Northern Heat

by Helene Young

  ‘I don’t know. We were just trying to get the horses out. I don’t know.’

  More gunfire. ‘Abby, listen to me. How many people are here?’

  ‘Two and . . .’ She burst into tears again. ‘And Jeff, but . . .’ She couldn’t talk. No time to give her comfort. Kristy was in mortal danger.

  ‘Jonno and Steve?’

  Sissy answered this time. ‘Yes. Steve’s got the horses.’

  ‘Not any more, he hasn’t. Steve can’t hurt you any more. Don’t move from here. Keep the torch. Do not turn it on unless you hear Kristy calling, or me. Okay?’ He wrapped Abby’s hands around the torch. ‘Down on the ground and stay together.’

  The next gust was on them, stronger than the last. Bent double, he forced his way towards the river, debris stinging his exposed skin. He could see a torch ahead. Kristy or Jonno? Another shot was followed by yet another in quick succession. The light went out. He’d seen enough to know that someone was in the water, hanging onto the walkway. He headed for the trees where he’d left Kristy with the dog. The wind subsided to a howl and he turned his head, trying to catch any faint sounds. Fat chance in this maelstrom. The gun barked again and this time he knew it was coming from the person in the water. Now he just needed to find Kristy.

  He wasn’t sure he was in the right place until he saw the briefest flash of reflective patch. He got down on his belly and started crawling. Something snorted. The bloody horses were here as well. Damn. ‘Kristy?’ he hissed.

  The muffled cry was all he needed. Before he could stand he was flattened by her. ‘Jonno’s in the water. He’s got a gun. He’s shot the dinghy full of holes. Did you find Abby? Sissy?’

  ‘They’re safe.’ He struggled to sit up, dragging her with him. ‘They’re hiding up there.’ He jerked his head. ‘What’s Jonno doing in the water?’

  ‘I whacked him with a stick and he fell in. I don’t think he can get out, but he keeps shooting the boat.’ She sounded so matter of fact Conor almost laughed. He tried to see through the rain. The dinghy was definitely sitting lower in the water, but he knew it would still be capable of carrying them, even if it was up to its gunnels. The danger of debris was another matter.

  A wet nose pressed into his leg. The dog again. Behind Kristy, he heard the horses moving restlessly. He didn’t wish them any harm, but if he could send them through the trees it might be enough to draw Jonno’s fire so he could get a clear shot at him.

  He bent close to Kristy’s ear and told her his plan. She nodded. ‘Provided he doesn’t hit one they should be all right. They’re scared out of their minds now, but we can’t take them with us. No point in tying them up.’

  ‘Okay. Give me a couple of minutes to get in position above him and then start them moving that way.’

  ‘Right.’ She was still holding onto him. He could make out her eyes, two huge orbs in her pale face. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ran a hand down her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. As he turned away he wondered if there might be a different ending. He was no longer a man with a mission to kill. His soul felt lighter for Steve’s death.

  Crawling on his stomach, he headed up the slope. He could hear Jonno swearing to himself and splashing. Maybe he’d found a way to get out of the current. The walkway glowed white. Time to get wet. He unzipped his coat and dragged the gun clear. A half-naked Jonno emerged from the water just as the horses started to run. ‘Fuck you!’ he screamed, charging after them, loosing off shots as he went.

  Conor sat up, listening to him rant as he ran. Change of plan. With the gun in his hand he bolted back to the girls. ‘Come, quietly.’ Sissy moaned as she tried to stand. He bent and swept her into his arms, ignoring her whimpers. Time for that later. ‘Come on, Abby. You’re a champion, remember that. You’re strong. Come on.’ She stumbled a little, then kept pace with him. Jonno and the horses were still careering through the bushes. A torch glimmered briefly and he headed towards it.

  Kristy was standing on the bank, the dog cowering in the dinghy. Even though the boat was high up the bank, the water still lapped at it. They reached Kristy, who wrapped her arms around her daughter and buried her face in her hair.

