'Fuck,' he croaked.
Something moved nearby. Taipan, blurry through tears, carrying something. Hot flesh hit Kevin's face. He grabbed it with both hands. Didn't think. No time for thinking. Just bit down and drank and drank. Something mewed like a kitten. Just one soft cry. He knew, then, but that part of him was submerged under desperate red need. He would cry later. Now, he could only feed.
'See, fella,' Taipan said, sitting back against the wall of the garage, his voice coming from a million years away, 'you ain't that different.'
Late afternoon sun was probing at the curtains when Kevin came to. He lay on a leather couch, the room lit by the blue-grey flicker of a television with the volume turned down to a murmur. Taipan drank beer and smoked. The biker had showered and changed clothes, but still wore his tattered jacket. His helmet sat on a nearby table, a silver dent showing where a bullet had scored one side.
The memories of the young girl Kevin had fed on - had consumed - followed him out of sleep.
Nicola, stirred by the noise of a motorcycle, is on her way to the bathroom; no Saturday morning sleep-in for a farm girl, not even a teenager who needs her beauty sleep, not when there are horses to feed and groom, chores to be done, assignments to get started, even this early in the term. Her life totally sucks. She's on her way to the bathroom, just like any other day except she's pissed at her father for leaving her behind, when she hears a sound from the kitchen where her mother's preparing round two of breakfast. There's a noise from the kitchen that doesn't sound right. Nicola, bleary and rubbing at her eyes, walks down the hall and asks her mum if everything's okay but quickly realises it isn't, because an Abo is fucking her mother on the table. Fucking her, but why is there so much blood? He drags Nicola, screeching and clawing, through the house and throws her down beside a dead white guy and the dead guy wakes up and…
Nicola. Age 15, turning legal in two months and three days, not that she was counting. Liked cats and horses, was extremely good at Geography and English but was bitter that her Maths and Science weren't good enough to study as a veterinarian. A bit whiney, Nicola: Why do I need chemistry to look after animals, Mum? I don't understand.
Kevin fought free of the lifestream's last tentacle, like dragging himself out of a vat of molasses. 'Where are we?' he asked, summoning the energy to sit up.
'You know as good as me,' Taipan said, not even bothering to look at him.
And he did. A horse stud on the fringe of Mt Morgan. Nicola was dating one of the hands, a local boy. He was as thick as two planks but knew all about handling horses - horses and Nicola.
'What did you do with her?' Kevin asked.
'Put her in with her mother. Dad's away in Rocky lookin' at nags. Be home late tonight or tomorra, but us fellas'll be long gone by then. Still, don't go answerin' no phones, eh.'
'The girl was upset that she couldn't go, too,' Kevin mumbled to himself as the emotions resurfaced. Tears pricked his eyes. 'She had an assignment to do. On Iraq.'
'You look like Baghdad, fella,' Taipan said.
'I feel like it. Fuck, my leg's sore.' Kevin looked down and gasped. 'Fuck - me leg!'
His left leg was missing from a couple of inches just below the knee. Nothing but a stump, the pink flesh mottled and lumpy. His left hand was a mess, too, black and red and filled with needles, and now his leg was throbbing - his leg, his hand, his ribs.
'Don't panic,' Taipan said. 'It'll grow back. Like them geckoes, us mob.'
'Jesus fucking Christ, Tai- I've lost my leg!'
Taipan stared at the television. 'You're lucky that's all it was.'
They were alone, Kevin realised. 'Where are the others?'
Taipan shook his head, swigged his beer, kept his eyes on the screen. 'I dunno where none of them are. That Kala, she maybe all right. I feel her sometimes. But maybe it's just a ghost, like that missin' foot of yours.'
'Kala. So it's just us?'
'Great, eh.' Taipan sipped on his beer. 'You shoulda told us about Mira's little fuck fest.'
'I couldn't-'
'My fault. I get it. Too busy on the warpath to see what's in fronta me face.'
'How do you know about Mira and me?'
'I had a taste while you was sleepin' it off. Seen a bunch of stuff. Young Nic there. The bloodhag. Ya dad. Ya girl. It ain't easy, eh - havin' to give it all up for life on the road.'
