Billy

by Donna Joy Usher

  I nodded. It had been Nick’s idea. There was only so long Martine’s threat of a sponge bath was going to keep Big Bad Ben silent for once we were gone. ‘That ought to do it. See you soon.’ I picked up the large bag I had placed by the front door and left.

  It was eight in the morning when I arrived at work. The night and day shift were swapping over and the usual chaos ensued. I waved at the clerk on the front desk and slipped out the back.

  ‘Chanel,’ Riley called. ‘How the heck are ya?’

  ‘Good thanks, Riley.’ I pasted a smile on my face. I liked Riley but he was a real have-a-chat, which is not what I needed right now. I needed to be in and out with the minimum number of people marking me.

  ‘Riley, you done with your report?’ His partner, Wayne, waved at me.

  I took advantage of the diversion and darted off to the women’s change rooms. It didn’t take me long to put three bullet-proof vests into my bag. I grabbed a couple of extra sets of hand cuffs and some cans of pepper spray, before heading to the gun locker room.

  It only took me a minute to load my gun and some ammunition into my bag, but it was the longest minute of my life. If somebody saw me it would be game over before we had even begun.

  I eyed off the Tasers. I hadn’t been accredited in their use yet. Ramy hadn’t thought it necessary. I took a deep breath and shoved one into my bag. Taking a Taser was small change compared to taking my gun.

  Most of the day shift were hanging around the coffee machine swapping stories as they prepared their first caffeine hit.

  Wayne looked up as I passed but there was no suspicion in his eyes as I returned his previous wave.

  I breezed out of The Station, up the stairs, around to the car park, into my car and home within five minutes. It wasn’t till I was sheltered by the darkness of the underground car park that I let my nerves have their moment.

  I leaned my head against the steering wheel as my palms sweated and my body shook.

  What I was doing was illegal. I had already acknowledged to myself that I wasn’t going to get away with it like the last time I’d taken my gun from work.

  Trent wasn’t going to be there to save my arse this time, which meant that that was probably the last time I was going to enter The Station as an employee. The next time I would likely be in cuffs.

  I had acknowledged and accepted it. It was a small price to pay for Billy’s life. And, well, if that didn’t pan out the way I was hoping it would, I didn’t really care what happened to me.

  I wasn’t happy about dragging Nick and Martine with me, but they weren’t going to be the one with the illegally-used firearm, so they would both walk away. If we lived through it.

  My body shook some more. This was craziness. What we were planning was totally nuts. But I couldn’t see any other option. I had tried and failed with Trent. There was going to be no police back up. No knight on a white horse to save us. But if we didn’t at least try, Billy would die for sure.

  Tears trembled on my lashes and then cascaded down my face. If I knew one thing, it was that sitting back and allowing that to happen was something I could not live with. He was too important to me.

  I stayed in the car for the ten minutes it took me to regain control, then I walked up the stairs to Martine’s apartment.

  Cocoa was there with Nick and Martine. I was glad Bruce hadn’t come to pick up Cocoa yet, I wanted to have a proper goodbye with my little fur ball.

  I picked him up and hugged him to my chest. He nestled into me, curling into a ball so he could tuck his head in under mine. I breathed in his doggy scent and kissed him on the head. I didn’t know when I would get to see him again.

  ‘Why do you look so melancholy?’ Nick still looked like himself.

  ‘Oh, you know.’ I shrugged. ‘Just preparing for the worst.’

  ‘Don’t even think that way.’ He swung back around in the chair so Martine could keep working. ‘You don’t want to be putting that sort of energy out there.’

  ‘He’s right.’ Martine bent and peered at Nick’s face. She picked up a smaller brush and tickled the end of it into some makeup. ‘We need to be thinking positive thoughts.’

  ‘Positive, schmositive.’ I put Cocoa on the lounge and walked over to examine the contents of Martine’s freezer. Bingo. Another tub of Ben and Jerry was nestled in the back.

