Heroes Don't Travel

by Roo I MacLeod

  Max fastened the mask to his face, released the air from the cylinder and relaxed into the padded chair. The hiss from the cylinder woke the child. Big wide brown eyes watched Max while its fingers rubbed at the cloth. Twice he blinked before the mouth stretched open and a shrill wail shattered the room’s ambience. The door opened and a young girl rushed in, stick thin arms clutching the child to her breast as she ran from the room.

  Wynona followed the girl, Spike falling in beside her once she left the room. ‘We done?’ Spike said. ‘This place is creepy. There’s a dude taking pictures of kids in nappies and they’re a bit old to be wearing nappies.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘I don’t wear nappies. I wear padded pants and I use the toilet during the day. It’s just the nights I get wrong. You try living at the camps and shitting on the bog they call a toilet. There’s a creature down that hole that bites.’

  Wynona placed an arm about the boy’s shoulders and bumped him into the wall. ‘Yeah, we’re done. The house is creepy. But thanks for getting me inside.’

  Outside, Wynona fitted her skull helmet and fired the Ducati 695 into action. Spike jumped on the back and shoved his hands into the pockets of Wynona’s leather jacket.

  ‘Hey, Harry says you and Wolf grew up together like family, but that can’t be right like, can it?’

  ‘I got abandoned, left in woods by my parents. Wolves took me in and raised me. Why’s that so hard to believe?’

  ‘So you orphan like me?’

  ‘Yeah, but instead of a Weismann and the camps, I had a pack and the woods.’ She turned and smiled at Spike.

  ‘Yeah right, we think you taking us for fools.’

  A face appeared at the bottom window of Max’s house. A bald head watched as Wynona offered the engine some petrol. A child, bare-chested, jumped at the man and clung to his neck.

  ‘Dead creepy, that place,’ Wynona muttered.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Prison Pete Knows the Way

  Stars spread out across the black night. A light breeze played within the trees and rustled the dead grass lining the narrow road. The dog sat snuggled in Pete’s left arm, its legs twitching and pawing at the ground. Pete rested against the cold flat face of a large rock, half a hay bale cushioning his head. In his right hand he held a pipe puffing a fruity scented smoke into the cosmos. Sheep stood about his campsite and the Alpacas guarded the bottom of the hill.

  Not a half hour back, Pete had witnessed a car accident. Squeals of tires struggling with the first bend alerted him to the car’s speed. The car bounced off a tree as it hit the straight stretch of road with a loud crunch of metal, but the speeding truck travelling in the opposite direction offered the car no options. The sports car’s bonnet crumpled and the car rebounded into the grass verge. Two men climbed from the truck as a flatbed vehicle arrived from the rear. Pete missed the following events as it took him an age to organize the sheep. When he crept to the trees lining the road, the first flame flickered in the cold night. He assumed the occupants had escaped, but three loud gunshots confused the issue.

  Pete crept closer to the road once the two vehicles had departed. Bright flames reflected on a face slumped against the window in the back. Pete knew first aid, but the tag on the anklet said No. The exploding car knocked Pete backward. He shuffled closer to the road calling to the dog for backup. It hunkered low, barking and growling. The sheep bleated frantic noises and fled to higher ground. The blaze spread across the road and the vehicle slid into the gully opposite Pete’s fence.

  He looked at his phone, concerned a burning body might not constitute an emergency. He decided to send a text to his warden. Car Crash. And offered a sad face emoji. ‘It’s not like it was my fault,’ he said to the ensemble of animals. ‘And only trouble can come to me if I try to get involved. How many times have they told me to just look after you guys and keep me nose clean? Don’t go wandering, just watch the sheep.’

  A couple of pipes later, a convoy of trucks approached the crash site. They stopped well short of the ditch hiding the car and a figure stepped onto the road. Another body joined him and they pushed through the brush on the side of the road.

  ‘Pete.’ His voice boomed in the quiet night. ‘It’s me, Griff.’

  Pete approached the fence, the dog bounding ahead and jumping at the big man. The Alpacas morphed from the dark and brushed their faces against his shoulder. Griff accepted the licks and returned the affection. He offered the dog a good scratch and ruffled the long Alpaca necks.

  ‘What you doing out this time, Griff? You having trouble with that Nellie? She don’t like the lambing, does she?’

