Wild Dogs, page 28
A thought occurred to Chase. Were the Afghan and the blackfella really waiting in Carnarvon, or were they waiting somewhere else? Maybe on that flat-topped hill he could see in the distance, both with a scoped rifle in their hands, just as he had planned to do before he was persuaded by Jefferson to follow him back to Brigadier. He knew they had taken Gabe’s weapon, but felt sure the dogger would have another, more legal, rifle somewhere in his ute. As fine a weapon as the M1 he now cradled was, Chase doubted it was Gabe’s only one.
He scanned the horizon for any glint from a scope, but the sun was to the west now, in front of them. It was exceptionally bright and hurt his eyes a little. He looked back, but could see nothing. Perhaps he was getting jittery. He was tired and his wrist throbbed despite the aspirins he’d been taking. He supposed he would have to get it looked at eventually. Now was not the time though.
The gunshot startled him badly, and as the first pained cries began he saw Gabe dart into the scrub. He moved pretty quick for an old fellow, despite that slight limp he carried. Chase hoisted the rifle and sent two quick shots after him, but was hampered by his wrist and they were wide of the mark. He hurried to where Jefferson and the others were standing over the unfortunate Jarrod, who was clutching what remained of his right leg.
The sight made even Chase wince. The shell had gone off only a metre away, and the result was gruesome. The man’s jeans below the knee were shredded and most of his calf was missing. The pellets, not having time to spread before striking, had shattered his shin bone, almost tearing the leg away completely. Chase could see the jagged white edges of bone as Jarrod writhed in pain. A small, rubber-jawed dog trap still clung to his boot.
‘Help me,’ the man moaned. Chase didn’t know him all that well, or the other two for that matter. He generally stayed clear of Brigadier, instead acting as an escort for the drug packages and refugee transfers. And, when needed, the executioner.
‘Think that leg’s fucked, mate,’ he said. And probably the owner with it too. Even if they weren’t in the middle of nowhere, the amount of blood he was losing meant it would be touch and go anyway.
‘What the hell was that?’ asked Jefferson, looking around wildly for the shooter, his pistol waving about.
Chase pointed at the dog trap and the fine line running to the smaller, modified rabbit trap staked in the ground.
‘I told you he was a cunning bastard. Used one of these to take out my wheel yesterday. Christ, how many more are out there?’
‘Smart,’ the police officer said. ‘But we need him back. We lose those drugs and we’re all screwed.’
Chase spat on the ground. ‘I’m going back for the girl. You go find the old bastard, and when you do we’ll make her go in front.’
‘What about him?’ asked one of the other goons, pointing at his wounded comrade. Chase couldn’t remember his name. ‘Can’t leave him.’
‘He’s fucked,’ Chase said. ‘Put a tourniquet on him if it makes you feel better, or put him out of his misery. He’ll pass out shortly from blood loss. But either way, get after that dogger.’
The man was already incoherent and a horrible, clammy white colour. His companions regarded him for a moment, then set off into the bush.
‘Keep your eyes open,’ Chase warned as Jefferson followed. ‘He’s no fool.’
Jefferson nodded and disappeared with his gun drawn.
Chase began jogging back along the trail, heading for the ute, Wheldon and the girl, but after a few metres he considered that Gabe might have left more traps along the path that either he had led them around, or they had been lucky enough to miss. So he stepped off the trail, keeping it on his left.
He heard muffled calls, then gunshots rang out behind him, causing him to instinctively duck. Shit, now what? Had they found him, or did he find them? Despite being surrounded by head-high scrub, Chase suddenly felt very exposed. He picked up his pace, grunting every time his arm knocked against a branch as he pushed through the thicket.
Another five minutes of jogging and he was breathing hard. Sweat poured off him. That was when he heard the unmistakable sound of a motorbike, and he suddenly realised Gabe’s plan. Lose them in the scrub, either with his traps or by simply outpacing them in the confusion, then double back behind them with the bike he’d obviously stowed somewhere beforehand.
‘Shit,’ he swore again. It was only Wheldon guarding the nurse, and if Chase had to bet on who might come out on top, based on the last two days, he would put everything he had on the dogger.
