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  Maybe Rafe already had a copy of the text—and maybe he knew what it meant. It was possible Dad had told him something about it.

  I dismissed the idea after a little thought. It would be too dangerous to try and find out. If I got caught, I’d never find the truth.

  I tried reading it again, and again, but I couldn’t make much sense of it. Something about leaves, a lady’s face, tears, the sun, a grate, a door and a queen … Ever since I’d seen that phrase ‘Ormond Riddle’ written on the piece of paper at Rafe’s place, I had been hanging out to see this. But now it had me scratching my head. I tried calling Boges again, hoping his brainpower might help, but I still couldn’t raise a signal.

  I leaned back on the bench, frustrated and exhausted. All my efforts to get my hands on this thing had resulted in nothing but eight lines of gibberish. Great, I thought bitterly. So this was the famous Ormond Riddle that I’d been trying to find out about, and that two criminal gangs were chasing. As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to the damn thing. And so was Rafe. I’d hoped it was going to take me closer to solving the mystery of Dad’s discovery and his drawings. Instead, all I had was eight lines of nothing!

  Eight? Hang on. I looked again. There were only six lines here! I remembered distinctly how the Ormond Riddle had been described on the website Boges and I had found at the library:

  If that description was accurate, what the hell had happened to the last two lines? And then I noticed something that I hadn’t spotted before: the last line of writing sat close to the bottom edge whereas on the other three sides there was space. When I looked closer, I could see that the bottom edge seemed to have been neatly cut with something sharp.

  Someone must have cut off the last two lines to make it harder to figure this thing out!

  I turned my attention to the other documents in the folder—two letters—and began reading the first one, which was from Oriana de la Force to a legal firm.

  December 31st! All I could see was that date. It hit me like a tonne of bricks. And then I remembered the desperate face of the crazy guy who’d staggered after me on New Year’s Eve, last year, scaring the living daylights out of me. ‘The Ormond Singularity!’ he’d croaked. ‘Don’t let it be the death of you too, boy! You must hide—lie low until midnight of December 31st!’

  How had he known that? Who was he? Some sort of visionary from the future? His words echoed in my head: They killed your father! he’d said. Was there truth in that too? And who were ‘they’?

  Dad got sick in Ireland, was sent home, was admitted to the hospice, and then died. He’d contracted an aggressive virus that attacked his brain and killed him—quickly. It was as simple as that. I watched him deteriorate. There wasn’t any ‘they’ involved.

  What was supposed to happen at midnight on December 31st? What did it mean that the Ormond Singularity would ‘cease to exist’ on that day? Was the Singularity something to do with Dad’s estate? Is that why Rafe was involved somehow? Is that what both the criminal gangs were after when they kept questioning me? I felt dizzy with questions.

  I started reading the second letter.

  Oriana had clearly been asking lawyers—experts in estate and inheritance law—for advice about the Ormond Singularity. And even though the letter from ‘Doddle’ made barely any sense to me, and I had no idea what ‘effluxion’ meant, it was something about the short amount of time until the Ormond Singularity was repealed—became invalid. Had Dad been the heir who’d ‘predeceased’ the repeal of the Singularity? I was confused.

  I wasn’t sure who Edward the First was, but I knew he’d lived a helluva long time ago. My family name was tangled up with some really crazy things—like an angel and a riddle, and now a ‘singularity’. But the date … the date had blazed off the paper. It seemed to be the most important thing.

  I could hardly believe what I’d just read. It all seemed unreal.

  I shoved the letters back into the folder.

  Here I was, stuck in a hut in the middle of nowhere. So many people were chasing me and I couldn’t even make a phone call. Worst of all, I couldn’t be near my family, or my little sister in her hospital bed. All of this seemed to have occurred because of a series of weird pictures my dad had drawn, a damned useless, incomplete riddle with my family’s name stuck to it and a stolen item from a suitcase. And, of course, the Ormond Singularity—right here in front of me I had the documents to prove that it was something very real and very dangerous—something that made people go to extreme lengths to get their hands on it. And it ‘ceased to exist’ on December 31st.

