Riddle Gully Runaway Read online

  ‘That cap …’ said Pollo.

  ‘That voice …’ said Will.

  ‘Benson!’ They both sprang. Pollo dropped the rope tethering Shorn Connery and Ear. Bulky and cumbersome with fleece, they plunged back into the mob of sheep. They reached the high, curved, steel fence just as the dog pulled Benson by his leg outside onto the concrete path. Benson went down with a thud. The dog stood over him, snarling, its big paws across Benson’s shoulders, ropes of saliva swinging from its jaws.

  ‘Don’t look it in the eye!’ yelled Pollo to Benson. ‘Try to curl up if you can!’ She jammed the toe of her runner between the fence railings and began to climb. But with all the fleece inside and outside her clothing and the curve of the fence at the top, it was slow going. Now something was holding her back! She’d snagged on some wire. ‘Will!’ she yelled. ‘I’m caught up! I can’t get over!’

  ‘Help!’ screamed Benson. He rolled his head toward Will, safe on the other side of the fence. ‘Please!’

  Will was rigid like a statue. He’d never seen anyone in real trouble before. In real terror. It wasn’t like TV — it was all around him and it didn’t cut away to a hero who knew just what to do. He opened and shut his mouth, his eyes darting from Benson, to Pollo stuck on the fence, and back again.

  The dog growled and stiffened. Somewhere deep inside Will, a switch quietly flicked. His brain cleared like he’d whiffed ammonia. He opened his mouth and suddenly, barely knowing what he was doing, he was barking like a mad dog himself. Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo! He did it again, his voice rising and cracking. Woo-woo-woo-WOO-WOO-WOO-WOO!

  The dog stopped snarling and looked at Will — this authoritative sheep-human creature with odd pronunciation. It cocked its head to one side, its hairy brow furrowed.

  Woo-woo-woo-WOO-WOO-WOO-WOO! Will flapped his fleece as he barked. The animal whimpered and edged backwards, releasing Benson who scrambled back against the wall.

  Pollo finally tore herself free and jumped backwards into the pen with Will. They waved their woollen capes. The dog stalked toward them suspiciously, its eyes fixed on them through the fence, its nose doing wheelies in the air. Benson took his chance and belted for the door.

  ‘We’ve tripped the alarm! So disappear fast!’ he yelled, the exit door banging shut behind him.

  A second later, the door opened again a crack. ‘Thanks!’ The guard dog turned and pelted at him. Just in time, Benson slammed the door closed against its nose.

  Pollo and Will looked at one another, breathing sharply, both wondering the same thing. What was Benson doing inside the abattoir at night? Had they found him too late to stop him sliding further into trouble? Or were they wrong about who Benson’s ‘true self’ really was? There was no time to talk. They waded back into the mob of sheep, back toward the fence separating their pen from the empty one beside the unloading dock, to search for Shorn Connery and Ear all over again.

  ‘Do you think he recognised us?’ puffed Pollo.

  ‘I reckon so,’ said Will. ‘He looked me right in the eye. By now he’s probably halfway down the driveway with whatever it is he’s nicked.’

  ‘And whoever’s coming to check that security alarm,’ said Pollo, ‘is probably halfway up.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  In the scant moonlight, Will and Pollo pushed through the murmuring sheep, expecting any second to hear a swarm of police cars revving up the narrow road to the abattoir.

  ‘We’ve still got to cross that empty holding pen,’ puffed Will. ‘We’ll stand out like emus in a chicken coop if they catch us there!’

  ‘Let’s concentrate on finding Shorn Connery and Ear first,’ whispered Pollo. ‘Then we can panic. Keep your fleece on. It’ll help disguise us.’

  ‘Even if we do manage to find them, we have to get them both over the fence. That’ll take forever!’

  ‘One problem at time, eh, Will?’ said Pollo, ploughing on.

  To their giant relief, the lovebirds hadn’t strayed far from where they had left them. They didn’t seem to notice when Pollo grabbed the rope tying them together. Will and Pollo were huffing and puffing, trying to lift them over the railings, when they saw a figure, his cap on sideways, bounding toward them across the dirt on the other side of the fence. Pollo and Will swapped glances. Benson! And apart from his torch, he didn’t look to be carrying anything!

