The faint light of the dying moon made little impression here. Mangroves closed in overhead. The tops of their crowns were only three or four metres above the water, but that was high enough to cast the water into gloom. I slowed. Harlin could ambush me simply by leaving the channel and lurking nearby. I cut the motor and drifted. I could hear Harlin’s boat ahead. I restarted the motor and chugged forward. The channel narrowed and split two ways. I cut the motor again and followed the sound of Harlin’s boat. The channel was now only ten or fifteen metres wide. It bent to the north. I cut the motor for a third time, and this time I couldn’t hear Harlin’s boat. I couldn’t hear anything. There was no light and no sound, but somewhere close lurked Harlin. The boat drifted. The Glock was in my hand. I lay on my stomach with my elbows propped on the side of the tender and the pistol pointing into the fearful dark. I was ready to kill. For a long time I listened. The water was still and the boat was still and I was still. Once I thought I could hear Harlin breathing. A couple of times I thought I could see the glint of his tinnie. But I held my fire.
The tide started to turn, tugging at the boat. It wanted to drag it out of the mangroves and back to the main channel. The boat bumped the trunk of a mangrove. It made a deadened noise that sounded a bit like a death knell. A motor started nearby and revved, shattering the night. I saw a flash of aluminium and shot at it. In my exhilaration I got to my knees, but I had lost my night vision in the flash of the gun. I fired again, and felt the jolt as Harlin’s boat rammed mine. I rebalanced and raised the gun again, but not quickly enough. Harlin fired, and there was a smack on my shoulder, forceful enough to twist me. I dropped the gun and fell against the side of the tender. Harlin rammed me again. The tender tipped, violently, and I fell into the black water of the mangroves and went under.
For a while there was only darkness, a sucking blackness that might have been a womb or a nightmare. It made me think, later, that nightmares were not much more than memories of the womb, because you want to cry out and you cannot, and you want to move and you cannot. I sucked for breath and the sea rushed in. I could not move and I could not scream. Then somehow I was back on the surface and coughing up seawater and fighting for air, and I only knew I was still alive because of the burning in my throat. I went down again, but again I came back up. I could move my legs enough to stay afloat, but not to swim.
The water was cold. My shoulder was starting to hurt, but the cold dulled the pain. I wondered, with the detachment of the dying, if sharks liked to feed in mangroves at night and decided they probably did. Sharks can smell a drop of blood a mile away, so the myth said. It was probably true. I was pretty sure I was bleeding more than a drop of blood. I was probably bleeding enough to attract sharks from South Africa. I could move the fingers of my right hand, but not my arm. I was weak. I supposed I would get weaker as I lost more blood. It was harder now to keep my head above water. I wondered if I should stop struggling.
I heard a motor and thought Harlin might be coming back to finish the job. It was still dark. Torchlight stabbed at me and a boat sidled up. I felt like going under. Someone grabbed me by the hair.
I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew I was lying on solid ground and Harlin was tending my shoulder. Later I worked out he was using the bandage Melody had used to strap my side. When he finished the bandaging he put his face over mine, very close. There was a grey light in the sky now.
‘Does it hurt?’
‘Like a son of a bitch.’ I wanted it to sound nonchalant, but it came out as a raspy whisper.
‘You’ll survive.’
‘You gotta stop grabbing people by the hair, Harlin.’ I don’t know if he heard or understood. His unreachable, unknowable eyes looked at me from another planet. ‘Listen to me, West. I didn’t kill Hiskey. Tell the cops. I didn’t kill him. Tell them that, West.’
‘Who did?’
‘How the fuck would I know? It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill him.’
‘You shot me.’
‘You shot at me first. You can’t shoot for shit.’ The bags under his eyes were purple; they looked like rotten plums. There was a bruise on his forehead, perhaps where Melody had hit him with the axe handle. ‘I heard the hammer was in your car. Who gave you the hammer?’
‘Don’t you know?’ I was finding it difficult to remain engaged in the conversation.
‘I want to hear it from you.’
‘Your fingerprints on it.’
‘Of course it had my fingerprints on it.’
‘Hiskey’s blood.’
‘Of course it had his blood on it.’ I could see nothing but exhaustion in his face. It was more than the exhaustion of a sleepless night. It was much deeper than that. ‘Who gave you the hammer?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Leave Melody alone.’
‘I’m over her. I’m over you. I’m over it all.’
He stood up and was gone, leaving me staring up at a dirty sky.
I tried to move. It wasn’t easy. I felt like resting. I rested.
I came to, some time later. The sun was up. I managed to sit, but someone tugged on the red-hot cable that was threaded through my shoulder and I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain. After a while I managed to open them again. I was on a sorry mud beach on the edge of the clinging mangroves. Pneumatophores reached up like fingers, and there was a stench of rotting organic matter. Harlin’s tinny had been pulled onto the beach, but there was no sign of the tender. I tried to stand. I made it to my knees.
I decided to crawl. I clawed the mud with my left hand. I made progress. A turtle would have been proud. I was thirsty. Eating mud didn’t help. I tried to stand again and this time succeeded. I made it to the top of the beach. There was a road, a dirt road. It looked as if a car would drive along it every year or two. I got to the middle of it before collapsing.
