by Nick Spill
“You got any money on you?” Matthew held up the keys to Billy’s ’65 Chevy Impala SS. The car had a noisy muffler and threadbare tires, but Billy loved it almost as much as his Les Paul guitar.
“Yes, a little, why?”
“Well, fill ’er up and return it to Billy. He needs it tonight.” Matthew threw the keys at Clovis and, before he backed out from between two parked cars, he yelled at his violinist, “And don’t break down again!”
Matthew eased between the pumps and headed towards the Motorway.
Clovis walked over to the Chevy, started it up and backed around to the pumps. He was very careful with the loose clutch. He got behind a van that was full of small children and a yapping poodle. He waited for his turn at the leaded regular pump.
• • •
John steered the old truck on the far left northbound lane of the Motorway. Terry should be right behind him, but John could not see him because the side mirror was stuck. He did not want to pull over and fix it. When he got the motor up to 50 miles per hour, he suspected the fuel gauge did not work. He tapped the gauge but it remained on a quarter full. He planned to pull over at the next gas station that was ahead. He did not want to run out of gas on the Motorway. When he came to the service station, he slowed down and pulled over.
The service station was doing a brisk business on Sunday afternoon. Three cars were ahead of John as he drove up to the canopy. He jumped out and checked that the top of the truck would clear the canopy. It would not. John stood with his hands on his hips.
“Why did you stop?” Terry had pulled up next to him.
“The gauge is broken.”
“Fill her up quick. Then let’s get outta here.” Terry looked around nervously. John had to turn the truck around then back it up to the nearest pump on the other side of the canopy, as Terry directed him.
• • •
When Chuck saw the truck pull into the gas station with the Ford right behind it, he panicked. He came to a skidding stop on the shoulder of the Motorway. He tried to spot the Land Rover because he knew this would be the time Ricky would decide to push the button. Chuck had lost sight of the Land Rover a couple of miles back, in his effort to keep the truck in view. If they were out of sight of the truck, they might get anxious and push the button, regardless. The plan had been to wait for the right time, even if that meant blowing up the truck somewhere in Auckland.
“Don’t worry,” Ricky explained to Plum Blossom. She had regained her senses and understood what was going on. “This has a range of over three miles. Just because they’re out of sight doesn’t mean this won’t work.” He held the radio-controlled device in his right hand for Plum to see. She leaned over the front seat, fascinated. Moana sat upright and wondered where the bad smell was coming from, her or Plum.
“I can’t see Chuck,” Bruce complained. He kept checking his rearview mirror. A traffic cop was behind them on a Honda 750 motorcycle. To Bruce, it appeared the cop was hovering in his mirror.
Ricky extended the aerial to its full length.
“We can’t do it if we can’t see them. There’re innocent people out there,” Bruce pleaded. He looked to the horizon and the busy Motorway and the traffic policeman on their tail. “Shit.” He whistled. “I think he’s going to stop us.”
“Don’t be stupid. We’re not even speeding.” Ricky tried not to turn around as he held the radio device in both hands. If they all stared at the cop, he would pull them over.
“If we wait any longer we might be out of range. We might lose them forever. Then what? What if they find it? What would they do to you, Bruce? Your family?” Ricky asked.
“Do it. Just do it,” Plum muttered. She stared at the device Ricky held in his hand. Her voice was hoarse and tense. “If you knew what he did to me, you’d destroy him.” Her voice choked and she fought back tears.
• • •
Clovis had put $5 worth of gas in the Chevy. He gave the money to the attendant, turned around and noticed a tall lanky man in his thirties smiling at him. Clovis recognized the grin but not the face.
“Hey, partner! Fancy meeting you here.” The thin man hailed Clovis like an old friend.
Clovis’s expression changed to mild surprise.
“Hot diggity! That place you recommended was too much. Got a little Maori girl. She was as tight as a young ewe, if you know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t.” It was the man from Suicide City in the Mercedes who had picked him up the last time he was out here.
