The Miranda Contract (18 page)

Chapter 26

Miranda

Melbourne, Present Day

“I
just want to
rub it all out,” Dan said, sitting on the dumpster with his knees drawn up. Miranda sat next to him, listening to the distant sirens, her eyes hidden again behind the dark shades. It was a miracle she hadn’t lost them, or her bag. When it was a Gucci, she guessed you just didn’t let it go. She looked up at the night sky, squinted and imagined she was sitting back home in California. The sky didn’t look all that different, she figured. Stars all looked the same to her.

Beside her, Dan rubbed at his wrist again. The bracelet was gone but it’d left a mark. His skin was red. It reminded her of burns.

“So that was your grandfather?” she asked. She didn’t know where to start.

Dan shrugged.

“And your friends?”

He shrugged again. She was getting good at this, she thought. He was really coming out of his shell.

“I guess you really are messed up then,” she smiled, checking her left shoe, running her finger over the snapped heel.

“Sorry about that,” he said softly.

“Oh, is it your fault?”

“Probably.” He shrugged again.

Miranda leaned forward and looked to the end of the lane. Dan followed her gaze and they saw a few people, normal people, walking in the lights of the street. They had decided to wait ten minutes and she knew it was running out. They’d have to move again soon, and that would mean getting themselves back into the world, and probably back into the Mad Russian’s sights. Unless he’d been killed. She told herself it was a possibility.

“You know, I bet you would have been a really boring kid at school,” she said.

Dan shrugged again.

She stood up and awkwardly put her shoe back on, hopping a little and having to rest her hand on the dumpster to steady herself. Dan slid to the ground too, his trainers splashing a puddle as they landed.

They walked to the end of the lane, quietly, neither of them really excited about the prospect of moving into the city streets again. But there was no choice, she knew. The Mad Russian would be back to his crazy self in no time, and from what she knew of him, he was probably going to pull up the skyscrapers one by one to get to his grandson.

“Let’s go,” she said.

It didn’t take long for Dan to find a car. Three steps, in fact. It was a blue sedan with a baby seat in the back and family stickers plastered on the rear passenger window. He looked around and then pressed his hand against the door. Miranda heard a clicking sound and the car unlocked.

She wondered whether he’d let her drive, and was relieved when he slipped into the driver’s side. She hobbled around the front of the car and got in beside him. The engine was already humming when she closed the door, and he moved smoothly into the traffic.

She smiled to herself, looking out the window with her head leaning against the headrest. She wasn’t worried about the owner of the car. Her people would get money to whoever they were and Miranda would make sure it was more than enough to replace the car. She smiled because Dan was really good at breaking the law when he needed to, and he did it without thinking.

He did a lot of things, she figured, without thinking.

“Do you hate your powers?” she asked as they moved onto the highway.

He heard her, but he didn’t reply.

She reached out and turned the radio off.

It leapt back on without Dan moving.

“I don’t think so,” she said and turned the radio off again. “Seriously, do you wish you were boring like me?”

He smiled at that. She hit her mark. As usual.

“I don’t know,” he said, checking the rear vision mirror. “It’s not something I can choose.”

“But do you dream about being normal?”

He still wouldn’t look at her.

“I try not to dream at all,” he said. “Saves complications, saves disappointment.”

“Very deep, Galkin. I just wondered, that’s all. I know people who would… who do things to be like you.”

She didn’t shy away from the memories of the boy in Jakarta. She kept him vivid in her mind’s eye, his oily skin, the shine of his eyes and teeth. The smell of gasoline.

“Some people think we’re different species,” Dan said. “Like a whole new race, or whatever.”

“Did you even go to high school?”

“What?”

“You’re mixing up race and species, but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Dan curled his lip up and seemed amused.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said. “I’m saying there are people out there who see themselves above the rest of the world just because they’ve got freaky powers.”

Like his grandfather, she guessed, but she didn’t want to bring it up or break his conversation. He seemed to be relaxing a bit now they were on the highway.

“But I don’t think we’re any different, apart from being able to do things a little differently, or looking a bit different. We’re still all just people, stuffing up as we go along.”

“Still, there’s something about ubers that makes us think of different… better futures.” She paused and looked away. “There was this boy.”

“Is this leading to some romantic confession?” Dan said, changing lanes. “Because I’d prefer not to know.”

He pulled the car back into the left lane, overtaking an SUV. The motion was hard and Miranda braced herself against the dashboard. She shot him a look, hated him suddenly for not understanding her words, for cutting her off.

“You idiot,” she breathed softly.

“I’ve got problems, that’s all,” he said. “I don’t need to hear about your boyfriends.”

The boy from Jakarta vanished, slipping back into memory, as the sultry Robbie Rogers replaced it. She screwed up her eyes and switched the radio back on, half expecting to hear one of Robbie’s songs. She gave up and turned the radio off with a bang.

They travelled for a minute in silence, although Miranda was still churning inside. She hated the way he could slip into the adolescent boy mentality, the way he acted his age. He was seventeen. She expected so much more from him.

“You slept with Evie,” she said suddenly. And regretted it instantly.

“Who?” He didn’t even look at her.

“My backup singer.”

Dan shrugged.

“The blonde. Small tits.”

He looked at her then, and there was recognition in his eyes. She caught it just as he dipped them and looked away.

“You don’t remember? Christ Dan, it was two nights ago.”

“I could say sorry,” he said.

“So why don’t you? Why don’t you say sorry?”

He shrugged again.

