Wyatt - 06 - The Fallout (26 page)

Wyatt tracked more surely and
swiftly now. He began to listen and watch for larger signs such as quail
disturbed from the grass, black cockatooos screeching from the tree-tops. It
was clear that Steer had not climbed to the rim of the gully but was heading
parallel to the creek, making for the next thicket of stringybark and
blackwood. Wyatt noticed dark, kicked-up soil; the lighter underside of grass
revealed among the darker surface that faces the sun. He encountered
obstaclesa quartz reef, fallen logs and a tributary of the creekwhere he lost
the trail and had to gauge how Steer would reason his way past. Hed find the
trail again, press on, knowing that he couldnt afford to take short cuts or
try outguessing Steer, for backtracking would waste precious time.

Fifty metres short of the next
thicket, he came to a depression in the ground and saw that Steer had rested
there. Something gleamed wetly. He bent to look. Blood spots. Was Steer
wounded? Had he cut himself? Wyatt climbed out, preparing to follow Steers
tracks into the trees, and noticed that Steer had changed direction. He was
heading up and out of the gully after all.

Wyatt thought it through. He was
wasting time following Steer like this. Steer might keep running, he might stop
and set a trap because he was wounded, but either way hed be expecting Wyatt
to come in behind him. As Wyatt saw it, he had to get ahead of Steer and ambush
him.

He broke cover and weaved along the
creek toward the trees. He ran through them, dodging branches and leaping
rotten logs, and found himself at a culvert on a muddy backroad. The road told
him where he was. If he went right hed eventually reach the coast highway. If
he went left, hed climb out of the gully to the top of the ridge somewhere
behind his house. He knew hed find Steer there. If Steer had come by vehicle,
that would be there too.

Still running, Wyatt scrabbled
through a fence and up the embankment to the road itself and followed it
uphill. It was a road subject to poor water drainage and he stumbled often on
the deep red ruts and washaways. At the top the going was easier, and he came
upon an old F100 ambulance parked under a screen of trees, low branches
touching the roof. Wyatt watched, and when he was satisfied that the van was
unoccupied, he ran to the glass in the rear doors and peered in. Empty but for
a red vinyl bag and a PVC cylinder.
That
has come a long way, he
thought. When he peered through the drivers window he saw torn wires around
the ignition.

He straightened from the window,
formulating an ambush. Steer would be hyper-cautious as he approached the van.
Hed search the trees, then the interior of the van itself.

Suddenly Wyatt heard a footscrape,
heard Steer slide free of the tangling branches down onto the van roof,
swinging the assault rifle at him like a club. That explained Steers failure
to shoot. His clip was empty or the firing mechanism had jammed. Wyatt fired
his last bullet uselessly at the sky as he thought these things and then Steers
rifle smashed against his temple and compounded all the hurt and damage of the
years.

Later, when he stirred again,
blinking at the light and daring to move, he saw that the sun was high in the
sky. He turned onto his side. After a while, he levered himself to a sitting
position, letting the front wheel of the van hold him upright.

Bang, bang, Steer said. Youre
dead.

Wyatt waited for the tilting world
to right itself. He felt too weak to stand. It occurred to him that this was
how he might die one day, his backside in the dirt, at the hands of a man like
Steer.

What was Steer waiting for? Did he
want to spell out his grievances first? Unprofessional, Wyatt thought.

He blinked and focused. Steer was
opposite him, almost his mirror image, seated on the ground, his back to a
tree. He had Wyatts empty .38 in his lap, and when he saw sharpening
intelligence in Wyatts eyes, he raised the .38 and pulled the trigger, once,
twice, a third time, a series of dry clicks. Bang, bang, he said, as if hed
been playing this game all through Wyatts blackness, wanting him to wake up. Bang,
bang, he said. Youre dead, and he coughed blood and began to fall.

Wyatt watched. He saw Steer topple
onto his side, stretch, arch his back, and apparently die. Hed been gut shot.
The blood had seeped into his clothing, darkening a huge area around his waist.
Wyatt wondered about that. He put it down to a lucky shot through the bedroom
door. He felt tired. He heard whispering footfalls in the grass, possibly the
wind, and lay himself on the damp, rotting leaves to wait for Liz Redding, or
possibly sleep, to claim him.