Lang Downs

by Ariel Tachna

  “Hey, are you all right?” Laura asked, poking at his arm. Thorne didn’t think. He couldn’t. His body reacted without his brain’s permission, the grassy tablelands blurring until he was back in the jungles of East Timor, the pressure against his arm a machete, not a child’s finger. His hand shot out and encircled her wrist, twisting her arm until she cried out in pain.

  The sound broke the trance and his vision cleared as he dropped her hand, horror filling him when he realized what he’d done.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “I didn’t mean to….” Nausea rose up in his throat, and he stumbled away behind one of the tractors they were using to build the firebreak. He leaned against the huge tire and lost his lunch. That girl, that sweet, fresh-faced child, was no threat to him. She hadn’t deserved to be attacked that way.

  “What the hell, Lachlan?” Neil demanded as he rounded the back of the tractor. He stopped when he saw Thorne bent over, but Thorne could sense him standing there still, waiting for an explanation. When he finally trusted his stomach not to betray him again, he straightened and faced the foreman.

  “I was in the Commandos for twenty years,” he said. “I was trained to react instinctively to any threat without even having to think about it. I’ve been out for three months. That training hasn’t worn off. When Laura poked my arm, I had a flashback. I’m sorry. She didn’t deserve what I did. I’ll stay away from her.”

  “What sets them off?”

  “What?”

  “You’re going to be here for a few more days, anyway,” Neil said. “You stopped this time, but if you don’t next time, someone could be seriously hurt. If we know what sets you off, we can avoid it.”

  “Don’t walk up behind me and don’t touch me unexpectedly,” Thorne said. “As long as I see things coming, I can assess the threat and deal with it rationally. It’s the things I don’t see coming that set me off.”

  “I’ll tell the others, but you owe Laura an explanation yourself.”

  Thorne felt bile rise in his throat again at the thought of the sweet girl who had tried to befriend him only to fall victim to his instability. He would apologize and explain because Neil was right that she deserved to hear that from him, but then he would keep his distance. He wouldn’t put her at risk again. His time in East Timor had eliminated age as a mitigating factor in his automatic risk assessment. He’d faced too many child soldiers for Laura’s age to protect her now. He found a canteen and rinsed his mouth out and then went to find Laura.

  His stomach rolled again when he saw she was sitting with Ian. They both tensed when he approached, but he stopped well outside touching distance, hoping to reduce the stress on them. “I… don’t do well with unexpected touches,” he said, knowing it was a lame excuse. “When you poked my arm, I had a flashback, and I reacted the way the military trained me to react to threats. That training saved my life more times than I can count, but you didn’t deserve it. I’ll stay away from you from now on. I don’t want you to feel unsafe in your own home.”

  Laura looked at him with tear-stained cheeks, but her expression seemed less haunted than when he’d first approached. “What about expected touches?”

  Thorne blinked a couple of times. “What?”

  “If you know someone is going to touch you, do you still get flashbacks?”

  “Not usually,” Thorne replied. “As long as there isn’t a threat, anyway.”

  “So if I gave you a hug right now, you’d be okay with that?”

  Thorne felt the world tilt on its axis. He’d attacked the child and now she wanted to hug him? “I guess so.”

  “Laura, this isn’t a good idea,” Ian said. Thorne didn’t even bristle. He’d already proven how dangerous he could be.

  “Look at him, Ian,” Laura said. “He’s more upset about this than I am. He didn’t mean to hurt me, just like I didn’t mean to startle him. It’ll be fine.”

  Thorne stood perfectly still when she stood up and closed the distance between them. He kept every muscle under rigid control as she put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest for a moment and just squeezed. Awkwardly he patted her back a couple of times, not trusting himself to do more, but that seemed to be all she needed. She gave him a bright smile, released him, and bounded off, calling for one of the other jackaroos.

