Red Centre by Ansel Gough Read Free Book Online

day. The heavy load of his backpack pulled
on his shoulders like a bag of bricks. A long way to go; his head
hung low.
    Headlights coming from behind caught his
attention. He turned, holding out his index finger, trying to hitch
a ride. A look of hope lit up his face. The car didn’t stop. It
didn’t even slow down. Shawn was soon left in darkness once more.
Only the high-pitched sound of crickets to keep him company.
Realization set in—he’d be sleeping on the roadside tonight. Maybe
he should have listened to his dad and not gone at this alone. He
was used to camping, having gone many times with his father, but
this was a different country. And he was on his own. Backpacking
wasn’t the safest way to get around, but it was the cheapest. He’d
have some spare money when he got back to Sydney.
    He stopped to take a sip from his water
bottle and removed his cell phone to check the time. He knew it
would be earlier hours of the morning back home, but he also knew
there would be no phone coverage further out of town. He dialed his
father. Voice mail. Shawn left a message. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. I
thought I would just let you know that I’m heading back to Sydney.
Then I’m coming home. I’ll call you from the airport in a couple
of—”
    ***
    Chris held out his phone for Frank to hear
the recorded message. Shawn stopped talking. Something had caught
his attention. Frank leaned in to see if he could hear anything.
Nothing. Complete silence. Eerie silence.
    Shawn’s excited voice burst out once more
over the speaker-phone. “Dad! Damn! You won’t believe this!” He
laughed, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Strange
... red ... light ...”
    Chris’ small phone speaker crackled. The
remainder of the message was a mixture of distorted speaking, high
interference and then … nothing.
    “ This was the last we
heard of him. He never made it to Sydney.” Chris pocketed his
phone, his voice shaky. “Police haven’t found any trace of him. Not
a shoe, his backpack. Nothing. Like he dropped off the face of the
earth.”
    Frank folded his arms. “Are we done
here?”
    “ What do you think it
means?” Chris said in a subdued voice.
    Frank stepped forward, pulling his gun from
Chris’ loose grip. “You don’t need me to tell ya. You already know
what it means.” He rested his gun on his shoulder, ready to
leave.
    “ Is your story true?”
Chris asked with a desperate plea. “Was Emma taken?”
    “ You don’t get it, do ya?”
Frank grabbed the remaining papers off the hood and slammed them
into Chris’ hands. “Your son ain’t coming back.”
    “ I can’t believe that. I
can’t accept that.”
    “ Go home, Yankee.” Frank
turned to leave, his back facing Chris. “There’s nothin’ you can do
here.” He started to walk away, done with the
conversation.
    Chris called after him. “Did you give up? On
Emma?”
    Frank stopped, turned back to face Chris.
“They thought I killed me wife,” Frank said through clenched teeth.
He scratched his head. “Investigated me for months. I waited for
months for them to return her.” His voice cracked. “Where the hell
was I supposed to even look for her?” He looked to the bright-blue
morning sky. “Ya just gotta hang on to the memories. The good
times. There’s nothin’ else you can do. There’s no one that can
help ya.”
    “ I’m going to find my son
and I don’t care what I have to do.”
    Frank nodded and turned his back on Chris,
walking away again. “Let me know if you find a way to get him back
from up there.” He pointed to the sky.
    “ I don’t believe it! I
don’t believe you!” Chris called.
    Frank waved his arm, shrugging off his
comments. He didn’t care. “Ya said it yourself. The cops found
nothin’. Go home.”

     
     

Chapter Seven
Third Kind

    Large information sheets littered the wooden
walls of the small, run-down ranger station. Information about
vegetation, colorful birds of all kinds—kingfishers,