Rider & the Hummingbird

By Northern Beaches Writers' Group and Zena Shapter

Fourteen-year-old Lan is a computer genius… and a prisoner. After poking around in exactly the wrong websites, Lan’s interest in drones has landed him in the High Country Youth Correctional Facility. Not a good start. Lan is resigned to his fate until he discovers that the mysterious hacktivist who framed him is part of a plot to ki

• Language: English
• Publisher: Northern Beaches Writers Group
• Release date: May 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994487322

Book preview

chapter_one:

Lan tossed his dog-eared copy of CNET magazine over the side of his bunk. It hit the floor with a thunk and a crash. A crash? He glanced over the edge. His roommate had left half a glass of blackcurrant cordial on the floor. Now the glass was rolling over the tiles while a purple puddle seeped across the magazine’s headline: ‘Cool Tech’.

He grunted and lay back down. Technology was only cool when it was new, and this magazine was months old. Of all the downsides to being in juvie, the worst was not knowing the latest digital news. On the outside, Lan could have simply surfed the magazine’s website for the latest tech buzz. But no one in the High Country Youth Correctional Facility was allowed internet access. For a computer nerd like Lan, that was like being denied air to breathe.

He cracked his knuckles and thought about climbing down to mop up the mess with his shirt before it spread too far. A fruity sweetness drifted up from the puddle. He couldn’t move. The after-lunch lockdown was the only time he got to himself all day and his peaceful silence would be over in fifteen minutes. Other kids preferred to hang out in the games room, but Lan hated the predictable conversation that came with getting to know them.

What are you in for?

Of course you didn’t do it.

We’re all innocent in here!

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. How many hours had he lain awake last night, thinking about his tribunal again?

Too many.

Such a waste of time. There was nothing he could do about the verdict now. Nothing! For the next four years, he was stuck here.

He slowly unclenched his fists, trying not to think about going to the ‘big house’ when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t fair. Unlike the others, he really was innocent. Well, mostly innocent. Yes, he had been reading things he shouldn’t have been about the Department of Defence. No, he hadn’t downloaded specs for their new weaponised drone. He wasn’t stupid!

He turned his face into his pillow, its softness conjuring a memory of home. Back in their yellow brick cottage in Tumut, his mum would buy them all a new pillow every year.

Don’t want you developing a dust mite allergy like your sister, she’d say, handing him a freshly boiled pillowcase. Only the best for my number one son.

She probably regretted that philosophy now, especially the extra computer lessons he’d requested. They’d helped, only not in the way his parents had expected.

How could you do this? Mum had muttered, weeping in the row behind him in court while the DoD advocate had laid out the evidence.

Dad hadn’t said a thing, just rubbed Mum’s shoulder and stared at some distant spot on the far wall. What must they think of him – their number one son – the hacker and now the government’s number one enemy?

Lan could only guess, because they hadn’t phoned or written once since he’d arrived here two months ago.

He opened his eyes and rested his hands on the bunk’s cool metal frame. If only someone would believe him. He’d never steal confidential military information. He’d certainly never leave a trail leading directly back to his IP address. That was basic hacking 101. Why hadn’t the judge been able to see through that – or the cops, the lawyers, his parents…

His roommate’s glass clunked against the wall by the door. Lan frowned. The glass couldn’t have taken that long to settle. He leant over the bunk just as the glass rolled into the dresser and a frustrated squeak accompanied the patter of tiny paws.

Bit? Lan called out.

A cool winter sunbeam shone through the blinds, making the ferret’s fur look duller than its normal ginger. Bit often snuck through the vents into his room – sometimes when Lan wasn’t there and the only evidence of his visit was a chewed shoelace or lamp cord – but this was the first time there’d been blackcurrant cordial to lick.

No, Bit, Lan said, climbing down. That can’t be good for you. Come on.

The ferret squeaked in frustration as Lan picked him up and