Blood Junction (26 page)

He hunched there for quite a while, trying to ignore the increasing pain. Maybe an hour passed, but in the silence it felt
like half the night. He decided to settle where he was, until dawn, and then move. If he set off not knowing where he was
going, he might—

Something brushed his upper arm and he jerked wildly to one side.

“It’s only me,” said India. “Are you all right?”

He swallowed the yell that had formed in his throat.

“I … um, I guess.” His voice was strangled.

“I’ve thrown them off your track for a bit.”

“Ah,” he managed.

“Are you okay to keep moving?”

“Sure.”

She touched him again. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

Mikey followed India through the thick dark gloom. She kept angling to the right, scooping around trees and bushes, heading
downhill all the time until they reached the bottom of a valley, where she immediately increased her pace. They followed a
wild animal track, bordered with saltbush and rocks and stones, for some time. He stumbled and lurched behind her, and found
himself resenting his clumsiness. India hadn’t tripped or faltered once.

They reached the end of the valley. Mikey looked upwards and at the steep cliff ahead, and groaned. He felt exhausted. In
need of a hot bath, antiseptic, a stiff drink, a massage, cool sheets, a soft pillow …

The blanket of clouds parted for a brief moment, and the bush blazed silver. Mikey reeled in his tracks.

In front of him was a naked woman. Her head was held high, and her back and shoulders were straight, the dip above her buttocks
pronounced. She had long muscular thighs and her calves curved to narrow ankles. She made no sound as she moved.

Cloud folded over the moon.

Mikey followed the gleaming shadow that was India until they reached the car.

D
O YOU NORMALLY STRIP IN TIMES OF STRESS
?”
HE ASKED
lightly as he drove.

India was curled on the passenger seat. She was wearing his shirt. It came down to her knees.

“Only when necessary.” She sounded distant and distracted.

“Well, thank you. Without you I’d still be sitting frozen solid on that hilltop. Scared shitless I was lost forever.”

She didn’t respond.

“How in the hell did you divert them? And what about that bloody dog?”

“I picked up a few survival skills in the bush.”

“Did you do a course or something?”

“Just last week’s sojourn.” Her face was turned to the window.

“You learned all that in a week?”

“I had a good teacher.”

India was staring outside, as though she wished she were somewhere else. Mikey decided to leave her be.

When they got to Whitelaw’s all he wanted to do was sleep.

“No,” said India. She marched him into the bathroom, passed him a towel. “Get undressed.” She started to run the bath, then
opened the cabinet and pulled out a pack of cotton wool, sticking plaster, bandages and a bottle of Dettol, put them on the
loo cistern. She poured half the bottle of Dettol into the bath, turning it cloudy.

“I’ll be fine,” he protested.

“We’ll see about that after you’ve bathed.” She glanced at her watch. “You’ve ten minutes. Then I’m coming in.”

“Yes, commandant,” he said wearily.

The water was hot and he had to grit his teeth as he slid down until he was immersed up to his chin. He couldn’t see the damage
on his shoulder or neck, but he could make out two punctures behind his knee, the way the skin was already turning dark purple
from the pressure of those massive jaws. He exhaled and felt the heat penetrate his aching muscles. He leaned back and closed
his eyes.

What seemed seconds later, India knocked on the door, demanded he sit on the loo seat. Towel intact, please. Feeling oddly
vulnerable, he sat.

“Ready,” he called, and gritted his teeth once more when she stepped inside, looking determined.

“When did you last have a tetanus shot?”

“Recently.”

“How recently?”

“Recently enough, thank you.”

He stared at the floor as she gently pushed his ponytail aside. Heard her hiss between her teeth. “This might hurt,” she warned.

It did.

But he refused to make a sound.

With infinite care, India disinfected and bandaged each of his wounds, made him swallow two Panadol. When she’d finished,
she said, “Look at me.”

He raised his head. Slowly, she lowered her face to his, and pressed a kiss against his mouth.