  I pulled it out and grabbed a spoon from the drawer. I doubted very much there would be Ben and Jerry’s in jail. I would be lucky to get plain vanilla. And that was if the other inmates didn’t steal my ice cream. Being a cop was going to severely limit my friend options. They’d probably have to stick me into solitary confinement.

  There was a knock on the front door. I carried the tub of ice cream with me as I went to answer it.

  ‘Hello,’ I called out. I didn’t want a repeat of last night’s performance.

  ‘It’s Bruce.’

  Was it really Bruce, or was it someone pretending to be Bruce?

  Cocoa let out a woof and jumped off the lounge. That was good enough for me.

  I pulled open the door. ‘Want some?’ I held the tub out towards him.

  ‘Ahhhh.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I normally save my ice cream eating till after twelve.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ I shrugged and stood back to let him in. It would have been nice to be able to be picky about when I was going to get to eat ice cream.

  Bruce eyed me up and down before heading over to Martine. ‘What’s with her?’ Bruce pointed in my direction.

  ‘She’s gone all defeatist on us. The sugar should kick in soon,’ Martine said.

  I ladled more ice cream into my mouth and slumped onto the couch next to Cocoa. He snuggled against me, looking up at the ice-cream tub hopefully.

  To be honest, I was starting to feel better as the sugar surged into my system. It just went to show what I’d always believed – Ice cream could solve anything.

  As I made my way through the tub, Nick morphed into a short, ugly woman.

  ‘What do you think?’ He spun on the spot with his arms held out.

  ‘You’re still short.’ I smiled. ‘But you’ll do. Here.’ I reached into my bag and pulled out the vests. ‘This is the smallest one I could get.’ I held it out to ‘Nicole’. ‘And this was the largest.’ That one was for Martine.

  ‘I do say,’ Bruce said, ‘you’re taking being turned into a woman far better than I had expected.’

  ‘You wouldn’t get it.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘There are going to be hundreds of women, running through mud and getting their T-shirts all wet and dirty. What male would not do whatever it took to get amongst that?’

  ‘You’re right.’ Bruce let out a melodramatic sigh. ‘I don’t get it.’

  I looked at my watch. It was a quarter-past nine. It would take us a good half hour to get to the Randwick Racecourse. We needed to be out of there in the next fifteen minutes.

  I helped Martine into her vest then dug around in the kitchen drawers till I found a Ziploc bag big enough for my gun.

  ‘What?’ Bruce eyed off my wrapped gun.

  ‘There’s going to be mud. Don’t want that getting into my Glock.’

  ‘I didn’t think you could shoot.’

  ‘I can’t.’ I said. ‘The gun’s for Billy.’

  ‘What do you have?’

  I pulled a face. ‘Handcuffs.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Pepper spray.’

  ‘A little better. But surely you don’t think you’re going to take down a crime gang with a little pepper spray.’

  ‘Okay, so I might have taken a Taser.’

  ‘You got a Taser?’ Nick looked up from tightening the straps on his vest. ‘You know how to use that bad boy?’

  ‘I haven’t done the accreditation,’ I said.

  ‘Excellent.’ He held out his hand. ‘I have. Oh come on.’ He wiggled his fingers. ‘You know you’d miss anyway.’

  I sighed. He was right. It was
the reason I hadn’t pressed my right to do the accreditation. The one weakness in the system was that you had to be able to hit your target for it to be effective.

  ‘Here.’ I handed him the Taser and a can of pepper spray.

  He copied my plastic bag trick and secured them onto his vest.

  ‘See how you open these.’ I showed Martine how the cuffs worked and then fitted them onto the back of her vest. ‘And make sure you fire this nozzle facing out.’ I handed her the spray.

  ‘Please.’ She sniffed. ‘Like I haven’t been using hairspray my whole life.’

  ‘You’d be surprised how many people get it wrong.’

  We put t-shirts over our vests and looked at each other. The shit was about to get real.

  ‘Bruce.’ I clipped on Cocoa’s lead and handed the end to him. ‘If something happens.’

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘It won’t. You’re all going to be home tonight to tell me about your crazy adventure.’

  Bruce.’ I put a hand on his arm. ‘I need to know….’

