Blood & Dust

by Jason Nahrung

'Can she walk?' Kala asked, then said to his mother, 'How about I take that?'

  'Be careful, dear,' his mother said as she handed the weapon over. 'They aren't toys.'

  'She'll be all right,' Kevin said as he helped Meg to her feet. 'Let's get outta here.'

  Acacia hauled the sewing machine table in front of the door, then shared a glance with Kala. 'Window.'

  'Nailed shut,' Kala reported after giving it a shake.

  They smashed it with a chair and cleaned off the glass. Kala glanced out. 'Short drop. No-one out here, yet.'

  Shoulders rammed the door. Acacia fired three rounds into the timber.

  'You first,' Acacia told Kala.

  'I'll hand Meg to you,' Kevin said. 'That all right?'

  'Sure. Of course.' Kala clambered out and dropped to the ground. 'Pass her down.'

  With Meg deposited, he got his mother to the window. 'Kevin? I was worried about you. They asked about you, sometimes; but mostly they just did things. And gave me tea.'

  She frowned in confusion, as though cruelty and politeness should not go together, as though of all her unspoken trials, that was the thing that offended her the most.

  'You'll be all right, now, Mum. Jesus, what've they done to you?'

  'Blood bag,' Acacia answered. 'Get a move on, eh.'

  Automatic fire ripped through the door. He folded his mother under him as they huddled against the wall. Acacia returned fire and was rewarded with a shriek.

  'C'mon, Mum, we have to skedaddle, okay. Can you get through here?'

  'Hurry up!' Acacia glanced at Jasmine. Her hands were twitching. Acacia shot her again.

  Kevin's mother winced. 'It's very loud here, Kevin. Sometimes they come and they - they kiss me. Your father wouldn't like it. I don't like it.'

  'Get down there, Kevin,' Acacia told him. 'Kala's got her hands full; I'll pass your ma down.'

  'Sure. Don't worry, Mum. This will all be over soon.'

  He hopped down. Kala knelt nearby, keeping a nervous eye on the corners of the house. Meg leaned, dazed, against the wall.

  Shoulders thumped the door again. The sewing table screeched against the floor.

  'Pass her down,' Kevin said, reaching. Acacia stood by the window, trying to help his mother through.

  A raw tearing sound, the splintering of wood.

  Acacia swore and turned to face the door.

  A machinegun barked.

  Acacia toppled backward, half diving, half falling through the window, tearing down the curtain and nearly taking Kevin with her as she landed in a boneless heap.

  Kala shouted her name, but she didn't respond.

  Kevin jumped for the window, got his elbows over it, only to see two men in the doorway in black uniforms, silver flashes at their lapels, brutish snub-nosed guns in their hands. His mother huddled on the floor, hands over her head. He reached for her, one-handed and desperate. The jackals fired and he dropped back as timber splintered from the sill where he'd been hanging.

  He grabbed Acacia's pistol and got it pointed up in time as a man ducked out of the window, a gun poised. Kevin fired and the man spun away out of sight.

  'Mum!' he shouted, but there was no answer.

  'Go, go,' Acacia said, her words bubbling. Her chest was a mess of blood and cloth. 'Help me up, damn it.'

  'My mum-'

  'She's gone, boy, for now, and we will be, too, if we don't get our arses out of here. Out the front - get to Nigel's wagon.'

  'What's happening?' Kala yelled. She was firing a shot or two at a time to stop jackals from coming around the corner of the house.

  'Kevin?' Meg looked groggily at him.

  'Get her up,' Acacia shouted, and took her pistol off him. 'Let's roll.'

  'I can't leave!'

  'You have to.' Acacia grabbed him around the shoulders. 'Now help me. Across to that garage, first. Then we'll try for the Sandman. Run! And don't get shot!'

  Kevin supporting Acacia, Kala helping Meg, they crossed the house yard to the split-rail fence in a shambling three-legged race. Kala and Acacia snapped off shots to try to cover their flight.

  Earth spouted. Wood splintered. Rounds thudded into the garage on the other side of the fence.

  They scrambled through the rails, buzzed by bullets but unhurt as they huddled behind the thick timber.

  'That's a lot of open ground to cover,' Acacia said with a wave at the Sandman, so close but yet so far. 'Be nice if we could take that chopper instead; fly out in style.'