The bike was somewhere to his right, taking a wide circle. He must know I’m not with the others. Which meant he would be prepared when Chase finally made it back to the ute. Prepared, or simply gone. He took two deep breaths and began to run.
FORTY-SIX
The man hadn’t stopped pacing since the others left. Wheldon kept staring at Parker’s body and then looking away. Courtney didn’t. She couldn’t. She barely knew the police officer, but that didn’t make it any easier. There was nothing to cover him with, and, considering her hands were cuffed again, that was impossible anyway. So she didn’t look, not wanting to see the flies that had already swarmed about the dead man’s face and wound.
She blinked, trying to keep the sweat from running down her forehead into her eyes, but to no avail. Her crying had stopped, but the stinging created tears anyway. She tried to wipe them away on her shoulders. It didn’t work and more flies gathered about her own eyes. Maybe some of those had been on Parker. Courtney shuddered.
‘Can you at least put my hands in front of me?’ she asked. ‘I’m choking on these flies.’
Wheldon didn’t reply.
‘What am I going to do? Run away? Attack you? I just want to wipe my face.’
He considered her for a minute, then approached. Courtney shrank back a little, fearing he might be about to refit the gag, but he yanked her to her feet and spun her around.
‘Don’t try anything,’ he warned after recuffing her hands in front of her.
‘What’s going to happen to me?’ she asked.
‘Not up to me.’
There was a note of resignation in his voice. Another glance at the dead policeman.
‘You won’t get away with this,’ she said. ‘The others will raise the alarm. They’ll find us. They’ll find you.’
‘Shut it,’ he warned, without conviction.
A muffled thud echoed towards them, making them both jump. Was that screaming she could hear? There were two more gunshots and her heart sank. What was happening to Gabe?
‘Let me go,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ll say you helped me, they’ll be lenient.’
‘Can’t.’ He stared into the scrub, towards the noise.
‘We can leave. Both of us, now.’
‘They’d find us,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You seem like a nice girl. I dunno how you got caught up in all this, but I can’t help you.’
‘How did you get caught up’ – she forced herself to look at Parker’s body – ‘in killing policemen?’
He looked away. ‘It was never supposed to be like this.’ Two more shots rang out in the distance, rolling across the sky. ‘Sounds like your dogger mate is causing some trouble.’
‘He’s pretty good at killing feral pests,’ Courtney retorted. ‘I’d be worried if I were you.’
‘Maybe,’ Wheldon said. ‘But so is our man.’
The gunshots had stopped. And so had the cries. She didn’t know if that was good or bad. It was definitely screaming she had heard. Didn’t sound like Gabe, but at that distance who could tell? Sound travelled out here, even with the intermittent breeze tugging at her hair.
Courtney sat on the driver’s seat, half in, half out of the vehicle. She contemplated her options while watching flies buzz around the empty packet of jerky Chase had discarded on the ground. Should she run? But to where? And how far could she really expect to get? What if Gabe had managed to slip his captors and was coming back for her, only to find her gone?
‘Can I get a drink from the back?’ she called.
Wheldon hesitated, then approached. He opened up the canopy, found the fridge and retrieved two bottles, opening one for her. She thought he might’ve taken a beer too, but he didn’t, and returned to staring into the bush, drinking his water. They said nothing, captive and captor both silent and straining to hear something, anything that would give some clue as to what was happening out there.
Courtney tilted her head, ever so slightly. Was that an engine? She glanced at Wheldon. He seemed not to notice anything. Yes, she was sure of it. A motorbike, riding very slowly off to their left. Her heart quickened. Darren had been on a motorbike the last time she saw him. Was it him, or had Gabe left it hidden somewhere ahead, knowing he would be needing it later? Either was possible, and Wheldon still hadn’t heard it. She had to distract him.
‘How does a guy go from being a station owner to a drug and people smuggler? It seems pretty wild, the sort of thing you might see in a movie. How do you even get the drugs down to the city? It’s ages away. Do you use a boat, or a car?’
