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by Ron Elliott

  He was feeling expansive. Perhaps he was gloating, or maybe it was his egotistical form of foreplay. Along the wall was the sash-window with no glass.

  ‘Ever read the story in the Bible about Job? Its message is that, no matter how many trials you are put through, if you keep your faith, you will be rewarded. Is that what you believe, Helen?’

  She didn’t answer. She moved a step along the wall as though settling her weight. She thought, keep talking you motherfucker. She watched him, vaguely aware that it was the first time in her life she had even imagined the word motherfucker.

  ‘The devil gets God to do these awful things.’ He did the accents. ‘Who’s ya best man, God? Bet ya ya can’t torture him to death.’ Jack Nicholson? ‘Oh, yeah. Just watch. Gdah. Gdah.’ Goofy. ‘I love that story.’

  ‘And which one do you think you are?’ Helen took a defiant step towards him as she spoke, but she also took a step towards the other end of the room. There were mostly full boards that way, one small jump. She felt blood dribbling down her leg but wouldn’t look.

  ‘I’m sure not Job. I’ll tell you why I do it, Helen. It makes me hornier than hell.’ He started to undo his shirt.

  If she could get him to undo his pants, she could run, maybe. She put her hands on her hips, even more defiant, taking another half step, slightly back. She said, ‘I think you like to hear yourself. I think you’re a legend in your own lunchtime.’

  He winced. Didn’t like it. But then he smiled again. ‘Tell you what, if you’re really really nice to me, maybe I’ll let you go.’ He was lying. Not even trying to hide it.

  Helen wasn’t close enough to the window yet.

  Then Daniel called out. ‘Helen?’

  He wasn’t in the doorway but Blyte turned towards it and stepped back.

  Helen ran for the sash-window screaming, ‘Daniel!’

  Daniel heard her. She was above, on the third floor.

  Helen ran along the veranda, dodging more holes on her way to the door at the end. It was locked. She turned.

  Blyte was walking, unhurried, watching where he put his feet.

  Helen stepped to the edge, and onto a rotten board. Her foot went through and she tried to turn to see Blyte, but her foot became stuck under another floorboard.

  Blyte kept coming. ‘This place is a deathtrap really.’

  ‘Hey, you there!’

  Helen looked down to see a policeman in the yard below.

  She yelled, ‘Help me. He’s crazy.’

  Blyte stepped away from the edge of the veranda.

  The policeman yelled, ‘Now Mr Longo, there’s no need for anything silly. We want to talk.’

  Helen yelled, at the top of her voice, ‘Amis Blyte. It’s not Daniel. It’s Amis Blyte.’

  He was gone.

  Daniel could hear Helen’s voice yelling on the other side of the door to the top veranda. He tried the handle but it was stuck again. He bumped his good shoulder into it and it swung out. Helen stood there. Her foot was stuck and she had blood all over her skirt.

  Down the steps. Button the shirt. A baby cop waiting. ‘It’s all right, Mr Longo. No problems. Your wife’s sister sent us. To make sure you’re all right.’ His hand reaching back. Taser? Gun?

  Amis looks frightened. ‘He’s upstairs. He’s got a weapon.’ Keeps on down the stairs.

  The cop isn’t sure. He backs away from Amis. Draws his pistol.

  Amis says, ‘He’s got the woman. His wife.’ Amis needs the gun. Sees the bits of wood in the centre of the room. Broken floorboards. ‘I think he’s going to hurt her.’

  The cop looks up suddenly, aiming his gun.

  Daniel’s voice. ‘Amis Blyte.’

  Amis grabs the piece of wood and cracks it down onto the young idiot’s head.

  Daniel yelled again, ‘Amis.’

  The man swung around after hitting the policeman and Daniel recognised him. He was the orderly in the hospital. He smiled and said, ‘Danny. Am I glad to see you. You’re just in time.’ He looked down at the groaning cop.

  Daniel had the chisel by his side as he stood in the middle of the upstairs landing.

  Blyte raised the wood again over the policeman.

  Daniel hit down on the rope with the chisel. It frayed but held. He stabbed at it again and the rosette hurtled down for the second time crashing onto Blyte.

  ***

  Helen sat on a milk crate in the corner while one of the ambos put a butterfly bandage on her cut leg. They thought she’d need a couple of stitches.

