The blast of the shotgun snaps Jed awake instantly. It has been a restless night and the only sleep he manages is short naps between periods of alertness while his senses track and catalogue the sounds of the night. The three quarter sleeping mat isn’t too bad to lie on and the ground is mostly eroded sand. He’s known worse nights. Thankfully, it hasn’t been cold. The light blanket is sufficient while the insect repellent is keeping any mosquitoes at bay. Alex had been far from impressed with the changed sleeping arrangements but from what he can tell, she has slept soundly—very soundly indeed, judging from her snores!
He rolls over and shakes her awake. He is rewarded by a grunt and a moan.
He shakes her again until she responds groggily, “What are you doing? Get off me!”
“Wake up Alex!” he whispers urgently. “Get up, now!”
Even in the early morning state between sleep and waking, she senses the urgency in his voice and sits up, throwing off the light blanket covering her. “What’s up?”
“Gun shot! Close! Let’s move!”
She needs no further urging and rolls into a standing position. “Deflate the mattress and roll it up,” Jed commands. “We have to move!”
She follows his instructions to the letter. He is impressed. Mattress and blanket are rolled together, secured with a strap and thrown over a shoulder along with Alex’s travel bag. She is ready to move in under a minute and follows him out of the small rock shelter, along the face of the rock and up a cleft to the top of the bluff. They creep along it until they are above the campsite, close enough to observe and hear what is happening. Jed dumps his bed roll and dives face down to crawl to the edge of the bluff. She copies him to crawl alongside and peer over the edge.
“Be careful,” he advises. “Keep down so we don’t silhouette ourselves against the skyline.”
“Been there and done that a few times! But thanks for the tip,” and means it.
“Sorry Alex, just habit!”
“Understood.” They both peer cautiously down to the campsite. They see a figure stomping angrily around the camp in the early morning light, then come back and kick Jed’s swag again and again and again. The figure goes to the other swag and kicks that repeatedly, then stops and scans all around, pausing to gaze up at the bluff.
“Don’t move!” Jed snaps. “Movement will give us away. Stay still!”
Alex holds her position, eyes just peering over the top of the bluff. The angle makes the tops of their heads appear like the natural curve of the rock surface. They watch the figure walk around the Landcruiser and then start opening the doors and looking inside.
“That’s our mate, Decker,” Jed says unnecessarily. “He doesn’t look happy. I could have sworn we were safe for a while yet!”
“It wouldn’t take much to trigger him,” Alex says. “Thank God we slept away from camp.”
Jed blesses the laws of chance as well. “Sometimes you make the right decision for no logical reason. Just gut instinct. Let’s see what happens next. If we have to move, grab the gear and head down the side of the bluff, behind that line of bushes and into the clump of trees over to our left.”
Alex turns her head slowly to sight the trees about three hundred metres away. “Got them!”
Jed likes this woman. No dramatics. Does what she is told in a crisis with no unnecessary questions. They watch Decker rummage through the Landcruiser until he steps back, holding something in his hand. They can see him inspect it and then throw it back into the car.
“The transmitter!” whisper Jed and Alex together.
“Now he knows we really know what he’s up to!” Jed groans.
“He’s going to be really pissed off!” Alex adds, “He’s into control and now he’s lost it.”
They watch as Decker storms back over to the swags, kicks them around and fires the second barrel into Jed’s swag.
“I don’t think he likes you,” Alex surmises.
Jed watches the display with increasing uneasiness. “He intended to take me out,” he says reflectively. “This just got personal!”
“Welcome to my world as it used to be. Sorry.”
Jed just nods and continues to watch. They see Decker unclip a radio, talk briefly into it and return it to his belt. He paces around some more and they can sense his agitation, even from a distance. They watch him roll up the swags and stuff them into the Landcruiser. He takes out one of the twenty litre drums of fuel, unscrews the cap and splashes the contents over and inside the vehicle, then stuffs the drum back inside and closes the doors except for one.
“This doesn’t look good,” Alex says.
Using a piece of bark to lift out a smouldering coal from the fire, Decker tosses it into the vehicle and steps back quickly. For a second or two nothing happens, then there is a mighty woof of flame as the fuel-soaked interior explodes. A slash of orange flame flashes briefly out the open door before the all-devouring, blazing inferno swallows the whole vehicle. Grey-black smoke billows thickly out of the open door as plastic, vinyl, cotton, canvas and other materials are consumed. The paintwork blisters into huge bubbles and peels off in scabs that writhe and twist from the torturous flames. They see Decker step back to watch the vehicle burn then turn slowly around to scan the surrounding country.
They watch, stunned, as the vehicle is devoured before their eyes.
Alex breaks the silence. “When you hired that Landcruiser,” she asks in a contemplative tone, “did you happen to tick the box for insurance?”
Jed can’t restrain himself. “That bloody sociopath just blew up our vehicle and you want to know if I took out insurance?”
