Dark Horse (17 page)

S
id’s Gap acted like a funnel. Slipping ground inching into it. The chimney was down. The section of hut below it, which Brody had been trapped in, had pancaked flat, and was metres away from where it had been only minutes before. He may not have died if he’d been caught, not straight away – the tin might have shielded him from the stones, he might have found a pocket of space in the debris, the beam might have slipped the right way, freeing his foot, not crushing it, and he may have been able to dig his way out of the sludge. Chances were, though, he would have been buried alive, and died.

Sarah sat with her knees up. She looked at the flattened building. Brody didn’t need to take in the scene. He was lying beside her. He reached out and felt for her. His fingers were caked with blood from clawing at the timber beam. She looked at his other cuts and grazes, and at his sunken stomach and jutting ribcage, the lower-than-ever waistband of his pants, hipbones protruding.

‘Stay here if you like, I’m going to unsaddle Tansy.’

‘Don’t go.’ His voice was raspy. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’

‘I’m only going to the shed.’

He squinted in the glare of the clouds and sky and wiped the tears from where they’d run down the sides of his face. ‘You saved my life.’

‘Don’t sound too surprised.’

‘Did you see them?’

‘They’re coming. Around dark I reckon. If a helicopter doesn’t drop them in earlier.’

‘Did they see you?’

‘I went down to the creek. I told them you were trapped.’

‘You talked to them?’

‘Across Spinners Creek, and near the plateau.’

He shielded his eyes to try and see her face, and he searched her expression. ‘They let you come?’

‘Not really.’

He went to say more but she got to her feet.

‘Brody suits you much better than Heath by the way.’

Sarah left him to come to terms with things on his own. She rubbed her mare down. She applied the pinch test to the skin under Tansy’s neck, checking for dehydration. The skin sprung back. Sarah checked her horse’s wounds. She cleaned them with warm water from the kettle and patted them dry.

Brody’s limp was acute. He hobbled into the shed and sat on the van step. He was dirt-covered, bloodied and dull-eyed with shock. His pants were torn. He took off his only boot and held it in his hands, staring at it, as though the single shoe summed it all up perfectly. He placed the boot down beside the step.

Sarah removed Tansy’s bridle and wiped down her horse’s head and neck.

‘I’m not sure if any of the ground around here is safe,’ she called across to him.

‘I’ll go out and have a look. In a minute.’

She doubted he could make it out and across to see the slip, not without her help. He seemed to realise this too; he rubbed his face and pulled down his cheeks with hopelessness.

Sarah went out to assess the slip herself. The upper half of the camping ground was level. For the shed to start sliding down towards Sid’s Gap it would take a shifting of more than the topsoil, the mountaintop itself would have to move and tilt. This was not without possibility, after rafting over muddy waves while thousands of metres above sea level, Sarah wasn’t going to rule anything out. If such an event were to happen though, nowhere on the mountain would be safe.

Sarah picked a bucket of fresh grass for Tansy. The wind was ferocious. She kept glancing around and stayed beside the toilet block for cover. That dancing laser dot between Tansy’s ears wasn’t something Sarah would forget in a hurry.

Tending to her horse was important, but it was also what Sarah did to delay that moment of having to sit down with Brody. Whatever he had to say, it wasn’t going to be good.

Sarah pulled up a chair beside him. He hadn’t moved from the van step.

‘As far as I can see, the ground is going to hold all right.’

‘I have no idea what to do,’ he admitted. ‘What did they say to you?’

‘They wanted to know where you were.’

‘How many are there?’

Sarah thought back. ‘Six, from what I saw. Four followed me up the mountain, and two were down at the creek. There were more across the other side though, probably another . . . three or four. Is that a lot?’

‘More than a traffic warden.’

‘Should I get you some clean clothes and light the fire?’

‘No. Did they see you at my car?’

‘I don’t think so. The chopper flew over your car though. They know where it is. The four that followed me would have come right past it. I came up the trappers track. That’s how I got back. They had the road blocked.’

‘You rode Tansy up the trappers track?’ He looked over at Tansy. ‘She did that?’

‘Most horses couldn’t.’

‘She went around that ledge?’

Sarah nodded. ‘The cops couldn’t work it out. I think they must be going back down and coming up the road. They might struggle to get here before dark.’

‘You sure they didn’t see you at my car?’

‘They might have. I was there a while. I found the camera, the one you’d hidden in the back. The pictures are of her, aren’t they?’

He wet his lips.

‘It’s why you came up here.’

‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’

‘I think it does.’

He shrugged.

‘Did you accidentally leave it behind and have to come back for it?’

‘No. I didn’t know about the pictures. They were meant to be a surprise. She’d spent the morning before in the bush with me. She thought I’d been collecting all my cams.’

‘What made you come and get it?’

‘She heard about the storm, and rang to check I had taken it.’ He stared out in front of him. ‘I did try and tell her that it was more risky driving up here in that weather than what it was to leave it there.’

‘Did you look at the pictures?’