  'Could you fly it?'

  'I might be a bit rusty, but sure, I reckon. Kala, how we lookin'?'

  'Troopers are sneaking up; I got 'em staying shy but we won't last long here.'

  'How's the girl?'

  'I'm okay,' Meg said, her determination pushing up through the concussion.

  Back at the house, jackals hunched at the rear corner; others sniped from the window they'd fled from. Mira and Hunter and a squad of jackals in vests and helmets thundered on to the verandah.

  'We are completely screwed,' Kevin whispered.

  Acacia winked. 'Oh ye of little faith.'

  The lights went out.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Voices rose, sparked by the blackout. Then came the sound of a generator starting up, the chugging getting louder and more rhythmic. Lights flickered, glowed, blazed.

  'Something moving, out past the fence,' one of the jackals shouted.

  'About time,' Acacia muttered. 'But if he's brought Cassie with him, I'm gonna kick his arse from here to Cairns.'

  Kevin peered past the brightly lit mesh, and he saw what the jackal must've spotted - a speckled mass moving in the gloom.

  Quickly resolving into a herd of cattle.

  A stampede.

  'Bush tucker,' Kevin whispered.

  Two gunmen at the gate lowered their guns and ripped a series of bursts into the herd. Some animals dropped, some fled, but the main body stormed onward, a ram of flesh and bone that hit the gates like a Mack truck. The guards scuttled clear. The mesh held for a moment, and then the gate tore loose and crashed to the ground in two misshapen sections. The cattle scrambled over and around mangled carcasses as they streamed into the compound. Behind the bellowing and the gunfire came the sound of motors. The two guards at the gate collapsed inexplicably. Over the cacophony, Mira's shout: 'This is it, get to it, bring me that black bastard.'

  Bikes appeared among the tail end of the stampede, and then a Jeep with its lights out. Teams of two on the bikes, Mohawk and Lions among them, the pillions spraying bullets, and the Jeep lit up with muzzle flashes as though it was hung with Christmas lights.

  Hunter and a man in leather sprinted for the chopper.

  Acacia handed her pistol to Kevin. 'Cover me!' She ran after Hunter.

  Kala fired toward the house, working her way from one group of gunmen to the next.

  Kevin raised the handgun. He felt a strange shift inside of him, the inherent knowledge bequeathed by Taipan and Kala and even Mira guiding his instincts, on top of the few occasions he'd had to handle pistols. The first shot put a jackal down as Mira's troops spilled along the veranda rail and down along the front fence. Explosions thundered and flared as the jackals returned fire.

  'Damn it, they're coming, I can't hold them,' Kala said.

  Two jackals at the back of the house sprinted toward them, a big gap between them. Guns sparked from the window. Chips flew from the fence.

  'Back to the garage,' Kevin said, dropping one of the charging men. The other went to ground. 'Go!'

  Kala and Meg crabbed backward. Kevin's magazine clicked empty. He ran, chased by gunfire, and slid into shelter at the open doorway of the garage. His spirits lifted. The Jag!

  'Flat,' Kala said, kneeling at the corner, snapping off shots. 'Back tyre. Even if we could get it started.'

  And no sign of Meg's Suzi. Kevin checked for Acacia. He couldn't see her, but there were two mounds near the chopper.

  Taipan's attack had bogged down, a confused riot of gunfire a
nd cattle and vehicles.

  'Gimme the keys,' he told Kala. 'I'm going for plan B.'

  'You'll never make it.'

  'Oh ye of little faith.' He bolted, a mad zigzag. He was near the chopper when a bullet smacked his leg out from under him and he tumbled in the dirt.

  Part of the house exploded.

  Pieces of timber rattled down.

  The Jeep ploughed across the battlefield like a deadly turtle, covered in slabs of metal sheeting. The word "Ned" had been painted on the front. Taipan drove; someone Kevin didn't know manned a machinegun bolted to a mount on the roll cage, and Hippie hefted a bazooka. They'd dropped their gunmen off to spread out across the yard, finding what cover they could behind saplings and machinery, the bodies of dead cattle. The raiders were pouring fire into the house, scattering Mira's troops. Everyone had come, he thought. All of the Night Riders. Everyone but Danica herself and Cassie maybe.

  Hippie fired again and a section of fence erupted in flame and noise. Had he taken the bite, Kevin wondered? Was Hippie on the night shift now?

