ZOEY [Featured Story]

III

Zoey and Hopkins tumbled around the tiny space like clothes in a dryer, sliding off the slippery seat into the space below. She banged her head and knees on the hard metal. The bike swerved from side to side and changed speed all the time making her tummy turn. It went slow at first, then faster and faster until Zoey thought the bike would fall apart. The sound of the engine deafened her, and it shook so much that she couldn't feel her arms and legs anymore. At one point it bumped over something on the road and she felt like she was floating in the air for a moment.

She found the seatbelt and held onto it. Looking up, she saw the stars and the moon, big and round, and realised the jacket she'd had over her head was gone. In a way she was glad. No matter how fast the bike went, or how much it swerved, the moon kept up with her, followed every turn, watching her, keeping her safe.

They went on like that for such a long time - her, Hopkins, the man, and the moon. Zoey felt sure the road had to run out soon. It couldn't go on forever, could it? But maybe it could. Maybe this was what Forever really was. Zoey hadn't understood what Forever was before. Sometimes, on a good day, her mummy would tell her that she loved her Forever, and she'd never hurt her as long as there were stars shining in the sky. But the next day when she caught Zoey wearing her favourite red shoes with the tall heels, she screamed at her and pushed her over, and then threw one of the shoes at her when Zoey tried to run away. Zoey realised that during the day there were no stars, and Forever wasn't really that long after all.

By the time the bike started slowing down, Zoey had forgotten where she was. The stars and the moon were all she could see, and they seemed to dance and shake around before her eyes. Then they hit another bump and Zoey was knocked down again. The bike came to a sudden, jolting stop, and a tree branch crashed down on top of the bike, blocking her view of the sky. There was a groan, and the man threw up loudly. More coughing, rustling of leaves, then there was a shuddering crash and snapping twigs as something came through the branches towards her. It was a hand, covered in cuts, dripping blood, the fingers twitching and grasping. Zoey pressed herself back as far as she could into the corner, out of its reach.

Gradually, the twitches became weaker and weaker until the fingers drooped and began to curl up slightly. The only sound was the slow pat, pat, pat of blood dripping onto the seat. Zoey closed her eyes. With her eyes closed she could almost believe it was just rain dripping from the gutters, or milk spilling off the counter from a knocked over carton. As the sound of her own pounding heart faded away in her ears, she started to hear birds singing. Some of them she recognised. There was the coo coo of Mr Pigeon talking to his friend in the next tree. And the silly song of Mr Magpie. They were the same sounds she heard outside her window every morning as she lay in bed listening to the world wake up.

Zoey hugged her legs. Maybe if she kept her eyes closed she could go back to her own bed. Soon she would hear the water running as Daddy took his shower. The coffee pot would start hissing and gurgling, and she would hear the toaster pop and the scrape of the knife as Mummy made her breakfast. She could already smell the coffee and burnt toast. But when she opened her eyes, the hand was still there, pale and covered in dark streaks like a piece of blue cheese, with black fingernails. Still dripping. Pat, pat, pat.

Then she heard a sound forty hundred times worse. It was the sound she'd been dreading. The slow click, click, click of teeth. It was followed by a rattling breath, like a cricket bat dragged on concrete, and a deep gasp. It was too much. As the hand opened and the swollen knuckles cracked back to life, Zoey screamed.

She knew she was supposed to stay quiet. Uncle Bear had told her to stay just as quiet as a mouse and she'd said she could do it, but now she just couldn't help it. She cried as hard as she could, pulled at her hair, hit the floor with her fists and kicked her feet. Her eyes were blurry and stinging from crying. The gasps from outside grew shorter and faster, more eager. She could hear the breaths rushing in and out of its throat, and its teeth clicking hard. In, out, out, click, in, in, out, out, out, click, click. Every now and then a little cry of excitement would escape with the breaths. The branches that protected her shook and broke as the hand reached and reached and reached, fingernails scraped at the seat, so Zoey screamed louder to drown it out.