Salvage (15 page)

‘Is he home?’ Helena whispered.

‘I hope so.’ It felt so good to lie down, hidden in the scrub. Melanie wondered if she would be able to get to her feet again. The clearing around the shack seemed very open, and she was very, very tired.

Helena sounded exhausted, too. Fresh bloodstains streaked her dress and hat.

The sun was high, and no breeze penetrated the underbrush. Sweat soaked Melanie’s back and thighs. The day was oppressive, bearing her down under the cerulean sky with its mocking puffs of smoke-signal cloud. No birds called; too hot for such cheerfulness. Or perhaps they simply waited, gripped by the drama of two women fleeing for their lives.

‘What if Paul is waiting at the barge?’ Helena said.

‘He won’t be able to do anything in public. He’ll have to let you go.’

Helena lifted her veil. Melanie quailed. The woman’s cheek bones showed, the skin stretched tight and translucent, stained with a web of purplish veins and dotted with crimson beads. Her lips were cracked and dry.

‘You know, you will have to carry me aboard. I can’t cross the water. It … hurts.’

‘So how did you get on to the island?’

‘Paul. He put me in a canvas bag and brought me across in the car as though I was luggage. Like a surfboard. It hurt very much, but I survived.’

‘Lucky no one looked.’

‘Why would they? I am very good at staying still during the daytime.’

‘It’s killing you, isn’t it—being out here.’ She gestured up at the searing sun that dappled them with shadows from the overhanging branches.

‘It’s all right, for a short time. Shade is best.’ She waved at a fly. The insect dodged easily, then droned around her head.

Melanie shifted, aware of black ants creeping towards them, of more flies gathering, as though the first had sent out some signal.
What next
, she wondered.
Vultures?

‘We should get inside. Get the keys from Jack. He won’t mind. Probably drive us himself. Get you safe on the mainland, then the cops can pick up Paul.’

‘No police.’ She seized Melanie’s arm, squeezing with surprising strength. ‘You promised.’

‘Damn it, Helena—’

‘No! I can’t risk the police finding out. Just get me safe. Hide me. We can start over, you and me.’

Melanie bit her lip, feeling the conviction of the woman’s desperate stare. ‘Start again?’

‘You and me. Together.’ A hand on hers, a gentle pressure. ‘Forever.’

‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she stammered.

‘You do like me, don’t you?’ The grip tightened. Her eyes shone as though in a fever. A tear of glistening crimson grew at the corner of her left eye.

‘Of course.’

‘I can be very good for you, Melanie. Help me, love me, and you will never age. Never grow old. And eventually, when you are ready, if you so choose, you could join me in the night. Young and eternal, never having to be afraid again.’

‘I’m not afraid. Well, except of Paul.’

‘You would never treat me as he has done. I trust you.’

‘What does he want from you? Why is he doing this?’

‘He has grown tired of waiting. Tired of being my helper. He has become greedy, wanting the gift. A gift I am not prepared to give him.’

‘So now he wants to take you home?’

‘He thought that keeping me here as a prisoner would make me change my mind. He has threatened to take me back to our village. We ran from it, you see. I wanted to see the world. He came with me, out of love, I thought. But I think perhaps it was something else.’ She shrugged. ‘Now I have to escape. To start again.’

Melanie’s muscles ached. Her breathing had slowed, the flashes before her eyes faded. The wound where Helena had bitten her throbbed.

‘What’s it like? Being…’

‘Like nothing else, Melanie. Seeing the world like no one else can. Being strong and fast. Better than being some housewife, chained to the sink and the crib.’

Melanie winced. ‘How did you, you know, become what you are?’

Helena closed her eyes, as though conjuring the memory. ‘A man came to our village. A man not a man. He wanted us to serve him, to relive some former glory he had lost. He chose a few of us to serve him, thinking he could control us. But the village rebelled and threw him down. Those who he’d made like himself, they chained up, like cattle; they fed from us to keep themselves young and healthy. Paul freed me. He had relatives in Melbourne who helped hide us, not realising what we were. And then we ran before anyone from the village could come for us.’

She grabbed Melanie’s hand.

‘We can find a place, Melanie. Somewhere quiet, secret. We can give each other what we need and be happy together. Can’t we?’

‘I don’t know, Helena. I really don’t.’

She dodged another ant. A long train of them were converging on their hiding place and the flies had thickened. Helena dropped her veil; the flies crawled across the stained material, clustered around the blood.

