by Jaye Ford
She was in the hallway, past her bedroom door, almost out. Then skidding, trying to stop, sliding in her socks, legs wheeling on the slippery timber. Oh, Christ, no. Kane was at the other end of the hall. A silhouette in the door like his brother had been. Only she could see his face, see the ‘gotcha’ look. And knew there was no way out.
35
Kane’s fist came at Jodie like a freight train. She had time to duck a fraction, probably saved her cheek from being crushed, but the impact on her forehead drove her across the hall and slammed her into the wall.
Her knees turned to rubber and she slid down the wall, tipping drunkenly to one side. She felt movement before she saw it, curled instinctively into a ball, took Kane’s first kick on her thigh. There wasn’t time to register pain. Just time to wrap her arms around her head, roll away far enough to protect her ribs and take the second kick on her hip. Kane was lifting his foot high, slamming down with the rubber sole, trying to crush her like a beetle. He had a hand on the wall above her, crowding her in. There was no escape. She tucked her head in, tried to get her strongest bones under him, felt anger form a hard, hot, solid mass inside her.
She wasn’t going to die. Not yet.
Not in a damn hallway. With Matt dead outside, with Louise shot and bleeding and trapped with Hannah in a wardrobe.
As she flinched for another blow, Kane was knocked away and Travis’s voice bounced off the walls. ‘Get her out of here.’
‘I’m gonna kill the fucking bitch.’
‘You’re gonna do what you came here for first.’
Between the arms curled over her face, Jodie watched Travis shove his brother again. This time, Kane came back at him. She kept her head down as they heaved each other around, throwing punches, their feet catching her painfully. It was Travis who brought it to an end, stopping Kane in a chokehold against the wall.
‘Get her the fuck out of here and get under the barn or you can sort your own shit out.’
Jodie heard nothing but heavy breathing for a long, tense moment. She closed her eyes, prayed Kane would do as he was told. Someone grabbed the neck of her sweater, started dragging her along the floor.
Travis had saved her life – for now.
Matt bit down on the cuss at his lips. His shoulder was on fire. Blood was slick on his arm, seeping through his sleeve, running into his hand. The bullet had ripped right through his triceps, left a wide gash on the underside of his upper arm. He fingered a painful, hardening lump on his temple. He must have hit his head on the way over the verandah, got knocked out. He didn’t know for how long – or for how long he’d dropped in and out of consciousness. He just knew he had to get moving.
He gripped his shoulder with his other hand, rolled off the mound of shrubbery he’d fallen into, laid in the dirt under the lip of the verandah for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to subside.
Jodie was unbelievable. She’d been two minutes late. He’d just about given up on her. Didn’t think she’d pull off the shot while there was a gun to her friend’s head. But she had. Smack through the car window. And then she’d managed to knock out the power. They’d talked about that before she’d left. She hadn’t been a hundred per cent sure where the box was but they’d agreed if it was where she thought it was, if it was safe, she’d kill the lights too.
And she’d been right about Corrine. The blonde had slammed that nailfile home. Buried it deep in Kane’s thigh. Just as well because she couldn’t run for shit. She’d needed every second she had to get out of the light. With any luck, she was now stumbling about in the bush towards the road, heading to a phone. Matt needed help up here. And he wanted Kane and Travis in custody. Handcuffed, locked in the back of a van, facing down life in prison. They deserved to suffer for the things they’d done.
Both brothers were inside now. Matt had seen Kane turn on the roof-mounted spotlights on his truck. It was the blinding light that had finally forced him into full consciousness. He’d heard Kane’s limping stomp across the verandah and now he and his brother were shouting at each other inside the barn, slamming doors.
It was time to move. While they were at each other. Before they turned on the other two hostages. Get them back to Jodie in the bush then get them all to safety.
Matt pulled himself into a sitting position, his head spinning like a barrel, clambered about in the garden until he found a way out. His knee was bad and his arm was useless and he was bleeding like a stuck pig. He needed to get this done fast. He checked the verandah, made sure he was alone, then ran low and limping across the grass to the bedroom end of the barn.