  Helen had already called Leonie. Until her sister had assured her, Helen’s greatest fear was Blyte’s threat about the kids. They were fine. In fact Leonie was concerned about betraying Daniel by sending the police to the old pub. It had probably saved their lives.

  After that, Helen just felt empty. She watched the ambos take away the hurt policeman on a stretcher. Then Blyte’s body was loaded onto another gurney.

  The detective from the factory fire questioned Daniel. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Amis Blyte,’ said Daniel.

  ‘What’s the story?’

  Daniel clouded, searched the room, blinked.

  Helen called, ‘There isn’t one.’

  ‘No. Why’d he go after you people?’

  Helen said, ‘No reason.’

  He looked from Amis to Helen, doubtful. He looked to Daniel. ‘But that makes no sense.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t, does it,’ said Daniel.

  ***

  They held the wedding ceremony by Brian’s hospital bed the day before Christmas. Brian was weak but tried to be upbeat. Rosemarie was dressed in her beautiful white wedding gown.

  The minister said, ‘To have and to hold.’

  Brian said, ‘But not too tightly.’

  Daniel had the ring. Brian had forgiven him once he heard that Blyte was real.

  The minister said, ‘From this day forth; for better or worse; for richer for poorer.’

  Brian intoned, ‘Poorer.’

  Daniel looked back to find Helen with the kids. He smiled but she looked away again. She’d been distant since the hotel.

  The minister said, ‘In sickness and...’

  ‘That’s me,’ said Brian.

  And the minister said, ‘Brian, you’re not taking this seriously.’

  Rosemarie said, ‘He will.’

  Brian said, ‘I do, I do.’

  It was a strange wedding, as though they had washed up on shore after a shipwreck.

  ***

  Frances was having trouble settling. She lay on her back in bed with the sheet pulled up to her nose but her eyes shone with the expectation. ‘Can I see him?’

  Helen said, ‘You can listen for his reindeer landing on our roof.’

  ‘He’ll wait till you’re asleep,’ said Daniel.

  He edged past Helen and kissed Frances. ‘I love you.’ She nodded, closing her eyes. Of course.

  He turned to smile at Helen, but she had already turned away, heading to Sam’s room.

  Sam was pretending to be asleep. The puppy’s face poked out from under his sheet. They’d named the dog Nemo which of course they’d had to explain to Daniel was a famous fish. ‘Fish?’ he’d said. The kids loved it when he didn’t know things.

  ***

  Helen went down to do the presents. It had been a pretty crazy lead-up to Christmas, she thought and smiled at the mundane understatement. And it wasn’t over.

  The tree twinkled. Daniel had finally put up a couple of the Christmas decorations. It was a big tree. They’d put presents under the tree, the ones Frances had seen Daniel buy. ‘See, these are those presents, but he’ll bring more.’ The white tip of an eagle’s wing poked out of the wrapping paper. The kids had not had time to paint the bird’s feathers. In truth, Helen had not had time to help them. They’d promise Daddy to paint them later, on Boxing Day.

  Daniel came into the room and sat on the couch trying to catch her eye. Helen went past him and got the bags of presents where she’
d hidden them in the pantry. When she came back, Daniel got one of the kids’ stockings and held it open for her to put presents in.

  He said, ‘He’s gone now, Helen.’

  She took the full stocking and put it under the tree. But it wasn’t over.

  When she turned back, he had the next stocking open and ready.

  Helen stayed by the tree. She was still angry with him. The targeting was not the point, she realised. It was a thing they’d gotten through but now they were back where they started. Only now their old niggling problems were laid bare. She said, ‘When there’s a war, you need warriors.’

  He nodded but with his half a shrug.

  ‘But, when there’s not ... the warriors and hunters – have to learn to be something else.’

  He sat on the couch trying to think it through. He looked up finally and said, ‘What?’

  He made her smile. She said, ‘I’m still trying to work that out.’

  The voice came from outside the room. ‘It was the night before Christmas.’ Amis Blyte.

  ‘Mummy!’ Frances.

  Daniel reached the door first.

  ‘He came in my window.’

  Daniel strode towards the stairs. ‘Let her go.’

  Blyte raised the knife.

  Daniel froze.

  Blyte smiled and said, ‘All was quiet in the house. No one was stirring, not even a mouse.’

  Daniel said, ‘Let them go. Let them go, and I’ll do what you want.’

  Frances was annoyed but not frightened. Blyte had her by the elbow in the way he’d held Helen at the old hotel.