  ‘Yes. Yes.’ His eyes showed his concern. ‘I’ll look after him till your Mum gets back, and then I’ll fight her for custody.’

  I choked out a laugh. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Now,’ Bruce said, ‘enough of the mushy stuff. Go get those bad guys and bring Billy home.’

  11

  The Crystal

  We had to park further from the racecourse than I was comfortable with. You never knew when a high speed exit was going to be necessary.

  Nick’s eyes were round, his smile huge, as we joined the mass of women all trooping towards the showground. Most of them wore Miss Muddy white T-shirts. He rubbed his hands and chuckled.

  I was too busy worrying to find anything humorous about this situation. What if Billy wasn’t there? What if they had already dealt with him last night? What if we were in the totally wrong place? What if we….

  Martine smacked my arm. ‘You’ve got the biggest creases between your eyebrows. If the wind changes now, it’s all over for you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t your Mum ever tell you that? If you pull a face and the wind changes while you’re doing it, it’s permanent.’

  I stared at her for a second while my frenzied brain tried to process that.

  She let out a sigh. ‘Come on. Let’s go save Billy.’

  I nodded. That I could process.

  We joined the queue for the late ticket registration. It seemed we weren’t the only ones who had decided to do this at the last moment. I bounced up and down on my toes as we progressed towards the counter.

  We had only forty-five minutes until the nappy shipment was due.

  ‘Name?’ The attendant chewed gum as she stared at us over the top of her reading glasses.

  ‘Chanel, Martine and Nicole Milano,’ I said.

  She chewed a few more times while her eyes went up and down, assessing the height differences. ‘You three sisters?’

  ‘Cousins.’ I smiled. ‘Our dads are brothers.’

  ‘Riiiiiiigghhht.’ She obviously decided we were above her pay grade because she handed me three lanyards with our plastic-coated entry cards. She bent over and dug around in some boxes at her feet. ‘Medium, large and extra-large. Here you go.’ She handed me three t-shirts.

  ‘You got the t-shirts?’ I looked at Nick.

  He held his hand out for his. ‘It’s not every day I’m going to get to go in a Miss Muddy run. Of course I got the t-shirts.’

  I handed him the medium and Martine the extra-large, and then pulled the large on over my other shirt.

  A loudspeaker squealed through the intercom and then a voice said, ‘Ten minutes to start line. Would all Miss Muddys in Group A move to the start line.’

  ‘What group are we?’ I handed Nick and Martine their tickets and stared at mine.

  ‘C,’ Nick said.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  He shrugged. ‘Ask me tomorrow and I’ll be able to tell you.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ I held my ticket out for the man at the entrance to scan. ‘We’re in Group C. What does that mean?’

  ‘When you get through the doors, head over there.’ He waved a hand off to the left. ‘That’s Group C.’

  ‘Yes, but what does being in Group C mean?’

  His eyebrows went up as he looked at Martine and Nick.

  I nudged him. ‘What does being in Group C entail?’

  He mumbled something about ugly women as he looked back at me. ‘The three sections start five minutes apart. You’re last.’ He reached out and scanned first Martine, then Nick’s tickets.

  Nick batted his eyelashes and gave the man a wave with the tips of his fingers. ‘Thanks big boy,’ he said in a high-pitched voice.

  ‘Well, I never.’ Martine stomped ahead through the doors. ‘Who’s he calling ugly?’

  ‘Shit.’ I redid the math in my head. ‘We’ve only got fifteen minutes to make it down the racecourse and over the back fence of the warehouse.’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ Martine patted my arm. ‘It’s only about seven hundred metres.’

  ‘When was the last time you ran seven hundred metres?’ We exited the building and walked down a grassy corridor until we were on the racecourse.

  She sniffed. ‘I dance for at least an hour nearly every night of the week.’ A large banner down to the left had a C on it. We headed in that direction.

  ‘Have you ever danced in mud?’

  ‘Of course not. Have you?’

  ‘No.’ I knew I was being snippy but I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘I have.’ Nick broke off from staring at the group of girls standing near us. They looked like they danced a lot.

