The Other Side of Nowhere (28 page)

‘Floor it,’ I yelled to Stephanie, who was standing by the wheel looking terrified.

‘I can’t,’ she shouted back, pointing at the dashboard of gauges. ‘There’s only a metre below the keel!’

The gauge showed 1.0, then blinked and changed to 0.8. Immediately Stephanie pulled the throttle back and slammed the yacht into reverse. All around, the water churned and hissed, turning muddy brown as the yacht dredged up sand from the sea floor.

‘What are you doing?’ I snapped, trying to grab the wheel away from her.

She swore and tore my hand from the wheel. I tried to shove her out of the way but as I did, George’s arm came out of nowhere and held me back.

‘Johnno, stop it! It’s too shallow.’

All of a sudden, the pain in my head and body returned with a vengeance. The throbbing between my ears drowned out all rational thought. Stephanie glared defiantly as George tightened her hold on me. I looked over the stern again. The dinghy couldn’t have been more than thirty metres away. I saw the bewildered look on Matt’s face as we started to reverse away. He began to row harder but it was no use. The dinghy was falling further and further behind every second.

The Free Man
had cleared the point, its high, sharp bow slicing through the waves, throwing out plumes of white water on either side. It was moving at speed and closing in on us fast.

‘They’ve seen us,’ said George, dropping her hold on my arm and instinctively wrapping a protective arm around Amira, whose eyes were wide and frightened.

The trawler wasn’t just coming towards us, it was coming right
at
us. I could feel myself freezing up like a deer in the headlights, unsure where to turn.

And then, bizarrely, bursting out of my screaming jumble of thoughts, I saw Matt on his bike with a monstrous truck thundering along the road, bearing down. I snapped into action, my head suddenly crystal clear.

‘Stephanie – give me the wheel,’ I said confidently, almost calmly.

‘No way!’ she said, gripping the wheel even tighter. ‘Do you have any idea how much this boat’s worth?’

Ignoring her, I took the wheel and nudged her aside. ‘Don’t worry. We’ve got it covered … in cash.’

‘Huh? What are you talking about?’

Maybe it was shock, or maybe she just thought I was too insane to mess with, but as I took the wheel and spun it hard, she didn’t resist.

‘Can you get life jackets for everyone?’ I said to her as she stepped back. ‘Do you have a little one for Amira?’

She eyed me suspiciously for a moment, then, shaking her head, turned and disappeared below.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked George

‘Don’t worry. I have a plan.’
At least, I hope I do,
I added silently.

As I pushed the throttle forward and straightened the wheel, the yacht took off parallel to the beach, slowly gathering speed. Straightaway, the trawler altered its course, fixing its path on our stern like a heat-seeking missile.

Stephanie ran back up the stairs and began handing out life jackets. Amira looked petrified and, as George helped her into a jacket that was way too big, she started whimpering.

Stephanie came over and stood next to me at the wheel. ‘If you’re thinking you can beat that thing, think again.
Southern Belle
’s not that fast.’

Even with the throttle fully open the trawler was clearly gaining on us. ‘Yeah, I’m getting that idea.’

‘But she turns on a dime.’

‘What?’

She smiled a wicked little smile. ‘Let them get close, then turn as sharp as you can.’

I looked at her in surprise. A minute ago she wouldn’t let me near the wheel – now she wanted to play dodgems.

‘Hey, if
you
stuff it up at least I can tell Dad it wasn’t me who totalled his boat,’ she said.

‘Sounds like a plan. Just tell me when.’

She looked back at the approaching trawler. ‘Okay. They’re getting close, maybe ten or twenty boat lengths away.’

‘Which is it? Ten or twenty?’ I asked with a quick glance over my shoulder.

‘Ten.’

‘Right. Tell me when it’s five, then count down to one.’

‘
One
?’

‘You said let them get close.’

‘Yeah, but we don’t have to be a hood ornament.’

‘Just count, will you?’

‘Okay, fine. Whatever.’

I snuck another glance over my shoulder. The trawler was close all right and not slowing. I felt sure they meant to ram us. My hands tightened on the wheel, so desperately wanting to turn it. Even Stephanie reached out instinctively to put a hand on the wheel and started to pull it. I didn’t push her away, just held even tighter, fighting her as well as myself.

‘
Five …
’

The trawler’s engines growled above the purring of the yacht’s motor and the rush of the water fanning out from its barnacle-covered bow sounded like a waterfall.

‘
Four …
’

‘Hold it … Hold it,’ I muttered to myself.

‘For god’s sake …
Three
.’

The trawler’s shadow crept into the cockpit. The name of the boat,
The Free Man,
loomed large overhead. George screamed as Stephanie let go of the wheel and fell back against her and Amira.

‘
Two!
’ she squealed.

With every ounce of strength I could summon, I spun the wheel, around and around and around until it fully locked. For a split second it seemed like nothing happened. The trawler was right there, blanketing everything, so close I could almost reach out and touch it. It was like watching a horror movie. I gripped the wheel tighter in fear. Then the yacht lurched sidewards, almost turning on itself, and peeled away from under the trawler’s nose. I winced and held my breath.

Suddenly there was a massive, bone-jarring crunch.

The trawler hit the stern hard, pushing the yacht down at the back and, for one terrifying moment, it felt like we were about to be dragged under. I clutched Stephanie’s arm. From George’s arms, Amira’s sobbing cries filled the air.