  My brain felt like it had been wrenched out of my head, shoved in the washing machine, then shaken out and shoved back into my skull again.

  I couldn’t stay still. I got up, edgy and spun out, trying to make sense of it all. After what I’d just read, the crazy guy’s warning about 365 days sure didn’t seem so crazy after all.

  There was a deadline. And somehow he’d known about it. Who was he and why did he care enough to warn me?

  Deadline. I didn’t like the sound of that. Like ‘flatline’ it spelled the end of everything.

  The nightmare I was living had suddenly become even deeper and darker. Could it be true that this Ormond Singularity was hundreds of years old and that it involved my family? I paced the length of the small hut before stopping in front of the ancient document—the Riddle—that was lying on the table. What are you trying to tell me? I asked it. I stared at it, like I was actually waiting for an answer.

  I stood up, and checked that the door was now locked. I pulled out one of the camp stretchers, badly needing more sleep. As the first stretcher came free of the others, it dislodged one of the boxes on the end of the dusty shelf.

  A sound from outside alerted me and I turned the kerosene lamp down. I stood still in the darkness, straining to listen. All I could hear were the trees rustling, the calls of night birds, the chirping of crickets, and the low croaking of frogs. I was getting jumpy, imagining things. But I couldn’t take any chances after the close call with Sumo earlier.

  An uneasy feeling started niggling at me. What if he was still out there, determined to find me?

  I picked up the capsicum spray and slowly opened the door, peering out into the darkness, ready to spray any intruders. I waited a few moments then, satisfied I’d been imagining things, I closed the door again and locked it.

  Curious now to see what was in the boxes, I turned up the lamp and began checking them out. I began with the one that had been dislodged.

  Cool! I grabbed a spanner that was lying on the ground nearby to pry it open and found inside what looked like big, freaky binoculars. These could definitely come in handy, I thought, lifting out a pair and pulling the straps over my head.

  They were heavy and uncomfortable and turned the dim world I was in various shades of red. I turned my head from left to right. I could definitely see things more clearly, but it was almost like looking down a tunnel.

  I reached for my backpack so I could add them to my growing armoury, which now included: tranquilliser syringes, one police-issue capsicum spray, a couple of train detonators and now night goggles! I was going to need to find a way to keep them safe and away from prying eyes. As I stashed it all away, I couldn’t help feeling like a computer game character, adding to his arsenal. Except, unlike one of those two-dimensional guys, this was real, and I only had one life left.

  In the other boxes, I found some very shrivel led-looking ration packs, tin camping ovens and cooking utensils, and at the bottom of the last one, a couple of old maps.

  I spread the first map out on the table. I knew that while I’d come a long way, I was still pretty far from Mount Helicon and Great-uncle Bartholomew. Someone had shaded a large area around the hut and back towards the creek with pencil, and had scribbled something in the nearby margin.

  I put the maps in my bag and slowly glanced around the hut. Clearly this wasn’t an overnight camper cabin. It was a shelter belonging to the Depart
ment of Defence, to be used by soldiers on military exercises. From the look of the dusty equipment, it hadn’t been used in a long time.

  My eyes were going bleary I was so tired. I unfolded a camp stretcher, locked it into position, and let myself sink into it. A few hours’ shut-eye would be perfect. I could wake up early and get away at first light. Then I’d be free to try my luck again at finding a way to Mount Helicon and Great-uncle Bartholomew. Maybe an old guy like him would be able to help with the old-fashioned language of the Ormond Riddle. Maybe he’d even know something about the Ormond Singularity and the menace that was threatening our family.

  I sat up, eyes wide open. It was still dark, but I knew I’d only been asleep for a couple of hours. The kerosene lamp was still on, but low, sputtering and almost out. I strained to listen in the flickering light—again on red alert.

