Desolation Game

by Greg McLean

  Fuck it. No loss.

  He waits until Stretch reaches down before diving down into the shallow pit he’s dug. In the soft, turned earth he places his hands over his head.

  There’s an explosion similar to the one that destroyed the tunnel entrance.

  There’s no scream.

  Mick scrambles out of the grave and runs over to Stretch.

  The private is lying on his back. His face and hands are like clumps of raw meat. Other areas are blackened, and there are cuts over his body where the fragments have sliced through his flesh.

  ‘That’s for the spider, you fuck,’ Mick spits.

  He notices Stretch’s brimless hat nearby. He steps over and picks it up. The sweat-stained bush hat is singed. The Don’t fuck with me: I’m a Nasho message is partly burnt, so now it simply reads: I’m a Nasho.

  Was a nasho, Mick thinks with a smile.

  His smile is cut short when he hears men from 13 Platoon racing up the hill. A small group soon appear, guns ready.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Lieutenant Patterson cries.

  ‘Stretch . . .’ Mick says, feigning shock. He’s still holding the private’s hat. ‘He’s . . . he’s dead.’

  The small group jogs over. Sarge and Sluggo are pale, their eyes round balls of white. While it’s clear that Stretch is dead, Nobby still checks his vitals, then turns to the others and shakes his head.

  ‘Fuck,’ Patto spits. ‘Didn’t you check the nogs, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘I did. I checked half of ’em and then we swapped over, and Stretch . . . I guess he didn’t . . .’

  Mick lowers his head.

  ‘Shit,’ Patto spits again. ‘Okay, forget burying them. We’re getting the fuck outta here. We’ll call for a dustoff to take Stretch. Nobby, Gary, you two stay with his body until the chopper arrives. The rest, come with me. Shit!’

  Mick looks back up and sees Sarge looking at him. He’s frowning, like he’s trying to work out a puzzle that he can’t quite crack.

  Mick turns away, grabs his gear and strolls down the hill.

  16

  Western Australia

  February 1968

  Bruce sat quietly in the passenger seat and listened while the policeman talked as they sped along the highway.

  Afterwards, he slumped and looked out the squad car’s window at the thick darkness. ‘I figured he was a nutter, but not to that extent.’

  Officer Ellis eased out a deep sigh. ‘I have no proof of any of this. Just what my brother-in-law told me. But Alex was sure he did it all, including killing his boss, Roberts. And Alex Kravic was as good a cop as he was a bloke, and he wouldn’t have voiced his suspicions if he wasn’t sure. I thought Taylor would be killed in ’Nam and then I’d never bring him to justice. I just can’t believe he’s back. And in the same area. I don’t know whether he’s dumb or just cocky. Thinks he can continue what he started, right under our noses. Well, fuck that. He’s a sick man. And he’ll pay.’

  Bruce turned and looked at the officer. The man’s face remained hard, like chiselled ice. He’d pulped a toothpick like he was chewing on a tough bit of steak.

  ‘A mine,’ Ellis spat. ‘Jesus. It’s smart, I guess. Far from anything. No one goes to them. Shit, I wonder if that’s where he was holed up last time. We thought he was shacked up with his whore, Rose, but now I wonder . . .’

  The police car sped down the highway with urgency. The headlights were on high, and they made the flat desert look like an orange ocean. The rain beat down, their wipers working overtime.

  Bruce knew it was going to be near impossible to find the dirt road. He racked his brain, trying to remember how far they had been towed before turning off the highway. All he had come up with was that it was a little ways north. But a little ways from nowhere wasn’t any help.

  ‘Still no sign of the road?’

  Bruce shook his head. ‘We may have already gone past it.’

  ‘We’ll find it.’

  Bruce didn’t share the policeman’s optimism.

  He thought once again about the others at the mine, at the mercy of the psycho. Mick had taken the keys to the Kombi and he’d probably taken the stash of weapons, too. Bruce could only hope that he hadn’t stumbled across the smaller bag containing the handguns. Maybe Duncan had managed to get them. At least then they’d stand a chance.

