Blood & Dust (20 page)

Furious, Kevin lashed out.

Taipan dodged easily. 'Settle down, fella. I did what I had to. I shoulda tasted you at the silo,
even if it ain't right, drinkin' from ya own. But who'd've thought that bloodhag would get to you so
quick, eh? Me pack has paid the price so you just be glad I don't try 'n' make up for it now.'

'You black bastard.'

'I love the way when you white pricks get upset, the first thing you find to accuse us of is
bein' black.'

'You- you did this to me.'

'And you lot did this to me. So let's call it even, eh? I gave you the curse coz ya old man
wanted me to. You wanna blame someone, blame him.'

'And he made you bite me while I was unconscious, did he? Made you take me - my life, my memories
- without even asking.'

'I had to know the truth. That's it. Jesus, fella, it ain't like I fucked you.'

'What's the fucking difference?'

'Ya arse ain't sore, is it? Listen, we're in this together, all right? I coulda left you there,
but I didn't.'

'And why didn't you? Why did you choose me over Reg, or Penny, or Kala?'

'You was nearest. I didn't know who I had till we was on our way.'

'Sorry.'

Taipan snorted. 'Luck'a the draw. What'd you want
- flowers?'

'You are such an arsehole.'

'I've heard that. Guess I'm one of them "acquired tastes". Anyway, this is the way it
is: we're stuck here till sundown. They got that chopper up in the air still. They prob'ly got the
cops in as well, doin' searches.' He stared at the empty stubby, then threw it at the wall. It
shattered. 'You want a beer?'

'Fine.' Kevin lay back and closed his eyes, seething, trying to process everything Taipan had
told him. He wanted a long shower. He wanted to know if Kala was alive or not. He wanted his life -
his leg! - back. He wanted to sleep forever and wake up at home to find all this was just some
horrible, shitty nightmare.

They spent the rest of the day in uneasy silence, listening for trouble, drinking beer and
watching nonsensical television from, it seemed, another planet: cars, hamburgers, home theatre;
holidays in Fiji.

Why do I need chemistry to look after animals, Mum? I don't understand

They'd made the headlines, but the story on the television didn't seem to be the same incident
they'd survived. Charred ruins and body bags, no sign of anyone they recognised - VS being camera
shy. Road blocks in place, the stern reporter said, the survivors armed and dangerous but no
descriptions.

Kevin thought, 'Beware of strangers bearing guns', but he didn't say it out loud in case he
spewed.

Cheap T-shirts, clubs with pokies and $15 steak nights.

Taipan kept watch in case the police came doorknocking and Kevin struggled to stay awake, afraid
of re-entering Nicola's short life while his injured body cried out for more.

Celebrity marriage, celebrity divorce, celebrity tits.

They sat in silence, waiting for the day to end.

They lost time going through the bush to get clear of the town, and then rejoined
the road going west. Kevin sat behind Taipan, his mind blank, mostly healed hand holding on tight,
his wounded leg itching like a dog with mange. He didn't realise anything was wrong - anything new,
at least - until Taipan pulled the bike up at the end of a long straight. Kevin raised his head for
the first time since they'd hit the bitumen. Moonlight painted the barren paddocks in shades of
grey. A creek cut across the flat in front of them. A road sign indicated a bridge ahead. Two police
cars blocked it.

'I can see four of them coppers,' Taipan said.

'Can we go round?'

'We don't have time for that. I wanna be a long way aways from this place come sun-up. Nup, we
gotta go through.'

'Jesus, Taipan, they're cops.'

'They're workin' with VS. That makes 'em the enemy. Reckon you can ride this?'

'With one foot? I can't work the shifter.'

'I'll leave it in first. Can you do it or not?'

'Sure, I guess. What are we gonna do?'

'Just drive on up to them mob and keep ya head down. Wouldn't wanna lose that other foot, eh.
Gimme a few minutes, then act all distractin-like.'

Taipan ran off and was quickly lost in the scrub. A light showed in the distance - a homestead,
perhaps. Kevin counted the time but lost his way when images of Nicola's wrist watch surfaced.

Happy birthday, sweetheart.

His leg was in constant pain, but his ribs had eased to being merely annoying.
Having to hold the clutch in wasn't doing his injured hand any favours. Damn, but he was hungry.

Taipan appeared next to him, shocking him so much he almost stalled the bike.

