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of his Blundstone boots dragging along the roadway. He hangs on for dear life, the chain creaking in his palms, which now scream with a special kind of pain, the gravel rash not enjoying contact with bare metal.
     
    He pushes it from his mind and looks up at Mr Red. On his knees, he reaches down into the chassis of the truck to retrieve the gun he dropped. It’s balanced on a support beam just below. His fingers touch it but he can’t quite grab it.
     
    Good. Billy needs to move his arse before Mr Red gets hold of it. He glances back at the armoured car. It’s about five metres away.
     
    Can I get to it along this chain?
     
    The truck’s engine note changes as the driver drops down a gear. He’s using the engine to brake and the vehicle slows. Unfortunately no one informed the armoured car about the braking situation so it continues at its current pace and slides directly towards Billy. It’s going to crush him against the back of the truck —
     
    Clang. The armoured car slams into the back of the truck as Billy swings out of its way, grabs the armoured car’s bonnet and climbs on. How ironic. He took all that time to talk the security guard off this thing and now he’s thrilled to be on it.
     
    Billy levers himself up, grabs onto the windscreen’s pillar then looks back at Mr Red. The guy’s still trying to snag that bloody pistol. Billy’s eyes are drawn to his helmet and for the first time he realises it has silver markings on top as well. There’s something familiar about it. Come to think of it the helmet on the guy sitting in the passenger seat was familiar too. It was black with coloured markings. Billy looks through the rear window of the cabin at the guy driving the truck. He also wears a helmet, yellow with stripes around it. He’s sure he’s seen that before as well.
     
    The truck’s engine barks and the vehicle picks up speed again, thunders beneath an overpass, its exhaust note reverberating off the cement surface above.
     
    Mr Red rises and finds his feet, the pistol in his right hand.
     
    Oh bugger.
     
    Well, that’s that then. Billy realises any chance of bringing these guys to justice is over. He now needs to find a way out of this situation before he gets himself shot. He could just step off the armoured car and drop to the roadway below, take his chances with the landing, but he’d prefer not. Four months in traction is enough for one lifetime. Unfortunately it looks like it’s his only option.
     
    The truck clears the overpass and takes a tight turn. The armoured car swings out —
     
    Crunch. It mounts the footpath and flattens a small tree, then another, keeps swinging until Billy realises he just might have found another option.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Red aims his pistol at the guy as he climbs to the top of the armoured car. Yep, it’s the same fella who ran after the truck, the one who commandeered the Vespa and saved that moron of a security guard. The guy looks like he has some nasty road burns, his jeans ripped and torn, his hands and arms bloody. Red studies him, intrigued. ‘Who the hell is this guy?’
     
    Actually it doesn’t matter because he’s about to bite the big one.
     
    Red raises the weapon, aims it and squeezes the trigger —
     
    The guy takes three long, fast steps then jumps off the armoured car. He hangs in the air, arms windmilling, legs pumping like he’s riding an invisible bicycle.
     
    Red tracks his trajectory with the pistol, finger tight on the trigger. It’s a shame to kill the guy. He kept on coming until he was all out of options then made the ballsiest escape Red could have imagined. Still, he stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong and that couldn’t be tolerated.
     
    Red pulls the trigger.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Billy sails through the air —
     
    Bam. ‘Ahhh.’ He feels a sharp sting on his left shoulder. It hurts like hell but that’s not what worries him. It’s the Yarra River in front of him that’s the real concern. The