Crossings

by Ashley Capes

“I know. Is your mum safe?”

  “For now.” He paused. “And your father?”

  “About the same.” She started back toward her car; Ben wasn’t here. There was no sense of being watched, no malice in the air. Was the boneyard the place then?

  “I’d like you to come in to the station for further questioning, seeing as you’re not presently at home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because in addition to that tyre iron you were carrying around yesterday – we found a pile of what appears to be human skin in the Drummond’s basement.”

  Damn it. Idiot – of course, she’d left it behind. But the bloody kangaroo came first. Unless...had McConnell seen the skull too? It was linked to Ben, maybe he needed it? Would he go after it, if the detective had taken it? “Ah, was there anything else down there?”

  “Such as?”

  “A kangaroo skull?”

  “No. Why?”

  Good. Maybe McConnell would be safe. “Ben used to collect them, maybe he came back for it.”

  “Miss Thomas, I’m not sure what that has to do with anything but I think it’d be best if you came in.”

  “I’ll come down later.”

  “Now would be better.”

  “Gerry’s looking for me, isn’t he?”

  “Karen actually.”

  She came to a halt at her car. “Well, there’s something I have to do first.”

  “And what would that be exactly?”

  “I have to shoot a feral roo.” She hung up and put the rifle in the back, before climbing into the Holden. Time to pick up the speed. Stupid, giving McConnell a dramatic line. They’d check for her in some obvious places now. Like Swallow’s Road – but as far as she knew they were unaware of the boneyard. Though if she had to lie in wait for days, they’d have to hone in eventually, wouldn’t they?

  She stomped on the pedal and roared out of the Drummond’s and eventually back onto the main road, where she turned toward Swallow’s. Once she’d put in some distance from the property, she pulled into a truck stop – not the one where Clint had died.

  This time she kept the rifle in the backseat. No need to alarm passers-by, especially with the traffic. Holiday makers for the most part, their four-wheel drives and family car roof-racks laden with tents and kayaks – all charging back toward safer ground. The bleak yellow tint to everything was bad enough but the smoke in the air was growing heavier too. It clung to the sky like a scuffed blanket.

  It was the worst time to head out to hunt a giant kangaroo in the bush. If the threat of a bushfire wasn’t enough there was McConnell – but no-one else was going to do it. She stalked into the trees. Lisa closed her eyes but there was nothing. No sense of malice, just the hum of traffic.

  Back to the car.

  Only the boneyard left. She needed four-wheel drive for Jennings Lane; the Holden wasn’t up to it. Would Karen or McConnell be waiting at the Wildlife Centre if she tried? It wasn’t like she could just go hire a four-wheel drive. And Dad hadn’t driven for years – but maybe, if she called Robert and asked him to meet on the turn? Sent him home right after.

  He’d resist but if she insisted, Robert would have to listen.

  *

  When Robert arrived, driving the wildlife ute, she snapped the radio off. Damn it – she’d asked him to bring his own Land Cruiser. The vision of something dark hurtling into the ute flashed before her mind’s eye. Had the white kangaroo been trying to show her the future, or only a possibility? It didn’t matter. Robert would be taking the Holden home and that was that.

  Only one person in the ute so no way for the vision to come true.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “And why did you want to meet here?”

  “I can’t get very far into the lane without something like the ute.”

  “I know that, but why? What’s up there?” He handed her the keys.

  “Thank you.” She started moving her gear to the ute. Backpack, water, blanket – not that she’d need it in the heat. “I’m going to kill the kangaroo that’s causing all this trouble.”

  “You’re hunting?” His expression was one of shock. “And how do you know it’s a feral roo?”

  “I saw it the other day and it’s big.” She lifted the rifle. “I want to be prepared.”

  “Woah, wait a minute. You hate killing.”

  “This is mercy. And I don’t want anyone else to die. You heard about the tourist and the two kids?”

  “Yeah. McConnell came to interview me about it.”

  “He ask about Ben?”

  “Yeah, but I was at the shop with Kelli. Why?”

  “Because McConnell thinks he can prove I’m responsible for the deaths and Ben’s disappearance.”

  “Shit.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. If I can stop the kangaroo everything will work out.”

  “Hey.” He caught her arm. “It might not. If McConnell believes you’re behind everything... This is getting serious, Lisa.”

  She smiled. “But you don’t?”

  “No way.”

  “Thanks.” Her smile faded. If she asked, he’d stay...but that wouldn’t be fair. Why risk two lives?

  “Is something else going on?” he asked.

  “No. Just this roo. I think it’s bigger than normal. I think it killed Clint and somehow it’s behind the other deaths.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Animals can cooperate. They’ll protect each other, protect their young. You know that.”

  “They don’t organise revenge killings.”

  “I think this one does.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter what I think, does it? There’s a large, crazed animal out there that’s killing innocent people. It’s probably sick, hurt and confused. Someone needs to put it to rest.”

  “So is it organised or confused, Lisa?”

  “Please just take my car, Robert. If I’m not back tomorrow afternoon, come and find me, all right?” She held out her keys.

  He took them. “I’m sorry. At least let me give you a hand. I’ve got the .22 in the back.”