'What're you waitin' for?' Taipan demanded.

'Where-'

But Taipan was gone, as instantly as he'd popped up.

Kevin took a breath. He'd had a gutful of Taipan. If he could've, he'd have turned the bike
around and left the biker to make his own way to - to wherever. But that was hardly an option, not
now; especially when he couldn't even get out of first gear. The Kawasaki jerked forward as he
released the clutch, the bike revving under his inexperienced hand on the throttle; it felt as if
the machine wanted to throw him off, resenting such ungainly treatment. When he got closer, he
turned on the headlight, keeping it on high beam to try to dazzle the cops. One waved a fluoro
baton, indicating he should pull over, and then the cop dropped it and ran to crouch with his mates
behind their vehicles, the glint of barrels unmistakable. The thought of being shot made Kevin's
skin itch. His leg throbbed as though it had caught fire. He crouched low over the tank and
concentrated on keeping the bike upright.

The police car lights rotated blue. A cop with a megaphone commanded him to stop. Kevin weaved
his way toward the roadblock at a crawl.

'If you don't stop now, we will shoot,' the cop shouted, anxiety clearly audible through the
electronic buzz.

Taipan appeared amongst the cops. He sliced the throat of one, kicked a second into next week. He
ran at the other two. One fired a shot, a dying reflex as Taipan felled him with a blow to the neck.
The fourth he pinned from behind and drained.

Somewhere nearby, a dog barked.

Kevin wheeled over and shut the bike down, using his good leg to hold the machine up. It wasn't
as if he could kick the stand down. He concentrated on the machine, anything to distract him from
the bodies.

'You need a refill?' Taipan asked.

'Nope.' His body protested, but he was having enough trouble filtering out Nicola's life. Just
how much blood could he possibly drink?

'Could be your last chance before we get where we're goin'. You need the fresh stuff, keep that
leg gettin' better.'

'I can't,' Kevin said, 'not like this.'

'That Kala, she's a bit of all right, eh? It ain't always like that, fella. Gotta take it where
you can.'

Kevin choked on the stink of urine, blood, gunpowder. 'I can't.'

Taipan turned his back and pissed a stream.

'So what was that trick - popping up and then doing the vanishing act? You got some kind of
teleporter or something? Like in
Star Trek
?'

'Get real, fella. That shit ain't real.'

Taipan zipped himself up, then threw a collection of pistols and spare magazines into a
saddlebag.

'Well, how did you do that?' Kevin asked.

'Black magic,' Taipan said, tapping his nose. 'Shove over. I'm drivin'.'

Kevin bit back a curse. What he wouldn't give for a straight answer. He made room on the saddle,
dodged Taipan's boot as the biker mounted.

'What about these blokes? You gonna just leave them here - like this?'

'VS can clean 'em up. They woulda radioed in for sure. We gotta make miles. A lotta towns to go
round between us and where we gotta get to.'

Taipan revved the bike into life, cancelling any further conversation.

Kevin sat back, preferring to use the sissy bar on the back of the seat than hold on to Taipan.
After a while his thighs ached from gripping the bike. He felt giddy with the pain in his leg and
the memories of Nicola.

Iraq is a country in the Middle East. It has been a fucked-up mess ever since the
overthrow of Saddam Hussein

She had thrown the textbook against the wall in disgust, wishing she could be in Rockhampton with
her father. Kevin knew just how she felt.

Taipan had, whether by good fortune or good planning, grabbed Penny's rugged road
bike to make their escape. The Kawasaki was a sleek blue-and-silver hybrid with a generous fuel tank
and top suspension. Its off-road capabilities were put to the test when they had to dodge more
roadblocks and town centres, cutting across paddocks and negotiating scrub, taking to dirt roads and
cattle tracks where necessary. Fuel was their major worry, Taipan leaving Kevin in the dark while he
bought or siphoned petrol. Between towns, Taipan kept the bike red-lining, relying on his superior
reflexes and pure skill to keep them on the road and out of the way of stray livestock and potholes.

No matter how far they went or how fast, the disaster at The Farm rode with them. They didn't
speak any more than necessary. Kevin couldn't blame Taipan for hating him - it had been Kevin who
had led the gunship to their hideout and he felt terrible about that, very aware he was sitting on
Penny's bike, that Kala might be dead or a prisoner, that all those people he knew might be dead,
too. But Kevin hadn't asked for this and hadn't known any better. Taipan had to share the
responsibility and he'd admitted as much. Maybe the biker was considering that, too. Maybe that was
the real reason he had the throttle open, the engine whining. Guilt wasn't so easy to leave behind.