  ‘Get in, Abby,’ Conor said. ‘Sit towards the motor.’ Reluctantly, she let go of her mother and stumbled over the side, landing in knee-deep water. Conor struggled to get a dazed Sissy in next to her. ‘Here, Abby. Get your arm around her.’ Once he was happy, he turned to Kristy.

  ‘Can you hold it? I need to start the motor.’

  ‘Be quick.’

  He vaulted into the boat, the cold water making his toes curl. The motor took several attempts to start and then roared into life. He turned to Kristy. ‘Jump in!’

  33

  Kristy scrambled to climb aboard, but the water tore the boat from her grasp. She was left holding the rope, pulled into the river and under the surface. Freezing water shot up her nose and into her mouth. She tasted mud and vomit as she thrashed to the surface. The rope went slack and she broke clear, coughing and choking, but managing to drag in a couple of breaths. The current caught her legs and pulled her down again. Her wrist and palm burnt when the rope tightened. Her fingers touched something smooth. No chance of grabbing anything. She heard a motor. No! She was not going to die like this. Her shoes were gone and she kicked, hitting a branch. Her arm felt like it was being torn from its socket, but her head broke the surface again. Something grabbed her hair and she screamed at the pain. She batted at it, touching a clenched hand as it forced her under again.

  The pain suddenly vanished and she popped up again to see a white-faced Conor standing in the boat with a gun in his hand. Sissy was screaming and Abby had an oar in her hand. Behind Kristy, someone was groaning. Her feet touched bottom and she realised Conor had managed to drive the boat back up onto the bank. In trying to save her he’d allowed Jonno to reach her again.

  She glanced behind her, where Jonno was sprawled in the mud, clutching his arm.

  ‘Quick!’ Conor yelled, the gun still trained on Jonno. ‘Get in!’

  She flung herself at the boat, water jetting out of her nose as she threw up. She landed in the slops in the bottom. The dog gave her a lick as she lay there.

  The motor roared and for a moment she thought they weren’t going to move. Abby dropped to her knees. ‘Mum, Mum, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry.’

  Kristy levered herself upright as the vessel came free, tossing her and Abby together. She gathered her daughter tight against her, feeling the shudders of cold wrack Abby’s body. ‘It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe now.’

  ‘Kristy, shine the torch again!’ Conor ordered.

  Kristy realised the boat was speeding dangerously and they were so low in the water as to be almost submerged. Hitting anything at all could be fatal. She eased away from Abby, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead, then crouched at the front.

  ‘I’m in reverse and I can’t slow us any more,’ Conor called. ‘So any warning of an obstacle will help.’

  ‘Holy hell.’ The vessel was bucking in the current, tossing them from side to side. It was like being on a wild ride at a water park. ‘The bend, the bend’s coming up!’ she yelled. The boat veered right, heading closer to the banking.

  Sissy was bawling beside her now. ‘Is he dead?’ she asked.

  Kristy took a moment to realise who she meant. ‘No, honey, I don’t believe he is. But he’s injured and he does need to get help. I hope he goes back to the house.’ And she hoped to hell Freya and Buddy were somewhere safe.

  ‘I hope he fucking dies,’ Sissy hissed through her tears. ‘He shot Jeff and then he tried to kill you. He’s fucking insane.’

  Kristy concentrated on keeping the light trained ahead. The wind buffeted them, but the rain had eased to a drizzle. ‘Abby,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘See if you can bail some of the water.’

  Abby nodded and Kristy turned to the front, hearing the splash as wat
er went over the side. It would keep her daughter focused and would warm her up, regardless of whether it was effective or not. She had nothing else to offer her right now. ‘Another bend!’ she called to Conor.

  ‘We’re almost there. Hang on, ladies.’

  Conor spun the dinghy so they were pointing upstream towards Glenview, and then used the power to control the rate they were going backwards with the floodwater. They slowed dramatically. Turning to send the beam of light over the stern of the boat, Kristy could see the strain in Conor’s face as he concentrated. The Veritas loomed ahead.

  ‘There she is!’ she called. As they got closer she could see that the vessel was leaning over under the weight of debris piled against it, but it was still floating.

  Conor swore. ‘She’s turned into a logjam.’ One of its mooring lines was dangling free, broken by the weight of the waterlogged branches caught in the anchor chain and wrapped around the vessel.

