Blood & Dust

by Jason Nahrung

  'Only if they taste him, in which case, they'll finish him off for us. But maybe we'll find out where they are. I don't see a downside.'

  Mira pushed Kevin to the floor and pinned his arms with her knees. She was incredibly strong; like an anvil sitting on his chest. 'You like the view, boy?' Her tongue, so pink against her sharp white teeth, her lips glinting. She reached back to his cock and squeezed until he groaned. 'You do like it. Here, taste me.'

  She bit her left wrist and he heard the flesh tear, smelled the blood flow, thick and metallic. He turned his mouth away, but she bled on him, splattering his lips, and he tasted her, steaming hot, and he was licking and gulping and trying to lift his head from the floor toward her, and finally she laughed and lowered her wrist till he could suck her down. A voice in the back of his head was screaming NO but the blood drowned it, drowned it completely as what felt like an electric current ran through him. Such delicious electrocution.

  'Careful, don't make a mess. We don't want to leave tell-tale stains, do we? Your girlfriend might not like that.'

  Romanian, he realised. Her name was Mira and she was Romanian, but that had been a long, long time ago. And the cop - Taipan had been right: he was no cop. Hunter wasn't even his name; it was his rank.

  She held up her wrist, marked by two pink scars circling it down low, close to her hand. As he watched, fascinated and horrified, a bright scarlet earthworm burrowed under her skin until it circled her wrist like a bracelet, then solidified into a third ring of weird scar tissue. His eyes must've been playing tricks, because he thought he could see something moving inside the scars, like an eel in a mud puddle. And her eyes - her eyes glazed so deeply red they were almost purple.

  'Got you,' she said, and kissed him, lapping at his lips and cheeks. She sat up and closed her eyes as though tuning out to a song only she could hear, and her forehead creased with concentration, little bubbles of rose-coloured sweat glistening. On her blouse, a circle of blood blossomed over her heart, and some kind of pattern grew inside it, rapidly blotching but looking vaguely star-shaped. She smiled at him then, like a prefect who'd just come head of the class, and said, 'But you - you do not have me.' The childish glee vanished. Her eyes snapped to green and then back to deep brown, almost black. Mira gripped his chin, forcing him to look at her. Her fingernails were long, glinting, sharp at the edge of his vision.

  'If you tell Taipan what we've just done, you and me, he'll kill you. Do you understand? He will kill you and your mother and your girlfriend. All of you.'

  He glared at her, wishing both she and Hunter were dead.

  'If he tastes so much as a drop of your blood, you are a dead man. Understand?' She made him nod, his jaw aching from her pincered hold. 'Good boy.' She patted his cheek. 'You play your cards right, we might get to party later. Do you like the sound of that?' She crushed his balls once more, making him sob.

  'Time, Mira.' Hunter had moved to the back door where he could look over the rear paddocks.

  Mira uncurled, like a cat stretching, rising to her feet in one graceful movement. Kevin half expected her to raise her hands over her head, stand on her toes like a ballet dancer.

  'The women?' Hunter asked.

  'Let nature take its course,' Mira said. 'A boy has to eat.'

  'Shit, Mira.' Hunter turned away as Mira rested the toe of her boot on Kevin's chin, making sure she had his attention.

  'You tell your women, Grease Monkey. You make them understand.' She held up a warning finger. 'If one word of this gets out - just one little word - the Night Riders will come for your women. They will kill them all. And if they don't, I will. You want to survive this you keep your mouth shut and your veins to yourself. Verstehen?'

  Did he understand? Loud and clear.

  The two-way fuzzed. 'One coming in, from the back,' Hunter reported. 'We are out of time.'

  'Let's go. Oh, Grease Monkey - we'll be just outside. Watching. Listening.' She held up her finger to her lips, then opened her hand to blow him a kiss.

  And then she and Hunter were gone, leaving Kevin with the awareness that he was very lucky to still be alive. They all were. The room smelled of burnt meat but the alarm had quit, sometime. Then, as his mother ran toward him, and Meg stood in the hall with her knuckles to her mouth, he realised he wasn't actually alive at all.

