Hunters: A Trilogy (73 page)

Tori moved towards him, saying: ‘First we need to sort out Mike and Red. They’re in a mess! Now, come on – help me!’ The girl seemed to grow about six inches, all of her distraught anguish having departed somewhere between getting out of the truck and barging into his shoulder, she looked older somehow. Tori had changed. She brushed past Ken, whispering: ‘And put that damned gun down, will you, Kenneth? It’s not needed here!’

He turned and looked at Jane in disbelief. She had no time for explanations and ran to join Tori, who had knelt down next to Red.

‘Ken, come on, get over here!’ Jane’s voice spurred him into action.

Ken placed the pistol on the bonnet of the truck and bounded up the wooden stairs. The men were in a very bad way indeed, Ken wasn’t sure if Mike was dead or not, but knew by the amount of blood his friend was covered in, that he soon would be. He ordered the girls to attend to Red, and after lifting the giant’s arms out of the way, Ken slid Mike out from the young man’s grasp.

Laying him flat, Ken ripped open Mike’s shirt and looked at his wounds. He was horrified by the diamond-shaped puncture marks perforating his friend’s chest and stomach. They had seeped blood all over his torso, Mike was dripping in it. There was one particular hole under his left armpit, Ken knew the amount of blood that had escaped through its gaping mouth meant only one thing – the wound was almost certainly fatal. There looked to be gallons of blood under his friend, it had pooled all over the veranda and was still dripping through the gaps in the wooden floor.

Ken stopped looking at the other wounds and tried to see if Mike had a pulse in his neck. It was there, but only just, fluttering gently like a moth against the inside of a kitchen window, exhausted after a night of trying to escape, beating itself to death as you stand and watch with your first cup of tea in hand. Ken knew that Mike’s heart was also beating itself to death and there wasn’t a damned thing he was able to do about it. He felt for a pulse in Mike’s wrists and didn’t find one, all of the wounds had stopped bleeding and there was no longer any sign of arterial pumping. Mike’s blood pressure was irretrievably low.

A cold feeling washed over Ken, it was the soft caress of inevitability and he recognised her bitter-sweet touch. He had felt the same thing a long time ago, in the market, and many other places since that awful day. It was his self-protection system. The sensation, the recognition of reality, helped him to deal with these things. Without its intervention they most certainly would have been unbearable. His mind found solace in the thought that Mike would probably be in no pain. Ken rested upon the black staff of certainty, safe in the knowledge there was nothing more he would be able to do.

He leaned forward and brushed the jet-black hair from his friend’s face, using his thumb to wipe a streak of blood from under Mike’s right eye. It reminded him of the one he had seen on Red’s face in George’s little film clip. He sat down on the floor next to Mike and extended his left leg behind the Australian’s shoulders. Gently lifting Mike’s head, Ken slid his leg sideways and lowered it so that Mike’s head rested on the soft part of his own thigh.

He turned towards the others; Red was sitting up and coughing badly, blood still spattered from his lips. ‘Definite punctured lung – good!’ It was the only thing Ken was able to think of. He looked up to see if the pistol was where he had left it. The gun was still on the bonnet and lay well out of Red’s reach.

Ken turned back to the girls. ‘Mike’s going now, it’s over,’ he whispered. ‘You’d best come and say goodbye.’ He couldn’t stop himself from choking on the words. Breathing deeply, Ken rested his hand on Mike’s forehead.

Hearing his words, Jane spun around and looked at him in horror. She crawled over on all fours and knelt next to Mike’s head, crooning: ‘Ahhh, Mikey, sweetheart please don’t go, Mikey!’ Ken grabbed her wrist and shook his head. She looked at him in deep sorrow and he saw her fight back the tears. Hearing a noise behind him, he spun his head to see what Red was doing.

The boy was crawling over towards them; Tori had her hand under his armpit, trying to help him get to Mike. To Ken’s utter amazement, he saw the handle of a large knife sticking out of Red’s side. It seemed to be embedded in his rib cage, and yet he was still alive, still alive and moving! Ken shot another helpless glance to where his pistol lay, but he needn’t have bothered.

As he looked back to Red, he saw the man begin to cry, a dam of tears that had been filled by years of loneliness and abuse, topped up regularly with enforced guilt and misery, finally burst its wall. A veritable stream of tears flowed down his blood-covered face.