  “You don’t deserve her forgiveness.” Ian’s glare cut Thorne as deeply as any knife.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Thorne spat. “I’m a cold-blooded killer. That’s what the army trained me to be. And then three months ago, they dumped me back into civilian life. Why do you think I’m out here in the outback? Fewer people to hurt and more of a chance to protect someone, for once. I’ll never get all the blood off my hands, but maybe if I save a few lives now, it’ll erase some of the debt I owe the universe.”

  He’d only eaten half his sandwich before Laura had triggered the flashback, but Thorne knew he wouldn’t be able to swallow the rest of it even if he tried. “I’m going back to work. Tell the others to join me when they’re done with lunch.”

  Three

  “LACHLAN HAS flashbacks,” Neil said without preamble when he next saw Caine and Macklin. “He says they’re triggered by someone coming up behind him or touching him expectedly. He attacked Laura.”

  “Is she hurt?” Caine asked immediately.

  “She’ll have a bruise on her wrist, but he stopped before it went beyond that,” Neil said. “He made himself sick when he realized what he’d done.”

  “He was a soldier, wasn’t he?” Macklin asked.

  “Twenty years with the Commandos, he said.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Caine said. “Maybe we can do something to help.”

  “No,” Macklin interrupted. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “I don’t need protecting,” Caine protested.

  “And he doesn’t need smothering,” Macklin insisted. “He’s already feeling weak and vulnerable. If you go to him with all your kindness and sympathy, he’ll either break completely or lash out at everything and leave. Neither of those helps us. We need his experience with the fires, which means we need him here and functional. I’ll talk to him. You talk to Laura.”

  Caine muttered some more, but Macklin ignored him. He grabbed his hat and pulled on his boots. “Bring me a plate of dinner if I don’t make it back to the canteen. I have to find the man before I can talk to him.”

  Thorne wasn’t in the canteen or the bunkhouse, which didn’t surprise Macklin at all. The man’s ute was still with all the others, so he hadn’t left the station. Macklin took that as a good sign. The pack that had remained in the back of the ute was gone, though. Thorne had gone to ground to lick his wounds. Macklin turned his gaze away from the buildings, searching for a tent.

  He found it after a moment, about a mile up the road that led out of the valley, off to the side, so it didn’t block the road, but close enough to hear any traffic. Whistling tunelessly but loudly enough to be heard prior to his approach, Macklin hiked up the road, making sure his boots crunched on the gravel. Any other time, he’d have walked in the grass on either side, but he wanted Thorne to hear him coming. He wanted to talk, not fight.

  Thorne was standing outside the tent waiting for him by the time he reached the little campsite.

  “Was the bed in the guest room that uncomfortable?” Macklin asked. “We could have tried another house, you know.”

  “That’s not why I’m out here and don’t pretend otherwise,” Thorne said, his face contorted with more emotions than Macklin could name. “The firebreaks are done. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  “The fires aren’t out. The threat still exists,” Macklin said. “Are you only going to do half your job?”

  “Look, Armstrong, I like you and I like what you’ve built here, but I’m a danger to everyone. I proved that this afternoon.”

  “Neil said Laura was more scared than anything else, and her parents haven’t come to complain,”
Macklin replied. “So unless you’re planning on attacking someone else, I don’t see the problem.”

  “Because I never plan it,” Thorne shouted. “It’s not something I can control. Something triggers it and I react like a mindless killer.”

  “And then make yourself sick when it’s over.”

  “Like that’s going to matter if I hurt someone,” Thorne said scornfully. “I’m a trained killer. I don’t need weapons. Everything I touch is a weapon.”

  “Did you tell Neil the truth about your triggers?” Macklin asked. “Because we can work with that if that’s all there are. You’re only going to be here for a few days. The men are intelligent enough to remember not to walk up behind you or to touch you without warning. If those are really the only ones, you’re welcome to stay.”

  “The only ones I know about,” Thorne said. “I don’t like loud, unexpected noises, but they startle me more than set off a flashback. It’s the flashbacks that are the worst.”