  It replays as though he's on a carousel ride:

  His mother picking up the rifle and working the bolt - clack, clack, like bony jaws slamming shut - and running to the front door. Meg, there, right there, where only an eye blink ago Mira was crouching, licking his face. Meg, cradling his face and staring into his eyes; asking him if he's all right and what has happened. Her eyes are so very wide and glistening with tears, and the concern he sees there is acid in his heart. He pulls her to him and he bites into her shoulder, that point where her neck joins, and the skin is soft and steaming and opens like freshly baked bread and the rush of blood is simply the most intense - he comes explosively and she groans, her fist beating moth-like against his chest…

  Screaming. Stereo, surround sound. It vibrates through him, into his chest, into his blood; his heart races, trying to match that tune. He's screaming, too, down deep where the red flood doesn't reach…

  Meg, torn away. Her flesh tears under his teeth. Her shirt rips as he claws to hold her. She sprawls on her arse and screams as she sees her blood for the first time. The scarlet leaches through her ragged T-shirt…

  A girl, young, his age maybe, skin the colour of strong coffee, an unnerving glimmer of red in her eyes exactly the same as he saw in Hunter's, reefing him to his feet… He's drunk on his feet and his muscles are dough…

  His mother, shouting, crying his name, over and over again, and his arm around the stranger, his feet dragging, and he realises, distantly through the crimson haze, that the girl's a lot stronger than she appears…

  From the back door, looking over his shoulder and seeing Meg, horrified and staring as she holds her bloodied hands in front of her, and he's mumbling her name and thinking she won't want to stay with him now. His mother shrieks at him, 'Kevin', a long wailing siren that turns into an animal's anguished howl…

  Stumbling across the yard and over the fence and across a paddock that feels as wide as the Simpson fucking desert, and it's hot underfoot, the earth still radiating daytime heat though the sun's well down…

  A rubber bat dangling from the rear-vision mirror, and Deep Purple's Black Night blasting the cabin, the girl winking at him, her eyes the colour of red-gold honey in the dashboard glow and he thinks she doesn't look that dangerous…

  The girl, asking, 'How are we?' and it takes a moment to realise she isn't talking to him, but a walkie-talkie. 'Lucky,' she says, and Kevin wants to scream 'bullshit', and she says, 'Thanks Hippie, see you back at the ranch', and then tells Kevin it looks as if they've made a clean getaway, but he doesn't feel clean, not at all…

  Him asking, pushing the word out through the fog, 'Who…?' She says her name is Kala and tells him that everything is going to be all right and he laughs, a bitter choking sound, and closes his eyes as they speed away into the night because it's easier to swallow lies with your eyes shut…

  The ride goes round, and round, and round.

  SEVEN

  The grain elevator sat like a rusting rocket ship next to the train tracks, the towering silos spotted black with missing panels, a skeletal gantry tacked to one side, broken windows staring out from the long cabin capping the tubes. There was nothing but dirt and mallee trees for miles; the lights of Barlow's Siding made a faint corona on the horizon. The site had been abandoned back before Kevin had left school, relegated to being a place to sink booze and get laid and drag race. The council had erected a mesh fence, as if none of the country kids could use wire cutters, and the sheds and silos were covered in graffiti and littered with the remains of camp fires, beer bottles and used condoms. It was a Thursday night, school had just started for the year, and he hoped to Christ that no-one was out here ha
lf cut and with their pants down. No-one other than him, anyway.

  Kala circled the building and parked where they couldn't be seen from the road. She killed the motor and the headlights and the night came down, still and quiet under the cloudy highway of the Milky Way, the half moon riding high. She sat, hands on the wheel, as though catching her breath. She wore frayed jeans and a checked shirt open over an Iron Maiden singlet. At least she had good taste in music. A silver crucifix dangled from her ear where her spiky short-back-and-sides failed to reach. Her eyes were dark brown except at times when they caught the light in a funny way; they got a sheen over them, a kind of icy red glaze that made Kevin think of an eagle or a leopard maybe. That made him think of Hunter.

  'Did you see anyone other than those women at your house; some suits, maybe?' she asked. 'Cops?'

  He couldn't swallow. His heart shuddered; his lungs ached, airless. All he could see was Mira on top of him. God, it was as if he was right back there again, pushing against her weight, hearing her voice slicing into him like a harpoon:

  You want to survive this, then you keep your mouth shut.

  'No, nobody; just my family.'

