The Viperob Files Page 17

  “If that bastard’s ditched us, I swear to God I’ll kill him,” muttered Jaego.

  “Look, we don’t know that yet. Maybe he’s negotiating inside?” suggested Gwen.

  “Either that, or he’s been nabbed by Spec Ops…” A shout from the direction of the station cut him off mid-sentence.

  Each kid froze, straining to catch the voice again.

  “Ethan, Jaego, Gwen! Get your arses up here, time to go!”

  Jaego grinned. “Jesus, I didn’t think the old bastard would actually come through with the goods.”

  Ethan felt his heart leap, a hope that had barely survived as a flickering tendril now burst into full-blown flame. We’re going to get on the Maglev! Gwen eyes widened with excitement at the news, sadness banished for a moment as she gave him a spontaneous hug so tight it felt like a rib would pop.

  Ethan felt a niggle of guilt that he had misjudged Kane so badly as they started to jog towards the station. Knowing that he was his dad’s trusted friend should have been enough.

  Within moments they were at the intersection, only thirty metres separating them from the station entrance. After the darkness of the abandoned side streets, the lighting outside of the station was blinding. Ethan squinted, picking out the backlit figure of Kane standing in the middle of crossroads. Ethan slowed for a moment, unwilling to step into the light until his eyes had adjusted. His gaze skirted the area, searching for signs of other people or security. Behind Kane, the gate into the station hung wide open, beckoning him to enter, but the intersection was otherwise empty. He looked back at Kane, now able to see his face more clearly. Ethan stopped in his tracks, throwing an arm out sideways to hold up Jaego and Gwen.

  Kane’s eyes were red, and his left cheek swollen and pink like he’d just been hit. He beckoned the kids toward him with a shaking hand, glancing over his shoulder as if searching for someone behind. “Come on, I need to get you three inside. There’s not much time left,” he said with a thick voice.

  Ethan didn’t move. “Is everything ok? What happened to your face?”

  Kane raised a hand and wiped over his eyes, sniffing heavily. “Nothing’s wrong.” He turned back to the station and started to walk, no longer looking at the teens. “Now, hurry up!”

  Jaego pushed into the small of Ethan’s back. “What’s the hold, man? Are we catching this train or what?”

  “Something’s not right,” said Ethan, leaning in close to his friends to keep his volume down. “Didn’t you see his cheek? It looks like someone’s punched him and his voice is all thick like he’s been crying.”

  Gwen glanced over Ethan’s shoulder at Kane who had stopped again to wait for them. “We haven’t got time for this, Ethan. If we miss this train we’re doubly screwed.”

  “Listen to your girlfriend, you idiot,” said Kane, one side his mouth pulled up in a sneer. “It’s time to go.”

  Ethan took a hesitant step onto the street, then started walking forward, his mates close behind. On seeing their capitulation, a look of relief flashed briefly on Kane’s face before it became a gout of bloody tissue.

  Gwen screamed. Where Kane’s nose and eyes had been was nothing but a ragged crater of crimson-stained bone and tissue, his face spread in a haze of bloody droplets on the pavement between them. Kane’s body pitched forward, joints unhinging like a dropped marionette. Ethan watched him hit the ground, his mind unbelieving. Paralysed. He felt Jaego pull his shoulder backwards, heard him as if from a distance shout that they needed to run.

  Two more gunshots sounded, sparks and concrete chips exploding off the ground before the teens, jolting Ethan from his inertia.

  “Don’t move!” shouted a voice from the station gate.

  Two officers had exited from the station, each with a handgun trained menacingly on their group.

  “Get on your knees with hands behind your head!” shouted one of the officers.

  Ethan’s brain buzzed, conflicting urges to resist clamouring for attention, wanting to do anything but comply with the bastards that would take their freedom.

  “Last chance. On your knees now, or I’ll shoot them from beneath you,” growled the officer.

  The man’s eyes were empty of sympathy, giving Ethan the distinct feeling he was waiting for any excuse to fire. He knew there was no hope of success if they fought. Not with homemade spears. They’d be dropped before even closing the distance to engage. And if they ran, it would only earn a bullet in the back. With teeth gritted, Ethan lowered himself to his knees on the concrete, his hands behind his head. In his peripheral vision, he saw Gwen and Jaego also comply.

