The Year's Best Australian SF & Fantasy - vol 05

by Bill Congreve (ed) (v1. 0) (epub)

  Afterwards, Lana enveloped him in her breasts, her cheeks wet, mingling with his sweat. “We loved your father, Jimmy. He was a good man. Sorry Niki couldn’t be here. She sends her love.”

  Frank looked away, studying the fallen leaves, the ants crawling through tinderbrush. Niki hadn’t called. It was all over Frank’s face, even if Rhys hadn’t told him. The Old Man had been right about her. She was a City girl now; she wasn’t coming back to Shepp in any hurry. Fucken bitch.

  “Thanks, Aunty Lana.”

  Fitzy hadn’t shown either. One of his best mates. City wankers. Fuck them all. Fuck them all to hell.

  “Jimmy!” Grandpa held up his empty glass. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Coming up, Grandpa.” Jimbo snatched the glass and marched to Cranky McNabb’s stall. “Gimme a fucken bottle,” he snarled.

  ~ * ~

  Fragments, memories breaking apart in a swirl of alcohol ...

  Doors slamming.

  He remembered Uncle Frank leaving. The kitchen spun, the dangling light bulb a whir.

  “Don’t, James.” His mother? Someone crying.

  “Don’t, please ...”

  The bedroom, hot and rancid. The Old Man’s sweat wafting up from the mattress, dripping from the walls.

  His mother crying. Wiping Lana’s tears away.

  “You don’t know anything about me. If you knew, you wouldn’t -”

  Throwing Kylie across the bed. Screams.

  He remembered someone pounding on the bedroom door yelling his name.

  He ripped at her skirt, pinioning her legs with his own. She was strong.

  “No ...”

  He mashed at her breasts. Licked her throat.

  “You don’t know ...”

  Jimbo shouting. Ranting. “I don’t wanna know about you! I don’t need to know anything about you! Ya mine! Ya fucken mine!”

  Eyes wide, bulging.

  “James!”

  When she started screaming he smothered her mouth with his palm.

  Eyes, wide rolling. White.

  He struggled with his fly, trying to free his trapped cock. She went limp beneath him.

  “Niki?” Jimbo withdrew his hand from her mouth. “Niki?”

  He remembered a splintering sound as the bedroom door swung open. His mother, hammer in hand.

  “I’ve killed her!” Jimbo rolled from her body, legs tangled, and fell from the bed. He lay on his back, sobbing.

  “No.” His mother near the bed. “She’s still breathing.”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  Passed out on the bedroom floor, pants around his ankles, his cock still unused and now dormant, oozing a slow leak into his undies.

  He remembered little of his first unsuccessful attempt at making love to his new wife.

  ~ * ~

  Jimbo woke to bracing cold water thrown over his face. Light flooded the room, already hot, hard to breathe. Still on the floor.

  Keats stood over him. “Fucken lucky I was on shift last night, mate.”

  Jimbo tried to sit, pulling himself up next to the bed. His head pounded, his mouth a graveyard for sandpaper. “What happened?”

  “She tried to do a runner, mate. Knew ya were too pissed to control things. Father’s funeral n that, I understand. Caught her about four in the morning, running up the road just past ya driveway.” Keats whistled. “Good set a legs on her; she can fucken move, mate. If she tells ya I felt her up when I caught her then she’s a fucken liar.”

  “Ya felt her up?” Jimbo grimaced as the sunlight hurt his eyes.

  “Fuck no! Just if she says any shit like that, she’s just causing trouble. Mate, she’s ya fucken wife! I’m ya mate, fa fuck’s sake! Just ask Mason, he was there.”

  Jimbo struggled to his feet, the blood draining from his face as the room whited out for a second. He breathed deep, waiting for the room to return.

  Keats laughed again with a wink. “But if she wasn’t your wife, mate ... she’s hot.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Out in the kitchen with ya mum. Had to tie her up for a while but. That’s her first warning, mate. Ya told her what happens after three?”