“That’s for being so brave,” she said, and smiled.

He found himself grinning inanely as he headed for bed.

Mikey slept like the dead. Immobile. Comatose.

In the first instant when he awoke he wondered if he’d dreamed the past night, but then the pain in his shoulder and neck
entered his consciousness. He struggled up and went to wash. In the bathroom he inspected India’s first aid, downed some more
Panadol and got dressed. He headed for the kitchen and coffee and toast.

India was struggling to open a jar of apricot jam. Her lips were compressed and her knuckles stood out white.

She thrust the jar at him.

“Having trouble opening it, India?”

She gave a curt nod.

“Not strong enough to open it by yourself?”

Another nod.

“Say: ‘Please, Mikey, could you help me open my jar of apricot jam?’”

She sent him a look that could have stopped an elephant in its tracks. “Say: ‘Please, Mikey, don’t be a shithead,’” she said.

He couldn’t help grinning. She may have resembled an untouchable wraith in the bush last night, kissed him like an angel,
but deep down she was the same old India. Spiky and defensive.

He took the jar of apricot jam and with a single twist snapped it open. “Happy Christmas, India.”

At eleven o’clock Mickey was basting the turkey.

“If Santa could bring you anything right now,” he said to India, “what would you like?”

“A decent potato peeler.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. You need more practice, that’s all.” He slid the turkey back into the oven.

“Please, Santa, make all potatoes skinless from tomorrow.”

“I’ve never had a Chrissy pressie,” said Polly wistfully. She was swinging her legs on the divan as she watched them.

“What’s on the kitchen table, then?” Mikey said.

Polly shoved her hands beneath her thighs. “Pressies.”

“Whose are they?” asked Mikey.

“Don’t know.”

“Hadn’t you better look?”

Polly sidled up to the three gift-wrapped presents.

“Can you read out what’s on their labels?” said India.

Hesitantly, Polly peered at the first. Her face split into a smile. “It says Polly!”

“And the others?”

“Another one for me! And one for Jed! Can I open them?”

“Only yours. Jed gets his when Mikey takes him his Christmas lunch.”

“What’s Jed’s pressie?”

“A cake with a file in it.”

The following evening, Mikey was sprawled on the grass with India and Polly at back of Whitelaw’s house watching the sun set.
It was ten past seven when his mobile rang.

“It’s Sam.”

Mikey stiffened. “So what’s up?”

“I want to meet.”

“Give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”

“Martin Place. Outside the post office. Eleven tomorrow.”

Mikey’s brain raced. “It’s going to take me longer than that to get to Sydney. Can we make it Wednesday?”

“Not Wednesday.”

“Thursday then.”

“That’s fine.”

“Can you bring the—”

“No. I’m not bringing anything.”

“That’s okay.” Mikey took a breath. “How will I know you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll know you.”

“Okay, I’ll be—” he started to say, but Sam had gone.

“I bet Sam’s got Peter Ross’s disc,” said India. “My guess is Peter sent it to him.”

“Sam never said anything about a disc. Just some files he found.”

“I reckon they’re computer files.”

“I wish I recognized his voice,” said Mikey. “He says he knows me but I don’t know who the hell he is.”

“Who’s Sam?” asked Polly around a mouthful of turkey and honey-mustard marinade.

“A friend,” said India.

Mikey had barbecued some leftover turkey and corn on the cob, and she’d eaten so much her stomach felt like a bowling ball.
India found it hard to believe it was Boxing Day. Even harder was the sensation of peace and contentment. It may have been
one of the most unorthodox Christmases she had ever experienced, but it was also unique. It was the first one she’d spent
not being pressured to be someone she wasn’t.

“You like India, don’t you?” said Polly to Mikey after a while.

He raised his head to stare into the sky. India found herself holding her breath.

“Not always,” he said finally.

“Me neither,” agreed Polly.

India startled them by giving a bark of laughter. “Thanks, guys!”