Chapter Three

It’s been three days since Alan had his accident and here I am rummaging through an old dusty chest of draws, in an attempt to find a half-decent T-shirt to wear. There’s nothing but a button-up Hawaiian shirt. I have no recollection as to how it found its way in here to begin with, but it will have to do.

I managed to get a hold of Haldon Burns last night, and even though I used a fake name and attempted my best impersonation of an uppity snob, he still seemed sceptical on the phone about showing me any housing options. However, he did agree to take me on a tour of a few properties currently available, at 11:00 a.m., today. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to even look at this point, but I am. I need to see what such a dream looks like.

Glancing at my watch as I wrap it around my wrist, I’m quick to note it’s 10:30 a.m. I need to get on the road. Hillside Estate is my destination.

“Roxie, where are you? We’re going out.” The soft whimpers coming from behind the couch alert me to one of her regular bitchy moods. “You can either lie behind the couch or you can come for a drive … I’m not coming to get you.”

The front door bangs against the wall as I fling it open, and it’s all the encouragement Roxie needs to leave her hideout and start her zig-zagging between my legs. “Moody today, girl?”

Stepping down the concrete stairs has Roxie nearly barrelling me over, so I take her into my arms and jolt my neck away from her wayward tongue. “You’re a pest. You know this about yourself, right?”

“Fin. Where are you going?” Ms Simon croaks from the window above.

“Drive,” I reply simply.

“No work again today?”

“Not today, Tessa.”

“Two days in a row. This is not like you.”

Tessa’s nosey, I’ll give her that. Stopping, I turn my attention skyward until we clap eyes. “Yeah. I don’t work at the steel mill no more.”

Her sudden bugged glare causes me to chuckle before she gasps and splatters. “You quit, Finlay?”

“Yep.”

“Feeling bad about what happened to the kid? The one you were telling me about the other night?”

“Nope,” I lie.

There’s a long pause, while Tessa adjusts the oxygen prongs in her nostrils and fiddles with something on the floor beside her. “How will you afford to eat?” she finally continues, leaning farther out of the window’s opening.

“I can. I’ll be all right. You know me. I’m a loser, but I’m tough.”

“How will you live?” She’s curious, and this doesn’t surprise me one bit.

“Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly nosey you are?”

“Yes,” she heckles. “You.”

“Well, you are. I have to go.” I grin, taking the last two steps to the footpath.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Finlay.”

“Yep.” I wave whilst striding towards my rusty old utility.

“Drive safe,” she calls out.

“Will do,” I reply, unlocking the ute’s door with the key and setting Roxie down on the driver’s seat. “Move over. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive.”

Her tongue hangs out of her mouth as she pants.

“Roxie, shove over.”

Once seated, I open the glovebox and search for the slither of paper that will alter my life. It’s tucked in the log book where I left it on the night I learnt my fate would change. I couldn’t exactly leave it in my apartment since it’s been broken into more times than I can count on both hands. Or in my wallet. I’ve been pick pocketed more times than I care to remember. Surprisingly, though, this heap of shit ute of mine has not once been targeted … it seemed logical. And since I wasn’t, and I’m still not ready to take the ticket to the newsagency, I had to come up with the safest place I have. That’s my glove box.

Running my hand over the prickles now covering my chin, I puff out my cheeks before placing the log book back where I retrieved it from. “It’s just a house, Fin.” I reassure myself before turning the ignition over and swiftly shifting into the flowing traffic.

The roads are fraught with potholes and stranded garbage. I find myself swerving every hundred or so metres to avoid a collision of some kind, and as I manoeuvre around a scooter missing both its wheels, I ask myself why I just don’t turn this ticket in to the newsagency and claim my prize. Maybe it’s because in the back of my mind I feel as though I’m going to be wrong and they’ll tell me I’m still as broke as fuck. Or maybe it’s because I’m frightened of the chance to become something more than I’ve ever been. One thing I know for sure is I need time to process these thoughts. I’ve never been one to go into certain situations all guns blazing, and I’ve always managed to stay calm and level-headed about things beyond my control. Today, I’m allowing myself a glimpse of a possibility. Tomorrow, I might just turn that ticket in. But, as I swerve left in avoiding another oversize pothole I take a moment to be honest with myself. There’s something about this ticket that has my guts turning inside out and flipping upside down.

A loud honking of a horn, no doubt coming from a usual impatient prick, brings me out of my thoughts and as I reach for the knob that controls the volume I breathe.

“You’re listening to Jasper and Clarke on Hoffman’s 106.2.”

I turn up the sound before dropping my hand to shift gears.