He sobbed: ‘M… M… Mikeeeyy, awww Mikey! My Mikey, I’m so sorry I cudn’t help you, Mikey. I’m sorry Mikey. I’m so sorry… Momma… Momma, Momma!’ He threw his head back and screamed. The blood-filled spittle flew from his lips and sprayed onto the underside of the roof above them. Red thumped down next to the dying man, placing his large, bloodied hands onto Mike’s chest. Through disbelieving eyes, Ken saw him trying to will some life back into Mike’s fading energy.

Then the situation really did go crazy.

Tori did something they would all remember forever.

She walked around the other side of Mike’s prostrate figure and knelt next to him. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward to speak. Quite calmly, she said, ‘Michael, listen to me, it’s Tori, open your eyes this instant, please!’

Ken thought that maybe she wasn’t quite getting this and was just about to say as much, when Tori’s brown eyes changed colour. Ken felt Jane stiffen beside him. Their thoughts, their words, even the very breath within their lungs, froze as they looked at the beautiful girl in disbelief. Tori’s eyes had turned violet blue. They seemed to swirl momentarily, before turning a brilliant, much lighter, cobalt blue. It was the colour of the oceans when seen from space, the same hue as the tips of lightning – the clearest blue Ken had ever seen. Hearing Jane gasp next to him, he guessed that she shared in the thought.

Tori spoke to Mike again. ‘Michael…’ she said, placing her hand over his mouth and blowing a stream of breath at his face. Mike’s eyelids fluttered. Tori said, ‘Michael, it’s your sister, now open your eyes and say goodbye properly, please – Michael!’

Mike opened his eyes and smiled weakly. He licked his lips and then whispered, so softly it was almost impossible to hear his voice, almost impossible, but not quite. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I was dreaming…sorry, Sis.’ He coughed a painful expulsion of blood and air. He turned to Ken and Jane, they saw the light flicker in his eyes, the brilliant blue colour flared briefly and then faded. It looked like a candle sputtering in the draft.

He smiled, saying: ‘Sorry, guys, this is a long story but everything is good now, don’t worry about me too much, okay…I just have to go somewhere else, that’s all it is. Don’t worry – I’ll be here forever, I love you.’ Mike reached out and laid his fingers across the back of Ken’s hand. He smiled once more and looked up at them.

Ken let the tears run down his own face. Taking a shuddering breath, he said, ‘It’s alright Mike, if you need to go then that’s okay, we’re fine, I’m just gonna miss you, man!’ He swallowed hard, barely holding back a sob

Then, without waiting for any more goodbyes, Mike died whilst looking right into their eyes. No big drama, no sudden jerking or terrible death rattles, like you would see in the movies. No, his death was far less spectacular. One minute he was there, and then, without changing the expression on his face, he had gone.

Mike’s candle blew out.

It was twice in his life that Ken had seen Mike die, and it didn’t get any easier the second time around. In fact, it was so unbelievable that he had to look more closely. Leaning across, he peered into his friend’s eyes, whispering: ‘Mike?’ Seeing all he needed, Ken sat back and cursed. ‘Shit!’ Jane gripped his hand tightly. Together they sat with Mike’s hand in theirs and let the emotions flow from their eyes.

Red didn’t see it when Mike went as he was lying with his head on Mike’s chest. He didn’t need to see it – Red heard Mike go. He sobbed deeply as he lay there cuddling Mike to his own injured chest.

Ken still felt like shooting him.

He would continue to feel that way until Tori put him right.

She looked at him, saying: ‘Red didn’t do this, there’s no time to explain right now, but you need to trust me!’ Her eyes blazed. ‘Maggie will be here in a minute with the ambulance. Now, come on and help me with Red!’

It wasn’t a request and both Ken and Jane obeyed immediately. They helped Red away from Mike, and whilst Jane and Tori tried to console him, Ken examined the big man’s injuries – they were substantial. Very much like Mike, Red had several knife wounds across his body and on his hands and arms. It appeared as though the weapon that had caused such damage was now firmly lodged in his side. By the looks of things, Red definitely had a punctured lung; his breath was rattling and he was doubled up in pain. Jane ran inside and fetched a bowl of clean water and some cloths.

After washing the blood from his face and chest, Ken was fairly glad to see that most of the cuts weren’t too deep. Obviously, the one with the knife still embedded was far from good news, but the rest didn’t seem to be life-threatening. Ken laid Red on his side and told him to keep the injury facing downwards. Red did as he was asked and lay there in silence. Tori sat next to him and held his hand.