  Jimbo shook his head, looking out from the bedroom doorway. At the other end of the house, Kylie sat hunched at the kitchen table, head buried in her arms, while his mother comforted her.

  “I’d think she already knows.”

  “Maybe so,” said Keats. “But it should come from the husband. From the man. Just so the record’s straight.”

  “Ya probably right.”

  “Not just probably. It’s the way it’s done.” Keats handed Jimbo his father’s wooden box. “Ya fucken lucky she didn’t get hold of this last night. You’d be dead by now.”

  “Thanks, Keats. I’ll do it tonight.”

  “No, ya fucken won’t.” Keats shoved Jimbo in the back, pushing him towards the kitchen. “Ya’ll do it fucken now. It’s us poor cunts on watch who have to deal with this shit. We’re helping you out, you fucken help us. It’s the way it’s done!”

  Mel glared at Jimbo as he approached the table. Her eyes darted towards the box in his hand, then she whispered into Kylie’s ear.

  “No,” Kylie moaned.

  “If you don’t, it will just make it harder,” said Mel.

  Jimbo sat opposite, pushing the salt and pepper shakers aside to make room for the box. Keat’s presence from the bedroom doorway pressed heavily against him.

  His mother glared at him again, mouthing the words, “What did I tell you? You stupid boy!”

  He buried the shame of last night, using Kylie’s flight to lend him conviction.

  “Kylie, I apologize for last night. With the Old Man dying n the wedding n all, I just wasn’t myself. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

  His mother nodded, her hands kneading Kylie’s shoulders.

  “You got to promise me something too. You’re mine now. You tried to escape last night. But that’s foolish, Kylie. What are ya gunna do? Run out into the desert with the Abos? There’s nowhere to go to.” Jimbo knew the words that followed by heart. They all did. “You’re part of my life now, for better or worse, in sickness and in health. You need to love and obey me.” He removed the lid of the box. A short knife lay cushioned in a dark stained cloth.

  “Look up, honey,” said Mel. “That’s a good girl.”

  Kylie lifted her head, her eyes raw and aching. Bruises purpled her jaw and throat.

  Jimbo took the knife, its handle worn and smooth, the blade thin and keen. The last time it had been used was before Jimbo had been born. His father had cleaned his mother’s blood off the blade with the cloth in the box.

  “This is your first warning, Kylie. You only have three. After that, with this knife I thee wed. Don’t make me do that.”

  Kylie stared at the knife. Snot dripped from her nose, blurred with tears. Her cheeks were blotched and streaked.

  “Do you understand?” said Jimbo.

  Kylie nodded.

  “I said, do you understand?”

  Mel bent to her ear and whispered.

  “I do,” Kylie rasped, her throat raw.

  Jimbo placed the knife back amongst the folds of cloth and closed the lid.

  ~ * ~

  A week later, Jimbo held Kylie down on his parent’s bed. She tried to bite between her screams, so he didn’t kiss her.

  With her arms pinioned above her head, he pushed her legs wide. She was too dry, but he had greased his cock. When he managed to force it inside her, she stopped resisting, stopped screaming.

  Jimbo kept thrusting until it was too uncomfortable, too raw, before he pulled out of his unconscious wife, thoughts of Niki reeling in his head.

  Some mechanical part of him registered blood on the sheets, that he had indeed got what he had paid for.

  It shouldn’t be like this. It can’t be like this.

  He realized he was crying.

  Later, when he needed to scrub himself cl
ean, he found his mother sitting in the kitchen with the lights off. She drank sherry, staring blankly at the curtains above the sink and said nothing.

  * * * *

  * * *

  Part V: Presentation of the Couple

  Winter lay a cool hand over the hot brow of the land, but still the rains never came. The cannery cut shifts and a third of the workers migrated to the orchards to prepare crops for the coming spring. Jimbo was lucky enough to keep his cannery job and toiled inside the factory, adjusting the machines as they pulped the autumn fruit. The smell in winter was bearable, as the pungent rot never set in as quickly or stunk so bad.

