Red Queen (18 page)

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Authors: Honey Brown

Tags: #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense

BOOK: Red Queen
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‘Did they hurt you?’

‘We fought – they actually
fought
me. It was like having your parents turning vicious – she was swearing in my face, accusing me of using them, blaming me for everything, all their mistakes – this woman who would have been my mother-in-law, threatening me, shouting for her husband to get the rope. I shouldn’t have been so shocked. I’d seen it before in town. But I’d gotten a little soft with you guys – forgotten what it was like out there.’

She waited, wanting my reaction before continuing.

‘You should have told us,’ I said.

‘How? I came in thinking you two were my threat. I didn’t know. But I was making the break, that’s what I was doing. If I went back once and they got some idea of the change —’

‘If it is true, and they don’t know where the cabin is – well then why tell me? Now I have to lie to Rohan. Is that the deal? Implicate me so he’s on his own?’

‘I want to start again. I hated lying to you. I will tell Rohan, but once things have settled. You know I can’t tell him now.’

‘I doubt you’ll ever be able to tell him.’

‘What would you do? How would you make it right? I came in with a plan – of course I did. Even if I was alone; you walk into a house with two adult men and tell me you don’t quickly set down foundations to save yourself from being hurt. But don’t you see? I’m here. I’m out in this paddock, in this tent, sleeping in the rain, burning what you ask me. I’m doing this.’

‘Could they have followed you?’

‘They’re old and weak. I doubt they’d even make it this far. They’ll never find it.’

She moved closer and touched my leg.

‘I’m sorry, Shannon. Please don’t tell Rohan. Not yet.’

I kept still.

‘Please, just a little bit of time.’

The fabric of the sleeping bag rubbed sheer as she got up and shifted her position. The cool tips of her fingers touched my face in an effort to feel my emotions. Whatever she felt made her drop her head to my chest.

‘Please, Shannon, at least until I’m back.’

‘It doesn’t work without you,’ I said.

She kissed the side of my neck. ‘Thank you.’

‘We need you.’

‘You’re not too angry?’

I didn’t answer.

‘You know how much I care about you and Rohan.’

I nodded.

‘Will you come out for my birthday?’ she asked. ‘In two days. It’s my thirtieth. I didn’t think I’d be doing this when I was turning thirty. Just for my birthday, then I promise —’

‘Lie down,’ I said.

She stared at the side of my face. ‘Shannon —’

‘Lie down. Take off your jeans.’

I entered her roughly and with one hand holding her hip. She grunted in shock or pain. The dark made me lower myself right down to her, my chest on hers, my face in hers; I put my mouth against the indentations and soft forms of her skin.

She’d been dry, and it was a combination of the initial friction and then the wet of her gradual arousal that put the experience well beyond the damp, my slipping knees, the wet feel of the nylon, the restriction of our clothes, and our heads working up to touch the back of the tent. It was her slow surprise, the gripping of her hands around my back, the intake of her breath, the tilting of her pelvis, the whisper of my name on her breath, which tested my resolve. Her wonder increased, and was in everything, she was subdued and receptive with it. ‘Shannon …’ she said. I covered her mouth with my hand, pushed hard enough to part her lips and have my fingers lie along her teeth.

She orgasmed without warning, one long arch against me, her neck contracting back, moaning behind my hand, searching for breath and drawing air in through her nose.

She’d not regained her breath, and yet I made her suck two of my fingers as I came, then more as I instinctively sought penetration and had the intense and aggressive thought of just filling her.

Only later, with my boots back on the veranda rail and the gun resting on my lap, did I consider how rough I’d been, how hard I’d pushed her head back, forced my fingers into the wet dark of her mouth. I thought too of her silence afterwards, the profoundness of it, and how it reminded me of that night I’d listened to her in Rohan’s room.