  She glanced into the trees. There was another way. She could show him the white roo and then he’d see the sheer size and believe her about a predator. Only, it was still a risk. Even if two guns were probably better than one.

  And there was still the vision.

  “No. It’s fine. I probably won’t even find anything and I’ll be back before lunch tomorrow.”

  “Bullshit, you’re worried.”

  Lisa folded her arms. She’d been wrong about him; he wasn’t going to just let her go. And if she didn’t get a move on, Karen or McConnell or even Gerry would find her. She sighed. Damn. So long as she stayed away from clearings like the one in the vision. That’d be enough, wouldn’t it? “Get in.”

  He ran around to the passenger side and Lisa took the driver’s seat. She bypassed the Holden, which she’d pulled some of the way into undergrowth – not much of a hiding place – and started up Jennings Lane. This time Robert handled the crooked gate and before long she’d crested the hill again, also managing to avoid the wattle growing over the road, enough that she didn’t fill the cab with pollen at least. It still scratched the door.

  When she stopped at the fork to the Dump Track she glanced at Robert. “I want to check the radio, then we’ll go if you’re ready?”

  “Good idea.”

  She turned the volume up. “...the wind is expected to change again around early evening and residents south of Pulla should Watch and Act, especially for ember-attacks. Districts around Yarsdale should expect to have their threat-level upgraded at short notice.”

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Robert said.

  “We’re not in danger jus
t yet.” She clenched her fist. Who was she trying to convince with that line?

  “Then we should come back and check regularly.”

  She nodded, collected the Remington and her pack while Robert pulled the .22 from the lockbox in the back. She led the way along the trail. The trees were quiet and the smoke cover had grown while they drove, it was almost enough to sting her eyes, even beneath the canopy.

  “How far?” Robert asked. He carried the .22 without a strap.

  “Not too far. There’s an old depot nearby. It’s close to something that looks like a hunting ground. And there’s something I need to show you.”

  “What?”

  “It’s easier to show you.”

  “All right.”

  When they arrived, she wrinkled her nose. In the heat, the smell of the boneyard was strong.

  “What reeks?” Robert asked.

  “Let me show you something inside first.” She dragged the door open, letting light in, and another wave of dying flesh hit. She coughed, then headed inside, flicking a torch on, this one smaller, seeing as she’d dropped the Maglite somewhere. In the open space, she stood aside, directing the torch to the white fur of the great kangaroo.

  “Is that...” Robert bent slowly.

  “She’s real. I think Ben shot her.”

  He turned back to her, one cheek lit by her torch, the other in shadow. His eyes were wide. “But no roo can grow this big.”

  “That’s what I thought at first.”

  Robert straightened, pacing out the length of the roo. He scratched his head. “How can no-one have seen something like her before?”

  “There’s some pretty remote places north of here.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “Well, the red one isn’t.”

  “Red?”

  “The other one is red. It’s just as big but it’s feral, Robert. Aggressive.” She held his gaze. “Do you still want to help me?”

  “I do.” He looked to the white roo. “Maybe we should have brought bigger guns.”

  “There’s two of us; it’ll have to be enough.”

  “What now then?”

  “We should find a good spot nearby.” She led him back outside and through the trees to the boneyard, where she gave him a moment to take in the death. He’d had two shocks, best to let him process some of it.

  He was rubbing a thumb across the grain of the rifle butt. “This is all from one kangaroo?”

  “I think so. It didn’t like me being here.”

  “I don’t like being here either,” he said. He hefted the gun, gaze roving the grey messmate and paler gum trees. “Keep a line of sight on each other, right?”

  “Right. Circle and meet on the other side.”

  He nodded.

  She slipped into the trees, moving away from Robert. The thin trails meandered around the yard. None showed recent signs of use until she reached the point where the red kangaroo fled after the attack. Tiny branches struggling to grow from the trunks of nearby trees had been crushed and deep gouges lay in the earth. Just how big were the claws?

  There was a trail nearby that led deeper into the bush – away from the Dump Track. Recent droppings, twisted and streaked with black blood, rested a little way down the trail. She turned back, meeting Robert nearby.

  “I’ve found something. I think it’s worth staking out.” She showed him the path and the pile of droppings.

  “All right. Let’s watch this point then.”

  She nodded. “Get into the trees across from me. This trail can be the point of a triangle. Let him move into the clearing.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t wait too long.” He frowned up at the haze between the trees. “That fire could charge at any time.”

  “We’ll check the radio in a little while.”

  He moved back along the edge of the boneyard. Lisa returned to a spot opposite Robert, crouching between the trees, a broad messmate at her back. If nothing else, the smoke masked the scent of rotting flesh.

  But Robert was right. Getting caught out here with a fire was suicide.

  Yet Ben – the bloody kangaroo – had to be stopped and she’d only have one chance. If she failed here he’d avoid the boneyard from then on – animal or human cunning, either way, he’d know.

  But he obviously wouldn’t stop killing either.

  No choice but to make sure.

  The day wore on as she listened for clues to the kangaroo’s return. Smoke thickened. A wind rose, even between the trees it tugged at her shirt. The taste of ash came with it. Sweat pooled in the small of her back and stung her eyes. She shifted position often, wiped at her brow and sipped from her water.