  Belle had been seen round town, no longer on her crutches, all swollen belly and smiles. Brian reckoned they were having a girl and didn’t seem to be happy about it. Dave had started seeing Alice, some Abo girl from one of the camps. Jimbo had only met her a couple of times because she wasn’t allowed in The Aussie, but he’d had drinks with Dave and Alice down by the crater that used to be the old lake. She could hold her piss and was pretty funny for an Abo. Her brother played in the Abo footy team too and was probably going to make the State Team. Niki hadn’t been back, and Lana and Frank had stopped asking Jimbo if he’d heard anything from her. He didn’t have to lie when he said he hadn’t. Aunty Joan had fallen pregnant, surprising the hell out of everyone. Uncle Cam seemed ten foot tall, gushing and lovey. Jimbo guessed the Old Man had been wrong about that too.

  Jimbo and Kylie’s love making was getting better - she no longer resisted and had stopped biting, even though she kept trying to run away - but looking at the mantelpiece wasn’t much fun when she kept passing out. She was a pretty girl and he wanted to see the look in those dark trembling eyes when he came. She didn’t talk much, but his mother assured him Kylie was coming out of her shell. At least those two seemed to be getting on okay.

  The siren sounded for smoko, and Jimbo joined Brian outside for a cigarette and a sausage roll. The winter sun warmed Jimbo’s face, the cool breeze carrying the stink of fruit away.

  Brian lit the cigarette and sucked in a mouthful of tobacco laced with pot. “Heard Dave caught Kylie down by the lake. That’s the third time.”

  “Yeah.” Jimbo smeared sauce over the warm pastry, wiping his fingers on his overalls. “Thought the Abos might help.”

  “Have you cut her yet?” Brian passed Jimbo the smoke.

  “Nah, I’m hoping she doesn’t do another runner.”

  Brian shook his head. “That’s three warnings, mate. Ya gotta cut her. Rules are rules, mate, and she’s broken them.”

  “Yeah, but -”

  “No fucken buts, Jimbo.”

  Jimbo blew smoke at Brian’s face. “When did you get so fucken hard?”

  Brian stared back, his face impassive. “I did what had to be done. The watch is over, mate. Now ya need to do what has to be done or she’s gunna get away on ya.”

  “Yeah, I know, I been putting it off.” Jimbo took another deep drag, staring into the sky. Clouds hovered near the horizon. “It’s not what I thought it’d be.”

  “It gets better.” Brian smiled, wry and thin. He took a bite of Jimbo’s sausage roll, chewing back the sawdust and gristle. “Ya gotta give her something to make her wanna stay.”

  Jimbo swapped the cigarette for the sausage roll. “Like what?”

  “Belle’s pretty fucken happy these days. It’s the best way to keep them here.”

  Jimbo nodded, understanding. “Yeah, she’s getting big. When’s she due?”

  “Couple a months. Scary.” Brian ground the cigarette underneath the heel of his boot. “Aw, fuck, Wazza Wilson was down the pub last night. Driving some fancy new truck called an eVolvo. Said it was AI or something, and it pretty much drove itself.”

  “Yeah? No cunt told me he was in town.”

  “Reckon’s he seen Fitzy. You ain’t gunna fucken believe it.”

  “Fitzy got himself married too?”

  “Fuck no, listen to this. He’s turned into some poofter, working cock in the City. Can ya fucken believe it? Always thought there was something strange about that cunt.”

  “Nah, no way.” Not Fitzy, gentle, flabby Fitzy, big brown eyes. “He got a job drivin trucks. Wazza set it up.”

  Brian shook his head, in big deliberate arcs. “Fell through. Wears a dress an all. Guess there just ain’t enough pussy to go round, even in the wonderfuckenfull City, eh?”

