Fire Eye (26 page)

Suddenly Jed steps out from behind the tree. She hears the safety click off and the deadly sound of his command. “Stop!”

She looks up to her left and sees him in the semi-crouch position he taught her, Colt held in the two-handed hold she has mastered. In front of him is the shape of a man caught in surprise against the foliage of the trees.

They look at each other, Jed calm and deadly because he had some warning, but the stranger in total surprise. She takes everything in, the sounds of birds somewhere in the swamp, the mix of shadow and light, the pattern of greenery surrounding them and the look of total astonishment on the face of the black man as the Colt points unwaveringly into his chest. Centre of mass! She has heard the term watching television. Jed doesn’t bother pointing at his head. She knows it is too easy to miss with a quick movement. He has centre of mass and she feels as safe as can be under the circumstances. The silence drags on as she carefully stands up.

Someone has to break the stalemate and she hears Jed ask, “So, who are you?” even though he already knows the answer. The tracker!

Joe is stunned. A white fella got the drop on him! He tracked in carefully through the swamp even though he didn’t really expect to find them here. He had been careful and still the whitey has a gun pointed at his chest. He has been careless. This man is pretty good or maybe it is just bad luck? It doesn’t matter, he still faces the gun. He throws the questions aside. These are the people the bastard white man is after. He feels for them but wants Little Britches, so focuses on the game he is going to play.

“I can get you’se outta here,” he replies. “I know what’s going on and I don’t like it. Bastard has me brother, otherwise I wouldn’t be ‘ere.”

The pistol doesn’t waver in Jed’s hands as he considers his reply. The tracker is upfront and honest with no bullshit. “Why should we come with you? We’re perfectly all right as we are.”

Joe hesitates before he answers. “I know the places where they could be. I can keep you away.”

Still the pistol doesn’t waver as Jed considers the answer. He didn’t say he knew where they were, only the places he thought they could be.
A sensible answer,
Jed decides, considering he has no idea where they could be, if they are even still here. If the tracker is genuine, they would be in a better position than total ignorance. “How does helping us help your brother?”

“Maybe I help us get around ‘em. Maybe you help me distract ‘em and get bro,” Joe offers in return.

Jed thinks about it. It is a bit vague but a mutual deal sounds realistic and a sensible course of action. He sees the tracker is unarmed and lowers the Colt, flicking the safety on and tucking it into his belt. “Maybe we can work something out,” he offers in return. “Are they still there?”

Joe thinks carefully about his answer. It is a dangerous game he is playing but his only chance to help Little Britches. “They wait for you but I know the places they could wait. We can get ‘round ‘em,” he bluffs.

Jed considers it carefully. If Decker and his psycho son are out there waiting, getting past them will be a tough call on their own, just a game of chance. If the black fella is genuine, he is an asset. If he is playing a game, they’ll have to keep their wits about them. He knows there is a brother, so the odds are the black fella is genuine. “Let’s get out of here then and find your bro,” he replies.

Joe feels relieved and guilty at the same time.
Just trust me fella, I can do this. Get you both outta here and get Little Britches back. Trust me,
he pleads in guilty silence, but meets the whitey with a confident smile and puts his hand out.

Jed considers the options and decides this is the best they have. He is still wary as he grasps the tracker’s hand. Time will tell.

Decker stands in the shade of a tree in the midday sun, scanning the country. He is sweating a bit, which he rationalises as the effect of the sun even though it isn’t that hot. He is feeling uneasy, a feeling he can’t quite pin down as it is new to him. He has always been in control. Since he jumped the campsite and blasted an empty swag with buckshot, things haven’t gone the way he intended. Still, he has done his best to keep things under control but has a vague feeling it isn’t enough.

He trusted the black bastard and that could be his biggest mistake. He probably came back and grabbed his little brother, no doubt thinking he’d got the better of him. Maybe he’s done a runner with little brother, but doubts it. He must know he would be hunted down. Decker prides himself on being one step in front of people. His guess is the black bastard will give the bitch up and expect the deal to last.

