Crossfire (15 page)

‘What are you doing, Luke? Get out of the way!' Wayne bellowed. He shifted to one side so that he could sight once again on Alison without Luke's body in the way.

‘You move, Alison, and I'll blow you away before you've taken two steps, Luke or no Luke,' warned Wayne.

Alison had more sense than to move: she recognised very clearly the risk she would place Luke in if she did.

Luke eased himself across to block his father a second time, and when he moved again, Luke followed.

‘Luke, stop it,' snapped Wayne and with an irony that might have brought laughter had there been no gun in his hands, Alison seconded the demand.

‘Luke, stay out of it.'

‘No!' shouted Luke, defying both of his parents. For almost a minute he stood between them, Wayne having decided it was undignified to keep shifting about and Alison maintaining silence in case she jeopardised her son. It was Wayne, his slender patience eroded by alcohol, who acted to break the stalemate. Without warning, he flipped the rifle in a flashing arc, sending the butt crashing against Luke's ear. The blow was measured and accurate: while it left Luke sprawled on the carpet, it did no more than stun him. The field was clear now for Wayne and Alison to continue their gambling on the brink.

Alison was outraged. ‘How can you do that to your own son!'

Wayne silenced her again by waving the barrel menacingly.

But Luke wasn't finished. Still dazed, he picked himself up and swayed back into the no man's land between his mother and father.

Alison couldn't contain herself. ‘You don't deserve to have a son with this much courage, Wayne Aldridge, even if he is a fool to stand between us like this. Barely a teenager, yet he's more a man than you are. ‘Armalite Aldridge', they call you. Just look at yourself. Is it any wonder your son doesn't want to have anything to do with you?'

‘No, no,' cried Wayne in genuine distress. Alison's new attack cut at him in a way he couldn't stop. ‘Luke, Luke, it's going to be okay. Don't listen to her. We can still be mates just like before. Say it. Say it.' Wayne was begging, desperate that Luke should not reject him.

Luke was confused. His ear and his lip throbbed and he was finding it difficult to keep his balance, but suddenly he knew what he wanted to say. ‘Dad, you've got to give away the guns. No more rifles, please. Then it'll be okay.'

Wayne stepped back as though Luke had struck him. He stared down at the gun in his hands with horror in his face. ‘Alison!' he roared. Then again, ‘Alison, you've done this!' He firmed his grip on the rifle and shouted at his son. ‘Get out of the way, Luke. Get out of the way for the last time.'

‘No!' Luke shouted.

Alison screamed, then reached forward and hauled Luke backwards, pulling him off-balance until he toppled onto his backside in front of her chair. Now Wayne had his clear line of fire and he snapped the gun to his shoulder, taking aim quickly before Luke could get to his feet and interfere again. Alison, emitting a series of piercing shrieks, had curled herself into a ball on the chair, holding out one futile arm against the impact of the bullet she anticipated at any instant.

There was no more time for argument, for shouting, for angry abuse, no more time for heroics, nor pleas for reason. For these three people a single room was the whole world, and for a moment it was swept into a whirlwind of fury with Wayne standing at its centre. Within that frenzied moment, he fired.

There was a tremendous roar as the gun discharged, made all the more terrifying by the confines of the room. Alison continued to scream, the short, piercing screams of one who is afraid to take stock, to see what is real. She was sure she had been shot and that these terrifying moments of consciousness would be her last before the pain and the blood gushed in and she watched her life slip away.

On the floor beside her, Luke stared up at his father and met his gaze of horror and fear as the man turned towards him. The rifle swayed to and fro, swinging Luke into the line of fire then out again. But Luke knew what had happened and he felt no fear. At last the gun clattered to the floor, as though Wayne's hands were unable to support its weight any more. Wayne Aldridge stared down at the weapon for a few moments then turned and fled. Luke felt the house shake as his father hurried down the front steps. Seconds later he heard the panel van roar into life. Revving furiously, it pulled away into the street.

Luke lay on his back on the floor, staring at the wall behind his mother. ‘Mum!' he called. ‘Stop screaming. He's gone.' This barely interrupted Alison, so he called again. ‘Mum, he didn't shoot you, it's okay!'

This time Alison stopped. Leaning forward in her chair she stared down at her son, who still could not raise himself from the floor.

‘He shot a bloody great hole in the wall,' he said, pointing lazily to a spot a few feet above his mother's head. Then, peacefully and quietly, Luke Aldridge began to laugh and to cry.

First published 1992 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
Reprinted 1994, 1996, 1998, 2000, 2001, 2002
This edition published 2007

www.uqp.com.au

© James Moloney

This book is copyright. Except for private study, research, criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any foram or by any means without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Typeset by Peripheral Vision

Cataloguing in Publication Data
National Library of Australia

Moloney, James
Crossfire

I. Title.

A823.3

ISBN 9780702236273 (pbk)
ISBN 9780702239526 (pdf)
ISBN 9780702239557 (epub)
ISBN 9780702239533 (kindle)