He stopped to take stock perhaps halfway to the bank, noting that Leonski had caught Briony and was dragging her into the forest, heading in the opposite direction. He continued swimming with greater fervour, desperate to reach the Victorian side before his quarry was able to disappear into the bush completely, and it was a matter of a few more moments he was able to exhaustedly stagger up onto the bank with water pooling around his feet. Reaching down to his belt, he discovered his radio was gone – again – and was presumably lost at the bottom of the river now during his swim, although he had no recollection of it coming loose.
There… there… there…! The voice in his mind called with urgency, and he somehow knew exactly what direction it was referring to. Drawing the Browning from his sodden holster, he momentarily drew back the slide to check the weapon was indeed loaded and then flicked off the safety before taking off into the forest at as great a speed as his aching legs could manage.
He staggered on for several minutes, the uncoordinated movement somewhere between and jog and run, and eventually burst out into the open as he came across the continuation of the railway line, cutting through the forest south of the bridge. As someone whose childhood memories included some time spent camping at various points along the Murray, including that area, Thorne stopped for a moment to catch his breath and grinned as he realised where Leonski was going.
It was five or ten minutes of staggering movement through thick trees and sparse underbrush, Briony forced along ahead of him the entire way, before Eddie thought he spied a thinning of the forest ahead. It was only a few more moments before they reached the edge of the bush and were forced to come to a complete halt, standing once more at the Murray’s muddy bank as it folded back on itself in a long, winding curve that would eventually bring it right back around to almost meet the Goulburn Valley Highway again further south.
Leonski swore heartily, realising that they’d now become caught in a meander that left them possibly trapped by anyone who knew the surrounding area and had the good sense to continue on along the highway. Both he and the girl were sweating profusely now in the heat, the dry, airless environment draining their energy badly despite at least being mostly in shade.
Stuffing the revolver into his belt once more, he unslung the M1 Carbine and held it ready in both hands, using the butt to roughly force an increasingly tired Briony onward as they followed the bank of the river as it continued south. She fell, stumbling over a partially exposed tree root, and collapsed momentarily to her knees. Angry, frightened and frustrated, Leonski snarled in rage and slammed the rifle butt into the small of her back once more as she struggled back to her feet, drawing from her a sharp cry of pain.
Thorne, having reached the highway by this stage and also perspiring badly, had halted again for a momentary rest and was now close enough to hear her faint cry through the trees off to the east. The next bend in the river was just fifty metres beyond the road at that point, and Thorne was now fairly certain where Leonski was heading, the man having no real choice unless he wanted to risk a river crossing against a strong current only to end up back within a kilometre or two of the southern perimeter of RAAF Tocumwal.
Crossing the highway, he slipped quietly into the trees on the other side and settled upon a particularly thick clump of Redgum, the trunks more than enough to shield him from searching eyes as he set up watch perhaps halfway between the road and the water. He could clearly see both, and with just a slight amount of movement could also see clearly some distance into the bush along the river to the north-east… the direction from which he expected Eddie to approach.
From behind him he heard the loud, unexpected blast of a steam whistle, and his ears also began to pick out the sounds of splashing water from the same direction. After a moment he realised the sounds belonged to an approaching riverboat, the paddlewheels spinning their way through the brown, muddy water as it carried on in its journey downstream heading to and from destinations unknown. It was a sound that for a second or two stirred some rare, pleasant memories from his youth spent on the river’s banks in places just like the one he was crouched right at that moment.
The crack of branches breaking underfoot brought his mind back to the present, and as he peered through the dark shadows of trees all around, his eyes soon picked out the movement of two people along the bank, the one at the rear clearly holding a rifle. They were set to pass just thirty metres or less from his position and Thorne knew at that moment that he would never get another chance. Breathing as quietly as he was able, tension and fear building within him, he shook the sweat out of his eyes and readied the pistol in his hands, waiting for them to draw nearer.
Eddie too could hear the paddle steamer approaching as he trudged on, almost as tired now as Briony but trying to maintain the pace nevertheless. The adrenalin that had kept him functioning earlier was starting to dissipate now, leaving him drained of energy and filled with fear and self-doubt. The blood he’d lost, particularly from the gash in his cheek that was continuing to ooze slowly into a huge stain on his shirt collar and shoulder, had also left him weaker and feeling a little light-headed. It was taking too long for them to get out of the area and the predator’s instincts within him clearly told him that the more time passed, the far more likely it would be that he would be surrounded and caught, hostage notwithstanding.
The truth was, he was also forced to travel a good deal slower with Briony in tow than he could have were he on his own. She was exhausted and constantly stumbling, her sullen eyes locked on the ground directly ahead of her as he forced her on at a shuffling gait. The realisation that he might indeed be better off alone was just starting to blossom in his mind as he first realised they were again drawing close to the main road, off to the south-west. It was at that same moment that a faint but nevertheless audible sound of movement somewhere off ahead caused him to halt and crouch down, dragging Briony with him.
Thorne heard the scuffling noise too, presumably made by a rabbit or possum or some other small, insignificant animal making its way through the underbrush on whatever errand it had set itself. It mattered little: the fact was it had alerted Leonski to the possibility of something hiding up ahead and Thorne swore mightily in his own mind over having now lost any hope of surprise.