‘I hate them,’ Helena said, taking her hand from Melanie to shoo them. ‘This country has too many insects.’

‘We should move.’

‘Yes, the higher the sun, the weaker I become. I need… We need to go.’

‘You can wait here in the shade. I’ll see if Jack’s home. Maybe we can stay inside while we wait for Richard. He can’t be far off.’

Melanie made to stand. Helena grabbed at her. ‘A car. I can hear it.’

‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘Just wait. There.’

For a moment, there was nothing but the whining of flies and rhythmic roar of surf, and then she heard the engine. ‘It’s Richard. He’s coming. He got the message.’

‘Wait, just to be sure.’

The Jeep appeared in the clearing and pulled up near the Rover. Sunlight flashed off the windshield, masking two figures in the front. ‘It’s Richard, thank God, and he’s brought someone. He heard me and he’s brought help.’

Melanie shrugged out of Helena’s grip and ran towards the Jeep. The driver’s door opened and Richard stepped down. ‘Melanie? What the hell is going on?’

The shadow in the cab stepped out behind the vehicle and went around the back to open the rear door.

‘It’s Paul, Richard. He’s a psycho. Chasing Helena and me. I think he killed Friday.’

‘This all sounds pretty fucking weird, Mel.’ He stepped towards her, arms out, concern on his face. ‘Where’s Helena? And Jack? Inside?’

‘She’s hiding. We need to get her away.’

Paul appeared from the back of the Jeep, carrying Richard’s shovel.

‘Richard—what have you done?’ Her voice cracked, and she back-pedalled, her hands out defensively.

‘Come on, Mel. Can you hear yourself? I saw Paul broken down by the road. He told me about Helena’s delusion. Told me a bunch of stuff about the two of you, actually.’

‘Richard, watch out!’

Richard turned. The shovel hit his shoulder, then the side of his head with a resounding, sodden thump. He collapsed and lay unmoving on the ground.

‘I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,’ Paul told her. ‘If only you hadn’t…’ He hefted the shovel. ‘Where’s Helena?’

‘Bastard!’ She wanted to run. She wanted to go to Richard. She wanted to kill Paul.

But she stood, motionless, as Paul raised the shovel over Richard, its blade pointing down towards his head. 

‘Don’t you hurt him!’

‘Is this really what you want me to do? Would you choose her over your husband?’

An explosion sounded from the verandah. Paul staggered backwards, the shovel tumbling from his grasp. Blood welled from his gut as he fell to his knees, his hands pressing against the wound. 

Jack stalked down the stairs, shotgun levelled. ‘Don’t make me give ya the other barrel, you bastard.’ He glanced at Melanie. ‘How’s Richard? Is he okay?’

She stumbled to her husband’s side. Blood glistened in his hair. Paul stared at her, his face pale, eyes sad but desperate. She was aware of Jack at the corner of her vision, stepping around to keep his gun trained on Paul. ‘Just stay put, you. If he’s dead…’

Melanie felt Richard’s wrist. A pulse. She hugged him, whispering, ‘baby, baby’, over and over.
Why didn’t you believe me, baby?

He groaned, tried to move, his hands jerking.

‘How is he?’ Jack asked. 

‘I think he’s coming around.’

‘Lucky for you,’ Jack said, making a motion with the barrel towards Paul.

‘I need a doctor,’ Paul said, wincing, his breath coming in gasps.

‘None on the island. You’ll have to wait for the barge. Or hope they can get a chopper sent over. Now sit still. We’re going to take Richard inside. Can he stand, Mel? Can you move him?’

Paul staggered to his feet.

‘You watch it,’ Jack warned. 

Melanie tried to lift Richard. She couldn’t budge him. ‘Helena, help me!’

Helena stepped out of the bush. ‘Be careful,’ she shouted. ‘He will heal—’

Jack swivelled towards her. Paul lunged. Jack fired. The shot missed and the two men wrestled for the gun.

Helena grabbed Melanie. ‘We must run!’

‘I can’t leave—’

‘You have to. We have to get away.’

‘Wait, the Jeep! Help me with him!’

Helena paused, then gave a single nod before helping to drag Richard to the Jeep. With Melanie shouting frantic instructions, Helena opened the back door and scrambled in. Her hat fell to the ground but she ignored the loss. She grabbed Richard’s shoulders and hauled as Melanie pushed her husband’s limp body onto the back seat. 

From the corner of her eye, Melanie saw Paul wrench the gun free. Jack stumbled. Paul swung the weapon like a club. A loud crack resounded across the yard as the butt smacked Jack’s head. Crack again. And again, knocking Jack to the ground. 