  Jimbo’s mouth sagged. No fucken way. And to think that cunt was ma mate. “So ya think all those times we were a-holing and shit, he was really into it?”

  “Stranger things have happened.” Brian motioned towards the rest of the sausage roll. “Ya gunna eat that or let it go cold?”

  ~ * ~

  Sledge, the foreman, called a general meeting for the shopfloor late afternoon just before clock out. They gathered in the canteen, one hundred and fifty sweaty tired bodies pressed in and wondering what the fuck was going on.

  Sledge held a piece of paper aloft and called for quiet. Someone in the crowd made a joke about Sledge not being able to read and a few people laughed, but the steel on Sledge’s face silenced most of the room. Sledge didn’t just look angry, he looked like worms were eating away at his gut and he’d soon be shitting snakes.

  “Shit,” said Brian. “This ain’t good.”

  “What?” Jimbo stared around the room. A dark mood had descended upon the crowd, all heat and blood and dirt. The last of the laughter dried up and Jimbo was left with a slick of reflux at the back of his throat. “What dya mean, Bri?”

  Sledge cleared his throat with a hack of phlegm. “Okay, this ain’t easy to say. Things ain’t too good at the moment, what with the drought kicking on, and fruit production in the orchards this year has hit an all time low. We’ve all seen the roos coming in too, taking what the drought hasn’t. It’s been a tough year, folks, and I’m sorry to say it’s gunna get even tougher.”

  Ugly murmurs trembled through the crowd. “Ya just cut the fucken shifts a couple a weeks ago, Sledge!”

  “Our jobs are sposed to be safe, ya cunts.”

  “Ya can’t cut any more or the machines won’t run.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Sledge, “the machines won’t be running. Not full time anyway. We’re shutting down another third of the plant, and only running what’s left at half-capacity. We don’t have the fruit, people.”

  People started yelling. Brian punched Jimbo lightly in the arm. “Ten bucks says it’s me who loses out here.”

  Jimbo tried to laugh. “Yeah, sure, yer on.”

  “People! People!” Sledge waved the piece of paper above his head. “This here is a list of names. If your name is read out, report to the paymaster. You will be paid out a week’s pay in advance and any owing. When the drought breaks or the fruit comes back, your names are first up for hiring. We do want you back, never forget that. This factory built this town, and this town built this factory. We are one, people, one!”

  That sounded like patriotic bullshit to Jimbo, but when Sledge read out his own name first, it stunned him and the crowd into submission. Sledge sacked too?

  A third of the staff went home that day with extra cash in their pocket and an indefinite holiday. Jimbo spent Brian’s ten bucks on homemade whiskey at Sledge’s place, let the anger simmer and brew, slurred to Sledge what a good cunt he was taking a fall with workers, thought about going home to fuck his wife and tell her the bad news, and instead woke up with the sun beating down on his face in Sledge’s backyard as the day cranked its furnace and roared into the deep blue sky. Sledge lay passed out on a threadbare sofa up against the fence in the shade. His collie, Sue, lifted her head from Sledge’s lap, appraising Jimbo for a second before returning to her slumber. Flies buzzed at the mucus crusting Sledge’s chin and his head twitched, then fell still. There were some fights that fists and knives could never hope to win.

  ~ * ~

  The night was cool enough not to warrant the fan humming in the bedroom, and Jimbo took a
dvantage of the still air to light several candles he had placed there.

  Kylie lay on the bed naked except for a g-string, her back to him. He admired the length of her thighs, the colour soft in the candlelight, as he greased his cock.

  “I know what ya want, Kylie,” he whispered.

  She said nothing, and better, she wasn’t sobbing or crying. Jimbo wiped the Vaseline off his hands onto the sheet and knelt on the bed next to her. He reached out and stroked the curve of her hip, where the bone jutted out and curved softly over firm flesh, until his fingers circled the hollow where her bum met her thighs. Even better, she didn’t shudder or tremble under his touch, though Jimbo didn’t mind the trembling.