by JD Nixon
He held out his hands, palms up and beckoned me forth, an unpleasant smile cracking his ugly face. “Bring it on, little hell cat.”
Nostrils flaring and lips pressed together, I lowered my head and held my right arm up protectively, elbow out, and charged him. He laughed, bulking himself out across the hallway, completely blocking it, one arm and foot pressed up against each side of the walls. At the last second, when he was convinced I was trying to knock him over (which would have been a crazy thing to attempt given the difference in our sizes), I swerved to the right and ducked down under his arm. But for a big man, he was alarmingly swift and he twisted, extending his arm, his ham-sized fist seizing the collar of my jacket and hauling me backwards.
I landed smack bang up against his chest, my knife clattering to the floor. He wrapped two beefy arms around me, crushing my arms against my sides. I did everything I could to escape – I struggled, I bit his arms, I stomped on his feet and kicked backwards into his shins. But he merely tightened his hold until I couldn’t breathe and my ribs were in danger of cracking. Laughing at my puny efforts, he lifted me up, spun me around and marched me back into the room, carrying me the whole way.
“Look what I found,” he smiled at the other two. “A little piggy trying to escape.”
The first man, rubbing his throat, backhanded me viciously across the face. “That’s for biting me, bitch.”
The second man, one eye red and streaming, backhanded me the other direction, splitting my lip. Blood trickled down my chin and dripped off. “And that’s for my fucking eye.”
With his arms still around me, the third man took the index finger of my left hand between the iron grip of his fingers and pushed down until the bone snapped. I screamed out in pain, tears filling my eyes. “And that’s just because I hate cops. You’re lucky the boss said not to rough you up too much, otherwise we’d be beating the shit out of you right now.” He spoke to the other two. “Hurry up and give the bitch the fucking needle.”
The first man drew a syringe from a bag and filled it with a clear liquid from a tiny glass bottle. I started struggling again, kicking out at them furiously, keeping them at a distance.
“You’re an aggro little piece of pussy, aren’t you, darling?” laughed the third man. “I prefer my pussy a bit tamer than you.” And he crushed me in his arms until I was weak and limp from the lack of oxygen. The first man leapt over to push the needle into my arm and slid the syringe down until all the liquid disappeared into my body. He then moved over to Kylie, roughly shaking her.
The last thing I knew was that my bones seemed to be dissolving and I was melting into a puddle on the floor. Everything blurred, before a great darkness overwhelmed me.
Chapter 26
I couldn’t work out what on earth had possessed me to sleep in my backyard in the rain. I was drenched and freezing, lying on my back looking up at the overcast night sky through a canopy of trees, rain pouring down on to my face. I was drowsy and dopey and my brain felt as if someone had stuffed my head with marshmallows. In what seemed like slow motion, I rolled my head to the right to avoid the rain falling into my eyes. And looked straight into the huge eyeless sockets of a human skull.
Whoa! I scrabbled away desperately, too groggy to shriek. What the hell had Red Bycraft left in my yard now? Or maybe that should be who the hell? I’d had a few dead animals thrown on to my verandah now and then and he had murdered my poor girls, but I’d never been left a human artifact before.
I reached my hand out to touch it, sure I was having another nightmare. But the cold wet hardness of bone assured me that it was real. Someone had died or been buried here in my backyard.
I painfully raised myself to a sitting position and peered around in the darkness. Geez, I couldn’t believe how overgrown my yard had become in just a few days. I really needed to spend some serious time gardening in the near future, I lectured myself. Especially if skulls were going to suddenly start popping up out of nowhere. It took a further couple of minutes before the thought that perhaps I wasn’t actually in my backyard permeated my fuzzy brain.
Unsteadily, I rose to my feet, clutching onto the closest tree trunk for support. I was at the bottom of an incline, so I assumed I was on Mountain Road somewhere if I was still in the vicinity of Little Town. My heart thundered in my chest at that thought. Oh God, I hoped I was still in town, otherwise nobody would ever find me.