'You make it sound like it was a choice. Hang on, you had a what?'
'Till we get to Mother's, you need to stick close to me. Or at least, close to this. Okay?' Taipan pulled his necklace out from his shirt, a disc with what looked like canine teeth on either side. The battered medallion had a misshapen silver oval set in the centre of a five-pointed star inscribed on the disc.
'Lucky for us, that farmer has a good workshop. I already took some of ya juice to muddy the water a bit. I jigged this best I could to keep you off their radar. Course, I mighta just stuffed it up for both'a us, me not bein' up with Mother's kadaicha and all that. But I figure your trace will be weaker, seein' as how it's so old and the hag only got the one good tumble with you. This should fritz her bloodlink good enough till we can get to the nest and Mother can knock you up somethin' better.'
'So how close is close?'
'This is good. Touchin' is better. But there'll be enough'a that on the bike.' Taipan drained his stubby and stood.
'And you did all that while I sleeping? Had a good swallow, took a gander through my life, stole some blood.'
Taipan over him in the servo.
Furious, Kevin lashed out.
Taipan dodged easily. 'Settle down, fella. I did what I had to. I shoulda tasted you at the silo, even if it ain't right, drinkin' from ya own. But who'd've thought that bloodhag would get to you so quick, eh? Me pack has paid the price so you just be glad I don't try 'n' make up for it now.'
'You black bastard.'
'I love the way when you white pricks get upset, the first thing you find to accuse us of is bein' black.'
'You- you did this to me.'
'And you lot did this to me. So let's call it even, eh? I gave you the curse coz ya old man wanted me to. You wanna blame someone, blame him.'
'And he made you bite me while I was unconscious, did he? Made you take me - my life, my memories - without even asking.'
'I had to know the truth. That's it. Jesus, fella, it ain't like I fucked you.'
'What's the fucking difference?'
'Ya arse ain't sore, is it? Listen, we're in this together, all right? I coulda left you there, but I didn't.'
'And why didn't you? Why did you choose me over Reg, or Penny, or Kala?'
'You was nearest. I didn't know who I had till we was on our way.'
'Sorry.'
Taipan snorted. 'Luck'a the draw. What'd you want - flowers?'
'You are such an arsehole.'
'I've heard that. Guess I'm one of them "acquired tastes". Anyway, this is the way it is: we're stuck here till sundown. They got that chopper up in the air still. They prob'ly got the cops in as well, doin' searches.' He stared at the empty stubby, then threw it at the wall. It shattered. 'You want a beer?'
'Fine.' Kevin lay back and closed his eyes, seething, trying to process everything Taipan had told him. He wanted a long shower. He wanted to know if Kala was alive or not. He wanted his life - his leg! - back. He wanted to sleep forever and wake up at home to find all this was just some horrible, shitty nightmare.
They spent the rest of the day in uneasy silence, listening for trouble, drinking beer and watching nonsensical television from, it seemed, another planet: cars, hamburgers, home theatre; holidays in Fiji.
Why do I need chemistry to look after animals, Mum? I don't understand
They'd made the headlines, but the story on the television didn't seem to be the same incident they'd survived. Charred ruins and body bags, no sign of anyone they recognised - VS being camera shy. Road blocks in place, the stern reporter said, the survivors armed and dangerous but no descriptions.
<
br /> Kevin thought, 'Beware of strangers bearing guns', but he didn't say it out loud in case he spewed.
Cheap T-shirts, clubs with pokies and $15 steak nights.
Taipan kept watch in case the police came doorknocking and Kevin struggled to stay awake, afraid of re-entering Nicola's short life while his injured body cried out for more.
Celebrity marriage, celebrity divorce, celebrity tits.
They sat in silence, waiting for the day to end.
