Blood & Dust (33 page)

The hum of a distant vehicle teased at the edge of Kevin's hearing. Meg, following
him, delivering his mother's clothes despite his warning? The idea made his pulse quicken. He
glanced at Kala, but she was staring at the compound; she didn't seem to have heard the engine.

'Any idea on how to get in - without wings?' Kala asked.

'Taipan jumped the fence.'

'Yeah, well, we saw how well that worked for him, didn't we?'

'And he did something - sank into the ground, to avoid getting caught.'

'Another of his tricks.'

'I think I can do that one. In the servo, when it was on fire. I think I remember being down
there.'

The earth is your friend

'I don't spose it's like swimming? You could kind of burrow under the wire.'

'I don't think it works like that. More like an elevator,' he said, moving his hand up and down.

'Ground floor or basement, huh? Pity.' Kala's head whipped around, peering skyward. 'Chopper's
coming.'

The undulating beat got louder as the machine flew closer, coming in low. He felt horribly
exposed clinging to the windmill; below, the Commodore seemed to glow like a neon sign. Why hadn't
he bought a black car? The helicopter slowed as it approached the homestead, the sound beating at
Kevin as the machine flew almost directly overhead, then wheeled a tight arc and landed on the pad.
He tensed as the door opened. The rotor blades kept turning, slow and mesmerising, kicking up a
border of dust around the pad. Hunter got out, followed by a young woman dressed like an accountant
or something. Then Mira in her bitch suit. They ran for the house. The chopper lifted off again,
heading away from them, to the north, toward Barlow's Siding.

'Where do you think that bird's going?' Kala said.

'Blow the shit out of some poor fool, maybe. Didn't see any guns on it, though.'

'I'm sure it's the same one. I guess they all look the same.'

'Who was that girl with them?'

'No idea. She wasn't at Rocky.'

'They looked like they were in a hurry, didn't they?'

'Maybe they just flew in from the coast. Prob'ly no loo on that machine.' She laughed.

'I don't like it. I think we should go and maybe have a look from the other side.'

They began to climb down, but Kevin stopped when he heard a car rev to life: a Jaguar driving out
of the garage next to the homestead.

'The lady of the house is leaving,' he said.

'Could be our chance?'

'I dunno. Can you grab the rifle off the back seat?'

'What are you going to do?'

'I just want the scope.'

By the time she returned with the gun, handed it up to him and he'd climbed high enough to see
the homestead again, the Jag was driving out the perimeter gate.

'What's Turner up to, I wonder.' He sighted on the car, the windshield dark, the lights of the
homestead's fence casting a silhouette of two people in the front. 'If she's leaving, this could be
our shot.'

'Is that the chopper I can hear?' Kala asked from the base of the windmill. 'Or is there another
car coming?'

Not Meg, he pleaded silently.
Please, not Meg.

'I think it's the chopper,' Kala said, answering her own question.

And finally the light hit the car so he could see clearly. It was Hunter driving. And in the
passenger seat, looking right at him: Mira!

'It's a trick - Mira knows we're here!' Kevin dropped the rifle to Kala and scrambled, virtually
fell, to the ground, and ran after her to the car.

He didn't worry about showing his lights as he pointed the Commodore toward the highway. The
moon, fat and bright, was adequate, but he needed everything he could get, at least till he reached
the highway.

'Oh shit, oh shit,' Kala said.

Kevin concentrated on driving. Lights flashed in his mirrors, spurring him to push the car as
fast as he dared. Slightly faster. The arse swung in the gravel corners. The chassis crunched as
they hit dips.

They reached the bitumen and he fishtailed, rubber screeching, as he steered for Barlow's Siding.
He was already thinking of the road ahead, of where they might find shelter. An old garage at the
back of the abandoned butcher shop, the bush fire brigade's shed on the other side of town; anywhere
with a roof and walls to shield them from both the air and the road. But he couldn't think of
anywhere on this side of town.

He coaxed more speed from the Commodore and trusted his knowledge of the road to help him make
it.

A bridge came up, the dip and rise of Three Mile Creek. Not far now. Could they make the silo?
Would VS expect him to head for home where he could hide the car under the house? Was that the first
place or the last place that they'd look? Shit, he didn't even have his house keys.