35
I had a dream about a beautiful face that I wanted to touch and could not. It seemed familiar. It seemed sad. And for a long time it was out of reach and kept floating away. It was like a balloon, and I chased it. I really wanted to catch it. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to pop it. Actually I wanted to kiss it. But for a long time it was out of reach.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘I don’t know. My throat’s dry.’
‘Do you feel any pain?’ The voice was matter-of-fact.
‘Yes.’
‘Where?’
‘Everywhere.’
‘Does this hurt?’
‘Yes.’
‘This?’
‘Yes.’
‘This?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
‘Get stuffed.’
Someone laughed. After a while I opened my eyes. My left arm had a drip-line attached to it, but I could move it. The beautiful face appeared. I reached for it, and this time I could touch it.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’
‘You’ve been shot.’
‘Twice.’
‘The doctor says you were lucky.’
‘I feel lucky. Was he just here?’
‘Maybe an hour ago.’
‘He’s a dick.’
‘No, he’s nice. Tarrant wants to speak to you. When you’re strong enough.’
‘I may never be strong enough. I need to close my eyes.’
‘Close them, then.’ I closed them.
‘You won’t disappear?’
‘No. I might have to go to the bathroom from time to time.’
‘Can’t you hold on to it?’
‘Not forever.’
‘Ask a nurse to give you a tube. I think I’ve got one. It’s convenient.’
‘You’re an idiot. Rest now.’
I rested. The next time I woke I was less dead. I turned my head and saw Melody sitting in an armchair reading a magazine.
‘Hey.’
She looked up. ‘Hey.’ She came to me and stroked my hair.
‘I f
eel a bit better.’
‘Good.’
‘How did I get here?’
‘A maintenance crew found you in the sewerage works.’
‘Is that why I feel like shit?’
‘They were doing a routine check. They called an ambulance, which brought you here.’
‘How long ago?’
‘It’s Friday. You’ve been here two days. They put you in an induced coma until this morning.’
‘Operation?’
She shook her head. ‘The doctor said you were too weak. Anyway, they didn’t need to. The bullet passed through. You won’t be able to use your arm for a few weeks. There’s ligament damage, he said.’
‘What about Harlin?’
‘No sign of him.’
She was still stroking my hair. She had a nasty bruise on her left cheek.
‘Is that where Harlin hit you with his gun?’
She touched it. ‘Yeah.’
‘You were right when you said it was risky, us getting together.’
‘We knew it wouldn’t be easy.’
‘What happened after I took off in the boat?’
‘Not much. I called Tasso, Tarrant and Bert, like you told me. Tarrant organised a search party. The police have a boat. It was a while before it went out, and then they didn’t know where to look, so it was a bit hopeless. A chopper went up at first light, but you were found not long after anyway. I guess they’re still looking for Harlin. It’s been on the news. Tasso and I came here. Last night I stayed in his apartment. I wanted to stay here but they wouldn’t let me.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Tarrant is desperate to see you. He says he has lots of questions. Apparently the wound in your shoulder had been bandaged.’
‘Harlin did that.’
‘Did he? Well, expect a visit soon. From Tasso, too. He’s been here almost as much as I have. He made sure you had the best room in the hospital, and the best doctors.’
A nurse came in. ‘Oh, good. You’re awake,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘I have to check your vital signs.’
‘I hope you find some.’
He checked my heart rate, blood pressure and breathing.
‘Headache?’
‘No.’
‘Any discomfort?’
‘My shoulder is throbbing like hell. And why is my back so sore?’
‘Your back is bruised.’ I thought it might have been from when Harlin had dragged me into the tinnie. The nurse showed me how to work the Patient Controlled Analgesia system, otherwise known as a morphine drip. ‘Don’t worry. You can’t overdose. It’s controlled. You can push the button as much as you like but it will lock you out for a few minutes if you try to use too much.’
When Tarrant arrived I was as high as a kite.
‘What’s up, dude?’ I said.
‘Pleased to see you’re still alive.’
‘Ditto, dudo.’
Tarrant looked deadpan at Melody, who had pulled a chair close to my bed. She smiled at him.
‘Tell me what happened when you went off after Harlin,’ said Tarrant. I told him about the chase and the short gun battle, and how I had fallen in the water. And how Harlin had pulled me out, brought me to the beach and bandaged my wound.
‘Why would he shoot you and then save your life?’
‘Beats me, dude.’
‘Please stop calling me dude.’
I tried to give myself another shot of morphine but the system had locked me out. ‘I don’t know why he saved me. Maybe so I could give you a massage. A message, I mean.’ I giggled.
‘He had a message for me?’
‘For the cops, yeah. He said he didn’t kill Hiskey.’
‘He said that to you?’
‘Yeah. When we were on the beach. He said he didn’t know who did, but it wasn’t him.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘I didn’t believe him, I didn’t disbelieve him. I was agnostic.’