  Blyte said, ‘Helen. Go into the kitchen and turn on the gas. I want you both to know that you can save yourselves at any time. Just run out the door.’

  Helen started for the kitchen.

  Frances called, ‘Mum!’

  ‘I’m coming back, bloss.’

  Blyte said, ‘She’s coming back. She always comes back.’

  Daniel said, ‘Let the kids go. Please, let the kids go.’

  ‘Please. I like that. Maybe I will Danilo. Danny boy. Maybe I won’t.’

  Helen went to her bag. Her mobile was missing. She picked up the landline. It was dead.

  ‘Go into the lounge room and turn on the heater gas,’ Blyte ordered Daniel.

  Helen turned the stove gas on, as she’d been ordered, then looked to the knife rack. One of the knives was missing, the one he held near Frances’s throat.

  She heard him talking to Daniel, ‘Now pull out that rubber pipe. Pull harder.’

  Gas hissed like a dying sigh.

  Frances called, ‘Daddy!’

  Helen ran into the hall nearly colliding with Daniel as he came from the lounge.

  Frances and Blyte were gone.

  Helen yelled, ‘I’m coming Frances. I’m coming.’ She looked at the kitchen knife in her hand then to Daniel, but he was running out the front door.

  Past Little Bloss’s bedroom to the boy’s room. Empty? Maybe not. Later. To the Royal Chamber. Little Bloss squirms.

  ‘Frances. Stop that now.’ She stops. Good girl. He pushes her to the other side of the bed.

  Plans for this bed. Amis lifts Helen’s nightgown from on top of the bed. He feels the material, slippery like an excited woman. He brings Teddy’s lighter out. Click. Whoosh.

  ‘Do you like fire?’

  She won’t answer, but she’s already fixated with the way the nightgown drips molten flames onto the bedspread.

  ‘I do,’ says Amis. ‘Fire is pretty.’ He drops the burning gown before the flames reach his hands.

  Pushes her to the wall and opens the walk-in. Lots of pretty dresses. That African thing with the colours. Amis back to feed them to the fire. Helen is in the doorway, panting again. Angry. Good.

  ‘Hope you got fire cover, little lady.’

  It pisses her off when he gets referential like the Joker in Batman. Her eyes go distant, her lips tight, just for an instant. Ha.

  He pushes the girl back to stop her running to her mother and feeds the dresses to the fire. It’s a sluggish flame. Needs to catch the varnish and glue of the bed. Around twenty-seven seconds according to a video. ‘The modern home is so full of chemicals and plastics that the ignition point is quite low, the fuel load very high.’

  The fire alarm in the hall starts a shrill beeping squawk. The smoke has raced along the ceiling searching for air vents.

  Helen hovers. She’s wearing shorts, showing lots of smooth tanned leg. There’s a bandage high on her inner thigh.

  ‘How’s your leg?’

  The lights go out. Everything. Amis can see though by the blue-green glow of nylon burning. Daniel with another plan. The Eveready Bunny tat-tatting his little drum.

  The fire alarm keeps squawling. Batteries, see.

  ‘Mummy, I’m frightened.’ Finally.

  ‘We can’t stop the fire now. Let her go.’ Finally, they are scared. Helen’s hair is flat. It’s lost its usual bounce and lustre.

  ‘Can’t do that, Helen. I need her.’ He waves the carving knife in the air so it catches the firelight. The smoke is getting acrid. Thick black stuff. He pushes the girl in front of him. Gestures for Helen to back up.

  Amis needs the boy too. Calls up the hall, ‘Daniel, I’ve still got Frances. No jumping out.’

  They shuffle along to the boy’s room. It is dark. He’d like the boy too. With the boy and the girl, he can ask Daniel to kill himself and watch Helen watch.

  ‘Sharon is talking to the police, Helen.’ Reproach.

  He pushes the girl into the boy’s room. He lights a kite suspended from the ceiling. It becomes yellow light like a flare. Lots of paper and books. He lights a drawing on the wall and it races up to a noticeboard, licking the ceiling. More paper on the boy’s desk. His window is open, the wind puffing curtains. He might have gotten out but he’s allowed lots of good oxygen to feed the fire. A curtain catches. A green snake writhes up, to turn orange at the ceiling where it escapes into the airconditioning vent.

  ‘Light to work by.’

  ‘Samuel!’ Helen, afraid.

