Choke on it, I want to say.
‘Special recipe,’ I say instead, helping myself to the next reindeer.
‘Lucky last?’ I ask Jack.
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ he says, taking the final cookie with the leafy green design. ‘Okay, I better get in position.’
Chewing happily, Jack stands behind the woman. He’s the director, out of sight of his audience, Nathan and the other Revivees. He doesn’t want to spook the natives, not when he’s got me to rope them in.
We wait. Fixed smiles at twenty paces.
God knows what he’s thinking. I’m thinking the best I can do now is mess with his megamind and expose the man as a monster. If I provoke him into killing me I can save Nathan and the Revivees. The thought slams me: I’m about to die. This is it. It’s agony to think what Jack will do to Evan after I’m gone. But I can’t sacrifice countless lives in the slender hope I can somehow save my little brother.
I blink away the frustration and summon my rage by thinking about what Jack’s really been up to. He surprised me by not targeting the Revivees when I was in Shadow Valley. It’s not because I touched his soul and rescued him from the dark side. Jack’s simply building up his numbers, raising Minions while there’s still breath in bodies. Proudly, naively, stupidly, I thought my influence had resulted in him raising people equally. But he’s been going for quantity because he can shape their minds and bodies. Fat people can be made thin. Stupid people can be made smart. As for letting people go?
I doubt he’s ever even tried. I think he was just stringing me along until he could tell me he’d done it.
I kneel down and hug Evan tight. I wish I knew I was reaching him. But this will have to do. I’ll have to believe he knows I tried—
‘Danby, okay?’ he asks.
‘I just love you,’ I reply, forcing myself to be bright and cheery, knowing Jack thinks I’m saying it to him. I stand up and look around the people and the park. Everything seems so there, so sharp. Contradictory feelings clash in me.
I’m scared but death is also an escape. Green to red: we all have to do it. I’m just going before these people—but after so many others. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife but I hope I see my family and friends there. What would be even better is if I can still watch over Evan—and maybe haunt Jack, drive him mad, infest his dreams like—
Anger surges in me. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave Evan. It’s not fair that fighting to survive since Beautopia Point has only led to this dead end.
‘You all right?’ Jack asks. ‘She’s coming around.’
I laugh.
‘What?’
I shake my head. ‘Private joke.’
What’s funny is that knowing my life’s about to end has cured my fear of public speaking.
Wow-feel-so-good-Where-am-I?
The woman slides back into consciousness on an opiate cushion. Memory hasn’t hit her and she’s pleasantly confused.
Who’re-these-people?
To her we’re still indistinct blurs against the garden’s soft greenery. Impulses from the Revivees are clearer to her. They tune her experience—and she theirs.
Who’s-that?-My-name’s-Phoebe-Why-so-scared-Ravi?-Who’re-all-the-people-in-the-park?-Can’t-tune-them.
The Revivees seeing us all, minds unreadable, sparks a wave of fear.
Oh-my-God-it’s-like-those-bastards-in-Parramatta-No-like-Nathan-Who’s-that-girl-out-front?
The Revivees have never seen me except briefly through Cassie’s drug-smeared memories.
‘I’m Danby,’ I say, becoming more distinct for this woman—Phoebe—and thus for everyone else out there.
Phoebe tries to talk, tries to think straight, tries to remember—but everything’s pleasantly dream-like thanks to whatever Jack gave her.
‘I’m going to explain everything,’ I say to her and them. ‘But first I just need you to listen. I’m speaking to you and to Nathan and to all the other people you can see and hear and feel and who can see and hear and feel you.’
It’s freaky, tuning Phoebe, tuning the Revivees through her.
What’s-she-talking-about?-Can’t-hear-this-Danby’s-mind-But-she-seems-nice-Are-these-all-her-friends?-She’s-the-one!-Woke-up-Cassie-Must-be-the-one-Nathan’s-friend-What’s-she-doing-talking-to-us-like-this?
I focus on Phoebe. Suffused with narcotic warmth, she thinks I’d be pretty if it wasn’t for the ugly stitches on my head, thinks that my voice is sweet as it flows through her, thinks that although she’s just woken up she’s still so very sleepy. I wonder how much of the opiate Jack has dosed her with.
I’m-so-thirsty.
Damon appears at Phoebe’s elbow and helps her drink.