“Anyway, I hadda rush back. My dad was a little crock. Too much piss. But he’s okay now and I’m back for another taste of the wicked city. Can’t wait!”
“Take care,” Clovis muttered, unable to remember the man’s name. He heard the Mercedes pull away from the adjacent pump.
He opened the door to the Chevy and caught sight of a large man in a blue blazer staring at his car. The man stood next to an old truck.
Clovis knocked his knees against the steering wheel. He adjusted his rearview mirror and saw a smaller man who stood next to the giant. Clovis started the engine, revved up the motor and slipped into first. He let the clutch out too fast and stalled. He started the engine again and eased out from the pump, riding the clutch and making a whining noise with the transmission. A family of five in a Toyota pulled into his space. Two children were screaming in the back for ice creams.
Another car pulled up ahead of him, temporarily blocking his way out. There was a large Samoan family squashed into an oversized American car that had most of its markings and paint removed. He held onto the hand brake as the car backed out to give him room to leave. He thought of Wiremu and what could have happened to him that afternoon. He squeezed the steering wheel and released the hand brake as he edged past the big car.
• • •
Chuck spun his back wheel around and aimed his Kawasaki at the oncoming traffic. He could not see the Land Rover and could not imagine what had held them up. He let out the throttle and charged down the shoulder of the road zooming past cars going against him who honked their horns. He climbed to 50, 60, 70 miles per hour. Where were they?
He spotted them as the traffic cop on the Honda switched on his siren and flashing light. Chuck tried to wave one arm to attract Bruce’s attention. He could see people struggling in the Land Rover. As he attempted to brake, an oncoming car clipped his front wheel and he lost control of the bike.
• • •
Clovis Tibet stopped at the edge of the service station and looked back at the oncoming cars. He waited for a reasonable gap in the traffic in the inside lane. He was unsure of the Chevy’s acceleration and he had no desire to be rammed and then have to inform Billy and Matthew what had happened. He let the clutch out when he saw a gap and stalled. He pulled on the hand brake and tried to start the engine again. It would not turn.
John Eustace climbed back into the cabin satisfied that the fuel tank was full. He could not find a spanner to fix the side mirror, but that did not bother him. He wanted to get moving. He saw Terry walking back to his car with an ice cream cone, smiling like a little kid. Now there is cool, John mused. The man has millions of dollars of dope in an old truck stopped for gas on the Motorway and he gets an ice cream.
• • •
“If you won’t, I will!” Plum Blossom screamed.
“We can’t do it out of sight. Look at all these cars,” Bruce yelled back.
Ricky sat in the front seat and held the device in his hands like an ice cream that was about to melt. The aerial pointed forwards.
“Shall I or shan’t I?” He asked. To him it was still a game. He did not know if the detonator would work. It could have become detached with all the jolting of the truck. He turned back to face Moana.
Moana’s eyes widened and she shouted, “Look out!”
Bruce saw the motorcycle coming towards them down the inside of their lane. Then he recognized the bike. The siren behind them went off. Bruce saw a car ahead of them clip the motorcycle an
d send it out of control. He slammed on his brakes to avoid running over his own brother.
When the Land Rover braked, Plum leaned forward and grabbed the device out of Ricky’s hand.
Ricky screamed, “No! No!”
Bruce thought Ricky was screaming at the bike as he saw Chuck lose his balance and skid across the road towards them. The traffic cop was to the right of Bruce so he could not swerve the Land Rover out of the way. The cop could not see the biker lose control.
Ricky grabbed Plum by the wrists and tried to tear the device from her. The aerial poked Ricky in the eye. Moana hit the back of Bruce’s seat as he braked hard and went into a controlled skid. Plum broke free with one hand and pushed the red button with her thumb.
“Die! Die! Motherfuckers!”