  For a change it was the total silence that spooked me. Before, when I had gone to sleep, there’d been the night rustlings of tiny creatures, birds and the chirping of crickets. Now there was just this silence—too deep, too empty.

  Something had spooked the crickets. Something had silenced the frogs. Something was out there.

  I turned the kerosene lamp right off and crept over to the door, picking up the night goggles from my bag on the way. Slowly, silently, I opened the door just a fraction and looked out. All I could see was the dim outline of a nearby tree and then nothing but the wide blackness of the scrub. Now, the silence seemed full of danger.

  I stepped back into the hut, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and pulled the night goggles on, tight, then looked around the crack of the door at the same scene.

  What I saw made me jump right back inside! I slammed the door, cold with panic!

  I wrenched on my sneakers, checked that the Riddle folder and my dad’s drawings were in my backpack, and then slid over to the window. Keeping very close to the wall, I peered out through the night goggles at the crimson-tinted scene.

  There, stealthily moving from tree to tree, no more than twenty metres away and gaining on the hut, was Sumo! But how did he know where I was? How had he tracked me, following my trail in the dark? We were in a massive area of bushland! I was kilometres from the scene of the accident! Was he just lucky?

  Even if the low light from the lamp had been visible, I could have been anywhere! My brain was racing, trying to work it out, but I didn’t have time to deal with puzzles, and I had to get out of the hut. I couldn’t possibly stay—he’d only have to smash through the window to get inside.

  There was only one thing to do—act swiftly.

  I kicked the door open and bolted into the night, the night goggles showing me what branches and fallen logs to avoid.

  In a matter of seconds he was thundering after me, cursing and thrashing through the bush.

  Branches whipped my face and scratched my arms as I charged through the scrub. I didn’t have a lot of strength left, but I had to get away from this guy. I had the advantage—night goggles—while he was wildly swinging around a torch to light his path.

  Another beam of torchlight in front of me caused me to stop dead in my tracks. I jumped back behind the shelter of a huge hollow tree trunk. What the? My guts clenched.

  Someone else was heading my way! My chest ached as I peered back out towards the light. It wasn’t just Sumo I had to deal with—I was trapped between two of Oriana de la Force’s men. Kelvin was back!

  There were now two of them against me. Two thugs with torches.

  Both of their torches suddenly switched off simultaneously; they didn’t want to give away their positions. But what they didn’t know was that I could see them, regardless. I watched as their pinkish-red figures crept carefully towards each other; Sumo looked at Kelvin and nodded his head in my direction.

  Before I knew what was going on, something whizzed past my head. I dropped to the ground as shots rang out!

  I couldn’t believe it! They were shooting at me!

  Another bullet whistled past me, followed a second or two later by the cracking sound of the shot. How the hell could they see me? Were they just firing randomly, to frighten me out into the open? This was crazy!

  I stayed down, hugging myself in fear. If I didn’t move, they wouldn’t see me. But if I didn’t move, I couldn’t get away. I was trapped.

  Trying to make no sound, I started crawling away. I crept low along the uneven ground like a snake, for fear of raising a limb too high and catching a bullet.

  Every now and then another bullet whizzed through the air near me. Somehow they still had me in their sights.

  I couldn’t hear them anywhere; I could only hear the sounds of gunfire.

  Ahead, beside a huge tree, I could see a big clumpy bush growing out of a rocky ledge. Together, the ledge and the foliage made a sort of roof. I crawled to it and huddled there, listening as bullets continued to shoot around me haphazardly.

  I’d been huddled in the shelter of the bush for about ten minutes. The shooting had become very intermittent. Maybe they’d lost me. Or I’d lost them. I realised I could hear the sound of the highway, some distance away. My frantic scrambling had brought me closer to the road.