  By the dying glare of the explosion, he realised it was Hunter and the pilot on the ground nearby. The rotor was moving with painful slowness. That black cockatoo knew her stuff!

  He had a moment of indecision: back to the garage with Kala and Meg, or to the chopper, or to the Sandman? No gun meant he was useless to Kala; equally so with the chopper. But with the Sandman, he might run distraction; he might do more than simply wait to be airlifted out of this mess. Who knew - with the chopper putting down some serious kick arse, he might even be able to get to his mother. Stick to plan B; Kala and Meg were waiting for him.

  Keeping low, he staggered on, and managed to reach the Sandman without taking any more wounds. He spared a sorrowful look for the Monaro - if only he had the keys - but the panel van was more practical anyway.

  A revving engine caught his attention and he watched as Mohawk's motorcycle raced past the house. The pinion fired from the hip. Two jackals manning a machinegun fell under the barrage. The bike disappeared around the far corner, only to reappear shortly after, followed by an almighty explosion from behind the house. A mushroom of smoke rolled above the roof line; a drum arced high, trailing a streamer of smoke like a weird flare. The lights along the fence, on the chopper pad, at the house: all died. Darkness flooded the battlefield and this time there was no generator to resurrect the light.

  We're really gonna do this, Kevin thought as he reefed open the Sandman's door. They'd wipe out Mira's bunch and get his mum and drive home or even fly home and everything was gonna be just dandy. Somehow, everything was gonna work out okay.

  Making the most of the darkness and confusion, Taipan's men advanced toward the homestead. The remaining two bikes scribed misshapen helixes as they laid down fire. Kevin blinked away memories, loud and fear-stained, of the attack on the service station. Over the top, the whoosh of Hippie's bazooka blended with his memory of Molotovs exploding.

  He told himself to concentrate. To get into it. To do his bit.

  Kevin edged the Sandman forward, just in time to see one of Mira's jackals stand up by the thick lintel post at the gate. The man bowled, nice action, smooth. It was as if the guy was a sorcerer casting a spell, because no sooner had he finished his toss and ducked back behind cover than there was a blast of flame, and Lions' motorcycle was lifted and thrown. The rider and gunman were hurled in different directions. The motorcycle landed all out of shape, its front wheel in the air, turning pointlessly. The pinion hit the ground and didn't move.

  Two jackals ran out. One was shot down but the second reached Lions where he was trying to pick himself up out of the dirt. He turned in time to see the swing that severed his head from his neck.

  That started the hat-trick for Mira's team, and Kevin could only sit and watch in stunned despair as his team's attack was torn apart.

  Mohawk came roaring in. Timber flew from the gateposts as bullets ripped into it, but the bowler was hunkered down, fully defensive. A jackal rose from behind the carcass of a bullock and swung, a massive pull shot, blade flashing in the uncertain battlefield light. As neat as you please, he lifted Mohawk's head and knocked the pinion from the saddle. The bike drove on under the influence of the dead hand till it realised it was rudderless and spun out. The head bounced along behind. The jackal stabbed the injured pinion to death.

  A rocket flashed and the swordsman vanished in a blast of flame.

  The Jeep was still in action. Hippie loaded again as Taipan brought them in closer to the house.

  The bowler at the gate sent another delivery down. The Jeep jumped over a tongue of fire. Hippie tumbled clear and lay still. The vehicle trundled on, smoking from the nose, hit a crater and toppled sideways. A long green box bounced near Hippie's body and the lid flipped open, as though he'd brought his own miniature coffin. Taipan rose, groggy. He grabbed the tube Hippie had loaded and hefted it. The jackals opened up. He stood in the hail, valiant, an armourless Ned Kelly figure till finally the weight of lead bore him down. The rocket fired off, up and over the house, the explosion coming distant and wasted as Taipan lay in the wavering light of the burning Jeep, a huddled shape barely moving.

  The bowler shaped up once more to deliver the coup de grace, but there was a blowtorch whoosh and both he and the gate were reduced to nothing as the chopper evened the score.

  But Kevin knew the game was done. They were out of batsmen and there was nothing for it but to leave the field. The chopper was out of the question. The paddock was way too dangerous. Already Mira's men were fanning out, encircling the Jeep and advancing warily on the hovering chopper. Bullets sparked on its windshield and body. It wouldn't be able to take that punishment for long.