  ‘Bless you, Pete, but Nellie’s lambed. Nellie didn’t come out of it too well, but I’ve got a healthy little fellow snuggled up with a bottle.’

  He pushed his hands into his waterproof jacket. ‘Pete, we’re going to blow up the Smiths’ place.’

  ‘Why you want to be doing that? They’re mad, those Smiths are. They’ll set their dogs on you.’

  Ben stepped with care through the scrub, stepping over the wire fencing. Pete kept back, eager to embrace Ben but scared of the man. Last time they’d met Ben hit him over the head with a gun and dumped him in an open grave. His skull still felt sore.

  Ben nodded at Pete. ‘Tommy’s locked up in the Smiths’ house,’ he said. ‘And we need to get him back, eh? You up to getting me close to the house while these guys blow some stuff up. We’re hoping the explosions will act as a diversion and I’ll be able to have a good look around.’

  ‘Sure, Ben, of course, as long as you don’t bop me on the head again.’

  Pete reached out his hand and Ben accepted, matching the big man’s tight grip. ‘I’m doing better, Ben.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’

  ‘I know what I did was wrong and not an accident.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I thought it was a bit rude tying me up in that grave, but…’

  ‘Maybe, but someone needed to stop you hurting those boy scouts, eh? I thought waking up with one of your victims might bring home the hurt you were causing.’

  ‘I guess so, but that little tyke was an accident. He said I could have the badge, but then he didn’t give it to me.’

  Ben shook his hand free of Pete’s tightening grip. ‘Have you seen the vicar?’ Pete asked. ‘Only he hasn’t been to see me since I’ve been working as a shepherd. I know he’s busy and all, or maybe he’s sick or even dead? But if he isn’t any of those, I don’t understand why he hasn’t called. He didn’t come to my trial either.’

  ‘I can’t help you there, Pete. The vicar wasn’t one of my favorite people. I believe he’s moved away from Ostere, but when I get back, I’ll make some enquiries, eh?’

  Pete followed Griff and Ben back to his fire. The dog organized the sheep and the Alpacas remained on guard. Pete collected firewood on the climb and stacked the fire so the flames roared and the wood crackled.

  ‘You know the dogs won’t like the explosions and if the Smiths let them out we’re going to be in big trouble. We’ve got no chance then, Ben.’

  ‘Why’d they be doing that?’ Griff said. ‘It’s late to be letting the dogs out. They’d be running for miles from the explosions anyway.’

  ‘Don’t know, well maybe, but just saying some strange shit goes on at the Smiths’ house and we don’t need to be upsetting them.’

  ‘Okay, so we factor the dogs into the plan,’ Ben said. ‘But can you get me close?’

  ‘Yeah, I can get you to the shed Abe’s hiding out in. It’s upwind of the pens, you know. It’s the only reason they didn’t find Abe. He’s looking for a ride out of here. Remember, I told Tommy about him. He wants to get back to Ostere, coz he’s got family there, he has.’

  A voice called from the first truck.

  ‘We got to go,’ Griff said. ‘It’s time to do what we do best.’

  Ben turned to Pete. ‘How long to get to the house?’

  Pete turned to his scattered
flock, the dog watching the big man with his head cocked to the side. ‘It won’t take us that long,’ Pete said. He looked at Griff, his shoulders hunched. ‘But you can’t be blowing up their vans.’ Pete hesitated. ‘Ben, the Gypsies, they’re not nice and I don’t want to upset them. It makes no sense.’

  ‘Pete, they’ve got Tommy locked up in that house on the hill. I’m not asking you to do anything except take me there under cover of dark. Once these guys have created Armageddon, then we can get Tommy and Loubie out of the house. They don’t need to know of your involvement.’

  ‘Who’s Loubie? Do I know Loubie?’

  ‘She’s the new slave girl behind the jump at the Poet. You’ll like her. She’s a bit like you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s fucked in the head, but she’s worth saving.’

  ‘Ben, the Gypsies beat me on a regular basis. They steal my sheep and that gets the wardens angry and they like to beat me too. It’s a game for them young Gypsies, like something to do on a Friday night. They beat me more than the prison guards do, for real. They’ll know I had something to do with this shit and come looking for me. They can get real angry, they can.’

  A howl broke the night, and a cacophony of barking followed. The Alpacas hissed, and Pete’s dog offered a low growl.