Tarrant looked at Melody again and I caught her giving him an apologetic smile. He asked me a few more questions but I didn’t have much more to tell him. He left, saying that a uniform would be in soon to take my statement. I slept for a while and, when I woke, Tasso was there. I had come down from my high.
‘Jesus, Steve, what the hell did you think you were doing?’
‘I was stupid.’
‘At what point did you realise that?’
‘I think when I got shot and fell in the water.’
‘And Harlin saved you?’
‘He did.’
‘What the fuck for?’
‘Who knows?’
He gazed at me for a moment. ‘You need to stop taking so many risks.’
‘Yeah, I should. But we’re having fun, aren’t we?’
Tasso looked at Melody. ‘Sarcastic prick, isn’t he?’ She just smiled. He looked back at me. ‘Anyway, you’re the one having all the fun. I’ve just been stuck in the office.’
‘Must be your turn to get shot, then.’
‘Must be, touch wood.’
‘Any news on the exploration licence?’
‘Not yet. But when you’re feeling better we can start planning the drilling program anyway.’
‘Sure. Give me a couple of days. I’ve been shot, by the way.’
‘I’ve arranged for you to convalesce at Piss and Crawl’s place.’
‘Alright. Good idea.’
Later I gave a formal statement to a cop on the events of that night, and I received a visit from an orthopaedic surgeon. He felt around my wound with experienced, tender fingers.
‘I think the internal bleeding has almost stopped,’ he said. ‘We took X-rays while you were under. Overall, you were lucky. The bullet missed the bone and the brachial artery. I think it nicked a ligament. Over time you will get most of your movement back, but you’ll probably feel continuing discomfort. Eventually we may need to operate to repair the ligament, but that we can wait until the wound has healed.’
‘How long will that take?’
‘That depends on how well you follow my instructions, but let’s say a month, give or take. For the next ten days you should keep it completely immobile. We’ll give you a sling before you go. Wear it.’
‘Alright.’
‘A bullet has just bored a hole through your body. You lost a lot of blood. You were very dehydrated. There’s still a risk of infection. You’re recovering, but you’re not out of the woods. Take it easy. You shouldn’t do much more than go to the bathroom for at least three or four more days.’
‘Okay, doc.’
Melody was still there and she held my hand and I fell asleep. When I woke she was asleep herself. Luke was standing next to the bed.
‘Good to see you’re awake at last. They tell me you’ll live.’
‘I guess I will.’ It was the first time I had seen him since our telephone conversation. He looked the same as he always did. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m good. Yeah. I’m good. Worried about my brother, but otherwise great.’
‘How are things with your … friend?’
‘Partner is the correct term, Steve. Things are good. Great. His name is Nick.’
‘When do I meet him?’
‘Soon. He almost came along today.’
‘Will I like him?’
‘Yeah, I think you’ll like him.’ Luke looked at Melody in the chair. ‘Who’s she?’
‘Melody.’
‘I like the sound of her name.’
‘Don’t be corny.’
‘Where does she fit in?’
‘Partner is the correct term, I guess.’
His eyebrows jumped. ‘Really? Shit, Steve.’
‘Yeah. Shit. It’s a recent thing. But it feels kind of serious.’
‘We really need to spend more time with each other. All these life changes.’
‘Yeah. Let’s do that, Luke.’
He studied me, looking serious. ‘Can we talk now?’
‘Sure.’
He pulled up a chair, careful not to disturb Melody. ‘What’s biting you?’
‘Nothing’s biting me. I just want to talk.’
‘About?’
‘Anything. Everything.’
‘Nick?’
‘Yeah, sure, Nick. He sent flowers.’ Luke gestured to a large bunch of native flowers sitting on the sideboard, out of my peripheral vision.
‘Nick sent flowers?’
‘Yeah. Something wrong with that?’
‘No, it’s very kind.’
‘You think it’s gay.’
‘Not at all.’
‘It is gay. Nick’s gay.’
‘Sure.’ There was a pause. ‘You sure you’re gay, Luke? I never sensed it.’
‘Yeah, I’m positive, if bisexual means gay. And of course you never sensed it.’
‘What do you mean?’
Luke rolled his eyes. ‘Well, for a start, you haven’t been around much in the last decade or two. And, second, I did my best to keep it hidden from you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s not the sort of thing you like talking about. You don’t like talking about personal stuff.’
‘I’m a mining engineer.’
‘See? You always deflect when there’s a danger of getting personal, don’t you? Make a joke of it.’ I didn’t respond. ‘You know what I think?’
‘No, Luke, I’m a bloody mining engineer.’
‘I think you closed up emotionally when you were twelve, on account of your mother, and you’ve never reopened. It’s such a shame. It’s a shame because in the end it means no one gets close to you, no one gets to know your heart, not truly. I think you’re lonely. Very lonely.’ I still didn’t say anything. My shoulder was throbbing. ‘Aren’t you? Say something.’
‘I’m tired, Luke. Let me think about it.’
‘Sure, Steve. Let’s talk in another decade.’ He looked at me for a while. ‘I’ll see you later, alright?’
‘Yeah.’ He turned to go. ‘Luke?’
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