Launched! (6 page)

‘Hand us that rag, will you?’

The next day after school the kids met at The Van armed with cotton wool and lacquer thinner borrowed from Mrs Jacobs, and paint remover and rags from Mr Lark. They scrubbed and scoured. The paint remover and lacquer thinner took away the graffiti, but they also took away some of the beautiful artwork underneath.

‘How sad,’ said Clem. Despite their best efforts, the rainbow still resembled a thundercloud.

‘It’s best to clean the graffiti off real quick or there’ll be heaps more,’ cautioned Bryce, his extra-zealous arm action making his fringe flip-flop in his eyes. ‘Best thing would be to paint the whole van. Cover it up completely.’

‘Too expensive,’ said Darcy. ‘Where would we get the money? Last time I checked none of us were millionaires.’

‘We don’t have to be millionaires,’ snapped Bryce. His fringe flip-flopped faster.

After a lot of rubbing and scrubbing, scraping and aching, The Van was looking like a faded version of its old familiar self.

‘This is hard work,’ said Bryce. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Me too.’

‘Whose turn is it for food?’ asked Bryce.

‘Mine,’ said Clem. ‘Don’t worry. Give me a sec.’ When she pulled out an apple, orange and banana from her school pack Bryce’s face fell. But when she reached in and took out a bag of loose biscuits, some chocolate sprinkles, jelly worms and raisins, his face lit up.

‘What’re we having?’ he asked.

‘You’ll see.’ Then Clem did something that made Tong wonder if his friend had gone a little loopy. Checking to make sure the plastic bag was sealed properly, Clem placed the bag of biscuits on the floor and stomped on it with her foot.

Tong wondered if this was some strange local cooking custom and tried not to look too incredulous.

Clem stomped again, and again, and again, and again, till finally the biscuits looked like breadcrumbs.

‘Feel better?’ asked Darcy with a smirk, then he grabbed the apple and took a huge chomp, its tart sweetness making his tastebuds
zwang-ng-ng.

‘Shut your trap, Darcy Jacobs, or you won’t be getting any.’ Clem took a large plastic bowl from her school bag and poured the crushed biscuits into it. Next, she tossed in the chocolate sprinkles, closely followed by the jelly worms and raisins. ‘Get us some spoons and plastic cups please, Bryce,’ said Clem. Taking a spoon she stirred up the mix, then scooped it into six cups. ‘One for Bella,’ she said. She looked around the group with a grin, announcing, ‘Bugs and dirt. Come ‘n’ get it.’

The kids shovelled in mouthfuls. Bugs and dirt scattered everywhere. Bella was in her element. Her long pink tongue snuffled up the contents of her cup in record time, then she turned her attention to the crumbs on the floor.

‘She’s better than a vacuum cleaner,’ said Bryce. He watched Bella push her snout between the milk crates, going lick, lick, lick, the white tip of her tail quivering with excitement.

‘Any more thoughts about that girl?’ asked Mio, wiping her mouth with a tissue and running her tongue over her teeth to check that they were clean.

‘Lots of thinking but no answers,’ said Bryce. ‘I hope she got away.’

‘Me, too.’

‘We’re going to have to stay away from the station.’

‘Better to keep our distance,’ agreed Bryce.

When he’d had his fill, Darcy asked, ‘Where are we going to train for the bike trials then?’

‘On the street.’ Clem brushed the crumbs from her lap, sending Bella into another state of rapture. ‘Or Linley Park.’

Darcy leant back on his milk crate, clasping his hands behind his head. ‘We’ve done the park to death,’ he said.

‘He’s right. For once,’ added Bryce. ‘We’ve ridden across, balanced on, practised ups and drops and stands on everything that’s tied down. Or not tied down, for that matter.’

‘The bus depot’s out. School’s out. Train station’s out. We’re running out of places to practise.’ Clem flung her hands in the air. ‘Any suggestions?’

‘I have one,’ said Mio.

All eyes turned.

‘The Peak.’

Nobody stirred or said a word. The Peak. How perfect.