  ‘Wolves and dogs,’ Pete said. ‘I’m going to lose sheep tonight and that means big trouble for me.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Ashes to Ashes

  Pete and Ben traversed the first hill with the dog pushing the flock of sheep before them. Excited yelps erupted each time a lamb escaped and Pete’s whistles echoed up and down the valleys.

  Ben grabbed Pete and pointed at the dog running a wide ring around the wooly beasts. ‘We can’t lose the sheep, can we?’

  ‘No,’ Pete said. ‘There are wolves in these hills and sheep is what they eat. If I lose sheep, I lose this job. I like looking after the sheep. And did I tell you what the wardens-’

  ‘Yes, I get it, but they’re not coming into the house with us?’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. Me and the sheep are stopping at the shed Abe’s hiding in. I can’t go no closer, Ben. If my anklet goes off they send the dogs to fetch it back, you know, so… I’ll park them in the last paddock, next to the pigs. I worry about the pigs, but so long as I can hear if the dog barks, then they should be safe. I love my sheep, Ben.’

  Ben punched him on the arm as they progressed along the track. ‘There’s someone for everyone, eh?’

  The night loomed black as they stepped into the icy waters of the brook meandering along the border of the prison and the Smiths’ property. A strong breath of wind caught at Ben’s hood and ruffled his hair. The chill breath, combined with the icy water, sent his body into an involuntary spasm.

  ‘Me and Abe had to hide in this river the other night.’

  ‘What were you hiding from? This water is cold.’

  ‘That Abe was being chased by the Smiths, a pack of dogs and two pigs. The pigs would’ve had us if we hadn’t got our heads wet. Serious Ben, we had to hold our breaths and get under the water. Pigs have got real good noses. Abe was scared the Smiths were going to feed him to the pigs.’

  ‘I told you about Abe didn’t I? He’s the man who crashed the van with all those children locked inside. He’s the bloke hiding in the shed at the Smiths’ property. He’d have run by now, but he’s cut his leg up bad, he has. That’s why he needs a lift. He thinks the Smiths will kill him if they find him, because it was their van of children he smashed up.’

  Pete helped Ben up the muddy bank. ‘Tommy said he could catch a lift back to Ostere with you guys.’

  Pete grabbed Ben’s arm and pointed at the white house sitting proud at the top of the hill. A shed sat to the side of the building, clinging to the slope of the hill. ‘That’s the shed Abe’s in and the house to the left is the Smith’s place. I’m not supposed to cross the river, coz that’s the border of the prison farm, but the tag doesn’t go off. It doesn’t go off up by the sheds either. That Abe is in the first shed. He’s hurt bad he is.’

  A large white van accelerated as it pulled clear of the shed. Headlights shone on two tall men and a small, rotund lady holding dogs by their collars as a barking pack followed the truck.

  ‘It’s not good, the dogs being out. Over there…’ He pointed at a line of trees leading away from the house, ‘is the pigs.’

  A light shone beyond the house. The silhouette of a truck showed against a thick copse of trees.

  ‘What was that?’ Ben said.

  ‘I don’t know. That’s all trees over there. That isn’t Smith land.’

  ‘It’s not the Shepherds is it?’ Ben asked. ‘They didn’t tell me where they were going to attack from.’

  ‘It’s another farmer, I guess.’

  ‘Farmers out tending their flocks at silly o’clock, is what you think?’

  ‘I guess so. I’ve never noticed before. It’s just a load of trees up on that hill. The Smiths keep funny hours and the little Smiths like to nick my sheep any time after midnight; I never get any sleep. Serious, Ben. I’m so tired most mornings, I can’t wake up.’

  ‘It’s a long way from the house for the farmers to be launching an attack. Do you think that’s how far back you need to be safe?’

  ‘Safe from what?’

  ‘Pete, the blokes from the Hangman are about to unleash Armageddon while I’m searching the Smith house. If they’re doing it from the hill all the way over there, then I’m going to be in danger, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know. Maybe you shouldn’t go into the house. If the Smiths catch you in their house they’ll feed you to the pigs. For real, Ben. They’re not nice, the Smiths. And I’ve never seen them feed those pigs. They got to be hungry.’ He touched Ben’s arm and nodded. ‘Serious.’