He studied her curiously as she spoke. ‘What’s it to you?’
She barely paused to draw breath, speaking a little louder. He’d have to hear the bike shortly, wouldn’t he? ‘Just curious. It’s not like I’m going anywhere to tell anyone and—’
Before she realised it, he had grabbed her and pulled her out of the vehicle. He spun her around and held his pistol to her side, pressing himself hard behind her. Oh crap, he’s heard, she thought. Wheldon scanned the scrub. The motorbike had drawn closer and sounded as though it had circled them.
‘Who’s there?’ Wheldon yelled. No answer. ‘Chase? Jefferson?’
He wheeled, spinning her with him. The steady purr of the engine grew louder.
‘I’ll shoot her, swear to God I’ll fucking shoot her right here if you don’t show yourself!’
No response. Courtney didn’t dare move. She couldn’t see anything ahead of them, and it sounded like the bike had stopped. The engine still idled away, out of view.
Wheldon stared into the scrub, alternating between holding his gun outstretched towards the noise and pressed against her side. She could feel him trembling, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. He stank of sweat, cigarette smoke and fear. His arm straightened again, pointing ahead of them. The breeze dropped and everything went still, quiet save for the idling motor.
It was over before she knew it. A zinging past her ear turned to a horrible wet thud an instant before the gunshot’s crack rolled over her. Wheldon went rigid for a split second, and then dropped to the ground. Ears ringing, she staggered forward, stared back at Wheldon and promptly threw up, retching as the water and bile burned her throat. She had seen dead bodies well before this day. Cadavers during her training, and two separate car crash victims who didn’t make it. But even those mangled bodies could not prepare her. The left side of Wheldon’s head was gone. It was then she saw the blood and grey ooze on her shoulder, and she retched again.
Footsteps approached, shuffling in the red dirt. Worn leather boots entered her view and she stared up at the owner. The dogger stood before her, rifle in hand, his face a deathly shade of grey. He was holding his side, which was soaked in blood.
‘Gabe,’ she started, forgetting her own distress. ‘What . . .’
She never finished. Gabe grunted, swayed and toppled towards her. Courtney caught him, barely managing to hold the man up. Her professional instincts took over.
‘Let me see.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he grimaced, pushing her probing hands away. ‘Can’t do much with those hands cuffed anyway. Where’s the keys?’
She rummaged in Wheldon’s pocket and found them, swallowing down the bile. Gabe uncuffed her, his bloodied hands shaking. My God, had they been shaking like that when he fired?
‘We have to go. He’s out there, somewhere.’
‘Who?’ But she already knew. Chase. It had to be. ‘The others?’ She was almost afraid to ask.
‘Slowed them up a bit. Might be for good, not sure.’
She stared at him. His eyes were cold, unyielding. ‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing less than what they deserved,’ he said, wincing as he straightened. ‘What any pack of wild dogs deserves.’
His eyes fell on Parker’s body, sprawled in the dirt, and the coldness vanished. ‘Poor bastard,’ he breathed. ‘Should never have got him involved.’
‘It was his job to get involved. And it’s my job to make sure you’re okay.’
‘No time. Get in the ute. You better drive though.’
Courtney stared at the police sergeant’s body. ‘Gabe, we have to take him.’
A sigh, but no sign of surprise, as if he’d expected it. ‘Just be quick about it.’
He dropped down the tailgate while Courtney struggled to drag the dead man behind the ute. Somehow, they manhandled the body into the tray. Gabe grunted with each effort, but did not complain. She had to get him to a hospital, or just far enough away so she could stop and take a look at his wound properly.
Gabe slammed the tailgate closed, took one last look at the body crammed in amongst the gear and rolled down the canopy.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said, his hand returning to his side.
‘Oh, I don’t think so, dogger.’
Courtney spun around to see Chase emerge from the scrub. His shirt was stained with sweat and littered with fragments of dried wattle leaf, his breathing laboured. Clearly he had been running hard. And he still carried Gabe’s rifle.
‘Persistent little bugger, aren’t you?’ grimaced Gabe, slumping down to the ground and leaning against a tyre. Courtney could almost see the fight leave him. She went to him, lifted his shirt and gasped at the wound.
