I turn Prince sideways so Nathan and I can both look back down the road. There’s no need to panic. The chopper could be a dozen kilometres away, flying west to east, not the slightest threat.
‘Searchlight!’ Nathan says.
We all see it.
It’s hard to tell how far away the chopper is. But it’s easy to tell it’s heading our way and following the road we’ve travelled.
Tajik clicks on his flashlight, keeps it aimed at the ground.
I turn Prince around too quickly and he whinnies and Nathan tilts in the saddle behind me.
‘Careful!’ he says. ‘Danby, I nearly fell.’
‘What are you doing?’ I say to Tajik. ‘Turn off the light.’
‘Follow me,’ he whispers. ‘Stay calm.’
Tajik angles B-Lo up a rocky embankment and into the gum trees.
‘C’mon,’ I say to Prince, trying to keep cool, and Nathan and I lean forward as the horse follows his cousin’s trail beneath skeletal branches. This patch of bush doesn’t seem nearly dense enough to hide us. I hope the chopper’s too far off to see the flashlight. What really worries me is that Jack’s up there in the cabin and bringing us back to the centre of his radius.
‘Okay, off !’ Tajik says.
Somehow he’s dismounted, has B-Lo’s reins in one hand, is holding Evan steady in the saddle with the other. I swing off, Nathan jumps down and together we hold Evan as Tajik ties both sets of reins around a tree.
When Tajik clicks off the torch, we can still see each other because the chopper’s spotlight is sweeping up the grey road and strobing through the scraggly green canopy.
We scramble behind a toppled gum. I prop myself over Evan and pull my rifle from my shoulder.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The black helicopter’s a venomous wasp, beating the road with its wings, following the scent of breath and blood, propelled by an awful instinct to sting the life from the living. That’s how I see it, buzzing closer, hovering over the surfer’s four-wheel drive, rotor blast stirring wet leaves and searchlight swivelling to scour the landscape.
The horses rear and pull against their reins. Any second now they won’t be shadows. They’ll be brilliantly lit: saddled, tearing at their tethers, demanding investigation.
My safety’s off. The chopper in my sights. It could end here and now if Jack’s on board. The moment they set down I’m going to fire. In the corner of my vision Nathan and Tajik hold the same shooting stance.
Heart pounding, I pull night air through flared nostrils, and the flood of oxygen and blood dilates my senses. Every atom vibrates, energy arcs through me and into my finger as it closes around the trigger. It’s that feeling of being so alive again. A total head and body rush.
‘C’mon,’ I say. ‘C’mon.’
The spotlight swings our way, stops just short of the horses—and swings away again. The chopper straightens and surges above the treetops. Nose tilted down, the enemy machine thunders away in its halo of light.
Darkness settles.
B-Lo and Prince snort and shudder.
Anger washes through me. It could’ve been a chance to kill Jack. Finish this.
Truth is I probably would’ve shot at a bunch of Minions. Signalled our location to Jack. Brought death down on us. What scares me is a part of me feels cheated anyway. Stop the flight. Start the fight. Go down guns blazing. Get death over and done with. I don’t want to think that way. Not when I’ve got Evan and Nathan and Tajik depending on me.
But I can’t help it.
Even Tajik surrenders his calm and gulps air like he hasn’t been breathing.
‘Holy shit,’ whispers Nathan. ‘I thought that was it. You okay, Danby?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Just restarting my heart.’
And trying to clear my mind.
Tajik switches the flashlight on, keeps it down low and goes to calm the horses. We watch him in silhouette, patting their noses and pulling up grass tufts for them to eat. It’s a long time before they settle.
My mind spirals out to the Revivees, scattered across the dark landscape to our south. Most are asleep, flailing about as their troubled dreams overlap, a surreal swirl of dementias that instantly gives me motion sickness. I snap out of them and into the windows of the few who are awake and watching the streets and skies, excited that ground or air transport will soon arrive to whisk them to safety, frightened that me and Nathan and our desperados might appear to kill them before that happens. Their delusions make me a different kind of sick. I take a drink of water and pass the bottle to Nathan. My own fantasy escape to Refuge Island’s looking better and better.