Rolling, brown hills became increasingly flat; dusty-green trees increasingly sparse. Sagging
barbed-wire fences lined the road, somehow containing the grey Brahman and red Droughtmaster cattle
that dotted the paddocks like headstones. Fallow fields lay scratchy with stubble. The details of
the inland landscape emerged from the pre-dawn darkness as the eastern sky started to lighten. The
fuel gauge was showing fumes and there didn't seem to be a town within coo-ee. Kevin's nervousness
grew. They were dangerously close to being out of petrol and out of night. Not a good combination.

They passed a set of stockyards, the loading ramp leaning and overgrown, and Taipan changed down
until they were at an idle. He ran the Kawasaki off the bitumen onto a barely visible gravel road.

'Hold on,' he warned, the first words he had uttered since the last fuel stop. The bike juddered
over an overgrown grid of steel rails. It was all Kevin could do to keep his seat.

Taipan steered the bike along the winding track. On the other side of a rise they came across the
ruin of a homestead, its iron roof splotched with rust and holes, its walls bowed after years of
neglect. They drove toward a shed tucked away amid a thin stand of timber. Its warped wooden walls
looked as though they would have fallen years ago were it not for the net of lantana holding them
up.

Taipan leaned out and opened the rickety paling door just enough to wheel the bike inside. He
turned off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening after hours with the motor, the road and the
wind.

'We'll spend the day and see if we get any visitors, eh,' Taipan said, glancing toward the sky.

Kevin slid off, hopped to the door and pushed it shut. He was in a shed big enough to house a
tractor. Hessian bags hung across the gaps in the walls. He stayed at the door, propping himself
against its flimsy support, waiting to see what Taipan was up to, the darkness lit only by the dusty
beam of the bike's headlight.

The biker stepped off and stretched. Kevin held his breath. A distance of perhaps three steps
separated them. If Taipan wanted to get rid of Kevin or simply take out his frustrations, then this
was a good place to do it, here in this dilapidated, anonymous building. No-one would ever know.
Taipan moved. Kevin steeled himself, but the biker stepped away to an obscure pile of stuff covered
by a tarp. Kevin scanned for a weapon. A loft hung low at a crazy angle at the back, likely to
collapse with the next dust cloud under its load of cobwebbed, nondescript machinery. Under the loft
were a few musty hay bales, some drums and crates. Even if there was something Kevin could use, he
had no hope of dodging the biker to get to it.

'Gimme a hand, eh,' Taipan said. 'We gotta shift these drums here.'

Kevin paused, waiting for a trick. Then said, 'sure', and hopped over to where Taipan manoeuvred
drums. Kevin did his best to help, using the drums for support as he heaved them along.

'They're full,' he said, bemused yet again at his own strength. 'Fuel?' He didn't really need to
ask. The smell was obvious, raw against the hay and dust.

'Yeah. One of me stashes.'

Kevin didn't reply, feeling stupid.

'Stop ya worryin'.' Taipan groped around on the floor, unconcerned about exposing his back.
'Things've gone to shit, that's for sure, but it ain't ya fault. I'm not sayin' I like you any more
than I done before, and I think you're too soft most of the time, but I ain't gonna kill you, if
that's what you're afraid'a. Now, get some rest. I don't think VS will foller us out here, but this
is as far as we go till we know for sure.'

'Why wouldn't they?'

'We're goin' bush. That mob don't last too good out here.'

'Aren't you scared that Mira will trace me? Even with that necklace - can it stop her from
getting inside my head? Sending that chopper after us again?'

'They ain't hit us yet. Nah, I figure we slipped the noose. Can you sense her, anythin' at all?'

Kevin shrugged. All he felt was pain in his foot and a general cloud of despair.

'That bloodhag might have some idea - prob'ly why it took'em so long to find us, eh. Maybe had to
fly right over the top to know for sure. Maybe even then, they just let that rocket off on spec, out
of frustration-like. Maybe they was fed up with Bhaggy - who knows how that mob thinks?' The biker
pulled up a trapdoor, causing a wave of choking dust to roll across the floor. 'You can sleep in
here, fella.'