Two hundred chapters ... quite a milestone. Almost 420,000 words as well. Here's to 200 more!
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Flinders Ranges, South Australia
Jackson's Station
There was blood…much more than either of them had expected.
Daniel paced near the doorway to the kitchen, moving back and forth in tight strides, his bare feet slapping softly against the cool floor. His hair was a mess, his face drawn tight with tension, and he wore nothing but a pair of boxers.
Margot sat on the floor, knees tucked to her chest, her red silk nightwear—the set Haley had given her five days earlier—now spattered at the hem. Her eyes were wide, brimming with the kind of disbelief that teetered on the edge of panic. A few silent tears escaped, trailing down her cheeks.
"What are we going to…" she asked, her voice small.
"Just let me think," Daniel muttered. His hand went to his mouth, rubbing over the stubble as he glanced again at the mess on the kitchen floor. His eyes landed on the bloodied cricket bat leaning awkwardly against the wall. He stopped pacing; something had clicked.
He looked up, locking eyes with her. There was a glint in his gaze neither madness nor fear, but clarity.
"I have an idea," he said, breathless, a smirk touching the edge of his lips.
Margot blinked. "What?"
"We'll make it look like an accident," he said.
Margot stared. "An accident? Daniel… we're in the middle of nowhere. You know the whole dingo excuse has already been used, right?"
"No, no—God, why do you people still joke about that?" Daniel said, shaking his head while his eyes swept the floor again. "Trust me. We get him out of the house. That's step one. I know what to do after that."
She hesitated.
"Just trust me," he repeated, more firmly now.
After a moment, Margot nodded and slowly rose. Her legs trembled beneath her. She stepped carefully around the blood, eyes averted. Daniel moved with her.
"You get the legs," he said quietly. "I'll take the head."
Together they bent down. Margot grunted under the weight, struggling slightly.
"Heavy," she muttered through clenched teeth.
Daniel's arms flexed as he adjusted his grip. They started toward the door, staggering slightly with each step. As soon as they pushed it open, a wall of humid night air and rain greeted them.
Daniel tilted his head up toward the sky. "Perfect," he murmured. "The rain will help."
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Almost Two Weeks Ago
"It tastes the same," I said, biting into the toast slathered in Vegemite and trying not to wince at the sharp, salty tang.
"No, it doesn't," Margot replied immediately, watching me from across the room with a knowing smirk.
"What do you mean? It's literally the same thing."
"No, no," her oldest brother chimed in from beside me on the couch. "She's right. The one you get in the States isn't the same. It's processed differently…milder."
"Exactly," Margot added, taking a sip of her tea as though that sealed the argument.
"That's it," I said, shaking my head. "You're all gaslighting me."
From the far side of the room, Nathan—seated alone in an old recliner, legs crossed raised his hand. "I'm starting to like the stuff, actually, and I think Daniel is right: it does taste the same."
"See?" I pointed at Nathan.
"Still doesn't make you right," Margot's sister said as she walked in, her eyes on the TV.
"Can we please watch anything else?" Margot's brother groaned, gesturing toward the screen. A cricket match—Australia vs. India—had been playing since breakfast.
"I agree," I said, nodding at the television. "I don't get it. This Test thing is literally the most boring version of this game."
"Oh, shush," Margot's sister replied without looking at me. "This game's been great."
"It's been three days, Anya. Three. Days."
"Yes, and today has been the most thrilling one yet."
"At least the short versions I've seen were kind of fun. This is just people standing around for hours, then having lunch, then tea in the afternoon, and then more standing around."
Nathan chuckled. "I'm actually enjoying it now that I understand how it works. Though… I'd still prefer rugby. Isn't that what you guys call football here?"
"No," Margot said. "There's a difference—a big one."
"There is? I thought it was the same."
And just like that, the room erupted into a chorus of overlapping arguments, with Margot and her brother trying to explain the differences while also debating why American football is called football.