It was darker around there. Just enough light from the car to see what he was doing. He crept across the deck, slipped through the French doors, folding them open against the wall behind him. One of the brothers was talking loudly at the other end of the barn, the sound muffled through the closed bedroom door. In the eerie light from outside, he could see dark circles of his own blood on the floor, a tyre iron in front of the wardrobe – and the spade still securing the handles.
He quietly removed the spade, eased one door open, looked inside. The light didn’t penetrate to the back of the walk-in robe and it took a second for him to see them. The two women were huddled in the far corner, the injured one, Louise, lying down, her knees curled up, her head on the lap of the nurse, Hannah.
As he approached them, Hannah braced both arms protectively around Louise, in a way that made Matt think she’d spent her time in the wardrobe pulling herself together. She seemed to have moved on from the sheer terror that had pinned her to the wall before. She was frightened now, that was obvious in the wide-open eyes, but she looked bolder, more resolute.
‘It’s okay. It’s Matt,’ he whispered as he knelt beside them. ‘How is she? Can she walk?’
He spoke to Hannah but Louise answered. ‘If you can help me get on my feet, I can walk.’
Matt couldn’t see her face clearly in the dark but her voice was determined. She needed to be. It was a long walk to the bush and he couldn’t carry her. Not now.
‘Where’s Jodie?’ Hannah said.
‘Tie her to the post,’ Travis ordered.
Kane dragged Jodie to her feet, shoved her face first at one of the big, old tree trunks holding up the roof of the lounge room. As he pulled her arms around either side of the trunk, bound her wrists tight with electrical tape, the double-edged knife tattooed on his forearm swam sickeningly across her still-woozy vision. Travis stood back and watched, wiped at the blood on his face and glared at his brother. He was out of breath from the fight in the hallway but his heavy breathing seemed to be more about reining in his fury. Fury that wasn’t just aimed at Jodie.
When Kane was done, he pulled on her hands, dragged her hard up against the trunk, got in her face. ‘I’m gonna enjoy doing you, bitch.’
‘Get the fuck under the barn,’ Travis yelled at him.
Kane spun around, looked ready to charge but stopped when he saw the gun in Travis’s hand. He held the pistol low at his side, muzzle pointed to the floor.
‘You gonna use that thing on me?’ Kane’s growl was a challenge.
‘You gonna get under the barn or make me think about it?’
Jodie watched from behind as Kane folded his arms across his chest. When he spoke, his voice was filled with venom. ‘You wanna be the old man now?’ He took a threatening step forward.
Travis raised the gun.
Kane roared, ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’
‘I’m the one with the gun.’
Neither brother moved for a second.
‘You leave her for me,’ Kane said.
‘The tough bitch is all yours.’ Travis’s first words were spoken calmly then he raised his voice to a bawl. ‘So do something useful and get under the goddamn barn.’
‘Fuck you!’ Kane shouted but gave up the fight.
Travis watched in silence as Kane dropped his legs into the hole and disappeared under the floor. He turned, focused on Jodie for a br
ief, tense moment then walked to the kitchen.
Jodie closed her eyes, swallowed at the bile in her throat. She was pressed up close to the gnarly surface of the tree trunk, the dried remains of the bark rough against her cheek. She was still in her socks, dirt crusted on the knees of her jeans, Corrine’s white sweater torn and filthy. Her face hurt. Her head felt like it wasn’t sitting properly on the top of her neck and she had large patches of tender new bruising along the right side of her body. But her anger was intact. Travis was leaving her for Kane and her anger felt great. It felt like a weapon. The only weapon she had.
Off to her left, a tap was turned on in the kitchen. She moved her head, rested her other cheek against the trunk, saw Travis at the sink cleaning blood from his face – some of it fresh from the fight, some of it dried and crusted from when she’d smashed his head into the brick pier.
