by M. J. Kelly
Jules turned to Shiv, her eyes pleading. His forehead creased and he stared at the floor.
“Shiv?” Maxine raised her eyebrows.
Shiv blinked, then after a moment he shuffled across to the bar, pulled open a drawer, and extracted a pair of pruning shears. The silver blades glinted in the light, and looked razor sharp.
“No!” Jules stood with a hand on her hip. “Shiv! Stop it!”
Shiv flinched.
Chook leapt from his seat and ran for the stairs, but the bald-headed thug tackled him to the ground, placed a knee in his back, and twisted his arm backwards.
“Do it,” Maxine said. “Now.”
Shiv clenched his jaw and moved across to kneel beside Chook.
Jules ran at him. She only managed a few steps before the thick-jawed thug caught her around the waist and dragged her backwards. “Let...me...go!” she shouted, and flailed at his arms. Chook struggled on the floor, wriggling and grunting, trying to free himself.
“Please Shiv,” Jules sobbed.
Maxine stood beside Shiv. The smoke from her cigarette wafted into his face. “Do it.”
Chook moaned as the thug yanked his arm up into the small of his back.
“If you do it we’re over,” Jules screamed, and Shiv momentarily closed his eyes. The hand that held the pruning shears was shaking, and it faltered to his side. For a second all were still.
Maxine sighed. “You stupid boy.” She stepped forward and pushed her cigarette into the side of Shiv’s cheek. There was a sizzling sound, and Shiv flinched away in a grimace. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Maxine snarled again. “Do it!”
Shiv nodded. His lips were thin as he lifted the shears to Chook’s finger, and squeezed the handles together.
There was a crunching sound and Chook howled. The men released their hold and he rolled to one side, clutching at his hand. Blood was smeared across the floor in a crimson arc, and at the end of it, a bloodied finger lay forlorn in the centre of the tiles.
Jules was released, and she ran across the room to her brother and hugged him, burying her head in his shoulder. “I’m…sorry,” she sobbed.
Dig sat frozen in his seat. A mouthful of bile threatened to rise in his throat, but he fought it down.
Maxine delicately retrieved the finger from the floor, and held it up to the light. “There. That should remind you to keep strangers out of our business.”
Chook sat huddled on the floor, supporting his arm, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Maxine grinned and hummed under her breath. She turned to the dog by the door. “Digit!” she exclaimed in a high pitched voice. “I have a snackie for you!” The dog pricked up its ears. “Fin-gers!” she sung in a melodic tone, waggling the appendage in the air.
The dog trotted across the room to sit obediently beside Maxine. “See?” she said, and held the finger down to the dog. “A nice fresh one.” The dog lifted its head and plucked the finger from her grasp. It chewed twice, then tipped its head back and swallowed it, before licking its lips and cocking its head.
“You sick bitch,” Jules sobbed.
Maxine patted the dog’s head. “You still hungry? Well that’s okay. We still have a few snackies left for you. In fact, our Australian visitor won’t be needing any fingers in the near future.”
She turned to Shiv. “It’s his turn.”
Shiv looked up, blank-faced and bleary eyed. He nodded, and the thick-jawed thug sidled toward Dig on the couch.
Dig stood up. His heart thumped and adrenaline coursed through his veins. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but his path to the stairs and balcony were blocked. A hand clamped around his elbow. His eyes turned to the open lift shaft, and he took a quick intake of breath. He knew what to do.
He jammed a hand into his pocket and fished around inside. His hand eventually grasped what he was looking for, and he held it tightly.
The thug dragged Dig to the centre of the room and dumped him face first onto the tile. A knee pressed into his back, and a sickly, wet warmth soaked into his midriff; Dig guessed he was lying in Chook’s blood.
Maxine stood over him, smiling. Her cigarette dangled from her hand. The dog sat beside her, its tongue lolling in time with its breath. Shiv knelt beside Dig, shears ready.
Dig met Maxine’s eyes for a moment, then he turned to the animal.
