The Carnival is Over, page 23
‘Got it,’ Hal said, and tightened his belt.
As she pulled out, a shout came from behind them. Lloyd tried to open the back door, but Hal banged the lock down.
Lloyd yelled, ‘Open the fucken door!’
Neridah screwed her eyes shut, regretting her decision.
Hal said, ‘Drive—get going. Drive.’
She drove.
There was the crash of a rock on the rear door and Hal looked back to see Lloyd with his arms raised, yelling obscenities. Then his tiny furious figure was swallowed by the darkness.
‘Got a temper, your mate,’ Neridah said.
‘He means well.’
48
Nancy had been driving along the two-lane sealed road for what seemed forever. She supposed they might be somewhere north-west of Tabulam. As they approached a turn-off that looked like a fire trail or a timber-cutting track, Virgil said, ‘Slow down.’
She braked. The car veered across the white lines and back before slowing and straightening up. She glanced in the mirror and saw Allie grab the safety strap and swing wildly into the door. She whispered, ‘Sorry.’
Their abductor sat up and pointed: ‘Turn right—down there.’
Nancy slowed to a stop then gingerly veered right onto a narrow track. A narrow aisle between tall, pale gum trees—ghost gums?—the track was barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass. She wondered what would happen if another one came towards them. She hoped one would.
‘Where are we going, David?’ she said, easing her car along the bumpy track.
‘Just drive, like I told you.’
‘This car isn’t made for roads like this. We’ll wreck the suspension.’ The Datsun was all over the road, thumping their heads against the ceiling as it bounced over ruts and potholes.
‘Daddy’ll buy you another one,’ he sneered.
Allie, who had been silent the whole way, echoed the question from the back. ‘Where are you taking us?’ Her voice was shaky and high-pitched like a child’s.
‘Are we there yet?’ their abductor mocked her in a toddler’s voice. Nothing more was said until, several miles deeper into the forest of pale branches, they approached a clearing at the edge of the deep-rutted track. ‘Pull over.’
Nan slowed and eased the car over onto the soft shoulder of the road. She came to a stop and let the engine idle.
‘Turn it off.’
‘First, what d’you want with us, mister?’ Allie said, louder. ‘You’re going to be in a heap of trouble if you don’t get us back right now.’
He waved the rifle over the top of the seat towards Allie, toying with her. ‘You lie down and go to sleep, missy.’ His tongue darting across those purple lips reminded her of a snake’s. ‘Just behave yourself and no one’ll get hurt. I’ll have a little job for you later on. Now lie down and get your beauty sleep.’
She lay down on the back seat, though sleep was the last thing on her mind.
Virgil told Nan to take her dress off. She whispered, ‘No David, don’t.’
‘Go on. Take it off now,’ he said, ‘and lie down for me.’
Allie’s heart was thudding against her chest so loud she could barely hear Nan pleading with him, ‘Don’t. Please. You’re better than this.’
‘I’ve got J.T.’s blessing; go ahead.’
Nan sat up, her eyes wide with disgust. ‘J.T.’s blessing? You’re lying!’
‘Ask him,’ he said, purple mouth smiling. ‘He said it would do you the world of good to have a real man in your life for once. Well, here I am, honey.’
‘He never said that,’ she hissed. ‘Never!’
‘Quiet. You’ve had this coming a long time.’ Virgil’s hand reached around the back of Nan’s head, grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched it towards him. ‘You little prickteaser.’
Nan shrieked, and Allie lay there petrified as he pulled Nan to his face; she kept up a muted howling into his painted mouth as he kissed her. She beat her arms against his ribs, he let her break away, and she spat in his face and sat up, trembling so hard Allie could feel her own seat shuddering.
She saw him looking at Nan with a weird, embarrassed smile. Like a little boy who’d been caught out doing something shameful. He realised there was spit running down his cheek; wiped it off. Then he slowly swung back his arm and slapped Nan so hard it flung her down onto the seat. When he pulled her dress up the fabric ripped apart.
Allie flung herself upright, shouting, ‘Get your hands off her you filthy pig—’
‘Stay out of it.’ He reached back and shoved Allie down onto her seat, grinding her cheek into the hard vinyl until she went still.
