He’d not been along this path in years but his feet remembered the way. A narrow dirt track, almost overgrown with the soft, long grass which favoured this part of the property, followed a ridge for a hundred metres or so before veering away from the drop. There was a dip where trees began to offer some shelter, and then a rise.
For good measure, he called again, ‘Melanie! Wait for me.’
If Farrelly wasn’t on his heels he had no backup plan.
Vince’s head spun from exertion and his legs were buckling. Every breath was gasped and painful. But he found the copse of a dozen grown trees—a far cry from the tiny saplings he’d planted with Susie so long ago.
Staggering to the closest one, he threw himself behind it, sucking in air. He had nothing left in the tank. Farrelly would find him and kill him, but he’d bought time for Melanie to get to safety. It was all that mattered. He’d kept her safe.
His hand pressed against the tree.
Susie planted this.
They’d spent endless hours up here, preparing the ground, planting, hauling water all the way.
‘Look what we did, Daddy.’
Startled, he glanced around the trunk but there was nothing other than the other trees.
‘One day these will feed and shelter us. Isn’t that cool?’
I’ve lost the plot.
Sunlight streamed through the half-grown trees as fifteen-year-old Susie danced around them.
‘Come and see this one. Look at the branch on the ground here. And where it fell from. Come on, Dad. Use your eyes.’
He followed her to the tree but when he reached out to touch her arm there was only the dark air.
At his feet, about the length of a baseball bat was a thick branch. And at his shoulder height, its jagged remains made a hook on the tree.
Vince ripped his jacket off and hung it.
He grabbed the branch and retreated into the night.