  'Lucky,' she said. 'Lucky your friends were there or you might have had a real unpleasant visit. You'd be dead now, probably. Your mum too, maybe. They don't like loose ends.'

  'I'm a loose end?'

  'Don't worry. Your mum will be okay as long as she plays the game. It's you they would've wanted.'

  'What game? Who's they?'

  'We should go. Taipan will wanna tell you what's what.'

  She took the key. A glint of silver; a Mexican key ring, one half sun, the other moon. It disappeared into her palm, then into her jeans, her groin thrusting up toward the wheel as she manoeuvred to slide the keys away. She gave a slight moan, the kind that comes from sitting in one place too long, of muscles strained and joints locked.

  That tiny sound electrified him from ear to crotch.

  'Nice wheels,' he mumbled, for the sake of saying something, anything; afraid of the loaded silence; afraid of the unintended sexuality of her action, of the constriction in his chest, of the sudden and unexpected surge of lust stiffening his cock; ashamed that he could even notice something like the tight cut of her jeans at a time like this, let alone get a hard-on because of it.

  'It might not be the most sensible car to drive out here, but I just love it,' she said, patting the vintage coupe's steering wheel with an affection that made him instantly jealous.

  'Yours?'

  'Black girl can't own a Monaro?' There was an edge to her voice.

  'It's a classic,' he said. 'They don't make 'em like this any more.'

  'No, no they don't.' Then, more gently, 'How are you doing?'

  He cleared his throat. 'How do you think?' He rubbed his eyes and his face, crouched forward with the weight of the confusion filling his skull.

  'Take your time,' Kala said. 'You're safe here.' The light came on as she opened her door. 'I'll go find Tai.'

  Kevin could smell the abandonment; it drifted around him like smoke, filled the cabin, pressing him down into the seat. Kevin sat for a moment trying to make sense of it all as the last of the adrenalin drained from his muscles, leaving him exhausted. He fumbled for the door handle, then lurched out onto the ground and retched. When he was empty, his stomach a tight, collapsed hollow, he wiped the drool on his sleeve and pulled himself to his feet.

  A whistle pierced the still, cold air. He pulled himself back to the now, to the fact he was alone with people he didn't know but who apparently knew something about what had happened to him and his family. He might, he knew with a rousing hit of realisation, die here.

  'Whitefella,' a male voice called. 'Up here.'

  Two figures perched like crows on a beam high above. Kala, and the biker who had… The biker from yesterday. Today. Only this morning. Taipan.

  A rickety iron staircase led to a shattered remnant of landing near the couple. He made his way up slowly, aware of the tremble in the structure, the blotches of graffiti. He'd come here from time to time, to drink beer and make out around a campfire. This was the first time he'd been scared. He reached the beam and hesitated. The ground was a head-spinningly long way down, even if the beam was wide enough to sit on.

  'C'mon,' Taipan said. 'Wotcha 'fraid of?'

  Kevin gritted his teeth and inched his way along. The ground twirled. His guts tightened, hungry or nervous or both, making him dizzy.

  Taipan sniffed as Kevin sat down beside Kala.

  'You burn ya dinner, Kay?' Taipan asked. 'Stop for a sausage sizzle?'

  'Bit of a mess at the house, but I got there in time. Just.'

  'That blood part of the mess?'

  'A girl got bit. But she's still kickin'.'

  Taipan sniffed, patted his stomach. 'Makes a man peckish.'

  'Shut up: you've been fed.'

  His hand brushed her cheek and she pulled away.

  It made Kevin nervous. The bar wasn't that wide. He wished they'd just sit still, damn it.

  'VS was watching the joint,' Kala said.

  'Them Hunters who picked me up at that old bitch's place?'

  'Hippie didn't think so. A woman, he thought.'

  'And no sign of them Hunters?'

  'There was a four-wheel-drive; it followed the wrong car.'

  Taipan gave a malicious chuckle. 'That Hunter, he ain't bin havin' a good day, has he?'

  'You gonna tell me what this is all about?' Kevin asked.

  Taipan took a packet of tobacco from his pocket and set about rolling a cigarette. Kevin watched with increasing frustration as the biker licked the paper to seal the cylinder, then tamped the end with his lighter before lighting up. Taipan offered the cigarette to him. Kevin waved it away. The biker's nose twitched. He asked Kala, 'This fella smell funny to you?'

