by Brynn Kelly
Tia’s leg throbbed, blood soaking her jeans, filling the puncture wounds. She closed her hands around her calf, which only cranked the pain from red hot to white hot. Whoa, so not the kind of wound that liked pressure. She eased off, blood dribbling over her hands.
“Jeez, she got you good. Gotta work on her people skills, eh? I keep ’em right on the edge of hungry so they don’t lose their fight. Keep ’em remembering they’re working dogs.”
Just what brand of psychopath was he? As Jaws chewed, Shane hooked a leash onto its collar.
“Who you dropping off kayaks for? You got hikers coming through? Three of ’em?”
Three? Shit. He hadn’t seen Cody? She’d been alone when he’d opened fire.
The longer she stalled him, the more of a head start Cody would get. She surreptitiously checked her watch, pretending she was inspecting the wound. Eleven minutes until 1800.
“I’m flying a big group of kayakers up in a few days. Had to spread out the load.”
“Yeah, you’re not gunna be now, are ya?” He laughed, as if it was a shared joke. “You found that guy, eh? That weirdo German, or whatever the fuck. I went easy on him. He went quick. Shoulda seen what I done to his missus.” His head bobbed in a self-congratulatory nod.
Oh God. She had to know if the woman was alive. “What did you do?”
“Oh, we just had a bit of fun, eh?”
Her forehead prickled. His voice held no malice. He wasn’t taunting her—it was the conversational tone of a passerby who’d stopped to change a stranger’s tire.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t keep the fear from her tone.
“Bit of a game. Cat and mouse. Well, dog and mouse. It’s what I do—get rid of the guy and have a bit of fun with his missus. Hunt her like with the pigs—send the dog to find her, weaken her, then go in and finish off. You’ll see, later. Not that I’ve done it heaps, not yet. Only, like, four so far.” He sounded apologetic, as if he was humbly underplaying his achievements. “Five, soon.”
Not if I can help it. The pain had eased to a throb, giving her a beat of respite between pulses. Would she even be able to walk?
She’d be able to kayak.
Four so far. “Where are the others? The other three?”
“Ah, they’re all up bush. Possum food. Wait, do possums eat meat? Hey, might be good to give ’em a taste for it, eh? We could stop ’em stripping the trees, get ’em going after the pigs and goats. You should see the damage they do, up the valley. We gotta do something about that shit.”
“Totally agree. Tell me where and I’ll report it to the rangers. Maybe you could help us cull them? I bet you’d be good at that.”
He tilted his head, considering. “Nah, it’s okay,” he said finally, as if turning down a favor.
She chewed her lip. He seemed eager to talk. Too much time alone? The rock bank curved behind her like a sheer amphitheater. She couldn’t climb or run or fight, but she could stall until Cody got away. “Your name’s Shane, right? I’m Tia.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember you, course.” He looped Jaws’s slack leash around a tree, secured it and sat with his back against the trunk. “Pigs are pretty good hunting—they really fight ya,” he said, like she’d just asked a question on the topic. “Especially if you use the knife and the dogs, not the AR. They’re a bit of fun. Stags, nah, too big a target, too easy. Just, boom, and it’s all over. Most animals ’round here are no fun with guns, unless you wanna go after birds, but they’re mostly natives so I leave ’em alone. Just the hawks coz they’re Australian—and they’re fun when they fall.” He made a spinning movement with a finger, emitting a low whistle. “I’m basically one of them, like, greenies.”
“A greenie?”
“Yeah, you know. Saving the environment and shit.”
O-kay. “You know your dogs are killing kiwi?”
“Yeah, yeah, that one by the hut? Knew you’d go off at me about that. Believe me, it’s not how I trained them, the buggers. It’s this one what’s the problem.” He swiped at Jaws and laughed when it flinched. “Nah, see, she’s not that bad. Knows who’s boss. We’ll see, we’ll see.”
“We could really use a guy like you as a trapper,” Tia ventured. “We always need people who know the bush, understand the problems. I could get you on the payroll when I return.”