‘If we go up there we’ll see what we’re up against,’ said Darcy, nodding in agreement.

‘It would give us an edge on the opposition.’

‘Could break us.’

‘Or make us.’

The Peak it was.

The kids rode for twenty minutes on the flat before the ground banked upwards. At first the rise wasn’t too bad, but it soon got steeper and steeper. There wasn’t much talking going on. Bodies swayed from side to side as the effort took its toll. By the time the kids arrived at the top, there was some serious muscle burn happening.

‘These bike trials,’ huffed Darcy. ‘I’ve worked out their psychology. The Peak’s so high they eliminate nine-tenths of the entrants before they even arrive.’

‘Sure is a killer,’ said Clem, sweat pouring off her face. In irritation she grabbed a hair elastic from around her wrist and tied her hair back into a ponytail, leaving the last loop of hair halfway through so it looked like a messy bun. She shook her head from side to side, enjoying the cool air on her neck, and announced, ‘Much better.’

‘Do that climb every day and we’re going to be fit,’ said Mio.

‘Have big fit,’ said Tong. Everyone burst out laughing, to his confusion.

‘Got it in one,’ said Bryce, reaching over and giving Tong a gentle poke.

The kids wheeled their bikes through a large entranceway, past a sign that said
Children 12 years
and under to be supervised by an adult,
up a gravel road and round a bend. Then they stopped, all eyes raised.

The Peak got its name not only from the steep climb to reach it, but also from a tower up at the very top. The tower was about 5 metres high with a wooden ladder leading to a wooden platform from which you could survey the extensive grounds below. A flimsy railing was all that stood between someone on the platform and certain injury, or death. Huge bolts had been hammered into the platform, causing the aged wood to split in places. There was also a massive post built into the tower. Numerous ropes and cables were attached to it. One rope, pulled taut, was threaded through a pulley and attached to another post about 40 metres away. A wire rope was clipped onto the pulley and encased by solid metal nuts, and to this was attached a handle, padded with black rubber, and another looped rope of hemp. This way, someone could sit or stand in the loop or hang on to the handle and ride a hair-raising few seconds to the bottom. On the ground immediately below there was a pile of inner tubes, positioned to break your fall should you let go.

‘Flying-fox,’ said Clem, her eyes aglow.

Tong ducked. ‘Where fox?’ he asked.

‘Not a dog sort of fox. A flying-fox. Like a bat,’ explained Clem. Tong frowned as he tried to work out what she meant. Flapping her arms in an attempt at a bat imitation Clem asked, ‘Don’t you have bats in Vietnam?’

‘Ah, bats.’ Tong nodded as he thought of the Kashmir Cave Bat and the Vietnam Leaf-nosed Bat he’d seen at the Hanoi Zoo. ‘Yes, we have bats.’ He looked around, his brow furrowed, and asked, ‘Where bat?’

Mio groaned. ‘Cable ride,’ she said. Then she pretended to hold onto a handle, with her legs tucked up and said, ‘Wee-ee-ee-ee-ee.’

‘Wee?’

‘Don’t even go there,’ said Clem with a groan. To solve the problem she began to climb the ladder to the platform.

‘Careful, Clem,’ warned Darcy, who was not as good at heights as his twin.

When Clem stepped to the railing and looked down, the ground started to sway. She clung on. ‘Whoa. It’s awful high up here.’ She peered into the distance, marvelling at how far she could see—the train station was a mere speck. Her stomach clenched as she tentatively grasped the flying-fox handle and sat with her legs dangling over the platform.

‘
Ki o tsukete
! [Be careful!]’ Mio squeezed her eyes together but peeped through the lashes saying, ‘I can’t look,’ as Clem launched off.

