Marked

by Denis Martin

Faster! For God’s sake, faster!

  Desperately, I piled on the power and felt the back wheel spinning, shingle flying as the bike snaked sideways beneath us.

  “They’re catching up!”

  I’d been trying to miss the potholes, but now I was thrusting the big bike straight at them, bucking, bouncing and scrabbling for traction. Like fighting a living thing. Behind me on the seat, Kat was a leaden weight – every time I lifted myself from the pedals to ease the ride, her grip would pull me down. Couldn’t use my weight to balance the bike. And always, the butt of that gun she was clutching, hard against my navel. I hoped she had checked the safety catch.

  I knew they were catching us. Even in the mirror I could see that. It’s hopeless. What are you gonna do, Kat? Shoot it out with them?

  Suddenly, as we snaked our way through a steep bend, a sliver of hope appeared. The foot track leading off to the beach. Wide enough for the bike, but no way could they follow us in that big Pajero.

  “Hang on!” I kicked us down a gear and veered to the left, plunging onto the track. Too fast. I braked heavily and belted the gear lever down another notch. The path seemed narrower than I remembered. Sharp turns, exposed tree roots and ruts like judder bars. Leaves and branches slapping us and plucking at us. But we were leaving the road behind. And the Pajero.

  How long before they realise they’ve lost us?

  Not long at all, I knew. One thing they weren’t was stupid.

  The track was even rougher than the road, climbing to the lookout on the ridge and then dropping down to the beach. Even in the lower gears we were going much too fast. But we hung in there, and I knew we were covering the ground a lot quicker than we would on foot.

  Then the track twisted into a gully, through a muddy stream bed, steepening into a series of wooden steps. I’d forgotten about them, and neither of us was ready. I stood on the pedals as the bike bucked over the treads but Kat’s weight kept pulling me down. She was bouncing wildly, and we were thrown off balance. I throttled back in a panic. Too late though. The front wheel skidded out from under me and I knew I was losing it. I stuck my leg out, flailing to keep the bike upright, but it was too heavy. The engine was screaming, and there was a wrenching pain in my knee as something snatched at my foot. Then I was sliding, tumbling, the trees above spinning crazily against the sky. A branch whacked me in the chest, and I heard the big motorbike crashing through the foliage.

  But I wasn’t on it any more. I was doubled over the branch that had plucked me out of the seat. I needed air – my lungs wouldn’t work. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. And my chest screamed in agony when I tried. My head was filled with noise – hissing, gurgling, gasping. Then it faded, and I could hear someone calling. “Cully?” It was Kat, her voice faint and frightened. “Cully, are you all right?”

  I wanted to answer, but I couldn’t.

  Her face appeared against the sky. “Cully! Say something … please!”

  I struggled for a moment, and then found I could breathe again. Painfully. “I’m okay … I think.”

  “Well, you don’t look it.” She was bending low over me now, eyes bulging in a pale, worried face. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Winded. Just give us a minute.” My lungs were starting to gear up again, but I stayed doubled over to ease the hollow leaden pain in my gut and then passed a hand gingerly over my chest. A dull agony there, but I didn’t think there was serious damage now I was breathing again. I sat up carefully and clasped both arms around my middle. When I rocked gently back and forth it seemed to help. And rotating my shoulders eased things a bit too.

  “Where’s the … Where did the bike end up?” I asked. She peered over my shoulder, down the slope.

  “Don’t know. Heard it going a long way down. Could be on the beach.” Finally, I remembered my manners. “How about you? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Somehow I got off – fell off – before it went over. Grazed my–” She stopped abruptly, and we both froze. Fear-stilled silence.

  Someone talking. Quite close on the track above us. “Copy, Fido? Copy?” A pause. “Fido, do you copy? Come in, will you, dammit?”

  We could hear footsteps now too. Kat raised a finger to her lips, and I nodded. How stupid did she think I was?

  “Bloody thing!” He was above us and we cowered below the track, hugging the clay bank. Too scared to even look up.