“Nah, I’m not into traps. They’re cowardly, you know—well, except when you use them on humans. That’s pretty fun. Nah, you wanna hunt with guns, and humans make the best hunting. Animals are too predictable, see? They do exactly what you expect, every time. I been hunting them all me life.” He sniffed and wiped his nose along his knuckles. “Used to go hunting with the old man before he fucked off. And don’t you go judging him for walking out because you never met my mother. Right bitch, that one. Nah, humans are all different, eh? They try and outguess you, you know? It’s a fair fight.”
“Not when you’re armed and they’re not.”
“Ah, I give ’em a chance. Well, not the blokes. You never know when they’re gunna try and be a hero and go after you. Nah, you get rid of them and go after the women.” He licked his thin, dry lips. “See, the women, they’re smart. They know they gotta use their brains, not try and fight. They gotta run, try and trick you, talk, beg, fuck with you, keep you guessing. Cat and mouse, see? The men, that’s like cat and cat and that’s never gunna be fun, right? Not enough of a game. Nah, with them you just—” He mimed lifting a rifle and firing, blowing his cheeks out with a poof.
Where did she even start with that? “You know it’s wrong to hunt humans.”
“Yeah, I don’t reckon it should be. Humans are the fucking problem with this world. They could use a bit of a cull, eh?”
“You know it’s against the law?”
“Won’t be soon, when the end times come. No more laws. I read about it. I follow this dude’s blog and he knows all this shit. Preppers, that’s what we’re called. Survival of the fittest and all that.” His lips angled down in an exaggerated frown. “You seen all the shit that’s happening in the world. End times are coming sooner than you think. It’ll be dog-eat-dog. Except, you know, with humans. Except, well, I’m not eating anyone. Some people might, I guess, when it gets that bad. But not me. Not my thing.”
She stole a glance at her watch. Past 1800. Cody might give her some extra time, but he’d know not to wait too long.
“How would you feel if someone was hunting you, if they hurt someone you love?” She was saying whatever bollocks came to mind, but the longer they sat here, the more time Cody had.
“I’d fucking slaughter them. But I don’t give a fuck about anyone and no one gives a fuck about me, so all good there. I’m not the sort of guy people warm to.” He said it like he was letting her in on a secret.
“Okay, well, just so you know, my brother and grandfather would be gutted if something happened to me.”
“Huh,” he said, unmoved. She’d met people like him before, desperate people with that dead look in their eyes, who’d shrugged off their humanity for the sake of survival.
She tried again. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Do you...feel emotions?”
“Nah, that’d be weak, eh? Sometimes I get angry, you know, but not so much up here, where no one pisses me off. It’s peaceful, eh?” He smoothed his hands along the rifle resting across his knees. “I mean, I’m not thick. Lotta people think I am but I’m not. I know you’re not supposed to hunt humans but I’m doing us all a favor. When the end times come we’re gunna need the strong ones. You might survive, you know. We’re gunna need some women but they gotta be tough. No fucking princesses, eh? Even a woman’s gotta be useful for something. Well, something more than the obvious, right?” He laughed. “It’s all about getting ready. Yeah, nah, those last ones,
they were disappointing, eh? Especially those Germans. I thought they might of worked out better. You’re gunna be good, though, you’re gunna be good. I can tell.” He looked at her bloody hands. “Your leg’s pretty fucked up, eh? I’d give you something for it but it’d be cheating for you. Gotta do this organically and shit. I might have to shoot it. Really put it out of action.”
Shit. “Wouldn’t I be more of a challenge if I could run?”
He jabbed a pointer finger at her. “See, that’s what I’m saying about women. They try and get in your head and shit.”
A distant artificial whistle pierced the air, above the birds, the river, the wind in the trees. Then the echoing yell of a man, far down the valley. Shit. Cody. He should have been way downriver.
Shane leaped to his feet and bounced around, rifle at his shoulder, peering into the trees like he had X-ray vision. Jaws shrank back at the sudden movement, tail tucked.
“Who’s that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Trapper?”