He’ll think he’s fuck’n smart and put one over me. The bastard can enjoy the feeling but he will pay.
Decker savours the thought. He struggles with the feelings of actually sticking by his deal with Joe, but feels so slighted by his treachery that even revenge on the bitch might take second place. He can respect loyalty but it has to be total. He is immersed in the conundrum this causes him, ignoring Jesse waiting patiently beside him and taking no real notice of the country around them.

It is beautiful country with a mixture of shrubs, trees and savannah broken by the jump-ups rising out of the greenery in blocks of rocky country with a blaze of colour encompassing many shades of red and green. Instead of its natural beauty, he sees the landscape in terms of ambush points, fields of fire and lines of approach. He has no idea whether Joe will come back this way. It is a long way to anywhere from here. Even if he has done a runner, the bitch and her ponce have to come through this country. He can’t see them crossing the rivers and swamps to the east and west. He knows the bitch hates swimming in unknown water. It is a memory from the past, from a time when he had things under control and the bitch knew her place.

She never understood he really hadn’t wanted to smash her toes with the hammer. She had to learn. It certainly kept her at home for a while! She was his and he had to look after her. Going out alone and staying out late wasn’t on. He couldn’t have it. It was her fault. He couldn’t accept her piss poor excuses about parent teacher nights and catching up with friends to blow off steam. She was a stubborn bitch and even a few touches with a cigarette hadn’t encouraged her to change her ways. If she hadn’t been so stubborn, he wouldn’t have had to lock her in the shed when he went away. She had never accepted responsibility for her behaviour and had stuffed his life. He would never forgive her for what happened in jail. Involuntarily, the muscles in his backside clench. He hates the unconscious sign of weakness. He tightens his hold on the binoculars as he swings them from west to east. Now he has the black bastard to deal with as well. He has fucked with him just like the bitch and the ape in jail.

He scans the country with the eye of a rifleman. Jesse’s .223 has taken foxes out to three hundred metres so the bitch should be no problem at all at greater range. If she is out of range, he will enjoy the stalk to finish the business once and for all. All he needs to do is spot them and for that he’s found the perfect place. With his alibi, he is feeling confident he has time to play with.

“Let’s go for a walk Jess. Bring your stuff and follow me,” not bothering to see if Jesse is following. He stashes the glasses into his day pack and strides off with a determination that would frighten anyone who saw him. Jesse only sees his father, the man he idolises.

They keep up an unrelenting pace with five minute breaks on the hour. Fortunately it isn’t the wet season with its killing humidity. It may have been the dry season, winter in the southern states, but it is still warm to Tasmanians. Joe isn’t even sweating and maintains a steady gait, covering ground in an easy and relaxed style. His ancestry is obvious. Jed keeps up in his own style, practised on the outback plains hunting wild pigs and the Southern Alps of New Zealand chasing Tahr and Chamois. Alex is fit, but more importantly, she is stubborn and tough. She does it the hardest but keeps up the pace.

Jed walks behind her, watching her feet gain a secure foothold on the uneven ground so her legs can propel her forward with each stride. They don’t talk much as their energy is better spent on covering distance. He watches her move as he maintains an awareness of everything around them.

She attracts him more than any woman he has ever met but he can’t put a finger on exactly what it is that appeals to him. She is intelligent and reasonably flexible while also being upfront and tough when necessary. Underneath he senses a weakness, no, a desire to be protected from the world when things become too much.
She certainly isn’t weak,
he concedes. She is a woman and the essence of womanhood is not demeaned by a desire to be protected.

As they slog relentlessly across the land, Jed decides she has the leadership qualities, stamina and sheer guts the military would grab hold of with both hands.
Judging this woman is wrong
, he decides, as he keeps pace behind her. She has the brain of a scientist, analysing for truth and causality in everything she sees and experiences. She has gone through life underestimated by everyone around her. What she really wants is the freedom and security to be herself.

She has put total faith in him for reasons he doesn’t really understand. He is uneasy as guilt stirs within him. He has taken a gamble with his judgement of Decker. If he has judged wrong, she will die. Mind you, they could both die regardless of anything he does. Decker is a nutcase with sheer bloody vengeance in his heart. He has also gambled on Joe. Heading east or west will be a long way to anywhere. They would have to swim crocodile country and that is just as dangerous as heading back toward Decker, maybe worse. At least Decker is a man with predictable human behaviour, not a primeval dinosaur left over from prehistoric times, a perfect killing machine.