  Thinking about the guns, it occurred to Bruce that he should tell the policeman about their stash. They were all legal, so he had nothing to worry about.

  ‘I should warn you, we could arrive in the middle of a shoot out.’

  Ellis frowned at Bruce. ‘How’s that? I know Mick has a gun . . .’

  ‘So do we,’ Bruce said. ‘Two bags: one containing five rifles, the other with three handguns. For hunting purposes, part of the tour experience. Mick stole my keys when he attacked me, so he’s probably got the rifles. But he doesn’t know about the handguns. If my mate Duncan has managed to get them . . .’

  ‘I see,’ Ellis said, facing the front.

  Ellis slowed the car and pulled to the side of the highway.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Bruce asked.

  ‘If we’re close, we might be able to hear shooting.’

  Ellis turned off the engine and they hopped out. Rain pelted them – it was strong and steady. They listened. Even over the downpour, Bruce expected to hear reports of gunfire. But there was nothing but the rain beating against the car and desert.

  Ellis heard nothing either, so they got back into the car and continued down the dark highway.

  ‘Keep looking for that road,’ Ellis said. ‘It has to be around here somewhere. Even if we have to drive up and down the highway all night, we’ll find it.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Bruce muttered, and wondered what was going on in that round crater in the middle of the desert.

  Sam led the group as they ran across the mine. It took them a couple of minutes to locate the road that led out of the mine.

  They scrambled between the trailers, careful not to crash into the mining equipment and cars. It was difficult to see much of anything through the sleeting rain and the dark, moonless night. Difficult to keep a steady footing when running through muddy terrain.

  ‘I see it!’ Sam called. ‘This way!’

  He turned sharply to the right and started running.

  ‘Are you sure this is the best course of action?’ Amber shouted, sloshing through red puddles. ‘Maybe it’s better we hide somewhere, wait until Mick drives out into the desert.’

  The consensus had been to get out of the mine as quickly as possible – it was the most obvious decision – but sometimes obvious wasn’t always the best.

  ‘She’s right – there’s nowhere to hide out in the desert,’ Jewel said.

  ‘Stop whining and come on,’ Cindy said.

  ‘Jesus, he’ll be here any minute,’ Matt said, chugging alongside Amber.

  They splashed down the wide, wet road. As the road began to dip, most of them slowed, fearing that if they slipped they’d go sliding into one of the rock walls. Sam seemed oblivious and barrelled along in front.

  Jewel thought she could see something in the dark ahead. ‘Hey, what’s —?’ She was too late.

  Abruptly, Sam stopped running. He shook in mid-stride, like an invisible wall had suddenly appeared. Then he started screaming, a piercing scream, like the wind itself was dying.

  When they reached him, they all stared in disbelief at Sam’s squirming body, at the blood seeping from countless cuts and gashes.

  ‘Holy shit!’ Amber groaned, looking up at the fence. ‘That bastard.’

  From the ground to about seven feet high, strips of barbed wire had been strung across the road leading out of the mine. Like a giant, hapless fly, Sam had been caught in its razor-sharp web.

  Matt rushed to his father. ‘Dad, oh shit, Dad. Here, let me try and get you —’

  ‘No!’ Sam screamed. ‘No, don’t touch me.’

  The barbs had pierced the fle
sh in his legs, groin, stomach, chest, arms, hands and face. He was a human pincushion and at the sight of the barbs stretching the skin on the side of his face, drawing a steady stream of blood, Jewel turned away.

  ‘We’re trapped!’ Cindy cried. ‘He won’t let us leave!’

  ‘He’ll hear the screaming and be out here any moment,’ Amber said, face pale. ‘Jewel, what are we going to do?’

  ‘Run, that’s what,’ Cindy said. ‘Hide and hope the fucker doesn’t find you.’

  With a look of shock and fear plastered across her sopping face, Cindy turned and started running back the way they had come.

  ‘Cindy, come back!’ Amber said.

  She kept running and slipped over, sliding along the muddy ground.

  ‘Wait!’ Amber cried.

  But Cindy picked herself back up and ploughed on, soon disappearing amid the trailers and sheds.

  Sam groaned and then cried out.

