Catch me if you can

Swinburne students enrolled in the Diversity in Australian Literature unit engaged in discussions about current socio-political issues and how writing can express perspectives and ideas gone long unheard. This week, Ethan Williams takes us on a deadly chase with Catch Me If You Can.

How much are you willing to sacrifice to be your true self? (Image: Wix)

The festive spirit fills the air. It’s warm and comforting. At least that’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Mum dishes out cutlets of chicken. Everyone is dying to eat. 

‘Dear heavenly father, we thank you for providing us with this food and are grateful for your love and support in helping William in his career and study and to see him and Abigail prosper and to give them a happy and fulfilling future together. Father, I pray to give Ben a successful future and to forgive him for his sins. He is a good kid at heart. Amen,' she says.

‘Amen’ sings around the room.

I glance at Dad. He gives me that “I know” look. The look that tells me I shouldn’t say anything, otherwise an argument will break out.

‘Oh, look at that, I forgot to get the drinks, ’ says Mum. ‘Would your friend like anything, honey?’

‘My boyfriend, ’ I say. ‘Nick is my boyfriend.’ It's just little things like this that she does constantly that pisses me off. ‘Why do you always deny the fact?’ I say.

She says nothing. Usually, when I bring this up, she always says that I should be grateful that I’m not living on the streets. If it wasn’t for Dad, I think I would have been kicked out of the house by now. I constantly get lectured about how I should be disowned and that being gay is a disgrace to our family. 

I am grateful that Dad still sees me as the same boy he did before I came out to them. I love and respect him for that. Mum seems to think I’ve thrown my life and sold my soul to the devil. She puts the bottles on the table, and we all sit and eat in silence. The chicken tastes dry. No amount of gravy could save it. The roasted vegetables are so bland. She could have at least put an effort into seasoning them. Not even table salt can save this. Her cooking is just as crusty as how she treats me.

Only the sound of chewing and munching can be heard. 

‘How about we play those games you were so excited to show us?’ Abby recommends, attempting to lighten the mood. 

‘That’s a fantastic idea,’ says Mum. She proceeds to pull out some board games. 

I turn to Nick. ‘Minecraft?’ I say. That game we would play together all the time. We put in so many hours. Building up our town together. We used to go over to his place when his roommates weren’t around and just farm in the game together. Sometimes we would watch a movie, but it was always more fun playing Minecraft with him. Most of the time, his roommates were out for the night, so usually I ended up staying over. Those nights were a nice break from Mum as well.

‘Yeah, we play these dumb board games all the time,’ he says. We go up to our room. ‘What the hell?’ I say.

Perched up on our computer desk is a doll. It's dull. Grey and mattered to the core. Its hair is made of two braided rope strips that fall on either side of its dead eyes, looking at us, holding a note. I pick up the note and it reads, “Want to play a game? Hide and seek.” 

I show Nick and he looks just as confused and surprised as I am. 

‘Very funny, Ben, you’re not scaring me this time,’ he says, playfully punching my arm.

‘This wasn’t me,’ I say.

The doll vanishes and reappears this time on top of the drawer holding another note. It reads: “Current Prize Money; $13,539,742”. On the card was an arrow that pointed to a mysterious door that had appeared when Nick and I were focused on the doll. 

We enter. The door closes behind us. I turn to try and open it, just to realise that the round ball-shaped handle won't budge. I look over at Nick. The look on his face is one of concern. Not much has changed since walking through the door. We are still in the same old house that we had grown up in, and everything seems normal. Every object that was there before walking through the portal is also here in the exact same place. Almost like a mirror version of our world.

The house is notably quiet for some reason. The murmurs that were heard from downstairs are no longer there. It’s dead silent. I clamber downstairs and Nick follows. I am greeted with an empty lunch table, and the freshly cooked cutlets of chicken sit there, ready to be served. 

The doll sits upon the bottom step smiling at us and waving it’s arm back and forth. Nick looks at me, and I look back at him.

‘Let’s get it?’ Nick’s statement sounded more like a question.

I nod in agreement. We approach the doll with caution, thinking that maybe the teleportation is triggered by sudden movements, but as soon as we get to within arm’s reach, poof, it’s gone. A small and subtle smoke cloud replaces the doll’s position before disintegrating into the air. 