  ‘You two saved my bacon back there,’ he puffed. He swung his legs and was soon sitting atop the fence. He shone the torch beam over their faces. ‘You’re the ones from Riddle Gully, aren’t you? Fuzzball and Punk! Only you’ve both stacked on some pudding since I last saw you.’

  Will patted his stomach. ‘It’s sheep’s wool. We’re wearing it inside our clothes too to cover our scent.’

  ‘Smart thinking,’ said Benson.

  ‘It came from my faithful assistant, Shorn Connery here,’ said Pollo. ‘He helps in the strangest ways!’

  ‘I reckon you got about three minutes before security gets here. I’ll lend you a hand.’

  He pocketed the torch and jumped down. Together they managed to get Shorn Connery and Ear over the railings and into the empty pen. The two sheep didn’t need any encouragement. As soon as their hooves hit the ground they galloped hell-for-leather for the ramp rising to the loading dock. Pollo, holding their rope, had to sprint hard to keep from being pulled over.

  They all rattled up the ramp — Shorn Connery, Ear, Pollo, Will and Benson. They had just jumped onto the unloading dock, their lungs burning, when through the trees they saw headlights sweeping into the abattoir turn-off from the main road. They grabbed Will’s backpack where he’d left it by the ramp and ran for it. They reached the pools of deep shadow beneath the trees by the car park just as a four-wheel drive rumbled past and skidded to a halt. Two burly security guards leapt out, hands on truncheons at their hips.

  The men strode up to the abattoir entrance, flashlights sweeping; Pollo, Will, Benson, Shorn Connery and Ear scurried away into the dark.

  *

  In the field alongside the access road, the troop followed the fence-line away from the abattoir, their feet groping through the dry twigs and prickly shrubs. No one dared to switch on a torch.

  ‘Let’s stop for a second to let our eyes adjust,’ said Pollo. She closed her eyes.

  ‘Do you want to stop and unstuff yourselves?’ said Benson. ‘It’s not uncomfortable? You’re not getting too hot?’

  ‘You’re kidding! It’s first time all day I’ve felt nice and toasty!’ Pollo opened her eyes to see Benson rubbing his arms. ‘Oh … would you like some wool?’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind,’ said Benson.

  Pollo and Will each tugged out hanks and passed them over to Benson, who stuffed them down the front of his hoodie. He bobbed his head approvingly. ‘Sweet!’

  ‘Save some,’ said Pollo. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘In case what?’ said Will.

  ‘Those security guards will have to come back this way,’ said Pollo. ‘We might have to hide again.’

  ‘They won’t have found anything wrong,’ said Benson. ‘I didn’t nick anything; I didn’t damage anything.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ said Will. He added hastily, ‘Not that I’m surprised or anything.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, Benson, what were you doing at the abattoir tonight?’ said Pollo.

  ‘Hah! Matter of fact, I do mind. You don’t think I couldn’t ask the same thing about you two?’

  ‘Aah, it’s the heart-rending tale of two sheep who fell in love,’ said Will with a giggle. He pointed at Ear who was bustling ahead alongside Shorn Connery. ‘We wanted to rescue this one with the black ear from getting the chop.’

  ‘We were looking for you at the abattoir — this afternoon anyway,’ said Pollo.

  ‘What? So you could write another rubbish story about me and bury me in an even deeper hole?’

  ‘No,’ said Pollo. ‘So that we — I — could apologise. I had no business saying that stuff about you in the
newspaper. Even if it had been true it wouldn’t have been right.’

  ‘Whaddya mean, “even if it had been true”?’ said Benson.

  ‘The real thief was a raven,’ said Will. ‘At least we’re pretty certain it was — we haven’t checked for sure because its nest is too high to climb up to.’

  ‘A raven?’ said Benson. ‘Like … you mean … a crow?’

  ‘Uh-huh, except that ravens have those dangly throat feathers,’ said Pollo, ‘and when they caw they sound kinda sad. Anyway, this one’s got a funny feather sticking out on its shoulder. It’s been stealing things to decorate its nest.’

  ‘When we found out you’d nicked stuff at school,’ said Will, ‘we got it in our heads you were heaps worse than you really are.’

  ‘Gee, thanks, Punk,’ said Benson.

  ‘I’m sorry, Benson,’ said Pollo. ‘What I did was really wrong. It was lazy investigating, bad reporting, and it put you into all sorts of trouble.’

