One Dead Seagull by Scot Gardner Read Free Book Online

e wa s bein ga bi t wimp y abou t it .I aske d him i fI coul d hav ea g o o n th e sa w an d h e fobbe d m e off.
    ‘Maybetomorro w ,
mate.Thisthing ’ s abloodybeast. Whipyourfingersoffina flash-of-where ’ s-you r -grand-mothe r .’
     
    Th e nex t afternoo n h e decide d tha t he’ d sho w m e how t o us e th e sa w .I thin k h e go t pisse d of f wit h usin g it. Wha ta beast . Cut s throug h soli d brick s lik e butte r . Dad wa s shoutin g instruction s a t m e bu t I’ d bee n watching hi m s oI kne w wha t t o do.
    ‘Justkeepthebrickmoving.Backwardsandfo r wards. Y oudon ’ t
needtopressdownhard.That ’ s it. Letthe bladedothework.’
    V e r ycool.Alittlebitsca r ywhenIgottothebottomof acutandthetwobitsfellapartinmy
hands.Iimagined beingagemcutteroroneofthosepalaeontologistswho cutopenrockstofindfossils.Thecutsu r faceofthebrick
wasshinyandsilkytotouch.
    IguessIwas gettingabitcock y .Runningmyfingerover thesideofthespinningbladeandtracingpatternsinthe wate r .Dadhadcreptupbehindmeandscaredtheshit
outofme.
    ‘Oi! Y oubloodyidiot.Keepyourmindonthejob.It ’ s
notafreakingtoy!’
    Ididn ’ tsay anotherwordthatafternoon.Griz,Ottoand afewoftheirmatesrolledup.Ithinktheywereimpressed
withthebricksawtoo.Icouldseethemoutofthecorner ofmyeye,pointingandlaughing,buttheystayedawhile. They’djustleftwhenithappened.Dadhadparkedoneof thelegsofthewheelbarrowonthehoseandunloadedthe markedbricks.AsIpiledthecutbricksintothebarro w ,
theweighthadgraduallycutoffthewatersupplytothe blade.The mudhadturnedtodust.The enginestartedto labou r .Igotaflashof
Dadrunningatme,screaming.The brickgrabbedanddraggedmeintotheblade.Myhead
smackedintothecove r .Myarmgotstuckatthebackof thebladeandIcould
feelitcuttingme.Raspingthebone. Reddust.Redblood.Black.

 

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    IwishIcouldsaythatIjustgotup,dustedmyselfoffand keptatit.That ’ swhatalwayshappenedbeforethen.Even whenDenandIwerenineandwehadthatmassivecrash onourbikesatthebottomofMerrimansCreekhill,Istill
gotupandrodehome.
    Whe n th e sa w bi t me ,I didn ’ t ge t up.
    Dadhasfilledmeinonthedetails.HesaidI hadmy eyesopenwhileitwasallgoingonbutIdon ’ tremember
athing. W eird.Likethosemomentsjustdon ’ texistinmy
mind.Hesaidheusedhissinglettostopthebleeding
frommyarmandwhenthebloodcamethroughhegot somescungyoverallsoutof histoolbox.Hewasscreaming forhelpuntil anoldladycameoutfromthehouseover
the road.Shewatchedfromherfenceforafewseconds—
wasn ’ tgametocross.
    ‘ForChrissake,’Dadfinallysaid,‘callanambulancemy son ’ sbeenhurt.’
    Then,hesaid,likea
flash-of-where ’ s-you r -grandmothe r , anambulance rockedupandablokeandawoman jumpedout—likeonthetelly—andcartedmeofftothe hospital.Sirensandlightsandeve r ything.IwishIrememberedthatbit.
    WhenIwaseightIgotreallysickandhadtogoto
hospitalfor afewdays.IhadmeaslesandIspentthe wholetime sleepingthen catchingglimpsesofpeople
loomingoverme.Itwassca r ythenandIwasinthesame
situationno w ,floatinginandoutofconsciousnessand feelingfrightenedbythepeoplehangingoverme.
    ThescariestpartwaswhenIwokeupandIcouldn ’ t move.Couldn ’ t hea r .Ishoutedout for Mum but she couldn ’ t
hearmeornosoundcameout.Mylegswere frozenandmyarmswerelikelead.Myhandhurtandit ’ s
likeIwaslookingattheworldthroughacardboardtube, watchingthepeopleinthebluegownsghostingabout.I screamedinterrorand thenitwasallblackbutIwasstill
awake.Istoppedscreaming,stillthinkingwithmyeyelids strainedopen.Like Iwas in thedeepestrainforestin SouthAmericaatnightsearchingforthefaintestlight.I knewtherewassomethingoutthere.Icouldfeelit.
    Icould hearacarin
thedistanceandit gradually
becamelouderandmoremusical.Itwasn ’ tacar;itwas seagullscawing,andascratchingsoundbehind it like someonerunning
theirfingersdownablackboard. Iwas screamingagain.Thatsoundwaseatingmybrainout.
    ‘Nooooooo.Helpme.’
    Blacksilence,thenasoundso sweetandpurethatI
couldfeelitliftingme.Thethousandscreechingseagulls