She smiled a little at the memory of that. She’d been terrified down there, had been terrified since she’d walked through the front door this afternoon, but as she watched Travis, she realised she felt no fear now. Kane and Travis were going to kill her. They were going to kill Louise and Hannah. She was never going to see her beautiful children again. There was nothing she could do about it. But fear wasn’t what she felt.
What she felt was hotter and sharper and filling her up, infusing every artery, every vein, every muscle.
She thought about how it might go. When Kane was finished under the barn, Travis was going to let him get his kicks spilling their blood. Travis had been using Jodie and her friends as a bribe all night. Like bribing a child with chocolate to make him clean his room, only Kane got a thrill kill if he did his job. But he had to do his job first. Travis was worried about time, worried that if Kane got started before they were ready to leave, they were going to run out of time. Which meant whatever Kane did to get his thrills, it wasn’t quick. His warning to Matt came back to her.
I’m gonna beat your brains out and cut you up in little pieces.
Jodie looked at the hole in the floor, at Travis wiping his face on his shirt, felt the heat inside her rise.
She was not going to die in fear. Too much of her goddamn life had been spent fearing the evil of others. Fearing the pain that could be inflicted. The screaming and the blood and the loss and the powerlessness. Well, she’d been there. Done that. And she was over it. Fucking over it.
‘Jodie’s waiting for you in the bush,’ Matt said as he eased Louise upright and let her rest against the back wall of the wardrobe.
‘They got her,’ Hannah said.
‘No, she’s in the bush, waiting for us.’
‘You saw her?’
He hesitated a second. ‘Yeah.’
Hannah put her hands to her face, pulled in a shuddering breath. ‘Oh, God. I thought they got her. I thought it was too late.’ She looked up at him again. ‘What about Corrine?’
Matt wrapped Louise’s arm around his neck. ‘She jammed Kane with the nailfile and ran for her life.’
Louise smiled weakly.
Hannah gasped. ‘Oh my God. Is she okay?’
‘She made it to the bush. Safest place to be right now. That’s where we’ve got to get you two. Hannah, you’re going to have to help me.’
Louise slid her arm across his shoulder, lifted her hand quickly. ‘Jesus, you’re bleeding.’
‘Yeah. Come on. We’ve got to go.’
He stopped them at the door, checked the bedroom, put a finger to his lips then pointed to the French doors. He was worried about the noise of their shoes on the timber floor. Impossible to drag an injured woman across a room without making a sound. But they made it to the doors, inched through sideways, half carried Louise across the verandah. Pain filled his arm, spilled into his chest, made his lungs spasm. He was gasping for breath as they took the steps but he couldn’t afford to stop. He had to get the women across the clearing as fast as possible. It was dark but not pitch. Kane or Travis could make a mess of them firing the shotgun from the verandah. He couldn’t hear them now. Could only hear his own rasping breath, Louise’s agonised wheezing, their feet pounding on the grass in rhythm with his heart.
The twenty metres to the scrub felt more like twenty kilometres. When they were through the first line of foliage, Matt lowered Louise to the ground, looked back up at the barn and tried to work out where he and Jodie had sat in the dirt. Where Jodie would be waiting for them.
‘We need to get further into the bush,’ he whispered.
‘Where’s Jodie?’ Hannah asked.
‘She’s waiting for us further in. Can you keep going, Louise?’
She didn’t answer for a second. Her breathing was shallow, uneven, as though it hurt to draw in air. ‘Yep,’ she finally managed.
Matt helped her to her feet again, grimaced at the pain in his shoulder, wiped the blood that had run down to his hand on his jeans. He walked them another five metres, found a small clearing, let them stop. There was enough light for them to see each other, barely, not enough to see much further. Jesus, Jodie could be anywhere out here.
‘Jodie?’ he called softly. He held his breath in the silence. ‘Jodie.’
‘Where is she?’ Hannah asked.
Matt pressed the digital display on his watch. It glowed like a torch in the darkness. Eight-fifty-four. Twenty-five minutes since she left. He closed his eyes. It took her eight minutes to throw the rock, give her two more to kill the lights. That’s fifteen left to hightail it back here.
