Skarzy (5 page)

15

He lay there for a while. At first he
didn’t mind they were taking their time. It’d given him enough to figure out his
reflexes if things went bad – figure out whether or not he would wave the gun
at them regardless. There was the rum too. That felt good. And after a while,
he realized he wanted more. Eventually he stood up and went to the window. He
could see his car from there.

His car and
the cop car.

COP CAR???

Skarzy’s jaw
fell to the floor.

What the fuck
is that doing there? How long’s it been there?

HOW LONG HAVE
I BEEN JUST SITTING HERE???

Skarzy went
for the door. Locked.

Set up.
Fucking rich pricks.

He could hear
them now too. Coming up the stairs.

Would they
come in shooting? Did they know he had a gun?

Skarzy picked
up the clock radio and tossed it at the window.

Not hard
enough. Barely made a crack.

Outside the
door:
“Shit! He knows!”

“Quickly, open
it!”

Skarzy went
for the bed. Picked up the revolver. Fired it at once at the window.

“He shooting
at us!”

“YOU’RE FUCKED
NOW, TERRENCE!!!”

Hole went
straight through. More cracks. Skarzy fired again.

This time it
shattered.

There was a
thud outside the door. They must’ve dropped.

Skarzy ran for
the windowsill.

Jumped.

He landed on
the carport. Upstairs they were firing.

Skarzy jumped
again.

Pavement. He
was stung.

He ran. Jumped
at his car.  

Made for the
handle. Went for his keys.

“HHHHHHRRRRRRR!!!”

The front door
was opening. Men were shouting.

Skarzy ran
wildly. He could barely feel the road on his feet.

Other people
were coming out of their houses now.

There was no
place for him to stop. Time was against him.

The deadlines
were real.

He remembered
Thomas knocking on Albert’s window.

Tap, tap, tap.

Oh, the panic.
There hadn’t been time for him to put on underwear.

Skarzy ran and
it was raining now.

He was back
where he started.

16

Only he wasn’t. Not quite. There was
one significant difference between his first run into Mentone and now. Skarzy
had a gun.

He ran for
almost ten minutes straight before he stopped. He ran through houses, and over
fences. Down streets and sidealleys. Through a reserve.

He stopped at
the end.

The cops were
long gone.

But with a
great sense of dread, Skarzy realized they had him this time.

Pressed up
against the wall.

The phone.

That one
blasted message.

How long would
it be before they traced his phone number?

Spoke to
Vostle or Lucy?

Well … he
doubted they would tell them much.

But they had
his name now didn’t they?

Skarzy?

He had
mentioned that in the message, had he not?

Skarzy gritted
his teeth. He opened the gun’s cylinder.

One bullet.
One bullet remaining.

In many cases
the gun would have been enough.

But not
anymore.

Skarzy slowed
down. Walked. He was nearing the corner of the reserve.

What time was
it now? After twelve thirty? A quarter to?

One? Something
like that anyway.

Ahhh. What’s
to worry? The night is young.

First house,
Skarzy thought. First house out of this clearing.

E.T. time.
Extraterrestrial.

Mass Murderer.

Killer.

I’M GONNA FUCK
THE WHOLE WORLD OVER!!!

Skarzy stopped
as the trees thinned. Ducked down into the leaves.

Just over the
hill he could see it. Down the path.

Down the way.

Waiting for
him.

A cruising
police car.

17

Skarzy turned around. His forehead was
wrapped in sweat. He cocked the gun.

Walked faster.
Ran.

There was
another clearing on his left.

Another house
waiting. Or another police car.

Another
wailing siren.

One bullet
wasn’t enough.

Or was it…?

He pressed it
against his head.

Teeth
clenched. Growling.

Eyes dizzy. He
could do it, he knew.

It was so
fucking easy.

And the trees
were thinning again now.

Second
pathway.

He could do it
right here.

…

He didn’t.
There was something else waiting for him through the trees.

His heartbeat
slowed. The gun fell to his side.

A train
station.

18

Outside the station’s office there was
a basin. Skarzy knelt before it and buried his face in the fresh water. Ohhh,
the relief.

He looked up
after finishing. A black car passed.

Not a squad
car.
Whew!

He wiped his
brow and stepped into the office.

He was looking
for magazines. Anything to cover this up.

No Woman’s
Day. No thick pages of any kind. He was disappointed.

Eventually he
found an FR Radio pamphlet. It would have to do.

Skarzy looked
up at the clicking clock. It was twenty to one.

There was a
map by the clock. Skarzy ran his finger across it and found Mordialloc Station.

He looked
outside. The station was deserted.

Two ways to go
from here. Left or right.

Left to the
City and the stars and the lights. Where all the shops would still be open.

Right to Mentone,
and the First Station where he’d been beaten up, from there to Frankston and
then a taxi cab home.

It was a
difficult choice. In fact, Skarzy wasn’t sure what to do.

It made sense
to go in the Frankston direction, made sense in that he stood a better chance
of getting to his house by 5am, even if he didn’t have the money.

Of course,
that also meant going door to door knocking for nightmares, and you just never
knew the stakes there. Just thinking about that man’s hand on his palm…

And then there
was the City. Left of field.