Then he turned back to Nan. She let out a moan of terror.
‘Leave her alone,’ Allie screamed. Virgil peered over the seat and pressed the rifle hard into her forehead.
‘Do you want to live?’ he whispered. ‘If you do—want to live…?’ He stared so hard into her eyes it felt like small scaly creatures were burrowing into her soul. ‘Then keep your mouth shut. Simple enough for you? Dumbo?’
At that moment Allie believed he would kill her without the slightest hesitation.
She lay down and kept her mouth shut as he lowered the rifle and she closed her eyes and heard the little sounds of violence. Fabric tearing. Flesh in contact. Muffled noises of satisfaction; distress.
And even when she heard Nan sobbing quietly under his grunting, Allie said nothing. This is what white people do to each other, she thought, hoping it would console her. But this white girl had been nothing less than a friend to her since the moment they’d met. And she’d done nothing to deserve any of this.
Allie kept her eyes closed and pictured herself gutting this clown slowly with a knife. Smashing his skull. Anything to shut off his pig-grunting forever.
•
The tan-coloured Black Maria approached a Y-intersection. Neridah slowed; one sign said Tabulam 51 miles, and the other, pointing north, said Texas 86 miles.
‘Tabulam.’ Hal pointed to the right branch. ‘He’ll be heading for the coast.’
She shook her head. ‘Did Nan say Queensland?’ Hal nodded. ‘The way with least traffic is west. North-west.’ She turned off down the left branch, towards the back road north to the one-horse town they grandly called Texas. Hal gritted his teeth and made no comment.
Mick and Ross were an hour ahead of Neridah on the road to Texas, driving through a forested stretch of road, thick bush and tall stringybarks both sides of the car. Timber-getters’ territory. Shady by the light of day, and pitch black on a starless night, like tonight. And now a mist had come up. They drove on high beam, headlong into a thickening fog.
Mick tried the radio again, but could get nothing but white noise. Through the static a woman’s voice cut in.
‘That Neridah?’ Ross said.
‘Can’t be. She’d be well out of range by now.’ But the voice flared again. A young woman’s voice. Mick eyed the radio, exasperated.
‘She wouldn’t,’ Ross said. ‘Would she?’
Mick frowned and spoke into the radio: ‘Neridah, is that you? Over.’ Thick static. ‘If that’s Constable Wakeley, then you should be heading to Moorabool Hospital with those boys, now. One of them has injuries. Is that you, Neridah? Over.’
There was a short blast of static, the woman said ‘Hello?’ Then nothing.
‘Neridah? If that’s you, turn around and head south. Over.’ More static. ‘Neridah? You read me? Go back to Moorabool—’
An explosion of static from the radio, a young male voice cut in. ‘She’s driving north to Texas to offer support. I’m with Neridah, Mick. With Constable Wakeley, that is, because many hands make light work—as you used to say, Mick.’
‘The bloody hell d’you think you’re doing? Hal?’ Mick scowled at the radio.
Neridah’s voice prompted, ‘Over?’
Hal added, ‘Sorry. Over.’
‘Hal!’ Mick shouted into the receiver. ‘D’you read me? Over. Hal!’
Then it was over: nothing, not even static. Mick thumped the dashboard. ‘She’s got no idea what she’s in for if she finds him.’ He shook his head, as Ross dipped the high beam on and off.
‘She’s no idiot, Mick,’ Ross smiled. ‘And she’s scared of nothing.’
‘Well that’s just fabulous isn’t it.’ He scowled at the windscreen and muttered, ‘Goose,’ as they drove deeper into the swirling mist.
49
Allie lay on the vinyl back seat, eyes shut tight. When the noise died out, she heard a single exhalation from Nan. A stab of breath, no emotion in it. Like she wouldn’t give him the slightest sense of her pain. The only thing Allie could hope for was that he was so immersed in his own gratification that he’d forgotten the frightened girl in the back.
Now Nan had been silent for so long, it crossed Allie’s mind that she might be dead. Then there came a slight clunk from the front seat.
