Blood & Dust (19 page)

Kevin shouts Meg's name. Her eyes flicker open. 'What?' she asks dreamily.

'What the hell are you doing? With her?'

'What you asking me for? It's your dick she's sucking.'

He looks down, aware of his nakedness, of his aching erection and the touch of lips and tongue,
wet warmth sliding down the shaft, fingernails stroking his thighs and balls.

Mira laughs up at him. 'Got something for me, Grease Monkey?' Her fingers pump his shaft, nails
bright scarlet against his flesh. Before he can protest, he comes, spraying red with the pressure of
a burst fire hose. Mira laughs again, lapping up the flow as it splashes across her face and
breasts.

'Come for me,
Liebchen
, that's the way,' she cackles. 'Give me all you've got.'

Kevin hauls her to her feet, her skin slippery under the bloody shower, and throws her face-first
against the wall of the dorm so hard it shakes. He parts her legs as blood streams down her back and
across her buttocks. Above their heads, a red neon horseshoe rattles against the timber. It winks on
and off like a cheap 'Open' sign.

He shoves himself into her. He wants to hear her scream, but all she does is laugh.

Kevin woke, breathless. A heavy bass beat filled his ears. He stared around the
darkened room, his eyes picking out the glow of sunlight through the cracked weatherboards, the
floating dust, the bodies of his companions sprawled in the one main room of the cottage.

He stared, surprised not to see bloody handprints on the wall where he'd fucked Mira in his
dream. He swallowed hard. Just a nightmare, a terrible bloody nightmare. The bass rhythm faded.

Kala stared at him, her eyes a feral red. 'What is it?'

'Bad dream,' he said. 'That's all.'

'A dream? Or something in your lifestream - a memory?'

'A nightmare, actually.'

She crawled across to where he lay. She was wearing just a singlet and knickers. 'What did you
see?'

He blushed. 'My girlfriend.'

'And what was happening?'

'I'd rather not say.'

'Was she the only person in it? This is important, Kevvie. You need to be straight with me.'

'No,' he conceded, 'Mira was there, too.'

'Tai: you hear that?' Kala nudged the biker, then shook his shoulder until he stopped batting at
her and actually opened his eyes. 'I think the bloodhag's been sending to Kev.'

'What?' Taipan looked at Kevin, bleary-eyed.

'Kevin dreamed about Mira.'

'Now that's some kinda wet dream. So where you seen that bitch before, fella?'

'Just at the farm. The Crawfords' farm. During the attack.'

Taipan got up, and faster than fast, a knife appeared in his hand, broad bladed and curved to a
point. A gutting knife. 'We all saw her there, fella, but you're the only one gettin' hot and sweaty
'bout her.'

'It was a nightmare, that's all.'

'We don't dream, fella. All you got in ya head is what you put there. Well, you and me, right?
And I sure as shit ain't had that bitch's fangs in me. So tell me again, how come you've got her in
ya noggin'?'

'How would I know?' Kevin looked around: the door? A window? Would he last longer outside in the
sun than he would in here? The myxos would hunt him down, hunt him down and drag him back to Taipan
and that'd be that.

Kala stood between Kevin and Taipan. 'Leave it alone, Tai. He's only a pup. He could see anything
in the blood and not even know what it is.'

'I'm askin' the fella some questions here, Kay. Keep ya nose out of it.'

'What's important isn't how he came to see it, but what he saw. If Mira knows where we are. So
Kevvie, what was it like? Did the dream seem real?'

'Pretty fuckin' real.'

'And you're sure it was a dream? Not just a memory from before?'

'No, it was definitely a dream.'

Kala grabbed Kevin's shoulders, her voice urgent. 'What did Mira say? What happened?'

'I don't remember, really.'

Taipan pointed his knife at Kevin. 'What did you tell that bitch 'bout us?'

'Nothin'. Nothin' at all.'

'Where were ya - in ya dream?'

'Here, I think. There was-'

Taipan swore, started kicking the people around him. 'Get up. We gotta get movin'.' He stared at
Kala. 'I reckon they know we're here, all right.'

'Fuck, Tai,' she said. 'It's daylight.'

'Don't matter, we gotta run.'

'It's broad fucking daylight.' She began to pull her jeans on.

Taipan grabbed her by the arm and shook her so hard she let her pants go. They bunched around her
knees. She screamed at him and he released her. Swearing, she reefed her jeans back up. The stud
clicked.

