Blood & Dust. Jason Nahrung
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see clearly what had caused the glint - the man had a piece of half-inch steel protruding from his chest.
'Jesus,' he said. 'Why did we bother tying him up? He's gotta be dead.'
'You'd think so, wouldn't you?' There was no humour in the cop's voice as he grabbed the end of the steel and pulled. For a moment, nothing happened, then the metal gave, slowly inching out of the biker's chest with a low, wet sucking sound.
The biker coughed, groaned.
The cop pulled a big-arse knife, a Bowie or something like that, from under his jacket as he told Kevin, 'Get me a bucket or a glass, anything that's clean. Hurry!'
Kevin brought the first thing he could find - an oversized souvenir mug from a stand near the front door. It bore a picture of a fish and rod with a logo reading, 'Welcome to Barlow's Siding, yellowbelly country'. He wiped a swatch of dust off on his sleeve and handed the mug to the cop.
The guy paid it the barest of glances, just said, 'Hold it for a minute' before crouching over the biker.
'You know what I want, Taipan. Give it up.'
'Go fuck yourself.'
The cop seized the man's jaw. 'I can take your head right here. Your only hope is to stay useful to me.'
'Until we get to Brissie and I lose it anyway. No time like the present, eh?'
Dave's breath rattled wetly.
'I don't have time for your games, Taipan.' The cop plunged his knife into the biker's shoulder.
Taipan barely reacted. 'It don't hurt, y'know.'
'If Dave dies, you're next, and I swear to God, it will hurt.'
'Swear to whoever you like. I ain't doin' nothin' for you, Hunter.'
'Push his sleeve up,' Hunter told Kevin. 'Don't worry, he can't hurt you. Just don't look in his eyes. You never know what mojo they're packin'.'
'You wanna tell me what the fuck's going on? My dad's gonna be here any minute.'
Hunter's eyes were two massive pupils of glowing red ringed with bands of gun metal grey - an animal in the headlights. 'Just hold this bastard's sleeve up for me. Do it, or my partner's gonna die here on your floor, and you can tell your old man you let it happen.'
Kevin did as he was told. The biker's skin felt cool and smooth, tight with corded muscle.
'What's your name, fella?' he asked Kevin. The guy acted so relaxed, sprawled there as though on a sun lounge waiting for his cocktail to be served, but there was a hint of cold in his dark brown eyes. A touch of snake, watchful and deadly. 'Handy under the bonnet, are ya?'
'Don't look at him,' Hunter snapped, and Kevin jerked his eyes from the biker's and watched, fascinated and confused, as the cop ran his knife down Taipan's forearm. The skin parted, showing as red as a steak done rare. Blood trickled from the cut. Hunter punched the wound. 'Let it down, you bastard!'
The biker stared hate at him.
Kevin backed away. 'Jesus Christ, what kind of cop are you?'
'He ain't no cop,' Taipan said, his voice filled with disgust.
'Hold him steady, damn you!' Hunter turned back to the biker. 'Sun's up, creep. You choose.'
Taipan smiled, teeth very white. Blood ran in a thick burgundy stream from the wound in his arm.
Hunter manoeuvred the mug to catch the pitter-patter.
Kevin backed into a shelf, rattling containers of oil and coolant. 'What the hell are you doing?'
Hunter didn't answer. When the mug was brimming, he crawled to his partner and raised the man's head onto his knees. 'Here, Dave, this'll put you right.'
The dogs yapped and the door buzzer sounded and, for one frozen moment, no-one moved at all.
TWO
Kevin's father stood in the aisle looking confused indeed. He raised his hands - one clutching a lunch bag, a peace offering from Kevin's mother, no doubt.
The cop had somehow managed to put down the mug and draw a squat pistol in the time it had taken Kevin to say, 'Dad, something's seriously fucked up here.'
'Special Branch,' Hunter said. 'Let me be and I'll explain.'
'Explain why you got two injured men on my service station floor, or why you're holding a gun on me?'
'Both. But I gotta do this or my partner's a goner.'
Kevin's father dropped the bag on the nearest shelf and folded his arms across his chest, his lips tight with restrained anger. 'Well, be quick about it. I could have customers any minute.'
'Yeah, it's peak hour out there.' The cop left the pistol close at hand as he picked up the mug again. He dipped a finger in the brew, pulled it out dripping and said, 'Still warm.'
Bile burned in Kevin's throat as Hunter forced Dave to swallow the blood. Twin streams trickled from the sides of the injured cop's mouth. Hunter let Dave's head down gently, then tore away his shirt to allow him to pour the remnants of the mug's contents onto a puckered wound on his chest.
Hunter reached for his belt, swore, then asked Kevin, 'You got a hammer?'
'Huh?'
He nudged the spike. 'This isn't gonna put itself back in.'
'Cunt,' Taipan snarled.
Hunter holstered his gun, stood and fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. 'You get me a hammer, boy, and you - what's your name?'
'Thomas Matheson. This is my service station, and that's my son you're pointing that gun at.'
'Well, Tom, I'm gonna need a vehicle. The faster the better. What've you got?'
'I got a car. Up at the house.'
'So, the kid here gets me that hammer so I can secure my prisoner, and you get me the wheels. I'll see you're compensated.'
Kevin's father frowned then nodded for him to do as the cop said. 'I'll watch you secure your prisoner, and then I'll get you your wheels.'
Kevin ran into the garage - a lighter sparked behind him, sounding like a knife being sharpened - and returned with the first mallet he found. 'You really gonna hammer that thing back into him?'
'Fucking oath.' Hunter took a deep drag on his cigarette.
Taipan pulled himself into a sitting position. His sleeve slid back down.
Kevin stared at the man's arm, wishing he could see through the cloth. He'd glimpsed a thin blood trail, but he hadn't seen the gash. It was almost as if… But that couldn't be.
Hunter flicked ash and put his cigarette back in his mouth before gesturing to Kevin to hand over the mallet.
'Hear that?' Taipan said. 'That's your death comin'. Alla youse.'
'I don't hear nothin',' Kevin said.
Hunter cocked his head. 'Good set of ears, this bastard.' He nodded to himself. The dogs whined outside. 'It won't do you any good, Taipan.' He poised the stake over the biker's chest, then gave it an almighty whack.
Taipan jerked as the spike sank an inch into his chest. He spat blood across the cop's face. Hunter ignored it and brought the mallet down again. The biker spasmed once more, then lay still, eyes staring, a trickle of blood worming bright and viscous from the corner of his mouth. Hunter sat back, wiped his face with a handkerchief and tucked it back in his pants pocket. 'I need that car, sport. Kid, keep an eye on Dave for me.'
'Jesus,' Kevin said. 'Look at that.'
The injured cop was breathing regularly. Even had a bit of colour in his cheeks.
Kevin's father stepped closer to look and said, 'Just what in the hell is going on here?'
'Ah, crap.'