On the Run Read Online Free PDF Page B

again.
    â€œIs it okay?” Mum asked.
    â€œBeautiful,” Ben said. “You’ll love it.”

 
    THE BAG
    Ben stood outside the closed cabin door, still wearing his school shirt and shorts from two days ago. Olive stood beside him, hair mussed up, holding Bonzo the rabbit by one long, grubby ear. She wore her uniform too, a light green summer dress. Feet bare, as always. No shoe had been invented that was comfortable enough for Olive.
    Early morning light poked at the cabin through sky-high pine trees. Mum was passed out in the car, still parked in the sandy clearing in front of the small timber building.
    Ben’s heart went blump, blump, blump . He could hear his father inside. A piece of furniture scraped across the floor. He waited a few seconds before giving the door a little push. It swung open with a raaaaaaark .
    Dad stood on a chair in the dim light of the room, reaching up into the open roof area. Exposed timber beams ran from one side of the room to the other. No ceiling. Just the rusty corrugated iron of the peaked roof high above. Dad looked down at Ben and Olive.
    â€œGet out of here!” He quickly covered something with a piece of black plastic. “What are you doing sneaking around?” He jumped off the chair and stormed toward them. Ben and Olive backed away. He slammed the door in their faces.
    Mum sat up, woken by the sound, and opened her car door. “What?”
    Olive giggled.
    â€œWhat are you laughing at?” Ben whispered.
    â€œDad being cranky. What was he doing?”
    â€œAre you guys all right?” Mum asked.
    â€œYes, but Dad has poo in his pants. Again,” Olive said.
    That almost made Ben smile, but his pounding heart stifled the grin before it reached his lips.
    â€œWhat’s for breakfast?” Olive asked. “I want sugar on toast. Can we have sugar on toast?”
    â€œWe don’t have anything. There’s half a Kit Kat but you can’t have that for breakfast. We’ll work something out,” Mum said, closing her door and lying back in her seat.
    â€œCan you hear water? Maybe it’s a river,” Olive said. “Let’s go exploring.”
    â€œI want to go home,” Ben said. He headed to the car as the cabin door opened.
    â€œWe’ve got to clean this place out so we can sleep in it tonight,” Dad said.
    â€œI want to go home.”
    â€œWell, you’re not. You’re helping me clean up. You think I want to do it? No, but some things in life just have to be done.”
    Ben looked into his father’s eyes, deciding whether or not to challenge him. Dad was still a good foot taller than him—thin but strong, lean arm muscles tanned dark.
    Some vacation, Ben thought, but he dared not say it.
    Dad went back inside. Ben followed and was smacked with the stench of mold and death. He looked around. There was a shelf on the back wall, jammed with things. Next to it, a creepy walk-in cupboard with large doors yawning open. On the right-hand wall, a solid timber workbench and a small, rusty green trunk. Under a window, a wooden dining table and chair. To the left, behind the front door, there was a torn camp bed with a grubby sheet and leaves on the floor all around it. Up high, another window that had been smashed. And the clump of black plastic sitting on a wide timber slat up in the roof beams.
    â€œGet to work. We’ll chuck most of it out,” Dad grunted. “And don’t ever sneak up on me like that again, y’hear?”
    Ben nodded.
    â€œWhat?” Dad snapped.
    â€œYes, Dad,” Ben said.
    He scanned the floor for rats, spiders, snakes.
    Over the next three hours, as the sun climbed high in the sky, they pulled everything out of the cabin and laid it on the ground in the clearing. Ben was forced to sweep, de-web, and throw stacks of old, moldy junk down the side of the cabin. Dad wanted to get rid of most of Pop’s things.
    Ben saw seventeen spiders.