TWENTY-SEVEN
They lost time going through the bush to get clear of the town, and then rejoined the road going west. Kevin sat behind Taipan, his mind blank, mostly healed hand holding on tight, his wounded leg itching like a dog with mange. He didn't realise anything was wrong - anything new, at least - until Taipan pulled the bike up at the end of a long straight. Kevin raised his head for the first time since they'd hit the bitumen. Moonlight painted the barren paddocks in shades of grey. A creek cut across the flat in front of them. A road sign indicated a bridge ahead. Two police cars blocked it.
'I can see four of them coppers,' Taipan said.
'Can we go round?'
'We don't have time for that. I wanna be a long way aways from this place come sun-up. Nup, we gotta go through.'
'Jesus, Taipan, they're cops.'
'They're workin' with VS. That makes 'em the enemy. Reckon you can ride this?'
'With one foot? I can't work the shifter.'
'I'll leave it in first. Can you do it or not?'
'Sure, I guess. What are we gonna do?'
'Just drive on up to them mob and keep ya head down. Wouldn't wanna lose that other foot, eh. Gimme a few minutes, then act all distractin-like.'
Taipan ran off and was quickly lost in the scrub. A light showed in the distance - a homestead, perhaps. Kevin counted the time but lost his way when images of Nicola's wrist watch surfaced.
Happy birthday, sweetheart.
His leg was in constant pain, but his ribs had eased to being merely annoying. Having to hold the clutch in wasn't doing his injured hand any favours. Damn, but he was hungry.
Taipan appeared next to him, shocking him so much he almost stalled the bike.
'What're you waitin' for?' Taipan demanded.
'Where-'
But Taipan was gone, as instantly as he'd popped up.
Kevin took a breath. He'd had a gutful of Taipan. If he could've, he'd have turned the bike around and left the biker to make his own way to - to wherever. But that was hardly an option, not now; especially when he couldn't even get out of first gear. The Kawasaki jerked forward as he released the clutch, the bike revving under his inexperienced hand on the throttle; it felt as if the machine wanted to throw him off, resenting such ungainly treatment. When he got closer, he turned on the headlight, keeping it on high beam to try to dazzle the cops. One waved a fluoro baton, indicating he should pull over, and then the cop dropped it and ran to crouch with his mates behind their vehicles, the glint of barrels unmistakable. The thought of being shot made Kevin's skin itch. His leg throbbed as though it had caught fire. He crouched low over the tank and concentrated on keeping the bike upright.
The police car lights rotated blue. A cop with a megaphone commanded him to stop. Kevin weaved his way toward the roadblock at a crawl.
'If you don't stop now, we will shoot,' the cop shouted, anxiety clearly audible through the electronic buzz.
Taipan appeared amongst the cops. He sliced the throat of one, kicked a second into next week. He ran at the other two. One fired a shot, a dying reflex as Taipan felled him with a blow to the neck. The fourth he pinned from behind and drained.
Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.
Kevin wheeled over and shut the bike down, using his good leg to hold the machine up. It wasn't as if he could kick the stand down. He concentrated on the machine, anything to distract him from the bodies.
'You need a refill?' Taipan asked.
'Nope.' His body protested, but he was having enough trouble filtering out Nicola's life. Just how much blood could he possibly drink?
'Could be your last chance before we get where we're goin'. You need the fresh stuff, keep that leg gettin' better.'
'I can't,' Kevin said, 'not like this.'
'That Kala, she's a bit of all right, eh? It ain't always like that, fella. Gotta take it where you can.'
Kevin choked on the stink of urine, blood, gunpowder. 'I can't.'
Taipan turned his back and pissed a stream.
'So what was that trick - popping up and then doing the vanishing act? You got some kind of teleporter or something? Like in Star Trek?'
'Get real, fella. That shit ain't real.'
Taipan zipped himself up, then threw a collection of pistols and spare magazines into a saddlebag.
'Well, how did you do that?' Kevin asked.
'Black magic,' Taipan said, tapping his nose. 'Shove over. I'm drivin'.'
Kevin bit back a curse. What he wouldn't give for a straight answer. He made room on the saddle, dodged Taipan's boot as the biker mounted.
'What about these blokes? You gonna just leave them here - like this?'
'VS can clean 'em up. They woulda radioed in for sure. We gotta make miles. A lotta towns to go round between us and where we gotta get to.'
