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Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. About the author
  60. Copyright

But his children weren’t dead. Chandler knew it. He pursued those thoughts through the deepest, darkest parts of his brain, beat and mauled them until they never existed. Sarah and Jasper were alive. There was nothing else. They were alive. But were they together? Had one of them managed to escape and gone off to get help? Without a compass or some form of orientation it would have been difficult. Without water the same. An unseen hand twisted his stomach into knots. Why had he never taught them to navigate by the sun, or given them tips to survive in the wild? But who needed those in this day and age? Maybe if Sarah had her phone and it had some type of compass feature on it then she could navigate her way towards town. It was a possibility. Once again he had fought away the dark thoughts only for hope to rear its, by now, ugly head.

No, his kids weren’t free. If they were they would have headed towards the foot of the Hill. They knew that much at least. They had to be confined somewhere. The terrors quickly returned, his imagination let loose. They were both locked up – chained up – in a shed somewhere out here. He refused to believe that they were out in the open where they would freeze to death long before they would die of thirst. The list of killers in the wilderness was long and brutal. Mitch had only shot one of them.

He glanced behind. The past continued to haunt him, this time in the form of Mitch. Today he had appointed himself Chandler’s guardian, genuine concern written across his haggard face. The same bastard that had killed Gabriel. If his kids did die – and they wouldn’t, he reminded himself – it would be his fault. And Chandler couldn’t quite say what he would do.

53

A week passed in a blink of an eye. Like one of his fitful dozes.

The all-party search continued, the police not about to give up on one of their own easily, all resources falling under Mitch’s command, experts from West Australia and further afield dialling in via satellite phone to offer advice and tactics.

Chandler continued his torturous regime of walking twenty hours a day with a couple of short breaks for refreshment that did anything but; water that only reminded him that his children were thirsty, sandwiches that scraped his throat as if Sarah and Jasper’s fingernails were scratching at it.