Blood & Dust

by Jason Nahrung

  'We made the front,' he said, waving the paper as he walked to her side.

  'All you'd have to do is run down the main street naked to do that. Assuming there was anyone around to notice.'

  'Nothing the television didn't have last night. Amphetamines on a commercial scale, tied into an outlaw motorcycle club. Rival gang or a falling out in the ranks. Yada yada. Bhagwan would have a purple fit.' If he wasn't on ice in a wardrobe, waiting for Mira to decide whether to let him keep his head.

  'Then he'd be a hypocrite. He was one of the biggest drug suppliers in the state.'

  Past tense: didn't bode well for the veggo. 'I'm not sure cow's blood counts as a controlled substance.'

  'A substance of addiction, nonetheless. Did you enjoy your cigarette?'

  'Very much, thanks for asking.'

  'It ruins your tastebuds and your sense of smell.'

  A small price to pay for the irritation it caused her. 'It's good for my nerves.'

  'Jackals aren't supposed to have nerves.'

  'Us Hunters do. Keeps us alive.'

  'If the smoking doesn't kill you first.'

  'We both know that's not likely.' Although, the way he'd been feeling lately; what would happen if her blood lost its power to maintain his body in this strange almost-stasis? Would all those years come rushing back at him like a rubber band stretched tight and released, or would he just pick up where he'd left off, going sedately into old age with only memories of when he'd been damn near indestructible?

  Mira studied him, detecting his mood, he supposed; the blood didn't lie, not to her. She had to know he was tiring. That he was approaching a T-junction of mortality and immortality. No, a cross-roads: 'involuntary retirement' was also an option.

  'No further word of our Taipan, I take it?' she asked.

  'Not since he took out the roadblock last night, heading west. Coppers aren't happy.' Two dead, two in hospital. No, there was nothing to be happy about there. Poor bastards never stood a chance.

  Mira didn't acknowledge his disapproval. The cops were just pieces on the board to her; so was he, for that matter, especially now that he was entering what some called red-eye menopause.

  'Taipan and the boy have gone to ground,' she said. 'The grease monkey is shutting me out. Resisting me.'

  'He can do that?'

  'Oh yes, especially at this distance. He was still in the change when I bled into him, and not even I can predict what effect that will have had. I suspect he's got a little of me in him.'

  'Can he back-trace you?'

  'No.' She took his hand and laid it on her left breast, directly above where the nipple pushed through the silk of her robe. The top curve and point of her pentagram tattoo peeked out from under the rim of the shiny material. 'I took the requisite precautions. I've always been a big believer in practising safe sex. You can never quite tell just what kind of monster a child will grow up to be.'

  She kissed his hand and released him.

  'Besides, despite the anchor,' she waved her left wrist with its fleshy bracelets at him, 'bloodlinks lose potency with time and distance. Even without his active resistance, I doubt I'd be able to trace him back to the nest, not with the bloodbitch throwing up interference.'

  'So they've escaped.'

  'We've destroyed the body, now we have only to take the head. I have a new plan to draw them out.' She gave a mischievous chuckle. 'Jasmine is not going to like it.'

  'Back to the Siding, then?' He kept his voice neutral, hiding his weariness. Maybe it was the tropical heat, wearing him down, but he had seriously hoped that this raid would be the end of it.

  'Back to the Siding. Tell Felicity to expect us. But first,' she propped a leg up; her robe fell open to the groin, 'I think you've earned a drink, Hunter Reece.'

  Mira drew a nail down that tender skin, opening a beaded line across her upper thigh.

  He kneeled, and as he went to it, she cracked the paper open.

  'Mm, nice pictures. We did make a mess of Bhagwan's spread, didn't we?'

  He lifted his head, his tongue coated with her blood. 'Was all that firepower really necessary?' he asked. They'd heard the explosions and gunfire in Mt Morgan, so the paper reported. Like a war, one resident had been quoted as saying. What's the world coming to?

  'Well, I did consider hanging you out the door on a piece of rope with a crossbow, but I have grown fond of your insubordination.'

  She pushed her thigh at him, and he traced the wound again with his tongue, hungry for the rush.

  'Nice job on the chopper,' he murmured. 'Having all the toys tucked away like that.'

