Tunnel Vision

by Andrew Christie

  Rashmi was still asleep when Billy put the keys to the machinery shed back. He grabbed his camera and climbed the fence into the paddock below the yard. The nearest group of cows lay in the sun, watching him. By the time he had walked twenty metres, one of them was up and giving him the eye. When it let out a bellow, the rest of the cows heaved their enormous bodies up out of the grass. Their big brown faces were all turned towards him, just their ears flicking around to see what else might be going on. “Hello, cows,” he said, stopping and raising his camera. He took a few shots then moved a bit closer. The cows shuffled together but didn’t retreat. “That’s good, cows. Just taking some pics. Gonna make you famous, put you on the cover of a magazine.” He squatted and kept clicking. One of the cows dropped its head and pawed at the ground. Billy didn’t know much about cows, but he didn’t think this was a good sign. When two of the cows took a couple of steps towards him, he decided he probably had enough cow photos for the day. He stood up and waved his hands in the air. The cows stopped and backed up. Then a couple of them turned and trotted away. The front two watched Billy for a moment longer then turned and followed the others. Stupid cows, Billy thought, walking back up the hill.

  He got himself a drink of water in an enamel mug and sat back outside on the bench. When Dave got back, he definitely would ask him if he could have a go with the quad bike. Just around the yard, to see how it handled. Maybe he could help Dave out. Do some mowing with the tractor. The grass around the back of the sheds was pretty long. He could run the mower over it—wouldn’t take very long. Or they could just let a couple of cows into the yard, he supposed. They’d eat the grass soon enough.

  When he went inside the shed, Rashmi was awake, leaning against her a pillow, reading again. “Welcome back,” Billy said.

  She looked up. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Couple of hours maybe.”

  “Being up half the night made me tired. Sorry. What have you been doing?”

  “Nothing much. Took some photos of the cows.”

  “Fascinating,” she said. “You should have brought a book.”

  “Yeah. Or a television…” Billy heard a car coming up the track.

  Rashmi heard it too. “That’ll be Grandpa.”

  When they went outside, it wasn’t Dave’s black Land Rover rolling to a stop in the middle of the yard; it was a silver Ford Falcon. Billy saw two people in the front seat, talking to each other. He turned to Rashmi “Who are they?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe friends of Grandpa’s.”

  “Might be cops,” Billy said. “Too late now if they are.”

  They watched as the doors on both sides opened and a man and a woman got out. Billy didn’t think they looked like they were from the government. The woman driver was older, a bit fat. Big sunglasses with white frames hid most of her face. The man was younger, fit looking, except for the big white bandage on his hand.

  “Howdy,” the woman said.

  Billy looked at Rashmi, but neither of them spoke.

  “Nice day,” the woman tried again. She turned to glance at the man then turned back to Billy and Rashmi. “We should introduce ourselves. My name’s Ruth, and this is Manny. He’s my nephew.”

  She had an English accent.

  Rashmi spoke up. “Can we help you?”

  “I hope so dear,” Ruth said.

  “We’re looking for someone,” Manny said, his good hand holding the bandaged one, while his eyes flicked around the sheds, the yard—Billy and Rashmi too—taking everything in.

  “Who are you looking for?” Billy asked. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something seemed off about these two.

  “Friend of a friend,” said Manny, his eyes settling on Billy. “Who’re you?”

  Billy didn’t say anything; he just stared back at Manny.

  “Our friend—he’s the friend of the one we’re looking for—he’s from home. From England,” Manny said.

  “Originally,” Ruth added. “That’s where we know him from. We’re out here on holiday, and he said we should look up this friend of his if we were up this way.”

  The two of them were wearing holiday clothes, but they didn’t look like they were on holiday, Billy thought.

  “He wasn’t at his house in town, but we met a bloke who said he has a farm up here.” Ruth spread her arms and looked around, smiling. “So here we are.” When no one said anything, Ruth turned to Manny. “What was the gent’s name in Brunswick Heads?”

  “Kurt.”

