Getting Home

by Angus McLean

  ‘So you’re the new President,’ he said.

  ‘Aye. Need a team, though. You want in, I’ll give you office.’ He spread his hands. ‘Vice or the muscle, whatever you want.’

  Jake nodded again. It was pretty clear where things stood. He also doubted that, if he turned down Little Dog’s offer, he’d walk out of this room alive.

  ‘I’ll be your Sergeant-at-Arms,’ he said.

  ‘On, bro.’

  They stood and clasped hands across the table.

  Thirty-Nine

  By the time Curtis had got himself dressed, splashed some water on his face and had a piss, the youngsters had loaded their aunt’s body into the tray of the Ford F-150.

  They had her wrapped in a tarpaulin and looked to Curtis as he came back into the barn.

  ‘Wanna bury her?’ Shavaunne said, fidgeting with her hair.

  ‘Na, can’t be fucked.’ Curtis scratched his balls and belched. ‘Dump her somewhere later. Don’t wanna be connected to her if this all blows over in a few days.’

  ‘Ain’t gunna happen,’ Dice said. He leaned against the tailgate of the truck.

  ‘That right, genius?’ Curtis picked up the pump action Winchester and tossed it to him. Dice caught it in one giant paw. ‘I stayed alive so long by not making assumptions. Mostly stayed outta jail, too.’ He smirked. ‘Mostly, anyways.’

  He picked up the M3 submachine gun from the table and tossed it to Shavaunne. ‘Don’t you fuckers shoot each other by accident, right?’

  Dice pumped the slide of the Winchester with a satisfying clack-clack. He grinned and rested the barrel over his shoulder. Curtis watched as Shavaunne fiddled with the M3. She looked up at him with a frown.

  ‘How the fuck does this thing even work?’ she grumbled.

  He walked over to her and took the weapon, showed her how to cock the bolt, flicked off the safety, and settled the skeletal butt against his hip. Standing this close, he could smell her. She needed a wash but, shit, so did he.

  ‘Just point and shoot,’ he said, pointing the barrel towards the barn wall. He depressed the trigger and the M3 jumped into life, spraying the tin wall with holes as he hosed the barrel from side to side.

  Shavaunne jumped and clapped her hands to her ears. Dice jumped too, but he squeezed the trigger when he did. The Winchester boomed and birdshot blasted several more holes in the roof.

  ‘Fuck me Jesus!’ Shavaunne yelled, and Curtis let out a hoot of delight.

  ‘Keep your finger off that trigger, sunshine,’ he said to Dice, who was rubbing the side of his head where the barrel had thumped him. Never mind that he’d probably blown his eardrum, the big dumb fuck.

  Curtis dumped the empty magazine and handed it to Shavaunne. ‘Load that.’

  They secured the spare ammo for their own weapons, and Curtis loaded the extra weapons into the back of the truck beside his wife’s corpse. He barely gave her body a glance. Far as he was concerned, it had been a long time coming. Maybe now he’d have a better run at Shavaunne. That girl was hooked so bad on the smoke, she’d do anything for a hit.

  ‘Right,’ he said, turning to his niece and nephew. ‘We know where this bitch lives, right, so she’ll be heading there. If they’re still on foot they’re either there already or still on their way, prob’ly get there today. I don’t give a fuck if we get them on the way or once they get home, but we’re gunna get them.’ He eyed each of them carefully. ‘Watch yourselves though, that bitch already killed your brother, killed my boys, tried to kill you too.’

  Shavaunne nodded her understanding. Dice looked blank. He could’ve been sleeping with his eyes open or working on Pythagoras’ theory, who knew.

  ‘You see them, you kill them,’ Curtis said. ‘Unnerstand? No fuckin’ around. You go left from here, I go right. You don’t find them by nightfall, we meet at Mercer, by the gas station. If none of us got ’em, we go to their house and do it there. Got it?’

  ‘Yep.’ Shavaunne fidgeted with her hair some more, jittery like she was, and he could tell she needed some.

  Curtis reached into his bum bag and removed a gram bag. He tossed it to her and her eyes lit up. ‘Gotta pipe?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She looked at her brother. ‘Let’s go.’