“Digit!” he said, mimicking Maxine’s high pitched voice from earlier. “Fin-gers!” He extracted his prize from his pocket—the piece of dried chouricos sausage from his trip over to Anjuna, and threw it across the room.
The sausage bounced once, then skidded across the tile, tracking through the smear of blood before it came to a stop at the edge of the lift shaft.
The dog bound up and ran across the room, chasing the sausage, its claws clicking over the tiled floor.
“Digit!” Maxine shouted. “Come here!” But the dog kept going, scurrying across the floor. As it approached the sausage it pushed its front paws out to stop. But, instead of halting, the paws landed in the pool of blood and the animal slid forward across the tile.
“Stop him!” Maxine screamed, but it was too late. The dog skated across the bloodied floor with its ears pinned back to its head, turning clockwise as it scrambled for purchase on the wet tile. It reached the edge of the shaft, tipped backwards over the drop, and disappeared.
“Digit! Mummy’s coming!” Maxine ran to the shaft, the fat on her hips jiggling through the fabric of her sari as she moved. She reached the opening and knelt down. “Are you okay?” A pained howl echoed from deep within the shaft.
Maxine turned quickly. “Come on!” she shouted at the thug holding Dig. “Go get him!”
Dig felt the grip on his neck release and the thick-jawed thug ran for the stairs and disappeared. The bald-headed man moved to the stairway entrance, blocking it.
Dig pushed himself to his feet and glanced around the room. “Come on!” he shouted to Jules and Chook, and ran for the balcony.
Shiv’s eyes widened and he dashed to the balcony doorway, trying to block Dig’s exit.
Dig ran straight at him, clenched his teeth and dropped his shoulder forward, slamming Shiv in the centre of the chest. He sent him crashing into the bar with a clatter of broken glass.
Dig pushed through the balcony doorway and skidded to a stop at the handrail. He surveyed the beer garden below, a collection of plastic chairs and tables amongst gnarled trees and waist-high brick walls. The tables were half occupied, and beer bottles were strewn across the surfaces. Dig grasped the handrail and hoisted himself over the edge.
He dropped through the air and landed on a table. It imploded under his weight, spraying beer bottles to the floor. Something hard ripped at his lower back before he thumped into the ground.
Jules’ feet dangled above him before she dropped. He pushed to his knees and tried to support her fall, but her rear caught him across the shoulder, knocking him back to the ground. He took a couple of ragged breaths.
Chook crashed down to his left, pulverising another plastic table full of bottles, then lay on his back, eyes squinted in pain, cradling his hand.
Dig scampered over to him, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go!” Chook nodded, and Dig slung Chook’s arm around his neck and dragged him toward the car park.
“Keys,” Chook panted. “My pocket.” Dig reached into Chook’s pants pocket and removed a key tied to a strip of leather.
As they reached the car park, Chook pointed to a battered trail bike. The three squeezed together on the seat, with Dig at the helm, Jules behind him, and Chook at the rear. The seat buckled under their combined weight as they sat down. Dig turned the key in the ignition and the bike roared to life.
From behind them, Shiv burst through the outside door of the bar, breathing hard. He spotted them and ran.
“Go!” screamed Jules. Dig looked down at the pedals on the bike. He pressed a backward lever and it clunked into gear.
“Can you driv
e this thing?” she shouted.
“I’m learning!” Dig released the clutch. The motor screamed and the bike jerked forward, lifting the front wheel from the ground before it thumped back down. Dig wrestled the controls straight again and steered the bike toward the main road. As they passed over a pothole the rear wheel guard bottomed out with a crunch.
Dig pulled back the throttle, heading out of town. The bike strained under the combined weight of the three passengers, and Jules clung tightly to Dig’s midriff.
“Where to?” Dig shouted.
“The railway station,” Chook screamed. “Just keep going straight.”
“My place first,” Jules said.
“No time!”
“Just give me thirty seconds. It’s just up here—that white building.”
Dig furrowed his brow. “Shouldn’t we just go?”
Jules pulled in close behind him; the swell of her breasts pushed up against his back. She spoke into his ear. “Please, just let me get my bag.”