'We hafta get outta here, Kay. You and Penny get up to the house and find us some wheels. Give
Budgie's mob a shout on the way past, too.'

The women left and, shortly after, Budgie's mob crammed in with them.

Time was measured in heart beats, trickling sweat, the shuffle of boots and squeak of
floorboards. Reg clicked the safety of his submachine gun on and off, on and off. 'You wanna send
the myxos off, Tai?'

'Let's give them girls a few more minutes.'

'What about him?' Reg asked, pointing the gun at Kevin.

'I'm thinkin' 'bout that.'

The Night Riders kept watch, the silence painful, the tension claustrophobic as they waited. And
waited.

Kevin, unarmed and ostracised, shrank back against one wall and wished for it to be over.

Finally:

'Car coming,' Budgie said, his voice a whip crack.

'Kala,' Taipan said. 'About bloody time.'

'There's something else,' Reg said, looking toward the ceiling.

Kevin concentrated, heard the rhythm from his dream, low and deep. Looked up, as though he could
see the helicopter through the weatherboards and iron.

'This is gonna be close,' Taipan muttered as he opened the front door and stepped away from the
scorching ray of sunshine that splashed on the floor.

A truck chugged up. Wide timber rails made a cage of the back with a loosely tied canvas
tarpaulin for a roof. It stank of cow shit. Penny opened the rear gate. It banged against the sides
as the truck started to reverse. Beep, beep, beep. Like an alarm clock going off.

'Go,' Taipan shouted, and the gang crowded around the door. The truck stopped and Penny lowered a
plank as a make-shift ramp.

Reg, swearing, wheeled his bike past Kevin.

A shadow passed over them, and it sounded as if they were being run over by a slasher, the
helicopter's noise battering the cottage as it turned to face them.

'Down,' Taipan yelled.

A whoosh. The world exploded.

Deaf. Blind. Confused. Kevin tried to stand and couldn't, lurching across the floor
like a drunk lizard. Heat washed over him. He rolled, crawled, not even sure what direction he was
going. Hands hauled him up and he couldn't resist; just stared around at the blurred, smoke-screened
world, his hearing filled with the crackle of flames, the mechanical clatter of automatic weapons.

'Hang on!' someone shouted. He reflexively closed his hands into fists, grasping leather in his
hands. The reek of ash and blood filled his nostrils. Sunshine blazed. He shrank away, insecure on
the saddle, and the rider swore at him.

The bike jerked into motion, dust flying around them, the thumping of the chopper like being in a
tin drum being beaten with sticks. There was another long burst of automatic fire, deeper than the
high-pitched stutter of the Night Riders' weapons. The gun sounded as if it could chew through
concrete.

The bike bucked through scrub, shaking Kevin as though he was a sack of potatoes. Sunlight
strobed through leaves. The helicopter moved off behind them, trailing gunfire. Kevin clung like a
koala to its mother in the midst of a cyclone. The path smoothed out, the trees gave way to blue
sky. The sun cooked him inside his clothes. He shut his eyes against the heat and the pain, let the
world shudder by, a strange and deadly thing. Darkness finally closed around them. It was still
daytime, but they were out of the sun. Someone prised Kevin's grip loose. He fell helplessly,
rocking the bike and making the rider curse. His eyes stung painfully, as though they'd been sprayed
with pepper.

'Fuck,' he croaked.

Something moved nearby. Taipan, blurry through tears, carrying something. Hot flesh hit Kevin's
face. He grabbed it with both hands. Didn't think. No time for thinking. Just bit down and drank and
drank. Something mewed like a kitten. Just one soft cry. He knew, then, but that part of him was
submerged under desperate red need. He would cry later. Now, he could only feed.

'See, fella,' Taipan said, sitting back against the wall of the garage, his voice coming from a
million years away, 'you ain't that different.'

Late afternoon sun was probing at the curtains when Kevin came to. He lay on a
leather couch, the room lit by the blue-grey flicker of a television with the volume turned down to
a murmur. Taipan drank beer and smoked. The biker had showered and changed clothes, but still wore
his tattered jacket. His helmet sat on a nearby table, a silver dent showing where a bullet had
scored one side.

The memories of the young girl Kevin had fed on - had
consumed
- followed him out of
sleep.

