“Crickets chanted” in the background, along with a thunderous, thumping sound. I felt queasy, as if I were on a rollercoaster, and the adrenaline continued to pump through my veins.

The darkness gradually engulfed all the light. I approached the town in my truck; every minute that passed felt like an hour. Eventually, I lost all hope when I couldn’t make out any lights. A branch swayed in the distance, swinging like a monkey’s tail. Finally, I reached the town hall, where a “beacon” shone brightly like the sun on the roof.

There’s“There’s light here.” I sighed in relief.

I returned to the truck.

The noises of cockatoos and my footsteps echoed as I walked to the accident. I hugged Albie like I’d never hugged him before.

“There [were] no phones. I should’ve known.” I groaned. “We’ll take him in ourselves [like] we should’ve.”

The truck bed was recently dented, but I wasn’t sure, as the town’s lights were off. The boy must have been as heavy as a dead donkey if there was one.

“Should’ve known better,” I grumbled.

Both the petrol station and the local pub were open. Mr Stevens suddenly signalled, like a wave “without hands.” My teeth chattered. I hoped he didn’t suspect that the boy was “dead.”

“Dead?” Mr Stevens assumed.

“No,” I snapped.

“Where’s Beacon then?” Mr Stevens asked.

“Across the road,” I explained and turned to Albie. “Stay here, son.”