  A third officer now appeared from the doorway. Unlike the others, this man did not wear a beret, displaying white-blond hair, buzz-cut to his scalp. The rest of his uniform matched the grey fatigues of the others, but his seniority over his companions was unmistakable. With a relaxed smile, he came and stood between his comrades. Not bothering to lift a weapon of his own, he looked over the three teenagers with a benign sort of interest, as if examining a bug before he squashed it underfoot.

  “My name’s Lieutenant Harris of the Special Operations Unit. Each of you are under arrest for the crime of corporate espionage and theft. I’d advise against any heroics while my officers cuff you. If you attempt to run, it will go hard on your parents,” said Harris, his voice conversational in tone. “I’d be forced to clip a few more fingers, which would be a shame considering how few they have left.”

  “You’re a goddamned monster,” spat Gwen. “Where’s my father? Is he still alive?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” said Harris. With a subtle flick of his hand, he ordered his men forward. Both officers moved, one pulling out a set of zip-tie restraints while the other kept his weapon trained.

  Ethan took one last look at Harris and made up his mind. Nothing about the lieutenant gave the impression that they would be granted clemency. If they were caught, he’d never see the light of day again. Ethan glanced at the advancing officers, then started to lower his arms.

  “Are you with me, Jaego?” he said from the corner of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the officer in front.

  “Don’t you do it, kid,” shouted the officer, breaking into a run.

  Ethan darted his arm down, grasping onto the shaft of his spear and rolled to the side. A gun fired, as he gained his feet and he braced, waiting for an explosion of pain somewhere in his body. When he realised he hadn’t been hit, he looked frantically to both his mates. Jaego was also on his feet, spear in hand while Gwen had taken up a kneeling shooting stance, Kane’s handgun back in her grip; neither were injured. Gwen fired, the gun kicking in her grip.

  Ethan looked back to the officers. The man to the left that had held the gun dropped the weapon, his hands clamped over a spreading flood of claret on his chest, pink bubbles of froth escaping his mouth as he tried to breathe. Within moments he slumped to the ground. As the second officer tried to draw his weapon, he too pitched forward, twitching as he hit the ground.

  “That wasn’t me!” said Gwen, her voice tense. “Who else is shooting?”

  Ahead of them, Harris spun around to face back at the station and dropped into a crouch with his weapon drawn. His gun tracked upward and fired twice just as Zach emerged from the station gate and crashed into the lieutenant, sending them both sprawling.

  “Dad!” shouted Jaego as he launched into motion to help his father.

  Zach grunted with effort as Harris bucked underneath, the lieutenant hammering at his face with one fist, the other which held his gun was pinned to the ground by Zach’s one working hand. Jaego sprinted forward, lined up the officer like a striker and kicked Harris in the head, the toe of his boot making a sickening thud as it connected. The lieutenant fell limp, the hand that had been punching Zach flopping onto the concrete like a deboned fish.

  Ethan and Gwen helped Jaego lift his dad off Harris’s body, the lieutenant still motionless.

  “Bloody hell, I think you killed him,” said Ethan, nu
dging the officer’s head with his shoe.

  “Good,” muttered Jaego, not bothering to look up from where he knelt next to his father. “Dad, what did they do to you?” He gently ran a finger over the injuries of his father’s face, tears welling at the gross trauma. “Is Mum ok?”

  Zach coughed then spasmed in pain, bright blood coating his lips once he eased backwards again, breathing laboured. “I failed her, Jaego,” he said, only managing short phrases. “She’s dead. All of them are dead.”

  “No, you’ve got to be wrong,” whispered Jaego, but the grief in his eyes showed belief.

  Gwen crouched in closer, grabbing hold of Zach’s shoulder. “What do you mean, Mr Tan? Are Ethan’s or my parents alive?”