He lifted himself up slightly, taking care that his body remained in line with the trunk of the tree behind him so as to avoid producing any notable silhouette or sign of movement. Squinting hard through the trees and scrub, he imagine could indeed pick out the shadows of two heads crouched perhaps thirty metres away, but they were far too close together to be certain which was which, and again he was unable to get a clear shot.
Thorne raised the pistol all the same, sighting down the barrel at the silhouetted head that he believed belonged to Eddie Leonski. It was at that moment, finger poised on the trigger, that his peripheral vision picked out faint movement through the air to his left and he turned his head to catch sight of something small flying quickly between the trees to land somewhere off to Leonski’s rear. He snapped his head around further to the left, tracking back along the object’s flight path, and imagined for just a moment he caught a glimpse of a figure completely in shadow before it disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tall eucalypt.
Eddie whirled at the sound of the stone clattering through the bush behind him, having no idea what it was and now startled by the possibility that someone was also behind him. A moment later there was another clatter off to his front, followed by a faint splash beyond the river bank.
“I ain’t scared, whoever you are…!” He lied outright, shouting as loudly as he could and holding the carbine ready for any sign of further movement. “I still got the girl, and she’ll die first if ya try anythin’.” His change in position caused him to step in behind Briony, and with a sigh of ongoing frustration, Thorne found that again he had no clear line of fire.
There was no reply to Eddie’s threats, but another stone tumbled through the bush, again behind him, and
as he spun about once more, Thorne noticed that the unidentified figure hiding behind the tree had taken that opportunity to slip quietly closer, taking up cover in thick clump of native shrubbery a few metres further on.
He’s helping… The voice in head observed softly, but there was something new about the quality of those silent words… a strength and depth he’d never experienced before that left him feeling vaguely nauseous. He’s here to help…!
The noise of the approaching paddle steamer was increasing now too and he was willing to bet it would be difficult to pick up quiet movement against the growing racket. He also took the opportunity to move closer, ducking behind the bole of a large tree that brought him five metres or so closer as he craned his head about in search of the stone-throwing stranger but found he was at that moment nowhere to be seen.
“Where are you…?” He muttered softly, his eyes flicking this way and that in search of movement. “What are you up to…?”
Helping…! Be ready…!
Another stone crashed through the forest, clunking against a tree close behind Eddie and thudding heavily to the ground, sounding far larger than those thrown previously.
“I ain’t kiddin’ no more!” Leonski howled, finally reaching the end of his tether and leaping forward to throw an arm around Briony’s throat, dragging her toward him as he backed away, half stumbling toward the river bank. “No more screwin’ around… you show yourself now or I swear to Christ I’ll fuckin’ kill her…!” He dropped the carbine to the ground and drew his revolver, jamming the muzzle against the back of Briony’s skull and causing her to whimper in pain as he snapped back the hammer.
Now…! You have to do something now…!
“All right, all right…!” Thorne called out, the shouted words half in response to the thoughts in his own head as they were to anything Leonski had said, then added with a sigh…
“I’m here… all right…!”
Raising his hands, he stepped out from behind the tree and in to the open where Eddie could clearly see him. He and Briony were standing right at the river’s edge now, the revolver still jammed into the back of her head as he clutched at the back of her dress with his free hand.
“Holy shit…!” Leonski crowed openly as he recognised the man standing before him. “You sure are one determined son of a bitch!” He continued to hold the weapon to the girl’s head, not for a moment ignoring the pistol Thorne still held in his upraised right hand. “Now you go and drop that gun there…”
“Why,” Thorne snarled in return, forced to shout now as the paddles steamer drew ever closer, “so you can try to kill me again?”
“Which would ya like?” Leonski replied with a grin. “You… or her…? Drop the fuckin’ gun…!”
Slowly – grudgingly – Thorne began to lower his weapon, keeping it clearly pointed away from Leonski as he brought it down in front of his body and made to throw it to the ground. It was at that moment that the paddle steamer released another long blast on its steam whistle. Now just fifty metres or so away out on the river, the sound was a deafening, ear-piercing howl that startled Thorne and Eddie alike and jogged Briony’s consciousness enough to rouse her from the fear-induced stupor she’d been sliding into.
For just a split second, Eddie’s eyes and attention left Thorne and flicked across to that huge boat out on the river, and in that moment a new voice that was quite close and off to the man’s right called out just loud enough for him to hear.
“Eddie…! Eddie...! You’ll die screaming, Eddie, remember…?” It was Brandis’ voice, and it so terrified Leonski, unexpected as it was in that moment, that he actually cried out in fright and hauled his arm around to the right to bring his revolver to bear. He’d relaxed his grip on Briony at the same time, and she took that slight opportunity to lift her right foot and smash her heel down hard on his instep, causing him to howl with pain.
The combination of movements finally exposed a large section of Leonski’s upper torso as Briony used the momentum of stomping on his foot to attempt to push herself free to his left. Although he managed to retain his hold on the back of her dress, he was subsequently left wide open to Max Thorne, who wasted no opportunity.
