Blood Feud Read Online Free Page B

chased them down the initial straight stretch of Mountain Road before it started its torturous winding ascent up to Mount Big and Lake Big. And that was when we hit a huge dip in the road.
    We launched into the air at over one-fifty kilometres an hour. Well, that’s what the speedometer was showing right before we left the road and as air speed indicators weren’t yet a standard feature in a patrol car, I was only guessing. I clutched the steering wheel with a death grip, pretty sure it wasn’t going to make a lick of difference if none of the car’s tyres was actually touching the ground at that moment. The Bycrafts’ car also became airborne, both Chad and I driving way too fast to safely negotiate the large dip.
    “ Holy shit! ” shouted Kevin, suddenly articulate, one hand clamped around the arm rest, the other pressed on the dashboard, fingers splayed, his long legs braced against the car’s leg well. His pale blue eyes bulged with an equal mixture of horror and fear, every tint of colour abruptly fleeing his face, leaving his freckles standing out in bold contrast.
    Chad hit the road again badly, nearly losing control of the Commodore, the unrestrained occupants thrown around inside. The car’s suspension crunched noisily and the vehicle bounced twice before swerving off the side of the road, the back left tyre dangling for a moment over the steep incline leading down to the surrounding bush. The car fishtailed, repeatedly overshooting the bitumen road onto the gravel verge as Chad struggled desperately to correct his steering.
    I lost track of what he was doing then because we made our own hard and unforgiving landing, the patrol car’s tyres compressing as it slammed down onto the road, before rebounding. Kevin and I were flung violently upwards then downwards with a painful thump, both of us thankfully held in place by our seatbelts. I fought for control for a long uncertain minute as the car bounced over the road. My brain screamed at me not to oversteer, but my hands wrenched the steering wheel back and forth like a first-time learner driver. Somehow, eventually, we came to a shuddering halt.
    Kevin opened his mouth but nothing came out except a stifled and rather inadequate, “Oh.”
    I planted my foot and we sped off again in pursuit of the teenagers up the winding mountainous road.
    But that small delay cost us dearly. When we reached the end of the road and screeched to a stop in the public carpark adjacent to Lake Big, the red Commodore was sitting forlornly alone and deserted, all four doors wide open, its engine idling, stereo still blasting.
    I jumped out of my seat, ignoring the abandoned car and ran to where the thick bushland of the lower mountain pressed against the gravel of the carpark.
    “Chad Bycraft!” I shouted. “You better show yourself right now. You’re in a mess of trouble. Don’t make it worse for yourself by running away.”
    “Fuck you, piglet!” yelled his disembodied voice from inside the tangle of trees. Sniggers echoed around the bush, all the other young Bycrafts now recovered from their bone-jolting ride and enjoying his wonderful display of wit and bravado. For some reason today, his use of the Bycrafts’ longtime nickname for me really made me boil.
    “Yeah, fuck you, piglet!” repeated one of the young Bycraft girls from a different direction. It was probably Jade from the sound of her voice, giggling with impudent confidence. And why wouldn’t she be confident? The Bycrafts had terrorised and ruled this town for well over a century.
    Soft murmurings and rustlings indicated the teens’ withdrawal farther into the bush, but it was impossible to pinpoint from where any of the voices came. Bycrafts had retreated from the law into these mountains since the first settlement in town. They had any number of family bolt holes and secret paths to safety, passed down through the generations as any normal family would pass down favourite recipes. Combine that expert