  Zach didn’t appear to register her question. “You need… to leave the island,” he panted. “They’ll kill you… if you stay.” Another fit of coughing wracked Zach’s body, blood now frothing out of his mouth in greater quantities.

  “Jaego, he’s been shot,” said Ethan, exposing two ragged wounds on the man’s chest.

  Zach’s breath rate was rapidly escalating, each breath quick and shallow, taking him past the point of communication. Uncontrolled haemorrhage had stolen colour from his skin as Jaego pulled his dad onto his lap, hugging him with all his strength as if he could keep him from dying by force of will alone. Suddenly Zach started to seize, arms and legs twitching in uncontrollable movements. After less than thirty seconds, his body fell limp again, eyes staring blankly at the stars above.

  “No!” cried Jaego, pressing his forehead against his dad’s face, tears streaming to mix with his father’s blood.

  Oblivious to his surroundings, Ethan stared on in mute grief at his mate’s loss. Ethan had no idea how long they had been standing there when a low voice finally roused him. A transit employee was standing at the barred gate. “Zach was right. You kids need to leave the island tonight.”

  “Dad!” Gwen darted forward, wrapping her arms around the man in a bone-cracking hug. Tears were bright in her eyes as she buried her head in his shoulder. “I thought you were dead.” She lifted her head, tracing a light finger over his broken nose, grimacing at the state of his face. “Look what the bastards have done to you. I’m so sorry for leaving corporation grounds, I didn’t mean for you to get in more trouble.”

  He shook his head slightly, making a soothing noise. “It’s ok, darling, it’s not your fault.”

  “Are you…?” asked Ethan, struggling to re-centre his thoughts again.

  The transit employee lifted his gaze to Ethan, giving a slight nod. “Yeah, I’m Marco, Gwen’s father. I was the one Kane tried to use to get on the train. But Spec Ops already had me under surveillance,” he said, eyes downcast. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “Did he try and get a ride for all of us, or just himself?” asked Gwen, clenching her gun in a white knuckled grip.

  “No, just himself,”

  Gwen swore violently and kicked the toe of her boot against the ground. Ethan closed his eyes, the confirmation of betrayal like a fist to the gut.

  “What’s the point of running?” asked Jaego quietly, his eyes dull. “No matter where we go on the island, they’ll track us down eventually. We know the train will be searched now, and if we swim… it’d be no different to suicide. I don’t see an option.”

  “There’s another way.”

  Ethan glanced up at the man, waiting for him to continue.

  “You can walk the Maglev track. There will be a four-hour gap between services after this train leaves, more than enough time for you to walk across the span to the mainland.”

  “But the track’s less than forty centimetres wide and fifty metres in the air above the channel. All it’ll take is one misstep or a gust of wind and we’ll be flying. If the impact doesn’t kill us when we hit the water, Tri-Claw will,” muttered Gwen. “How is that possibly an option?”

  “Because it’s the only one you have left.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Ethan leant out over the edge of the cliff and looked down, squinting into a gusting wind that carried a tang of salt spray. To his left, the Maglev track punched off the headland into clear air, its single track inconsequential as a toothpick where he lost sight of it in the darkness. Far below, waves smashed against sandstone in tones of muted grey. Although barely visible under the crescent moon, the violence of the ocean carried clear to his ears with a promise of death. He swallowed, anxiety at the thought of crossing the stretch of water churning his gut like an eel in a bucket.

  “Don’t look down, kid. No point worrying about what’s below when all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other until you reach the other side.”

  Ethan took one last look then stepped back from the edge. “Easy said when you’re not the one walking the track,” he said, taking the offered harness from Marco.

  Gwen’s father just grunted. “I’ve done it plenty of times, these tracks don’t do their own upkeep.”

  Ethan bit back his reply, thinking that it was unlikely Marco had crossed the span at night and with gusting winds to complicate matters. He put each leg through a loop of the harness, pulling it up until the padded nylon sat snuggly at the top of his thighs before tightening the strap about his waist. The harness was simple in construction, no different to the ones Ethan had used during an abseiling course at school. Marco had taken the three harnesses from a track maintenance locker built into the outside of the station en route to the bridge.

