Cadaver Dog
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About this ebook
After his marriage breaks up Shane's father buys an old bush school property next to Clarry Johnson's neglected orchard and Shane and his dad move there. It is an eerie, lonely, isolated place, far removed from Shane's earlier life. Living in a small caravan in the deserted school grounds adds to Shane's feeling of vulnerability.
Alan Horsfield
Alan Horsfield has published more than one hundred books, many of them educational texts in literacy and numeracy. His works have been published around the world. Alan is a former teacher and past president of the New South Wales Children’s Book Council and is a former judge for the New South Wales Premiers Book Awards. He loves writing books for children with interesting and quirky story lines that encourage children to read and look at things differently.
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Cadaver Dog - Alan Horsfield
Copyright © Alan Horsfield 2003
This edition published in 2017 by EJH Talent Promotion
First published in 2003 by Lothian Press
The right of Alan Horsfield to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Requests and enquiries should be addressed to:
Alan Horsfield, 9 Milman Drive, Craiglie QLD 4877
anehorsfield@westnet.com.au
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Creator: Horsfield, Alan, author.
Title: Cadaver dog / Alan Horsfield ; Rosemary Peers, editor ; Nancy Bevington, cover design.
ISBN: 9780648027003 (paperback)
ISBN: 9780994457998 (ebook)
Target Audience: For young adults.
Subjects: Dogs—Juvenile fiction. Murder—Investigation—Juvenile fiction. Young adult fiction.
Proofread by Rosemary Peers
Cover design and internal graphics by Nancy Bevington
Book design, layout and production by DiZign Pty Ltd, Sydney
Printed in Australia
To the ghosts of the teachers and students that haunt the many abandoned small schools scattered throughout the Australian bush.
Chapter 1
Rocky Road Ahead
The narrow, over-patched strip of broken bitumen suddenly turned into rutted, corrugated, rocky road. The bullet-damaged road sign gave less than 50-m warning: GRAVEL SURFACE AHEAD.
‘Not far now,’ reassured Shane’s father.
The narrow strip of broken bitumen had been, just a few kilometres back, a wider sealed roadway. Wide enough for two vehicles. It didn’t last long. A bit like his parents’ marriage. Maybe nowadays, Shane reflected, eighteen years was not that bad!
Shane stared through the windscreen as his father negotiated the rough surface. The potholes and gutters across the road jarred right through the suspension of the old Holden utility.
The caravan they were towing objected to the road, the sudden braking and the unexpected swerves to avoid sharp stones that seemed to have been purposely placed in the hard surface to destroy as many tyres as possible. The ute lurched and swayed. The van, like some obstinate beast, pulled and swayed in the opposite direction. It also had to tolerate the dust and stones thrown at its once clean front panel.
The main road to the mountains, with its centre line and well-graded edges, had long been left behind.
Shane’s father, an ex-police driver, swore as he braked and swerved to avoid yet another pothole, the van’s momentum forcing the utility to edge forward. They continued down the centre of the road. They hadn’t passed another vehicle for at least half an hour.
Shane watched the passing scenery — long paddocks of yellowing grass and scraggy bushes, clumps of black ironbark trees and a scattering of small farmhouses. Many looked deserted or uncared for. Rusting vehicles were the basic garden decoration. The only sign of modern living was the occasional TV antenna that, more often than not, seemed attached to the house with a minimum of effort and thought.
A small bridge rattled and bounced as they inched across the loose planks.
‘Bit like hill-billy country,’ said Shane’s father with a hint of a smile.
Shane didn’t reply. For a brief moment his thoughts drifted to Sheryl, a girl in his class at school. He wondered what she might be doing.
He puzzled over what his mother might be doing — enjoying. He certainly wasn’t doing any enjoying. What had started out as a bit of an escape adventure was becoming a depressing journey into the unknown.
His high hopes of the morning departure were being whittled away with every kilometre they travelled. His mood was getting worse. He was scared he might be sick. The perpetual swaying, the smell of fuel, the dust that was seeping into the cabin and the heat of the sun through the windscreen didn’t add to his comfort and well-being.
They edged past another bullet-battered road sign. SCHOOL. It was leaning across a broken fence that separated the roadside grass from a paddock of the same grass.
‘Nearly there!’ announced Shane’s father. It sounded more like relief than excitement.
Along the road, sitting a few metres back from the curve, a small grey building came into view.
Shane’s father dropped the ute back to second gear as they reached an opening in the fence. As his father manoeuvred the ute and the van across the gutter and into the drive, Shane observed the bent and rusted gate. It hadn’t been shut for years. Its lowest bar had sunk into the ground and was overgrown with grass and small bushes.
The grey building was labelled with a peeling sign. IRONBARK RIDGE PUBLIC SCHOOL — 1887. No one had bothered to record the year it had closed.
The building was in an advanced state of decay. Windows had been roughly boarded up, the door on the back verandah hung at a dangerous angle. Boards from the steps had been removed or rotted out or eaten by white ants. Rusted guttering hung from the corners.
‘That’s the reason we need the caravan to start off with. Couldn’t live