Something powerful is drawing Ward back to Devil's Island. Something he thought he had forgotten. He must evade vicious lighthouse keeper George Jaggles in order to rescue it, but Jaggles will soon be the least of his worries. Because an assassin is...
He made it to assembly just as the final bell tolled off into the morning. The village green was white with frost. His breath plumed in the air as he sang the national anthem. He kept his head down as the principal, Mr Eldridge, droned on about teamwork and responsibility. Apart from that there was the sound of traffic from the highway, a raven croaking from the chainlink fence that separated the assembly area from the village green, and some answering warbles from the magpies that lived in the big gum tree near the drinking fountain and swooped at anyone who came near. No sirens. But then he wondered why they would use them, and realised they probably wouldn't. Perhaps they would send a helicopter for him.
He wondered how many years you got for running away from the scene of an accident. Why had he given them his name? Stupid. Would they call his parents first, or come straight here to get him? He looked over at the school gates but saw no police cars, only parents dropping off the kids who were always late: Justin Oxley, who smelled of pee, and Rikki from third grade, who was always trying to take her clothes off.
After assembly he filed into class with everyone else. He sat at the back with his friend Arjun. Arjun said good morning, but in a long and impressive burp. When Matt didn't laugh Arjun gave him a curious look, but already Mrs Diaco was swatting her desk with her ruler. Mrs Diaco loved to swat her desk. Matt sometimes wondered what the ruler was made of to stand up to such a swatting, day in, day out. He had read that spaceships were made of something called KEVLAR. Perhaps Mrs Diaco's ruler was made of KEVLAR too.
After she had turned to the board Matt reached into his pocket and took out the thing he had taken from the dead man. He put it in his lap, out of sight, and glanced down at it when nobody was watching. It was a small bag, or pouch. It was soft, like a dog's ear. He knew it was made of leather, because he could smell it. It was very old, soft and dark with years, like a pair of his grandfather's shoes, like the bellows in the loft in his father's workshop, that had been there forever and had come from God only knew where.
"What's that?" Arjun whispered.
"Nothing," Matt said, putting the pouch back in his pocket.
"Looked like something."
"Show you later."
But he didn't show the pouch to Arjun later. He never showed it to anybody.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I am only accepting comments on this chapter in the form of long and impressive burps.