  Despite the throbbing pain of exhaustion in my legs, I decided I had to try to run for it. With the night goggles I still had some advantage over them. Once the sun rose, I would lose that. I had to make a break for it before sunrise.

  I thought I’d climb up onto the ledge and continue from higher ground.

  But when I reached up, I nearly passed out with shock and fear. Right above me, and grinning down at me, was the face of the sumo wrestler.

  He reached his hands out, ready to jump off the ledge and attack me. I launched myself sideways and behind a tree trunk.

  There was a loud thud as another shot filled the air between us.

  I glanced up to find Sumo toppling forward, crashing a metre or so down to the ground beside me. As his round body rolled helplessly to the side, I saw a growing, dark stain on his back.

  He’d been shot!

  He’d been shot? What? Kelvin must have accidentally shot him!

  I sprang to my feet, to run, when I suddenly remembered something I’d seen on the map back at the hut: the scribbled note written in the margin that I’d casually skimmed over.

  Sumo, Kelvin and I had all stumbled into the middle of an overnight Defence Force live fire exercise! Where soldiers train with live ammunition instead of blanks—firing real bullets!

  I didn’t know what to do; if I attempted to get to the road, I could meet the same fate as Sumo and get caught in the crossfire! And if I stuck around, Kelvin could be on to me in a matter of seconds.

  I crawled back towards Sumo’s motionless body thinking that I would climb up onto the high ground from where he’d just fallen, and run. As I approached, Sumo moved an arm and moaned. I kept an eye on him as I clambered up onto the rock ledge, ignoring as much as I could the pain in my legs and the hot ache in my inflamed shoulder. If I could work out where the firing was coming from, using the night goggles, I might have a chance of avoiding it by going around the soldiers and making it to the road.

  Very carefully, using a nearby tree trunk as protection, I scanned around three hundred and sixty degrees, panning through the trees and bushes. I saw a group of soldiers some distance away, lying on their stomachs, their weapons directed straight at me!

  Did they know we were there? I couldn’t quite make out their faces so didn’t know if they were wearing night goggles or not.

  I dropped flat to the ground while all around me bullets whizzed once more! Fragments of shattered timber from the trees splintered and struck me, piercing my bare hands with stinging strength. I curled up into a tiny ball.

  Finally the firing stopped. The shrieking of the bullets was gone and I realised just how loudly I was panting.

  The soldiers looked like they were dug in so I figured I was the one who needed to move. I set off crawling backwards, through spiky, prickly scrub, moving in a wide
arc, hoping to end up behind them.

  It was taking a long time to get anywhere, and I was still worrying about Kelvin being out there somewhere.

  I’d almost made it. I could see the occasional car on the road with its headlights still bright despite dawn streaking the eastern sky. A little bit further and I’d be at the road. I eased my heavy backpack off and took out my mobile.

  At last, I had a signal, but not for long. My battery was almost dead. I badly needed to charge my phone so that I could call Boges, and so that he could call me. I shoved my mobile back in my bag, shouldered the heavy thing again, and started walking parallel to the highway on the lookout for a petrol station. I hoped that by now Kelvin was a long way away, and not cruising the highway, looking for me. Or worse, creeping up on me from behind.

  An ambulance flew by in a blur behind the trees ahead and I guessed that the army had found their accidental victim, Sumo. I couldn’t help smiling. That was one less thug I had to worry about—at least for a while.

  The sun was well and truly up now and it was hot walking as I threaded my way towards the road. Through the gaps I caught a glimpse of the big signage of a petrol station in the distance, where I knew I could get a drink of water and maybe something to eat.

  Warily, I checked out the place from my position across the road, wondering whether the cops had issued a warning about me being on the loose in the area. I couldn’t see any of the vehicles I’d come to fear—the dark blue Mercedes, the black Subaru, or any kind of cop car. As I approached I saw that there was a dining area to the left of the petrol pumps that was a big barn of a place, with white garden chairs and round tables, and an open kitchen in the back.