  'Worth the delay.' She popped her head around the paper to smile at him. 'We can't fly around with cannons and rocket pods hanging off us, can we? People would talk.'

  'They'd all want one.' And finally, the blood rush hit, sweeping him away. He buried himself in her blood, loving it and hating himself at the same time.

  'Exactly. When you're done, find some clothes for Taipan's red-eye and dump her. Let's see which way our courier pigeon flies. Oh, and Reece - you'd better give her back her little knife. I need her to arrive in one piece and the roads, they just aren't safe these days.'

  THIRTY-ONE

  Kevin lay panting in his shallow grave, letting the memories of the night before, the nightmares of the day, subside. Mira had come to him, and he'd fought her off, kind of, and he'd fallen back into his torpor. Now, exhausted and hungry, he struggled to orientate himself once more. Earthen walls, his healing foot paining as if it'd been wrapped in broken glass, and the rising fear - his old friend Fear. Had Mira worked out where they were? Did she really have Kala prisoner? And where was Taipan?

  He pushed the lid up a fraction. A trickle of dust came in, threatening to make him sneeze. Warm twilight air carried the aromas of stale hay and petrol. He opened the lid higher. No ambush, no enemies, no Taipan. But the bike was still there. Kevin sat on the lip of the hole, then used a nearby drum to pull himself upright. He shook himself free of the dust he'd collected overnight, then tested his half-formed foot. The blob of flesh wouldn't take his weight. The bones had yet to harden inside the gelatinous lump; toes were mere suggestions of bumps along the front. Dirt stuck to the soft meat.

  'You wake up early, that's good. It'll keep you alive. Must be a bit'a blackfella in you, eh.'

  Kevin jumped at Taipan's voice, muffled from outside.

  Kevin lurched to the door, wincing as his new-born foot felt every pebble, and stood, crane-like, the sore foot off the ground as he used the lopsided jamb for support. Taipan sat just outside the door, bare-chested and cross-legged, as though he hadn't moved since they'd arrived.

  'I didn't know if you'd still be here,' Kevin said, his voice harsher than he intended. Crows called, reminding Kevin death sat within a few paces.

  'You mean you ain't happy to see me?' Taipan's tone was as dry as the dust in Kevin's hair. 'Or just that you didn't know if you'd wake up alive?'

  Kevin limped around so he could see the biker's face. 'Both, maybe.'

  'Well, like I told you, you can stop ya worryin'. Fact is, I made you; I ain't gonna put you down, not unless you give me reason, and then it'll be to ya face, not in ya sleep.'

  He looked away, through his latest breath of smoke to the descending night.

  'We both got fucked up by that Von Schiller mob, okay? There'll be a reckonin', don't you worry 'bout that. Then, if me and you reckon we still got business, we can sort it out.'

  'Still-'

  'Later. It's the best deal ya gonna get, so take it, fella.' Taipan rose slowly to his feet, seeming reluctant to stand, dusted off his pants.

  'I had another dream,' Kevin told him. 'A Mira dream.'

  'What did that bitch have to say for herself?'

  'She,' he hesitated, not sure how much he should tell - but if Kala was in trouble - 'she's got Kala.'

  'How did it feel?'

  'Bad, of course.'

  'Did it feel like truth?'

  'How
should I know?'

  'Don't matter. You tell her where we was?'

  'I don't think so.'

  'That's somethin', then.' Taipan grabbed a T-shirt - a faded and holey Midnight Oil - from where it was draped over a nearby bush. Taipan juggled his cigarette as he shrugged into the shirt. 'We'll make a mile, eh.'

  'What about Kala?'

  'What about her?'

  'If Mira's got her-'

  'Myxo's ain't like us, fella; the blood's just Botox and a good time to them. Kala ain't bin to the new nest. All she knows about Mother is a phone number. Mira can ring it till her finger bleeds, it ain't gonna give her shit.'

  'Still, if Kala's a prisoner, shouldn't we go get her?'

  'And walk right into their trap? Nah. I had all the stakin' I need jus' lately.'

  'Can't you tell where Kala is - just so we know for sure?'

  Taipan shook his head. 'That girl's alive, I reckon, but she's weak and far away. Listen: if Mira's got her, then there ain't nothin' we can do. If Mira ain't got her, then that girl can get her own arse to Mother's nest.'

  'God, I hope she's all right. I hope all of them are.'