4

THE PIPE FROM
the water pump to the house had a leak. It was an old copper one that Dad had always wanted to replace. The new roll of black poly pipe was coiled in the shed. Rohan had decided now was the time to do it and I couldn’t agree more. It was a long, flat stretch of ground and I put myself to it with lunatic enthusiasm. Rohan often stopped to lean on his shovel and watch me, his eyes running right down to my boots in an effort to find a reason for my fervour. He made a joke about sexual frustration and I pinned him with a stare so venomous he raised an eyebrow respectfully back at me. The sun blistered down. Denny spent the days in the paddock under the shade of the gums, camouflaged; you’d have to sweep slowly back and forth with the binoculars to find her. Sometimes she was up a tree, on a branch, sitting like a schoolgirl with dirty feet dangling down. Today was her birthday; tonight I would see her again. I deliberately put this into a simple event and consequence, and stubbornly refused to elaborate.

The earth was compacted and a mixture of clay and sandy-coloured dirt. It was a relief when I came across a rock and I could wield the crowbar – it gave my back and arms some rest, and was satisfying when the rock came away and left a hole I hadn’t had to dig. The chooks joined us for a while, picking over the long mound we made.

We were in full sun and with no chance of shade until late afternoon. The glare from off the bluff was painful; we kept our backs to it. At the beginning of the trench I’d been tense with Rohan’s nearness, aware of the sweat running to the tip of his nose and irritated by the beading across his brow and dark patches on his shirt. But a few metres along I stopped noticing, and his distance from me became irrelevant.

More perturbing in the end was his new found congeniality. Two shovels and a backbreaking task seemed to unlock the realms of Rohan’s casual banter. I deflected most of it, pleased when I did that he was impossible to offend – his arrogance an impenetrable hide – but when he started talking about Denny I couldn’t help but tune in and listen.

‘If we were smart we’d be swapping notes. I bet she varied the poems for each of us. We could throw her with a few swapped recitals, a couple of her moves. Did she tell you the one about solitude? And touch you when she told you?’

I didn’t answer.

‘That’s a good one. Get her to tell you it when she gets back. I’ve been thinking, anyway. You know – why bring all the sex and relationship problems over into this world? We’re stuck together, we’ll be stuck together for a long time – who knows – and when it’s all said and done, does it really matter who loves who, or even who hates who? I’ve been sick to the stomach with the whole thing – disagreeing with her. You’d think the woman would be the one, wouldn’t you?’

I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

‘But I don’t think she’s far off the money.’ He stopped work to lean forward on his shovel. ‘We’ve always confused the two things, and got uptight about the rights and wrongs of it – this is probably nothing new to you. You’d have it well and truly pared back to instinct and animal behaviour. You probably agree with her – sex can be the weakest link in a relationship, so give it a chain of its own – especially in this situation.’

I frowned at him. ‘What are you trying to say, Rohan?’

‘It does take some getting your head around,’ he continued. ‘I doubt Dad would have ever come at it. She makes it all a little too primitive. When she explains in frank terms that she thinks it’s best she sleeps with your brother it can knock you back a few paces. A fair kick in the balls, actually. And I’m thinking it’s not gunna work, and then seeing it doesn’t work. But what’s the alternative?’

‘Sleeping with neither one of us would be pretty obvious.’

‘You’ve not been paying attention – she’s not exactly shy about her needs.’

He returned to the job, but I could tell he wasn’t finished talking. We stabbed at the ground and I waited.

‘She talk to you much about how she sees things now?’ he asked. ‘How she thinks that although gender poses new problems, she has never before felt the kind of affiliation she does now with men? That for all the social and moral standards, the levelling out of the sexes, she relates more to us now than she ever has. She was probably just softening me up, but she said she finds it amazing that before it was all about men controlling their aggression, and then in a few short months we’re shoving them forward with weapons in hand and demanding they act manly – defend us, feed us, forget all that rot about equality.’

He stopped and took off his shirt. I was wary. A lesson seemed to be forming – he spoke more openly with her, he gave some sort of approval for our group sex, he understood her better than I did, her dislike of him wouldn’t stand in the way, and he was physically stronger – his superiority put beyond doubt with a barbarian show of brawn.

