Blood & Dust (37 page)

They scrambled through the rails, buzzed by bullets but unhurt as they huddled behind the thick
timber.

'That's a lot of open ground to cover,' Acacia said with a wave at the Sandman, so close but yet
so far. 'Be nice if we could take that chopper instead; fly out in style.'

'Could you fly it?'

'I might be a bit rusty, but sure, I reckon. Kala, how we lookin'?'

'Troopers are sneaking up; I got 'em staying shy but we won't last long here.'

'How's the girl?'

'I'm okay,' Meg said, her determination pushing up through the concussion.

Back at the house, jackals hunched at the rear corner; others sniped from the window they'd fled
from. Mira and Hunter and a squad of jackals in vests and helmets thundered on to the verandah.

'We are completely screwed,' Kevin whispered.

Acacia winked. 'Oh ye of little faith.'

The lights went out.

Voices rose, sparked by the blackout. Then came the sound of a generator starting
up, the chugging getting louder and more rhythmic. Lights flickered, glowed, blazed.

'Something moving, out past the fence,' one of the jackals shouted.

'About time,' Acacia muttered. 'But if he's brought Cassie with him, I'm gonna kick his arse from
here to Cairns.'

Kevin peered past the brightly lit mesh, and he saw what the jackal must've spotted - a speckled
mass moving in the gloom.

Quickly resolving into a herd of cattle.

A stampede.

'Bush tucker,' Kevin whispered.

Two gunmen at the gate lowered their guns and ripped a series of bursts into the herd. Some
animals dropped, some fled, but the main body stormed onward, a ram of flesh and bone that hit the
gates like a Mack truck. The guards scuttled clear. The mesh held for a moment, and then the gate
tore loose and crashed to the ground in two misshapen sections. The cattle scrambled over and around
mangled carcasses as they streamed into the compound. Behind the bellowing and the gunfire came the
sound of motors. The two guards at the gate collapsed inexplicably. Over the cacophony, Mira's
shout: 'This is it, get to it, bring me that black bastard.'

Bikes appeared among the tail end of the stampede, and then a Jeep with its lights out. Teams of
two on the bikes, Mohawk and Lions among them, the pillions spraying bullets, and the Jeep lit up
with muzzle flashes as though it was hung with Christmas lights.

Hunter and a man in leather sprinted for the chopper.

Acacia handed her pistol to Kevin. 'Cover me!' She ran after Hunter.

Kala fired toward the house, working her way from one group of gunmen to the next.

Kevin raised the handgun. He felt a strange shift inside of him, the inherent knowledge
bequeathed by Taipan and Kala and even Mira guiding his instincts, on top of the few occasions he'd
had to handle pistols. The first shot put a jackal down as Mira's troops spilled along the veranda
rail and down along the front fence. Explosions thundered and flared as the jackals returned fire.

'Damn it, they're coming, I can't hold them,' Kala said.

Two jackals at the back of the house sprinted toward them, a big gap between them. Guns sparked
from the window. Chips flew from the fence.

'Back to the garage,' Kevin said, dropping one of the charging men. The other went to ground.
'Go!'

Kala and Meg crabbed backward. Kevin's magazine clicked empty. He ran, chased by gunfire, and
slid into shelter at the open doorway of the garage. His spirits lifted. The Jag!

'Flat,' Kala said, kneeling at the corner, snapping off shots. 'Back tyre. Even if we could get
it started.'

And no sign of Meg's Suzi. Kevin checked for Acacia. He couldn't see her, but there were two
mounds near the chopper.

Taipan's attack had bogged down, a confused riot of gunfire and cattle and vehicles.

'Gimme the keys,' he told Kala. 'I'm going for plan B.'

'You'll never make it.'

'Oh ye of little faith.' He bolted, a mad zigzag. He was near the chopper when a bullet smacked
his leg out from under him and he tumbled in the dirt.

Part of the house exploded.

Pieces of timber rattled down.

The Jeep ploughed across the battlefield like a deadly turtle, covered in slabs of metal
sheeting. The word "Ned" had been painted on the front. Taipan drove; someone Kevin didn't
know manned a machinegun bolted to a mount on the roll cage, and Hippie hefted a bazooka. They'd
dropped their gunmen off to spread out across the yard, finding what cover they could behind
saplings and machinery, the bodies of dead cattle. The raiders were pouring fire into the house,
scattering Mira's troops. Everyone had come, he thought. All of the Night Riders. Everyone but
Danica herself and Cassie maybe.