‘Aaaah-h-h-h-h-h-h!’ hollered Clem…until halfway down, when she began to enjoy herself and stopped. She turned her face into the breeze, her red hair trailing behind, a half-grin, half-grimace as she watched the ground approaching with exponential speed. But just as she thought she’d crash, the pulley ran into a huge knot in the rope, causing her legs to fly up as if to kick the sky, then to jerk earthwards, so that when she let go she fell on her feet. ‘Whoo-hooooo!’ she screamed, her fist raised as though she was knocking on heaven to announce her victory. Answering screams could be heard in the distance. Examining the pulley, Clem saw how you could untie the looped rope and use it to drag the flying-fox back up the platform.

‘My turn,’ called Darcy, dropping his bike to scale the ladder himself. From the top he admired the obstacle course. There were wooden crates all higgledy-piggledy in piles, loose beams and small platforms with planks going from one to another. In some places the plank ended at a small doorway, where the rider would have to duck in order to ride through to the other side. A monstrous underground water pipe lay on its side,
providing its own challenges. He walked to the other side of the platform and looked down. On this side the ladder was wider and made of rope, like a giant web eager to trap unsuspecting climbers.

As he watched Clem’s slow progress back up the hill, a movement caught Darcy’s eye. They were not alone. At the far boundary of The Peak, a group of riders were picking their way over a section where the ground looked like a river bed split with cracks and crevices. Darcy watched the intricate steering and balancing that was needed to find the line that would let them cross to the other side.

‘Go, Darcy!’ yelled Tong.

‘Bet you’re too scared,’ teased Clem as she neared the platform.

‘Sh! Sh!’ Darcy was pointing in-between shushes, then covering his mouth, looking like a translator for the deaf who’d forgotten his words.

‘What?’ called Clem, causing Darcy to shake his head in frustration.

‘Riders!’ he hissed. ‘Over there.’

The kids froze. The last thing they were expecting was company. Clem was close enough to tie the rope to the wooden ladder. For the second time she scaled the steps to the top of the platform. She crouched down, then belly-walked
over to Darcy, who was now lying down. In no time at all Tong and Mio had joined them, lying on their stomachs. Bella scampered willy-nilly, absorbing the new smells with glee, oblivious to the heightening drama.

Bryce stepped upwards, one rung at a time, but as soon as his feet were higher than his own height, an electric shock of fear shot through him. He hated the way his legs and arms shook but there was nothing for it: he needed both feet anchored to the ground. ‘I’ll mind Bella,’ he called, stepping down, glad the others were too absorbed to give him a ribbing. As he followed Bella and watched her snuffling along the ground, he wondered if it was true what they said about animals. Could they really smell fear?

From their vantage point the kids could see four riders manoeuvring their way through the obstacle course with varying degrees of skill. Darcy noted the leader’s careful moves, how he picked his way through the rocks and dirt, not taking the most direct route but the one that must be safest, and admired his tactics. Because sometimes the shortest route took the longest, and precious time could be wasted in a bike trial. Once over the broken surface the kids rode up a rock ledge and pulled up on their handlebars to balance in a line like Spanish dancing stallions in a horse show.

‘We can’t do that,’ said Darcy with a groan. His heart sank as they balanced for one second, three, five before dropping and zooming off the rock.

‘They’re good,’ said Mio.

‘Much good.’

‘Wonder who they are,’ said Clem.

‘Hope they’re not in the bike trial,’ said Darcy, his heart sinking further as they upped a brick wall without toppling back.

‘Probably are,’ said Mio.

‘Oh, yay,’ said Clem.

In the distance the kids could see that the riders had stopped on a level patch of ground and were all balancing in a stationary position. ‘What’re they doing?’ whispered Mio.

‘Just track stands,’ scoffed Darcy.

‘More than track stands,’ said Mio.

It was hard to make out exactly what was going on, but the other riders seemed to be spinning their front wheel with one foot.

‘They’re going backwards,’ said Clem.

And sure enough, each rider executed a very small backward, no-hand circle.

So engrossed were they that they didn’t realise Bryce wasn’t with them, much less approaching the riders, till they spotted him
only several metres away, far too distant to be able to warn.

Bryce walked around a set of three cylinders, like giant wooden cotton spools, and came to a crashing halt. His breath came in shallow rasps, sounding like revs in his ears, and his heart went full throttle.