Taipan revved the bike into life, cancelling any further conversation.
Kevin sat back, preferring to use the sissy bar on the back of the seat than hold on to Taipan. After a while his thighs ached from gripping the bike. He felt giddy with the pain in his leg and the memories of Nicola.
Iraq is a country in the Middle East. It has been a fucked-up mess ever since the overthrow of Saddam Hussein
She had thrown the textbook against the wall in disgust, wishing she could be in Rockhampton with her father. Kevin knew just how she felt.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Taipan had, whether by good fortune or good planning, grabbed Penny's rugged road bike to make their escape. The Kawasaki was a sleek blue-and-silver hybrid with a generous fuel tank and top suspension. Its off-road capabilities were put to the test when they had to dodge more roadblocks and town centres, cutting across paddocks and negotiating scrub, taking to dirt roads and cattle tracks where necessary. Fuel was their major worry, Taipan leaving Kevin in the dark while he bought or siphoned petrol. Between towns, Taipan kept the bike red-lining, relying on his superior reflexes and pure skill to keep them on the road and out of the way of stray livestock and potholes.
No matter how far they went or how fast, the disaster at The Farm rode with them. They didn't speak any more than necessary. Kevin couldn't blame Taipan for hating him - it had been Kevin who had led the gunship to their hideout and he felt terrible about that, very aware he was sitting on Penny's bike, that Kala might be dead or a prisoner, that all those people he knew might be dead, too. But Kevin hadn't asked for this and hadn't known any better. Taipan had to share the responsibility and he'd admitted as much. Maybe the biker was considering that, too. Maybe that was the real reason he had the throttle open, the engine whining. Guilt wasn't so easy to leave behind.
Rolling, brown hills became increasingly flat; dusty-green trees increasingly sparse. Sagging barbed-wire fences lined the road, somehow containing the grey Brahman and red Droughtmaster cattle that dotted the paddocks like headstones. Fallow fields lay scratchy with stubble. The details of the inland landscape emerged from the pre-dawn darkness as the eastern sky started to lighten. The fuel gauge was showing fumes and there didn't seem to be a town within coo-ee. Kevin's nervousness grew. They were dangerously close to being out of petrol and out of night. Not a good combination.
They passed a set of stockyards, the loading ramp leaning and overgrown, and Taipan changed down until they were at an idle. He ran the Kawasaki off the bitumen onto a barely visible gravel road.
'Hold on,' he warned, the first words he had uttered since the last fuel stop. The bike juddered over an overgrown grid of steel rails. It was all Kevin could do to keep his se
at.
Taipan steered the bike along the winding track. On the other side of a rise they came across the ruin of a homestead, its iron roof splotched with rust and holes, its walls bowed after years of neglect. They drove toward a shed tucked away amid a thin stand of timber. Its warped wooden walls looked as though they would have fallen years ago were it not for the net of lantana holding them up.
Taipan leaned out and opened the rickety paling door just enough to wheel the bike inside. He turned off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening after hours with the motor, the road and the wind.
'We'll spend the day and see if we get any visitors, eh,' Taipan said, glancing toward the sky.
Kevin slid off, hopped to the door and pushed it shut. He was in a shed big enough to house a tractor. Hessian bags hung across the gaps in the walls. He stayed at the door, propping himself against its flimsy support, waiting to see what Taipan was up to, the darkness lit only by the dusty beam of the bike's headlight.
The biker stepped off and stretched. Kevin held his breath. A distance of perhaps three steps separated them. If Taipan wanted to get rid of Kevin or simply take out his frustrations, then this was a good place to do it, here in this dilapidated, anonymous building. No-one would ever know. Taipan moved. Kevin steeled himself, but the biker stepped away to an obscure pile of stuff covered by a tarp. Kevin scanned for a weapon. A loft hung low at a crazy angle at the back, likely to collapse with the next dust cloud under its load of cobwebbed, nondescript machinery. Under the loft were a few musty hay bales, some drums and crates. Even if there was something Kevin could use, he had no hope of dodging the biker to get to it.
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