Amid the bickering, Margot's sister leaned over, eyes still on the game. "You should come back next year for the World Cup. We're gonna take it back from the Indians."
"Well, I'll be on the Indian side. Or the American side—if we have one."
Margot's sister laughed. "American cricket team? That's cute."
I smirked, arms crossed. "If the American people put their minds to it, we could dominate cricket or any other sport in the world."
That silenced the room for about half a second before Margot, her sister, and her brother burst into synchronized laughter.
"No, they can't," Margot said, trying to catch her breath.
"Please," I insisted. "We have world‑class athletes."
Her brother leaned forward. "And nobody knows them outside your country, Daniel. Like, no one."
"What? Of course people know them!" I said, scandalized.
Margot's sister stood, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Okay, if cricket's so easy, why don't you come show us how it's done?"
I pushed myself off the couch, fully committing to the bit. "Fine. Let's do this."
She nodded smugly. "Great. I'll get the old bat and ball."
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We stepped out into the Queensland countryside Margot's grandparents' farm. The air was thick with that earthy, clean scent you get only after rain. The ground was soft beneath our feet, and the eucalyptus trees rustled gently in the breeze. Rolling green hills framed the view, and somewhere in the distance a creek trickled over rocks.
They mostly grew mangoes on the property and they were good. I'd eaten four in the last twenty‑four hours. Possibly five. Who's counting?
As we made our way toward the clearing near the shed, I spotted my mom deep in conversation with Margot's mom. Alice darted past them in a blur of motion, laughing as she chased some imaginary foe—or friend. I smiled. I'd spent more time with her in the last few days than I had in months. Guilt and joy tangled together, but I was making up for it now.
"You're going to get hurt," Margot warned, nudging me as we walked.
"It's just like baseball," I said confidently.
She raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever seen a cricket ball?"
I was about to answer when something on the ground caught my eye.
A spider.
Not a big one, not a particularly fast one, just a spider.
I froze. Instinct took over. I leapt behind Margot, using her as a shield.
Her brother cracked up. "It's harmless, mate."
"I don't care," I said through clenched teeth, giving the spider an extremely wide berth and walking all the way around it without taking my eyes off it.
"You okay now?" Margot asked, teasing.
"No," I muttered.
She laughed and gave my hand a small squeeze. "So… what's the plan after we head to Sydney?"
I smiled. "I think we might run into the Pritchetts and Dunphys there."
"Oh, right!" Margot said. "Haley told me she had something for me, some clothes she wants me to wear while I'm here."
"Huh," I said. "Her designs?"
"I think so," Margot replied.
"Good thinking on her part."
Margot nodded, brow raised. "And what about after your parents and Alice leave? We've still got, what, another week?"
"That," I said, eyes twinkling, "is a surprise."
"Tell me," she begged, tugging at my hand. "Come on, tell me."
I shook my head. "It's a surprise."
"Tell me," she repeated, faster this time. "Tell me."
Up ahead her brother turned and groaned. "For God's sake, mate, just tell her. She won't stop."
"Yeah," I muttered. "I'm well aware. I should've never told her there even was a surprise."
"Fine," I relented. "I'll tell you the first part."
Margot narrowed her eyes in delight. "I'm listening."
"We're flying to Darwin," I said, "and then… taking a train from there to Adelaide."
Her eyes lit up. "Oh! The Ghan?"
"Yup." I nodded. "We've got an entire private coach to ourselves."
Margot squealed. "That's so fun! I've always wanted to do that."
Ahead of us, her brother gave me an approving nod. "Glad to hear you're treating my sister right, Adler."
"And after that?" Margot asked quickly.
"You'll find out when we get to Sydney," I said with a grin. "I met a certain famous Australian a month ago and let's just say he helped me out with my plans."
Margot's eyes sparkled. "Tell me."
"No."
"Tell me."
"Still no."