Tajik waves us over. ‘Slowly,’ he says. ‘Please.’
Nathan and I carry Evan gently. Prince nuzzles me. Tajik pats B-Lo.
We climb back in the saddle and ride back to the road.
‘Were you about to open fire back there?’ Nathan asks from behind me.
Busted. My gut turns. He must’ve felt my killer vibes.
‘Another second or two,’ I confess, ‘I was gonna shoot.’
‘Oh my God, me too!’ Tajik says, turning to look back at us. ‘I’m glad I’m not the only one.’
I smile and lean back into Nathan a little. ‘Were you all cool hand Duke or whatever?’
‘Uh, not so much,’ he sighs. ‘I actually pulled the trigger.’
‘What?’ Tajik and I say at the same time.
‘I hadn’t put the safety off properly,’ Nathan says. ‘The chopper flew away as I went to fix it.’
For a second there’s only the clop of hooves on the road. Then we’re laughing, not caring if we’re heard, guffawing so hard we have to hold the horses still for a moment.
‘You almost-ah-ah—’ I say.
‘—got us killed,’ Nathan finishes in my ear.
‘Safety first!’ Tajik cries.
We bwa-ha-ha-ha all over again.
When we’ve settled, Tajik leads us off.
The mood is lighter. Maybe it’s because we’ve realised Nathan’s human error is the only reason we’re not all dead now—and how goddamned random that is. Maybe it’s because on some level we think we’re not just lucky but invincible. All I know is that crying with laughter is so much better than just crying.
‘So, what would be great?’ Nathan says.
I’m not sure what he means.
‘Before we were rudely interrupted. You said something like, “You know what’d be great?” ’
I tell Nathan and Tajik about my beach. The hot sand, the cool water, how the sun seems painted in place in the cloudless sky. I can hear the gulls, taste the salty air.
Nathan sighs and then tells us about the various ice-cold drinks that’d be served to us in the hammocks strung between palm trees.
Tajik adds a beach hut serving freshly caught and cooked seafood.
We’re up to seaside mansions, a fun park for Evan, a cinema showing classics and a bowling-alley cum roller-disco by the time we halt the horses at the sign for the Bull Ridge Road turn-off.
‘Is this the way?’ Tajik asks.
The longer the night has gotten and the heavier my eyes have become, the harder it is to visualise the phone map.
‘Sure is,’ I say, like there’s nothing more certain, not wanting to burst our little bubble. ‘This is it.’
Bull Ridge is a back country route that wends through farmland. While the start of the road is flanked with gum tree windbreaks, our flashlights soon play out across fields that are so big and empty that they seem to stretch forever.
‘Turn the lights off for a second,’ Nathan urges.
We drop into sombre darkness.
‘The horses can’t see like this,’ Tajik says.
Wait for dawn and we’ll be stranded in the open. Use the flashlights in these flatlands and we risk giving ourselves away.
‘Shit,’ says Nathan. ‘Okay.’
We keep on by the light of rifles and torches that we hold so low it’s like we’re asking the earth t
o absorb evidence of our presence.
Even though it’s dangerous out here I can’t help being lulled by the clop-clop-clop of the hooves.
My head droops forward, jerks back up.
‘Uh-uh,’ Nathan says. ‘Stay awake.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You know what we need?’ he asks.
‘What’s that?’ I murmur.
‘A nice big jetty. Somewhere to moor our superyachts. Maybe some jet skis.’
I appreciate him trying to keep me awake by keeping the beach-escape dream alive.
‘Windsurfing,’ I say. ‘Always wanted to try that.’
‘Really?’
‘No.’ I laugh. ‘But why—’
‘Chopper,’ Tajik says.
A smile forms on my lips and I’m about to say that a helicopter might be a good thing to have for island hopping.
‘Shit,’ Nathan hisses in my ear. ‘Light off, Danby.’
I snap my torch off.
A white light slides silently through the sky far to our north. It’s so far off I can’t hear the engines.
