Josh and Andy Barrett are on the run. They made their getaway a month ago but they're still in hiding and trying to figure out what to do. With supplies running low, and the thrill worn off, things are getting desperate. They turn to the the only person they think can help. Is Brax in a position to help them, and will he want to?

Any feedback (good or bad) would be really appreciated!

CHAPTER 1

"Do you want some of this?" asked Andy.

He was hunkered down beside the campfire and tipping the saucepan of noodles towards Josh so he could see what was inside.

"It's chicken…" he said, "...the one you like?"

He looked across at him with concern when he didn't get a reaction. Josh was sitting with his back leaning against a tree, steadfastly ignoring him, and busily drawing yet another picture of Evie on his sketchpad. He looked tired and dirty, and he had big dark circles around his eyes.

He hadn't eaten much for the last few weeks and Andy was starting to get worried.

"Josh?! Chicken noodles?" Andy said again, "Do you want some?"

"Nope" said Josh, without even looking up at him.

He glanced from his sketchpad at the mosquito that had landed on his forearm and watched with apathy as it began to drink his blood.

Looking back at the pad on his knee, he smudged the pencil lines a little with his finger tip and tutted at himself. It wasn't quite right. He turned the page and started again.

"Mate" scolded Andy, "You have to eat!" He couldn't hide the frustration in his voice. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday… That's like 18 hours!"

"No, Andy…" he replied, "I think you'll find that I don't have to eat."He was clenching his jaw and talking through gritted teeth, just barely holding his temper. "I don't have to eat at all… In fact, if I want to starve myself to death, that's my own choice."

"You're being ridiculous!" complained Andy, as he threw the saucepan down on the grass beside him and collapsed back to sit on his bum. "Y'know, this isn't easy for me either!"

Josh ran his hand through his hair and turned to look at him with a look of disdain.

"I'm not the one treating this like it's some kind of camping trip!" he growled, as he looked around at the makeshift camp that Andy had set up. "I mean… We can't live like this forever!"

"We're not gonna have to." sighed Andy.

He rubbed his face in his hands and then pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. Still no replies! He shook his head in disappointment.

"Still nothing?" snorted Josh.

"I told you, I'm waiting for some of my contacts to get back to me…" he said a little pleadingly, "Josh! C'mon?! Would you rather I'd left you to rot in that prison cell?!"

"I don't see how this is any better." mumbled Josh, as he began smudging his fingers over the outline of Evie's eyes. "If this is our new life… hiding out in the middle of the bush… jumping at every little sound and getting eaten alive by bugs… Never getting to talk to anyone else ever again…"

"It's better than 25 years in prison!" exclaimed Andy, looking a little hurt, "Remind me never to risk my life for you ever again!"

"That's the point, Andy" said Josh, "Neither of us have any kind of life anymore..."

He stared down at his sketchpad again and began drawing Evie's eyebrow raised at him in a slightly disapproving way, "…Not a life worth having anyway. We might as well be dead… I mean, it'd be better if we both were…"

"Josh! It's not that bad" said Andy, "C'mon, mate, we'll figure things out…"

He got up and walked over to him, kneeling down beside him and putting his hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring.

"We just have to wait it out a little longer…" he said, "I have some contacts… They'll answer me soon."

"The guys with the marijuana crop?" sighed Josh, as he shook his head in a sad and disappointed sort of way, "That's the best we can hope for?!"

"It's better than this." said Andy, with a little shrug. "We'll have a roof over our head, and food, and there'll be no-one shopping us to the cops."

"Yeah, but…" said Josh, shaking his head again and gazing down at Evie's eyes. It was almost like they were silently judging him. "Drugs?"

"Beggars can't be choosers" frowned Andy, "We don't really have too many other choices…"

He took his phone out of his pocket again and checked the email account that he'd set up. No new messages there either. "It won't be that bad, mate! It's just like a farm… you work, they let you stay, they feed you… We'll be off the grid while things blow over."

"And you really think they're just gonna let us walk away?" he asked, "When we decide we want to move on? ... I suppose they're just gonna say 'Bye Josh, Bye Andy! Good luck guys! Hope it all goes well for you!'" He looked at him and shook his head, wondering how he could be so naive. "Andy! These people keep immigrant workers, trapped there like slaves!" he said, with a worried look, "You said yourself that they take their passports! They'll have even more of a hold on us… You really think that they'll just let us go?!"

Andy, slumped back onto the ground beside him and shrugged his shoulders at him in a defeated sort of way.

"What else are we gonna do?" he asked.

They sat in silence for a moment or two and stared around their squalid little campsite. They'd been doing their best to wash themselves with the bottled water that they'd brought with them, but it had rained a couple of nights before and all their clothes had gotten soaked and now stank like mildew and wet dog. They both felt filthy and uncomfortable, and had more mosquito bites than they could even count.

Their food supplies were running very low, even with Josh's half attempt at hunger strike, so they only had a few cans of soup left and a bag of bread that was threatening to go mouldy. Andy had even had to abandon an attempted food run when he'd seen a police car and gotten spooked. The car was nearly out of gas too. Things were not going well.