  “Then pack up and come get dinner. You can eat with your back to the wall so no one surprises you, and I’ll tell Mum to keep her hands to herself. She’s of the opinion that no one is too old for a hug, but in your case, that might not be true.”

  “If I see it coming and have a way out if it’s not a good time, I don’t mind a hug,” Thorne said. “It’s only when I’m tense or when it’s unexpected. I can’t take feeling trapped.”

  “Is that why you’re out here instead of at the house?” Macklin asked.

  “No, I didn’t feel trapped there. I didn’t think I’d still be welcome after what I did.”

  “Don’t make a habit of it,” Macklin warned, “but you’re still welcome. We need all the hands we can get to protect the station. I don’t want the children to lose their homes.”

  It was a gamble, but it seemed to work. Thorne’s face lost the haunted, conflicted look, determination taking its place again in the set of his jaw. “No, we don’t want that. Give me a minute to pack up.”

  Macklin waited as Thorne broke camp with an economy of movement that spoke of years of experience. He shouldered his pack, and they hiked back toward the station. “Why didn’t you just tell me to get the hell off your land?”

  “I told you. We need your help.”

  “I’ve done what I was sent to do,” Thorne said. “The firebreaks are ready. There’s no reason for me to stay until the fire gets here.”

  Macklin hesitated a moment. He had told Caine that Thorne wouldn’t appreciate coddling, but Macklin recognized a broken soul when he saw one, just as Caine did. “How much do you know about Lang Downs?”

  “Not much,” Thorne said. “I’d never heard of it before the captain sent me here. I’ve been out of the country for twenty years, and I didn’t grow up in this area.”

  “I didn’t know if any of the others had said anything,” Macklin said. “Lang Downs is named for Caine’s great-uncle, Michael Lang, who founded the station in his twenties. Michael never married, but the jackaroos who came and stayed were his children in all the ways that mattered. He spent his life taking in down-on-their-luck men with no hope of a future and giving them a home. Kami, Neil, Ian, Kyle, me… we were the latest in a long line of men who got their lives together in these hills. Then Michael died and Caine came. And Caine kept right on in his uncle’s footsteps. Chris, Jesse, Sam, Jeremy, Seth, who you haven’t met because he’s off in trade school because of this place, Kyle’s wife Linda and her daughter…. The only people we’ve ever kicked off the station are a drug user and a man who stole from us. Not everyone stays, of course. Some people stay for a season or two. Some people come to work here and don’t need anything from us, but we’ve never turned away anyone who needs a safe haven, and I don’t plan on starting now.”

  “I don’t need anything,” Thorne insisted. “I’m just here to fight fires.”

  That was a lie if ever Macklin heard one, but he didn’t argue. It wouldn’t do any good. “Then stay to protect the people who do need it,” Macklin said. “They deserve a place to call home.”

  THORNE FOUND a seat in the canteen with his back to the wall at an unoccupied table. He didn’t know how long he’d be allowed to sit alone, but at least he would see anyone coming well before they got to him. He expected Neil to have told the others, and after what he’d done to Laura, he wouldn’t be surprised if no one approached him or if her parents approached him in anger, but it was better to be prepared for any eventuality.

  Any eventuality except a small child toddling up to him and pulling on his trouser leg. “Hello, sweetheart.” He looked around frantically for the girl’s parents, but no one seemed to have noticed her absence. “What’s your name?”

  “Dani. Why you sitting alone?”

  Thorne hadn’t the slightest idea how to answer that. He didn’t want to scare the kid, so he couldn’t exactly explain that he’d attacked Laura earlier and so nobody wanted to sit with him now. “I’m not alone,” he said instead. “You’re here with me.”

  That seemed to satisfy the child because she held her arms up to be lifted. He slid his hands under her arms, watching as they dwarfed her sturdy little chest. This was insane. If he squeezed wrong, he could break a rib!

  “Eat,” Dani ordered as she settled on the bench next to him and gestured imperiously to his still full plate.

