The Repossession (42 page)

But where was Genie? Where was Renée? He surfaced again seconds later to look for them and was immediately

struck hard on the head again by fast moving timber. He instantly lost consciousness. The river able to do with him what it willed.

Renée tried to untangle herself from the raft. She’d twisted her hand around the straps to keep her in, but now it was on top of her and she couldn’t get free. She was being pummelled by rocks and knew if she didn’t flip it over real soon she was going to drown.

The hunter with the flashlight turned to his father and pulled a face.

‘Can’t find ’em again, Pa.’

His Pa swore. ‘I told you, Sean, no shooting. They want them alive, you dumb bastard. No shooting.’

‘Sorry, Pa. Accident. I swear it. Accident.’

His father attempted to steer the inflatable closer to where the raft was last seen.

‘Sweep again. That’s my reward money going under and they ain’t going to pay up if they drowned.’

Genie and Moucher were sitting shivering like drowned rats on a rock mid-stream, keeping dead quiet in the darkness. The moon was up at last and could be glimpsed through the trees overhead. She realized that somehow they’d taken a run-off channel, the main river was

flowing normally about fifty metres away. How that had happened she didn’t know, but then not one of them had any river craft.

She watched the two hunters in their inflatable sweeping the water with their flashlight. Where was Rian? She was beginning to panic; she had a terribly bad feeling about him. The hunters wouldn’t spot her here, nor could they get their craft near. She discovered her fingers were crossed, she’d been saying a prayer for Rian and Renée and their safety.

You could never count on anything, she realized. Ten grand per head motivated a lot of people in these parts.

That was for sure.

The flashlight was sweeping close to her again and she grabbed Mouch and squatted down low behind the rock.

Mouch shaking with fear and the cold, but keeping quiet, just as he’d been told to.

Genie heard the inflatable’s motor kick in. They were moving off. Either they had given up or were going downstream. Perhaps leaving, in case the gunshot had alerted anyone. But there was little chance of that out here. There was nothing but farmland and trees . . .

Rian hauled himself out of the river and lay gasping on the riverbank spewing out river water. He was in agony.

His head hurt like hell and blood trickled into his mouth.

He wanted to yell Genie’s name but the hunters might still be in earshot, despite their outboard engine’s noise.

He looked downstream for signs of Renée and the raft, but she had disappeared. He hoped like hell she’d managed to flip it over again and stayed put somewhere.

He clutched his head; he felt incredibly dizzy.

Shooting pains suddenly overwhelmed him and he had to cough. He felt bad, real bad. He could feel his temperature spiking, a hot flush sweeping over him; his brain was going to boil over. He really needed Genie now. Where was she? He fell back against the mud and sand, groaning loudly as he clutched his head; the world was spinning around him out of control.

Genie pointed to the riverbank. ‘We’re going to swim?

OK, Mouch? Follow me.’

Genie plunged back in, Mouch quickly followed, his doggy paddle pretty good, he wasn’t far behind her at all.

Clambering out over rocks on the other hand was harder, but eventually Genie got one half-drowned bedraggled hound out of the water and he shook as hard as he could to rid himself of the river.

‘Enough already!’ Genie exclaimed.

Mouch gave one last shake and then wiped his head on the grass to be sure.

‘Rian?’ Genie shouted. ‘Rian?’

Genie listened. Nothing. She realized that the river made a lot of noise passing over the rocks. He probably couldn’t hear. She hoped so. She had images of him lying bleeding someplace and . . .

‘Come on. We got some walking to do.’

Mouch was only too happy to walk. Better than being on the river, that was for sure.

Much further downstream, Renée had detached herself from the raft and watched it sink by the dim glow of moonlight.

She’d surfaced to discover a logjam had piled up on a bend and although the water was passing really fast underneath through a sluice, the logs and other debris prevented anything from going any further on the surface.

The raft was impaled on a jagged tree branch. Useless now. With it had died her courage and hopes. She really hoped the others were safe; was she the only survivor?

She suddenly realized that a life without either one of them would be just impossible. Totally impossible.

She felt guilty; she should have saved the raft.

Sam Hawksmoor answers our questions!

What research did you have to do for the story?

In Canada they keep national statistics about missing kids, in the UK they don’t. It’s shocking – some charities believe as many as 90,000 thousand kids go missing in the UK but no one really knows. Luckily, many are found or return, but the problem is getting worse in this austerity climate.

I read up on the current thinking on matter transference and the law of unintended consequences. That, and a lifetime wondering how teleportation functioned on Star Trek. The Terminator travels naked for a reason. The amount of computer power needed to teleport a pair of socks is IMMENSE. In part two of my story (The Hunting) we see just how problematic that can be.

How close to being real and possible are the events in The Repossession?

Right now at CERN in Switzerland they think they have found the God Particle (Higgs Boson), the very building block of life. If true, the reality of transmitting matter is much closer than you think. Finding volunteers might be tricky, however. Failing that, you’d need to do what The Fortress did and keep it very secret.

Is there a real life inspiration for Spurlake?

The small town of Hope BC is situated at the bottom of a huge gloomy rockface by the southern end of the Fraser River Canyon. I have also spent vacations in Nelson BC and other little former gold rush towns in the beautiful Okanagan. Spurlake could easily exist.

Are Genie and Rian based on real people?

Genie was inspired by Roxanne – a real girl who is pretty, tough, determined and very bright. Rian by a kid in Coquitlam BC who rescued me one night in a blizzard when my car tipped over. He was 15 then and already taking care of his sick mother and girlfriend.

What made you want to become a writer?

You don’t have a choice in these things. I was writing stories when I was a kid, inspired by music and places I wanted to go to. Luckily none have survived to embarrass me now.

Do you have anything you do to inspire you and help you write?

I go to the movies every week. I listen to music as I write (classical mostly but contemporary voices too such as Emeli Sandé) and do most of my first drafts in noisy cafés. I don’t really like being ‘alone’ in the attic scribbling. I make sure I go for walks by the water (especially when in Vancouver) and miss the dog (who of course wormed his way into the book anyway). I can be inspired by a person, an object, a memory, or even the weather. I love those moments when suddenly the idea comes and you just have to get it on paper before it all disappears.

SAM HAWKSMOOR

ONLINE

Find information, extracts, reviews and all about the author at:

www.samhawksmoor.com