“So, Jasper, the mystery still remains. Four days later, and we still don’t know who the winner of the lottery is.”

“No,” Clarke replies.

“We know they live in Hoffman and we know the ticket was purchased on Monday from a newsagency in the west side of town.” Jasper is loving the mystery; you can hear it in his inquisitive tone.

“The question still remains, though, who is it? And why haven’t they claimed their winnings?”

“Because, Clarke, some people need time, mate,” I mutter.

“I agree with you, Clarke.” Jasper also seems besotted by this lotto ticket.

“It’s rather surprising for it not to have been claimed. I know if I was the sole winner of sixty-two million dollars I would’ve been there the moment the newsagency opened.” Clarke has a point, I guess.

“Oh, me too. It makes you wonder if the winner is even aware at this point they are so lucky.” Jasper sighs. “The things I’d do with such wealth.”

“Okay, listeners, let’s light up these lines. Why do you think the winner of Tuesday night’s lotto is yet to claim the grand prize? We’d love to hear your thoughts. And if you are the winner and you’re listening, maybe you’d like to shed some light as to why you’re yet to present the ticket. Clarke, now wouldn’t a call from the winner be amazing?”

“Yes. But, Jasper, didn’t you think he or she is currently out of town and has no idea they’ve actually won?”

“Well, yes, but a man can dream he or she is listening right now.”

“It’s a possibility. I’m still sticking to my belief, which is that the ticket has been lost. Maybe it’s at the dump. Nobody would find it there.”

Stopping at a traffic light, I find myself laughing at these two goons, that is until a Harley Davidson motorcycle, jet-black in colour, pulls up in the lane beside me. She rumbles like a beast and steals my attention at first glance. What a beauty.

“People are searching the streets. Did you see the news broadcast this morning?” Clarke continues as I admire the shine on the paint job and the curved structure of this incredible bike.

“I did.”

“The streets. Can you believe it?” Clarke says, as the Harley shifts into gear and speeds off into the distance.

“What I wouldn’t give for a bike like that,” I mumble to myself, turning the volume down on the radio until it’s barely audible and shifting my ute into gear.

The farther I travel into the upper-class district of Hoffman, the cleaner the air becomes. The wind rushes through the wound-down window and seems crisper and fresher. It could be because this part of town is built into rolling mountains and works its way down to the sea level, or it could be because the streets are clean and well maintained. I reach for a roll of peppermint lollies sitting on the dash. I pry one from the packet and slip it into my mouth before throwing it back on the dash. Taking my attention from the road momentarily, I switch my sight to Roxie and roll my eyes at how far her head is currently hanging out of the open passenger window. I hope she won’t try and jump out. It’s the last thought I have as the sound of screeching tyres has my eyes darting back to the road just in time to watch an SUV plough into the front of my utility.

Metal screeches. I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand jerks out to find Roxie. By a clump of her mangy hair, I’m able to pull her onto my lap and curl my body over hers in protection. The hard thud of my head on the steering column knocks the wind from my lungs. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath and when I do I realise the pick-up is tilting. Not a second more passes before we flip sideways.

“Fuuuuuuuck!” I don’t count how many times the roof of the ute hits bitumen, but we land back on the wheels with another loud crunching sound followed by a smashing conclusion.

“What in the world?” I slur, trying to focus my vision. All I see are cracks, lots of cracks, and then three dancing windscreens. I’m dazed, there’s no doubting it. A suffocating throttle to my neck has my hands desperately trying to remove the source, only to find Roxie attempting to wrap herself under my chin. “Itt’ss otttay guuurl,” I slur as a harsh throb to my head has me wincing.

“Holy … are … Can you hear me? Sir, are you okay?”

“Huuuuhh?”

“You need to get out of the car.” Although muffled, I can tell this voice is feminine in nature. “Quickly, you need to get out of the car.” The muffled sound grows more intense. “Holy shit! You need to get out. Get out!” she screams.

Shaking my head, I try to focus. Frantic banging has me following the direction it’s coming from. A soft light glows around bright red lips. “Your car is on fire. Get out!” The door handle rattles. “I can’t get it open. It’s stuck.” Her voice trembles.

“It’s okay,” I finally reply. “Here, take Roxie.” I hold Roxie up to the opened window, and the woman snatches her from my grip. “Move back.”

I groan as a piercing pain runs the length of my shoulder blade, sprinting down my spine. Pressing past this agony, I yank my body sideways and slam my shoulder against the door at the same time as I lift the internal handle. It doesn’t open. It doesn’t budge at all.