Dig swallowed, blinked, and steered the bike off the road, bringing it to a stop outside the boxy concrete building. Thick mesh barred its windows. Jules jumped down from the bike.
“Shit Jules!” Chook said. “Hurry up!”
She jogged to the front porch and fumbled some keys into a lock, then swung open a heavy metal door before disappearing inside.
Dig looked to the road behind him, scanning for any signs of Shiv or his friends. He rapidly tapped his foot on the ground. “Come on,” he said under his breath.
Moments later, Jules burst through the door again, carrying a multi-coloured, hand woven bag. She left the door open behind her as she ran across the drive and jumped back onto the bike. Dig accelerated back out onto the road.
The road was long and flat, and cut through long stretches of rainforest and palm trees. Dig drove as fast as the bike would allow. He squinted and ducked his head forward as moisture from his watering eyes tracked back across his face. Jules sat close behind him, arms tightly around his waist. He imagined Chook on the back end of the machine, likely holding onto the rear frame of the bike with only one hand, the other cradled against his chest.
After some time, small brick shacks began to appear on the side of the street, and the road narrowed into a level crossing over a railway line. A set of open boom gates stood on both sides of the track. Beside it was a platform and station building.
“Left here,” Chook said, pointing to a dirt alleyway that disappeared behind a row of buildings. Dig pulled into the alleyway, and brought the bike to a stop beside a set of rusted steps. Dig killed the engine and kicked up the bike stand.
Chook was off the bike first, and he stumbled over to sit on the bottom riser of the steps. His face was pale; his injured hand still cradled on his chest. Blood ran down his arm to his elbow. He reached into a pocket with his good arm and produced a packet of cigarettes. As he fumbled out a cigarette with a shaking hand the box fell to the ground and bounced away. He watched it falter to a stop, then grimaced and closed his eyes.
Jules stepped down from the bike and walked over to Chook. “Arms up,” she said, then grabbed his T-shirt and lifted it over his head. She wiped the blood from his arm and tied the T-shirt tightly around his injured hand.
She crouched and lifted the cigarette box from the ground, shook out a cigarette and placed it in Chook’s mouth, then extracted a lighter from inside the box, and flicked a flame into life. The end of the cigarette glowed orange as it fired up. Jules sat beside him on the step.
“How’s the hand?”
Chook rolled his glassy eyes. “Sore.”
“We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Not in Goa. That’s the first place they’ll look.” He clenched his teeth as another wave of pain overtook him. “I think there's a train due, heading north. We’ll find somewhere up there.”
“Can you wait that long?”
“I'll have to.”
Dig cleared his throat. “Hey Chook.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about your hand. I...feel like it was my fault.”
Chook gave a weak shrug. “At least we're finally away from that place.” He turned back to his sister. “What did you take from the house?”
“Don't worry about it. Just clothes, and some money.”
“No gear?”
Jules frowned. “No.”
“You sure? Because if you stole any of Shiv’s stash you better dump it right here.”
“I told you I didn't. So leave it.”
Chook watched her for a moment then turned his attention to the train station. The entrance was filling up with people—milling in groups and squatting on the floor. “After I get my hand sorted we’re flying home. Back to Ireland. Right?”
She studied her fingernails and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
A low rumble approached from the distance and a dirty silver train laboured into the station, belching smoke and sounding its horn. It slowed to a stop with a hiss of brakes, and the passengers crowded around the doors.
“Let’s go.”
They picked up their packs and jogged out into the street, dodging motor rickshaws and taxis until they reached the busy station lobby. People jostled for space around them.
They pushed out onto the platform, and headed for a door of the train. A porter offered to take their bags from them, but they waved him away. A dirty faced boy clasped packets to his chest and yelled “Pea...nuts!” into the open windows of the train. Behind him a man held a tray above his head, balancing glass cups filled with milky liquid. “Chai! Chai!” he cried in a low drone. They followed the tide of people into the train, and crouched inside the doorway.