Nicola, stirred by the noise of a motorcycle, is on her way to the bathroom; no
Saturday morning sleep-in for a farm girl, not even a teenager who needs her beauty sleep, not when
there are horses to feed and groom, chores to be done, assignments to get started, even this early
in the term. Her life totally sucks. She's on her way to the bathroom, just like any other day
except she's pissed at her father for leaving her behind, when she hears a sound from the kitchen
where her mother's preparing round two of breakfast. There's a noise from the kitchen that doesn't
sound right. Nicola, bleary and rubbing at her eyes, walks down the hall and asks her mum if
everything's okay but quickly realises it isn't, because an Abo is fucking her mother on the table.
Fucking her, but why is there so much blood? He drags Nicola, screeching and clawing, through the
house and throws her down beside a dead white guy and the dead guy wakes up and…

Nicola. Age 15, turning legal in two months and three days, not that she was counting. Liked cats
and horses, was extremely good at Geography and English but was bitter that her Maths and Science
weren't good enough to study as a veterinarian. A bit whiney, Nicola: Why do I need chemistry to
look after animals, Mum? I don't understand.

Kevin fought free of the lifestream's last tentacle, like dragging himself out of a
vat of molasses. 'Where are we?' he asked, summoning the energy to sit up.

'You know as good as me,' Taipan said, not even bothering to look at him.

And he did. A horse stud on the fringe of Mt Morgan. Nicola was dating one of the hands, a local
boy. He was as thick as two planks but knew all about handling horses - horses and Nicola.

'What did you do with her?' Kevin asked.

'Put her in with her mother. Dad's away in Rocky lookin' at nags. Be home late tonight or
tomorra, but us fellas'll be long gone by then. Still, don't go answerin' no phones, eh.'

'The girl was upset that she couldn't go, too,' Kevin mumbled to himself as the emotions
resurfaced. Tears pricked his eyes. 'She had an assignment to do. On Iraq.'

'You look like Baghdad, fella,' Taipan said.

'I feel like it. Fuck, my leg's sore.' Kevin looked down and gasped. 'Fuck - me leg!'

His left leg was missing from a couple of inches just below the knee. Nothing but a stump, the
pink flesh mottled and lumpy. His left hand was a mess, too, black and red and filled with needles,
and now his leg was throbbing - his leg, his hand, his ribs.

'Don't panic,' Taipan said. 'It'll grow back. Like them geckoes, us mob.'

'Jesus fucking Christ, Tai- I've lost my leg!'

Taipan stared at the television. 'You're lucky that's all it was.'

They were alone, Kevin realised. 'Where are the others?'

Taipan shook his head, swigged his beer, kept his eyes on the screen. 'I dunno where none of them
are. That Kala, she maybe all right. I feel her sometimes. But maybe it's just a ghost, like that
missin' foot of yours.'

'Kala. So it's just us?'

'Great, eh.' Taipan sipped on his beer. 'You shoulda told us about Mira's little fuck fest.'

'I couldn't-'

'My fault. I get it. Too busy on the warpath to see what's in fronta me face.'

'How do you know about Mira and me?'

'I had a taste while you was sleepin' it off. Seen a bunch of stuff. Young Nic there. The
bloodhag. Ya dad. Ya girl. It ain't easy, eh - havin' to give it all up for life on the road.'

'You make it sound like it was a choice. Hang on, you had a what?'

'Till we get to Mother's, you need to stick close to me. Or at least, close to this. Okay?'
Taipan pulled his necklace out from his shirt, a disc with what looked like canine teeth on either
side. The battered medallion had a misshapen silver oval set in the centre of a five-pointed star
inscribed on the disc.

'Lucky for us, that farmer has a good workshop. I already took some of ya juice to muddy the
water a bit. I jigged this best I could to keep you off their radar. Course, I mighta just stuffed
it up for both'a us, me not bein' up with Mother's kadaicha and all that. But I figure your trace
will be weaker, seein' as how it's so old and the hag only got the one good tumble with you. This
should fritz her bloodlink good enough till we can get to the nest and Mother can knock you up
somethin' better.'

'So how close is
close
?'

'This is good. Touchin' is better. But there'll be enough'a that on the bike.' Taipan drained his
stubby and stood.

'And you did all that while I sleeping? Had a good swallow, took a gander through my life, stole
some blood.'

Taipan over him in the servo.