  “Copy, Fido?” We heard the crackle of voice static in reply. He was talking on a handheld radio. “Yeah, that’s better. Just a dead spot on the track.” More crackle, but nothing we could make out. “No. No sign of them. Reckon they’ve gone all the way down. Not gonna catch them on foot. Okay if I come back up?” The receiver crackled again, and the man listened. “What? You think they’re trying to find a boat?” Another crackled response. “You gonna tell Rastas to keep in close? Check the shoreline on the way around? If he lands on the beach, he can help us search.” We lost whatever else was said because he started moving again, pounding his way heavily back up the track.

  I’d forgotten the pain in my chest, but now it flooded back and I realised I’d been holding my breath. “Holy hell. Thought he was gonna see us,” I whispered, pressing a hand to my ribs.

  “Me too,” muttered Kat. “Or the skid marks. He can’t have been looking.” She scrambled onto her knees. “What now?”

  “Dunno. Don’t fancy going back up the track, not with him up there. But they’ve worked out we’re trying to get to a boat, so what d’you think? And what was all that about landing on the beach?”

  “Sounds like they’ve got someone out there keeping an eye on the coastline. Their own boat?”

  “Or a chopper maybe?”

  “Anyway, it doesn’t make much difference if we’re stuck here. How you feeling? Can you move?”

  “Yeah.” I stretched myself upright, wincing as my ribs ground themselves into broken glass. The searing sharpness passed quickly though, and I was left with a dull pain. “Not that flash, but I’m okay.” I grabbed the base of a sapling and pulled myself gingerly to my feet. “Come on. They’ll find us if we stay here.”

  Kat gave me a hand up the bank, her arm under my shoulder. I didn’t need it, but I wasn’t going to object. We squatted on the edge of the path, searching the slope. Couldn’t see any sign of the bike, but its skid marks cut an angry groove in the edge of the track. How that searcher with the radio had missed it was beyond me. I twisted my shoulders from side to side experimentally.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  I gave her the nearest thing to a grin I could manage and nodded. “It’ll be dark pretty soon, won’t it?”

  “Yeah, should be.” She angled her watch to the light. “Why?”

  “I reckon we should still head for the beach. Stay out of sight down there till we know the coast is clear, and then see if we can get Jed’s boat into the water. When it gets dark.”

  She fired me a sharp look, thinking. Then she clambered to her feet, pausing to peer back up the track. “Come on, then. We’d better make a move.” I stood up to follow her, but she’d only taken a couple of paces when she stopped and whirled towards me. “Damn!” She was fumbling furiously in her front pocket. “The gun. Must’ve dropped it. Can you see it anywhere?”

  Kat retraced her steps up the path, checking from side to side, while I searched the slope below. It was a steep clay bank merging with dense undergrowth and I could see where the motorbike had crushed a path through the foliage. But there was no sign of the gun. And if it was down there, we’d be lucky to find it.

  “Shit!” I said “It could be anywhere.”

  She joined me on the edge of the track. “I wanted that gun.”

  I shrugged. Really though, I wasn’t too unhappy to see the last of it. I was more worried about my knee. It was stiffening where I’d wrenched it falling off the bike, and I wasn’t sure I’d be the quickest kid out of the blocks if we ran into trouble.

  It was scary making our way down through the bush.
The sun had long gone, winging its way behind the western slopes and, beneath the tree canopy, light was fading to a sinister gloom. Deep shadows and a threatening quiet.

  Except, of course, it wasn’t quiet. Every soft rustle or breeze murmur in that forest was the stealthy movement of a hidden thug, and every bird call took on an evil note of warning. Were they really bird calls? Or the furtive signals of searchers lying in ambush?

  Kat’s imagination seemed to be running just as wild. Ahead of me on the track, she’d freeze at the slightest sound, nervous eyes scanning the bush. At every bend she’d pause warily, fearful of what lay beyond. My pulse was racing as I followed her, and I felt guilty. We ought to be sharing the lead.

  “Hang on,” I whispered at last, touching her on the shoulder. She stopped, turning side on, but her eyes were still watchful, like a bird when it’s disturbed. I put my lips to her ear. “Why don’t we leapfrog? Play it safe. Take it in turns to go ahead, and then signal each other on if it looks all right.”