  ‘S’okay,’ said Benson. ‘I couldn’t stand it at my uncle’s anyway.’ He walked on a few paces then added, ‘And I didn’t help much — the way I reacted at the cemetery. I got a bit freaked-out, knowing Punk’s stepdad was a cop.’

  ‘So you were eavesdropping on us at the rollercoaster that day!’ said Pollo.

  ‘Well, yeah. When I heard you say he was a cop, I wondered if the cops in Riddle Gully knew about my suspension too.’

  ‘HB never said anything if he did,’ said Will.

  ‘Why were you crouching behind the tent stalls later on, though?’ said Pollo. ‘It keeps bugging me. You sure looked like you were up to no good.’

  Benson laughed wryly. ‘I was hiding from my uncle! He was wanting me to take photos of him winning that stupid chutney contest. They hadn’t even announced the results yet! He’s such a creep. I didn’t want the whole town knowing we were related.’

  ‘I guess I kind of ruined that for you,’ said Pollo.

  ‘They would’ve found out sooner or later.’

  ‘Hiding from Mayor Bullock,’ murmured Will. ‘We should have thought of that, eh, Pollo?’

  ‘Yes, Will. We should have.’

  They trudged beside the fence, the peppery scent of coming rain in their nostrils, wind snipping about their ears, their runners crunching on the sticks and curled bark sloughed off by the trees. They’d been quiet for several minutes when Benson spoke.

  ‘I’m not a thief, ya know,’ he said. ‘I can’t blame the school for suspending me, but I’m not just some scumbag who steals things for kicks.’

  Will and Pollo tried to read one another’s faces in the darkness. Was this Benson’s old self trying to find its feet again?

  ‘So … just checking,’ said Will. ‘You’re not a thief deep down, or you’re not a thief full stop?’

  ‘Full stop.’

  They shuffled a few more paces. ‘Why did your school suspend you, then?’ asked Pollo.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ said Benson.

  ‘We’re pretty good at “complicated”,’ said Will.

  Benson stopped. He turned to Will and Pollo. ‘What would you two know about complicated?’ he snorted. ‘Listen, I know you guys mean well, but no way am I ever telling you my personal stuff. People’s secrets aren’t just for fun. They’re not for collecting like footie cards.’

  ‘And now you listen, Buttface!’ said Will, blood suddenly rushing to his temples and angry words to his tongue. He caught the sensation by the tail and took ten deep, slow breaths. Benson kept quiet, curious. Feeling steadier, Will continued. ‘You don’t know what’s going on in our lives any more than we know what’s going on in yours. You’re not the only one in the world with problems.’

  ‘You saying you got problems?’ scoffed Benson. ‘Proper ones? Yeah, pull the other one, Punk.’

  Will thought of Pollo, whose mum had died when she was little, too soon to leave her with proper memories even. He thought of the graffiti mess he’d got himself into last summer, and of his dad, Clive, who went on about father-and-son bonding but had forgotten to do much about it since the rug rat came along. But Benson Bragg didn’t need to hear any of that.

  ‘Problems are problems,’ said Will. ‘It’s not like some count and some don’t — and it sure isn’t for you to decide. You don’t get to give ’em a score out of ten, Benson Bragg. All that counts is that people know what to do with their problems. Maybe we can get rid of them if we’re lucky. But maybe we just have to say “Hey, you know what? I can live with that.” You fix ‘em or you learn to get along with ’em. Just don’t go round acting stupid and feeling sorry for yourself!’

  Will stood facing Benson, one fist wrapped around his cloak of wool, hoping it might hide his trembling from the older boy in the sudden shaft of moonlight.

  ‘Man! You say some sharp stuff for a little dude,’ said Benson. ‘I’ve never thought of getting along with a problem before.’ He swatted Will on the side of his head and smiled. ‘Thanks, Punk. I’ll keep it in mind.’

  At that moment, they heard a vehicle bumping down the road from the abattoir, its high-beam headlights bouncing. Pollo and Benson darted behind a wide tree trunk, crouched low and pulled wool over their heads. Will hurled his backpack into the low branches of a bush and jammed his head in after it.