Hippie fired again and a section of fence erupted in flame and noise. Had he taken the bite,
Kevin wondered? Was Hippie on the night shift now?

By the dying glare of the explosion, he realised it was Hunter and the pilot on the ground
nearby. The rotor was moving with painful slowness. That black cockatoo knew her stuff!

He had a moment of indecision: back to the garage with Kala and Meg, or to the chopper, or to the
Sandman? No gun meant he was useless to Kala; equally so with the chopper. But with the Sandman, he
might run distraction; he might do more than simply wait to be airlifted out of this mess. Who knew
- with the chopper putting down some serious kick arse, he might even be able to get to his mother.
Stick to plan B; Kala and Meg were waiting for him.

Keeping low, he staggered on, and managed to reach the Sandman without taking any more wounds. He
spared a sorrowful look for the Monaro - if only he had the keys - but the panel van was more
practical anyway.

A revving engine caught his attention and he watched as Mohawk's motorcycle raced past the house.
The pinion fired from the hip. Two jackals manning a machinegun fell under the barrage. The bike
disappeared around the far corner, only to reappear shortly after, followed by an almighty explosion
from behind the house. A mushroom of smoke rolled above the roof line; a drum arced high, trailing a
streamer of smoke like a weird flare. The lights along the fence, on the chopper pad, at the house:
all died. Darkness flooded the battlefield and this time there was no generator to resurrect the
light.

We're really gonna do this
, Kevin thought as he reefed open the Sandman's door. They'd
wipe out Mira's bunch and get his mum and drive home or even fly home and everything was gonna be
just dandy. Somehow, everything was gonna work out okay.

Making the most of the darkness and confusion, Taipan's men advanced toward the homestead. The
remaining two bikes scribed misshapen helixes as they laid down fire. Kevin blinked away memories,
loud and fear-stained, of the attack on the service station. Over the top, the whoosh of Hippie's
bazooka blended with his memory of Molotovs exploding.

He told himself to concentrate. To get into it. To do his bit.

Kevin edged the Sandman forward, just in time to see one of Mira's jackals stand up by the thick
lintel post at the gate. The man bowled, nice action, smooth. It was as if the guy was a sorcerer
casting a spell, because no sooner had he finished his toss and ducked back behind cover than there
was a blast of flame, and Lions' motorcycle was lifted and thrown. The rider and gunman were hurled
in different directions. The motorcycle landed all out of shape, its front wheel in the air, turning
pointlessly. The pinion hit the ground and didn't move.

Two jackals ran out. One was shot down but the second reached Lions where he was trying to pick
himself up out of the dirt. He turned in time to see the swing that severed his head from his neck.

That started the hat-trick for Mira's team, and Kevin could only sit and watch in stunned despair
as his team's attack was torn apart.

Mohawk came roaring in. Timber flew from the gateposts as bullets ripped into it, but the bowler
was hunkered down, fully defensive. A jackal rose from behind the carcass of a bullock and swung, a
massive pull shot, blade flashing in the uncertain battlefield light. As neat as you please, he
lifted Mohawk's head and knocked the pinion from the saddle. The bike drove on under the influence
of the dead hand till it realised it was rudderless and spun out. The head bounced along behind. The
jackal stabbed the injured pinion to death.

A rocket flashed and the swordsman vanished in a blast of flame.

The Jeep was still in action. Hippie loaded again as Taipan brought them in closer to the house.

The bowler at the gate sent another delivery down. The Jeep jumped over a tongue of fire. Hippie
tumbled clear and lay still. The vehicle trundled on, smoking from the nose, hit a crater and
toppled sideways. A long green box bounced near Hippie's body and the lid flipped open, as though
he'd brought his own miniature coffin. Taipan rose, groggy. He grabbed the tube Hippie had loaded
and hefted it. The jackals opened up. He stood in the hail, valiant, an armourless Ned Kelly figure
till finally the weight of lead bore him down. The rocket fired off, up and over the house, the
explosion coming distant and wasted as Taipan lay in the wavering light of the burning Jeep, a
huddled shape barely moving.

The bowler shaped up once more to deliver the coup de grace, but there was a blowtorch whoosh and
both he and the gate were reduced to nothing as the chopper evened the score.