  They headed out to the car and Curtis went to get in his truck, hearing a shout from outside as he was about to climb in. He grabbed the BAR and ran for the door.

  Shavaunne and Dice stood by her car, staring at it. Dice was chuckling to himself, his massive shoulders shaking, while Shavaunne looked about ready to shit a brick.

  The Skyline’s passenger side windows were blown out and the panels on that side were peppered with bullet holes.

  ‘You fuck,’ Shavaunne shouted, turning on her uncle. ‘You shot my fuckin’ car to shit!’

  Curtis eyed her coldly, the big BAR in his hands. ‘Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Shavaunne,’ he rasped. ‘Already killed one lippy bitch this morning – don’t make it two.’

  Dice stiffened ever so slightly and the air felt heavy. Curtis shifted his gaze from her to him, then back again. ‘Load up and get going,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at Mercer tonight.’

  He turned on his heel and went back inside the barn. Shavaunne threw the bird at his back then turned to glare at her brother.

  ‘Dunno what the fuck you’re laughin’ at, you dumb shit. It’s on your side.’

  ***

  The sound of automatic fire, accompanied by a louder boom, sent Gemma and Alex diving to the ground. They were crossing an empty paddock with no cover around aside from long grass.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Alex whispered, hugging the dirt.

  ‘I don’t think it was at us,’ she whispered back. ‘Sounded too far away.’

  ‘Was that a machine gun? Maybe it’s the army?’

  ‘That one shot sounded like a shotgun.’

  ‘How d’you know? Oh, of course – your husband has a shotgun.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  He looked at her, still flat on the ground. ‘Does he have a machine gun as well? Maybe that’s him, come to rescue you. Or us.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t have a machine gun.’ Gemma pushed herself up to look around. ‘He’d probably like one, though.’ She got to her knees. ‘I can’t see anything; let’s carry on.’

  They moved off, heading towards a copse of trees at the end of the paddock. A road over to their left was home to sporadic houses, and the motorway was some distance away to the right. Gemma wasn’t exactly sure where they were, but the Bombay hills rose up ahead, still a few k’s away, and she was heading for them. Get over them and she could easily navigate home. She could almost taste it now.

  A minute or so later, the sound of a roaring car engine reached their ears.

  Forty

  Spring Hill Correctional Facility was set back off the main highway, a couple of minutes’ drive from the offramp. The self-service gas station at the offramp was scorched and the bowsers were knocked over, as if there’d been some kind of explosion. Hampton Downs Raceway was to their right as the convoy headed towards the prison, the whole place looking like a ghost town.

  The convoy was led by two hogs, with a Ford Ranger full of thugs behind them. The white Range Rover came next, then another Ranger, an Audi full of heads, and two more hogs. Every man – they were all men – in the convoy was armed, and they had one plan.

  They were going to bust open the prison, no matter what.

  Jake was beside Little Dog in the back of the Range Rover, a new Sig on his hip and a Steyr between his feet, muzzle up. He had his shades on, the Bandits patch he had treasured for years, and a head full of crack. The crack was good because it made him sharp. He missed nothing and nothing scared him.

  He glanced over at Little Dog. ‘All goods, Mr Prez?’

  Little Dog grinned and nodded. ‘All goods, my bro. Gonna get the brothers out, fuck up some screws, and burn that fuckin’ place to the ground. That’s the truth, my bro.’

  ‘Aye.’ J
ake nodded and turned back to the window. It felt good to be back in his gears, riding with the boys. This was what it was all about. All the shit he’d had as a kid and growing up, the beatings, the neglect, the sexual stuff – none of that mattered no more. It was all blocked out once he became a Bandit. They wanted him and he needed them. They were his family, always had been. Always stood by him. Forever Bandits, Bandits forever. Henry had never really got it, walked his own path instead. A thug, a badass criminal, yeah, but Henry was no Bandit.

  Jake sniffed and his mind flicked back to Tintz. The cunt was dead; good. He deserved it. Jake had no regrets about that.

  ‘Coming up, LD,’ Pua said from the front seat.

  The vehicle slowed and soon they came to a stop. One of the front riders cruised back to them and Little Dog buzzed his window down.