Allie opened her eyes just a crack, in case he was watching her. He was not. He looked to be dozing. Nan raised her head ever so slightly, and stared at the rifle. It was propped against the front seat, leaned over Nan, business end to the ceiling. In the rear-view mirror Allie met Nan’s eyes. Without even the smallest movement of her head, Nan darted her eyes towards the rifle. Prompting Allie.
Hell’s bells.
Allie looked at the slowly heaving shoulders of the rapist. Built like a bull. His hairy white buttocks ludicrously exposed, trousers bunched around his thighs. Nan’s reflection eyed her and Allie forced herself upright. She reached out. Inch by inch her hand crept forward, until it wrapped around the barrel of the rifle. She held her breath; perspiring with the effort, and with both hands lifted it silently over the seat towards her. She put the stock to her armpit, the way she’d seen her dad shoulder his .22. She pointed it at the back of Virgil’s head and cocked it. He was snoring and didn’t notice. Until she poked the muzzle into his mop of brown hair and the end of it prodded his skull. And he froze.
‘Don’t move,’ Allie said, ‘or I’ll shoot.’ She gave his skull a hard poke.
‘Shoot him in the head,’ Nan cried. ‘Shoot him. Shoot him!’
Allie clenched her teeth, her heart fluttering wildly. She aimed at his shoulder and pulled the trigger.
A muted click. Then nothing. She pulled it again. Nothing. Oh fuck. Virgil’s high-pitched cackle exploded and his hand shot out and grabbed the barrel. He tore the rifle out of her hands, leaving her fingers throbbing.
He stopped laughing and said, ‘If you want to shoot someone, you have to take the safety off. Didn’t they teach you anything at school, sweet pea?’
He shoved Nan aside, reached over the seat and grabbed Allie’s throat with his free hand, squeezed it until she was choking, and she slapped at his thick forearms, as he shook her like he was playing with a puppy. ‘Now lie down, and don’t say boo to a goose,’ he said, ‘Or I’ll cut your throat. It’s your turn next—don’t worry, I got nothing against black velvet.’
Nan said, ‘Leave her alone for God’s sake.’
‘What?’ He stopped, and winked at Allie like it was all part of some funny little game the three of them were playing. ‘Speak up, Nan, can’t hear ya.’ He hissed something into her ear.
Nan shook her head, nauseated.
‘All that time I was polite to you, and patient and kind,’ he said, hurt roughening his voice, ‘and you treated me like some dogshit you’d trod in. Lady fucking Muck. Speak up.’
‘You’re the best, David. Now please…’ Her voice was as faint as dry wind over dead leaves. ‘Please make…love…to me again.’
Then he roared laughing. And when he stopped, he said smugly, ‘When I’m good and ready, sweet pea…Oh, all right, why not.’
Allie lay trembling on the back seat as he had another go at Nan. Or tried to. It seemed he was having some trouble, after the distraction of the rifle. He cursed her and yelled, ‘Don’t rush me, woman.’
Allie shut her eyes. Her thoughts returned to Hal and Lloyd. She wondered if either of the boys had been shot. She’d heard the rapist bash Lloyd with the rifle butt. She heard Hal try to intervene, like he always did. The thing that made him different from other boys; he said he wasn’t brave, but he stood up for people. Always had, as long as she’d known him. Stuck his neck out, though it got him in trouble.
She heard a snore from the front, then another. Her terror subsided for a moment.
And at that moment she heard a sound in the distance. An engine. Too loud for a car—a truck. Getting closer.
She raised her head slowly and peered through the foggy rear window. Saw the two pinpoints of light in the darkness. Growing bigger. Like two eyes in the dark. Warm eyes, coming towards them.
Has he heard it? No, he was still snoring. Here was a chance. She heard a faint whisper. ‘Allie? Go…Go.’
Allie knew exactly what Nan meant, but she didn’t dare move. She wasn’t brave. She wasn’t. It was silent in the front. Had he heard her? Or the truck, roaring up towards them? He would. Any second, surely.
A louder snore.
She pulled herself slowly up and reached for the door handle. Her hand tightened on the metal. She waited as the truck shifted gears, and the engine whined, then roared up to them, its lights flooding the cabin, lighting it up like daylight. Allie shoved the door open and leapt out, arms waving madly, into the searing light.
