Blood Tears

by JD Nixon

  We didn’t have any luck until we reached the last room, a bedroom. Several Bycrafts banged on the door, looking over their shoulders at us in panic. The Sarge and I looked at each other. He nodded.

  “Get out! Get away!” I said, indiscriminately whacking Bycrafts left and right, as the Sarge muscled his way through them.

  The door remained closed, and presumably whoever was in there couldn’t hear the banging over the music. I put away my baton and drew my gun, the Sarge with his out as well.

  He tried the handle, but the door was locked. So he kicked at the door and as it was so flimsy, it splintered on the second kick. He shouldered his way through its remains.

  “Police!” he shouted.

  Red, startled, scrabbled up from the dirty mattress on the floor where we’d interrupted him humping his timid de facto, Sharnee, both of them completely naked. Sharnee, some fresh bruises already starting to show on her pale neck, screamed and reached for an equally dirty sheet to cover herself. Red, still fully erect, made a run for the window.

  I grabbed for him and he swung out at me with his fist. I ducked and his punch flew over the top of my head. The Sarge ran into him, forcing him against the wall. Though I couldn’t hear anything, there was no doubt that Red’s open mouth meant he was suffering immense pain from having his genitals squashed up hard against a wall.

  Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person.

  The Sarge held out a hand and I gave him my handcuffs. Red, desperate for survival and therefore dangerous, struggled underneath the Sarge’s hold, making it hard for him to secure the cuffs. With probably more force than required for the situation, I slammed my body on to Red’s, giving the Sarge enough space to cuff him.

  And though we were abused, kicked, punched, and had things thrown at us, I couldn’t stop smiling as we dragged a naked Red through his relatives.

  “Kill them,” he shouted at his relatives. “Kill them all.”

  “Shut up, Bycraft,” said the Sarge as we manhandled him to the patrol car, shoving him in the back seat to rejoin his brother.

  It was possibly one of the best moments of my life.

  An angry crowd surrounded the car, rocking it and smacking their palms on the windows.

  “We have to get out of here,” said the Sarge, honking the horn to clear a path for us.

  When that didn’t work, he sounded the siren and lights, but the angry Bycrafts wouldn’t shift, some of them climbing on the bonnet, banging on the windscreen.

  “Go,” I urged. “Run them over.”

  He inched the patrol car forward, forcing them to either get out of the way, or risk being hit.

  “I can’t believe how easy that was,” I said, still smiling. “They’re getting out of practice the longer they stay in jail.”

  “I wouldn’t gloat too soon, Tess. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet,” he said, his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror. “We’re being chased by a crowd.”

  I looked in my side mirror to see a bunch of Bycrafts sprinting after the patrol car, brandishing an assortment of weapons.

  “Speed up,” I advised, advice that he took.

  We soon out sped the Bycraft pack, but we couldn’t escape the vicious stream of invective issuing from the back seat.

  “Shut up in the back,” the Sarge shouted at them.

  “Go fuck yourself, copper,” shouted back an enraged Red. “And Tessie, when I get out again, I’m going to hurt you so bad for so long that you’ll wish you died tonight.”

  “Shut up, Bycraft,” warned the Sarge again.

  “You’re never getting out again after this little stunt, Red. You’ll be a whistling little jail bird until you die.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “He’s such a great conversationalist, isn’t he?” I said to the Sarge.

  He didn’t answer, pulling into the pub carpark.

  “Go get the others. All of them,” he ordered tersely.

  Hearing that tone, I didn’t hesitate, but threw open the door and sprinted upstairs. The doctor was just leaving Quentin’s room.

  “Is he okay to travel?” I asked him, not bothering with any niceties. “We’ve got to get them out of town urgently.”

  “I don’t think so,” the doctor started.

  “Too bad for him,” I said, banging on the second door.

  Arapeta poked his head out, and I was glad to see he was dressed in his uniform again.

  “Time to move out. Double time. We’ve got the other two waiting downstairs.”

  I gave him kudos for not double-guessing or questioning what I asked, but gathering his wards and their baggage, all of which was packed ready to go.

  I tried to drag Quentin to his feet, but he was a big lunk of a man and too heavy for me. The doctor stood by disapprovingly, not offering to help. I was just about to seek out Abe, when that wonderful man appeared out of nowhere.

  “Help me get him down the stairs. These people need to get out of here.”

  Again, I thanked the heavens for a man who didn’t waste time asking annoying questions. He moved to one side of Quentin, and with me on the other, we managed to get the still-drowsy man on to his feet.

  “I don’t recommend this, Tess.”

  “Doc, I’m sorry, but we don’t have a choice. The Bycrafts are ready to erupt if we don’t get these men out of town as soon as possible.”

  He sighed. “If we don’t have a choice, make sure he’s kept upright. We don’t want him choking on vomit or his tongue or anything.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, and with a great deal of difficulty, Abe and I guided him down the stairs and to the van, propping him up in the passenger seat.

  By then Arapeta and the Sarge had managed to get three of the prisoners into their compartments, after Arapeta insisted on searching Karl thoroughly.

  “We don’t have time for that,” the Sarge insisted.