Bruce heard Plum screaming as Chuck and the bike came sliding towards the Land Rover as he grappled with the steering. He tried to estimate where the wheels were going and where Chuck’s head was moving as he felt a clunk as they finally came to a stop. The traffic cop came to a halt farther down the road, narrowly missing the bike as it spun on its side. Cars rammed into each other, as they could not brake in time. Both lanes were blocked with multiple collisions.
They heard one explosion, followed by more explosions, until there was only a thundering roar.
Plum dropped the box and fell out of the Land Rover. Her head had smashed against the front seat and there was a gash on her forehead, but she was oblivious to the pain. She ran sobbing in the direction of the explosions.
“You motherfuckers! You motherfuckers!” she yelled. “Burn in hell!”
• • •
John Eustace had switched on the ignition when he felt something like a huge hand lift him from his seat and throw him against the windshield. It happened so fast he had no time to think. His forehead smashed through the windshield and his hands became detached as they traveled through the broken glass. Pieces of his spinal cord and rib cage flew up into the air for hundreds of feet.
The first explosion ignited the fuel tank that was outside the cabin and adjacent to the driver’s seat. The force was enough to engulf the entire canopy in flames. The fuel pump next to the burning truck was knocked over by the blast and threw up a geyser of gasoline that quickly flooded the concrete concourse.
The second explosion occurred as Terry Turner, realizing the truck had been bombed, tried to run away from his car. He held his ice cream cone outstretched in one hand as the river of flaming gasoline ran past his shoes and ignited his trousers. He tried to stamp out the flames and waved his arms frantically, spilling the ice cream over his houndstooth jacket. His shoes melted into the concrete and he could not move. The flames came up to his knees and the flesh from his calves and feet started to fall off. He screamed in pain before he fell over and was drowned in the fire, his entire body consumed in black angry flames. Then the bullets next to his chest cooked off.
The next eruption blew out the remaining pumps. The canopy collapsed over the Samoan family trapped in their melting car. The young couple with the children and poodle, were incinerated in their metal coffin. The wall of flames spread out from the concourse to the Chevy as Clovis tried to restart the engine. The back tires exploded and the paint ignited as Clovis tried to push the door open. The metal expanded and jammed the door. He lifted his knees up and kicked the door with both feet. The door fell off and he leapt out to sprint across the road and away from the burning river of gasoline.
He threw himself into the ditch between the north and southbound lanes as the next blast sent shock waves over him. Billy’s car blew up as Clovis turned his head to see the firestorm reach up into the sky.
The underground fuel tanks exploded, tearing the ground up and hurtling the remains of the trapped cars and fuel pumps into the air. The gasoline charged with oxygen and intense heat rose up into an inferno that could be seen and heard for miles. Clovis struggled to breathe as he half crawled and half ran away from the conflagration. He did not know what direction he headed in, but he ran as fast as he could. The fire sucked in the surrounding air creating a fierce wind that seemed to draw him back.
Plum did not stop running until she came to within sight of the burning service station. She could smell the gasoline and fire. She imagined she saw Terry and John in the flames, burnt to an agonizing death. No one could have survived the inferno. She half walked, half hobbled down the middle of the empty road gasping for breath. Traffic on the southbound side of the Motorway had come to a halt, out of range of the paint-searing furnace Plum walked towards.
She felt the heat against her face. She looked up to see a huge black column of smoke. She saw a tall bearded figure running towards her. She thought his beard and hair was on fire. Then she recognized him. She ran as fast as she could towards him, crying his name that was drowned out by the roar of the firestorm.
As Clovis ran away from the heat, he thought his clothes would ignite. Then he saw a lone figure in front of him, a small barefooted woman in a short dress with a pageboy haircut.
• • •
Bruce leapt out of the Land Rover. He had no time to catch Plum as she ran away. He saw she had dropped the device in the back seat after she had pressed the button. Chuck was pinned under the front of the Land Rover, his legs and chest stuck under the front drive shaft. Bruce knelt down beside him and eased off the helmet. Chuck looked up to him, his eyes were dazed and blood came out of his mouth as he spoke.