  “Kurt, that’s right. German name but a nice man. Very helpful.”

  “In the end,” Manny said.

  Chapter 24

  Headlights

  The punch sent Billy out of the chair and sprawling on the concrete floor. He pushed himself up, his ears ringing and tears in his eyes. All he could see was shadows and shapes under the shed’s harsh fluorescent lights, as Manny moved towards him, flinging the chair out of the way.

  “Leave him alone,” Billy heard Rashmi shout as he tried to get up, blinking and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

  Ruth slapped her hard across the face. “Shut up, freak.”

  Billy held his hand up, trying to protect his head, as Manny came at him. Manny kicked him in the stomach, driving the air out of his lungs. Billy rolled up into a ball. He tried to move again. Tried to crawl away, looking for something to get under. This had happened to him before; the thought came suddenly. When he was a kid. He pushed himself around to face Manny. “No. Wait. I know…I know where it is. I can show you.”

  “Billy!” A drawn-out shout from Rashmi was cut off as Ruth punched her in the stomach.

  “Where is it?” Ruth said, turning her back to Rashmi, leaving her coughing and gasping on the floor.

  “How do you know where it is?” Manny leaned down over Billy, his good hand grabbing his throat, his fingers digging in under his jaw.

  “It must be,” Billy croaked, “what you’re looking for. I don’t know for sure. I never looked at it or anything, but why else would he hide something in the bottom of the freezer?”

  Everyone except Billy turned and looked at the big white chest freezer in the far corner of the shed.

  “Billy? What are—” Rashmi said before Ruth turned and struck her again.

  Manny grabbed a fistful of Billy’s hair and pulled him up off the floor. “Show me,” he said, shoving him towards the freezer. Ruth left Rashmi huddled in a ball on the floor and followed them across the room.

  “I don’t know if it’s what you’re looking for, but it must be something,” Billy said.

  Manny spun him around and pushed him hard against the freezer. “Shut up and get it. Now.”

  Billy coughed and tried to catch his breath. “Okay, all right,” he gasped. The freezer came open with a hissing pop, and cold air flowed down the front of his legs as he pushed the lid back till it rested against the wall.

  Manny and Ruth leaned forward on either side of him, peering down at the plastic bags full of frozen beef.

  “I saw it before when I was looking for something to eat,” Billy said. “It’s in the bottom, under all the meat.” He leaned over into the chest and began moving the parcels of meat aside. There were plenty of them, but what he was after was a nice big roast in a long strong plastic bag. It had been there yesterday. There. He wound the loose end of the bag around his hand.

  “What’s that?” Manny was leaning into the freezer as Billy straightened his back and spun around. He swung the two-kilogram frozen ball of meat up into Manny’s face. Blood poured from his nose as he fell away from the freezer. Billy kept spinning, the momentum of the meat sending him towards Ruth. She turned away, lunging for the gun on the table. Billy stumbled, his feet tangled in Manny’s legs. He lurched sideways but managed to keep his feet under him, and brought the frozen meat down, smashing it into Ruth’s extended wrist. The gun spun off the table, clattering to the floor. Billy kept turning, looking for Manny. He was on the floor still, his white-bandaged hand red with t
he blood from his nose. He twisted suddenly, his legs scything out, cutting Billy’s legs from under him. As Billy fell, the momentum of the meat hammer carried him forward. Manny’s head snapped sideways, the frozen roast slamming into his temple. Billy went down hard on the concrete floor.

  Ruth was shouting something, one hand holding the other by the wrist. Dizzy, Billy let go of the meat bag and tried to get up. He looked around for the gun. It was under a chair, on the other side of the table. He lunged for it, but Ruth landed on his back with both knees. Pain flashed through him. Billy gasped for air as he tried to roll Ruth off.

  She came up with the gun in her left hand. Billy tried get up as he watched Ruth unsteadily lift the gun in the air. He scrabbled on the floor, trying to get his legs under him.

