The Amber Trail by M. J. Kelly

Author:M. J. Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, mystery, australian, india adventure, india action thriller, travel adventure fiction, mystery action adventure, thriller action and adventure, adventure danger intrigue

13

JULES’ SOBS EVENTUALLY DROPPED away, and she turned to lean back on the wall of the train corridor. Wet tracks ran down her cheeks.

“We need to go back and help him,” she repeated.

Dig pursed his lips. “We’ll help him somehow. But right now we’re stuck on this train until the next stop.”

“We can stop the train.”

“And do what? Head straight back to the bar? We’ll be massacred.”

Jules’ head dropped. “The next stop is miles away. It’ll be too late.”

“I think it’s already too late. We don’t even know where they took him.” Dig bit at his nails. “Should we call the police?”

“Not the Goa police. They’re on the Banyan payroll. They come into the brewhouse every month to pick up their payoffs.” Her eyes were sullen and shoulders slumped. “There must be something we can do.” She sat for a few minutes, staring out to the horizon.

Eventually Dig extended his hand. “Look. We’ll get off at the next stop, and then we can work something out. But for now, let’s go sit down.”

She glanced at his hand, then up to meet his gaze. After a long pause, she reached out and Dig pulled her to her feet.

They moved into the humidity of the train carriage, ducking their heads to avoid a scalping on the low door frame. Passengers crowded into square wooden seats, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, their brows lined with sweat, their children curled at their feet. The scent of body odour and something like mothballs filled the air. A stack of metal cages constricted the aisle, filled with chickens that beat the air with their wings as they passed. A boy lay on the ground with his head propped against one coop, sleeping. Dig stepped over him, then found a seat near a sleeping man wearing a turban and a long beard; he had a transparent plastic bag clutched to his chest, filled with documents. Dig lowered himself into the opposite seat. Jules sat beside the window and let her head rest on the frame.

“You okay?” Dig said.

She shrugged and stared out the window. “It’s my fault,” she said. “We should have left Goa a long time ago.”

“There’s no point blaming anyone. We just have to figure out what to do.”

“Yes, but Chook was in my ear for months. Telling me to get out of Goa. Telling me to go home. And I didn’t listen.” She bit at her lip. “But at the end of the day, it wasn’t me who paid the price. It was him.”

Dig rubbed at his neck. “So why did you stay?”

“Staying was bad...but going home was worse.”

A boy walked through the train with a pot of chai balanced on his shoulder. Dig handed the boy a few coins and he poured out two measures into small cardboard cups. He passed one of them to Jules; she gave a small nod and took a sip.

“Trouble at home?” Dig said.

Jules’ lips thinned. “I had a car accident, and the police want to lock me up for it.”

“What happened?”

“Ran over my step dad.

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