“Nah, they came through already. I watched them, tracked them, for practice. That your kayaker mates?” He narrowed his slit eyes even more. “You been lying.”
More shouting. Another burst of the whistle. Damn you, Cody.
Half of Shane’s face twisted into a smile. “Is it your boyfriend?”
“No.”
He started pacing. “You been fucking sitting here lying to me this whole time.”
Breathing became a conscious effort. Should she double down on denying she knew about Cody, or admit it?
“Nah, I like that. That’s good.” Shane stopped pacing and turned to her. “Coz I was starting to think you were okay, and that might make it hard, you know? But nah, we’re good. If you’re trying to fuck with me, I get to fuck with you. I’ll go after him and come back for you. But first I gotta do this...”
He pointed the rifle at her knee and flicked the safety off.
CHAPTER SIX
TIA SHUFFLED BACKWARD but hit rock. Another whistle. Cody shouted her name, clear on the breeze. How was this going to go?
“It fucking is your boyfriend.” Shane lowered the rifle. “Nah, I don’t wanna give away my position, eh? I’ll surprise him, take him out first. Heaps of time. You’re right. It’ll be more fun if I give you a chance. Dogs’ll catch up with you in a minute anyway, with all that blood.” He threw his backpack on and tightened the straps, then bounced on the spot three times as if warming up. “See ya soon, Tia. This is fucking on.”
He strode off with an exaggerated swagger, pulling his machete from its sheath and swinging it, the greyhound bounding and leaping beside him like it was high on his adrenaline. The attack dogs whined after him, straining their leashes—leaving her path clear. She felt for the wall behind her, used it to climb to her feet. Inhaling, she put weight on her leg. Pain shot up to her thigh but it held. She took a step. Shane spun. She froze.
“Attack, Jaws!” he shouted, gesturing at her. “Attack, Rocky!”
She flattened against the rock as the attack dogs turned, their leashes slackening, then snapping taught—their jaws inches from her legs. They barked, teeth bared, whining, clawing. Shit. Shane hadn’t tied them randomly. He’d tied them in overlapping arcs, trapping her. He laughed, and disappeared into the trees.
The bank behind her back was steep and smooth, a canyon carved by some ancient waterway. No chance of climbing. But if she slunk out along one side of the wall, she’d have to deal with only one dog. With what defenses? No sticks, no rocks, no handy slab of poisoned meat, just small stones and twigs—shrapnel.
Another shout arced over the valley. “Tiaaaaa! Help!”
Cody had to be bluffing, luring Shane away. Disrespecting the plan. Didn’t trust her to save her own arse—not that she was doing a particularly good job of that. And, okay, she might have a bullet in her knee right now if he hadn’t shouted, but that wasn’t the point.
Blood dribbled into her shoe, pooling under her arch. She stripped off her jacket and T-shirt, ripped the shirt along the seams and bent over her leg. Between pulses of blood, a flash of white was visible. Her shin bone. Ugh. She tied the T-shirt around her leg. Blood everywhere, but just having the wound contained made her feel stronger. She zipped her jacket over her bra—then stopped.
Shrapnel. Shrapnel had its uses. She chewed the inside of her cheek. What the hell. She was short on options—and she didn’t want to be here when Shane returned.
Checking that he was still out of sight, she took off her jacket and bra, and zipped the jacket back on. She filled one of the cups with stones and experimented with spinning it, holding it by a back strap, G-force keeping the stones contained. Big ups to industrial-strength bras. The dogs whined, eyes following the bra, jumping at it. She’d take on Jaws. If it was less well trained, it might be easier to scare and distract.
She settled her nerves, picking her route, weighing up angles. If this didn’t work, she’d have a bitch of a time detaching the mutt. And what if it clamped onto her good leg?
After a few practices that had the dogs nearly tying themselves in knots, she paused and took a cool breath. Here goes. She did a wind-up, the cups humming as they sliced the air. She swung the bra and released a load of stones into Jaws’s face. The dog jumped back, stunned. Now. She sprinted, her blood-slicked soles sliding on dead leaves. In wobbly vision, she registered the dog shaking its head, standing to attention, launching. Reacting quicker than she’d counted on. Shit, it had too much space. She’d misjudged the distances, misjudged the leash length. She spun to face it as it leaped for her arm. At the last second, she jerked away, grabbed an end of the bra in each hand, snapped it taut and shoved it into the dog’s jaw.