  ‘Got soldiers up ahead, by the entrance,’ the outrider said over the loud rumbling of his engine. ‘Checkpoint or something.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘’bout four. Got guns.’

  ‘Any more past them?’

  ‘’nother one in the car park by the looks, got a army truck there and I saw two more dudes. They saw us. Might be more inside.’

  Little Dog nodded. He turned and looked at Jake. ‘On?’ he said.

  Jake nodded. ‘It’s on.’

  Little Dog turned back to the outrider. ‘Jake’s comin’.’

  Jake got out, the Steyr in his hands, and walked forward. He past the last outrider and saw the checkpoint. A Pinzgauer armoured car blocked half the road, a sandbagged chicane blocked the other, and wooden barriers were ahead of that. Four soldiers were visible, two of them with a light machine gun. The armoured vehicle also had machine guns and shit on it, way more than the Bandits could handle.

  ‘Stop there,’ one of them shouted as Jake approached.

  Jake slung the Steyr over his shoulder and put his hands up to chest height. He was out front of the boys, alone, facing The Man. The Sgt-at-Arms was a man to be feared and shit like this would re-cement Jake’s rep in the gang. Showing fear was not an option.

  ‘You the boss?’ he shouted back.

  ‘State your business,’ the soldier replied.

  ‘Come to give you an option. Come talk to me.’

  ‘State your business,’ the soldier repeated, more forcefully this time.

  ‘Oh, suck my dick,’ Jake growled. ‘I ain’t here for fuckin’ Tiddly-Winks, bro. Come talk, get this shit sorted out.’

  ‘Put your weapon on the ground. Any dumb moves and we’ll open fire.’

  Jake did so, laying down his rifle and pistol. The soldier who had been addressing him came forward now, keeping his rifle trained on Jake’s chest. He stopped a few metres away. Jake could see two stripes on his arm – Corporal. He was a tall white boy in his early-twenties. He was in full battle kit with a ballistic vest, helmet and webbing. He was weathered and looked like he knew what he was doing. The name on his chest read Schinkel. Great – a Nazi motherfucker. Nothin’ a black man liked more.

  ‘What’re you here for?’ he said.

  ‘We come to get our bros outta jail,’ Jake said simply.

  The soldier shook his head. ‘That ain’t happening,’ he said. ‘The prison’s on lockdown and we’re in charge.’

  ‘Martial law eh?’

  ‘That’s right.’ The soldier tossed his chin towards the convoy behind Jake. ‘Who you got here?’

  Jake glanced casually over his shoulder. ‘These’re my boys.’

  The soldier ran an eye over him. ‘Turn around.’

  Jake did so, coming back to face him.

  ‘Bandits, eh?’ The soldier’s lip curled. ‘You supposed to be a gang?’

  Jake bristled. The cheeky fuck. ‘You ain’t hearda the Bandits, you gotta problem,’ he growled.

  The soldier laughed. ‘Whatever, mate. Your buddies aren’t getting out, so turn yourselves around and go back to where you came from.’ His eyes hardened. ‘We see you here again, we won’t stop to talk. Understand?’

  Jake eyeballed him. ‘You’re makin’ a mistake. We don’t give a fuck about anyone else, we just want our bros out. You needa make that happen.’

  The soldier laughed again. ‘I don’t think so, mate. Don’t try and intimidate me with your bullshit. We’re the fuckin’ Army, mate. We kill people for a living.’

  Jake gave a slow nod. ‘Your call,’ he said.

  He turned and walked back, scooping up his weapons as he did so. He got to the Range Rover and went to Little Dog’s window. It buzzed down and Little Dog eyed him, his face like stone.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Not today,’ Jake said.

  Little Dog’s face went tight. ‘’ the fuck?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘They know what they’re doin’. They got bulletproof vests and all the shit. We go against them right now, they’ll mow us down. We need a better plan.’

  Little Dog scowled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The Bandits didn’t back down to no one. He took a breath and considered what Jake had said. Jake was no fool. The Sgt-at-Arms was the enforcer, but he was also the leader in battle. If he said it wasn’t on, Little Dog had to trust that.

  ‘A’ight,’ he said. ‘But we’ll be back.’

