The Year's Best Australian SF & Fantasy - vol 05

by Bill Congreve (ed) (v1. 0) (epub)

  “So whatta you girls do for a crust?” Dave asked.

  Charlie smiled. “Marketing. Advertising. That sort of thing.”

  Jimbo pressed her foot to his groin, slowly massaging her toes with one hand, as he drank with the other.

  “Wow. Good pay?”

  “Some days, Dave.” Charlie never took her eyes away from Jimbo’s. She winked, her painted lashes falling and rising. “And today’s payday.”

  Still holding her foot, Jimbo unzipped his fly. She dove her toes briefly in, then pulled away. “Better check on Sara.” She slipped on her heels and headed towards the toilets.

  “How fucken good is this? We’re gunna get laid!”

  “I dunno, man.” Bop stared at the froth in his glass. “Looks like you two are in, but I’m feeling like I’m gunna end up fucking ma own hand.”

  They laughed, nestling back into their chairs, soaking up the afternoon as they dragged on their pints. Except for Bop, who perched on the edge of his seat, tearing up a beermat and casting glances towards the guys at the bar.

  Jimbo punched Dave hard on the upper arm.

  “Ow, what’s that for?”

  “Fucken telling them I’m gunna buy a wife! For one, it tells them, I dunno, that I’m not in for some action or something, and two, that we got a lot of money to spend. And month-trippers don’t help the second one much either.”

  They sat in silence, sipping beer.

  “What’s taking them so long?”

  “That’s chicks,” said Bop.

  Jimbo stared towards the bar. The three men were watching them. The barman came over and put a piece of paper on the table. He sat down heavily opposite Jimbo, where Charlie had been sitting.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.” His voice sounded like thick rope soaked in sheep dip until it had swollen too large for his throat.

  Dave picked up the paper. “What’s this? Five thousand dollars? I think you’ve made a mistake, mate.”

  “That’s the bill, gentlemen. I suggest you pay.”

  The two men at the bar heaved themselves off their seats and sauntered towards the toilets. “Back in a sec, Turk.”

  “We’re with a couple of ladies, mate,” said Jimbo. “When they come back, I’m sure we can sort this out.”

  Turk stretched and rotated his neck, vertebrae cracked. “You can pay now or we can make you pay now, country boys.”

  “Ya fucken having us on!” Dave laughed, looking from side to side at Jimbo and Bop for support. Bop shifted towards the edge of the seat away from them.

  Turk stroked Dave’s face. “I don’t think so.”

  Dave, his cheeks flushed, stared sullenly at Jimbo, then at the cocktail glasses.

  “We know you have money,” said Turk. “I don’t think we’re being too greedy here.” He stroked his chin. “What’s the going rate on the market these days for a wife, Cartel approved or not. Let’s say not. Ten grand? We could take it all, but you’re my first customers for the week, and you’ll bring me luck. Five grand, gentlemen.”

  “How does ‘get fucked’ sound?” Jimbo eased open his pack, his fingers sliding in until they hit the hard plastic sheath.

  “It sounds like this.” Turk pulled a handgun from his within his jacket and pointed the muzzle inches from Jimbo’s forehead. “Leave the bag alone, unless it’s cash you’ll be paying.” He grinned. Each incisor gleamed gold.

  There was a scream from the toilets. Jimbo and Dave looked up in alarm. Turk didn’t budge. Bop seemed all but invisible. If there’s gonna be a fight, I don’t think we can rely on this one.

  The men emerged from the toilets, dragging the girls by the hair. They forced them into the seat opposite the boys. Turk, still pointing the gun in Jimbo’s face, put his free arm around Charlie’s shoulders. She shuddered.

  “You like this one, yes?” Turk pressed the gun to the side of her head. “I suggest you pay the bill.”

  One of the heavies put a hand-held terminal on the table in front of Jimbo.

  “We accept all forms of payment. Cash, card, electronic.”

  “I don’t have that sort of mon -”

  “Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we? You’re in the market for a wife. We know this.”

  Jimbo looked at Bop, sitting there, edging away. That stupid cunt told them up at the bar! He stared back into Turk’s hazel-swirled eyes. “You wouldn’t fucken dare.”

  “I don’t need to.” Turk removed the gun from Charlie’s head, and raised both his hands in the air in front of him.

  Charlie leapt from the couch and sprinted towards the back exit near the toilets. She moved fast, but not as fast as one of the heavies who now brandished a pistol. A shot followed that shattered their eardrums. Charlie hit the floor, sprawling, face down. A plume of smoke drifted up from a hole in the back of her clothing.

  “Just another slut.” The heavy repositioned himself behind the couch, gun on display and blocked any further exit. “Plenty more where that came from.”

  “Oh Jesus,” Dave whispered into his hands.

  Jimbo sat very still, his heart hammering in his chest.

  Turk reached out one long arm. The barrel of the gun pressed against Sara’s temple. She shut her eyes.

  “Let’s settle the bill.”

  “Please, Jimbo. Don’t let him kill me.”