50
The driver was hauling his weekly load of raw woolly butt logs from the logging camp deep in the forest. He’d just shifted into fourth when he saw the little Japanese car pulled over on the shoulder, windows all fogged up.
Long way from town. What’s it doing way out here? Get bogged if they’re not careful…Maybe it is bogged. He dropped into third, the engine howled—and someone shot out of the back door.
A girl, leaping from the back seat and waving her arms at him, yelling something at him as he drove up at thirty, twenty, fifteen miles an hour, her mouth wide. She looks scared shitless, she yelled something. He was staring at her, when something—someone—pulled her back into the car. When he checked the mirror the car door was closed. As if nothing had happened.
What was that about? She looked terrible. Did she say ‘Help’? Could be drunk. Just some kids having a big night out away from their parents. Having a bit of fun in the back seat. He drove on.
But something was nagging at him. Help? Was the car in trouble? Or was the girl in the car in trouble? Trouble—from who? He shook his head. His load had to be in Mount Isa in six hours and he’d already lost half an hour to the muddy back roads. Too late to stop. Keep going. If they’d broken down, someone would be along sooner or later. They’d just have to wait it out. And now there was a big patch of mist coming up in this valley near the turnoff to Texas.
Just as he shifted down to second coming into the turn, he was almost hit by a cop car racing towards Tabulam. He blasted his airhorns at it. It just roared past, lights bathing the cabin in red and blue for a second. What could be that urgent out here?
He turned onto the road west to Texas, as the cop car sailed away from him in the opposite direction. Right. The driver put his shortwave on, tuned in to the police band and almost immediately, out of the static, caught a woman’s voice. A request for information. Something about a couple of girls in a car…abducted…might be heading north to Queensland. In a Datsun 1200. That Jap car down the logging track.
He was drumming his fingers on the wheel when he saw another car bearing down on him from out of the fog. As it got closer, he saw it was a police van. Hurtling towards him, no flashers on. He flashed his high beam at it, and blasted the horn but it sailed past. Bugger. Seconds later, he checked the rear-view, peered into the mist, saw the cop car’s lights turning around. Then it was sailing up after him.
He dropped into first, and eased the load over as far as he safely could. Let them come alongside. He rolled his window down. So did he…she! A lady policeman. He’d heard they were around now; first he’d seen, though. A boy sitting with her for some reason. Longhair.
She yelled out the question he was expecting. He yelled back what she wanted to hear. She sped off into the mist. He sat there, staring into the side mirror, watching her lights dwindling into the night. Then the dark folded in on itself like black fog around his rig.
With Ross driving, Goodenough put out a radio alert to Glen Innes police. No one there. Tenterfield—nothing doing. Their friend Constable Feldmaus, was he gone for the night, too? Scraping the bottom of the barrel, he tried Moorabool. No joy, of course. Why would Petrovic be at work after midnight? He was away, pig shooting or trout fishing or something else far enough away to dodge any responsibility at all, let alone an emergency.
Mick switched to the open police band, got someone from Stanthorpe Police Station, twenty miles across the Queensland border. Senior Constable Lewis, his voice loud and clear.
‘Unfortunately, I can’t leave the station,’ Lewis said. And there was no one else to check the road from the south, let alone run a roadblock. But he promised to alert his three constables, who could be on highway patrol from 7 am.
‘Too late,’ Mick said. ‘We could have injured girls on our hands by then. Or worse.’ An ugly memory bubbled up from the cesspool of his subconscious: the Bardsley Beach girls; their shallow graves in the dunes.
Not now. ‘This man is violent, he’s armed, he’s got hostages and he’s heading for Queensland.’ He told Lewis in brief about the perpetrator with the history of violence, the two girls and their boyfriends he’d abducted in the Datsun 1200. He left out the revenge motive, and any reference to the daughter of J.T. Aldridge, who was a household name even as far away as Stanthorpe.
‘Good luck. If I hear anything, I’ll be in touch,’ Senior Constable Lewis said. ‘Over.’
Mick replaced the transceiver on its hook and said, ‘Let’s turn round, Ross.’