Instead of dropping the Browning, he instead brought it up once more and released a quick shot, intentionally sending the slug slightly wide to his left to avoid Briony. It smashed into Leonski’s shoulder, spinning him around and tipping him backward into the river. He refused to release Briony however and his weight was far too great for her to resist; she toppled in after him, his hand still clutched at the back of her light cotton dress.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…!” Thorne howled in angry exasperation, quickly covering the distance to the river bank in a few seconds and holding the pistol up and ready.
Both had disappeared beneath the surface but the girl appeared a second or two later, motionless and floating face down a few metres from shore. A flash of moist redness at the back of her head suggested she’d perhaps struck it on something while underwater – a dangerous situation indeed. Without a second thought, Thorne tossed the Browning to one side and dived in after her, sinking in up to his torso and striding through the water to where she lay. Turning her over, he clutched her to his chest and dragged her back to the bank as quickly as he was able, forced to make several attempts to bring her back onto dry land as his feet slipped heavily on the muddy slope out of the water.
Carefully laying her down, he checked her airways and realised she’s stopped breathing. He knelt over her, preparing to perform CPR as she suddenly coughed violently, spraying him with foul, ingested water, and rolled onto her side, her gasps for breath shallow and hoarse. More water trickled from her mouth and pooled on the ground beneath her lips, staining it darkly.
“Can you hear me…?” He asked urgently, still kneeling over her as she curled into a frightened ball. “Briony, it’s okay now… you’re safe… can you hear me…?”
“Safe…?” She croaked softly, trying to roll onto her back once more. She was eventually able to sit up, with Thorne’s assistance, and it was only then that she finally opened her eyes and stared up into his.
“You saved me…!” She wheezed, clutching desperately at his arm. You saved me… my Jean Valjean…!”
A shot cracked past Thorne’s head at that moment, close enough for him to throw himself over Briony to protect her.
“I’ll get you, you son of a bitch!” The words floated faintly across the river to greet his ears, another shot booming out as a slug whipped through the trees off to his right. “I’ll kill all o’ you bastards!”
Spinning himself around, Thorne cast his eyes out across the water to catch sight of Eddie Leonski standing at the very bow of the PS Alexander Arbuthnot, a 47-tonne, twenty-three metre long paddle steamer that had plied its trade up and down the Murray River since 1916. Her decks were empty now, having disgorged her supplies at a small jetty upriver that serviced the nearby RAAF base.
The right side of Leonski’s army-issue shirt was stained a deep red from shoulder to waist and his arm on that side appeared to be hanging useless at his side. That he’d managed to swim across to the vessel and haul himself aboard was amazing enough, let along that he’d also managed to hang onto his revolver in the process.
He fired it again now, holding it awkwardly in his left hand, and a third slug sizzled past overhead, this one closer than the others. As Thorne ducked once more, Leonski was forced to spin around and use the pistol to scare off several of the steamer’s crew who’d come out of the engine room to see what all the shooting was about.
“Max…” that single word came from his left and he glanced sharply around to see that same, stone-throwing figure standing in shadow by the trunk of a Redgum, the bright backlighting of the river behind him making it impossible to discern the man’s features.
One thing Thorne did notice however was that he was holding the M1 Carbine Eddie had discarded moments before. Drawing his arm back, he heaved the rifle toward Thorn
e, sending it flying across the intervening space to land securely in his grasp as Thorne got his right hand firmly around the stock. Without another moment’s thought, he rose to his feet and brought the carbine to his shoulder, somehow knowing with certainty that a round would already be in the chamber.
The distance across the river was perhaps fifty metres as the paddle steamer continued on its way, having now passed their relative position on the bank, but a distance that would’ve been difficult for a handgun was absolutely no trouble for the that light carbine. Sighting carefully as Leonski turned back toward him and aimed the Smith & Wesson his way once more, Thorne fired four well-aimed shots in quick succession.
All four struck Leonski, three striking him in the chest and lower body while the fourth smashed into his right thigh, shattering the bone and drawing from him a cry of agony. He collapsed to the deck immediately, his legs no longer able to support his weight as the revolver fell from his grasp and skittered away across the deck. Unable to control his own movement, Leonski rolled straight off the side and splashed into the water once more, flailing desperately to stay afloat.
It was over in a matter of moments. The bow wave of the vessel cutting through the murky water sucked his struggling body back in against the hull, forcing him backward as it continued on at a leisurely pace of around six knots, aided somewhat by the downstream current. Unable to push away from the side, he was inexorably drawn further and further back and he was stricken with terror as he managed to right himself just long enough to see the approach of the huge, port side paddle wheel.
He screamed once before his body struck the downward-moving paddles and disappeared beneath the thrashing water, reappearing just seconds later at the rear of the wheel, pieces of his uniform snagged on the now-rising wooden slats that had originally dragged him under. With another horrific scream – a moist gurgling sound – his body was hoisted clear of the river once more and disappeared inside the wooden shroud that covered the upper, exposed sections of the huge wheels on either side.
Winds of Change (Empires Lost Book 2) Page 111