘We won’t let them get you, Mase.’

My eyes drop and I trace a finger over the raised lump of the chip scar. It’s been
faded by the procedure, but it’s still new in so many ways.

‘We’ve been talking about it already, haven’t we?’ whispers Boc. ‘Now we have a reason.’

No reply at first, then Mason asks, ‘You think we would make it?’

‘Only one way to find out.’

My hands drop as I stand away from the door. I knew it would be useful to go off-grid.
Just didn’t realise how much.

‘You have to cut it out,’ I call across the room. ‘Your chip, I mean. Or write some
sort of masking code.’

Mason looks up from the comscreen. ‘What?’

‘Your chip. It’s the reason they can track you, right? So we cut it out, leave it
here. Or find a way to block it from the grid. When they come, you’ll be long gone.’
As I talk, I make my way to the reception desk and stop in front of it. ‘You’ll be
free.’

‘Free?’ His forehead creases. ‘With no water? No access to food?’

‘I know a water source. We’ll work food out. The important thing is you’ll be safe
once you’re off-grid.’

‘Off-grid,’ Mason mumbles, the creases deepening around his eyes. Except he’s not
talking to me, he just said that to thin air.