  Ruth’s face was a snarl as her left hand steadied for a moment, the gun pointing at Billy. Then she twisted and fell as Rashmi crashed into her legs. The gunshot and the clang of punctured steel roofing were one sound as Ruth and Rashmi thrashed about on the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, and crutches. Billy pulled Rashmi clear, and steadied her on her crutches, as Ruth rolled towards them. The gun came up again. Rashmi lunged forward, using all her weight to drive the tip of one of her crutches into Ruth’s groin. The old woman screamed and rolled into a ball.

  “Come on.” Billy put an arm around Rashmi and pulled her away, grabbing the keys from their nail as they went out the door. He slammed it shut behind him then fumbled in the dark to unlock the padlock so he could throw the bolt home. The door clanged and shuddered in his hands as two shots hit it. Bright light leaked into the night through the two new holes punched through the corrugated iron just to the side of the lock.

  Rashmi screamed. Billy threw himself down and crawled away from the door.

  “What now?” she shouted.

  Billy looked around. He didn’t know what to do next. The only working car was the Falcon and those keys were in the shed with Ruth and Manny. And the gun. Billy spun around towards the machinery shed. “The quad bike.”

  He ran towards the big double doors, flicking through the keys, trying to find the right one; Rashmi followed him as fast as she could. For a moment he thought the big padlock wasn’t going to open, but it did, coming apart with a heavy click. He pushed the door open and climbed onto the saddle of the quad bike. He hit the starter. The engine spun but didn’t catch. Come on, come on. It caught—coughed once. “Come on.” The engine started as Rashmi climbed on the back, awkwardly tucking the crutches under her arm and grabbing Billy’s waist.

  “All right?” he shouted, half turning to Rashmi. She nodded and held him tighter. Billy kicked the parking brake and turned the throttle. The bike lunged towards the door, its motor roaring.

  Ruth was coming across the yard, her right arm dangling at her side, the gun up in her left. Billy saw it flash, heard the bullet hit the open door above his head. He sent the bike straight at Ruth, forcing her to jump out of the way. The bike lurched up onto two wheels as Billy tried to turn sharply between the sheds. He thought he was going to lose it, but then he leaned hard into the turn. The bike dropped back onto all four wheels as it straightened up. They raced along behind the machinery shed and back out into the open, heading for the track that led out of the far end of the yard. More gunshots. Billy ducked down over the handlebars and felt Rashmi do the same, leaning tight against his back. Then they were over a low rise and out of sight.

  “Where are we going?” Rashmi yelled as they sat back up.

  Billy was struggling to keep the bike on course in the dark. There was no moon yet, and he was straining to see, trying to avoid the worst potholes. “The tunnel,” he shouted, without turning his head. “We can go through to…that place you mentioned. Get help. Call the cops.”

  “Burringbar. No police there. Just houses. Couple of shops.”

  “There’ll be a phone.” Lights flashed across the track.

  Billy turned his head. Headlights were coming over the hill, out of the yard, lighting up the track and the grass on either side of it. The Falcon came into view, bouncing hard on the rough track.

  “Watch out!” Rashmi slapped Billy on the back. He looked around just in time to see that the bike was going off the edge of the track. The handlebars tried to pull themselves out of his grip as the front wheels lurched, bumping through the long grass. He slowed the bike to get it back under control then turned towards the track again. The Falcon’s headlights lit Billy and Rashmi up as they bounced back onto the track, turning everything bright white and black shadow. Billy opened the throttle up again. The headlights held them for a moment then lost them as the back of the Falcon slid out on the gravel. The beams flashed and jumped across the paddock, the car’s engine screaming loud enough for Billy to hear it over the roar of the bike. The Falcon lunged back the other way, fishtailing as Ruth struggled to get it under control with her one good hand.

  Billy tried to remember how far it was to the railway line. They couldn’t outrun the car out here in the open, but if they could get to the railway track… They’d have a chance—if the bike could make it down there, if the car couldn’t. But first they had to get there.