They crossed the bridge and climbed out of the gully.

And drove into the sun, or so it felt.

The light blasted him, blinding all the way to the back of his head. Kala squealed, threw up her
arm to shield her eyes. They skidded onto the verge, gravel clattering against the car's underside,
steering wheel jerking spasmodically in Kevin's hands as he fought for control. They passed under
the blazing light, the helicopter's thumping beat reverberating in the cabin as the downdraft shook
them like dice in a cup. They pulled up in a choking drift of smoking brakes and dust.

'They're right on top of us,' Kala shouted.

'Get out,' Kevin told her. 'Run back to the creek. Hide!'

'I can't leave you.'

'I'll draw them away. Catch up at the silo, eh?'

'Damn it, Kev, this isn't the time for heroics.'

'So get out!'

She leaned across and kissed him, then bailed. She pulled her pistol and emptied the clip,
two-handed, at the hovering machine. It wheeled away, chased by one, two, three sparks on its
underbelly.

The darkness returned, leaving Kevin's vision splotched with bright splashes.

Kala slammed the door. The helicopter turned back toward him, but higher, he thought. Headlights
appeared in the rear windshield.

Kala was away, lost in the dark. Now it was his turn.

He hit the pedal, spat gravel, rocketed back onto the bitumen.

The chopper pulled away, the spotlight lancing down behind him, off to the side of the road,
scouring the area near the bridge.

The headlights grew large and bright in his rear window. A horn blasted. The vehicle was on his
tail. He wished he could flip the side mirrors to get some of that glare out of his eyes, but he
wasn't game to take his hands off the wheel. Not on this road with its uneven surface and
rough-as-guts drop-offs.

The lights blazed on his right hand side as the car caught up to him. The bonnet inched forward,
the silver Jaguar figure like an arrowhead, pulling level and then past until the two vehicles were
neck and neck.

Kevin glanced sideways, aware of a corner looming ahead. The Jag's tinted window lowered. Dread
gripped him in its freezing hand - a rifle? A grenade?

Mira!

Laughing.

She leaned out of the window, as though to kiss him.

Kevin swerved away, the tyres thudding into gravel. He lurched back at the Jaguar. It didn't give
ground, but kept its place beside him.

They took the corner and Kevin, on the inside, managed to gain half a car length.

Ahead, Two Mile Creek loomed. The bridge - it wasn't wide enough for both cars. He had to get
there first. Had to. That would make them fall back, maybe give him time to reach the Siding. That
was all he needed. If only he could grab the rifle on the rear seat. If only he could use it and
drive at the same time. No time for if onlys.

A yellow warning sign: Narrow bridge. No overtaking.

No overtaking.

He willed the Commodore to go faster. Its roaring engine and vibrating frame told him it had
nothing left.

Almost there. The bridge; his chance. The rev counter clocked his panic as it speared as far into
the red as the dial could go.

Rat-a-tat-tat on his window. Mira, her nails, bright, glistening, rapping on his window. Crazy
fucking bitch!

The window bulged with a crack of glass. A second punch penetrated the tint. Slivers stung his
face. Her razor nails slashed at him like shears.

Kevin jerked the wheel. The Commodore shuddered as it slipped off the bitumen. Kevin stomped on
the brake. The car slewed out of control. It ploughed across the drain, through a barbed wire fence,
then careened into a barren paddock.

Dust boiled over the car as it slid to a halt, side-on to the creek, facing the road. Kevin sat,
hands clenched on the wheel, foot jamming the brake pedal to the floor.

Silence. Then the hot-metal clicking of the bonnet. The Jag had pulled up on the bridge, brake
lights glowing through a drifting cloud of blue smoke.

Fuck, he'd almost gone into the gully.

A shape appeared in the dusky illumination of the Commodore's single remaining headlight. Mira,
cape billowing around her ankles. Grinning.

'Christ,' Kevin whispered.

She stopped in front of the bonnet, her eyes reflecting green.
Get out
, Kevin told
himself, but his muscles refused to work.
Get the rifle!
Do something!

Mira stalked closer. Cracks in the windshield made her appear disjointed. The sound of scraping
metal penetrated Kevin's daze as she ran a key, a rock - something - up the side of the car. She
waggled her nails as she peered through the window at him. 'Hello, Grease Monkey. Miss me?'