Then, incredibly, we were spat out sideways like a cork squeezing from a bottle. The huge wake of the trawler flooded over into the cockpit, slamming me to the floor. George and Amira started skating across the deck as the water drained back over the sides, and I grabbed George’s leg just in time. The three of us hit the rail hard and an instant later Stephanie crashed into the back of me, sending a lightning bolt of pain through my already tender ribs. The yacht bobbed on the spot in a kind of turbulent limbo then slowly started to move forward again.

The trawler kept powering away. Two men appeared on the rear deck, scanning the water for debris. I could see their surprise turn to anger when they realised that somehow we’d slipped past. I recognised one of them straightaway. It was the man from the jetty who’d been carrying the sleeping bag.

‘Up yours, losers!’ I yelled, punching the air in triumph.

As far as I could see, Ali and the others weren’t on the trawler. I wondered if Zaffar had taken them back to the cave, but then again, they’d had all night to do something worse. More determined than ever, I grabbed hold of the wheel and swung it hard again, setting our course straight for the dinghy.

‘Everyone okay?’ I called out.

‘I think so,’ said Stephanie, wiping the tangle of hair from her face. George gave a weak smile and a thumbs-up, but poor Amira was wailing like a siren. I didn’t know what limit was reasonable for a six year old to handle, but I knew she was way over it.

‘Hey, there’s someone on the beach,’ said Stephanie, coming to stand beside me.

There were two figures on the beach, along the water line. The first was running, while the other, a much larger figure, walked behind. There was something all-too-familiar about the loping gait and oversized body.

I scanned the water for Matt and Nick. The dinghy was now in deeper water and we could go straight to it. The trawler was making a big sweeping turn and would be coming back again soon enough, but I was pretty sure we had time to pick up Matt and Nick.

‘Steph, can you drive while I help them up?’ I asked, relinquishing the wheel to her. She eased off the throttle as we pulled alongside the dinghy, placing the yacht between it and the beach.

One of the figures on the beach had his arm raised, pointing at us. I heard a sharp crack above the thrum of the engine and, an instant later, a ping as a bullet hit the yacht’s rigging.

I leapt over the rail and onto the platform as Matt rowed feverishly towards us. Another ping was followed by the splintering of wood as a bullet slammed into the deck.

‘Oh my god,’ yelled Stephanie. ‘They’re shooting at us!’

When Matt was about a length away, he dropped the oars and spun round in his seat. In between heaving breaths he blurted out the thing I’d been dreading.

‘Nick’s hurt bad – he got shot!’

Nick was lying in the bottom of the dinghy, looking pale. ‘I’m fine,’ he said weakly.

A dark red stain was spreading down the side of his shirt and I could feel the stickiness of blood on my hands as I eased him into the cockpit. He definitely didn’t look fine.

George knelt down next to Nick and gingerly lifted his shirt. ‘I knew it. I just knew it,’ she muttered, shaking her head.

Nick winced at her touch, but then shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Of course it’s not nothing. It’s a bullet wound, you idiot,’ she snapped.

‘You might want to get some antiseptic on that,’ said Stephanie, looking slightly nauseous. ‘And something to stop the blood. There’s a first-aid kit downstairs … I’ll get it.’

‘Okay, hang on, everybody,’ I said, standing up at the wheel again. I pushed the throttle down and we surged towards the open ocean, leaving the dinghy bobbing in our wake.

Baldy and some other guy who had been shooting at us had waded waist deep into the shallows, but without any way of getting closer, they looked like they’d given up in frustration. The same couldn’t be said for the trawler. It had swung around in a wide arc and was heading back towards us. As we started to move, it altered course to head us off.

Stephanie came back up on deck with a first-aid kit and gave it to George while Matt sat with Amira. He had his arm around her and was making soothing noises and, even in among everything else, I had to smile at this side of my little brother that I’d never seen before.

Nick was propped up against the cabin bulkhead, trying hard not to flinch as George started to treat the wound in his side.

He saw I was looking at him and offered a weak smile. ‘Nice manoeuvre. Good to see all those hours on the PlayStation paying off.’

‘Don’t reckon we’ll be so lucky next time,’ I replied grimly.

‘I reckon you’re right.’

‘But I’ve got an idea.’

Nick looked surprised. ‘I’m all ears.’

I turned to Stephanie who was watching over George’s shoulder. ‘I’m guessing you’d have some distress flares somewhere? I asked her.

‘Yeah, there’s a whole container in the cabin,’ she said, a little guardedly. I guess by now she’d worked out that every idea came with more than a little risk.

‘Okay, could you get them please?’

Stephanie looked doubtful but turned and made her way down the steps without answering.

‘What are we going to do this time? George asked calmly, as she began to wrap a bandage around Nick’s stomach.

‘I reckon we need some more fireworks,’ I replied.

‘What, you gonna set yourself alight again?’ said Nick, grimacing as George pressed down on his wound. He was looking paler by the minute. There was sweat beading on his brow and blood was already seeping through the bandage. When he spoke it was like he was just getting the words out between breaths.

I shrugged. ‘I figure if we can’t outrun them, might as well make it as hard for them as we can.’

‘Yeah, but what’s a flare gonna do? You probably don’t know how to use them anyway.’ He went to push George away and get to his feet.

‘Nick, just sit down!’ said George in exasperation, ‘Johnno, what do you want us to do?’

Just then Stephanie came bounding up the steps, carrying a large yellow plastic container with a watertight, screw-top lid. I took it from her as she grabbed the wheel. The container felt nearly full.