Deep Wate - Sarah Epstein Page 0,108

eyes shut for a second, shakes his brother’s face away.

No, no, no. Don’t go there.

Not yet.

Just keep pedalling.

Streetlights are dotted down the rolling stretch of Roberts Road, farmland on one side, soil embankment on the other. It’s an easy stretch to ride but his legs are like jelly. He almost pulls the bike over to vomit, his mouth flooded with saliva. He manages to breathe through it and swallow the urge back down.

Headlights.

Up ahead, two blazing orbs are growing larger, dipping and cresting with the undulating road. Mason hears the engine. As the vehicle passes under a streetlight he sees a flash of blue.

His car, closing in fast.

Way too fast for this stretch of road.

As the car draws closer, the rev of the engine backs off momentarily. Tom has seen him. Mason locks his arms at the elbows and grips the handlebars, pumping his legs harder until his muscles scream out in pain. His mind goes to that empty place where he’s not quite connected. He doesn’t care about what happens next. He can’t let Tom leave.

The streetlights glint across the car’s bonnet as it thunders towards him. Mason steers the bike onto the centre line of the road. The station wagon jerks to the right. Mason mirrors it. Then to the left. Mason does the same. The car returns to the centre and Mason steers the bike to meet it. It doesn’t slow. He hears the engine kick up a notch.

Mason holds his course. The car is a hundred metres away. Fifty.

This is going to hurt.

Mason’s tempted to close his eyes. Instead, he hunches his shoulders and stares at the car’s windscreen.

‘Do it,’ he screams. ‘Take me out as well!’

It’s only when he says the words he realises that isn’t what he wants at all. Most of the time he doesn’t want to be here, but that doesn’t mean he wants to go.

Mason veers left. At the last second, the Subaru locks up as Tom slams on the brakes. The car swerves to Mason’s right and hits the embankment, dark soil spraying across the road. It’s airborne for a split second before the bonnet strikes a tree, flipping the car out sideways. It comes to rest right side up, facing the direction it came from.

Mason skids his bike onto the shoulder and it slides out from under him. He sails along the gravel on his stomach, his bike travelling into a ditch. He jerks around, ignoring the gravel embedded in his hands.

His car is a wreck. Glass everywhere. Smoke is pouring from the crumpled bonnet and the passenger side door is completely caved in. A headlight dangles from its wires like a detached eyeball, and he can hear the tick tick tick of something dripping. Stu Macleod is going to be so pissed.

Mason looks for Tom.

The windscreen is cracked and both airbags have deployed. He watches the driver’s side door, waiting for Tom to kick it open and jump out. He doesn’t.

Mason feels a flash of panic about Tom being injured and instantly hates himself for it. His conflicting feelings are tough to get his head around.

He keeps watching the car, too sore to move anyway. He has to blink to focus, his concentration dipping in and out. Only when he sees blue and red flashing lights in the distance does Mason lay his head down in the gravel.

He lets himself think about Henry now, and surrenders to the tears when they come.

Now

It almost feels like a dream, the memory of that afternoon last year when Henry and I were together at the service station on Bridge Road. I picture the wistful expression on his face as he talked about leaving The Shallows one day.

‘Sometimes I just wanna keep going and never look back.’ I think of those words now as Dad steers the ute past the railway station, my eyes drawn to the waiting room where Henry’s mountain bike was found. Despite knowing the truth, part of me will always imagine Henry got on a train that night to start his big adventure.

Hot tears prick at my eyes and I press a damp tissue to my cheeks in an effort to compose myself. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much in my whole life as I have in the last three days.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?’ Dad says, easing the ute into a parking space not far from the police station. He hasn’t left my side since we heard about