  'Yeah.' Taipan crushed his cigarette butt into the ground. 'Hungry? I'll rustle us up somethin' to eat.'

  'Out here?'

  'Ain't you ever heard'a bush tucker?' Grinning, Taipan let his head fall back as though he was stargazing, but his eyes were shut. He extended his hands, fingers wide, as though enjoying a breeze Kevin couldn't feel.

  Stars had started sprinkling through the descending night, unmarred by city lights, just the moonlight for competition. Kevin breathed deeply, luxuriating in the sense of space, of belonging. It took him back to his childhood; another life ago. Anger kindled - the biker shared that memory, now; Taipan had not only stolen his future, but his past as well.

  Kevin heard the rhythmic thuds of approaching cattle. Two grey shapes appeared out of the dark, their ears flopping on either side of their coffin-shaped heads. Brahman-cross steers. They padded up to Taipan, nuzzled his hands with their moist noses, their shoulders the same height as his. The biker moved slowly, ran a hand over their necks and humps. The steers flapped their ears; one brushed its tail up over its hindquarters.

  Taipan drew his knife. Sweat glistened on his face.

  'Hard work?' Kevin asked softly, afraid of upsetting whatever spell Taipan had cast.

  'Yeah, but a fella's gotta eat. You wanna get us a mug from them saddlebags there?'

  Kevin found a dented metal mug. His face must have shown his hesitation.

  'Don't worry, fella, I ain't gonna kill'em. No point shittin' in our nest. Just takin' enough to put back some of what we lost.'

  He pointed to Kevin's new foot. 'Might have a spare pair'a boots lyin' 'round here, too. We can take a look when we fuel that bike up. Tucker first.'

  He brushed his hand down the neck of one steer, speaking in low, soothing tones. He found what he was looking for, pinched a handful of skin.

  'Hold that mug here.' He cut through the vein. The steer twitched as the blood spurted out, boiling and black in the faint light, until a grey froth covered the top of the cup. The smell soon overpowered any squeamishness. Taipan pinched off the vein as Kevin skolled the brew.

  'It's good,' Kevin said, wiping his mouth and putting the gory mug back into position. 'Not as good, but good enough.'

  Taipan chuckled, but focused on the steers. The one he'd cut was shivering, its tail lashing. It stared back from the corner of its wide eye.

  Kevin drank again and again, until Taipan rubbed a handful of dirt into the wound and let the steer go. The steer wandered off a little way before folding down to rest. Taipan drank from the other, not as much. The second steer walked over to its mate and licked its nose before settling beside it.

  'So, how do you do it?' Kevin asked.

  'Jus' do,' Taipan said.

  'I can't.'

  'Ever tried?'

  'No,' Kevin conceded. 'I never thought to. I've seen, you know, in movies, rats and bats and stuff.'

  'You'd rather eat a rat?' Taipan shook his head.

  'I've got a lot to learn.'

  'Yeah, you ain't wrong 'bout that.' And then he relented. 'C'mon, time to go home.'

  THIRTY-TWO

  They sped through the night, hour after hour, meeting only a few road trains. The long double-decked trailers reeked of cow shit and diesel. People out west tended to avoid driving at night, and when they did, they liked to have a tonne of bullbar and serious spotlight wattage out front. The roadsides were littered with dead kangaroos, the occasional bullock and even one emu, and more modern road kill - vehicles, burned out or stripped, victims of distance and too little maintenance. Signposts urged drivers to beware of livestock and other silhouetted animals, to 'revive and survive', and warned of fatigue zones and accident black spots, but Taipan was having none of that. Kevin found the drive nerve-wracking, and he was glad of some small reprieve when Taipan pulled up at a service station.

  'Keep an eye out, I gotta make a call,' Taipan said as he dismounted. 'Then we'll fuel up and be on our way, eh.'

  'You got a mobile? Can I call home?'

  'You can't use this one. Wait over there.' He waved toward a wall. 'And keep ya face covered if you go near them bowsers.' He pointed to a security camera.

  Kevin swore under his breath, but went. He watched, increasingly dumbfounded, as Taipan sat at a picnic table, rested his head on his forearms and, apparently, took a nap.