  ‘Dad . . .’ Matt sobbed.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ Amber said.

  The thought of leaving Sam at the mercy of Mick sickened Jewel even more than the sight of his torn body. But she knew there was no helping him. They had to survive. They couldn’t let Mick win and staying here only meant certain death.

  Jewel nodded. ‘Sam. I’m so sorry, Sam.’

  She realised he’d passed out, but was so entwined in the barbed wire, even his dead weight couldn’t free him from the metal web.

  ‘Matt, come on,’ Amber said.

  ‘No,’ Matt said, softly. ‘I want to stay here.’

  ‘Your dad would want you to hide. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.’ Jewel stepped over and gripped the teenager by one wet, scrawny arm. ‘There’s nothing we can do for him now.’

  Matt’s body jerked with sobs.

  She tugged on his arm and he stood up with her help. The three of them started back up the track.

  ‘Where to?’ Jewel said, gazing around the mine. The cliffs that surrounded them seemed to have grown twice as tall – they were like earthen skyscrapers.

  ‘One of the trailers?’ Amber said.

  ‘There’s nowhere to hide in them.’

  When they passed the Kombi, Amber stopped.

  ‘No . . . Don’t . . .’ Jewel said.

  Amber choked back tears. ‘God, poor Duncan.’

  Looking at the van, Jewel thought about the guns, the ones Duncan and Bruce apparently kept for emergencies. If only they knew where they were kept – but they didn’t have time to search. They needed to hide, and do it soon, before Mick came after them.

  ‘Come on,’ Jewel said, and she took Amber by a cold, wet hand and pulled her away. The three of them scurried across the gloomy mine.

  When they passed the smaller shed, a hot, squirmy feeling ran through Jewel’s belly. She gazed over at the closed door. What was he doing in there? What was happening to Akira? She shuddered. It was impossible to imagine.

  In the distance, the walls of the mine loomed, high and dark. Jewel’s eyes were drawn to an especially black patch cut into the side of the hill. It took her a few moments to realise what it was she was seeing. She stopped and pointed towards the wall. ‘What about one of the mine shafts?’

  ‘Without a torch?’ Amber said, puffing. ‘There could be anything hiding in there.’

  Jewel glanced back at Matt. ‘What do you think? Try for the shaft?’

  Matt shrugged. ‘I dunno . . . I guess.’

  ‘I remember seeing a few scattered around. It’d take him a while to search them all. Seems like our best option.’

  Amber, drenched to the bone and shoulders slumped, nodded her resigned agreement. ‘Okay, lead the way.’

  They sloshed their way through the mud. The gaping mine entrance seemed a million miles away, a giant gulf separating them from possible safety. They were halfway there when Amber slipped and landed on her back, splashing orange mud and water over her clothes.

  ‘Just keep going to the mine,’ Jewel told Matt, and he hurried through the rain and disappeared into the black hole.

  Jewel grabbed hold of Amber by an arm and pulled her friend up with a groan.

  Amber had just regained her feet when the shed door opened.

  ‘Shit. He’s coming,’ Jewel whispered.

  They darted towards the mine entrance.

  ‘Five minutes is up!’ Mick shouted in the distance.

  The gunshot that Jewel was certain was imminent never came. They pushed into the darkness, both gasping in the dank surroundings.

  ‘I don’t think he saw us,’ Jewel said. ‘Matt? Are you here?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he muttered, sounding close by.

  ‘Okay, now what?’ Amber said. ‘We just wait here for him to find us?’

  Jewel took a moment to think. They only had two options, and it was clear to her which was the better of the two.

  ‘We should head down the shaft. We have to make it hard for him to find us. The deeper we go, the more likely he’ll think he’s made a mistake and give up.’

  ‘You’re hoping for a lot,’ Amber said.

  ‘We don’t have much else but hope.’

  ‘Okay, but how are we supposed to go into the tunnel without a light? What if there was a hole in the floor or something?’

  Jewel winced. Now was not the time to break a leg. ‘We need a torch.’

  ‘But we don’t have one.’ Amber sounded both frightened and exasperated.

  ‘There’s one in my bag,’ Jewel said.