Their initial exuberance had died down after the first two days, and now that they were nearly a month in, the novelty had definitely worn off. Josh was angry. He was angry with himself for destroying his own life, but somehow that was translating itself into anger and resentment towards Andy. It was a familiar reaction that Andy was somewhat used to, but his patience was beginning to wear thin. They'd come close to having a fist fight a couple of evenings before, and things were still a little strained because of it.

If they couldn't cope with the first month, how were they going to manage for the rest of their lives?! What were they going to do now?! How were they going to cope with a life on the run, looking over their shoulders all the time, with no friends and no future?!

Josh glanced at Andy's phone and gave him a little shrug.

"Do you think…" he began to say, pausing for a moment and wondering whether to continue, "Do you think maybe Brax might be willing to help?"

XXXXX

"Oi Kyle, can you look at me?" asked Brax, "…Mate? C'mon?!"

He was standing beside the hospital bed and tilting his head at his little brother in concern.

"Mate, you're worrying me now!" he said, "What's going on?!"

Kyle stared out the window of the hospital room, hugging his arm across his chest in a defensive kind of way, and refusing to look at him. His other wrist was handcuffed to the bed.

"Just go." he said through clenched teeth.

"Mate, I'm not going until you tell me what happened!" said Brax.

He folded his arms across his chest and planted his feet firmly in a defiant sort of way. He was going to make him talk this time whether he wanted to or not. Things were clearly getting out of hand in the prison and he couldn't help being worried and more than a little frustrated that he wouldn't allow him to help.

This was the fourth time that he'd landed up in the hospital in the last few months. The last time had been really serious and they'd actually come close to losing him. Stab wounds to the chest and stomach! He'd refused to talk about it then too. He was just becoming more and more withdrawn and all he would say was that Brax and Ricky needed to get on with their lives and pretend that he'd never existed. That was hard to listen to.

"It had to be serious for them to bring you in here?" he ventured, looking at Kyle's split lip and the bruises on his eye and cheek.

"I said 'go'!" shouted Kyle, turning to glare at him for a moment and then looking out the window again. "I don't want you here! What part of that don't you understand?!"

"Kyle" said Brax in a softer, more pleading voice, as he approached the bed and reached out to put his hand on his shoulder.

Kyle jumped a mile high and jerked his shoulder away from him very violently.

"Don't touch me!" he gasped, pulling as far away across the bed as his handcuffed wrist would allow him. "Just don't!" he pleaded again, sounding more pained than angry this time.

Brax looked at him with growing concern and glanced at the chart that was hanging off the end of the bed. He looked at the guard who was standing at the door and then moved to the end of Kyle's bed. He lifted the chart and began to scan read the first page…

"Don't!" shouted Kyle, looking wide-eyed and startled, and trying his best to reach out to stop him. "You have no right to do that!" he whined, unable to reach him, and wincing at the pain from his cracked ribs. "That's private." he muttered in a defeated sort of way.

It was too late though. Brax was already reading. He could see the guard smirking at him in a cruel and mocking kind of way and his face burned with the shame of it all.

Brax moved away a little, and continued reading. He glanced up at him every now and then with a shocked expression on his face.

Kyle shook his head, unable to maintain eye contact, and turned to stare out the window again. He just sat there clenching his jaw and breathing heavily in anger.

"Oh God, mate!" groaned Brax, looking up at him with eyes full of pity, "I don't… I... I'm…" he stammered, but he faltered when he realised how big an invasion of privacy it had been and how hurt and angry Kyle was.

He could understand now why he hadn't wanted him to see it. Why he was behaving this way. He placed the chart carefully back onto the end of the bed and approached him again looking a little shamefaced. He really didn't know what to say.

"I'm so sorry that happened… I… I'm sorry…" he stammered, "Do you want... Do you want to talk about it?" He reached out again, tentatively putting his hand on Kyle's handcuffed arm, "…Or… Or …Do you need something for the pain?"

"Fuck off!" growled Kyle, as he shrugged his hand away, "Get off me!"

"Kyle, I'm just…" he began to say.

"Just go!" said Kyle, in a flat and distant sounding voice. He was still refusing to look at him. "I don't want you here…" he said, "I don't want any of you here…"

Brax glanced again at the guard standing at the door who still seemed to be smirking a little. He wanted to go over there and wipe that smile off his face for him! This wasn't funny. None of it was!

"I don't want to leave you like this." he said,. "Mate… I'm worried about you and…"

"Jesus, Brax?! Can you just go?!" groaned Kyle, "Just forget about me and move on."

"You know I can't do that" said Brax, as he sat down heavily on the chair beside the bed and gave an unhappy sigh. "The only reason those guys have it in for you is because of me… You know you wouldn't be copping it like this if you weren't a Braxton."

He stared at the floor a little sadly and wondered how on earth he was going to fix things for him. At this rate, he wasn't going to last one year, never mind ten!