Thanks-Wow-he’s-cute. She’s quite sure this is some weird dream in the middle of the deepest sleep she’s ever had.
I let go of Evan’s hand and step closer to Phoebe, look into her eyes as I picture my friend out there.
‘Nathan,’ I say. ‘I hope you’re okay. If you can see and hear me, I want you to know that I’m talking to you of my own free will.’
Who’s-Nathan?-What’s-happening? The relaxants in Phoebe’s bloodstream mean she’s happily confused and the Revivees get my message through her soothed system. Cool-man-She’s-talking-to-that-guy-Yeah-Nathan-he’s-the-one-who’s-been-reviving . . .
I glance at Jack. He nods that I’m doing fine.
‘Jack Griffin’s the guy who rescued me in Parramatta,’ I say. ‘Since then he’s accomplished a lot. Many of the people you see behind me owe their lives to him. He raised them up with his words and his touch. I don’t know how but he did. He’s secured the town of Clearview in the lower Blue Mountains, he’s cleared roads, he’s taken control of Penrith. Jack, why don’t you come over here and show everyone who you are.’
Behind Phoebe, Jack’s smile falters and he shakes his head, the publicity-shy maestro reluctant to take a bow.
‘Come on,’ I urge, ‘They need to know the man behind the plan.’
Jack’s brow is furrowed but he has to play along or risk raising suspicions. He walks into Phoebe’s line of vision and stands next to me.
Wow-he’s-cute-too, our human camera thinks hazily.
The Revivee reviews are more mixed: He’s-not-much-older-than-her-Is-he-army?-More-like-a-rock-douche-What’s-the-man’s-plan?-Is-this-some-kinda-scam-Do-we-need-to-be-afraid . . .
I don’t care what they think. Just so they all know what the enemy looks like. None of the Revivees have seen him before—any more than they’ve seen me.
‘Uh, hi, I guess,’ Jack’s awkwardness is exquisite, a tiny victory in my final seconds.
‘But Nathan, what you need to know about Jack is that—’
I take a deep breath.
‘He wants you dead,’ I shout, dancing out of Jack’s reach. ‘All of you out there. He’s controlling people’s minds and he’ll kill you all. He murdered my mum! Don’t trust him, fight—’
Nick’s on me, arm around my throat. I see it through Phoebe.
What I also tune is that the Revivees see all this through her in the seconds before someone starts choking her.
Holy-shit-they’re-killing-her-Killing-them-both-Oh-my-God—
Phoebe’s mind goes black—and mine follows hers into nothingness.
FOURTEEN
Lachie dead at my feet is the first thing I see when I come around. Red blood. White feathers. Black bitumen. The poor bird blown nearly in half.
‘Lachie,’ I try to say but I’m gagged.
Tears rain off my cheeks onto him.
I want to bend down, scoop him up, but I can’t. Strong hands on my shoulders hold me in place. My wrists are tied in front of me. My Wonder Woman bracelet is gone. I lift my head. See myself reflected in mirrored sunglasses.
‘Hey,’ Jack says, his breath hot on my face. ‘How’re you feeling?’
I try to focus through the grogginess.
‘Can you stand by yourself?’ he asks.
&
nbsp; I nod. He takes his hands from my shoulders. I sway a bit.
Jack dips his sunglasses. His eyes are so red and raw they look like they’re about to drip blood and his tongue snakes over his dry lips. Jack swigs from a water bottle.
Everything comes back in a torrent.
I’m amazed he’s still standing because I simmered a shitload of Mum’s weed in the butter I used to make half of those biscuits. I hadn’t known how I was going to use them beyond a vague idea that if he was stoned and disorientated it might be easier to finish him off. Now looking at him that part of the plan seems half-baked.
‘Desert mouth,’ Jack says with a soft slur. ‘Your mum made you hash cookies for Christmas?’
He looks at my eyes. ‘Except you’re fine, aren’t you?’ He shakes his head. ‘Right, I got the ones with the green tree icing. Funny. But why’d you want to drug me? Why, Danby?’
If he wanted me to answer, he’d remove the gag.
‘You said they diagnosed you with a mental illness,’ he says sadly. ‘They were right. You’re delusional, you know that, right?’
I hope he can see the defiance in my eyes. I’m not going to doubt myself again.
‘I don’t know what you want,’ he sighs. ‘But you know what I wanted. And it wasn’t this.’
Jack steps back and I see what ‘this’ means.