  “You’re not the one who has to get him out at the other end, mate,” Arapeta said tersely. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m not that keen on being shanked.”

  “Hurry up about it then.” I could tell by the Sarge’s snappy tone that he was stressed. “We still have to get Red in the van.”

  When the Sarge and I pulled a fiercely struggling Red from the back seat, trying to dodge his spit, the only weapon he currently possessed, Arapeta shook his head and took a stubborn stance, his legs apart, arms crossed.

  “Nope. No way. He’s not getting in the van like that.”

  “Put him in the van and get moving,” the Sarge through gritted teeth.

  “Not happening.”

  “Put him in the fucking van. Now!”

  In the distance we could hear the loud rumble of approaching voices.

  “Fucking hell,” snarled the Sarge and grabbed Red, virtually tossing him in the last compartment, slamming the door on him. “Now get driving.”

  Finally noticing the approaching rabble himself, Arapeta gave the Sarge a hard last stare, and strode over to hop up into the driver’s seat.

  “Tess, get in,” said the Sarge. “We’ll escort them out of town.”

  “What do you think’s going to happen?”

  “God only knows. I just feel like it’s going to get ugly unless we get these guys out of town. Then hopefully, they’ll realise it’s pointless to fight it anymore, and give up and go back to their party. I mean, it’s not as if they have huge attention spans, so I’m hoping they’ll get bored of the whole thing pretty quickly.”

  We’d just driven out of the carpark, following the van instead of being in front like a usual police escort, when the mob of Bycrafts came running down the highway.

  “Geez, they must be insane. Do they think they’re going to chase the van all the way to Big Town?” I asked, checking the side mirror.

  “I’m not sure there’s much thinking going on in that family tonight.”

  We followed the prison van until even the most tenacious of the Bycrafts gave up. Even then we escorted it un
til it reached the turnoff to Wattling Bay. The Sarge honked the horn, received a wave in reply, and spun around back to Little Town.

  “I’m glad they’re gone,” he said. “Now hopefully things will quieten down.”

  “It was pretty funny though, wasn’t it? Springing Red like that, and taking him into custody naked.”

  “Can’t say my favourite pastime is grappling with naked guys,” he smiled.

  “At least that officer didn’t have to search him this time.”

  We both laughed about that, but it was the last laugh we shared for a long while.

  As we passed the pub, we noticed at the same time. The Sarge turned into the carpark at the last second, the tyres squealing in complaint.

  “Oh, shit,” he said, screeching to a halt.

  I jumped out of the car and ran over to Abe, who surveyed the damage with a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anger on his face.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “As soon as you left, I closed the doors, but they attacked them. With anything they could lay their hands on.”

  The glass double entry doors and the large glass picture windows either side of them, both that gave the pub’s foyer such an airy, light feel, had been shattered.

  “Luckily it’s safety glass and hasn’t broken into a million shards,” he said, almost robotically.

  “What did they use?” asked the Sarge.

  Abe gave a humourless laugh. “What didn’t they use? Look around. It’s all still here. They ripped up the tables and chairs from outside, the bins, some of the logs from the fence. It was a mob – like a mindless mob. Poor Romi and Toni are upstairs crying and scared out of their brains. My staff are huddled in the lounge bar. Some of them are crying too. It’s a miracle they didn’t make it inside.”

  “Do you know where they went?” I asked.

  “No idea.” He looked over our shoulders and pointed. “But that might give you a clue.”

  We turned to see a plume of white smoke spiralling into the air. Without even saying goodbye to Abe, we ran to the car and followed the smoke.

  The Sarge sat silent when we pulled up in front of a burning building.

  I managed a quiet, “Oh.”

  The police station was on fire.

  Chapter 36

  “Call the captain of the Rural Fire Brigade,” ordered the Sarge.

  I rang, but he didn’t answer his phone and I was forced to leave a message.

  “Who else is in the Brigade?” he asked.

  “Um, Abe is, but he’s a little occupied at the moment.”

  “Who else?”

  “Gerry.” I rang him only to speak to his wife for a few moments. Hanging up I said to the Sarge, “He’s a no go. According to Valmae, he’s in bed with man flu.”

  “Who else?”

  “Dave is.”

  We looked at each other.

  “Should we?” he asked.

  “Do we have a choice?”

  “No, but I don’t know if it’s any use. Look how fast it’s burning.”

  “Old timber. And we haven’t had any rain for ages. But we can’t just let it burn down.”

  Before I could ring Dave though, a small explosion sounded from behind the station, and a loud cheer rose.

  “They’re still here,” the Sarge said.

  “Sounds like they just set fire to the lockup.”

  “Come on, before they decide to do my house too.”

  We stepped out of the patrol car warily, not knowing how many people we’d be facing. They came spilling around either side of the burning station, laughing and still cheering. It looked like the entire family – far too many for the Sarge and me to cope with by ourselves.

  “You won’t be locking us up anymore, you fucking pigs,” slurred a very drunken Rosie.

  The Sarge made a valiant attempt. “Get on home, all of you, now,” he yelled. “Or you’ll find yourselves in the Big Town watch house.”

  They laughed at him.