  ‘Danced in mud?’ I clarified.

  ‘Oh, daaanncced.’ He chuckled as he shook his head. ‘Sorry. Misheard you.’ He turned back to his perving.

  ‘What did he….’

  A voice booming over the loud speaker cut me off. ‘Group A. On your marks.’ I saw the far group of women start shuffling closer to the start line. ‘Get set.’ Some pushing and shoving broke out at the very front. ‘Go.’

  Shrieks broke out as the women headed for the break in the racecourse balustrading. They sprinted through the gap and for about another twenty metres and then there movements became slower. We could hear laugher echoing back to us. Looks like they had found the mud.

  Group B shuffled forwards towards the start line and our section moved up behind them to stand under the banner with the big B. I bounced up and down on the balls of my feet. Ten minutes to go.

  ‘What if the truck is early?’ I asked Martine.

  She laughed as she shook her head. ‘Not going to happen.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I swung my arms from side to side.

  ‘Delivery trucks are never early. Especially not when wharf workers are involved.’

  The A group were making some progress through the mud. The first obstacle was a balance log. It appeared the mud was making it slippery. More women were face-planting off the log than making it to the other end. The pristine white t-shirts were already a muddy brown.

  Nick chuckled and rubbed his hands together. I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I looked at Martine. He wasn’t making a very convincing woman, but then I’m not sure why I ever thought he would.

  ‘Group B, on your marks.’ Excited laughter broke out ahead of us. ‘Get set. Go.’

  Group B were off and running. A couple of the more competitive ones pushed and shoved as the flow narrowed to fit through the gap into the mud pit.

  We shuffled forwards to fill their space, the minutes ticking by at an agonisingly slow pace. There was so much counting on us and so much that could go wrong.

  I felt as if my entire life had been a practice run for what was about to come, and I only had this one chance, a matter of mere moments, to get it right.

  I took some deep breaths in through my nose, holding for a count of five before I released them again. I was hoping it was the equ
ivalent to breathing in and out of a paper bag.

  ‘Oxygenating. Good idea,’ Nick said. ‘Helps improve peak performance.’

  I didn’t bother telling him I was just trying not to throw up.

  ‘Group C.’

  Nick bent forwards, his knees bent, his arms ready to start pumping.

  I nudged him. ‘Don’t forget, we need to stay together.’

  ‘Toots.’ He looked over his shoulder at me. ‘I got short legs. My sprint will be Big Bird’s jog.’

  ‘On your mark.’

  ‘You said it yourself,’ he continued, ‘we’ve got fifteen minutes before all hell breaks loose.’

  ‘Go.’

  Shrieks broke out around us when, as a group, we started running for the break in the fence. It felt good to be moving. To finally be doing something. To be getting closer to Billy.

  Nick made good time, his little legs keeping him up with the group of dancers he had been staring at. Martine and I dropped in behind him. Shrieks and giggles echoed around us.

  We slowed as we hit the fence break, swinging to the right and into the centre of the racecourse.

  ‘There.’ Martine pointed to the far end of the course. ‘See the dark grey building?’

  ‘The one with the silver roof?’

  ‘Yes. That’s it.’

  It was still so far away. I could see Group A in the vicinity and they were ten minutes ahead of us.

  The front of our pack hit the mud and the decrease in speed concertinaed back like a peak-hour traffic jam. I groaned as we slowed to a walk.

  The pack leaders squealed as they slogged through the mud, heading for the log balance.

  The ground changed, becoming softer and softer until the turf disappeared and a pool of mud greeted us.

  ‘Here goes nothing.’ I plunged into the soft mud, my squeals joining that of the women around me as it oozed into my shoes and splattered up my legs.

  I sucked a foot out and put it in front of me, then the other. It took ten times more effort than running normally. We were never going to make it in time.

  Mud splashed and splooshed as we struggled forwards, slowing to wait for the women in front of us to traverse the logs.

  More slipped than made it, flying off the logs to land on all fours in the deep mud. Women pushed themselves back up, mud up to their thighs and elbows.