  The four-wheel drive passed. No one moved for a long time. Even Shorn Connery and Ear grazed quietly, obscured by bushes. Eventually Pollo, Will and Benson heard the shift of gears as the car accelerated up the main road back towards Princeville. Only the night crickets and the mob of sheep bleating in the distant holding pen could be heard.

  Will whispered from within a snare of spiky foliage. ‘Is it safe to come out?’

  ‘Yeah, probably,’ said two voices. He edged backside-first from his hiding spot and turned to see Pollo and Benson pointing at him from either side of their tree, their shoulders juddering trying not to laugh.

  ‘Can’t be too careful,’ said Will, straightening up and chasing a crawler off his neck.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After walking through the back streets of sleeping Princeville, they had reached an intersection where the wind whipping off the black ocean was so cold it felt like a slap.

  ‘Well, this is where we part,’ said Benson, pulling his hoodie over his head, cap and all. ‘I dunno what you guys are doing, but my castle is along that-a-way.’ He pointed up the road where moonlight glinted blue from the tin rooftops and the dead street lamps. ‘It’s been a swell evening. We should do it again sometime.’

  ‘But you’re not staying in Princeville, are you?’ cried Pollo. ‘You’re coming home with us, aren’t you — back to Riddle Gully?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ said Benson. ‘Why would I go back to where everyone thinks I’m a scumbag? Where my uncle takes it out on my gran every time I breathe in when he thinks I should be breathing out?’ Benson kicked a pebble on the road. It ricocheted off the kerb and bounced out of earshot.

  ‘But we’ll make sure everyone knows you’re not a scumbag,’ said Pollo. ‘You can’t stay here,’ said Pollo. ‘Those workers at the abattoir …’

  ‘Some of ’em are okay,’ said Benson. He began to walk in the direction of the Royal Arms.

  ‘Benson, I have to know,’ called Pollo, ‘because I started all this and I don’t want you to get into more trouble …’ She hurried after him and grabbed his jacket. ‘Why were you at the abattoir tonight? It’s something to do with that man who drove you home, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘He put you up to something, didn’t he?’

  Benson stopped. He looked up at the clouds scudding across the stars, his hands shoved into his pockets. ‘I guess I can tell you — it’s not like I went through with it.’ He sighed. ‘That man you saw me talking with is the top dog out there. The Duke, they call him. I was meant to steal the boss’s family photo and any cash I could find — like some kind of initiation. They talked about it like it was just a bit of fun, a prank. But when I got in there, I couldn’t do it.’
r />   ‘Because you’re not a thief,’ said Pollo.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Benson, ‘but also because I didn’t want them to own me.’

  ‘Own you, like in having something they could blackmail you with?’ said Pollo.

  ‘Nah,’ said Benson. ‘More like making me do something I thought was dead wrong. Putting a dent in the kind of person I want to be.’ Benson looked down at the footpath and kicked another stone. ‘Sounds crazy, eh?’

  ‘Sounds like the un-craziest thing I’ve ever heard,’ said Pollo.

  ‘I’m with you,’ said Will.

  ‘I mean, I’m standing there, looking at the boss’s wife and kids all smiling in the photo, and suddenly I don’t give a toss whether the Duke lets me into the group or not. So I leg it. I was trying to get out of there when that guard dog came at me. Dunno what the Duke and his mates will do to me tomorrow.’

  ‘Who cares?’ said Pollo. ‘You stood up to them. You should be proud of yourself.’

  ‘Easy for you to say, Fuzzball.’

  ‘You know,’ said Will, ‘there’s a chance they might respect you for it.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Benson. He took a sharp, deep breath. ‘I’ll stick it out here till payday, anyway. Then I’ll have enough to catch the bus home.’

  ‘You don’t have to stay in Princeville,’ said Will. ‘I can lend you the bus fare back to the city.’

  ‘I’m not a thief and I’m not a sponger either,’ said Benson, his voice cracking.

  ‘I know what you are, though,’ said Pollo, springing in front of Benson and thrusting her face near his. ‘You’re proud! Instead of accepting our help, you want to risk getting into more strife and have everyone go on treating you like you’re a bad person.’ She stamped her foot. ‘Come back to Riddle Gully with us! Prove to everyone you’re not what they think you are.’

  ‘I don’t have to prove anything to anyone!’ said Benson.

  ‘Then prove it to yourself,’ said Pollo. ‘Stop acting like a fugitive and running close to trouble.’