BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Title Page
  5. Intoroduction
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EITHT
  14. NINE
  15. TEN
  16. ELEVEN
  17. TWELVE
  18. THIRTEEN
  19. FOURTEEN
  20. FIFTEEN
  21. SIXTEEN
  22. SEVENTEEN
  23. EIGHTEEN
  24. NINETEEN
  25. TWENTY
  26. TWENTY-ONE
  27. TWENTY-TWO
  28. TWENTY-THREE
  29. TWENTY-FOUR
  30. TWENTY-FIVE
  31. TWENTY-SIX
  32. TWENTY-SEVEN
  33. TWENTY-EIGHT
  34. TWENTY-NINE
  35. THIRTY
  36. THIRTY-ONE
  37. THIRTY-TWO
  38. THIRTY-THREE
  39. THIRTY-FOUR
  40. THIRTY-FIVE
  41. THIRTY-SIX
  42. THIRTY-SEVEN
  43. THIRTY-EIGHT
  44. THIRTY-NINE
  45. FORTY
  46. FORTY-ONE
  47. FORTY-TWO
  48. FORTY-THREE
  49. FORTY-FOUR
  50. FORTY-FIVE
  51. FORTY-SIX
  52. FORTY-SEVEN
  53. FORTY-EIGHT
  54. FORTY-NINE
  55. FIFTY
  56. FIFTY-ONE
  57. FIFTY-TWO
  58. FIFTY-THREE
  59. FIFTY-FOUR
  60. FIFTY-FIVE
  61. FIFTY-SIX
  62. FIFTY-SEVEN
  63. FIFTY-EIGHT
  64. FIFTY-NINE
  65. SIXTY
  66. SIXTY-ONE
  67. SIXTY-TWO
  68. SIXTY-THREE
  69. SIXTY-FOUR
  70. SIXTY-FIVE
  71. SIXTY-SIX
  72. SIXTY-SEVEN
  73. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  74. CLIMATE EMERGENCY
  75. Copyright

In through the gaping front door of one of the new houses, into the darkness of its shell-like rooms, and out through the back into more mud we run. I force myself to get ahead of Dana and start to lead her towards a rack of scaffolding that looks familiar. I don’t need to look back to know that Carl is gaining on us, each shout and insult louder than his last. As we squeeze down what looks like an impossible gap between two houses, a gap that I’m certain has narrowed since last time I was here, clogged up with bits of brick and roof tile underfoot, we emerge into the space I was hoping to find, the wooden hoarding rising tall in front of us.

‘It’s a dead end,’ Dana gasps, trying to catch a breath.

‘No it’s not. Wait.’

I grab at the wooden boards and try to prize them open, but they’re not shifting. The gap I crawled through a few months ago has been nailed shut. There’s a short length of iron rod poking out of a small pile of rubble. I grab it and start working away at the corner of the hoarding. Dana gets the idea, and she takes the rod while I get my hands behind the wood again and start to heave against the nails. With a sharp pop, the wood is free, and there’s the hole again, just big enough to get through.

Carl’s shouts are getting even closer. He’s inside the gap between the houses.

Dana goes first as I hold the wood back. I throw the iron rod through after her and wedge myself under the panel. But the angles are all wrong. Every time I move forward I pull the wooden boards closed on myself, and Dana can’t get enough weight behind it from her side to keep it open. My shoulders and most of my torso are through, but my waist is stuck. I roll onto my back, pounding away at the wooden board as it pins me down, stuck against the waistband of my jeans.

Squirming against the slick mud, I manage to get one leg out. I put all of my strength into it, pushing against the wood which moans but won’t release me. Then I feel strong hands on my other leg, pulling me back. Carl’s voice seething, incoherent, like a slavering dog.

Panic rising in me, I push again as hard as I can and with a splintering groan the wood suddenly splits and the corner of the board snaps off. My leg, behind the board, carries on and connects with a part of Carl, knocking him backwards. He lets go.