  He floored the Sandman, tyres spitting dirt as he carved around the windstorm where the chopper was advancing at little more than head height. It was up to him to get Kala and Meg to safety. It was up to him to save his mother.

  Shit!

  Mira stood silhouetted as the homestead burnt, pointing at the van, and men near her swung around.

  The chopper's guns stuttered, and streaks of light sped from the nodules on either side of the machine to scythe down Mira's jackals. The chopper rose higher, belched flame and smoke. A rocket blew the homestead's front steps to pieces. Had Acacia been aiming for Mira? Had she got the bitch?

  Fuck: his mum was still in the house.

  By the time he reached the garage, the van had been pinged; he had a bullet in his gut and cracks webbed the windshield. He all but fell out the door.

  'Acacia can't land for us,' he gasped to Kala. 'You'll have to drive. Drive like a fucking demon.'

  'What about you?'

  'I'm not leaving without Mum.'

  'There's a difference between suicide and bravery, y'know.'

  'She's my mum.'

  Kala gave him her pistol - 'You're down to maybe six, last mag' - and kissed him, pushed Meg in toward the passenger side as another burst of gunfire rocked the wagon. 'I'll wait at the silo till dawn. After that-'

  'The gorge,' he said. 'If not there, the gorge.'

  'Be at the silo,' she said.

  Meg reached for him. 'Kevin - aren't you coming, Kev?'

  'I can't. You have to go with Kala and be safe. I'll catch up soon as I can!'

  Kala slammed the door, gave him a desperate look, then accelerated away. One jackal, reeling out of the smoke and shock of a nearby rocket hit, got clipped by the van and was thrown aside with a heavy crunch. Acacia did what she could to keep the jackals' heads down. The vehicle swerved around a dead bullock. Bullets sparked on its rear doors, then it was clear of the gates and vanished into the night.

  Near the blazing jeep, Taipan staggered up and waved at the chopper. It hovered low, dust and smoke whirling in its vortices. A four-wheel-drive drove out from behind the house, a jackal firing from the passenger window. The chopper swung, fired a rocket that blew the vehicle to hell. Another rocket followed, hitting an outbuilding, and a third, throwing
up a geyser of earth and flame near the corner of the homestead.

  Taipan jumped, clung to the skid, and the chopper flew forward and began to climb.

  Mira jumped from the veranda and sprinted toward the Jeep.

  Kevin fired at her. Three shots and the pistol clicked empty. Mira kept running. He swore. No chance of getting to her in time, even if he wasn't wounded.

  Taipan dangled from the skid like a possum under a wire as the chopper flew toward the fence, its engine noise rising.

  Mira dug a tube from the green box thrown from the Jeep

  Even got us a splinter to stick in their eye in the sky

  and raised it to her shoulder and pointed it at the chopper. The tube belched fire. A swirling line of smoke traced the missile's path. The helicopter exploded. Once, twice. The second fireball engulfed the machine. Taipan vanished. Rotor blades speared off into the night. The wreck dropped like a cut elevator in a mass of flame and twisted metal.

  Kevin stared, unbelieving, and realised there were jackals, not many, but enough, spreading out from the house. A couple of people not in uniform were spraying garden hoses at the burning house. Mira stalked the battlefield, pointing with her distinctive sword and shrieking, 'Find them all. I want their blood. All of them.'

  Kevin sheltered by the garage wall.

  Jackals approached, checking bodies, shining torches. Some wore bulky goggles. He didn't think they'd seen him yet, but it was only a matter of time. He stripped and hid his clothes behind a stack of ceramic pots heaped along the inside wall of the garage, then dropped to the ground.

  Driven by desperation, Kevin called to the earth. Taipan's blood sang in his body, a didgeridoo wail; his heartbeat was measured by clap sticks. The voices of men were buried by the calls of birds, the crackle of flames, the sigh of wind and the groan of layers of ancient rock. Gritty warmth closed around him and he felt a moment of suffocation, of entrapment, but the didgeridoo played louder and the blood surged and the sounds faded to a gentle whisper of welcome and he was at peace in the dark embrace. Time stretched out behind him and ahead of him and through him. He felt Taipan inside of him, a phantom:

  You're going outside?