A squeeze of the shoulder, just a little too hard.
It had been a shift as sudden as it was absolute; all eyes were on Simon now.
‘This bloke,’ Steve announced to the group, ‘is a dead-set legend. You know what I saw ’im do before?’
Simon’s face was hot.
Steve’s voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. ‘I saw ’im scull a beer. Almost a whole beer.’
The laughter was rough, raucous and too loud. Simon wanted to shrink away into nothing.
‘Hey, let’s not be a pack of pricks.’ Steve raised both hands. ‘This bloke, he’s more than meets the eye. Managed to bag one hell of a sheila.’ He gestured to Maggie. ‘And she doesn’t strike me as the type to go in for a pity root.’
Maggie said nothing. The blonde girl looked at her.
‘Just as well,’ Steve said to Simon. ‘Kayden had eyes on little Maggie here. You might’ve had a fight on your hands. But you’re tougher than you look, so you’ll be alright, hey?’
Kayden was watching Simon now, smiling as he chewed.
Simon shrugged.
‘How’s that for modesty,’ Steve said. ‘More drinks?’
The night wore on. Simon felt lost and untethered. Maggie was hardly paying him any attention; she kept slipping out of his sight, leaving him alone in a swirl of whispers, quickly averted eyes, and snatches of harsh cackles. He didn’t know how long they’d been there. He didn’t want to check his phone in case that provoked them somehow. He also didn’t want to remind himself that he had no reception out here. The gathering was getting louder as the fire built and built. There were drunken yells, frequent snaps of cans being opened and always the eyes: keen, piercing and focused, even with the drink.
More beers were thrust into his hands. He didn’t want to drink, but he didn’t see a choice. His thoughts grew duller. The jagged fear, conversely, worsened, like something unnaturally heavy in his gut.
He found a crate and sat as close to the fire as he dared, staring into the flames. By now, he had given up attempting to tail Maggie. From what he could tell, she was having a great time. An ugly, paranoid part of his brain suggested she had lured him here deliberately, as some kind of attempt to humiliate him. At that stage it made about as much sense as anything else. He drank more. He wanted to get the hell out, but doubted he could drive now even if he wanted to.
‘Trent’s still out there?’ The voice, deep and slow, belonged to Kev. The big man was talking to Steve and someone else Simon didn’t recognise, a thin and craggy-faced man with a grubby suit jacket over his singlet and straggly grey hair.
‘Dog with a bone, Uncle Trent.’ Steve swigged from a beer. ‘Told him to let the big pig go. We already got a couple of bullets in the fucker; it wasn’t goin’ far.’
‘Don’t underestimate,’ Kev said easily. He swayed on the spot, hands on his stomach as he looked into the flames. ‘Fear is like petrol. Bad for you, but fuck it makes you go.’
‘Bullets are like bullets,’ Steve said flatly. ‘They kill you no matter how fast you are.’
‘Trent might take shit too seriously,’ the thin man said. ‘But if he stops a big pig rotting in the river and flowing back to us, I’m inclined to let him do his thing.’
‘You couldn’t find the pig,’ Kev said to Steve. ‘Maybe Trent will.’
‘I found something better.’ There was a note of anger to Steve’s voice. ‘Because I know when a cause is lost.’
Something icy was cutting through the tipsy haze. Simon stood. He had to find Maggie.
‘You’re the boyfriend.’
The blonde girl was sitting cross-legged on an overturned oil drum nearby. Her tangled hair and the low firelight made it hard to see her face. She was holding a bottle of rum, which she swigged from. Her hair parted slightly and Simon caught sight of wide blue eyes locked on his.
‘Simon,’ he said, trying to sound steady.
‘Simon.’ The word was elongated, as if she was trying it out. ‘You’re the talk of the town, mate.’
Simon shuffled on the spot and glanced around, looking for Maggie.
‘That sheila of yours is a bit more popular, though,’ the girl said. ‘Pretty new thing for all the blokes to drool over.’ She sniffed. ‘If I were you, I’d be over there making sure they know what’s what.’
