Warrior in the Shadows (29 page)

3.26

Charley watched the Aborigine hunter shake his head as though deviled by insects; he stumbled forward and touched his wounded shoulder as he slowed his pace. Then he seemed to recover himself and he came toward the rocks that concealed Charley and Kativa. Charley held the gold bead sight of his shotgun on the growing figure and counted off the paces as the hunter came straight on, the caution in his pace changing to hurry. Something was bothering him, perhaps the wound or else the time he'd already spent cautiously stalking them. Alfie glided smooth and dark, part of the night, and he looked like one of the figures from the cave wall come to life, a long shadow striding between shadows coming for them.

He was almost there. A few more steps and the ambush would work. Charley guessed him to be twenty yards away and then saw that what the hunter carried for a weapon was a long ornate club. Alfie's eyes gleamed fiercely in the dark, his hair matted with sweat and blood, his body covered with smeared paints, the wound in his shoulder massive and black, still running blood. The club was firm in his hand and there was something clipped in the string of his loincloth as well.

He was close enough.

Charley held the gold bead on the Aborigine's midsection and clicked the safety off the shotgun.

Alfie threw himself to one side in a long roll that took him behind a rock even as the shotgun blasted a long tongue of flame at the rock. Charley cursed and racked the shotgun again and again, filling the night with the sing and whine of ricocheting buckshot pellets. Six rounds and the shotgun clicked empty and still he wasn't sure, though he knew he had the hunter in his sights. They had to move fast. He abandoned the shotgun and grabbed Kativa's hand. He pulled her up and they leaped from the top of the boulder and fell the six feet to the ground. When they crumpled to the ground, Charley's ankle collapsed beneath him.

"Damn!" he said.

Kativa shouted, "Charley!"

A club came whistling out of the dark to strike him solidly on the shoulder.

* * *

The click of the safety had warned him to leap for cover. The first two rounds had sent pellets biting into his right side as they glanced off the rocks. Those new wounds had slowed him even more as he blinked to restore his night vision shattered by the muzzle blast of the shotgun, and then he saw them stand and leap from the boulder. He rushed them as they landed, his club held high, and he stumbled just a bit and his blow missed the blond head and hit the shoulder…

* * *

Charley took the blow and spun to face his attacker. He pushed Kativa behind him. She stumbled and fell and Charley bulled forward, tying up Alfie's arms with his, pushing them both back.

"Run!" Charley shouted.

Kativa ran. Charley pushed Alfie back to create distance and fumbled for the Walther stuck down inside his shirt as Alfie swung the nulla-nulla at him again. Charley clawed the pistol out as he stumbled backward to give himself room.

But then Alfie turned away and ran after Kativa.

* * *

Kativa ran. Her fatigue and muscular soreness fell away with the rush of adrenaline her fear used to propel her forward. She looked over her shoulder and saw the face and figure of Alfie Woodard looming up behind her, one hand reaching for her and the other with the club poised high.

* * *

Charley was right behind them and he saw Alfie take her, the quick flash of the club, and then Alfie spun, with Kativa in front of him.

* * *

Alfie held the club across Kativa's thin neck, one end levered into his other arm in a modified figure four choke hold.

"What now, white man?" he said. "Think you can kill me before I snap her pretty little neck?"

He torqued the stick and Kativa choked, her frail hands tugging at the club.

"Put the gun down, Charley Payne. Then we'll settle this proper," Alfie said.

Charley held the weapon out in front of him. His hands trembled as he aligned the sights and kept the suppressor aimed at Alfie. He kept coming forward, but stopped when Alfie torqued the stick tighter and Kativa began to struggle for air.

"Okay," Charley said. He kept the gun aligned on Alfie. "Let her go, Woodard."

"My name's not Woodard anymore, white man. Woodard, that's a white man's name."

"Anurra, then," Charley said.

Alfie laughed. "Not bad, white man." He eased up on the stick and Kativa's breath came in short, rasping chokes.

"Here's what I propose, white man," he said. "You and me, we've men's business to see to. Old men's business, too. Not just the Old Men, but old in time. Don't you feel it? Look around you, at all those watching."

He nodded his head at the termite mounds that surrounded them.

"They're all watching. You know that? The ancestors, they'd take a body and put it in a mound, let the termites eat off all the meat, come back at the end of the season and break it open and take out the bones. They were easier to carry that way, see, and then they'd bring them back to the ancestral grounds. Very important, that. Now my ancestral grounds are run by the white man, my ancestors… I don't even know their names. But I have an adopted family, Charley Payne, a whole slew of adopted ancestors to call on."

Alfie threw his head back, his eyes rolling white in his head, and laughed a guttural laugh. "I've been adopted every which way you can, Charley Payne. Drop your gun. We'll finish this the way it was meant to be. You can't kill me with that .380 before I kill the woman."

Charley hesitated, then a strange certainty rose in him. He lowered the pistol and tossed it aside.

Alfie let the stick down from Kativa's neck, pushed her away, and then brought the club whirling down into a cruel blow on the outside of her leg that collapsed her in a heap, clutching at her numb and useless leg.

"Just to keep her from the gun, mate," Alfie said. He raised his club and charged forward.