He loses track of time and comes to a sudden stop as Joe holds up his hand. He feels a wave of guilt wash over him in a tsunami-like flood. Even though he has been lost in his thoughts, he would have been instantly aware of any external threat. The internal threat eating away at him is a different matter. He shakes his head, refocuses and sees Alex looking at him with a mocking, questioning expression.

“Are you with us or in a world of your own? It’s been a long haul. You’re not flagging are you?”

“I’m doing fine. Kept my mouth shut so we can focus on covering ground with no distractions,” he lies. The guilt is consuming him. He sees no other way apart from running away into the unknown, which will only delay the inevitable confrontation. Whether it is today, tomorrow or a year into the future, it doesn’t matter. The bastard will come back some time so maybe it is better to face it sooner rather than later. At least now there is some control. In the future there may be none at all. The final showdown would come as a total surprise on Decker’s terms.

Jed uses the opportunity to take out the aluminium shield he made. “Humour me and try this under your top.”

Alex eyes it suspiciously. “I was hoping you’d forget about that!”

“I judged the curve by eye to help it fit. I’m quite pleased with it,” Jed adds modestly. Maybe one day he’ll have the chance to judge her size in something else, then immediately he tosses the thought aside. There are far more serious matters to occupy them.

Alex holds it against the front of her body and bends forward tentatively. “It actually fits pretty well.” Memories of fighting off Decker and his knife flash before her eyes. She has a primitive fear of cold steel invading her body, shaking off the vision with a shudder.

“Don’t fret about it,” he says encouragingly. “It’s only a back up in case the bastard gets too close. If he tries to use a knife on you, the surprise may buy us a few precious seconds,” he lies. “It’s probably a waste of effort. Just humour me.”

“I feel ridiculous. Will this stop a knife anyway?”

In reality, if the bastard is close enough to use a knife, they would have real problems. He has something else in mind. Jed’s made a judgement about Decker, his lust for revenge and the frangibility of a high velocity forty grain bullet. He doesn’t share its real intended purpose, deflecting a bullet intended to turn her into a writhing play thing for Decker’s vengeance. Jed is ashamed he has the potential to think like that nutcase, no matter how unlikely the scenario is. If he is wrong there will be hell to pay. Even if he is right she may never forgive him.

“Maybe we can toss it soon, just be patient,” he adds, camouflaging the fear growing inside him. He starts to feel sick and wants to walk off to sit under a tree before he throws up. He fights the reflex down and smiles, hoping it’s not a parody of a grimace.

They climb up to a low rocky ridge with a good outlook. Jed doesn’t like it. They are approaching the area where the vehicles lie stranded, with the risk that Decker and his boy lurk in waiting. He sinks to one knee to keep his silhouette low and scans the area, seeing nothing to give him concern. Everything is still. No birds call out or sweep the sky in alarm.

“What’s up?” Joe asks, his own guilt carefully hidden behind pretend concern.

“Don’t like this,” Jed responds warily, scanning left to right. He doesn’t trust Joe. Decker and his kid have the choice of various tactical options while their own are limited. Jed scans the area looking for anything that might give them an advantage. He reads the lay of the land and sees various possibilities, keeping a close eye on a ridge that is the most likely place for them to lie in wait.

They have almost reached the spot Joe has aimed for. He can see the clefts in the rock flanked by scrub and boulders to provide multiple escape routes to anyone with a bit of common sense. He doesn’t doubt the whitey could make good use of them. They move a bit further forward, a cleft to the left and right and a few boulders scattered strategically on either side in front of them. It is a clear, mild day with barely a breath of wind and Joe feels as safe as can be under the circumstances. There is nowhere close enough for people to hide to be a danger. He is getting more nervous but has done his best to think things through. There is no way they can touch him here with a shotgun or the little rifle. Sooner or later the bastard white man will have to come out and talk. He’s delivered his end of the bargain and expects to be left alone with Little Britches. It is up to the whiteys to sort out what happens next on their end. He has given them the best chance he can. He scans the tree line carefully where he soon expects to see Brad.