‘She’s not my . . .’ Simon cleared his throat. ‘We’re not actually together.’
‘Nah?’ The girl angled the bottle at him. ‘Then she’s the one, maybe, who needs to know what’s what. Kayden, Matty, the others, sure. She can work her way through all of them. But if she touches Steve, different story.’
The heat was becoming oppressive now, the fire turning the warmth of the night up to sweltering. Simon felt stuffy and uncomfortable. He couldn’t seem to think straight and this girl wasn’t helping. ‘She’s not . . . Look, she wouldn’t be interested in them, so—’
‘Why not?’ the girl asked. ‘Not good enough for her, eh? You the better option, are you?’
‘No,’ Simon said. ‘No, I just . . .’ He didn’t know what to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie talking to one of the older women, and made to head for her, mumbling something apologetic.
‘Do much running, back in the city?’ the girl called after him.
Simon looked back at her. ‘Why?’
She shrugged. ‘Just curious. You fast?’
Simon couldn’t speak. He turned and hurried towards the house. As he did, he was sure he could hear the girl laughing to herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Now
Frank moved fast. He went through the kitchen quickly, turning off the deep-fryer and the rest. He put the cash from the day in the safe and hit the lights.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Delilah demanded as he passed her in the storeroom.
He ignored her as he looked out the back. His bicycle was gone; the only vehicle was the quad bike he’d used to race over. Charlie and Delilah’s van was parked out the front, but they could get that later. It was the least of his worries. He shut the back door, mind racing. His eyes moved to the top shelf of the storeroom.
‘Frank.’ There was a scared note in Delilah’s voice now.
He wasn’t sure what to tell her. He had insisted she come with him, due to a maybe misguided mistrust of the two backpackers in his house. Now, fairly certain they were harmless, it just seemed like another annoying complication.
‘Hopefully nothing.’ He reached up to the shelf and felt around until his hand landed on the pistol. He took it down.
Delilah stepped back. ‘Why the fuck,’ she said, so slowly it was clear she was trying to keep her voice even, ‘do you have that?’
Frank looked from the gun to Delilah. ‘There was a man. He was looking for her.’
Delilah swallowed and looked at the storeroom door.
‘You asked me what I think happened to that girl,’ Frank said. ‘Join the dots. She turns up, looking the way she does, hurt bad. Then a few minutes later, this guy arrives. And besides . . .’
‘What?’ Delilah asked, seeing the look on his face.
‘I know guys like that,’ Frank said. ‘Knew, anyway. We have to be careful.’
‘There’s careful, then there’s pulling a gun.’
Frank couldn’t think of what to say. The look in Reg’s eye, that leer, the way he held himself – it was the same way they’d all been, out in the bush, guns in hand, downing beer and rum and the other stuff, whooping and cheering every time they saw movement in the night and fired. Deer, mostly. Those brown eyes, dying in the dark, were in his head again.
Frank crossed the room and moved the tins on the opposite shelf until he found the one he wanted. He opened it and took out the ammo. He loaded the gun, the movements mechanical and near automatic even after all these years. He hefted the gun and was surprised by how natural it felt to have it back in his hand.
‘You’re being paranoid,’ Delilah said. ‘You know that, right?’
; They both heard the creak of the screen door out front opening.
Allie reached the house, threw her bike down and ran onto the porch. She felt like she was about to throw up. She didn’t like that man. Not the way he spoke or looked. She didn’t like that she had left her grandad with him or the fact that it was going to be dark soon. She just needed to get into her room, lock the door and not leave until it was morning. She could get her phone then. She must have pushed it back further than she’d thought, past the boxes and cobwebs. Maybe.
The moment she was through the front door, she remembered. In the living room, the girl was still on the couch, a little cleaner, especially her now bandaged leg. She was still asleep.
The girl is trouble.
Charlie held the girl’s wrist, apparently taking her pulse. He looked up and started on seeing Allie. ‘Shit, you scared me. Where are the others?’
Allie said nothing.