  ‘For sure, bro,’ Jake said, a hard glint in his eyes. He had never liked backing down. ‘We’ll be back, and we’ll take these motherfuckers.’

  Jake moved down the convoy to spread the word, and the vehicles slowly turned around. As they moved back towards the highway, Corporal Schinkel watched them go, a thoughtful look on his face. He turned to his crew.

  ‘Heads up, boys,’ he said. ‘They’ll be back. We see them, we shoot them. Got it?’

  There were nods and murmurs all round. Schinkel hefted his MARS-L rifle. This wasn’t exactly Afghanistan, but he had a feeling it was heading that way.

  Forty-One

  The Van Dijk’s over the road were always happy to receive visitors, and when I went over, I found Clyde and Ellette there. The conversation broke off as soon as I appeared in the doorway, and all eyes turned to me. Rusty gave a small smile and Sophie looked to their visitors.

  ‘Morning everyone,’ I said, ‘sorry if I’m interrupting anything.’

  Ellette stood, closing her cardigan over herself and looking at me stiffly. ‘We were just leaving anyway,’ she said.

  Clyde got to his feet as well and ran a disapproving eye over me. Disapproving was the only way Clyde knew how to look at me.

  ‘Is there really any need to carry that thing around?’ he said, looking at the rifle over my shoulder as if it was a snake poised to strike.

  ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘I think so.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘You know what, Mark?’ he said. ‘This is a difficult time for us all, but people like you just make it harder.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘All this violence and shooting and everything.’ He looked like he was about to cry, and Ellette wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself. Maybe it was a ballistic cardigan. ‘Normal people aren’t used to it and we don’t like it. This is not our life.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that. It’s not how it should be,’ I agreed.

  His mouth was open, ready to deliver the next pearl of wisdom, but he stopped when I agreed with him. ‘What?’

  ‘I said it’s not how it should be,’ I said. ‘If people behaved properly and didn’t go round stealing and robbing and shooting people, we’d all be much better off, wouldn’t we?’

  ‘I…I…yes, of course…’

  ‘But since that’s not the case,’ I continued, ‘people like you need people like me to keep the bad people away.’

  He pursed his lips again, pissed that I’d played him. It was an age-old argument and one that neither side would ever concede. Bleeding-heart liberals like Clyde only saw people like me one way.

  ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it,’ he snapped.

  ‘I know what you meant,’ I
assured him. ‘You want someone to cover your arse and stop the badness, but you don’t wanna see it or hear it or smell it or taste it, right? You wanna be able to live in your ivory tower of righteousness and point out all that’s wrong with the world, and talk about how terrible it is and look at those poor misunderstood people who never had a chance, the ones who were maligned by society, and harassed by the police, the ones we all sponsor through the taxes we pay from the jobs we do every day, the ones born with their hands out who just keep on taking and taking…’

  ‘Don’t…’ he started, and I cut him off with a glare.

  ‘I’m not finished yet,’ I said. ‘Those poor disenfranchised people who’s only option in life is to take from the workers? They have choices to make, same as everyone else. They can choose to be a taker and a waster and sit on their arse whinging about how unfair life is, or they can get up and get a fuckin’ job and actually contribute to society.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘And if they come and try and steal from me or hurt my family, then they face the consequences of that decision. Same as you. I don’t care who it is. And people like you, Clyde? You sleep well at night because people like me are out there. You don’t want to hear about it, but you sure as hell want to sit in judgement of us when it suits. But you know what, Clyde? Fuck you.’

  He recoiled, and a condescending look came into his eyes.

  ‘Don’t come to me for help. You have any trouble, you just sit down and have a good talk with the bad people, maybe form a committee or a review team. Don’t ask me to help.’ I tore myself away from him and turned to the Van Dijk’s, who had been listening silently. ‘Sorry guys, that’s not what I came over here for. I’ll come back another time.’

  I turned and stalked out, surprised at how angry I’d got so quickly. Guys like Clyde gave me the shits, and that would never change. I saw Bevan heading towards the Macklin house but I ignored him and kept on walking. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him right now. I had intended to do the rounds of the closest neighbours, just a quick welfare check to see how they were all doing, but my run-in with Clyde and Ellette had changed that.