Unappeasable sunlight.
Olivia had risen and was scrambling after Jacko.
“No! Wait!” Heather said. She rubbed her eyes.
There was the sound of a gunshot.
Her heart missed a beat. She couldn’t breathe.
She stood on the machete handle. She picked it up and hobbled after Jacko.
The crow was still watching her from the lightning-struck eucalyptus tree. Still waiting for the body.
She reached the mangrove bushes.
“Little bastard. Won’t get far, I tell you that,” Jacko was saying into the walkie-talkie.
He was walking back toward the beach.
Walking through the trees.
The wind freshened even more.
Didn’t he hear that roaring?
What was all that noise?
Why couldn’t he see her?
She could see him.
He was holding the rifle vertically in his right hand, the walkie-talkie in his left. There was no sign of either Owen or Olivia.
Suddenly Jacko froze. “What’s that?” he said.
He spun around. His eyes were wild. He was spooked.
He fired the rifle into the bushes.
His back was to her. He was only ten feet away.
The air was full of sand and blowing leaves. Grit in her eyes and mouth.
There were two of him, phasing in and out.
She waited for the two to merge and when they did, she ran at him and swung the machete at his right shoulder. The blade went in two inches and hit bone. Jacko screamed, dropped the rifle. She tugged out the machete for another go.
“Bitch!” Jacko yelled and turned fast and kicked her in the gut.
The air was knocked out of her.
Legs liquefying.
But it wasn’t as good a kick as he thought.
She steadied herself.
Jacko bent to pick up the Lee-Enfield and didn’t see her next blow coming. The machete tore open his cheek and pulled right through to his lips.
He screamed again, fell to one knee, and scrabbled around in the dirt until he found the rifle.
He aimed it at her and pulled the trigger.
At point-blank range.
He couldn’t miss.
But he hadn’t ejected the spent cartridge or chambered a new round. He looked at the Lee-Enfield in bafflement.
Heather swung the machete a third time. He was a stationary target.
She couldn’t miss.
With a clang and a sickening thud, the machete hit him between the shoulder and the neck. He was knocked back onto his haunches.
The blood was pouring from his mouth now. She tugged the rifle from his hands. She pulled back the bolt and chambered another .303 cartridge. Jacko made a last desperate lunge at her.
She shot him in the gut.
Their eyes met.
He was confused.
“Do you smell that?” he muttered.
The smell was cordite and saltwater marsh and red blood cells.
“I smell it,” she said.
“The bunyip,” Jacko said, then keeled over and died.
31
Owen and Olivia had watched the whole thing. They hadn’t run. They should have, but they hadn’t.
They ran to her now.
She hugged them and kissed them and hugged them again.
They hugged her back.
“Is he dead?” Owen asked, pointing at Jacko.
“He’s dead,” Heather said, gasping.
She had killed a human being. A living man. He had been trying to kill her, but that didn’t matter. He had been a person with a brain and ideas and experiences and it was all gone now and she had taken it. It was a terrible thing to do when you thought about it.
She sank to her knees. I’m sorry it had to be this way. I’m sorry we came. I’m sorry for all of this.
“Can I touch him?” Owen asked.
Heather got to her feet. “No. We have to move fast. You guys wait over there while I see what he’s got,” Heather said.
“Here’s your shoes,” Owen said, handing them to her.
“Thank you.”
She searched Jacko and found a tin canteen a third full of water, some money, cigarettes—her cigarettes—a cigarette lighter, 8x50 binoculars, a plastic shopping bag with loose .303 ammunition, and the walkie-talkie. She took everything, including Jacko’s belt, shoelaces, socks, and hat, which she put backward on Owen’s head.
She put her sneakers on and examined Olivia’s face. Her lip was still bleeding a little. “Where did he hit you?” she asked.
“It was just a slap. He saw me and I tried to run, but he was too fast.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Heather said.
“Forget it. It doesn’t hurt. What do we do now?” Olivia asked.
“We have to get away from here. North, I think. Take a drink,” she said, handing them Jacko’s canteen. They both gulped the water.