  “How you going to get us there, copper?” yelled Lola, clearly having a great old time, never mind the fact that she’d buried one of her sons earlier today. She did a dramatic turn of her head from one side to the other. “Can’t see no backups for you two pieces of dog shit.”

  “Yeah, and by the time any other pigs get here, we’ll have burnt all this cop shit down, fucking pigs,” shouted an exhilarant Rick.

  They swarmed nearer to us.

  “Maybe we should burn them too,” yelled one of them from the back – Mark?

  “Piglet whore first,” said Rick, a decision greeted with a resounding roar of approval by his relatives.

  “Burn her at the stake,” laughed another – one of the teens.

  “Get back in the car, Tess,” the Sarge demanded in a low voice. “It’s not safe. We need to be able to get away.”

  Perhaps it was shock, but I stood there, almost hypnotised by the flames destroying the building I’d worked in for years, the building that had stood there my entire life.

  “But all those presents you bought me are in there. They’re all being burnt,” I said, unbelievably sad at the thought. “Can’t we save them? Let me go and get them.”

  “I’ll buy you more, Tessie. I promise. I’ll buy you a million more. But please, just get in the car now. Please.”

  When I didn’t move, he grabbed me by the arm and shoved me in the passenger seat. I fell on it inelegantly, arms and legs everywhere. He started the car and reversed it to a safer place, but still in view of the mob.

  The Bycrafts kept advancing, but stopped when they got to my Land Rover.

  “No,” I said, knowing that whatever I said was pointless. They would do whatever they wanted, just as they had since the town started. “That’s my car.”

  I didn’t know what they were using as an incendiary, but it was powerful stuff. We watched helplessly as my precious set of wheels – no matter that it was decrepit, vandalised, and ancient – exploded in a ball of flames. Someone let out a groan of anguish, and it was only later that I realised it was me.

  “Tess, we have to save the police house,” the Sarge said, but it sounded as if he was a million miles away from me.

  I sat watching my 4WD burning, my hand up to my mouth, tears in my eyes. How was I going to get around now? How could I take Dad to Big Town for his treatments and doctor visits?

  “I’m ringing the Super,” he said, pulling out his phone, jabbing in her number. “This is a nightmare. We can’t deal with this ourselves.”

  While he hurriedly and urgently detailed our present predicament to the Super, I sat dully witnessing that gloating, arrogant, repulsive family once again destroying something of mine. Red rage flowed through me, and snapped me out of my fugue. I leaned over to unlock the door. I decided that tonight I would deal with a few of them permanently.

  The Sarge must have sensed my mood, because he grabbed my hand in his and kept me in my seat. I pulled at it, shooting him a vexed look, but he just held on tighter.

  “The Super wants to talk to you.”

  “Let go of me. I’ve got some heads to crack open and some people to shoot. They’re going to pay for killing my car,” I hissed at him, yanking at my hand and reaching for the door handle again.

  He hauled me back towards him so violently that I virtually ended up lying across his lap.

  “I have to go,” he said into the phone. “She’s going to do something stupid.”

  “Let go of me,” I demanded, righting myself, tugging at my hand again.

  We glared at each other.

  “Tess. We need to stick together. I can’t deal with this by myself if you go off to be a vigilante. I need your help. Please.”

  I remembered how I’d told him that we were a team; that we were partners. We shared a long look, trying to read each other’s eyes and faces.

  “Okay. I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I’ll let it go for now.”

  “That’s all I’m asking, but I know it’s a lot. The Super�
��s sending uniforms.”

  I took a deep breath. “They’ll take forever to get here. What do we do until then?”

  “Try to keep them away from the police house.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m a good shot.”

  “Tess,” he said with affectionate exasperation, patting my knee a few times. “I know you are, but unfortunately that’s not what we’re doing.” He picked up his phone again. “I’m going to ring Dave. Get him to organise the Brigade. It’s too late for station, but I have the feeling it’s not going to be the last of their drunken arson spree.”

  The entertainment of my burning Land Rover had diminished for the smashed mob, and a few started heading for the police house.

  Garth Bycraft, shirtless and shining with sweat, came running down the road then, only to come to a screeching stop when he saw the burning station.

  “Woo hoo! Look at them flames go!” he exalted. “Hey, everyone, let’s go burn down the school too.”

  It made sense to me that he’d suggest that because he’d previously done time for vandalising the primary school. He obviously hadn’t enjoyed his school days much. And judging by his almost complete illiteracy, struggling to even spell his own name, I’d bet his teachers hadn’t enjoyed his school days much either.”

  “Let’s burn down the whole fucking town,” shouted someone from the crowd, evoking another rousing cheer.

  Almost as one, the mob turned and ran after Garth towards the primary school.

  “Sarge,” I said urgently. “We have to get there before them. Young Kenny sleeps there most nights.”

  “Shit.”

  He didn’t waste time waiting for me to buckle up, but sped off, honking his horn to clear a path on the road through the drunken rioters. A hail of rocks, picked up from the side of the road, rained down on the patrol car, something even heavier landing on the boot with a heavy thud.

  “Hope this car makes it safely through the night, or we’re really fucked,” said a tense Sarge, his hands gripping the steering wheel.