‘He needs a doctor!’ she screamed at Chase, then turned back to Gabe. ‘You silly old man, why the hell didn’t you let me look at it earlier?’
‘You sound just like Valerie,’ he said weakly. ‘You remind me of her. I think she would’ve liked you.’
‘No doctor, love,’ Chase said, coming over to the ute. He grabbed her half-empty water bottle and gulped it down. Courtney stayed by Gabe’s side, holding the wound and wiping the sweat from his brow. Gabe held the roo-shooter’s gaze.
‘Let her go, Chase,’ he said. ‘Please. You’re screwed anyway. Darren will have rung the cops by now. She’ll make no difference to the outcome.’
‘Maybe,’ Chase said. ‘Maybe not.’
‘Your mates are gone too.’
‘So I figured. How’d you manage it?’
Gabe shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter, but I doubt they’ll make it back here.’ He coughed, winced and closed his eyes. ‘Sorry, Courtney.’
The snapping of nearby branches and pounding footsteps made all three of them turn their heads. A figure broke through, staggering wildly, taking great gasping breaths of air. Chills ran through Courtney as she saw Constable Matthew Jefferson careen towards them. Even Chase took a step back.
‘Help me!’ the young man cried, and then a spasm shook his entire body, arching his back so far Courtney expected to hear the spine snap at any minute. She watched, horrified, as he toppled and convulsed on the ground. Blood ran from his mouth, and she suspected he had badly bitten his tongue.
His gargled, incoherent sounds set her teeth on edge. ‘My God, what the hell?’
‘Looks like strychnine,’ Chase said quietly. ‘I reckon somehow your old mate here gave him a good dose.’
She could not tear her gaze from Jefferson’s face. His eyes bulged, fish-like and unseeing, rolling in their sockets as his head tossed back and forth. An image of the open-mouthed laughing sideshow clowns flashed across her mind. She would never look at them the same way again – if she got out of here, that is.
‘Jesus Christ,’ Chase said, and shouldered the rifle.
‘No,’ Courtney yelled. ‘You can’t!’
Chase never took his eyes off Jefferson, still aiming at the hapless policeman. ‘He’s fucked, love. Look at him. There’s no antidote for strychnine, and we’re too far from anywhere even if there was. Kinder to put him down.’
‘But . . .’
‘But what?’ Chase retorted and fired. She screamed again and collapsed in a heap. The constable bucked and jerked as his nerves continued to react to the poison, but mercifully he was silent.
Courtney put her head in her hands and wept at the horror of it all. Parker, Wheldon, and now Jefferson. She wept for Gabe too, knowing he had caused the last two deaths and blamed himself for the first, and for her current situation. As if blaming himself for his wife’s death wasn’t enough.
‘Looks like I dodged a bullet,’ Chase said, still breathing hard. His eyes kept darting left to right, and he held a hand up, shielding them from the sun. Sweat positively streamed from the man.
‘Pity I didn’t,’ said Gabe weakly. He coughed, and Courtney saw how much that hurt. To her surprise, he began to chuckle.
‘What’s so fucking funny?’ Chase demanded.
‘Nothing. Everything.’
‘You won’t be laughing when you see what I’m going to do to your little girlfriend.’
Courtney paled and expected the dogger to threaten Chase, to rage at the man, but all he did was give him a knowing smirk.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure. You need her.’
‘What the hell for?’ Chase wiped his brow, blinked hard. He was changed, somehow, she could see it now. His cool cockiness gone, replaced by a nervous agitation she couldn’t put her finger on.
‘How you feeling, son?’ Gabe asked, struggling to his feet. Courtney helped him up. He threw one arm around her shoulder and leaned on her. ‘You’re sweating, hard. Sun seem a little too bright? Bet your heart’s racing too.’
Chase stared at him.
‘You need her,’ Gabe continued. ‘Because by my reckoning you’ve got maybe a couple of hours before you really start to feel it. You might get to Carnarvon by then. You might not. But it’d be better if a nurse drove you there.’