  It felt like every spring thunderstorm Jimbo had ever seen now breaking inside him, rushing up to burst his chest. His face felt flushed and he struggled to think. My first day in the City and I’m getting fucked over. Somewhere, deep in his marrow, anger began to build, knitting his bones and holding him together. They’d just killed someone and for what? Money? It’s five grand! Five fucken grand!

  “Please, Jimbo.” Sara tried to swallow a sob.

  “It ain’t worth getting killed,” said Bop.

  Dave’s eyes bulged like a dying roo. “Fer fuck’s sake, Jimbo.”

  No! No! No! No!

  “Okay.” Jimbo picked up the terminal. It felt as light as rain and as magic-like. “How do I work this?”

  Turk grinned again, and leant forward.

  Then a sneeze came from the back of the room. Turk and Bop exchanged a furtive glance.

  “Sorry,” said Charlie.

  Adrenalin surged through Jimbo’s veins. Everything so clear, so slow, so instant. That look between Bop and the Turk. These cunts are all in on this. These aren’t no Cartel, just thugs, like the cunts who come in from the orchards down The Aussie looking for a go. He swallowed hard. I can take these wogs. I’ll give em a fucken go. His hand was already moving ...

  Turk’s face reddened, the set of his jaw evolving into a brick. “You stupid fucking bitch!”

  ... and the terminal smashed into that brick, driving Turk’s head backwards, bouncing it off the top of the couch.

  “Dave!” Jimbo yelled, his other hand already pulling the hunting knife from the sheath in the bag.

  The sound of smashing glass, then a scream. Bop stumbled away from the couch, his face a wet mess of bloodied flesh. One of the heavies ducked as the broken pint glass hurled towards his head. Sara clawed at Dave as he grabbed his pack.

  “Give us ya fucken money!” she screamed.

  Dave punched her in the nose, the bone cracking under his fist. She screamed again, this time in pain, as blood spurted over the table. One of the heavies ran back to the bar, the other clambering over the couch to drag Dave down.

  Jimbo had the knife against Turk’s throat. One of the heavies made to move. Jimbo pressed the blade into the skin, drawing a bead of blood.

  “One step closer, cunt, and ya mate gets it.”

  Turk said, “Easy, boys.”

  One of the heavies laughed. Turk smirked.

  “What’s so fucken funny, cunt?” Jimbo applied pressure to the blade.

  “Think you’re going to get down those stairs in one piece, country boy?”

  Jimbo thrust the tip of the knife so it pierced the skin beneath Turk’s chin. “What makes you think
you will?”

  Jimbo forced Turk off the couch. They backed slowly towards the front door. Dave grabbed the packs, watching for any sudden movement by the heavies. Bop crouched on his knees, sobbing, blood dripping through the fingers he clasped to his face. Sara nursed her broken nose, her eyes swimming with hate. The guy behind the bar moved slowly, something large and heavy held in his hands.

  “Tell the cunt behind the bar to stay there!”

  Dave threw back the bolts on the door and pushed it open. They backed out onto the staircase that led down to the street.

  “Jimbo!” Charlie’s voice.

  Jimbo paused in the doorway, the knife biting into Turk’s throat. She stood near the bar. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

  He saw too late something in her hand.

  Turk threw his head back, the tip of the blade slicing his chin open, and dropped to his knees. Charlie fired. An electric discharge sizzled the air. A mess of wires bit into Jimbo’s hand, a shock racing up his arm into his skull. The knife dropped from twitching fingers. He convulsed and tumbled down the stairs. The world turned, thumping him with every year it had spun him on its orbit, bruising bones for every birthday he’d ever woken to.

  And then the world stopped spinning.

  He lay, limbs twisted with Dave, at the bottom of the stairs. Up above the sun burnt blue through a thin grey haze and he was alive and breathing.

  “Dave?”

  “Jimbo? Fuck.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “She fucken tasered me!”

  Dave struggled to get up. His teeth were chipped and blood rouged his lips. “Can ya get up? Ya gotta get up quick!”

  “I can’t move. She tasered me. That slut fucken tasered me!”

  “Come on, Jimbo!” Dave tried to pull Jimbo up from the footpath. It was spattered with bright red droplets.

  Jimbo managed to raise his hand against the sky. The skin on the back of his hand had peeled back in thick strips, like raw bacon, where the wires had torn from his flesh as he fell.

  The blue sky was torn away. The last thing Jimbo heard, as his head was yanked up by the hair, was Dave pleading not to kill them. Turk grinned, one tooth gold and shining with spit, blood smeared across his throat. A fist smashed into Jimbo’s jaw.

  ~ * ~

  Jimbo poised his finger above the doorbell to Niki’s apartment. Go on, do it. If she answers within ten seconds, tell her you love her. As he pressed it a horn sounded somewhere distant and fuzzy. The door opened immediately. Niki stood there in a black lace nightie, her hair ruffled and tumbling past her shoulders, her eyes a little puffy from sleep. She smiled.

  “Jimmy! So good to see you. Come in.”

  He walked into her apartment and she closed the door behind him. The room was a dank windowless square. On the floor pushed up against the far wall lay a stained mattress.