The dog somersaulted backward and thumped onto its spine. She ran. It scrabbled, coughing, sprang up and lunged, but the leash jerked it back. It yelped, a bra strap trailing from its teeth, and shook its head, flicking the catch into its eye.
Her leg burned. Red splotches expanded across the T-shirt like dye. The dogs were barking like crazy. Shane had to be hearing that. Her only chance was to get to a kayak, and fast.
But what the hell was Cody up to?
* * *
TIA HADN’T BEEN kidding about the fucking sandflies. Rather than risk a slapping noise in the echo chamber of a valley, Cody slid his hands over his goose pimpled skin like he had a tic. Didn’t help that he was standing on the riverbank dressed only in board shorts. But he was planning on doing some swimming and it’d be insane to get any more clothing wet. This plan had to work, plain and simple.
When Tia hadn’t showed at the rendezvous, he’d returned to the hut, grabbed the third kayak, paddled it across the river and left its stern sticking out of a shrub, to make it look like he’d gone into the forest on foot. With luck, the shooter would assume he’d taken all the kayaks to the same spot. A little more noise to draw the shooter here, and then he’d swim for the kayaks waiting at the confluence downriver.
Since he’d started up with the whistling and yelling, no more screams had come from upriver. Just frenzied barking. If that psycho had done something to Tia, he was doubly dead. Cody blasted the whistle, yelled her name.
If I don’t show, you’re paddling out solo. You need to be far downstream by nightfall. And he would be—but not without her. Meanwhile he’d lure the shooter away, distract him, confuse him, buy her a chance to reach the rendezvous—if she still could. That yell she’d let out... He knew pain when he heard it.
A bark, closer. On the far bank, a breeze curled through the tussock. Come on. A minute later, a scattering of birds rose from beside the hut’s red roof, just visible above the scrub. He stilled his hands—let the little fuckers feast.
One last time. “Tia!”
He crept downriver and slipped into the water. Holy fuck, he’d expected cold, but that. He forced himself down to
his neck, his throat closing in protest, his skin shocking like an electrocution. Still the damn sandflies followed, dive-bombing his eyes.
A clanking, a knock. Boots on wood, on...metal? Movement, on the roof. Shit, the guy had climbed it for a vantage point, his beady eyes drawn to the bright green kayak. Cody filled his stinging lungs and submerged, a headache striking like lightning. His eyeballs threatened to snap-freeze. But—distraction accomplished. Now to get around the bend in the river, out of sight, and then swim fast for the kayaks. He pulled underwater in long, strong strokes, kicking hard. It was a relief to move—and to be away from those damn flies. How much cold could your body take before your blood iced up, your heart stopped?
He swam till his lungs caved, and silently surfaced, smothering the urge to gasp. No need for silence—gunshots boomed. A tree screened the shooter as he sprayed the green kayak. The bushes flinched with bullets, the water flicked. Perfect. Cody inhaled and sank again, following the current, his scalp shrink-wrapping his skull.
When he rose again, the shooting had stopped and the river noise ahead had changed—the tributary joining, and not real happy about it. With the crosscurrent and the cold against him, his swim back across to the kayaks would be twice as challenging as he’d thought. He was using too much energy keeping afloat, keeping on track, keeping from freezing solid. But he was committed now.
All muscle and no fat. They’ll sink like rocks. The dogs weren’t the only ones. Wasn’t often you regretted those last twenty push-ups, that last ten miles on the trail, but...shit. If he got swept downriver he was dans la merde.
The tip of the beach came into view, then the orange and yellow kayaks. He upped his stroke and kick rate, pushing until his chest stung. The frothing current shoved back. A bark shot above the churn. Behind the kayaks, branches moved. Cody took a breath, ready to go under, as a figure stumbled through.