‘I was in too much of a hurry. I just grabbed it, stuffed it in the back, and . . .’ he blinked with the memory, ‘snapped the key off in the lock, and then got bogged for good measure.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed, as though forcing the recollection back. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters.’

‘I took the cam.’

He lowered his hand and looked at her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I took it. I put it in my backpack.’

Brody scanned the ground around them, looking for the backpack, then it dawned on him and his gaze swung toward the hut.

‘I know the hurt pictures like that cause,’ she said. ‘I probably did it more for your brother than for you. I wouldn’t wish those kinds of photos on anyone. I heard the helicopter after that. I thought it was up here. I could imagine them being right here, looking through the van, around the shed, not knowing you were down in the hut, not able to hear you, and then getting back in the helicopter and flying away . . . They wouldn’t listen to me though. All they were worried about was you, but they wouldn’t listen to me telling them to save you.’

He didn’t speak for a while; when he did, what he said was the last thing Sarah would have imagined him saying. ‘Let’s have a drink. Let’s finish the whiskey.’

‘I just ran from a swat team. I had a sniper rifle aimed at me. I had a helicopter chase me. And that’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?’

‘They’re coming, Sarah. It’s over.’

He gave her a look that said Sid had won, the mountain had, neither one of them had ever had a chance; they should have never set out up the mountain on Christmas morning.

‘We’re not trapped anymore, we’re caught.’

H
e took the whiskey bottle from the cupboard where he’d stored it, tipped and swirled the alcohol inside, judging how much there was, and he sat down at the table, put a glass in front of himself and pushed one across to Sarah. He smiled sadly at her as she sat down, poured a good few fingers into her glass.

‘It’s safer in the van than wandering around outside. They can’t take pot shots at us in here. I’m not really sure how they’re going to react after you rode away. I’ve probably made it very bad for you. I would apologise, you don’t like that though, and I don’t blame you, only so many times I can say I’m sorry.’

Sarah took her glass from him.

‘Thank you again for saving my life. I was so sure I was going to die. It seemed like fate – stuck like that. But you came back. You pushed your horse for me, and you pushed yourself. I meant it when I said I’ll never forget it. I can organise land for Tansy. We didn’t shake on that but I’ll stand by it.’

Some residual dust from the hut tickled his throat and he coughed. He coughed harder. He put his glass of whiskey down and slid along the seat, hauled himself up and over to the sink, and drank from a water bottle. He held the water bottle to his chest.

‘I believe you,’ she said.

He took another sip of water. She lifted his whiskey to him. He coughed again and waved it away, drank the water instead. She picked up her own glass. The alcohol slid down Sarah’s throat. A tonic. Nothing else would have worked at restoring her spirit quicker. She breathed in and licked the whiskey from her lips.

Brody took the head torch from around his neck and put it on the bench. ‘While I was stuck I thought of us and the things we’d talked about.’

‘I thought about us while I was riding.’

She poured herself another shot. She topped up his untouched drink and tried again to pass it to him. He shook his head. She downed her second shot. Because the van windows were darkly tinted they’d left the door ajar as a source of clean light. A cheery strip of warm afternoon sunlight angled in. The gale was blowing the last of the unseasonable weather away. Brody was wearing her watch. He checked the time.

‘Can I keep this?’

‘Sure. What time is it?’

‘Five.’

‘I was gone that long?’

‘Felt twice as long.’

Sarah turned in her seat to watch him. Muscles either side of her spine cramped, the pain caught her by surprise and she drew a sharp breath. She eased around into a sideways position, dragged the bottle closer. She poured a third shot. He began unbuttoning his cargos, sliding them down, underwear too.

‘I probably should take this chance to get changed and cleaned up,’ he explained.

He sat on the end of the bed and pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a clean shirt. He left the shirt unbuttoned, and used the handles of the cupboards to lift himself up, used the bench to support himself as he walked back to the sink. Any weight on his leg was causing him pain, agony even. Sarah could see now, with his long pants removed, that his left knee was swollen to twice the size of the other and that his left ankle was also inflamed, due to the beam.

‘Heatherton. I think I do know your mum and dad.’

‘I thought you might.’ He wet his hands with the water from the bottle and poured water onto his face, rubbed it clean. His expression was soft and pained when he turned back around. ‘I’ve got a feeling Jamie and Kirsty brought their daughter on one of your trail rides.’

‘Mia, yes, I saw her name on a present in your car. I thought then I remembered them. Sweet little girl.’ Sarah finished her third glass. She reached again for the bottle, and noticed that her hand hung a moment in the air before closing around the neck of the whiskey.

Brody sat down and settled in opposite her. ‘It’s probably affecting you more because you’ve been a couple of days dry.’

‘Yes,’ she conceded after some time.

‘You did good, for cold turkey.’

‘Thank you.’ Her cheeks flushed hot.

Giving her some space to deal with her discomfort, he looked down and buttoned his shirt as he spoke. ‘How bad had you got?’