His night
would go on. The race would go on.

The moments…

And what if he
was caught? He supposed it would happen eventually.

This might be
his last night free.

He crossed
over to the over platform and bashed the information button.

“The next
train to depart from Platform Two, will be the 12.59am train stopping all
stations to Flinders Street. There will no more trains this evening.”

Skarzy
swallowed. That had been close.

He stared
longingly at the snack machine. A nice big bag of Twisties in the middle.

He sighed. Sat
down on the bench. Eager eyes scanning for change.

Minutes
passed. His crotch began to shiver.

The gun
nestled safely under the pamphlet.

19

Skarzy heard the train coming. It was right
on time. The carriages rolled past him at blinding speed, and with them a
fierce gust of icy wind. Skarzy squinted bitterly.

He had seen other people were on the
train also, but not so many he was forced to make eye contact. It wasn’t
exactly peak hour. He ran beside what appeared to be an empty compartment, pried
the sliding metal doors apart with a nudge, and stepped aboard into the
revealing light.

The train
almost began again immediately. Skarzy wondered if the driver or conductors had
seen he was the only one at the stop. He wondered if they’d seen him naked.
Skarzy didn’t have a ticket. If they came down from wherever the hell they
were, he’d have to jump the train and make do with wherever he landed.

Not exactly an
unfamiliar concept.

The train
rolled on and Skarzy stumbled across the aisle, looking for an inconspicuous
seat. There was a black fellow sitting at the far end. Other than that the
carriage was
empty. Skarzy sat down, the gun and pamphlet tucked to his
right side. He stared at the black man.

The nigger was
in his early thirties, wore a beanie and sported dreadlocks, and had a guitar
case resting on his lap. He was also wearing sunglasses. Skarzy couldn’t tell
if he was asleep or not.

On any other
day, this prick was quite a welcome guest.

Frankston, the
town where Skarzy lived, was scarce of most foreigners, particularly black
fellows. He and Vostle and others had traveled out this way on many occasion,
just to pick a fight. Skarzy wasn’t much for punching on, but he’d help – he
hated blacks almost as much as he hated the Terrorists.

Come on,
Skarzy
thought.
Come on and take me!

He was fresh
out of nigger jokes. And it wasn’t exactly the most appropriate time to be
getting into a fight.
Or was it?

Skarzy was
looking at his clothes now. The faded black jeans. The metallic belt. Black
sweatshirt. He could roll this fucker. Just give him a reason.

The fellow
stirred. Perhaps he had been sleeping.

“The next
station is Glen Huntley.”

The computer
voice almost startled him. He could hear the train rustling now. It was going
really fast. And this was all so vivid. This night as clear as day.

This nigger
leering at him through his sunglasses.

Skarzy
waiting. Waiting for the fuck to cast the first stone.

Can you see my
pecker from there?

Can you see
I’ve got it going on?

You just
fucking try me.

The man
remained motionless.

Skarzy thought
of something else.

What if the
fucker has a gun also?

What if that’s
not a guitar in there, but a shotgun?

Don’t you
think you should shoot first?

The train
rolled on. Skarzy’s eyes were full of hatred. Tearing up. Cheeks puffed red.
Teeth grinding.

The nigger
moved his head slightly. Skarzy flinched.

His hand was
so tight on the gun now. Any second he could just raise it.

Fire.

Except you’ve
got to get it right. You’ve got to shoot with dead accuracy.

You’ve only
got one bullet.

The nigger
moved his head again. Looked towards the window.

“Now
approaching Glen Huntley Station.”

The nigger
stood. Skarzy flared.

What’s he
doing…?

Was he using
this stop as a distraction?

Or was he
really getting off?

The man walked
down the aisle. He was coming right for Skarzy.

The pamphlet
was barely covering the gun. Skarzy’s hand was shaking.

He was on the
verge of raising the gun.

Just you –
just you – just you –

The man tipped
his sunglasses.

Skarzy lifted
the gun.

…

The man walked
past him. Got off the train.

Never broke
his stride.

Skarzy lowered
the gun. He felt relieved.

The doors
slammed shut. He was alone in the carriage.

It soldiered
on. Skarzy picked up the pamphlet.

Had a look
inside the cover.

Juicy Dogs
Presents

FR FM RADIO

Rodney, Gira,
Mackulay, and Becky

TUNE IN 24
HOURS A DAY FOR ALL THE HOTTEST ROCK

And Your
Dollars For Life

He turned the
page. But then stopped.

Was that…?

Footsteps.
Several of them. Coming from the carriage behind him.

“The next
station is Caulfield.”

The door
opened. Skarzy didn’t dare turn.

He knew who it
was. The conductors.

He looked down
at the gun. Should he conceal it?

Wave it at
them?

Shoot them?

He was playing
it by ear. You couldn’t plan for that shit.

They were
getting closer. Almost upon him now.

Skarzy closed
his eyes.

“He-he-herrrr
–
What the fucking fuck…?
”

A male’s
voice. Continued laughing.

Skarzy turned.
There were two teenage girls standing in the middle of the isle.

Behind them
was Curly Serious.