A thought occurs: it’s not a chopper at all—aliens have arrived and they’re about to be really disappointed. Another idea follows: the Snap’s been triggered by space invaders to cripple us and Jack’s been body-snatched as their vanguard leader.
My next thought: I need to wake up to myself and reality. I shake my head to try to chase out my dreamy exhaustion.
Now we hear it: blades. This far away it sounds like purring.
‘Keep going, you bastard,’ I whisper, my earlier bravado gone. ‘That’s right, nothing to see here.’
The light slants down, briefly glows across sloping hills and then disappears behind them—or seems to.
‘No torches yet,’ Nathan says. ‘Let’s be sure.’
He’s right. They could’ve turned the searchlight off to see if anyone switches their lights back on. I squint to see if I can make out red tail-lights and strain to hear engine noises on the breeze. There’s nothing.
‘Okay?’ Tajik asks.
‘Let’s hope so,’ I say.
We click on our flashlights.
Tajik urges B-Lo forward but I hold Prince steady.
‘Wait a sec,’ I say.
‘What’s up?’ Nathan says in my ear.
Beside us a big four-wheel drive sits high off the road.
‘Is it just me or is this the first car in a while?’
Tajik brings his horse back.
‘I think you’re right,’ Nathan says.
We shine our torches on the powerful off-road machine.
Not crashed, not smashed. Sitting mightily, like it owns the end of the world. The passenger side window is open. Best I can see it’s empty—as empty as the road ahead of and behind us.
‘Should we try it?’ I say. ‘This road’s the clearest we’ve seen. There’s no one around to hear.’
‘If we drive with parking lights,’ Tajik says, ‘it won’t be any brighter than the torches.’
Nathan cackles. ‘If I stay on this horse much longer, I can count myself out of the repopulation race. My junk is so goddamned sore.’
‘Too much information,’ I say.
We set Evan on the back seat of the car and let the horses graze on the verge.
The car’s empty. But there aren’t any keys in the ignition—or in the dash or the console or on the floor.
‘Anyone know how to hotwire?’ says Nathan.
Tajik and I shake our heads.
I play my flashlight across the paddocks and along the road ahead.
‘Be careful,’ says Tajik. ‘The chopper could be watching.’
‘Hey,’ Nathan says. ‘Where are you going?’
Rat eyes shine briefly but scatter as I walk towards the body slumped against a fence post. He’s just a kid, a few years younger than me, not old enough to drive. Still wearing earbuds. His phone has fallen from fingers that’ve been gnawed to the bone. I picked it up, click the greasy buttons, whisper ‘On’—but nothing happens. I drop it and nearly throw up when a plump rat squirms from under the boy’s bloodied shirt and slithers into the weeds. Breathing through my mouth, trying not to feel like I’m also vermin in this equation, I rummage in the front pockets of the kid’s jeans. They’re wet, mushy—and empty. So much for me being smart.
‘Anything?’ Nathan says, close behind me.
I straighten and shake my head no.
‘Good try,’ he says. ‘C’mon.’
Then I see the metallic glint in the weeds.
After I’ve wiped them clean of blood and fur, Tajik slips the car keys into the ignition. We look at each other as he tries the ignition.
The engine rrrr-rrrrr-rrrrrs but doesn’t catch.
He has another go with the same result.
My guess is the kid did what I did. Tried to flee in a family car. Made a better go of it than me. Stopped here when his mind got too scrambled to drive. Blasted the stereo until the battery died. Staggered off on foot with his music player. Didn’t get far.
‘We could try one of the properties,’ Tajik is saying, looking out into the darkness. ‘Maybe find another battery or even another vehicle.’
‘It’ll take too much time,’ Nathan replies.
Tajik considers. ‘Maybe but we could at least hide. It will be getting light soon.’
Nathan shakes his head. ‘We’ve got maybe twelve hours until Evan’s awake. Could be even less. We can’t be inside the radius. We have to keep going on the horses—as much as it hits me where it hurts.’
‘We should keep checking cars,’ says Tajik.
At the rear of the four-wheel drive, I pause and offer a silent plea for any kind of break. I lift the hatch.
‘Yes,’ I say under my breath. ‘Yes.’