‘Is Delilah with you?’
Allie shook her head.
Charlie turned to the window. His expression was almost pained. ‘I think we made a mistake not calling an ambulance straight away. I’ve done the best I can. But I can’t tell how bad she is, not without proper equipment. I just . . . I think we should call one. Now.’
Allie opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out.
Charlie stood. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’
Frank’s arm twitched as he prepared to raise the gun. He didn’t. Instead, he tucked it in the back of his jeans and kept his hand on it as he pushed the internal door open and stepped up behind the counter.
The man who’d come in couldn’t have been a bigger contrast to Reg. He was medium height, shoulders slumped and paunchy, a little unshaven but not nearly enough to get rid of the office-bound look he had. Slicked-back hair, double chin and a crumpled yet clearly expensive suit. Frank glanced past him to the car parked out the front. Even from here it looked worth a lot.
‘I almost thought there was no-one here,’ the man said. ‘Lights off and everything. I’ve filled up; I just want to pay for the fuel and maybe get a bite to eat.’
‘We’re closed,’ Frank said. He didn’t take his hand from the gun.
‘But the door was open.’ The man pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. ‘You’re still here.’
‘We’re closed,’ Frank said again. ‘Get going.’
The man looked confused. ‘Buddy, I’ve got a full tank of your fuel out there. Do you want me to pay or not?’
Frank looked past him again, into the darkening sky. ‘It’s on me. Now get out of here.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ the man said. ‘This is a bit of a joke. You’re the only roadhouse for kilometres. You do realise people need supplies, don’t you? It’s not late.’
‘It’s late enough.’
‘Look here.’ The man shook his head. ‘I’ve been on the road all goddamn day and I just want something to eat and drink. I don’t know why that’s such a big ask. I’ll be quick.’
‘Grab some chips or something.’ Frank nodded to one of the shelves. ‘Then get out. I don’t give a shit about the fuel. We’re closed.’
The door behind Frank opened. He didn’t have to turn to know it was Delilah. The man raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
‘Oh right,’ he said. ‘Of course. Typical. You’re having fun on the job and that’s why you’re turning away paying customers.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a disgrace, buddy. You have a responsibility out here. People can be stuck here without you and—’
‘Mate.’ Frank looked the man in the eye. ‘I’m asking nicely. Please leave.’
‘I’m not letting you strand people here because you’re fucking horny,’ the man said.
‘You’ve got the wrong idea,’ Delilah said from beside Frank.
The man snorted. ‘Oh yeah, sure thing. I bet that’s—’
Frank pointed the gun at the man’s face. Delilah gasped. Frank could feel his pulse, resonating through his entire body, just like it used to back on the hunt. His head pounded. ‘Get out.’
The man was frozen, staring at the barrel.
Frank held the weapon steady. He softened his voice. ‘Please.’
The man didn’t move. He didn’t look like he could.
‘Frank,’ Delilah whispered. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘I need you to leave,’ Frank said to the man. ‘Now. There isn’t time.’
‘Time for what?’ Delilah stepped around, so that she was between Frank and the man, although out of the way of the gun. ‘Frank, this is crazy. What do you think is going on here?’
Frank looked at her. She was wide-eyed, terrified. He looked at the man. His expression hadn’t changed, but a dark stain had spread across the front of his suit pants.
Frank looked to the window again. Night was falling. Everything stayed quiet. He lowered the gun. He was shaking suddenly.
‘Jesus,’ he breathed. ‘I’m sorry. I thought . . . I really thought . . .’
A sound in the night. The distant roar of an engine.
Frank’s eyes moved to the window. The darkness was receding. He walked forwards, passing both Delilah and the man. His hand tightened around the gun again as he reached the entrance to the roadhouse.
To the right, down the highway, the glare of powerful high beams approached. A wall of light, highlighting the whole road, accompanied by the sound of engines. It wasn’t one vehicle but several, ten at least, moving fast, all blurring together in a snarl of diesel thunder.