  “How long until they notice these are missing, you reckon?” asked Gwen. She had already finished putting on her own harness.

  “Probably not long, but should be enough time for you to cross,” said Marco.

  “Where’s your harness, Dad?”

  Marco looked away from his daughter, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not coming with you. I’m going to stay here.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said, shaking her head. “You have to come with us, or they’ll kill you.”

  He shrugged, looking at her finally. “My job’s to keep you alive, so I need to stay here and ensure you get enough time to cross that bridge.” Marco stepped forward and drew his daughter into a hug, smoothing some tears off her cheek with his thumb. “I’ll direct them away from the track and say you were going to try to swim the strait.”

  “If you’re staying, then so am I. I’m not going to leave you behind, I couldn’t live with myself,” said Gwen, her voice hoarse.

  “Whatever files Nikolai stole, Viperob is adamant they never see light. They’ll kill anyone with knowledge of their contents to keep their secret. Harris talked of making a deal, but I realised too late that it was just a lie to get hold of you all. We don’t have a choice. Your only chance at living is to run.”

  Marco fixed Ethan with a glare. “These files your father stole, are they worth my daughter risking her life?”

  Ethan nodded. “If we don’t get them to the army, thousands might die. Viperob’s planning to hand control of Australasia’s border drones to the highest bidder.”

  Marco swore quietly. “And the bastards tried to call me a crook.” He looked between each of the kids. “You need to look out for each other once you get to the other side. From here on in, blood be damned—you’re family, ok?”

  Jaego, Ethan and Gwen glanced at each other after his words, faces serious as they nodded.

  In the distance, an electronic whine began to rapidly increase in volume and track glow, announcing the approach of a Maglev. Marco jogged back from the track and waved the teens to join him behind an outcrop of rock nearby. Within moments, the 10:00 P.M. Maglev service came into view, rapidly accelerating. Ethan joined Gwen and Jaego, gripping hold of the rock to steady himself just as the train whipped by, already close to its top speed of 400 kilometres per hour. Wind from the slipstream tore at his clothes, sucking him towards the track. For a split second, Ethan thought he was going to lose his grip, nails splintering against the rock as his fingers started to slip. And then it
was past. The last carriage was scooting away into the distance, over the bridge and gone from sight in less time than it took to draw breath.

  Marco moved away from cover again and stood on the single track, a width of polished steel no wider than the length of a boot. Ethan realised he was still gripping the sandstone outcrop and he self-consciously let go to stand, sticking his right index finger into his mouth to suck at a bleeding nail as he walked over to join the others. Marco held three lengths of nylon rope in one hand. Each length of rope had a loop at the end.

  “These will save you from taking a dive if you lose your balance,” he said. He gestured for Gwen to move closer and took hold of a carabiner at the front of her climbing harness. “It’s a simple set up. Hook one end of the rope on your carabiner, then loop the other end under the track and back onto the carabiner as well.”

  Marco demonstrated, hooking on the ropes to create a loop with just enough length to go under the track while allowing Gwen to stand straight.

  “What? That’s it?” asked Ethan. “And if we do fall, how are we supposed to get back up again?”

  “You’ve got arms, haven’t you?” said Marco. “Climb up the rope; or better yet—don’t fall off in the first place.” He glanced away from the kids into the dark.

  “Yeah, I heard it, too,” said Gwen. “That Tri-Claw didn’t sound too far away. Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Her face was drawn, eyes pleading.

  Marco gently took his daughter’s hand. “Once I know you three are on the other side of the track, I’ll try and follow. But you must promise not to wait for me, or it’ll all be for nothing.”

  He leant down and kissed her forehead, then stepped back again and handed the last two lengths of rope to Jaego. A metallic chirp sounded again, this time closer. At the noise, Marco started backing away from the kids. “It’s time we all got out of here, I reckon.” He raised a hand briefly in farewell. “Good luck!”

  Ethan went to offer his thanks, but Marco had already turned tail and began running back to the station, his figure soon lost in the darkness. Sharp foot strikes could now be heard over the sound of the sea, the staccato of a sprinting Tri-Claw.