Whoever owned this car was organised. In the luggage compartment, secured with bungee cords, are two plastic tubs. In one, there’s a picnic basket and blanket for impromptu excursions, along with first aid and tool kit. In the other, there’s a bottle of water, jumper leads and a portable charger like the one Mum needed to carry because she was forever leaving her Jeep’s lights on and running down the battery.
‘Guys,’ I say. ‘Check it out!’
‘Are you okay?’ Nathan says, as he and Tajik scramble to join me.
We hug and jump up and down like kids.
Under the raised bonnet, Tajik hooks up the cables to the battery terminals.
In the back seat, I hold my torch so we can see my little brother as Nathan checks him with the stethoscope.
‘How’s he going?’
‘He’s okay.’ Nathan pulls his medical satchel from the backpack. He takes a syringe and uses it to suck up the last drops of anaesthetic. ‘This is the end of it. Evan’s gonna wake up later today.’
‘Ready or not?’ I say.
Nathan smiles grimly as he gently injects my little brother’s bicep.
Tajik climbs behind the wheel, looks back over his shoulder.
‘Fingers crossed,’ he says and turns the key.
The motor doesn’t chucka-chucka-chucka—it purrs to life as the stereo blares Inner Station and the headlights flare and scare off the rats that’ve gone back to the kid’s body. Tajik kills the hip hop and high beams and we’re left with the wonderful hum of the engine and a clear road glowing yellow in the parking lights.
‘Quarter tank of petrol,’ Nathan says, looking at the instrument panel. ‘That’ll get us a hundred kilometres at least. It’s four fifteen. Nearly two hours till dawn.’
Holy shit. This is it. We’re gonna make it. Ten minutes. Maybe twenty. We’ll be out of the radius. But I’m see-sawing inside. I can’t believe we’re nearly there. That we’ll get away. I want to laugh and cry. ‘Let’s go,’ I say. ‘Quick.’
‘Hang on,’ Tajik says. ‘We need to take care of the horses.’
He’s right. We pile out. Nathan and I collect the reins and Tajik takes off saddles and removes bits. I look at the car’s red tail-light
s smouldering in the exhaust.
‘Okay, go,’ Tajik says, clapping his hands. ‘Go.’
B-Lo and Prince mosey away a little. But they startle and scarper when I crack the butt of my rifle hard into a tail-light and smash plastic and glass onto the bitumen.
‘Danby!’ says Nathan. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack!’
Tajik looks at me wide-eyed as I bash in the other tail-light.
‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘but we don’t want them to see us brake, right?’
I’m not taking any chances.
Tajik drives. Nathan rides shotgun. I’m in the back with Evan. Windows down, guns on the landscape, our eyes and ears everywhere for the chopper’s return.
I glance over Tajik’s shoulder at the instrument panel. The car can go three hundred kilometres an hour. We’re doing one-tenth of that speed, unable to risk going any faster when driving almost blind, but it still feels fantastic. When the sky brightens just a little we’ll be able to double our speed safely. We should be out of the radius in well under an hour.
Nathan smiles over his shoulder at me. I beam back at him. Then what we see beyond each other has us wide-eyed and gasping.
Tregan and Gary, having been woken by Damon and led through a maze of air force base corridors, stand in the doorway of a vast hangar.
Wow, is what they’re both thinking.
Nearest them are dozens of stretcher beds, each with a patient hooked up to an IV. Some are awake, eating or reading, while others are asleep or unconscious. Casually dressed men and women check charts and change drips in efficient silence.
‘Who’re these people?’ Tregan asks.
‘Base personnel,’ Damon says. ‘There’s more in the infirmary. Quite a few are already up and working. We saved a lot of good people. Pilots, engineers, technicians, comms experts. It’s expertise we’ll need.’
As much as Gary is impressed by the medical stuff, he’s transfixed by the fighter jets parked along the length of this of huge space.
‘Man,’ he says. ‘There’s some airpower here.’
Damon nods. ‘These and the long-range transports outside will mean we can make contact with other cities, states, even other countries.’
The Last Shot Page 27