  ‘And where’s your bag?’

  ‘In the shed.’

  Amber sighed. ‘What about Mick?’

  ‘Hang on.’ Jewel crept up to the edge of the mine. Keeping close to one side, she peered around the lip and looked out at the small shed.

  The door was open, spilling light outside. She gasped. Beside the door was a gruesome totem pole – a head stuck on a long wooden stick. Even from here she could see Akira’s mouth was agape, his skin drained to the colour of cream. Her mind screamed.

  Jewel blinked cold tears from her eyes. She knew she couldn’t let mortal fear overcome her if they were to have any chance of surviving. She couldn’t dwell on the horror of what was unfolding or paralysis would set in. They all had to try to keep their wits about them, somehow. She gulped a breath, which felt like her first in long while though it only been a moment.

  There was no sign of Mick.

  She ducked back into the blackness. ‘Mick’s not around,’ she said, throat tight. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll sneak into the shed and grab my torch.’

  ‘Hon, are you alright?’ Amber said. ‘You sound . . . strange.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, unable to get the image of Akira out of her head. ‘I’ll be back in a sec. Matt, you cool? If Mick comes, you’re right to run?’

  A silent pause, then: ‘Yeah. Whatever.’

  Jewel stepped up to the mouth of the mine shaft and looked around, and seeing that all was clear, she dashed out into the rain.

  Mick stood by his deadly barbed-wire fence and said, ‘Well, Sammy, you may have had some balls, but your eyes weren’t worth a shit.’ He snickered.

  Still, Mick had purposely made the wire thin so it would be harder to see in the darkness. The rain was a blessing. He guessed he had the spirits to thank for the unusual monsoonal weather. They must have known he liked the rain, felt at home in it. The downpour probably also helped to camouflage the barbed wire.

  Mick prodded the crucified figure; not surprisingly, Sam was dead. And he must have hit the fence at a speed, alright – the barbs had their hooks well into his body. Mick studied the wires closely for any sign of other blood or torn fabric, but the fence was clean. It looked like the others hadn’t attempted to escape down the hill.

  Leaving Sam’s corpse suspended, Mick turned around. The mine stretched before him, a dark crater in the middle of the dark desert moon.

  The rest of them were trapped in here, just like he wanted. Scared, hiding, waiting for death to find them.
Mick had been given the go-ahead by the spirits of the land. They had told him to kill, to spill as much blood as he wanted.

  When he’d spilled blood in ’Nam – and he’d spilled a lot of it – he’d wondered if he was ever going to be as happy back home. Now, thanks to the spirits, he’d found a way.

  Mick looked to the sky. With rain splashing against his face, he thanked the higher powers for this opportunity.

  For the first time in his life, he felt at home here in the outback.

  He spat a mouthful of rain to the ground and then rejoined his hunt.

  Jewel hurriedly searched her bag, tossing clothes and underwear aside. Where was it? She knew it was in there somewhere. Then she felt the hard plastic torch and whipped it out, and was relieved to confirm the batteries still worked.

  She kept her focus on her task, not letting herself take in the scene: the pooled blood; Akira’s body, beheaded. She was holding her breath against the strong smell of his messy death. Some impassive part of her mind steered her around the horror to the open door. She peeked around the corner.

  Mick was out there, striding through the rain, rifle clutched in both hands.

  Jewel ducked back into the shed and stood pressed against the metal wall, heart thumping in her ears.

  When she heard the sound of a trailer door banging shut, she peeled herself away from the wall and had another look outside. She couldn’t see him. She stepped quietly out of the shed, and again disengaged her rational mind from the confronting sight of Akira’s impaled head. She made for the mine shaft.

  She only got a few metres before she pulled up. The Kombi. The guns. This might be the only chance she had to see if she can get them.

  She raced over, flinging her head around for any sign of Mick. The sight of Duncan, sprawled on the muddy ground near the front of the bus, rain dumping on his lifeless body, caught her unawares. For a moment the petrifying terror came back, rising from within her.

  The top of his head was an explosion of matter. The sodden mess was all over the place – the rain had carried blood and brain far and wide in rivers of red.