Kevin made his hands leave the wheel, unclip the belt. He scrambled for the passenger side,
desperate to get away.

'Allow me,' she said. There was a deafening tearing of metal, the car rocking, and the door was
gone. She yanked him out, hurled him tumbling on the ground. Air rushed from his lungs.

Mira leaned back against the shattered side of the Commodore as though waiting for a lift. Her
face was reduced to skull-like shadows by the harsh side light from the Jag, parked on the road to
illuminate the Commodore. There was something feline about the way she moved, inspecting her nails
as though the only damage she'd taken from smashing his car was chipped enamel.

A black cat suit sheathed her from ankle to wrist. Over it, she wore a sculpted Kevlar corset
covering her chest, stomach and back; two ridged neck guards projected from the collar like the
stubs of wings. A loose skirt almost covered her thick-soled knee-high boots. She'd accessorised
with leather armbands covering her forearms and a wide, studded collar. A silver cross swung from
her left ear. Two belts crossed her hips, holding sword, dagger and pistol. The Driza-Bone swept
about her. She wasn't taking any chances, dressed to stay out all night and half the morning;
clearly, she'd over-estimated. But he'd try to make her earn it.

Kevin staggered to his feet, clutching his stomach as pain sharpened across his chest, the side
of his head, his shoulder. Air found his lungs and he gasped for it. He glanced at the road. A
figure picked its way through the loose strands of wire fence.

Bright light blasted down on them, dust flying as the chopper hovered overhead. Mira shielded her
eyes.

The man approached, his hand up to his forehead, the other clutching a walkie-talkie. Hunter, in
his long coat and rough suit, tie hanging loose, handgun and a silver truncheon dangling from his
belt. His clothes looked slept in. Kevin couldn't remember his real name. There'd been too much time
gone by, too much blood under that particular bridge.

'No sign,' he shouted over the din.

Mira waved at the chopper, an angry cut of her hand. It seemed to nod, then arced away, spotlight
doused, leaving Kevin dazed.

'So,' Mira said. 'Where's your little playmate gone? Not Taipan, I don't suppose.' She shook her
head, considered her left wrist as though checking the time on a watch she didn't wear. 'The girl. I
liked her. Tasted kind of earthy.'

Hunter stood to one side, looking tense as he pulled the truncheon from his belt.

Mira struck.

Kevin had time for one punch, a pointless air swing. Then the ground thumped Kevin on the back of
the head, his shoulder blades. Pain speared through him. When the red flashes had cleared from his
vision, he found Mira squatting on his chest, her legs on either side trapping his arms. He jerked
his gaze to hers. Green eyes, scarlet lips, brilliant ivory teeth so sharp and white. Her nails dug
into his temples, scratched down his cheeks so heavily he expected to see blood.

'Now this is familiar, isn't it?' she said.

Her tongue lapped at his jaw and cheek. Her breath gusted hot against his ear as she whispered,
'Where's my Taipan? Where's the one
he
calls Mother?' Kevin tried to reef his arms free; her
knees ground the bones to the point of breaking. 'You like it rough, Grease Monkey? Is that it?'

She pushed his head back.

Her fangs tore into his neck.

All he could think was,
Not again
.

'No, no, no,' Mira muttered as she sat up. A thin trail of blood - his blood - trickled from her
lip. Her tongue, bright pink, lapped it up like a lizard cleaning its chops. 'You're not telling me
anything I don't already know. I'll have to go deeper if you're going to play hard to get. Tell me
where Taipan is. Where
She
is.'

Kevin's mind screamed. He used the defence Danica had shown him, locking his mind up tight.

Mira spat blood, wiped her mouth. 'You can't hide in there forever, boy. We'll have to discuss
this over a warm drink, what do you say? Reece, pass me that staker.'

A glint of silver, a tube as long as a ruler in her hand, raised up, a rocket against the sky,
and then: re-entry. She punched the tube against his chest. There was a gush of air, a thump that
left a sharp pain and a long, insistent ache. She stood, handed the baton back to Reece who twisted
the handle, removed a capsule and pocketed it, then re-holstered the tube in his belt. Kevin
couldn't move, pinned like a butterfly by that weight in his heart.