At last, the car started to move again, jolting Bernie out of his memories. They must be going up the ramp into the ship, he thought.

Finally, the car and the music stopped. There was a loud reverberating clang, the car shook slightly and then there was silence.

Bernie felt disorientated lying in the darkness. He couldn’t wait to get out.

‘Can you unlock the door now?’ he heard his mother ask.

Bernie listened to the car doors open and close, footsteps on metal flooring and muffled voices. He waited a few more minutes until he was sure they were gone.

It was only then that the thought struck him – how was he going to get out?

Bernie had a moment of panic, his heart racing, but he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

So much for his grand plan. He was beginning to realise that he hadn’t put quite enough thought into it. Oh sure, he’d worked out the first part in detail: say goodnight to his mum; go to bed fully dressed; pretend to be asleep; sneak out of the house five minutes before his mum was due to leave; conceal himself in the back of the limo. But that’s as far as his plan went. If he’d stopped to consider this before sneaking out, he might not have gone through with it.

But he’d been so concerned about his mum. She had lost a job that she loved. She had been publicly ridiculed. She had lots of bills to pay. And he was worried that she was rushing into this new job without thinking things through properly. A job that didn’t feel right. A job that would take her into the Bass Strait Triangle.

He didn’t want his mum to become a mysterious disappearance.

He fumbled about in the dark. His hands found a switch on the inside of the rear doors.

Click!

He pushed the doors open and peered out. It looked like the car had been parked in a large garage. He hardly had the chance to register where he was when a clang made him retreat. He listened as footsteps echoed. There was the sound of nearby rummaging, then more footsteps moving away. Bernie opened the doors, crept out and chanced a peek around the limo. A slightly portly man was walking between vehicles towards the far end of the garage. He wore a drab brown suit and carried a black briefcase. He disappeared from view and another clang indicated that he had left.

Bernie remained crouched behind the limo for a few minutes to make sure he was alone. Then he stood up and glanced around. All seemed clear. Taking a deep breath, he assessed his surroundings. The walls and floor were metal and there were no windows, light being supplied by florescent tubes on the ceiling. He realised that it was the cargo hold on the ship. As well as the limo, there were several jeeps, a couple of utes, a digger, various small vehicles and what looked like a hovercraft. In the far corner, there were large metal storage containers.

Bernie leaned on the limo and heard a click.

‘No,’ he whispered, as he tried the doors. He’d locked himself out. And his backpack was still inside – with his phone in it. Oh well, he thought, it wasn’t as if he’d been planning to call Aunt Millie just yet. He figured that now was the time to explore!

Behind the limo was a large roller door. He wasn’t getting out that way. Instead, he weaved his way through the other vehicles until he reached the far side of the cargo hold. He paused at the door as he heard something behind him. A buzzing sound.

He turned to see movement among the vehicles. He ducked down behind one of the nearby jeeps and watched cautiously. A black shape rose up from one of the utes. It hovered in the air, the buzzing sound echoing around the space. It was a drone. Bernie watched as it began to fly around the perimeter of the cargo hold. It was only a matter of time before it got to him.

Bernie lowered himself to the floor and edged under the jeep. He held his breath as the sound came nearer, then passed by. He rolled out from under the vehicle and stood up just in time to see the drone return to the ute.

That was odd, he thought. But he had other things to worry about.

He carefully opened the cargo hold door and peered out.

It was a grey-walled corridor. There was a door in the opposite wall and doors at either end. The one to the right had a round window. He hurried over to it and looked through. There was a deck with railing, and, beyond that, darkness.

He put his hand on the door, positioned his feet firmly on the floor and closed his eyes. He could feel movement. A steady back and forth. But there was also the vibration of engines. He felt slightly queasy at the thought of what he was doing and where he was going.

The ship was moving. Heading out to sea . . . into the Bass Strait Triangle.