We’re on the Victoria Bridge, enclosed by steel walls.
Behind him, a crowd glares at me. I feel like a witch about to be burned at the stake. Evan stands by Damon at the front of a thicket of Minions that bristles with guns. My little brother stares at me. I’m relieved Jack hasn’t hurt him to hurt me. But I’m horrified at what he might do to him. More of Jack’s guys stand guard on the steel walls and on the arches and tracks of the railway bridge. Marv, Tajik, Alex, Max and Angela stand to one side, along with seven other unarmed people. I count ’em up. Twelve. Specials. He’s rounded them up. Made sure they’re all in one place. Their expressions are pained as they look at me. I can’t tell if they’re afraid or angry. Both, probably.
Then the crowd separates as Nick and Damon carry Phoebe on a stretcher to where Jack and I stand. She’s still out cold.
Nick holds her up, aims her at me and Jack. Damon pops a little cap under her nostrils. She comes to in an instant, startled.
What-happened-where-am-I—
‘Listen,’ Jack says sternly. ‘Listen to me.’
Phoebe’s mind snaps to attention—and the Revivees out there freeze in their tracks.
‘You heard what this girl claimed,’ Jack says, pointing a finger at me. ‘You can literally feel how much fear she’s spread.’
They can. We all can.
We’ve-got-to-stay-the-hell-away-from-this-guy . . .
Tregan, Gary, Ravi, Wayne: the Revivees don’t trust Jack and they won’t.
Whatever else happens, he can’t seduce them the way he did me. In that I’ve won.
‘I’m sorry my people had to render her unconscious but I had to stop her spreading more lies,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry she has to be restrained now. But while she is dangerous I also want you to see that no harm’s come to her—or to Phoebe.’
I see Jack through Phoebe. Red-eyes-Looks-like-he’s-been-crying-He-sounds-so-calm-Not-like-her-all-crazy.
I wonder if I’ll choke if I vomit while gagged.
‘This girl is deluded,’ Jack says, pointing at me. ‘About her mum. About me controlling people and wanting to hurt any of you. The reason I asked her to talk to you was to appeal to her friend Nathan. Some of you know him. Others have heard about him. You’ve seen him urge people to take up guns. You know he has a history of mental problems. He’s terrorised his friends before.’
I-never-thought-he-was-that-dangerous-But-we-got-a-restraining-order-Not-his-fault-bipolar-episode-and . . . Tregan and Gary’s minds confirm Jack’s claims.
‘There’s no way to say this nicely,’ Jack continues. ‘Nathan and a few other misguided souls under his influence have committed atrocities against unarmed medical volunteers trying to save hundreds of lives. What I asked this girl to do was to help me stop the violence.’
A wave of revulsion sweeps through the Revivees.
Jesus-Nathan-What-the-?-You-sick-bastard-Don’t-know-what-to-believe-Pissing-this-guy-off -risks-us-all-Jesus-gotta-get-as-far-away-as . . .
Jack pauses, shrugs. ‘Believe her, believe me, it’s up to you. But my mission, and the mission of all the people you see around me, is to save as many people as we can and rebuild for safety and security. We wanted to join forces with you. Try to talk sense into Nathan. But this girl has jeopardised all of that. She has tried to pick a fight on your behalf.’
Nick gently turns Phoebe’s head this way and that, so everyone can see the scope of Jack’s army.
Holy-shit-There-must-be-a-hundred-guys-Machine-guns-No-way-to-beat-them-Not-that-I-want-to-fight-I’m-on-your-side-Jack-Anyone-sees-this-Nathan-prick . . .
‘I don’t want to fight,’ Jack says. ‘But we will if we have to. Here’s what has to happen. Nathan: surrender. That’s the first step to peace. I’ll guarantee your safety, hers and everyone else’s. We can get you and her back on medication, put all of this behind us, get on with rebuilding. But that starts with you coming alone and unarmed to Victoria Bridge within the hour.’
Jack puts his hand on my shoulder, the .45 obvious in his waistband. ‘If you don’t then I can only assume you’re out there planning more attacks. I’ll consider it a declaration of war that’ll have this girl as its first casualty. I’ll have no choice but to come for you. And everyone else. All of that? It’ll be on you. I don’t want it. None of you want it. The choice is yours, Nathan. One hour.’