  ‘What can we do?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll take you to the Lady Leonie. It’s safer.’

  Kristy watched his face as they swept past the Veritas. There was sorrow and sadness and also, she thought, resignation. Another of life’s blows. She doubted those brown eyes would ever find something to smile at again. She felt guilt that she’d ever doubted his intrinsic goodness.

  It took several attempts to tie the battered dinghy up to the trawler. Getting Sissy aboard was even harder. But finally they were all shivering in the main saloon. The dog was cowering by one of the benches. Conor shrugged off his backpack, produced water, chocolate and unwrapped a foil blanket.

  ‘Eat,’ he said. ‘And wrap one of these around you while I find some dry clothes.’

  Sissy was still whimpering and Kristy crouched beside her, fighting her own nausea. Cracked or not, her ribs were making it increasingly difficult to breathe. ‘Where does it hurt, honey?’ she asked, smoothing the matted blonde hair back from Sissy’s face.

  ‘My shoulder and my ankle.’

  Kristy could already see the ankle was swollen, but at least the foot was still properly aligned. Somewhere deep in the boat an engine started to throb. The lights brightened.

  ‘Can you get your shirt off?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Can we try?’

  It took some manoeuvring, but they managed to get the T-shirt off without too many tears. Kristy could clearly see the break in the collarbone. All she’d be able to do was support Sissy’s arm in a sling. She wrapped one of the space blankets around the girl’s thin shoulders and hoped the trawler ran to a first-aid kit.

  Conor reappeared with a pile of shirts. ‘About the best I can do. Bill’s bigger than you three so you should find something.’

  He turned to the grimy stove and lit a flame. ‘There’s tea and coffee and long-life milk.’

  A gust of wind tilted the boat and everyone clutched for a handhold. Conor managed to stay on his feet. ‘I’ve got to get back to the Veritas.’

  ‘Really?’ The horizontal rain rattled against the windows like hail. Kristy couldn’t see the side of the boat, let alone the yacht just upstream.

  He jerked his head towards the door. She followed onto the deck. They were on the lee side and relatively protected.

  ‘More debris is going to build up against her hull. It will block the tributary eventually and if the ropes let go, the whole thing’s going to smash into the Lady Leonie. I can’t risk that. I’ve got to move her.’ He sounded defeated.

  ‘What can I do?’

  He reached up and cupped her cheek. His hand was cold and she covered it with her own. ‘Nothing more than you’ve already done. You’re amazing, Dr Kristy.’

  She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. ‘No. I did what I had to, but I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  She turned her head and kissed his palm and his eyes closed for an instant, but not before she saw the desolation in them. His sadness tore at her.

  ‘Stay on the boat, Kristy. Save your phone and hope the anchor holds. If she breaks loose she’ll run aground again. Boat like this can take a whole lot of punishment. Keep the girls warm. If this cyclone is a category five then you might be cut off for a while. The generator will run for a few days so you’ll have power, lights, hot showers. Go easy on the water though. You need to put aside at least four litres each for drinking, maybe more. Don’t . . .’ He stopped for an instant, then shook his head. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘How long will you be?’ She had to ask even though she thought she knew what the answer was going to be.

  ‘I don’t know. I . . .’ He leant across, kissed her lips, lingering against them as she felt him breathe in. ‘Thank you for trusting me. For giving me hope there could be a tomorrow for us.’ She thought she saw tears in his eyes before he left her in hurried strides. She pressed her fingers to her lips. He couldn’t be saying goodbye, could he? Not after everything they’d been through?

  She followed him to the stern, where he already had the dinghy motor running. ‘Conor!’

  He looked up, the rain cascading off the hood and shoulders of the waterproof, his face almost invisible, and raised a hand. ‘Take care, Kristy,’ he called, hauling in the rope, the wind whipping away his words. She was sure she saw his lips say ‘I love you’ before the darkness swallowed him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Lightning ripped across the sky and for the briefest instant he was visible again, hunched in the stern of the boat.

  She’d let him go without telling him any of what overflowed in her heart. She hadn’t thanked him for everything that he’d done, everything that he’d taught her, and now she might never have that chance.