‘Matt? Where is she? Where’s Jodie?’ Hannah said.
‘Not here.’ Goddamn it, Jodie. Where the hell are you?
Beside him, Hannah was starting to panic. Flinging her hands around, talking to herself, stumbling in the bush. ‘Jodie!’ she cried, too loud for comfort.
‘Be quiet!’ he hissed.
‘They’ve got her, Matt. We heard them. They’ve got her.’ She was crying now and he could hear the dread in her voice.
Christ, it was all he could do to stop her fear from running rampant inside him. He looked at the dark scrub, at the distant light from Kane’s car. Maybe she couldn’t get back to the bush without being seen and was hiding under the verandah. Maybe she fell, sprained her ankle. Maybe he got the wrong spot and she was waiting for them thirty metres away.
Maybe she was in the barn. With Kane and Travis.
Hannah’s words came back to him and he turned to her. ‘What do you mean you heard them?’
‘She was in the bedroom. Just before you got there. And Travis. We heard them fighting. Then they were gone.’
She was in the bedroom? He told her to come straight here. She was never meant to go inside. He squeezed his eyes shut. She’d been out of it, goddamn it. She’d been out of the barn, away and safe, and he let her go back. Fuck, Matt, what have you done?
He thought of her, before she left. Stretching her quads, warming up, kissing him. She’d been totally in control in those few minutes. Frightened but determined. Last time I ran for help, my best friend was murdered. This time I’m not leaving.
No one could have stopped her.
If people died because of you, then you need to do it better this time, Matt.
Matt looked up at the barn again. ‘No hostages are dying tonight, Jodie.’
‘What?’ said Hannah. She was crying.
He took off his jacket, winced at the pain. ‘I’m going back.’
‘They’ll kill you, Matt.’
He ripped off his torn sleeve, held it out to Hannah. ‘Bandage my arm.’
‘Oh God, are you shot?’
‘Make it tight to stop the bleeding.’
She held his sleeve in her hand like she didn’t know what to do with it.
‘Now, Hannah. Then you and Louise get moving.’
‘What about Jodie?’
He looked at Hannah’s frightened eyes, at Louise at his feet on the dirt. ‘She won’t be long now.’
36
‘What’s under the barn?’ Jodie figured if she was going to die, she
may as well know what for.
‘Keep your mouth shut, bitch,’ Travis said. He was at the sink, didn’t look at her when he spoke.
Jodie smiled to herself. He was going to kill her but she was going to piss him off first. It was the least she could do. ‘It must be pretty damn impressive.’
He ignored her, took off his blood-smeared shirt, tossed it on the marble bench. He was wearing a filthy white T-shirt, part of a tattoo showing below the sleeve of his right arm – it looked like half a coiled snake.
‘I mean, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble here,’ she said, her voice growing in force.
He grabbed the bottle of bourbon off the bench, unscrewed the cap.
‘Hacked a bloody great hole in a perfectly good floor. Assaulted a bunch of women minding their own business.’
He looked across at her with narrowed eyes, smears of blood on his face, an open wound on the bridge of his nose. He tipped the bottle for a long drink.
‘Pretty goddamn daring stuff, Travis. You’re a real hero.’
He slammed the bottle onto the marble. ‘I told you to shut up!’
She went on talking as though he hadn’t said a word. ‘Oh yeah, you shot a cop, too. At least that fuck-up brother of yours did. Whatever the hell it is down there, it’d want to be pretty damn impressive for that.’
He lifted the bottle and hurled it at her. A wide arc of bourbon curled into the air as the bottle flew across the room. She turned her face away as it hit the other side of the tree trunk and smashed on the floor. At least the pistol hadn’t been the closest thing to hand. It was tucked into the back of his jeans. Out of sight, out of mind, she hoped. She looked back at him, flinched as he swept one outstretched arm across the island bench. Glassware, crockery, cutlery and the unwashed frypan crashed to the floor.