‘A bottle at night. Half a bottle throughout the day.’

‘I’m feeling guilty now for putting it back in front of you.’

‘Mitigating circumstances. I’m sure even at an AA meeting this kind of lapse is forgiven. I guess I . . . I found it touching the way you took it away from me. It was nice that you cared.’

He nodded.

Sarah moved around on her seat to face him again. Her back was slightly freer, from the alcohol perhaps. The pain seemed to be lessening. ‘You should be drinking, it’ll take the edge off your knee.’

‘I might strap it.’ He checked her watch again.

The roll of cling film was beneath the rolled-up specs at the end of the table. He reached for it and began the ritual of looking for the end of the roll. Buttoning his shirt had been challenging enough; with his damaged fingers he was unable to pick the plastic free.

‘Here, let me.’

Sarah took it from him, but she struggled with the cling film as well. Her fingers were sore. Her ability to concentrate was winding down. Her vision blurred. Grimacing to focus, she got a start and peeled a section of plastic back for him. She handed it over.

‘I know why the police are coming, Brody. You don’t have to hide it from me anymore.’

He rested the cling film on the table and pushed both the glasses away. He reached across, taking hold of her hands. ‘Did they say something to you?’

‘No. They didn’t need to.’ Sarah took her hand out from under his. She touched her forehead. ‘It’s been in here.’

‘It’s going to be all right.’

‘I don’t think it is.’

‘You’ll be able to fight it.’

Sarah touched the nape of her neck, and then trailed her hand away. ‘The police are coming for me. I shot my husband.’

‘I’m going to tell them how badly you were beaten.’

‘I’m going to jail.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘You’re not a bad person, Sarah; they’ll see that.’

‘You knew the first night, didn’t you? As soon as you saw Tansy you knew. How? How do they know?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going to help you.’

‘I’ll be charged with murder.’

‘Maybe not.’

‘You haven’t seen them. They weren’t treating me like someone who’d acted in self-defence. They were treating me like I was a killer.’

‘They’ve panicked because all I got to tell them was that you’d found the gun and I was worried I’d have to restrain you. Then the hut collapsed and I was cut off. Who knows what they think has happened.’

‘You’ve been in contact with them the whole time?’

‘Only at the start and at the end. Sarah, I haven’t wanted to lie. But it also seemed like the only thing to do. I’ve told them that you don’t remember.’

‘I do though.’

‘Shh.’

‘I couldn’t work out how you knew? How could you know that quickly?’

‘Sarah,’ he leaned in close, ‘we haven’t talked about it, and we shouldn’t now. One of the first things I said to them was that you don’t remember.’

‘What’s going to happen when they get here? What’s going to happen to Tansy? What will they do with her?’

‘I’m going to look after her. Please, listen to me.’ He met her gaze. ‘Not remembering could be the best thing for you.’

‘I didn’t know how much to say to you, I didn’t know how much you knew, or
how
you knew. In the end I could see you did, but . . .’

‘That’s what I’m trying to say to you – don’t you think it’s right the way we did it?’

‘They’re going to take Tansy away.’

‘I promised I would look after her, and I will.’

Sarah put her other hand near his again, there for him to collect and clasp together. Tears slid down her cheeks. ‘I know there were times you were afraid of me.’

‘Not really.’

‘You didn’t want to tell me who you were.’

‘I panicked, that’s all.’

‘You thought you couldn’t even tell me your name.’

‘No, Sarah, it was the situation getting to me, not you.’

‘I’m frightened.’

‘It’s going to be all right.’

‘I shot him.’

‘Shh, it’s important – you don’t remember. That’s all you’ve got to say. Just keep saying that.’

‘I didn’t want to think about it,’ she cried.

‘No one is going to want to put you in jail.’

‘I tried not to lie.’

‘I know you did.’

‘I did lie about one thing.’

‘I think you’re allowed a few in the face of all mine.’

‘I wasn’t seventeen. I was fourteen. It went on for three years.’

Brody’s face dropped. Instinctively perhaps, his hands drew away, but he quickly restrained the reflex and gripped her hands again. ‘Oh Sarah . . .’

She needed a drink. She took her hand out from beneath his and reached for the bottle. Her hand missed it completely. Her lips felt full and tingly. There was a bitter taste on the back of her tongue. She looked at Brody’s untouched drink.

He took her hands again and drew them nearer to him. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.’

Over by the door, on the floor, were the empty blister packs, there where she’d thrown them. Not discarded by him though – the tablets kept and stored, like the rope under the bed, as safety measures.

‘I know this,’ she whispered to herself. The familiar soft snow falling inside her brain, the cool coating of numbing flakes, sprinkling down over her thoughts, a gentle dusting of Nordoxin taking the pain out of everything.

Brody was talking. She couldn’t hear him due to the hush of the snow. The coating of white was a blanket, too thick, too many tables dissolved in the quarter bottle . . .

Quickly, while she could, Sarah wrenched her hand free and jammed her fingers down her throat. She vomited onto the van floor.