The riders came down in a fantastic display of arms and wheels and spokes, saddles, legs and heads.

But it didn’t take long for them to spring to their feet and advance menacingly. Bryce scuffled backwards, shocked by the fire and fury that blazed on faces partially hidden by chin straps and helmets.

‘Watch it!’ growled one boy.

Bryce noticed that he wore shin pads with short socks; he looked like a nerd. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know you were there.’

‘Could’ve done some serious damage,’ spat another rider, retrieving his bike and inspecting it for dings and scratches. ‘Hey!’ He pointed to the gouge down the tube of his bike. ‘You owe me.’

‘I do not!’

The boy strode up to Bryce, his hands splayed in anger. He stopped, his face close, his body in a fight stance, palms now curled.

On top of the tower the kids could see enough to be alarmed.

‘Come on,’ cried Mio, dropping down the ladder as though it were a fireman’s pole. ‘We’ve got to help him.’

‘Bryce!!!’ hollered Darcy. ‘We’re coming-ng-ng!’ He, too, scooted down the ladder, with Tong and Clem close behind. They charged off in Bryce’s direction.

The bikers gave no sign that they’d heard Darcy, but Bryce knew they must have. Which meant they knew reinforcements were coming. Which meant that their attack, if they decided to go through with it, would have to be swift.

Bryce tried to avoid eye contact with the boy in front of him, which was proving to be as difficult as not looking at an eclipse, even when you’ve been warned of the danger. ‘I don’t owe you anything.’

‘You asking for it?’ goaded the boy.

Bryce had seen this technique before. Get your victim distracted then go in for the surprise attack. Bryce knew what to do.
Not
give these thugs any more reason to bash him than they already had.

‘I was checking out the equipment,’ said Bryce, praying that his voice held steady. ‘Never been up The Peak before.’

He glanced around, trying to work out how to get away. Another biker sidled up beside the first.
With their headgear on it was hard to get a good look at their faces. A third one followed, then a fourth. By now Bryce was a sweat-ball of fear. Four against one was lousy odds. As the fourth one drew close the first one put on his gloves. Another bad sign.

‘No harm done,’ said Bryce. The gloved hand pushed him, and Bryce braced for the hooking punch he knew would follow. He held up his hands, palms open, to his attacker. He knew this sort—probably won his first fight before the end of preschool, the type who’d look for a fight ‘just becoz’. Bryce looked at the boy and read all the tell-tale signs: fists curled tight, head lowered, glance to point of attack. He knew that if he didn’t talk his way out of this quick smart he would be taking the first strike.

‘Do you like beagles?’ he asked. By the way the boy dropped his hands a fraction and raised his head, Bryce knew he’d taken him by surprise. ‘Aren’t they just the cutest? My beagle’s around here somewhere. Name’s Bella. Bella-a-a! She’ll be here soon, she will.’

Bryce breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the boy lower from the balls of his feet and push his head, neck and shoulders back to look around.

‘She’s such a cheeky little thing. And did I say she was a garbage guts? Eats everything in sight.’

Suddenly the boy reared up again. Bryce ducked and side-stepped, the fist whizzing close to his left ear. He waited for the explosion of pain but none came. The boy had missed. A loud grunt filled the air but it wasn’t a kick-to-the-ribs or punch-to-the-head sort of grunt. It was a Bella grunt. She started to growl, hackles raised, nose and tail twitching.

‘Bella!’

She bounded over.

The biker yanked her out of the way by the scruff of her neck and threw her to the ground. She yelped, then latched onto his arm. Harsh guttural sounds welled from her throat as she clamped her jaws tighter.

‘Ahh-h-h-h!’ The biker shook Bella off and bolted before she could bite him again. ‘Mongrel dog.’

The other riders scuttled backwards, side-stepping the ferocious ball of snapping teeth.

‘Bryce!’ called Darcy. ‘Where are you?’

‘Over here.’