  “Okay.” She nodded. “D’you want to go first?”

  “Yeah.” That was a lie. I didn’t want to go at all. “And if the one in front gets rumbled, the other one runs like hell. Okay?”

  It was scary moving down that track alone and then waiting as Kat passed me, tiptoeing on ahead. Scary, but safer.

  When we heard them, I was in the lead.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  They weren’t making any attempt to keep quiet – and that was the most frightening thing. I heard the engine first, then car doors slamming. The Pajero was down on the beach.

  We could hear them talking too, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was terrifying though, listening to them. As if they wanted us to hear, as if they were hoping we’d panic. Break cover and make a run for it. And if we’d been hiding down there by the beach, I think we probably would’ve.

  Kat wasn’t far behind me when we first heard them, and we dived off the track together, a sprawling tangle hidden in the undergrowth. We’d expected to come across them eventually, but it was still a shock. I could feel her, tense and trembling beside me, and my whole body was thumping as my pulse rate red zoned. Somehow, I’d twisted my knee again scrambling for cover. It was throbbing, but I ignored it. More important things on my mind.

  “I can see them,” whispered Kat.

  She moved aside slightly and pointed. I could see them too through a gap in the foliage. We were much closer to the bottom than I’d thought, and the Pajero was only a couple of hundred metres away, parked on the sand.

  A man was leaning against the bonnet. Jeans, a bomber jacket – and a pair of binoculars. He was searching the beach, sweeping the foreshore. A second man came into view and they stood together in front of the Pajero. The one with the binoculars continued to scan the coastline, and I thought the other one was talking to him. Finally, the glasses were lowered. They were gazing along the beach below us, and pointing. Then they turned, peering the other way. Again, one of them was pointing, but I couldn’t see what they were looking at. The one with the binoculars walked around the Pajero and opened the driver’s door. He reached into the front seat and then stood up, slipping something into his jacket. A gun? The two men parted company, one moving along the beach away from us, while the other came in our direction, moving out of sight below us.

  “Look …” breathed Kat beside me. “They’re searching the beach.”

  I didn’t answer. Eased myself into a sitting position and carefully straightened my knee. It was tender to touch and swollen, but I didn’t think it was going to cripple me. And most of the pain in my chest had gone.

  Kat was thinking, her bunched knuckles pressed against her teeth. “That Pajero’s just sitting on the beach. Maybe we could nick it while they’re not there – get away in it.”

  “Great idea,” I said sarcastically, and she flashed me an angry look. “Sorry.” I was scrabbling to make up lost ground. “Too risky. We don’t know how many are down there. There could be others.”

  “There were only two of them in the Pajero when it came to the cottage.”

  “Yeah, but we know there are others. What about that guy Rastas?” No way was I going out there in the open to nick that four-wheel drive. “And the keys aren’t likely to be in it.”

  “You’re scared.”

  “Of course I’m bloody scared.”

  Kat put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “So am I. And it was a stupid idea.” She turned away, parting the branches to peer down at the Pajero. One of the searchers was visible in the distance, still moving away from us. No sign of the other one.

  “But we can’t stay here either.” She hooked her hands into her hair. “We’ve got to get away from here somehow. Get back to town and get help. They might’ve snatched Blissy. Even if we go to the cops–”

  “We’ll have to go to the cops. There’s no one else.”

  “No, I suppose there isn’t. Kreigler told us he was calling the company for backup. But even if they’ve sent someone, we wouldn’t know how to find them.” She clenched her fists, staring at them. “Anyway, we’ve got to get off this track. They’re not stupid. Soon as they work out we’re not on the beach and the motorbike’s not down there, they’ll come back up the track looking for us. And we need to be well out of here.”

  “Like where?”

  “Well, they’ll already have searched Jed’s shack. I know a good hiding place down there. I reckon we could get to it while they’re still out on the beach.”

  “What if there are more than two of them down there?” It sounded about as risky as stealing the Pajero.

  “Then we need to keep our eyes open.” She looked at me, eyes challenging. “Got a better idea?”

  I shook my head. “No. But we can’t stay here. Those bastards could be coming back anytime.”

