Disharmony

have gone along with everything?

Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down on it, hard. They’d promised to explain everything to Lala. Would they do that, or would they just let everyone think she’d been abducted, or worse? How could she trust either of them? How could they send her here with nothing, no one?

Although the rain was little more than a frigid mist now, the chill had saturated the leather jacket; she tugged the collar up around her ears and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. There were very few pedestrians, and those who passed her wore coats and scarves. She began to walk again, left this time. She imagined herself up there in one of the hotel rooms with Mirela, Tamas and Shofranka. And a hot shower and food and a bed.

Well, that’s not going to happen, Samantha, she told herself. And it’s not like you haven’t slept outdoors before. And they call this winter? Winter in Romania would give these people a lesson about winter, she thought, trying to rally her spirits, fearing that if she didn’t, she would sit down in a puddle right there and give up.

Find somewhere drier, away from the wind and rain and bunk down for the night, she told herself. Tomorrow’s another day. You can look for Luke tomorrow. She ignored the other voice telling her that tomorrow that would be just as impossible as tonight.

She rounded another corner. And gasped. Right above her, rearing like a massive grey dragon, was the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Even from underneath its enormous belly, there was no mistaking it. She hugged her arms about her chest, staring upward, open-mouthed, and was so captivated by the bridge that she missed the feeling of threat until she heard voices. Drunk males. Three of them, twenty metres ahead and closing.

Sam knew they’d seen her. A thread of adrenalin wired its way into her bloodstream. She quickly scanned the ground for something she could use as a weapon: a bottle, a rock. Nothing. She reached into her bag, eyes on them, sizing them up. She knew she could easily outrun the two fat ones; they looked to be having a hard time of it just walking, let alone chasing her. The shorter skinny one, wearing a knitted beanie pulled down almost to his eyes, looked as though he could run, and like he knew what he wanted. Her.

Sam pulled the phone from her bag. If they thought she was talking to someone, or that she could call the police, they might leave her alone. And besides, it was the hardest object she had. If she did have to run and Skinny could keep up with her, she’d make sure she took all his teeth out with it if he tried to touch her.

She flipped open the scarlet case of the phone and almost dropped it. Impossible! The screen glowed green. A cursor flashed patiently, waiting for input. Oh my God! But there’s no battery? She stared at the phone, stunned. Her heart began to race with excitement.

‘Hello, gorgeous.’

The drunks had reached her. Skinny, who’d greeted her, already stood too close.

Oh, I so do not have time for this, she thought. Not now.

‘GET LOST!’ she screamed at the top of her lungs, pushing out a wave of anger-emotion.

To her surprise it worked. They backed away and shuffled off with curses she was glad she couldn’t understand.

She turned back to the phone. How was it working? What else could it do? Suddenly, she realised that Seraphina had given her this phone for a reason. Maybe she’d be able to talk to her? What if it could somehow connect her to her brother, to Luke?

The cold air transformed her rapid breaths into steam, and her fingers trembled as she hovered them over the keypad. There was no number she knew to dial – she only hoped the phone knew what to do.

Holding her breath, feeling more optimism than she’d experienced in more than two days, she pressed the Send button. And waited.

Nothing.

The cursor flashed just as before. She frowned at it, struggling to think of something else to try, when she heard a footstep immediately behind her.

She spun, ready to attack or bolt. Or both.

A boy stood there. She jumped back quickly, her hand over her mouth. He felt familiar. He felt confused. He felt strangely broken.

‘Luke?’ she said.

The boy just looked at her, blinking. She stared back.

Taller than her, and older, she guessed, by maybe a couple of years, the boy wore jeans and a black-and- white-striped T-shirt. She glanced down at his feet – no shoes. He had to be freezing. He had brown-black hair, blue eyes and full lips. He wore a slightly worried half-frown. She had a sudden, ridiculous urge to reach up and stroke his beautiful face. He seemed so puzzled, so childlike.

‘Who are you?’ she said. He wasn’t Luke, she instinctively knew that.

The boy said nothing.

Okay, she thought. I must just be tired. This boy doesn’t have anything to do with me. The thought made her desperately sad. She had so wanted something to happen. Maybe he’s lost, she thought. Well, I’m definitely the wrong person to look to for help. She began to walk away.

She heard him following and turned again, preparing to scream at him too. But she couldn’t do it; he stared down at her so innocently.

‘What do you want?’ she said.

He reached a hand around behind his back and she tensed, ready to run. But he pulled a folded notepad from his back pocket, holding it out towards her.

She frowned. Maybe he couldn’t speak and he had something written on there, to help him if he got lost. He certainly didn’t look as though he should be out here alone tonight. Knowing she couldn’t help him, she took the notepad anyway.

‘What have you got here?’ she said, opening it. ‘Are you lost?’

It took her a couple of seconds to register what she was looking at. When she did, she threw the notepad as though it had burned her. She stood there, wild eyed, trying to process what she had seen. The boy ran after his pad, retrieved it and held it to his chest. He faced her, head slightly askance. She felt suddenly weak at the knees.

He’d shown her an ink drawing of a person that was unmistakeably her, standing right here in the shadow of the bridge, holding a phone. And beside her was the boy, wearing a striped T-shirt and no shoes and clutching a notepad.

What the hell?

‘Were you watching me?’ she said. ‘Why did you draw that?’

The boy stood there morosely. The drawing astounded her – there was such incredible detail. She couldn’t have been here for more than five minutes – how had he captured everything so perfectly? Actually, not perfectly, she suddenly realised; there had been other people in his depiction, and a bus pulled over to watch fireworks over the harbour.

Sam shook her head tiredly. She turned to walk away, unable to deal with this strange stalker-artist after everything else that had happened tonight.

And right then a bus rounded the street corner ahead and the harbour exploded in coloured pinwheels and shooting stars of light.

Sam sat down hard on the footpath and stared at the cascading fireworks, at the bus, and at the tourists piling out to snap photos. Beyond the railing a frigid mist rippled over the harbour.

She could not find a word to say.

Elizabeth Bay, Sydney, Australia

July 2, 7.20 p.m.

Luke bumped into the wall on the way to the bathroom and giggled. He frowned. He’d never giggled before.

Suddenly all thoughts were ejected from his mind as he was shoulder-charged from his feet, into the air,