‘Well, come on,’ he said almost playfully, ‘spill the beans. She’s gotta have run me down. That’d win you over quick, wouldn’t it? Having a good bitch about the bastard.’

The inference of me
bitching
like a woman, intentional or not, was enough. ‘You feeling a little insecure there?’ I asked. ‘Not quite sure how she’s gunna front up to the guy who smacked her around the face and kicked her out in the rain like a stray cat? You know what – she never ran you down. She never said a single bad word about you. You might have left your enlightenment a little late. Did you make this mistake with all your women? Or didn’t you ever progress beyond the first few dates? You might be a bit green on the finer points of relationships, because even from my limited
campus
experience I’ve got a fair idea of the damage a lack of respect can do. You’re the one whose approval she wanted, Rohan, and you’ve thrown it back in her face.’

He’d stopped digging, his shovel held in front of him. His gaze wandered away from mine. After a moment he wiped the sweat from his brow and returned to work, keeping his head low, hiding the expression on his face.

We ate standing up. The flour from the bread crust rubbed off onto our dusty fingers. Rohan’s face was screwed up in an outdoor expression. Our smell was intermingled and I couldn’t pick who was who – it was a bracing, earthy, ferrous mix. Rohan was distracted enough to let me cut thick slabs off the warm loaf and smear the peanut butter thickly. I ate quickly to get as much down as I could before he came to his senses. I thought of making the sandwich I’d planned to take out to Denny, right there under his nose.

‘It’s Denny’s birthday,’ I said.

‘Mmm.’

‘She’s thirty. I thought we could let her back. Have dinner together.’

‘No.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, you know she’s not infected. It’s fucking stupid to keep her out there.’

‘Don’t swear so much.’

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’

‘Idiot.’

‘It’s almost two weeks, anyway. You might pull back some ground if you do.’

He turned the loaf on its end and pushed the breadboard away.

‘That’s just that sort of half-hearted attitude and inability to see anything through that gets us into trouble. Two weeks is two weeks. If you can’t stand by what you say you’ve got no hope.’

‘No hope of what? Achieving your sort of stellar wisdom? No thanks.’

‘Any wisdom would do you good, Pup.’

‘You’re such a fucken prick.’

He looked out the window. I heard the rumble of far-off thunder.

Doubt clouded his gaze.

‘You’ll make her sick if you keep this up,’ I said.

‘It won’t rain.’

‘Is that right? You channelling that forecast from that all-seeing God of yours? Wouldn’t he be too busy absolving you of all your sins? You know – the seven you like to commit daily.’

Rohan walked outside to check the skyline. I made Denny’s sandwich and wrapped it in a tea towel before stashing it up the back of a cupboard.

When Rohan came back in, I smiled tight-lipped at him.

‘What’s the weather forecast, messiah?’

The clouds collected. Denny was inside her tent. Rohan and I had finished dinner and come to lean on the railing in a way that might be perceived as amiable, but which was in fact crackled with tension.

‘It’s gunna go round,’ Rohan said.

‘And if it doesn’t?’

‘She can’t come in.’

‘On her birthday? Her thirtieth birthday? You’ll have her out in the rain. Has it occurred to you she might not be coping as well she makes out? That she might be just a little traumatised after living through the virus?’

‘If she hadn’t gone, if she could just …’

‘What? What do you want? To bruise her inside and out?’

He spun to face me. ‘Why do you think I do it? Do you really think I want this? That I like this? I want nothing more than not to have to worry about you, you and your every move, every thoughtless thing you do, but I haven’t got the luxury. I haven’t got the luxury for a lot of things. As long as you’re
whipped
and she’s a snake in the grass, there’s not much else for me to do but stop the two of you ripping the whole thing apart. You’ve got no idea – I can’t even tell you what I want. And I’ll probably never have what I want. Because of you; because of this fucking worry I have constantly about
you
.’ He turned towards the door. ‘But hey,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘don’t mention it.’

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