I leaned against the tree trunk and closed my eyes for a second. My face, arm and finger were hurting badly. I cast my mind back, until the memory of the evening’s events at the bikies’ retreat unfolded for me again.
Evening? Was it still the same Wednesday night that I’d set off to the bikie retreat? It couldn’t be, I reasoned with myself, because it had been daytime when I’d had that last encounter with the three men. It couldn’t be Thursday night, could it? Then I realised that it wasn’t still evening, but must be very early Friday morning because the light was grey, not black. That meant I’d been missing for well over twenty-four hours.
Everybody would be absolutely frantic. Oh boy, would I be in trouble when I finally made it home.
Kylie! I thought suddenly, my head flicking around. Was she down here with me? I spotted something white and still, resting against a tree trunk about halfway up the incline. It was hard to tell in the rain and gloom what it was exactly, but it looked large enough to be a young girl. Maybe those three bikies had thrown the two of us off the edge of the road, down here into the bush, probably hoping we’d both die of exposure.
It was freezing, close to zero degrees, my breath misting in front of me. When I took my first few steps up the incline my legs collapsed beneath me, numb with cold and weak from being drugged. Freeing my face from the muddy, leaf strewn ground, I patted down my pockets, hoping like hell they’d overlooked my phone. All I wanted was to ring the Sarge and have him bring an army of searchers down Mountain Road looking for me. But of course my phone wasn’t there, because that would just be too easy and when had anything in my life ever been easy? I choked back unwanted self-pity and frustration and started up the steep and slippery incline again.
Every time I rested my left hand on the ground or against a tree, pain screamed from the tip of my broken index finger up my arm to my stab and bullet wounds. My head was woozy from whatever drug they’d given me and I had a raging thirst. The last problem I was able to solve easily at least by simply turning my face towards the heavens and opening my mouth. Which I did, greedily gulping down the icy water.
I slipped over in the mud, falling heavily on my side. I didn’t get up but laid on the ground, face pressed into the soggy earth, half-sobbing to myself. I wished this whole ordeal was over and done with, and I was tucked up in my . . . Oh, that’s right! I didn’t even have a safe bed or a safe home at the moment. God, could my life get any worse?
Okay, Fuller, I said sternly to myself. You can either lie down and drown with the rain, feeling sorry for yourself. Or you can pick your sorry butt up and climb that hill to rescue poor little Kylie. Then you can find all those wonderful people who you know are tearing up every centimetre of this town looking for you. Your choice.
Geez, I was so hard on myself sometimes. I struggled to my feet and began to climb the slippery slope again. I clung on to any branch, trunk or vine I could find in the murk as I made my way towards that indistinct white shape. It took a while to advance with the sheer steepness of the hill. Not paying proper attention one time, I mis-stepped and slid all the way back down to the bottom, almost giving up at that point. It was only the constant sight of that still white shape that kept me climbing back up that hill again.
When I reached the shape, I could see a thin arm and leg, flung carelessly around the trunk, as if cuddling up to some battered and much-loved stuffed toy from childhood. The trunk had stopped her from tumbling any further.
Poor Kylie. She remained unconscious and I hoped to God she was also still alive. I moved around her abused little body to feel her pulse.
Thankfully, amazingly, there was still a strong beat. She probably had suffered every indignity possible to inflict on a woman, had been shockingly mistreated and drugged to an almost fatal level, but her life beat remained strong. She was one tough little cookie. She was one of life’s survivors. And because of that I wanted, I needed, her to survive. I would do everything I could to ensure that. We shared a sisterhood.
I slid my injured left arm around her ribcage and started to haul her upwards, using my good arm to help drag us up the steep hill. It was slow-going and painful. I wasn’t strong enough to throw her over my shoulder and carry her while upright, so I had to drag her across the ground on my knees, her tender, pale skin suffering even more abuse in the process.
