Vanished, James Delargy [i like reading books txt] 📗

his face was unmissable. A chance to see his friends again. But friends could be made anywhere. Especially when you were young.

He glared at Nee for broadcasting her thoughts publicly, before smiling at his son. ‘Put your headphones on and listen to some music.’

Dylan looked at him, paused, then nodded, the giant black headphones engulfing a significant portion of his head.

He refocused on Naiyana. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ she replied. In much the same plaintive manner that Dylan had done earlier when insisting that he’d seen someone in town. A trait either learned or inherited from her.

‘You must have.’

‘He’s not stupid. He understands that this isn’t living.’

‘It’s survival for a little while, then we can live. We can become a family again. We were too disconnected in Perth. We were consumed by our jobs in the day, then Dylan in the evening, before trying to catch up on the work we missed looking after him.’

‘So your cure is to force us together? In a ghost town we can’t escape from? That’s unnatural. Our whole presence here is unnatural. No one should be forced to live in the desert. The people who came out here all those years ago had to. They had to find gold to buy food. We have money.’

‘We’re also running though. Remember that.’

Lorcan left in the morning without exchanging a word with Naiyana. She could tinker with whatever she needed to in the house to keep her busy. He had work to do.

As he climbed into the ute he gazed over at his son. He had occupied a mound of piled earth to the side of the house and had brought all his vehicles to the party.

‘What have you got there, Dyl?’

Dylan put the yellow dumper truck down on what looked like a road carved into the hill that led to the beginnings of a cave dug into the earth.

‘A mine,’ he said, obviously pleased with himself.

‘Looks good.’

‘I need another dump truck though. The digger has to wait until the first one goes and comes back before it can load again.’

Lorcan smiled. His son had developed an entire business, excavating clay from the hole and transporting it to the bottom. An impressive enterprise, hindered by a lack of equipment.

‘Want me to see if I can get you another?’ he asked, refusing to chide himself for attempting to buy his loyalty. Dylan’s happiness was a key component of any long-term success out here.

‘Yes!’ said Dylan. ‘And a crane if there is one. And a monster truck.’

‘A monster truck?’

‘Yes. To get home after work.’ Stated as if it was the only and obvious answer.

Lorcan smiled and put on his sunglasses. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

15

Lorcan

Though there was little danger of meeting anything coming the other way he stuck to the middle of the fissured track that wound towards the main road and then on to Hurton. The tyres crackled as they met the fractured edges as if driving over a massive sheet of bubble wrap. He reminded himself to pick up a spare tyre or two. He didn’t want to have to trek to town across the scrub and there was no chance of hitching a ride. There was also no chance of the road being repaired and he wondered why the government had not just dug up the road when they were closing Kallayee down. Probably cheaper to let it rot, he suspected, as another deep scar tried to wrench the steering wheel from his hand.

Reaching the main road he turned towards Hurton. With the improvement in the surface and less chance of being pitched into the scenery, his thoughts drifted back to Naiyana and her pleas to leave. He couldn’t let her poison their son against this before they had given it a real shot. It was verbal sabotage. Just when he was trying to fix things. He would prove that he was capable of creating a home for them out here.

There were only a few people on Main Street, but given the silence of daytime Kallayee it was like a bustling city. He pulled to the side of the road outside a place called Mallon and Son’s Hardware, the sign above the double doors freshly painted and firmly attached to the red-brick building.

He expected a mom-and-pop store rather than a franchise. What he found was the focus of attention. The old attendant at the till – most likely Mallon – halted his conversation with a younger man – likely Son – his hand drifting under the counter. To reach for a weapon. Or for an alarm of some sort.

He was a stranger and strangers around here were noticed. He gave both men an obligatory nod and orientated himself. The store exceeded his expectations. It had everything he needed: tools, materials, screws, nails. Pulling his tablet from his pocket he flicked through to the page he wanted. Building a wall. He needed about a hundred bricks to be on the safe side, cement mix, club hammer, trowel, sand. He went to follow a link to another site offering advice but found the ‘Device not connected to the Internet’ page. Something he would have to get used to out here. Lack of coverage, lack of connectivity.

‘Can I help?’

Lorcan glanced to his side. Son was standing close to him, his look one of curiosity rather than helpfulness. In the background Mallon was monitoring progress from his perch behind the counter like an owl.

‘I just need to pick up some bricks, cement and sand.’

‘What is it that you’re looking to do?’

‘Repair a gable wall.’

‘I see. Where?’

Lorcan paused. Why did that matter? He glanced at the counter. Mallon had his ear wedged to a landline phone but Lorcan couldn’t hear what he was saying. His senses piqued. Were they going to jump him on the way out? Rob the out-of-towner? Did they think he had rolls of cash in his pockets?

‘A place I have.’

‘Not in town.’

‘No, not in town,’ confirmed