  The white van revved as it turned from the sheds to the driveway. It growled and free wheeled down the bumpy path, easing to a stop at the gate to the road. A body jumped out of the passenger door to open the gate.

  ‘And what’s in that van?’ Ben asked. ‘We’re buggered if it’s Tommy and Loubie, eh? Or Lucas.’

  ‘Why’d Tommy be in the van? That doesn’t make sense.’

  Light flashed again on the hill beyond the farmhouse. ‘There it goes again. My tag doesn’t allow me to go beyond the sheds.’ He pointed to where the lights had shone. ‘I mean the woods are up there, and there’s the river. Maybe it’s Griff.’

  The white van turned out of the Smiths’ property and headed right, making for the main road to Henwell. Two men and the rotund lady, each holding dogs, walked back to the pens by the farmhouse.

  ‘We need to check out the shed first,’ Pete said.

  The pair attacked the hill to the shed. The wet grass kept their trek slow, the incline testing their legs.

  Ben fell against the shed wall gasping at the cold night air. ‘Fuck me,’ he said. ‘Got to give up the cigarettes, eh?’ He peered around the side of the shed at the white house and moved to step inside, but Pete grabbed his coat.

  ‘Wait, Ben,’ Pete said. Pete leant back against the rough wood, gasping and coughing. ‘I got a heart condition.’

  ‘You just fat, Pete. Some people are born fat. Me, I was born bean pole skinny, eh. Long and clumsy me mum used to say.’

  Ben dug his lighter from his front pocket and struck the flint. The flame flickered and shadows bounced against the warped walls. Bundles of hay covered the back of the shed, straw littered the dirt floor, and an old crippled tractor sat in the front right corner.

  Wheezing hard at the fetid air inside the shed, Pete gripped Ben’s arm. ‘Abe, it’s us.’ A head rose from a low wall of hay bales, the yellow flame showing a small white face with blood smeared across the forehead. ‘That’s Abe,’ Pete said. ‘How you doing, Abe? This is Ben.’

  Pete sat down on the hay and Abe pushed himself to a sitting position. ‘I’ve been better, Pete. They’ve just had a truck in here loading it
up with kids. I thought I was a goner, no kidding. There was dogs sniffing about that fox scrape over in the corner of the shed. They was digging and yapping and I thought I was dinner, no kidding. But they loaded up and that old bird, the fat one you reckon is Mrs. Smith, she give them a whack, and they shut up quick.’

  ‘What kids?’ Ben asked.

  ‘There was a shed full of foreign kids unloaded earlier. I didn’t realize they was here at first they was so quiet. But they’re gone now.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Mines, they was saying.’

  ‘The kids spoke English?’ Ben asked. ‘I thought you said they were foreign.’

  ‘The men were talking about mines. There’s trouble somewhere and they need bodies for grafting.’

  Ben took a look outside the shed. The dogs had settled down in the pens, but the shed was surrounded by sheep. ‘Pete, I’m out of here. Unless the Smiths are blind, your sheep are giving our position away.’

  Pete joined him at the door. ‘Shit, I’ll move them. I might get Abe back to the fire. You’ll take him with you, eh? He isn’t a prisoner. He just needs a ride out of here.’

  ‘Yeah, fine. Just get them sheep away from here.’

  Ben ran across the front of the paddock housing the metal pig huts. The dogs went into attack mode as he neared their cage. He skirted to the back of the house, away from the angry din raging in the dog pen. The backdoor flew open, crashed against the side of the house and he ducked low. The lady stood in the doorway, backlit by pale yellow, holding a whip. She yelled for quiet and cracked her whip, the sharp sound sending the hounds scurrying and groveling to the ground.

  The back windows revealed a load of dark. He tried to open them, but years of painting had locked them tight. Ben jumped over a wooden hatch and stopped at the back corner of the house. A shout stopped him short and he flattened his body to the wooden building. A gunshot reverberated in the night. Ben inched forward, his body keeping tight to the wooden wall. The first caravan, white and weathered, sat on the right side of the driveway, buried in knee high grass. Two large, dark figures ran across the driveway heading for the vans occupying the left field. On Ben’s right a silver caravan sparkled in the light shining from the top floor of the house. Frilly curtains hung across the windows and a white picket fence surrounded its manicured lawn. On the far side of the property, beyond the river, the light flickered within the trees.