The Survivors, стр. 55
Trish reached the tip of the rocks and Kieran was about to call out – a warning or something, he wasn’t sure – when to his astonishment, she took the bulk in both hands and, with some effort, swung her arms through a graceful arc and hurled it straight into the sea.
Kieran’s mouth opened, letting in salt water. Locals never threw things into their ocean. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever seen someone toss something in. Even the floral tributes to Bronte had been placed well above the tideline so the plastic wrapping wouldn’t float away. Trish watched the grey shape bob once or twice and then, with Kieran still wondering if it had somehow been an accident, she stepped away from the brink, picked her way back over the rocks, and walked straight across the beach to disappear the way she’d come. The whole thing had taken less than a minute from start to finish and the beach was deserted once again. It was like she had never been there.
Except – Kieran swivelled now in the water, turning back to the outcrop. The grey object was still visible, floating out to sea. He’d made the decision before he’d even fully formed the question and was cutting through the water with long freestyle strokes. He could feel the current pulling him and did a quick check, head up, wiping the water from his eyes. The shape had drifted even further, well into the deep water. All around Kieran, the light was fading and the horizon to the east was a silvery line. He thought about Mia and Audrey and slowed.
He could see the object was taking on water fast now, its air pockets leaking. It hung low and heavy in the water, barely breaking the surface. One try, Kieran decided. He put his face down and kicked hard.
It was gone by the time he reached the spot. He drew in a full breath, upended his body and dove, fingers outstretched, eyes open but blind in the black water. His lungs were tight from the effort of the swim and he knew as soon as he was under that he hadn’t got enough air to go deep. He was on the verge of kicking up – back to the surface and the air, back to Mia and Audrey – when his fingers grazed fabric.
A bag. Kieran swung his arm and caught a strap, clamping it tightly in his fist. He pulled. The bag was heavy and it jerked his arm, dragging him deeper. He tightened his grip, turned his face upwards and kicked.
He gasped as he broke through to the air, treading water for a minute as he caught his breath. He ran his free hand over the bag. Some sort of backpack he could tell now. It felt like it was growing heavier by the second and at last, worried he would drop it, Kieran began battling his way back to shore.
He carried the bag out, dumping it face up in the sand, and flopped down next to it, his heart pounding. It was an ordinary grey backpack, from what he could see in the dying light. It appeared in good condition other than being soaking wet. Possibly even brand new. Kieran kneeled next to it. He hesitated, but only for a second. He reached out, unzipped the flap and looked in.
Kieran blinked, not understanding what he was seeing. The bag was filled with rocks. He put his hand in and pulled out the top one. It was definitely a rock, the kind that lay around every garden or pathway in Evelyn Bay. He turned it over in his hand. It seemed completely unremarkable. He put it down on the sand, then reached in again and again. Soon he had a small pile of rocks and a completely empty backpack. Kieran felt around inside, checking for anything caught in the lining or an inside pocket. There was nothing else in there.
He sat back on the sand and picked up the bag itself. There was no nametag, nothing to indicate who it belonged to, but as he turned it over he stopped. Across the back, and hard to make out in what was left of the light, he saw something. The writing had been made on the pale grey canvas in permanent black marker. It had survived the water unscathed.
A phone number, and two words: Please call.
Chapter 21
Kieran stared at the two words until the letters started to lose meaning. Then he replaced each rock in the bag and carried the whole thing back along the beach to where his towel, clothes and phone were still waiting for him on the sand beyond his parents’ verandah. He picked up his phone, turned the bag over and dialled the number. He listened without speaking, then slowly hung up.
Kieran slipped his hoodie on and, at a loss what to do next, sat on his towel with the backpack at his feet and the clear starry sky above him. He stared out at the perfect straight line where the inky sky met the blackness of the water, thinking. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, but his board shorts had almost dried when his phone pinged in his hand.
Kieran wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but when he checked the screen it was simply an alert that reminded him to stop for two minutes and be fully aware and present in his surroundings. He was supposed to do it every day but hadn’t managed once since he’d been back in Evelyn Bay. He was still gazing at his phone and debating whether or not