“Crickets chanted” in the background, along with a thunderous, thumping sound. I felt queasy, as if I were on a rollercoaster, and the adrenaline continued to pump through my veins.
The darkness gradually engulfed all the light. I approached the town in my truck; every minute that passed felt like an hour. Eventually, I lost all hope when I couldn’t make out any lights. A branch swayed in the distance, swinging like a monkey’s tail. Finally, I reached the town hall, where a “beacon” shone brightly like the sun on the roof.
There’s“There’s light here.” I sighed in relief.
I returned to the truck.
The noises of cockatoos and my footsteps echoed as I walked to the accident. I hugged Albie like I’d never hugged him before.
“There [were] no phones. I should’ve known.” I groaned. “We’ll take him in ourselves [like] we should’ve.”
The truck bed was recently dented, but I wasn’t sure, as the town’s lights were off. The boy must have been as heavy as a dead donkey if there was one.
“Should’ve known better,” I grumbled.
Both the petrol station and the local pub were open. Mr Stevens suddenly signalled, like a wave “without hands.” My teeth chattered. I hoped he didn’t suspect that the boy was “dead.”
“Dead?” Mr Stevens assumed.
“No,” I snapped.
“Where’s Beacon then?” Mr Stevens asked.
“Across the road,” I explained and turned to Albie. “Stay here, son.”
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