With that, Nick places headphones over Phoebe’s ears and drops a hood over her head. I see and hear what she experiences: rough blackness and blasting rap.
Beyond her terror the Revivees’ minds are ablaze.
My-God-we’ve-got-to-get-out-of-the-city-Nathan-if-you-can-hear-us-give-yourself-up-That-bloody-Danby-what-was-she-thinking?-Nathan-if-you-don’t-surrender-I’ll-find-and-kill-you-myself-C’mon-babe-we’re-going-Just-leave-the-Lorazepam-Tregan-we-have-to-go . . .
Jack turns me to face the crowd.
‘Sorry for the drama,’ he says to them. ‘But she’s risked everything. No one will get hurt if her friend does the right thing.’
The Minions murmur in solidarity. Max, Angela and other acolytes nod in agreement or stare at me hatefully. Tajik shifts from foot to foot like he’s ready to try to climb the bridge’s high steel walls. Alex’s cheeks are shiny with tears.
Only Marv speaks. ‘What about her?’ he says, pointing at Phoebe, held in her hood. ‘She hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘You’re right,’ Jack says. ‘But we can’t let them use what she can see and hear if they decide to attack us now.’
A ripple goes through the crowd, natural and artificial reactions merging seamlessly. If I were Alex or Angela or any of them, I’d be looking to Jack for protection. What they don’t realise is that they’re shielding him as surely as those high steel walls. Even if Nathan was a crack sniper, he couldn’t shoot Jack down here. Trying to use a hand grenade or rocket launcher would risk killing us all.
‘Come with me.’ Jack takes my elbow and guides me away from the crowd.
We face the eastern open end of the bridge, where he expects Nathan to appear.
‘I’m really sorry about this,’ Jack says. ‘But once we deal with him, we can start over.’ He lights a cigarette, smiles brightly. ‘We’ll get through this. You’re meant to climb the golden ladder. You don’t belong in the potter’s ground.’
I don’t know what Jack’s talking about. The hairs on my arms stand on end at how crazy he sounds.
‘Wow, those cookies!’ Jack says. ‘I haven’t been this stoned in years. I’d forgotten how much I loved it. The flow of ideas? The hum and crackle? You can’t believe what it’s like being this out of it in so many minds and bodies. Cosmic doe
sn’t describe it. So many new possibilities. You’ve opened my mind.’
Jack laughs at his joke, sucks hard on his cigarette.
He loosens my gag. ‘Is that better?’
‘Nathan,’ I spit, ‘he won’t come.’
Jack blows smoke from the corner of his mouth. ‘You know he will.’
I hope he’s wrong. ‘Don’t hurt him.’
Jack shakes his head. ‘You decided his fate.’
‘Me?’
He nods. ‘If you’d done what I asked, we could’ve come up with a non-violent resolution.’
‘What?’ I hiss. ‘Like my mum?’
Jack is close enough to head-butt.
‘Your mum?’ he says. ‘Your mum? You really believe I murdered her?’
‘I don’t know how you did,’ I say, still confused by Mr November turning up alive in Clearview. ‘But I know you did.’
Jack’s eyes aren’t green or gold now. They’re a muddy swirl, as though the redness has bled into the irises. If they’re the mirrors to his soul, his soul has gone mad. He steps back and blinks off into the distance. I glance over my shoulder. His Minions look pretty spaced out. I think I’ve gotten a thousand people really stoned.
‘I didn’t murder her,’ Jack says with a sigh, like he’s annoyed he has to explain. ‘I ended her suffering. Saved you from the pain of seeing her die.’
Finally I know he’s guilty with absolute certainty. That he really deserves the worst I had planned for him. My jaw unhinges into a mocking grin. Jack’s eyes ripple with uncertainty. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen him uncertain. He doesn’t know what to make of me.
‘You did me a favour,’ I say. ‘Is what you’re telling me?’
Jack leans in, frown easing, as if he sees an opening. ‘I wouldn’t put it like that but—’
I spit in his face. ‘Go fuck yourself.’
Jack’s eyes darken. He wipes my saliva from his cheek, cleans his hand on my shoulder.
‘Fuck myself?’ he says with a smirk. ‘It won’t come to that. Not when you’ve got Evan to think about.’
I stare fiercely. ‘He’s better off dead.’
Jack smiles. ‘You don’t believe that for a second. You’ll come around to my way of thinking.’
The Last Shot Page 14