  At one point she signalled for Robert to check on the radio. When he returned his face was set in a frown as he crouched near her. “They say the wind has already changed. We could have embers here any time. I think we should leave.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “If there’s a chance I want to take it.”

  “You won’t get a chance if you’re burnt to a crisp.”

  “Just a little longer.”

  He hesitated. “Fine. But the moment something changes we’re leaving.”

  “Thank you.”

  He headed back to his side of the boneyard. She watched him settle into position then turned back to the mouth of the trail. Hurry up, Ben.

  Time dragged. She stood, moving slowly, resting the rifle against the bark to stretch. She rolled her shoulders and heaved a sigh. Her throat was scratchy. Maybe it was time to leave after all. Still no embers; but by then it would have been too late.

  Crashing leaves and branches broke the hush. She snatched the gun and dropped into a crouch, lifting the butt to her shoulder. She looked along the barrel but didn’t put her eye to the scope yet – instead she checked on Robert.

  He’d ducked out of sight. “Hope you’re a good shot, Robert,” she whispered.

  She’d never seen him shoot at any distance.

  Lisa exhaled slowly – she had to breathe. Her grandfather’s scratchy voice echoed in her mind, calm, measured. Don’t tense up. Squeeze the trigger, try not to pull it. Keep the butt off the collar, use your dominant eye. Keep the damn barrel steady.

  All the right advice but she was still holding her breath. Her lungs were straining.

  The crashing drew nearer.

  She exhaled through her nose. Sweat trickled – everywhere it seemed. She flexed her grip. Grime lay beneath her nails. Come on, Ben. Closer. The hint of a shadow loomed across the clearing, hidden by the haze. It was him; had to be.

  An ache grew in her shoulder and she swallowed.

  “Come on.”

  And then the bloody kangaroo burst into the clearing.

  Chapter 25.

  The roo slowed, huge feet scattering bones and its tail set for balance. It stood, sniffing the air, ears twitching. With the smoke growing thicker and the fire-front nearing, the kangaroo wouldn’t stay put long.

  And hopefully it wouldn’t be able to smell them.

  Lisa swung the rifle around and steadied herself. Her grip on the rifle’s forestock was sharp – her fingers were turning white and the butt was digging in. She exhaled and put her finger on the trigger.

  Hesitated.

  Could she really shoot an animal? Even knowing what it was? Was the red, corpse-like creature even an animal?

  A shot cracked the air.

  The kangaroo flinched, then wheeled on Robert’s position and started forward, a growl crossing the clearing. Another shot from Robert and the roo barely faltered.

  “Shit.” Lisa adjusted for the roo’s back and fired.

  The recoil vibrated through her shoulder and a ringing exploded in her ears but the kangaroo stumbled this time. It turned back toward her and Lisa drew the bolt between thumb and for
efinger, snapping the chamber closed and aiming for the chest.

  She pulled the trigger.

  A cloud of red exploded before the roo. It fell to the side, stumbling along the ground but not collapsing. Instead, it scrambled upright, flinging bones in its wake. Lisa ducked the debris and snapped back up, rifle raised.

  The red was heading for the treeline.

  She worked the bolt and fired again. Missed – she’d rushed it. The kangaroo continued through the echo of shots from Robert. Lisa dashed into the clearing and steadied herself, raising the gun to fire again but stayed her finger – only the dark hint of its shape disappeared into the trees.

  She needed a better shot. And with only one round left and the rest of the ammo in her bag, if she turned back to get it she’d lose the roo.

  Lisa charged toward the smoke-choked trees. Something caught her shoulder.

  Robert. His eyes were wide and he was breathing fast. “Lisa, no.” He pointed at the smoke. “It’s enough, we have to leave.”

  The wind had risen and smoke was swirling but as yet no flames were visible. “I have to be sure.”

  “We both had hits. Did you see? Some of the shots made bigger holes than normal, he’ll bleed out.”

  She lowered the barrel. “You don’t know that.”

  “I know we’ll die out here if we don’t leave. Look.” He pointed through the trees. The sky was darkening. The fire was getting too close. Chasing the beast was suicide.

  “Shit.”

  “Swear about it when we’re safe.” He pulled her toward the Dump Track. She glanced over her shoulder as they hit the dirt but the roo was gone. Ben was gone. If nothing else, smoke inhalation would finish him should the wounds fail. She tripped on a root that had clawed its way into the path but Robert caught her.

  By the time the ute loomed from the haze, she was hacking, running stooped over. Had they left it too late? Robert tossed the .22 in the back and tore at the driver’s door. Lisa slid across the bonnet and leapt into the passenger side. She slammed the door, resting the rifle between her knees, muzzle scraping the roof.

  “Come on,” Robert shouted. The ute responded with a roar, bringing the static of the radio with it. He flicked the lights on as he backed into a three point turn, working the pedals hard as smoke swirled around the windscreen. Trees twenty metres away were shrouded by pale smoke. Anything further away was lost, mere dark suggestions. Falling leaves flashed in the headlights, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.