Detonate

Chapter 9

Using whatever method she could, Kate made her way to Sydney. It wasn’t the closest city, but it also wasn’t the furthest. She hoped she could keep them guessing which direction they had gone in. She didn’t have friends or family there, but she thought that maybe she could blend in; after all there was a lot more people there to blend in with. 

Kate chose a cheap, out-of-the-way backpackers hotel to stay the night. It was mostly dirty, with a musky smell that hung in the air, no matter how many windows she opened. She hadn’t stayed in a lot of these kinds of places, fearing they’d ask for her ID. But an extra $50 in the hand of the bearded guy at the front bought her a room of her own for the night. It hurt, not having much money to spare, but it was necessary to have somewhere to plan out what she was going to do next. She had spent so much time and energy getting to Sydney; it was quite hard to think of what to do now.

She ran a rough hand through her now cropped, dark hair. She’d hacked it off a little while ago, dying it in a petrol station’s bathroom sink. Seeing herself on TV and in the papers was getting less and less frequent, but still she took to her hair with the stolen scissors. It wasn’t worth the risk.

The grease and dirt it made it stick up at odd angles. Kate badly wanted to wash it, but that would have to wait until later, it was a shared bathroom and she didn’t want to take a chance that she’d be recognised.

Everything Kate had done until now was all just to get her to Sydney, but now that she was here… she didn’t have a clue. She sat down on the bed. It sagged in the middle, but it had been so long since she’d slept on and actual mattress, she didn’t mind so much. The noise from the streets kept distracting her thoughts.

After some time spent between sitting and pacing, Kate had some semblance of a plan. She decided to catch a train out of the main city, into one of the surrounding suburbs. With some luck, she might be able to score a job, maybe cleaning houses, something that didn’t need a lot of identification. She could print fake resumes at the library, and offer cheap rates and made up references until she got some real ones. Then she wouldn’t have to steal anymore. Maybe even look into share houses.

With her life marginally less bleak, Kate fell asleep on the bed, fully clothed and outside the sheets. She couldn’t even muster the energy for a shower.

Hands; grabbing, clutching, pulling at her clothes, at her hair. They pushed up through the dirt beneath her. Her hands clawed at the dirt walls around her. Her heart was racing. She was in a grave, impossibly deep and the walls were closing in. Staring down the mouth of the hole was Molly, shovel in hand. Her head was at an odd angle, blood trickling from her ear. She laughed as she shovelled the dirt. It fell heavy on Kate, invading her ears, her eyes, her throat. Then blackness. 

Kate woke with a start. Another bad dream. She pushed it aside, like she did so much else. She had to. Packing her meagre possessions, she headed out. One look at the line for the bathroom told her that today was not her day. Her mood darkened.

If she wanted to admit to herself, deep down, Kate had always wanted to see Sydney. Of course, she had plans to see the world, but as a wanted murderer, she didn’t like her chances of getting a passport. Kate walked to the nearest station, jumped the styles and took the train to Main Station.

 It was a weekday, but there was still quite a lot of people, mixing and weaving through the walkways. When she got out of the building, her breath caught. It was beautiful. The bay shimmered blue under the cloudless sky. She could see the sails of the Opera House and the supports of the Harbour Bridge. Growing up in a small town, this was certainly something she’d never seen before. The smell of the water and the people and the food swam around her head. It was pungent and confronting and intoxicating all at once. She made her way down to the boardwalk.