  Not knowing what else to do, Thorne took a bite of the curry on his plate and nearly moaned in delight. After years of field rations, both in the army and in the months in the outback fighting grassfires, any home-cooked food was a treat, but Lang Downs had a treasure in their cook. The meat, of unknown origin but Thorne had learned not to ask years ago, was tender. The sauce was spicy without being so hot it burned his mouth, and the rice was fluffy and cooked to perfection.

  “You want naan?” Dani asked. “I like naan with curry.”

  “You’re just an expert, aren’t you?” Thorne asked. “I like my curry with rice, though, so no naan for me.”

  Dani shrugged and then grinned. “More for me!”

  “You can have my naan,” Thorne agreed. “Maybe you should ask Kami for it now.”

  “I eated already,” Dani said. “You was late to dinner.”

  “I was,” Thorne replied. “I had to talk to Mr. Armstrong before I could come eat.”

  “Dani, there you are,” Molly said, coming up to the table. “She’s not bothering you, is she?”

  “She’s no bother, ma’am,” Thorne assured her. “She’s been keeping me company.”

  “He was lonely,” Dani said with great authority. “We is friends now.”

  “We are friends,” Molly corrected automatically. “And I’m glad you made a new friend, but you mustn’t bother him when he’s not paying attention, okay, Dani? Always come up to his face, not his back.”

  “Why?” Dani asked.

  “Because I want to see your pretty smile,” Thorne said. “I don’t like it when people sneak up on me. It scares me.”

  “I cry when I get scared,” Dani said. “Do you cry too, mister?”

  No, he just attacked people. “Sometimes,” he said instead. “And sometimes I get angry and yell at the person who scared me. And you can call me Thorne.”

  “Mr. Thorne,” Molly amended. “Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are killing me.”

  Thorne stood up swiftly and came around the table to pull the bench opposite his out so Molly could sit. “I’m sorry. My mum would have my head if she could see me. She taught me better than that.”

  “I’m sure your mum is incredibly proud of your service,” Molly said as she took her seat.

  “My mother died before I joined the military,” Thorne said shortly. “She never knew.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Molly said. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  Thorne nodded, unable to speak as the grief welled up in him again. He choked back the emotions as he had always done, unwilling to expose his soft underbelly even to the kind woman sitting across from him. Vulnerability
was weakness, and weakness got you killed. He’d had that lesson drummed into him from the moment he joined the army. “It’s fine, ma’am. You didn’t know.”

  He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt pudgy little arms slide around his waist, but for once the unexpected contact didn’t trigger a flashback. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and gave Dani a gentle squeeze in return.

  “Mummy, Mr. Thorne needs a hug.”

  “Then give him another one,” Molly said. “I’m too big to hug anyone these days.”

  Thorne didn’t think she looked particularly big yet, but his experience with pregnant women was about as vast as his experience with children hugging him, so maybe he wasn’t a good judge. He pulled Dani onto his lap to give her another hug. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed hard. He buried his face in her brown curls and inhaled the scent of talcum powder and baby shampoo and let himself be soothed.

  “Your face is sharp.” Dani released her hold on his neck as she spoke and rubbed her little hands over his cheeks.

  “It’ll get softer when it grows out a little more,” Thorne said. “I bet it’s not as sharp as your dad’s face when he hasn’t shaved in the morning. The longer it gets, the softer it gets.”

  “Daddy’s face is very sharp in the morning,” Molly agreed. “That’s why Mummy makes him shave every day.”

  Dani rubbed her hand over his beard a couple more times before turning and plopping on his lap. “Eat,” she scolded again.

  “Darling, you’re going to make that difficult, sitting on his lap. Why don’t you come sit next to me instead?”

  Dani shook her head even as Thorne tightened his arms around her instinctively. “She’s fine where she is,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

  “If you’re sure,” Molly said with a smile. “She can be a handful.”

  “She’s a blessing,” Thorne said as he looked down at her dark head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this settled, and all it had taken was a hug from a child and her mother’s acceptance.