“Just checking whether it’s coming out of my budget,” Alex adds with a deadpan expression.
Jed is about to fire back a sarcastic comment but sees the look in her eye. He finally recognises what she is doing—downplaying the trouble they are in. She knows exactly how bad the situation is. She’d make a good commander in the field. He still underestimates her and is guilty of judging her too fast. Now the shit has just hit the fan, big time, and if he is going to have company dealing with it, she is a good person to have alongside.
“I think I ticked the box,” he replies with a grim smile. “We’ll find out when I tell the rental company about this one! Then there’s the camping shop as well! Surely you had a contingency line in your budget?”
“Not that big!” She is relieved he can play the game. She half expected him to spit the dummy.
Maybe he’s starting to get me,
she decides hopefully.
“I should have asked for a down payment on my services in advance. I think my share of the budget just went up in smoke!”
She groans quietly at the pun and manages a gentle kick as they watch Decker start to walk toward the bluff, then stop and walk around the burning vehicle, first one way then the other.
“He’s lost control and doesn’t know what to do,” Alex says. He had a structured, well thought out plan but now it is in pieces. I used to have that effect on him because I’m so unpredictable. Lashing out at me was his only strategy for regaining control. It’ll take him a while to get it back together. But when he comes up with a new plan, he’ll follow it ruthlessly.”
“I don’t think that’s going to bode well for us. Let’s just wait a bit and see what develops. If he comes past that fallen tree, we follow the plan and run for it. We’ll be able to make the scrub line before he gets to the top of this bluff.”
Alex nods in agreement. They wait patiently and unmoving. Soon they hear the sound of approaching vehicles, which bounce into view between clumps of scrub and trees. Two vehicles stop behind the burning Landcruiser. They see a young white male jump out of the Nissan and run toward Decker. Two Aboriginals climb out of the other vehicle, and approach cautiously.
“That’s Jesse,” Alex points out. “An evil little bastard who should have been put down a long time ago!”
Jed notes the disgust in her voice. It doesn’t surprise him, given what she has told him so far. “Let’s see how this pans out.”
Alex and Jed watch Decker stride angrily toward the Nissan.
“They’ve done a runner! They’re on to us! Can’t be far though,” he snaps, opening the back door of the Nissan to retrieve his laptop. He also takes out a portable satellite dish and arranges it while the laptop boots up.
The Aboriginals climb out of their Troopie, leaning on the vehicle to watch the proceedings and burning vehicle with interest.
Decker fiddles with the keyboard and satellite dish. His agitation increases. Finally he swears, slams the laptop shut and turns to face the two trackers. “It’s time we put you boys to work! This is no holiday jaunt and we all have to do our bit.” Decker picks up his shotgun, breaks the action, extracts the two empty cases and inserts two more from his pocket. With a grim smile he walks over to them.
Joe and Brad look back at him. “No pigs ‘round here boss,” says the older man, just as Decker reverses the shotgun and slams the butt into his stomach.
He doubles up with a grunt and drops to the ground, boots kicking up dust as he writhes in pain and shock. Decker turns slightly to the right and slams the butt up into the younger man’s jaw, flinging him back against the Troopie. He hangs against the side of the vehicle for a few seconds and then slumps to the ground, screaming in pain through his broken jaw.
Decker steps over him with his boots on either side of his moaning body, slings his shotgun over his shoulder and extracts some plastic ties from his pocket. He loops one around each of his wrists. Decker joins them together with another tie, handcuffing his hands behind his back. He does the same with his feet but with enough slack that he can shuffle along when needed. He leaves him groaning on the ground and walks back over to the older man.
“Jeez Pa, you slammed ’em both fuck’n good! They didn’t even see it coming!” Jesse exclaims admiringly.
Decker rolls the older man over onto his back, unslings the shotgun and points it into his face. “Now Joe me boy, we need to have a chat. Are you listening?”
Alex and Jed continue to watch, silent and unmoving.
Joe, struggling for breath, opens his eyes to look up at Decker as he taps him on the nose with the barrels of the shotgun. “Things have changed around here,” Decker explains in a conversational tone. “I need you to do some tracking for me. I was told you were good at tracking. Can you track animals? People?” He looks down at Joe and waits.
Joe is tough, but the blow to the stomach has knocked the wind out of him. His breathing is slowly returning to normal but he appears stunned and disoriented. He nods.
“That’s good,” Decker replies. “I need you to track some people, a man and a woman. They were here but they’ve gone off walkabout somewhere. I need you to find them Joe.” Decker’s voice is calm, condescending and, most of all, threatening. Joe is looking into his eyes. “I have great faith in you Joe but I have to let you know that if you don’t find them, your little brother over there is done for. I’ll do him slowly, maybe a gut-shot or both his knees, and leave him for the pigs.” Decker emphasises his point by jabbing Joe in the stomach with the barrels. “I’ll be fair though,” he continues, as he looks down at Joe with black, emotionless eyes. “If you can’t do it, just tell me now and I’ll finish you both with a head shot. Quick and easy! If you stuff me around, there’ll be hell to pay!”