"Tell me!"
I didn't even respond. I bolted ahead, sprinting toward her brother as Margot chased after me, laughing—shouts of "Tell me!" echoing behind us.
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I stood awkwardly at the makeshift pitch, cricket bat in hand. A few metres away, Anya—Margot's sister—smirked with that unmistakable this is going to be fun look while she twirled a red cricket ball between her fingers.
The bat felt heavier than I'd expected, awkward to grip even with the thick gloves they insisted I wear. The helmet was worse so bulky I could hardly see.
"Can I take off the helmet?" I called, adjusting it uselessly. "I can't see a thing."
"No," Margot said flatly, arms crossed. "People have died, Danny."
"What?" I blinked.
From somewhere behind me, I heard my mom echo, "What?"
"Maybe this isn't a great idea," I muttered.
But Anya didn't wait.
She ran in and bowled a smooth arc of motion that ended in a flash of red flying straight at me.
I swung.
The ball slammed into my shoulder with the force of a truck, and a jolt of pain exploded down my arm.
"What the hell?" I hissed, stumbling back.
"Told you," Anya said with a smirk.
From the sidelines, Alice cheered wildly. "You can do it! Hit the ball!"
I rubbed my shoulder. Hearing Alice's encouragement, I picked up the ball and lobbed it back toward Anya. "Again."
"You sure?" she asked, one eyebrow arched. "There are plenty of unprotected parts of your body…" She let the threat hang.
"Try me," I said.
Nathan called out some tips for me, "Just keep your elbow up and…"
"Wrong sport, Nathan!" I shouted back.
Anya ran in again. I locked in, eyes glued to the ball.
The moment it reached me, I swung.
Crack.
The ball soared sailing past Anya, over the fence, and into the trees beyond.
I stood stunned. Unfortunately, so did the bat, which slipped from my grip mid‑swing and flew off in the same direction, landing with a dull thunk just a foot away from Margot.
"Aha!" I yelled, throwing my arms into the air.
Alice jumped up and down, clapping. "You did it!"
"Not so bad for an American HA," I said proudly.
Margot picked up the bat, shaking her head. "The bat is supposed to stay in your hands."
I grinned. "Don't care. I won."
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I walked off the pitch, shoulder still throbbing, and joined Mom as Nathan stepped up to bat. Alice ran alongside him, insisting she could bowl too.
"You know," Mom said quietly, "I wasn't going to come."
I turned to her. "Why? Same reason as me? You know… spiders, snakes, the terrifying wilderness?"
She shook her head, eyes distant. "No. I always had a negative view of this place…" She paused for a moment. "Because of your father."
The words hit like a cricket ball to the chest.
"Wait…what?" I stared at her, confused.
She offered a vague shrug. "Back when we first met, I thought he was Australian."
"You thought he was?"
"I don't know," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He was… It's very hard to explain."
"Well, then don't," I muttered.
"You never asked about him…," she said, meeting my eyes.
"I didn't need to. I don't care."
She nodded slowly. "That might be for the best."
I was about to reply when Alice sprinted over, beaming.
"Danny! Look what I found!" she cried, hiding something behind her back.
I smiled, expecting a flower or a weird rock.
She opened her hand.
In her palm sat a massive spider.
"It's so pretty!" she squealed.
I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My heart stopped, started again, then kicked into overdrive. My vision narrowed to that eight‑legged horror staring back at me.
Mom reacted first. She snatched the spider and flung it into the bushes.
"NOOO!" Alice wailed. "Don't go, Mr Eightlegs!"
Across the field came a chorus of laughter. Margot's brother called out, grinning, "I've gotta say, Mary, I'm having trouble believing those two are related. Are you sure there wasn't a mix‑up at the hospital?"
I couldn't respond. Still in shock, hand on my chest, I tried to steady my breathing.
Maybe Margot, Mom, everyone was right. I really did need to see someone about this phobia.