  'Fuck this,' Kevin muttered and went to the loo, pissed a pathetic, pinkish dribble and washed his face. A rank urinal was one of those times he wished he could dial down his sense of smell. He hobbled out in his new sneakers. They'd found a reasonable fit among Taipan's stash of spare clothing; he could imagine that fleshy jelly filling out inside the shoe like a mould. He hoped his body knew how to make toes.

  A young man in a service station uniform approached Taipan, still slumped at the table.

  'Shit.' Kevin limped over.

  The attendant gingerly reached out to shake Taipan's shoulder. The biker didn't stir.

  'Hey,' Kevin shouted.

  The attendant looked around. 'Is he pissed? I could report him, you know.'

  'He's just tired. Long drive.'

  'You his mate, are ya?'

  'Yeah, I guess.'

  He snorted. 'Well, he can't sleep here.'

  'Haven't you ever heard of a driver reviver?'

  Taipan sat up, wiped his face, blinked. 'Problem?'

  The young man stared at him, opened his mouth to say something. Taipan stared back. The attendant closed his mouth, mumbled 'Fine' and slouched away.

  'You got the bike filled?' Taipan asked.

  'You said to watch your back.'

  'Good job you did'a that. Pull up a pew, Hoppy. I'll look after it, eh.'

  Kevin was too frustrated to sit down. He hadn't seen Taipan use a phone at all - had the biker waited for him to take a leak? What kind of bullshit was this? He walked over to where he could see inside the servo. There was a pay phone just inside the door. It struck him that he'd lost a chance; he could've reverse charged. Damn Taipan, keeping him rattled. The biker went in - he was actually going to pay. Probably wanted to put the wind up the attendant again. Kevin turned away as money changed hands. He didn't want Taipan to think he was spying.

  When Taipan returned, Kevin was studying a faded road map painted on a signboard. Peeling pink lines stretched out from the arrow saying, 'You are here'. West to Longreach, east back to Rockhampton, Barlow's Siding unmarked but far to the south-west.

  'Find yourself yet, fella?' Taipan asked, and Kevin wasn't entirely sure he meant geographically.

  'Why did you do it, really? Why did you do this to me if it's all so dangerous?'

  Taipan started to roll a cigarette. 'I told you, didn't I?'

  'Tell me again.'

  'I cut a deal with ya old man.'

  'And you really don't know who killed him.'

  'N
ot even in me blood. You shoulda seen that much.'

  'I see all sorts of stuff, but I've got no control over it. It just hits me-' he slammed a fist into his hand. 'Christ, I can hardly tell who's who; whether I'm them or they're me.'

  'Ghosts,' Taipan said. 'We all get 'em. They live in the blood, eh. Not alla them. Most don't stick. But some, because you took a lot, because there's some connection maybe, they stay.'

  'How do you deal with it? These other lives, popping up all the time.'

  'My mob are kinda used to that. Time don't always work the same way for them.'

  'Huh?'

  He tapped his nose.

  'So if I've got your blood, I should have that power, too.'

  'Maybe. I don't have no country. No people, either.' The words fell, bitter, like juice gone off. 'I thought this, that bein' like this would open that to me. Would reveal it outta me blood. But it didn't work like that. That bitch flooded me. There's more'a her in me than there is'a me.'

  'Big gamble.'

  'She made me sister. Only way I could save Willa was to become like them.'

  'Big gamble,' Kevin repeated.

  'Never been much of a gambler.' He rubbed his chest, that reflex drawing his hand - but now Kevin wondered if it was the recent stab wound Taipan still felt, or if it was something deeper, the type of wound to the heart that not all the vampire blood in the world could heal. Not without leaving a scar, anyway. 'Mother'll help you deal with alla that. She knows about this stuff, eh.'

  'So, this Mother - is she the one who, you know, the one who turned you into - you know?'

  Taipan laughed. 'Nah. You woulda seen the bitch that did.' He put a finger to his forehead. 'Jasmine Turner, her name is. I'll be seein' her 'bout that one day.

  'Mother, she ain't like that. She's plenny old, older than Jasmine even. Mother is jus' what we call her, eh. When I seen her for the first time, I was plenny fucked up. As fucked up as a bloodsucker can get. But she set me right. Helped me control me anger. Helped me make up for alla bad shit I done.' He exhaled a cloud of smoke. 'Well, maybe not alla it.'

  'So how much longer until we get there?'