Joe is bush smart. He takes Decker’s words in as he regains control of his breathing. Jed and Alex can sense him sizing up the situation, just as they are. Decker is a killer. He is going to kill both Jed and Alex. Then he will kill Joe and his brother when the right time comes. Buying time is Joe’s only option. Joe nods again.
“That’s good Joe,” Decker acknowledges, his anxiety decreasing as he gets things under control again. “I thought you would be reasonable. Maybe all this will work out alright for you and your little brother.” Decker’s smile offers no comfort to anyone.
Joe rolls up onto his knees and staggers to his feet, still wobbly after the blow to his body. He looks over at Brad moaning on the ground and exchanges brief, meaningful eye contact. Even in their pain and shock, there are thousands of years of communication in their glance. They are hunters and words are unnecessary.
Alex contemplates the scene, recalling brutal memories from a past she thought was long gone. “What do you make of all that?”
Jed is silent for a few seconds before responding. “The man’s a bastard—a real psycho! He’s out to kill you and me. He wanted me out of the way first to have some time with you. He probably wants what might be on the plane as a bonus on top of his revenge. He’ll also kill those two Aboriginals when the time suits him. The son is just as bad by the look of him.”
Jed falls silent, thinking, while Alex waits.
“He brought the Aboriginals along for a reason. But what reason Alex? He tried to do something with the laptop and satellite dish, but it didn’t seem to work. I’m thinking he has another tracking device that either isn’t working or he can’t turn it on. The Aboriginals are back up in case something went wrong with his plan, which it has. Whatever that tracking device is, he expected it to work even though he just burnt everything we had.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Alex asks.
Jed stares at her with a contemplative expression. “He intended to take me out. Painfully! That’s personal. We can go to war Alex. Do you want to be part of it?” He’s made a decision and is prepared to commit his trust to her.
“I want this nightmare to end,” Alex replies. “I want to get on with my life without the threat of that bastard always in the background.”
Jed nods, rolls slightly onto his side to free his right arm and reaches across, offering her his hand. She accepts it and they shake as equals. He can feel the firmness of her grip. It conveys confidence and commitment.
Jed releases his grip still feeling Alex’s lingering touch, like the burning of dry ice on the skin. Reaching down to the scabbard holding his knife, he unclips a small pouch and gives Alex a container of matches. “I want you to head about a click west, behind the scrub line, with the sun directly behind you. That’s about a fifteen minute walk, less if you move faster. Light a fire and make smoke—not a lot, just a bit, as if we were being careless. Feed it so it’ll burn for a while, toss on a bit of green stuff to keep the smoke going, then head over to that little sharp pointed bluff and wait for me. Don’t stay at the fire for more than ten minutes.”
The situation isn’t remotely funny, but Alex still has to ask with just a hint of a smile, “You mean head for the hill that looks like a nipple?”
“That very one!” The description is spot on, but Jed hadn’t dared use it.
“What will
you
be doing?”
“Evening up the odds.”
Alex doesn’t ask any more pointless questions. She looks Jed in the eyes, sees the decisiveness there and nods, wriggling backward down the sloping rock. She slings her bed roll and bag over her shoulder and jogs toward the scrub line. Jed notes she grabbed the roll without being told and knows she is a useful ally.
Alex drops down to ground level. Down here things don’t look quite the same. The nipple-topped hill is hidden by the trees and scrub. She takes a bearing from the sun and notes it should be about a right angle to her right shoulder. She works her way through the country, trotting in the clear patches spotted with tussock, stepping carefully where the scrub has collapsed to lie horizontal across the ground. Through gaps in the scrub she catches glimpses of the nipple off her right shoulder, confirming she is heading in the right direction. She judges the thousand metres off her watch and can just see the top of the bluff where she lay alongside Jed only a short time ago.
She finds a suitable site, scrapes a shallow depression with her hands to keep the fire tight and gathers kindling—twigs, leaves, pieces of bark and small branches and sets them in a pile. She then gathers bigger dry branches, breaks them into smaller pieces and snaps off a collection of greenery from the shrubs and stunted trees. The first match splutters out before she can light the kindling, the second almost does it but can’t quite defeat the slight early morning dampness. The third match finally gives birth to a slowly growing bed of flame, consuming the kindling and creating the foundation for a good, hot fire.
It doesn’t take long for a bed of coals to develop. She throws on some bigger branches, breaking them first by leaning them against a fallen log and jumping on them. Finally, she drags across a small stump, laying on some branches of greenery. Grey smoke billows into the air as she feeds the fire with more dry timber.
She looks at her watch. Ten minutes has passed. One last pile of greenery mixed with more dry timber and the smoke is billowing into the air, rising straight up in the morning stillness, a bit more than intended but too bad. Satisfied with her work, she scans around to catch sight of the nipple, checks the direction against the sun and heads toward it.