I thought about my upcoming weekend with Jake the whole time I climbed. I imagined the surprised happiness on his face when I gave him the expensive watch I’d bought him. I also tried to guess what the menu would be at the nice restaurant we were dining at, knowing it wouldn’t be as gourmet as that recently enjoyed by the Sarge at Cybele. Then when I flagged unbearably, verging on the point of giving up again, I forced myself to fantasise about our night together after dinner. Jake and me in a luxury hotel room with a spa bath, a king-sized bed, and nobody else around. It would be amazing! Those thoughts were in danger of becoming XXX-rated when I realised that I’d reached the top. The distractive power of lust had helped me through! Hallelujah!
I carefully eased Kylie on to the soggy ground and rested my aching muscles. After a quick scan of the environment, I decided with relief that it was definitely Mountain Road. But I couldn’t tell how far down we were and it was a long steep winding road, heading up to Mount Big and Lake Big. My guess was that the bikies had probably been instructed to dump us far up the road, near the base of Mount Big. But hopefully those three guys had decided to cut corners, worried about being left behind by their companions to carry the can, and had dumped and scooted as soon as possible. So it was entirely plausible that we were not too far from the main intersection of Mountain Road with the Coastal Range Highway. If only I still had my phone with me, I thought regretfully. I patted my pockets with futile optimism once more, but there was nothing. The bikies had even taken the station’s digital camera from me.
I could sit down on the road and wait until someone came for me. Mountain Road was not a thoroughfare, although at certain times of the year it could become quite busy. But unfortunately, not during winter. The highway though was a different matter. It was nowhere near gridlocked according to city standards, but there was a steady stream of traffic on it, day and night. I could surely wave down a motorist or a truckie if I could just make it to that intersection. Someone could give us a lift to the station or even to the nearest phone. If only I could get there.
Looking down at poor Kylie’s nakedness, I slipped off my waterproof jacket, (which hadn’t really lived up to its promise) and gently dressed her in it. It left the one tiny part of me not yet drenched immediately open to the freezing elements, but what else could I do for her? She was so petite compared to me that the jacket managed to cover her naked body and hopefully provided her with some warmth on this freezing winter morning.
“Kylie!” I said to her, shaking her shoulder. “Kylie! Wake up, sweetheart. I need you to wake up for me.”
She roused lethargically, managing to open one eye. But it immediately rolled back into her head and she drifted off into a happier place than where she’d been lately. Sighing with resignation and with great difficulty, I hefted her on to my right shoulder and in the brightening gloom, staggered down Mountain Road towards the highway intersection.
Unfortunately, I had underestimated the work ethic of the three bikies. According to the first road sign I happened on, we were fifteen kilometres down from the intersection.
That was a terribly long hike to make carrying someone, but what choice did I have? At least it was downhill, less steep and twisty the further you went from the mountain. And hopefully the searchers would come to check out this road soon.
They didn’t.
I trudged through the rain, swapping Kylie from shoulder to shoulder when my muscles screamed too much. I watched the sky lightening from dark to light grey. After about five kilometres, I managed to rouse her for a little while and she stumbled next to me, giving me a temporary break from her weight. The road cut up her bare feet as we walked and she clutched my arm painfully, crying incoherently the whole time. I couldn’t blame her – I felt like crying myself. But instead, I spoke to her cheerfully, urging her on and even singing that stupid little pop song that I had grown now to passionately hate. She bravely joined in the singing for a few bars and laughed once, before beginning to cry again. Then she laid down on the road, curled herself into a ball and refused to budge.
Poor little thing, I thought. She’d just had enough. I picked her up again, despite every muscle complaining. I told myself to simply take one step at a time. We were nearly there, I also told myself, even though I knew we weren’t even close.
One step at a time, one step at a time, I recited repetitively. And strangely enough it helped me get into a rhythm of sorts, matching my footsteps to the mantra. But the power of that started to fade once I reached the ten kilometre mark.