Dig bit his lip and looked across the platform to the street. Disembarking passengers streamed out across the dirt road, loading bags into rickshaws and lining up in front of buses. He took a sharp intake of breath as a motorbike screamed around the corner and skidded to a halt beside the station. Shiv dropped the bike to the ground and strode toward the train. Two more motorbikes appeared behind him with the silhouettes of the thugs in the seats.
“They’re coming,” Dig said.
Jules’ eyes widened. “Oh shite.”
“Get down.”
Somewhere a whistle blew, and with a shudder the train moved forward. Through the open door they watched the platform creep away beside them. They hunkered low in the carriage until it rolled past the station building. Shiv stood in the forecourt, hands on hips, breathing heavily as he scanned the train. He locked gaze with Dig through the doorway. His eyes widened before he leapt forward and ran at them.
The train picked up pace with a couple of strong jerks. Dig rose to a standing position. Jules whimpered behind him.
Shiv ran into view and grabbed the door railing, his shoes slapping along the platform as he tried to pull himself inside.
Dig leaned back and kicked. His foot thumped into Shiv’s arm and broke his grasp. Shiv momentarily disappeared into the wake of the doorway then sprinted back into view to reach for the railing again.
Dig kicked a second time, his foot thumping into Shiv’s chest—but this time Shiv held firm to the rail with clenched teeth and eyes like pinpricks.
Chook dragged himself up to stand beside Dig, his good hand holding the corridor wall for balance. He nodded at Dig and they kicked together this time, their feet thumping into Shiv’s midriff.
Shiv winced and let go, but as he dropped he hooked two hands around Chook’s ankle. Chook tried to kick him away but Shiv held tight, his feet scraping along the platform behind the train. Chook called out as he was dragged through the doorway, and Dig scrambled to grab hold of his good hand. Chook grimaced and held his grasp with a bulging forearm; his forehead was creased in fear.
“No!” Jules shouted, and tried to grab a handful of Chook’s shirt. Together they strained to pull him back in the carriage—but Shiv’s weight anchored him back.
The carriage accelerated toward the end of the platform whe
re a metal fence bordered the drop to the tracks. The gap between the train and the fence was minimal, and threatened to guillotine Chook’s waist.
Dig yanked again to no avail. Chook glanced ahead to the approaching fence, his long hair blowing across his face in the slipstream, then turned back to meet his sister’s gaze. With a final furrow of his eyebrows he released his grip. His hand slipped out of Dig’s sweaty grasp and he fell.
“No!” Jules screamed, her face contorted. She pushed to the doorway as the end of the platform ran away to be replaced by a blur of steep rocky embankment.
Dig leaned out behind her. Chook tumbled across the platform and collapsed in a static heap. Behind him, Shiv pushed himself up to his knees as the thugs arrived and hooked their hands under Chook’s armpits.
“We’ve got to help him.” Jules shouted, and glanced down to the rocky ground speeding past.
Dig put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t jump. It’s too late. You’ll break your legs.” She gave him a pained look then stared back at the platform as it receded into the distance.
Finally she dropped to her rear in the train doorway, hooked her hands into the inside of her knees and curled up with her eyes clenched. Her shoulders hitched in sobs.
Crap, Dig thought. He squatted beside Jules and watched the passing scenery run away at an ever increasing speed. We’re in it deep now.
13
JULES’ SOBS EVENTUALLY DROPPED away, and she turned to lean back on the wall of the train corridor. Wet tracks ran down her cheeks.
“We need to go back and help him,” she repeated.
Dig pursed his lips. “We’ll help him somehow. But right now we’re stuck on this train until the next stop.”
“We can stop the train.”
“And do what? Head straight back to the bar? We’ll be massacred.”
Jules’ head dropped. “The next stop is miles away. It’ll be too late.”
“I think it’s already too late. We don’t even know where they took him.” Dig bit at his nails. “Should we call the police?”
“Not the Goa police. They’re on the Banyan payroll. They come into the brewhouse every month to pick up their payoffs.” Her eyes were sullen and shoulders slumped. “There must be something we can do.” She sat for a few minutes, staring out to the horizon.