‘Hurry, he’s coming,’ Helena yelled.

Melanie pushed Richard’s legs inside and slammed the door shut, then heaved open the driver’s door.

‘Fuck, the keys,’ she cried, and then thanked God as she saw them dangling in the ignition.

She clambered in, pulled the door shut and hit the locks. Paul pulled at the door handle, then stepped back and smashed the butt of the shotgun against the window with a sharp crack. The glass crazed, then bowed under another impact. God, just how strong was he?

Sobbing, shaking, Melanie twisted the key, willing the engine to start as she pumped the accelerator. The Jeep blasted to life, even as the window collapsed towards her. A hand groped at her. Nails dug at her cheek, snared in her hair. She fought with the gear stick, finally found the notch and sent the Jeep lurching forward.

Melanie screamed as Paul reefed on her hair. He ran beside the vehicle, yelling at her to pull over, saliva flecking his lips, spraying her cheek. The Jeep fishtailed and Paul fell away, leaving her scalp burning where her hair had torn loose.

In the mirror she saw Paul running towards the garage. Jack’s bloodied body lay prone. She steered for the beach track. 

They ploughed along the narrow trail. Melanie squinted into the sunshine blazing across the windshield. The Jeep bucked over the rough ground, the wheel jagging in her hand as the tyres bit.

‘Faster, faster,’ Helena said. ‘He’s coming. In the other truck.’

In her side mirror, Melanie glimpsed the Rover plunging after them. Melanie pushed the accelerator to the floor. 

They crested the dune and Helena screamed.

And then Melanie realised why Richard had taken so long to get to Jack’s—why he had taken the inland track rather than speeding up the beach. The tide was up, waves chewing away at the shore. Damn it, she should’ve realised. She’d seen it as they’d fled—No time!

She stabbed for the brake but the front end was already falling into space over the eroded lip.

The Jeep slammed down. Melanie flew forwards, then was hurled back with a numbing impact as the air bag thumped into her. The vehicle careered down the beach. Water sprayed as the Jeep ploughed into the surf before finally coming to a standstill. Waves spilled over the bonnet and splashed through Melanie’s broken window. The biting, wet licks of salt brought her back to full consciousness as the air bag deflated, leaving her bruised and aching.

They sat, engine silent, the vehicle creaking in the pull of the wash, waves splashing against the crazed wind- shield.

Melanie turned to check on Richard, sprawled in an ungainly tangle of limbs but still held firmly in Helena’s arms. Helena stared fearfully back towards the beach.

Melanie followed Helena’s terrified gaze and saw the Rover pull up on the narrow strip of shore. Paul stepped out, nodding grimly as though he’d planned it this way.

‘We’re trapped,’ Helena said.

Melanie didn’t have the words. She was fixated on the sight of Paul pulling off his gory shirt and walking towards the water.

‘He’s coming,’ Helena whispered.

Paul waded into the sea, stopping when the water reached his waist to wash his face and torso. There was no sign of the bullet wound. No sign of any damage at all. And then he kept coming.

‘We’re leaking.’ Helena pulled her feet up on the seat where she crouched next to Richard’s comatose body.

Water dribbled through the doors, pooled in the foot wells.

Melanie tested her door, feeling the pressure pushing against it, the weight of the water making her muscles ache with the force of resistance.

‘What are you doing, Melanie?’ Helena shouted, reaching for her. ‘You can’t go out there.’

‘We have to get out, Helena. He’s coming for us.’

‘I can’t swim, Melanie. It’s water, moving water.
Salt
water.’

‘We have to do something. The tide’s still coming in, Helena. We’ll drown if we stay in the truck.’

‘I’ll die if I go out there, Melanie.’

Paul shouted as he approached. ‘Time to go, Helena. Kiss your girlfriend goodbye.’

Helena shrank back as Paul yanked at her door.

‘Come out, Helena. It’s over. There’s nowhere left to run.’

‘Leave us alone, you bastard,’ Melanie shouted. She forced her door open and fell out, came up spluttering, her eyes stinging from the sudden dunking. She fought her way to the rear of the Jeep, finding the going easier in the lee side, then having to walk into the waves again as she approached Paul.

‘I have to do this,’ Paul said. ‘You haven’t left me any choice.’ He grabbed her before she could prepare. She lost her footing as his weight bore her down, driving her under: spluttering, gasping, scratching. He was too strong. Her lungs ached; her vision blurred.