  “What do you think?” she said, still standing behind him. Her voice sounded stretched.

  Droplets of blood spattered the wall near the mattress. Jimbo’s head ached. It felt like his jaw was trying to squeeze out his teeth.

  “You can fuck me if you want.” Niki’s voice was all wrong.

  Slowly, Jimbo turned, his body moving through glue. Fitzy leaned against the door dressed in Niki’s nightie. Makeup smeared his face. He pulled the nightie down over one full breast, the nipple large and pink. Coarse black hair sprouted from the circumference of the areola.

  “What are you doing here?” Jimbo’s mouth filled with blood. “Where’s Niki?”

  “I dunno man, but we’re gunna be all right.” Fitzy slipped his arms beneath Jimbo’s armpits and hugged him tight. He still had Niki’s long, lean legs.

  Jimbo screamed.

  “It’s okay, man, I’m here, I’m here.” Dave’s face blurred into view. One eye had swollen shut and his nose dripped a thin bloody mucous.

  Dave dragged Jimbo down an alley. Jimbo struggled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of gunk. His head pounded. He ran his tongue round his mouth, cleaning out thickened saliva. A tooth was missing.

  “We’re almost there.” Dave pointed into the distance, down into murk and shadow. “That way, I think.”

  “What?” Jimbo swayed, trying to get his bearings.

  “Bridal Services is that way. Maybe a block. We can get fixed up, go into hibernation.”

  “Where the fuck is Niki?” Jimbo shoved Dave away.

  “I dunno, man. Come on, what are you doing?

  “I need to find Niki. Where’s our stuff? I gotta give her something. I gotta tell her something.”

  “Niki’s not here. We lost our daypacks. Come on, Jimbo, you’re fucked up.” Dave reached out for Jimbo’s arm. Jimbo swatted it away.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  Dave grimaced, eyes watering. He snorted snot and swallowed. “Come on, Jimbo. Let’s go.”

  “The girls. We gotta help the girls! Where’s Niki?”

  “Jimbo, listen to me, man, you’re not making any sense. Those girls fucked us over. Bop too. The chinks helped us outta there. Bad blood between those fuckers.”

  “Ya fucken wrong. She wanted me. She was rubbing ma cock! I gotta find her. She loves me.”

  “Niki ain’t here.”

  “What the fuck would you know about anything, Dave?” Jimbo thrust Dave up against the alley wall, squeezing the shirt collar around his neck. “You ain’t never been in love. Not like me. Not like Niki.” And what had happened all came back to him, crushing his anger, taking a little more of his soul with it.

  “Sure, Jimbo, sure.” Tears streaked Dave’s cheeks. A bubble of bloodied snot burst from his nose. “I believe ya, man. I know ya love her. We all do.”

  Jimbo released Dave. “I gotta find her, Dave. I gotta save her from all this shit.”

  Dave sank to his haunches, slumped against a wall in a piss-soaked alley, as the night swallowed Jimbo whole.

  ~ * ~

  Floodlights lit up the Mederos building, chasing shadows out into the street. The doors opened and Jimbo strode into the lush interior, the air-con and smell of leaf fuelling his courage.

  A different woman sat at reception. Two Cartel men stood nearby. Jimbo headed towards the elevators, trying to keep his battered face down. The receptionist looked up. The Cartel men began to move.

  Jimbo broke into a trot, then sprinted towards the elevator banks. He stabbed the up button with his finger. One of the Cartel men, smooth head and metal eyes, rounded the corner.

  “Hey! Stop!”

  The elevator chimed softly and a door slid open.

  Jimbo ducked inside, pressed close then floor sixty-four. The doors shut, just as the Cartel arrived. Jimbo laughed.

  “Fuck ya’s all. Can’t stop a man on a mission.”

  The elevator didn’t move.

  He pressed the floor button again. Nothing. A key slot on the access panel. Shit.

  The elevator chimed and the doors opened.

  Two Cartel men: one resting a hand on a holstered gun, the other a hand outstretched.

  “Come on, mate. Looks like you’ve been hurt enough today. Time to go home.”

  “Ya don’t understand. I’m here to see my cousin. She lives -”

  “We know, mate.”

  A guiding hand on Jimbo’s elbow. Gently led from the elevator.

  “I’ve come all this way.” Jimbo’s voice hitched. Somewhere deep inside, all the pain was rising. “I need to see her.”

  They led him out into the foyer. One of them signalled to the receptionist and she nodded.

  “She’s not here, Jimbo,” said one of the Cartel. “You need to go home. We’ll get you a cab.”

  “But I love her.” Jimbo sobbed. Tears fell from his eyes. An electric buggy detached from the rank outside the Mederos building and pulled up alongside them as they exited. They eased him into the back seat.

  “He’s staying at Bridal Services in Chinatown.” The Cartel man pressed a bill into t
he driver’s hand.

  “But how do you know -” said Jimbo.

  “Here’s some advice, mate. She doesn’t want to see you.” Metal eyes reflected floodlights, a dull grey that sank into Jimbo’s core. “Nicole White has moved on. You need to too.”

  “No, no ... I need to see her.”