  She was right about the hiding place. It had been built for the job, like a secret cellar. “There’s an old still in here,” whispered Kat, pushing aside a section of shelving. A false wall with a dimly lit space behind it.

  “A what?”

  “A still. For making whisky.”

  We were inside the old stone hut that Jed used for storing his home-brew. It was nestled into the bank behind his shack, a dank, gloomy lean-to, stinking of cannabis and stale beer. But I was glad of it. Coming down that last bit of track had been really frightening, and I was jumpy as hell. We’d made it. Nobody had shot at us, no sign they’d even caught sight of us. We’d eased ourselves through the opening, into a tiny hiding place. Not much more than a cupboard. It was less than a metre deep by about two metres, stretching across one end of the shed. The only light seeped in through a tiny panel of frosted glass set in the roof. Even smaller than a cupboard, because one end was completely taken up with a copper tank and a weird spiral of copper pipe rising to the ceiling. Kat slid the wall section shut.

  “Bloody hell,” I whispered. “How did you find out about this?”

  “Jed showed me. The old codger who used to live here. He made whisky in it, way back in the old days when alcohol was illegal. That’s why it’s all so well hidden.”

  “Wow. They’ll never find us in here. We could stay put till they go away.”

  “Yeah. But first chance we get, we ought to make a move. Need to think about Blissy.” Kat eased herself to the floor and sat leaning against the wall, arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest. I sank down beside her. She mumbled something to herself, and I missed it.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking I haven’t done too well lately. Not to the people around me.” She swallowed, but it might’ve been a sob.

  “What d’you mean?” I whispered. “I reckon you’ve been bloody marvellous.” I looked at her, but in the gloomy light, I couldn’t work out what she was thinking. Something was rustling inside the wall. Rats, I guessed. I wiped the remains of a spider’s web out of my hair and shuddered.

  “I never trusted Jed,” she muttered at last. “Not really. W
hen he showed me this cubbyhole, I wouldn’t come in here with him – scared he’d try it on. Blissy reckoned he was a good mate, but even she had a few doubts. She’d heard stories about him. And when you told me he’d been in my bedroom, I could’ve killed him!” She lapsed into silence, and I could feel her trembling. Then she turned her head, her eyes shining in the dim light. “He didn’t have to go for that bastard!” she said, her voice cracking.

  “Shh!” I gripped her arm, whispering. “Keep it down.”

  “Sorry.” She laid her hand on mine, and then took it away, lowering her voice. “But he didn’t. He could’ve made a run for it. He knew that creep had a gun, but he went for him anyway – and all he had was a jack handle. Trying to protect me – and that bastard shot him.”

  “Bloody hell, Kat, you can’t blame yourself.”

  “No, I didn’t shoot him. But I could’ve trusted him. He was always good to me – and I should’ve had a bit more faith in him. He deserved that.” She took her face in her hands.

  I didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t think of anything that would help. I shuffled around to face her and took her arms in both hands. “Cut it out, Kat. He reckoned you were wonderful.”

  She sniffed. “Just makes it worse. And it’s not just Jed. What about the way I treated Kreigler? Wouldn’t do anything he said. Treated him like shit. But he was really good to us too. He’d have done anything for us, and they killed him.” Another sniff. “Don’t put yourself out for me – you’ll end up dead.”

  I slid my arm right around her shoulders and held her against me. She didn’t object. I’m not sure if she even noticed. “You did try to warn me,” I said softly. “You did tell me to keep my nose out of your business.”

  We stayed like that for quite a while. Huddled together on the floor of that cubbyhole, Kat with her thoughts, me with mine. How the hell had I got into this? Caught up in something I didn’t understand – something much too big to get my mind around. And was Leatherman right? Was I just a sex-crazed kid chasing a good-looking girl? Would I be here if Kat had been fat, feeble and frumpy? Didn’t like that idea. Too many questions, mostly with answers buried deep in a nightmare. None of my thoughts was any help, and eventually I had to move. My swollen knee was aching in that cramped position, and I needed to stretch it. I stood up, gently flexing my leg. And then froze. Voices.