The Freewheelers burst onto the scene just in time to see the other riders leap onto their bikes and take off. They hooted in triumph and surrounded Bryce, slapping him on the back and congratulating each other. Bella weaved in and out of legs, happy to be with ‘her pack’.

But suddenly, everything changed. The riders had gone only a short distance, then doubled
around and come back. Now they bore down on the Freewheelers, revenge in their hearts.

Clem scooped up Bella and tried to run. She hadn’t gone more than a few strides when a rider materialised to her right. She screamed, staggered, and darted in another direction.

‘Clem!’ Darcy bolted to her aid but another rider cut between them, forcing him away. Bryce stepped into Darcy’s place. He stood in the path of the rider, like a gladiator facing a lion, and roared, ‘No!’ Spooked, the rider swerved, close enough for Bryce to grab the handlebars and try to shake him off. But the rider wouldn’t give in. He clung to his bike with a vice-like grip, every so often trying to wrench it out of Bryce’s grasp.

Over to the side, Mio and Tong had their hands full, too. They stood back to back while two riders toyed with them. The riders zoomed up close, whizzing round and round, hollering and yelling. At first Tong and Mio stood frozen, their inactivity spurring on their attackers, but then…Mio knew karate and Tong had been taught the art of
Viêt Võ Dao,
or vovinam: use your opponent’s force and reaction for maximum benefit with minimum effort. Vovinam combined the hard and the soft in fighting, its code being ‘the strong hand on a benevolent heart’.

‘
Don Chan!
’ hissed Tong. Sweeping his leg in a smooth arc he hooked the rider around the arm. The rider squealed, caught by surprise, as his bike went one way and he stayed behind.

‘
Dam Lao!
’ A sinewy fist struck the rider’s helmet at the level of the temple. ‘
Da Canh!
’ A diagonally applied kick to the hip brought him to his knees. There was a quick scissors kick around the chest with a body twist to finish him off. It took all of a few seconds. Tong resisted the urge to jump on his opponent, and instead stood a short distance away, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

Mio dealt with the other rider. She, too, used a combination of
keri
(kicks),
tsuki
(thrusts) and
uchi
(arm strikes) to defend herself. She smiled as ‘the way of the empty hand’ brought him down.

Spurred on by Mio and Tong’s success, Darcy ran at his rider and flung himself at his opponent’s chest. He flinched as a jarring pain shot through his shoulder but quickly forgot it as he wrestled the boy to the ground. There was a fierce scuffle, with dirt and dust clouding the air. The boy fought hard but Darcy fought harder, and soon he was using his weight to pin the boy to the ground.

Now there was only one assailant left, in a deadlock with Bryce. He was twisting and turning, trying to prise his way out of Bryce’s grasp, but
Bryce clung on. The boy brought his knee up hard, catching Bryce by surprise in the low, soft part of the belly. As he doubled up with pain, he screeched to Clem, ‘Run!’ Clem hesitated, torn between her desire to help Bryce and her desire to save herself and Bella.

‘Arr-yee-ah!’ Starbursts of pain shot through Bryce’s head as his opponent headbutted him in the face. Blackness enveloped him. Blood mingled with sweat and spittle. He could feel his legs going from under him, but from somewhere deep inside he also felt an explosion of fury—fury that he’d got his friends into a stupid, stupid fight. It was up to him to end it.

The uppercut to the ribs stunned his attacker. Those one or two seconds were all Bryce needed to claim this fight back. Grabbing the boy by the shirt, he shoved him face down, wanting him to eat dirt. But he couldn’t. The helmet had to go.

Bryce slid his hand under the boy’s chin and tried to snap the chin strap open, but he couldn’t get a grip. As the boy jerked away Bryce could see that his hair was long. It hung from under the helmet in rivers of sweat caked with dust, which was quickly turning to mud. Bryce flipped the boy over and straddled his chest. But as a cry welled to the boy’s lips, it faltered and died. ‘You!’

The boy rocked and writhed under Bryce’s weight, legs and arms flailing, till with a superman push he managed to get away. He scurried to his bike and leapt on, but as he sped off something dropped from his jacket.

It was a headless doll.