“You are such a bastard.”

The car fell into silence again. Miranda wished that she could replay time, not say the words. It was his fault, of course. He had ruined the moment. She pulled out her phone and flipped the cover up and down, over and again.

“My father killed a lot of people,” Dan said in the darkness.

She stopped fidgeting.

“What?” she asked, although she heard him clearly. You couldn’t not hear those kinds of words.

“Twenty-nine, actually,” Dan added. “Maybe more.”

Their car passed under a bridge, speed cameras positioned to catch offenders. She wondered whether the Mad Russian had access to them, wondered whether they would be careening back into that crazy world of killers.

“They couldn’t identify all of them because of the heat of the fire and the… you know… the rubble.”

She put her phone away. He needed her to say something, she knew, but there wasn’t any way of comforting him.

“People were just out shopping, you know?” he said. “He’s got a following, my dad; these little sickos that discuss his career online and send him cards and letters.”

“He’s alive?” Miranda sounded disappointed, even to her own ears.

“No.”

“They executed him?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?” Dan shot back. But then he banged his hands on the steering wheel and rested his head back. “Sorry, you’re not the problem. We don’t kill criminals here in Australia. No death penalty, not that it mattered.”

“But he killed all those people.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yeah.”

They sat quietly. Dan tightened and loosened his grip around the wheel and Miranda just breathed slowly. Dan’s father was dead, that was clear. She wondered what happened and the possibilities flittered through her mind, sometimes the face of the man who could have been Dan’s father, was Dan himself.

“Stop the car,” she said. “Pull over here.”

He did as he was told, surprised at her words and probably too tired to resist. As the tyres slowed to a stop, she got out and walked to the driver’s side.

“I’m driving, you rest. It’s a straight road, I promise not to kill us.”

His eyelids were heavy. He nodded and crawled across to the passenger side, his arms and legs everywhere as he practically fell into the seat.

Five minutes later he was asleep, with his head backwards, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. His fringe fell to the side, revealing one of the scars he’d collected recently. She reached across and let her fingers touch the skin.

His head was warm.

She stroked his face.

“You’re so young,” she whispered. And inside she knew that things between them were different. He was a boy she could like, a boy with charm, a boy with complications. But then she knew it wasn’t ever going to happen.

There was just too much in the way.

Miranda checked her phone as she sat on the grass overlooking a river.

No messages.

No phantom techno-images of The Mad Russian, either.

The ground was wet, but it wasn’t moving. It was wet and normal and real. She dropped her phone back into her bag and lay down, looking up into the sky. It looked different to home, but she’d already got used to the shifting world. Cities changed, skies changed. She breathed in and let her fingers spread out either side of her, pushing outward into the grass.

“Got some chips,” Dan said as he walked up to stand over her. “I keep my promises.” He’d only been gone for fifteen minutes. She could smell the fries and smiled. Dan stood there looking uncertain. His shirt was torn from the fight in Melbourne. She noticed the scratches on his arms and face.

“Come on, then,” she said.

He grinned and sat down, quickly unwrapping the white paper, unleashing more of the smell.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, enjoying the sensation of food. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten.

“We get out of here,” Dan said, not meeting her eyes. “There’s a place west of here. Should be safe enough and far enough away.”

“So we run?”

He shrugged.

“I was hoping we’d drive,” he said. He looked exhausted.

“What about tomorrow?” she asked. “I’ve got a concert, you know. There are people out there who need to know where I am.” Dan didn’t say anything. He sat with his face looking out to the river. “We need a plan, Galkin.”

“It’s just that, plans aren’t really my thing,” he said. “I don’t do this kind of stuff everyday.”

A few gulls circled above them, their shrill calls piercing the air. They settled close to Miranda, white feathers almost glowing in the moon light. They hopped closer. Dan threw them a chip and they spiraled upward to catch it, shrieking with hysteria.

“I just want to be normal,” he said, throwing a second chip further down the slope towards the river, drawing the birds away.

“I can call my people,” Miranda said, although she knew that Sully wasn’t going to be able to answer her. The others: the management crew, probably weren’t going to be much help either.

“Bree said they’re compromised.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Miranda said.

“Let’s just keep our heads low for a bit,” he said. He turned to look at her, his whole face pleading with her to drop it.

“We’ll need a new car,” she said.

Dan bit his lip and looked down, his familiar smile already dancing on his face.

“Already taken care of,” he said.

“You are a little villain.”

She stood up and brushed off the grass which was everywhere, looking down at the river which now looked like a dark oily road. The hint of gasoline caught her on the light breeze. She closed her eyes, forcing down the memories again. The birds crept forward, chattering like devils, but apart from the gulls, they were alone. It was just her and Dan. She picked up her shoes and bag, already looking back up the hill.

Dan touched her shoulder and she felt a little shock at his touch. He rubbed his hand down her back and the grass was gone. Some kind of electric shock. He was full of surprises.

“I don’t want to know what you just did,” she said. “You need to come up with a plan tomorrow, because I’ve got fifteen thousand fans coming to see me.” She reached her free hand back for Dan and he took it. “I don’t care how mad the Mad Russian is, Dan. He’s not going to stop me from getting to that concert. And neither are you.”

“Maybe.”

“Whatever,” Miranda said, taking the lead. “And I’m driving again. You still look like crap.”

“Fine, get us out of the city.”

They walked up the hill. Behind them, the birds crashed down onto the paper and chips, screaming their rights and nipping at each other as they feasted.