“Service station,” he uttered. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He opened them again when Moana knelt beside him and touched his forehead.
“Please, god, don’t let this man die,” she prayed.
Chuck tried to smile. “I won’t. I can’t move.”
Ricky had already taken the jack out from the back and was securing it underneath the Land Rover. The traffic cop radioed in for help, though the dispatcher had trouble believing his request for every fire truck in South Auckland.
• • •
Mel stopped her car on a side street at the top of Ridge Road at Wiremu’s request.
“It’s okay.” He turned to Mel and Henry. “I know a car back here I can borrow. I’m going up north to say good-bye to Hone. Then I’m lying low. So don’t worry about me. I’ll survive.” He leaned forward and gave Henry and Mel an awkward hug.
“You saved my life back there. One day I will repay you. You two go get married and take a nice long honeymoon.” He forced a laugh and hit them both on the back. “Look at that!”
They saw a huge tower of black smoke rising into the sky.
“I only hope you find Plum soon. Give my love to her and Clovis.” He slammed the door and hopped over a fence and disappeared.
Mel and Henry sat in the car motionless, gazing out at the black smoke. Mel reached out and held his hand.
“I wonder if that is connected to us?”
Henry frowned as Mel gazed into the distance.
“Did you hear what he said? Go get married.”
Mel turned on the radio. Maybe there was something about the fire. Procol Harum was playing “Too Much Between Us.”
They sat holding hands as the black cloud grew thicker and higher.
• • •
Inspector Grimble had an ice pack on his neck. Cadd knelt beside him in the grass as armed policemen ran back and forth. More ambulances arrived. The three dead Maoris lay spread out where they had fallen, and Hei Hei and Rangi were still entombed in the Bedford. They awaited the photographer and the forensic team.
“No fucking Wiremu Wilson. A dead Hei Hei who would have squealed his head off and half the drug squad shot up. Christ!” he muttered. “I could’ve sworn I saw him in front of me in the bush. I could’ve sworn. I can’t remember a thing.”
McShane stuck his head out of the communications van.
“Bernie! It’s for you. The commissioner! I’ve never heard him so angry.”
Inspector Grimble dragged himself out of the back seat and tried to straighten up. He had
the worst migraine of his life. He lifted his neck back to see if there were any clouds, and in the distance farther south, he saw a huge column of black smoke climbing into the sky.
• • •
Plum and Clovis fell into each other’s arms. He picked her up and swung her around and around, unable to say or understand anything. She was alive! Tears filled his eyes. She buried her head in his singed beard and held on as tightly as she could. She kept repeating, “Clovis. Clovis,” as he held her tight. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
• • •
Shanghai Sam stood up and arched his back. He had spent all Sunday afternoon weeding and hoeing between the parsley plants. He caught sight of a huge spiral of smoke, like a pillar of death to the northeast. He had heard a series of booms earlier but had thought nothing of them. There was no wind and the air and insects were still.
Sam wiped his brow. He felt sad that he was estranged from his young family. They no longer visited him or showed him respect. He was the forgotten grandfather, not the patriarch he would have been in the old days. Everything had changed. How he regretted the coming of this modern age. There were no more traditions.
He stared at the black column and wished that all the enemies of his family were climbing up to hell in that thick smoke. He stood and watched it for a long time, until it reached through the ceiling of the blue sky to the heavens.
THE END
Notes
Operation Weedout: There was a concerted effort in the 1970s to destroy marijuana plants grown on Crown Land (public lands). Huey helicopters used in the Vietnam War, from the US Army, moved large quantities of harvested marijuana plants to central collection points where they were incinerated. Flowering plants spread marijuana seeds across Northland. Opossums and other mammals could be seen lying in the bush, stoned, gazing at the clouds.