Charley went for the CQC-7 knife he kept clipped in his right front pocket. He'd trained and practiced for years and he could draw, open, and slash with that knife in 1.2 seconds. He got the blade open and slashed across Alfie's stomach as he blocked the stick with his other hand. Alfie locked up with him hand to hand, his painted face only inches from Charley's, his breath hot on Charley's face, the Aborigine's face drawn in a rictus of rage, teeth skinned back and something not human glaring out of his eyes. The two men rocked back and forth, then Charley drove a knee hard into Alfie's inner thigh, causing him to stumble enough for Charley to break free and push him back with a front kick.

Alfie sprang backward and thumbed open the knife he drew from his loincloth. He lunged forward swiping with the knife and then brought the club into play, swinging it in a wide figure eight while he advanced on Charley, the club providing a shield while he looked for an opening to cut.

Charley ducked back, then lunged forward, cutting at Alfie's club hand and yanking his knife back before it was struck away. He tripped over a low rock and fell on his back, kicking out to keep Alfie away and catching an agonizing blow on his leg. He rolled to his feet and flung a hand-sized stone at Alfie, catching him in the chest. Alfie sprang forward, chopping down with his stick. Charley leaped out of range and swiped wildly with his knife to keep the Aborigine at bay.

"Pretty handy with that, white man," Alfie said. "Used it before. I'll take it with me to use on the woman, later."

Alfie lunged forward, poking with the stick and caught Charley a sharp, breaking blow in his ribs. As they circled, Kativa crawled for the Walther. Charley cried out, "No!" as Alfie swung and struck her across the back of her head, laying her out prone on her belly.

"Bastard," Charley hissed.

"She'll come to when I'm snacking on you," Alfie said.

Charley held a rock in one hand and his knife in the other. He feinted as though to throw the stone, then suddenly rushed in and struck Alfie hard on the wounded shoulder. Alfie screamed then, a thin high shriek like a rabbit in a snare. He dropped his club and Charley entered slashing, kicking the club away. Alfie took two long hard cuts on his left arm, but got Charley with a long gouging cut across his pectoral muscles before they both sprang back to create distance and circle once more. The two men circled each other and for each of them it seemed as though the termite mounds around them began to shimmer.

Charley saw a flash of doubt cross Alfie's face and in that moment he knew something was speaking to the hunter. He lunged forward, his knife extended like a fencer's foil, and he buried the blade in Alfie's throat, right in the hollow between the collarbones, and he twisted his knife to cut out and at the same moment felt the cold penetration of Alfie's knife deep in his belly, cold, then hot hot hot, and pushed Alfie away and saw the Aborigine bring both his hands to the terrible wound in his throat as he stumbled and then fell back.

Charley fell onto his back, pressing his hand to his belly and feeling the greasy coil of exposed intestines. Alfie's last cut had opened him, and even in the depth of deepening shock he knew to hold himself together, to hold himself hard. He lay there on his back, knife still clutched in his fist, feeling his blood pulse over his hands. He seemed to lay there for a long time, listening to his breathing and feeling himself grow cold. Then faces came into his shrinking field of vision, Kativa's and someone else. Sudden fear gripped him as he saw the painted face of an Aborigine peering over her shoulder, but then he heard the voice of Robert, the Law Man, "We've come to take you back."

Then it was as though he was borne by many hands through the bush while a song sung by many voices played in his head as he was carried to a place where the blue lights of an ambulance flashed like so many winking eyes.

3.27

The surgery took weeks to recover from. Multiple cuts and blood loss and a major abdominal wound had led to a serious infection, and Charley spent long days in a dreamy haze fostered by painkillers and fatigue. But he healed well. Kativa stayed at the hospital when she could and at Fredo's when she couldn't. The police had left him alone after long questioning, even though they were barely satisfied with the story of him being set upon by drunken Aborigines who'd robbed and nearly killed him. Kativa had given Fredo the Zip disks and the hard drive Charley had taken from Jay Burrell's computer; that went a long way to making amends. Charley had gotten a bouquet of flowers, with the strong hand of Terry Walker's handwriting on the card: "With Thanks from the Christians in Action."

That told him what he needed to know.

It was toward the end of his hospital stay that Robert the Law Man came to see him.

"You're looking better, mate," the Law Man said.

"Thank you for your help," Charley said.

"It's us that should be thanking you," Robert said. "You saw it through."

Charley reached slowly and carefully into the drawer of his nightstand. He took out the small bone and the quartz crystal.

"I think you should have these back," he said. "I didn't get a chance to use them."

"Oh, you used them all right," Robert said. "I'll take the one back."

He took the small bone and tucked it into the breast pocket of his khaki shirt.

"You keep the other. A memento."

Charley held the quartz crystal in his hand, wrapped his fingers around it.

"I'll do that, Robert."

3.28

It was biting cold in Minneapolis, with a crystal-clear sky and the sharp edge of bright light on the snow piled on the streets and sidewalks. It was too cold to be sitting outside, but Charley bundled up and sat at a lone table and chair outside the Linden Hills Café. Inside, Kativa waited for their coffee and rolls. Charley took out the crystal from the left side pants pocket where he kept it. He held it up to his eyes and studied the world through it. Everything looked so normal in the light of day.

Kativa brought out coffee and croissants.

"What are you doing?" she said.

Charley wrapped his fingers around the crystal and put it away.

"Nothing," he said. "Just remembering how some things end."