But Kevin knew the game was done. They were out of batsmen and there was nothing for it but to
leave the field. The chopper was out of the question. The paddock was way too dangerous. Already
Mira's men were fanning out, encircling the Jeep and advancing warily on the hovering chopper.
Bullets sparked on its windshield and body. It wouldn't be able to take that punishment for long.

He floored the Sandman, tyres spitting dirt as he carved around the windstorm where the chopper
was advancing at little more than head height. It was up to him to get Kala and Meg to safety. It
was up to him to save his mother.

Shit!

Mira stood silhouetted as the homestead burnt, pointing at the van, and men near her swung
around.

The chopper's guns stuttered, and streaks of light sped from the nodules on either side of the
machine to scythe down Mira's jackals. The chopper rose higher, belched flame and smoke. A rocket
blew the homestead's front steps to pieces. Had Acacia been aiming for Mira? Had she got the bitch?

Fuck: his mum was still in the house.

By the time he reached the garage, the van had been pinged; he had a bullet in his gut and cracks
webbed the windshield. He all but fell out the door.

'Acacia can't land for us,' he gasped to Kala. 'You'll have to drive. Drive like a fucking
demon.'

'What about you?'

'I'm not leaving without Mum.'

'There's a difference between suicide and bravery, y'know.'

'She's my mum.'

Kala gave him her pistol - 'You're down to maybe six, last mag' - and kissed him, pushed Meg in
toward the passenger side as another burst of gunfire rocked the wagon. 'I'll wait at the silo till
dawn. After that-'

'The gorge,' he said. 'If not there, the gorge.'

'Be at the silo,' she said.

Meg reached for him. 'Kevin - aren't you coming, Kev?'

'I can't. You have to go with Kala and be safe. I'll catch up soon as I can!'

Kala slammed the door, gave him a desperate look, then accelerated away. One jackal, reeling out
of the smoke and shock of a nearby rocket hit, got clipped by the van and was thrown aside with a
heavy crunch. Acacia did what she could to keep the jackals' heads down. The vehicle swerved around
a dead bullock. Bullets sparked on its rear doors, then it was clear of the gates and vanished into
the night.

Near the blazing jeep, Taipan staggered up and waved at the chopper. It hovered low, dust and
smoke whirling in its vortices. A four-wheel-drive drove out from behind the house, a jackal firing
from the passenger window. The chopper swung, fired a rocket that blew the vehicle to hell. Another
rocket followed, hitting an outbuilding, and a third, throwing up a geyser of earth and flame near
the corner of the homestead.

Taipan jumped, clung to the skid, and the chopper flew forward and began to climb.

Mira jumped from the veranda and sprinted toward the Jeep.

Kevin fired at her. Three shots and the pistol clicked empty. Mira kept running. He swore. No
chance of getting to her in time, even if he wasn't wounded.

Taipan dangled from the skid like a possum under a wire as the chopper flew toward the fence, its
engine noise rising.

Mira dug a tube from the green box thrown from the Jeep

Even got us a splinter to stick in their eye in the sky

and raised it to her shoulder and pointed it at the chopper. The tube belched fire.
A swirling line of smoke traced the missile's path. The helicopter exploded. Once, twice. The second
fireball engulfed the machine. Taipan vanished. Rotor blades speared off into the night. The wreck
dropped like a cut elevator in a mass of flame and twisted metal.

Kevin stared, unbelieving, and realised there were jackals, not many, but enough, spreading out
from the house. A couple of people not in uniform were spraying garden hoses at the burning house.
Mira stalked the battlefield, pointing with her distinctive sword and shrieking, 'Find them all. I
want their blood. All of them.'

Kevin sheltered by the garage wall.

Jackals approached, checking bodies, shining torches. Some wore bulky goggles. He didn't think
they'd seen him yet, but it was only a matter of time. He stripped and hid his clothes behind a
stack of ceramic pots heaped along the inside wall of the garage, then dropped to the ground.

Driven by desperation, Kevin called to the earth. Taipan's blood sang in his body, a didgeridoo
wail; his heartbeat was measured by clap sticks. The voices of men were buried by the calls of
birds, the crackle of flames, the sigh of wind and the groan of layers of ancient rock. Gritty
warmth closed around him and he felt a moment of suffocation, of entrapment, but the didgeridoo
played louder and the blood surged and the sounds faded to a gentle whisper of welcome and he was at
peace in the dark embrace. Time stretched out behind him and ahead of him and through him. He felt
Taipan inside of him, a phantom: