Ringer Read Free

Sure enough, a distant billow of dust burst into the sky as a little speck
gunned along the track. I could have heard it from a mile away; the car was a
shit box and in desperate need of a service. The sound sliced through the
stillness of what was once a silent and heavenly existence. I shielded my eyes
as I watched the white hatchback Mazda speed closer. Maybe this was my would-be
boss? Max’s dad, or maybe a Sheehan from the neighbouring property? It would be
more than a surprise as most farmers drove flash four-wheel drives, not the
screeching bomb like the one nearing.
    Regardless, I threw down my cigarette and
swivelled it out in the dirt, waving my arm in the air as a way of a friendly
greeting while I slowly worked on opening the gate. I smiled, ready to meet my
new acquaintance—the new acquaintance that wasn’t slowing down. I worked on the
chain faster—the new acquaintance, who was now beeping their horn like a raving
lunatic. I clawed and tugged at the chain, glancing up from my hands only long
enough to afford myself the view of the fast-approaching white rocket that
barrelled down the track.
    The horn sounded in a long, insistent
beep-beep-beeeeeeeep.
    Oh shit! OH SHIT!
    The psycho wasn’t slowing. I had visions of
the buzz box driving over my car like a monster truck, pinning me to the gate
while it smashed its way through.
    Beep-beep-beeeeeeeeeeeeep.
    I unlatched the last of the gate with
enough time to latch onto it and catapult myself, attached to said gate, away
in a wide swing. The beaten-up hatchback swerved violently around my car and
sped through the barely opened gap.
    The force of the gate slamming into the
wire fence knocked me from my hold; I fell backwards into the dusty shrubs with
an oomph . I heard the car come to a skidding halt. I rolled onto my
side, catching the breath that had been knocked out from me. I may have been in
a momentary world of pain, and my life may have just flashed before my eyes,
but it did little to stem the tide of anger that rose to claw its way out of
me.
    Clasping my ribs, I slowly got to my feet
and glared at the rattling-arse end of the car before me.
    “Hey! Hey, what the fuck?” I screamed,
hobbling over to the car and slamming my palm on the back window before
doubling over in pain. It was then I saw the driver’s window was being wound
down slowly, not because the driver was doing it deliberately slow, but because
it looked like it was being shunted downwards by force; the window was clearly
stuck and was taking considerable effort to open. I stood to the side, clear
from the car, my brows narrowed, waiting for an apology, for a question of
concern maybe? Instead what I got was a glimpse of a delicate feminine hand as
it appeared from the gap in the tinted window, a turquoise beaded bracelet, and
immaculately pearl polished, manicured nails. I was momentarily stunned by the
unexpectedness of it, more so when the dainty little hand extended me the
middle finger.
    What the fuck?
    My lips pressed into an incredulous smile
as I quickly stepped towards the car wanting to get a look at who was behind
the wheel, but as I skidded to the driver’s door, grabbing onto the handle, the
car spun its back wheels and gunned it down the track, leaving me in a shower
of dirt and a Mazda door handle in my grasp.
    What the fuck?
    I coughed at the dust that was lodging in
my throat, a cough that turned into hysterical cackling as I fixed my eyes onto
the door handle. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I watched the Mazda thunder
down the track until it was a speck in the distance, a speck that had me
raising my brows with interest as it veered right. Taking the fork in the road
that I couldn’t quite make out, the car blazed its way towards the Sheehan property.
    Interesting.

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Miranda
     
     
    I wasn’t ready
to go home.
    Not just yet; in fact, despite my erratic,
maniacal driving (I had never been a good driver), I had wanted to avoid
getting