  ‘Mum?’ Abby called, her voice quavering. Kristy hurried back into the cabin, where the kettle was screaming. Abby had found mugs and coffee. The two girls were still shivering and she knew she’d needed to ransack the trawler for a first-aid kit.

  Half an hour later she’d just finished tying a sling around Sissy’s neck when the boat shuddered under a tremendous blow. The screeching, tearing noise that followed sounded as though the vessel was being ripped apart. The girls screamed as Kristy swore.

  She grabbed one of the spotlights and rushed onto the deck, banging the door behind her. The wind had created waves in the usually calm river, spray blowing from the crests. The air was alive with debris. Leaves, branches, metal, plastic – everything was airborne, caught in the vortex. Trapped in a jumble of felled trees, the Veritas had sideswiped the Lady Leonie. Branches scraped the side, snagging on the boom and the fishing nets. Kristy could feel the shuddering under her feet as submerged objects pounded the hull.

  The noise of the cyclone was deafening. The deck of the trawler was stripped bare. Anything that wasn’t bolted down was gone. She shone the torch down on the yacht. A grim-faced Conor was at the steering helm and it was clear he was locked in a life or death battle. She thought she could hear the thudding of a diesel motor under strain. The Veritas’s mast was rocking from side to side and the vessel looked to be lower at the front than it should be. It was slowly sliding past the trawler but she wondered if the Lady Leonie’s heavy anchor chain would hold much longer. Or whether they’d all be swept away by the mass of driftwood.

  A tree with wide, spreading branches had caught on one of the wire hawsers that supported the boom with the fishing nets. The thick cable snapped with a crack like a whip. She ducked, but it lashed backwards as it parted, dropping the boom to deck level. The tree, freed from its captor, dragged its dense foliage along the rest of the boat. Kristy saw the Veritas turn away. Conor had successfully steered the whole sorry mess around the trawler with little damage to the larger vessel. The trawler’s anchors still held.

  She saw a faint glimmer of white teeth and Conor raised his hand as he vanished into the darkness. From behind, it was obvious the vessel was floating nose-down. The dinghy was secured high on the stern. Would he be able to stay afloat long enough to launch it? S
he remembered the other three vessels downstream. He’d done the only thing he could, she supposed. By keeping the Veritas in the middle of the logjam, he had a fighting chance of steering it all around other vessels.

  She had no idea if a fighting chance was enough.

  34

  Conor took one last long look as the Lady Leonie disappeared into the rain and some of the strain left his shoulders. The trawler and its precious cargo were safe and secure. The tiny light on the deck still followed him and it felt like a golden thread, linking him to Kristy. Was he capable of getting out of this alive?

  The bilge pumps were barely holding the flow of water seeping in from a crack in the bow. There were three more vessels downstream that he’d have to steer this floating mess around and more bends before the open ocean. Was there a tributary near Cooktown where the river was so much wider than here that he could safely run the Veritas into, or was the only option to be swept out to sea? With the tumultuous flow of the river he wasn’t sure he could slow the yacht enough for him to get off, and then there was the small matter of launching the dinghy. It had sustained more damage as he’d tried to raise it onto the mounts. Would it even take him back upstream to Kristy and the girls?

  He could see lights ahead and knew he had to stay focused. One step at a time. The boat tossed up her head and he realised one of the trees had been pulled clear by the racing water. He hoped it didn’t snag on any of the boats ahead. The Veritas slid past the first and second boats without incident, but the third one had collected its own haul of debris. Conor swung the wheel and increased the power. He had little room to move but the boat edged right. The shallow-water alarm sounded.

  ‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he muttered, steering to the port side again. He felt the bump as the boat touched the bottom. Luckily, it was largely mud. As the boat slowed further, he swung hard on the wheel. If he ran aground now, then between him and the other vessel they would form a dam that a beaver would be proud to claim. The effects further downstream when the raging torrent finally won could be horrendous. The Veritas picked up speed again and the ache in his clenched jaw eased a touch as the alarm fell silent. He managed to swallow, despite having little saliva left.