‘This is so dumb, he’s just going to keep vanishing whenever we get close to it,’ says Nick.

‘Maybe if we can somehow catch it off guard, like sneak up behind it or something, ’ I say. 

We search the entire downstairs area. The kitchen, lounge room, office, and even the garage. No doll in sight. I open the back door that leads out into the yard. The air is colder here. It was so much warmer outside when we were eating. The cool breeze instils a feeling of unease that sends shivers down my spine.

‘Do you reckon it’s gone back upstairs?’

‘I feel like it would be more efficient if we split up and one of us each searched a level,' says Nick, just as we reached the top of the staircase.

Just as I turned around to go back down, a loud crashing could be heard from downstairs. The layout of this house allows for a line of sight to a window from the lounge area downstairs, from the top of the staircase. 

3 men climb through the window and enter the house. Their clothes were ripped and covered in dirt. Two look to be Caucasian and are equipped with modern rifles and have ammunition stored on their hips; one carries a duffle bag. The other guy, an East Asian man with long hair, half tied up in a bun. He looks like the group’s ringleader, looking down at a compass gently placed on his left palm. In his right hand, he carelessly waves around a submachine gun. Using it to point in the direction of where the compass seems to be telling him to go, signalling to the other two.

The two men on either side elevate their guns and begin slowly making their way towards the stairs. 

I grab Nick’s arm, and we frantically run inside the nearest closet. With both of us hiding here, the door won’t shut. It leaves itself a jar. I see the tip of one of the men’s rifles and push Nick back further into the closet.  Trying to get the door to shut might alert them. We hold our breath in hopes that they will pass by. Sweat and tears roll down my face and onto my hands, covering my mouth. The two search the upstairs area. 

‘It’s there. You watch it, I’m going to go around and grab it.’ I hear one of them say. I see two legs moving past the closet as I grit my teeth. 

‘We’ve got it,’ the other one yells.

Bang Bang Bang

I cover my ears. The third man appears from within the smoke, his gun pointed up at the ceiling.

‘Okaaaay. Congratulations,’ he says. ‘Give me the bag so I can give her this stupid doll she cares so much about.’

‘You promised we all would take it to her,’ says the man with the bag.

‘Give. Me. The bag.' he raises his weapon. ‘There's only one winner to this game. You were going to die anyway.’

A ring of shots fires out. The man holding the bag flops to the floor. The other seeks refuge from the cover provided by the corner of the bathroom doorway. The two exchange fire at each other. Back and forth. 

‘Holy shit.’ I cover Nick’s mouth with my hand.

‘Shut up, are you trying to get us killed?’ My stern whisper isn’t effective.

‘The bag. It's got the doll, it's also right there,’ says Nick.

I close my eyes briefly. I remember hearing somewhere that when your brain knows it's about to die, it replays all of your fond memories one last time. As if it shows you a movie of your life’s highlight reel. Memories of hanging out with my two close friends, meeting Nick for the first time and going on all those dates to expensive restaurants. Hiding him from mum and coming up with excuses on why I’m leaving the house all the time. “I’m studying with Jason mum.” Or “I’m just going out to buy some clothes. If my excuse was good enough, she wouldn’t pay too much attention to my location on her phone.

I still loved her. Before all this happened, we did have a close relationship. We enjoyed baking together, and when I was younger, she used to help me with my school art projects. I remember I got first place in one of the showcases.

Nick pushes me to the side to climb out, and my attention is brought back to the present. I get squished up against the wall.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’

Using the cover from the gunfight, he jumps out of our hiding place, grabs the bag and makes a run for the stairs. I stay hidden. 

After some time, the gunfire dies out. I hear footsteps casually prancing down the stairs. I climb out of my hiding spot. The thick smoke obstructs my view. 

‘Nick!’ I call out. ‘Nick!’ only silence replies.

Smoke clears up. The two Caucasian men are slumped over, the walls and floor of the hallway stained red. At the stairs, the walls were also splattered with red liquid, combined with the fractures and cracks and the occasional bullet hole.

Nick lies there, at the bottom of the stairs, in a pool of his own blood.