High-pitched screaming follows, and when I shift my attention towards it, I’m met with warmth to either cheek. She cradles my face in her palms, and her eyes burn with intense fear. “You need to get out. Do you understand? You’re going to burn to death. I can’t get you out.” Her unsteady voice sends adrenaline pulsing through my veins. “Please, you need to get out,” she whispers in despair as tears fall from her eyes.

Placing my hands to the backs of hers, I take one moment to stare into her wet bottle green eyes before I push her away. Digging my fingers into the window track, I pull my body through the opening, using my knee to launch myself up. The thick smoke has me coughing as my foot thumps against the last bit of the frame and I fall outwards. I hit the pavement with a thump.

“I’m here. I have you. Oh, thank God. Oh, thank fucking God. You need to get up, okay?” She takes my arm and begins reefing it.

I hear her strained grunts. I’m not moving an inch, but this woman isn’t giving up.

“Let go,” I choke out as I cough. Rolling onto my stomach, I begin army crawling before I get into a kneeling position.

She pinches my arm.

“Come on. Find your feet.” She’s tugging at me once more.

I’m on my feet, with a little help from the mystery woman.

“Are you okay? Here, let me look.” Soft hands travel over my arms as she runs her fingers from the back of my neck, over my shoulders, and plants them on my chest. “There are cuts and there will be bruises, but I think you’re okay … I think you’re okay.” She begins to laugh, and she laughs so hard it almost disguises her sobbing.

“Hey, I’m okay,” I croak, running my hands into her flowing red hair before cupping them to either side of her face. “I’m okay. You saved me.”

“I saved you,” she whispers, with her gaze fixed hard to mine.

“I’ve called the emergency services,” a deep voice yells, not far from where I hold my saviour in my hands.

“You’re going to be okay. Your dog is going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.” She continues sobbing, and when she takes a deep breath, she allows her cheek to nestle firmly into my right palm.

“Thank you, for …”

Before I can even finish the sentence, a glimpse of a sliver of paper flashes in my memory. “Holy shit!” I roar. My heart sprints as I throw my body in the direction of the ute. “Shiiiiiit!” I growl, watching bright orange flames spew out from under the crushed hood.

I run. It almost feels as though I’m moving in slow motion, but I can’t risk my only chance of a brighter future going up in smoke. I estimate I’ve only minutes for a chance of claiming it back.

“What are you doing?” follows in a screech behind me when I make it to the passenger side of the utility.

I flick my head over my shoulder only to find the lunatic of a redhead coming after me. “Where’s Roxie?” I shout. She’s no longer holding her. Come to think of it she hasn’t been holding Roxie for a while. Her hands were on my chest. Her fingers brushed my neck. Shit! Where’s Roxie? “Stay back,” I instruct with dominance.

“Are you crazy?” Her tight dark dress seems to be hampering her pursuit until, without warning, she takes the bottom of her dress and reefs the material upwards from her knees until it’s exposing the bottom of her knickers.

“Are you fucking crazy? Stay back.” The smoke is thickening and the closer she seems to be getting, the harder it is to see her. “Woman, stop. Just stop.”

She’s either deaf or incredibly stupid because she doesn’t heed my plea.

Shifting my attention back to the task at hand, I slip my arm into the ute through the open window and try desperately to pop open the glove box. It’s jammed and seems to have been crushed in the collision. “Please Lord, I’m not one for praying, but I have people to help with this money, and you’re fucking up my plans.” Every heave I make sends a million pinpricks stabbing into my bicep, and it almost has me giving up.

With the smoke now so thick I can barely breathe, I make one last attempt. Somehow, I manage to remove the entire front of the glove box in one piece. Dropping it, I rummage around in a panic. I can’t see shit, but I latch onto a handful of what I believe to be the books I’m seeking.

“What are you doing?” I cough out as I’m struck in the back by someone who clearly hits like a girl. “Hey, quit it.”

Hunched over, I try to make my getaway, but my lungs are not co-operating and every breath is seemingly impossible.

“I have you. Just keep walking.” Her hand betrays her because even though she spoke in such a calm manner, her quivering touch as she wraps her bone-thin arm in mine tells me she’s petrified.

“Run,” I manage to choke out.

“I can’t leave you.”

“Run!” I’m fiercer in deliverance this time.

“Okay,” she splutters.

The loss of her support doesn’t go unnoticed, and as I stumble, I watch her long pin legs moving farther away.

A loud explosion ricochets off my bones and sends me flying. I hit the ground with a hard thud. Darkness spots my eyes as I blink rapidly.

I hope the girl made it out in time.