  'All I can smell is that stink you're so fond of.'

  A curlew called, the high-pitched cry sending a shiver up Kevin's spine. The iron felt cold through his jeans, the air fresh but thin as he fought for breath.

  'Kala, why am I here?' Kevin asked. It was as if the biker could tell what Mira had done to him. Like he was just trying to decide the easiest way to kill him. He gripped the beam. 'What, what are you guys talking about?'

  She turned to Taipan, but he just stared straight ahead through another noxious cloud of smoke.

  'One of you, please - tell me what's going on!'

  'You're a vampire,' the biker said finally.

  'Piss off,' Kevin said.

  'You're a vampire and nothin' can kill you,' Taipan told him. 'Nothin' much, anyways.'

  'Yeah, right. And pigs can fly.'

  'Pigs maybe. Not you.' Taipan reached behind Kala and shoved Kevin between the shoulder blades.

  Kevin pitched forward, screaming all the way to the ground. He landed on his back. The impact knocked the wind from him, left his head ringing and his vision hazy. He could still hear, though, over the buzzing in his ears.

  'Good one, Tai,' Kala said. 'What if he'd landed on something?'

  'Like what? A wooden stake? That whitefella has to learn and learn quick if he's gonna make it. Not that I'm convinced that he should.'

  'You can be such an arsehole.'

  'You teach him, then. Maybe there's a bit more of the whitefella in you than the blackfella, eh?'

  'That's not fair.'

  'No, it ain't. You shoulda learned by now that nothin' is. Let me know when you've made up your mind.'

  Kevin drew a deep, pain-filled breath and opened his eyes. Abstract shapes flitted across his vision like speeding clouds crossing the stars. He made out Kala and Taipan, standing on the beam.

  'Take that whitefella to the farmhouse,' Taipan said. 'I gotta go pick up some gear, then we'll head for the coast. Somewhere with a bit'a cover till we shake VS off our tail.'

  Kala's voice dropped, so low Kevin could only just hear. 'What about Willa?'

  'She made her point.' Taipan rubbed his chest. />
  'Tai, be serious. After all of this, you're just gonna walk away?'

  'Just leave it be.' He pointed at Kevin with his glowing cigarette. 'It's bad enough we got excess baggage.' He jumped and landed easily, on both feet, near Kevin. 'How you feelin' there?'

  Kevin tested his vocal cords, the words coming out hoarse but gaining strength. The pain in his back and chest had subsided, making it easier to breathe. 'I'm okay. I'm alive.' Amazement burst into anger. He struggled to get to his feet. 'What the bloody hell did you think you were-'

  Taipan pulled a pistol and shot Kevin in the chest.

  Kevin slammed back into the ground, his hearing reverberating with the blast. He lay there, chest burning, gasping for air like a beached yellowbelly.

  'Yeah, you're alive,' Taipan said, still pointing the pistol at Kevin. 'Lucky you.'

  'Tai,' Kala yelled. 'That's enough!'

  Taipan flicked the safety and returned the weapon to its place against the small of his back. 'That girl there, she'll look after you, eh. She plenny good at that.' Taipan shouted at Kala, 'Keep your eyes peeled, they'll be lookin' for us,' then walked around the corner of the building. A motorcycle shattered the quiet.

  Kevin lay helpless, seething with impotent rage as the tail lights vanished. Kala arrived. She must have taken the stairs. He ignored her and finally was able to sit up. He felt his chest, and his fingers came away sticky and dark with blood. The sight made his throat constrict, his gut lurch. Jesus, it burnt, inside, like needles being stuck in his heart. A heart that had just had a bullet put through it at point-blank range.

  'Was he for real?' he asked.

  'What do you think?'

  He eyed the blood on his palm, then wiped his hands on the ground, on his jeans, but he couldn't get them clean. The pain in his chest was fading. It didn't hurt so much to breathe.

  'I guess,' he whispered.

  She offered her hand and he let her pull him up.

  Kevin eyed the beam overhead, the roughly Kevin-shaped depression in the dirt. 'Where'd he go?'

  'Who knows? We're on our own for now.'

  'I want to go home,' he said.