Frank backed up as the vehicles neared and started peeling away from each other. Some went straight to the front of the roadhouse. Others around the back. Surrounding the place.
Frank turned to the others.
‘Out the back.’ His voice was low and hoarse. ‘Now.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Then
Simon woke up on the couch, head at a strange angle and a crick in his neck. He briefly wished he had slept in the car. Maybe he would have managed more than an hour.
He got up and stepped outside. It was a warm morning and for a moment the smell of gum leaves and fresh air almost made him relax.
‘G’day there.’ Wearing the same clothes and the same amused look as yesterday, Steve was leaning against a tree across the road.
Had he been waiting there, watching the house? How long for? ‘Hi.’ Simon tried to return the smile.
‘How’d you sleep? They’re not four-poster feather beds, but I reckon they beat a car seat.’ Hands in pockets, Steve crossed the road, eyes wandering over Simon’s shoulder to look into the house.
‘They do. Thanks.’
Steve stopped a few metres from Simon. ‘Maggie up?’
‘Why?’ Simon asked, a little more quickly than he’d intended.
Steve raised his hands. ‘Whoa, mate, relax. Just askin’.’
‘She’s asleep.’
‘You sure?’
He nodded.
‘So you are fuckin’ her.’
Simon gaped at Steve, who still looked as though he was in the middle of telling a hilarious joke. ‘What?’
‘Well, if you’re sure she’s asleep, you’d have to have been in her room, right? So unless you’re some fuckin’ perv—’
‘There were no . . . no sounds coming from her room,’ Simon said, wondering why the hell he was justifying himself to this creep. ‘She might be awake. I don’t know.’
‘But before you said you were sure she was asleep.’ Any hint of a smile vanished. ‘Which is it?’
Simon shook his head and when he spoke he could hear the waver in his voice. ‘I don’t know.’
Steve cocked his head to one side, as if examining Simon. ‘Best you don’t lie to people, mate. Never know who might take it badly.’ With a wave, he turned and started walking, yelling out to a couple of others as he headed up the street.
Simon stared after him. It took him a second to realise he was trembling and another to tell himself he was being idiotic. He started to go back ins
ide, then stopped. He rested his head against the door.
What had Steve actually said that was threatening? Last night, in the dark by the fire after driving through the bush, everything about this place had seemed like a huge mistake. He turned and looked over the street again. He wasn’t going to lie to himself that he was comfortable here, but this was what he had been looking for, wasn’t it? Something different, something genuine. A bearded, stooped man gave Simon a toothless leer as he strolled by. Simon forced himself to wave back. He took a long, deep breath.
Just country blokes.
Putting his hands in his pockets, he stepped down and started to walk up the street, doing his best to look relaxed. He said hello to the couple of people he passed. Maybe he could learn a bit more about this place, be less judgemental and try to make the most of it, even if he didn’t really like it. It would be fine. It was fine.
He had just about reached the end of the street when he became aware that someone had fallen into step behind him. He looked back and flinched.
The blonde girl from the night before was right there, on his heels. In the light of day, her hair looked matted and greasy, her frame unnaturally skinny.
‘Um. Hi.’ Simon’s voice sounded pinched.
She was uncomfortably close. Simon resisted the sudden, strong urge to shove her away.
‘Steve came by the house?’ she said.
Simon nodded, unsure of what to say.
‘He wanna talk to that bitch?’
The bite on the final word took him aback. ‘Um . . . no. No, he left. He just asked about her and left.’
‘What did she say to him last night?’
‘I don’t . . . nothing. Nothing.’
Closer again, too close. A strand of her hair brushed Simon’s cheek. He made himself stay still. She stank of cigarettes and stale alcohol, and something coppery and metallic, something—
‘I’ll fucking break her, you know.’ The girl’s voice was soft and calm, almost teasing. ‘Get her skinny little neck in my hands. It’s not hard. People think you’ve gotta be strong but, nah, it’s about where you put your hands. About putting pressure in the right place and twisting just so. Quick and easy. Then she’ll be gone and you’ll be alone here.’
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