  Light flared around them again, and Billy heard the Falcon right behind them. The bike leapt forward into the air as the car struck them. Rashmi screamed, and Billy lost his grip on the handlebars. They hit the ground hard, with Billy flattened across the fuel tank as Rashmi slammed into his back. His hands found the handlebars again, and he sent the bike off the edge of the track into the long grass of the paddock. The Falcon’s headlights swung and jumped behind them, lighting up the trees on the far side of the paddock as Ruth followed them off the track. The car had to slow down in the paddock, but Billy was going as fast as he could, bouncing hard off the grass tussocks. He scanned the paddock, trying to pick a route that would bring them to the railway gate without having to get back on the track.

  Ruth’s headlights swung back and forth, lighting them up, then losing them again, as the Falcon lurched and crunched over the paddock. Billy tried to ignore what was happening behind him, to concentrate on what was in front. He tried not to hit anything, including the cows that appeared suddenly among the tussocks, staring at them before lumbering out of the way.

  “She’s stuck,” Rashmi shouted.

  Billy glanced back. The Falcon’s headlights weren’t moving; he and Rashmi were getting further away. The car had grounded out on a low embankment. He heard its engine scream, the rear wheels spinning uselessly. Whooping, Billy headed straight for the gate and the cattle grid at the bottom of the paddock.

  They rumbled across the grid and out of the paddock. Ahead, Billy made out the gleam of the railway lines in the starlight, running away on his right, towards the tunnel. To get to the tracks, they had to drop down a steep embankment then climb back up the weed-filled drainage ditch beside the tracks. Billy took the embankment at an angle to reduce the steepness of the slope. That was how John had showed him to pick a line across the face of a hill. But he realised it was a mistake as soon as they went over the lip. The side slope was too steep, and the bike began to slip, its wheels spinning.

  “What are you doing?” Rashmi screamed.

  Trying to save our lives, he thought. “Hold on,” he shouted, turning the bike to head straight down the slope. Otherwise they were going to roll.

  They hit the bottom of the ditch hard. The bike flipped. Billy was in the air for a moment, waiting to hit the ground, disoriented in the dark, knowing the landing would be bad. He slammed into the ground on his back, the impact jarring him. Pain. His body felt like something else entirely. Something solid. Something not him. He closed his eyes, shutting out the star-filled sky.

  Chapter 25

  Always Does

  It was night when John woke again, the room dark around him. Voices and music were coming from the pub courtyard downstairs. His head felt like it was stuffed full of something that wanted very badly to get out. He threw back some more pain-killers and lay
still, waiting for them to take effect. He wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow. He’d have to start looking for Billy again, go back to Sally’s father’s house.

  His keys had still been in the room with his other belongings when he got back from Byron Bay. So, at least he didn’t have to worry about getting new wheels.

  When his head started to feel a bit less awful, he rolled across the bed, plugged the charger for his new phone into the wall socket, and punched in Shasta’s number.

  “Hello?” she answered, her voice a question; she obviously didn’t recognise the number.

  “It’s me,” John croaked.

  “John? Hey, babe. How’s it going?”

  “Pretty shitty. I got mugged.”

  “What do you mean? What happened? Are you all right?”

  John told her everything that had happened since he’d arrived at Brunswick Heads.

  “Oh, baby, that’s awful. Are you really all right? Who would hit you?”

  “I don’t know. I’m all right, had worse knocks. Bit of a headache, a few stitches.”

  “Concussion?”

  “Yeah. I look like a skinhead who tried DIY brain surgery.”

  “What did the police say?”

  “Not much. Robbery. They reckon I must have surprised someone in the room. Said this sort of thing doesn’t happen in their town. Nice quiet place, this. Must be my fault.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “When I find Billy.”

  “But—”

  “I haven’t found any sign of them yet,” John said. “I’ll have to keep looking.”

  “But your head…”

  “It’ll get better. Always does.” When there was no response, he continued. “I’ll go back to the grandfather’s place again tomorrow. That’s why I rang. I’m going to be away a bit longer than I thought.”