I placed Kylie down gently on the road. She had genuinely blacked out again. I laid down on the road next to her and stretched every muscle gratefully, resting my aching spine and shoulders. I threw back my head to fill my parched throat again and again with rain water, swallowing voraciously. I was so thirsty. My stomach grumbled. I told it to shut up. Kylie probably needed water too, but I didn’t know how to help her to have any without drowning her, so I let her be for now.
Five more kilometres. It didn’t sound like much. In a car, it was a mere blink. On a bike, not much of a challenge. By foot, an enjoyable little fun run. Carrying another human being when you were injured, drugged, exhausted, freezing, and had already walked ten kays – oh baby, it was one long stretch of nightmare.
I allowed myself to rest for what I judged to be ten minutes. It could have been ten minutes; it could have been three hours. I had lost all perspective on time. I dutifully hauled Kylie up and over my shoulder again and clumped off. It was only five more kilometres, I told myself. I ran more than that every morning. It was nothing. But why did it feel so much?
One step at a time, one step at a time. That kept me going for a few minutes, and the thought of a steaming hot shower and a three course meal kept me going for another while. What would be on the menu? A traditional spread, I wearily decided. Soup to start with, of course. Something hot and comforting. Something with lots of vegetables and pulses, maybe barley or lentils. The main course would also be hot and comforting. Roast anything with all the trimmings and crispy baked potatoes. I spent an entire five hundred metres plodding along thinking about those potatoes. Maybe they’d even be cooked in duck fat? Oh God! My stomach growled unhappily. The dessert would be hot and comforting as well. Some kind of sweet pudding with custard. Maybe even a delicious golden syrup pudding like Nana Fuller used to make? I was so hungry. My stomach grumbled again and I told it to pipe down.
The next road sign informed me that the intersection with the highway was in one kilometre, so I should prepare to slow down. Thanks for that, I thought nastily as I staggered past, barely able to plod one foot in front of the other. I wouldn’t want to cause an accident with my excessive speed, would I?
I stopped just after that sign and carefully placed Kylie on the ground again, stretching all my muscles with painful pleasure. Where the hell was everyone? I had honestly thought that the place would have hundreds of people searching for me everywhere. Helicopters, sniffer dogs, spotlights, maybe even the army being called in – the whole works. But obviously nobody cared at all. There was nobody looking for me. Probably nobody had even noticed that I was missing.
Oh dear! I could recognise a self-pitying bad mood building when I felt it. Instead of giving in to it, I harnessed that last bi
t of energy to pick Kylie up again and lurch that final painful thousand metres to the intersection, my legs on the verge of collapsing.
When I reached the highway, I laid Kylie gently on the ground and looked one way then the other, stretching again. The lawn cemetery was to my right on the corner of the intersection, Little Town was to my left. But where was the traffic? The whole place felt quiet and empty as if everyone was waiting for something. Well, it obviously wasn’t for me to reappear, I thought bitterly. After a few more seconds of stretching, I hauled Kylie on to my shoulder again and staggered left, towards town. So much for frigging white knights, I thought with vicious resentment. Where the hell were they when you really needed them?
It was two kilometres into town. I actually laughed out loud when I remembered that. Another two kilometres! At this juncture, it might as well have been two hundred kilometres. There was a small property about a kilometre away, and I decided to aim for that instead, hoping the residents were home so I could use their phone.
About halfway there, I heard the very welcome sound of a vehicle approaching from the south. I rested Kylie on the ground and turned around to wave them down from the side of the road. Because I’d given Kylie my jacket, my bulletproof vest with POLICE written on it was clearly visible. I was confident I’d soon be sitting in the back seat of that car speeding to the station.
It was a silver station wagon with interstate licence plates. The male driver and his female passenger regarded me curiously as they passed by and kept on driving.
They didn’t stop for me.
I ran into the middle of the road, staring after them in stunned disbelief, watching their tail lights recede into the distance. Two women by the side of the road in the pouring rain, in obvious distress, one of them a cop, and they didn’t stop. What the hell was wrong with this world?