  Another fire alarm starts beeping on the stairs. Out of synch. One squawks and the other beeps. The house is alarmed. The house feels the fire flooding through its ceilings, taking short cuts to the wood and paint.

  Amis calls, ‘Sam, dude. Fire, fire.’ It is big and yellow on the desk.

  The puppy yaps. A teeny bark from the cupboard. Good dog.

  She bites his hand. The girl bites sharp and he lets go. Amis turns with his knife to stab her. He could get her leg. But Helen steps towards him. He has to look at her. She’s got a knife too. Small. The girl scrambles.

  Amis could still get them. Step up stabbing into Helen’s belly, deep and then down on the little one’s back. But he has the boy.

  He grabs the cupboard handle again. ‘Sam, join the party!’

  He opens the door. A big blur. Pain in his nose, eyes watering. Daniel stepped out of the cupboard as soon as he’d punched Blyte. The man stood stunned but not clear against the yellow and orange fire burning on the other side of the room. Daniel bent to grab Sam’s cricket bat.

  Blyte stabbed him, in the side.

  It was sharp brief pain like ice. He turned back to see Helen step in and swing down into Blyte’s back.

  Daniel yelled, ‘Sam, get out.’

  Helen plucked her arm back and he saw she had a knife. Blyte began to turn towards her.

  Daniel brought the cricket bat down on his collarbone. He heard it crack, but Blyte still stood. Black smoke filled the top of the bedroom pushing down towards them.

  Sam was out from under the bed. Blyte had seen him.

  Helen stepped to Blyte again stabbing him in the side.

  Daniel yelled, ‘Helen, get the kids out.’

  ‘Nemo!’ yelled Sam, trying to push past Blyte, but the man reached out towards Sam’s arm.

  Daniel swung up with the cricket bat connecting with Blyte’s jaw and he finally went down.

/>   Samuel fell on top of him and then crawled to the cupboard where he found the puppy. Frances stood aghast by the door. Fire alarms were screeching all through the house. Something exploded wetly in the master bedroom. Glass things were cracking.

  ‘Helen, let’s go!’

  Daniel pushed Sam out and he grabbed up Frances and ran for the stairs. The main bedroom had caught in the roof and embers were already falling in the upstairs hall. Greenish flames were running along the edges of the carpet. Black smoke nudged aside the grey. Daniel had turned off the gas as well as the power, but the house was flaring and whooshing and feeding on itself. It growled.

  He ran with Frances, Samuel running with the puppy. Sam opened the front door, bringing a sore gasp of cool air. Then they felt the heat surge behind them, the fire suddenly hotter with the new oxygen source. People were on the lawn, more neighbours coming. Someone had a garden hose but didn’t seem to know where to point it.

  Daniel took big gulps of clean air.

  Sam said, ‘Mum! Where’s Mum?’

  Daniel looked behind. Helen wasn’t there.

  He got her on one of her kicks. Grabbed her leg and pinned it to his stomach. Ha ha.

  Smoke not bad on the floor. Cool. She gags. He’d pull her down. His right arm aches. No power. Pull her down and not let go and they can drown in the fire. Spit the blood out to breathe. He feels a blow. His face numb now. She’d got him with something.

  He wriggles his fingers. She isn’t there. Another hit. Ha. Doesn’t hurt. Like the boarding school. Ha ha, don’t hurt. He’ll have to hurt Sharon. But not too much. Bring her back. To order. Whack. Trent knows. Rebuild the family. Dull thuds somewhere. Maybe he will die. No. Just rest.

  She had the cricket bat and she pounded down on Blyte’s body making blood. She needed him gone. She needed to be sure. She was coughing, choking up a salivary lava, but she wouldn’t stop until she had made certain that he would not come near her children again. She raised the cricket bat, but couldn’t bring it down.

  Daniel had the bat. He tossed it onto Samuel’s burning bed, bright yellow-white through the thick smoke. He took her hand and pulled at her, as though they were heading out towards a dance floor.

  Her clothes were smouldering. In the hall, the flames were running all the way up the walls to the ceiling and flaring out like orange island flowers. Daniel led her gently, her legs wobbly. Her hair smoked. The fire alarm over the stairs gurgled into silence and she looked up to see it melted white amidst orange. There were little dots of blue flame in the lounge and some green on a picture frame. The heat was burning her eyebrows. It was somehow watery. He pulled her down the stairs. It was like they were on a boat, going to the ball. He pushed her out into the cold air that tore into her lungs and made her double up and cough until she vomited.