Jane and Ken didn’t really know what to do next as they were both still deeply in shock. Ken looked at her and she shrugged, it was a gesture of despair and confusion. His mind twisted and turned as he paced around the veranda.

‘What the hell is going on?’ he thought, as he wandered around, looking down alternately between Red and Jane and then back to Mike’s body again. He contemplated covering Mike with a blanket or something, but just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Mike looked so peaceful, if it wasn’t for his deathly-white complexion, and the blood, it would have appeared as though he was just having a quick nap.

Ken’s mind shuddered. ‘Ahh, Mike, what are we gonna do now?’ He knelt and tidied up his dead friend a bit, pushing the dark hair off his forehead and straightening his hands. He stayed there for a while and looked down at him, the tears still wanted to come, but with an effort he pushed them back. This whole situation filled him with anger; his thoughts were going insane… ‘I need some answers and I need ‘em now!’ He rose angrily to his feet and turned, just in time to see a black van pulling onto the driveway.

The vehicle had arrived without a sound.

As it came to a halt, Maggie leapt from the driver’s door. She brushed past them and immediately made her way to Red’s side. They were so busy watching her that they didn’t see the other person, the passenger.

‘Excuse me, ladies and gents, coming through – mind your backs, please!’ For the second time of asking, Melias still had little or no time for niceties. It was just the way it was with this guy. He made his way to Red’s side, and like Maggie before him, Melias knelt beside the mortally-wounded man. In seconds his neat little scanner had made its diagnosis and was quickly followed by the syringe, the one that made hissing noises. ‘Help me with this boy, will you?’ he said. ‘He’s too big for a porky old soul such as me.’

Red had such strength that he even managed to stand on his own two feet, using the many helping hands for support as he staggered towards the black van. Melias didn’t need any help after that. He manoeuvred Red into the rear of the vehicle and they heard him say a few words to someone, or something, inside the van. He leaned out of the back doors, saying: ‘Stand back please! Maggie, you’re going to need this for Michael.’ He threw her a small, bright blue package. The old woman deftly caught the object and slid it into the pocket of her dress. Checking they had done as they were asked, Melias nodded and then slammed the doors closed. The van began to move away, which wasn’t unusual in itself, except for the fact that Ken hadn’t seen a driver. Just as his jaw was starting to drop open of its own accord, there was a ripping sound and the black van disappeared right before them.

As they stood on the driveway and looked at the sky, Ken felt like he was waiting for some signal, a cheap neon sign or something similar, anything. Whatever it may have been was going to appear right about now, its wondrous arrival putting them all at rest. They’d stare up at it with relief, sickly smiles plastered across their faces. Yes, that was it – big yellow letters were going to light up the sky, and there would be some cheesy music, blaring an out-of-tune, tinny accompaniment to the unseen master of ceremonies’ meaningless words.

‘It’s all just a bad dream, folks. Wake up now…here we go – you see…just a bad dream, is all. Now, c’mon everybody, let’s smile!’ Cue fairground music.

Ken may have stood there for a long time before he felt like smiling, forever perhaps. He also knew that it would be even longer before any such message would be delivered. He knew it for a fact and the knowledge filled him with despair. He turned to Jane, searching for her support, her strength. She walked across to him and they held each other. Standing under a faded peach-red sky, they clung to each other and cried until the dusk came and embraced them.

Tori and her grandmother stood next to Mike’s body on the old porch and looked down at them as the couple pined for their departed friend. When it was over, when they were able to cry no more and the tears were nothing more than a memory, a memory like Mike had become, they turned to the house and wearily made their way back to where the two women waited for them. Together they carried Mike into the house and took him into his bedroom.

Tori was adamant that it would be she who took care of her brother, when she said that word, ‘brother’, it still shocked Ken. He looked at Jane in a gesture of despair, but she was as much dumbstruck by the whole chain of events as was her husband.

Quickly stepping in to break their total lack of understanding, Maggie ushered them into the sitting room. Once the three of them were inside, the old woman closed the door. ‘Let Tori do the deed…’ she said, and took a seat on the chair by the window. Then she stood again, murmuring: ‘I think that I will make us a drink, do not move!’ Maggie ordered, and went back out to the kitchen, closing the door behind her.