One Night by Malla Duncan

understand – ’
    ‘Stop saying that!’ he shrieked
suddenly. ‘You think I’m yesterday’s arsehole?’
    Silently, I stared at him. My mind
had gone blank. I had no idea what was happening – except a warning bell was clanging
in my head. This was a mistake. Coming here to this lonely house, was a
mistake. This man was not going to help us.
    As if answering my thoughts, Jake
gave a spluttering sound, halfway between a cough and a laugh. ‘He’s totally
nuts. Thinks he’s in a computer game!’
    ‘You shut up!’ A foot slammed into
Brent’s legs. The man looked at me. ‘How many more of you in the woods?’
    ‘None,’ I whispered through stiff
lips. ‘There’s no one else. It’s just me and – ’ I waved towards Galina who was
standing immobile on the kitchen steps watching this play. Her eyes were no
more than ink-dark slits against alabaster cheekbones. I tried for reason. ‘Please
– we need to call the police.’
    ‘You tie him up,’ said the man.
‘Over there – in the back of the van, there’s some rope. Fetch it and tie him
up.’
    ‘Please – ’
    ‘You bloody do as you’re told or I
shoot him now!’
    I stumbled towards the van, my mind
racing. What on earth had I gotten into? Who was this man? What should I do? I reached
the van and looked for the rope. The back was filled with machinery, bits and
pieces of motor vehicles, some bricks and old clothing. I peered through the
driver’s side window. The keys were hanging in the ignition. Momentarily my
mind caught on this fact. On the front seat were a pair of old trainers, a
white shirt and two cricket balls.
    Memory came at me with sickening
comprehension: Mona and I walking near here one warm afternoon; a cricket ball
lobbed; Mona’s words, Wally Bunting, local hillbilly. I’d laughed,
lobbed the ball back… As the crow flew from the cottage, the distance wasn’t
that far – probably not more than ten or fifteen minutes. If I’d thought to cut
through the woods, it would have been the quickest route to safety – that is, if
the occupant had been normal…
    But now Wally Bunting was armed
with something a lot more dangerous than a cricket ball.
    I dragged two long pieces of
slender rope out of the van and turned around.
    There was a strange loping sound, a
grunt. A moment of pure terror. Something black and spread-eagled was lunging
at me. I screamed and pressed back against the van as a massive dog of
indeterminate breed, stretched for my throat. At the last second, like a yoyo
on a string, it jerked back and was brought heavily to the ground, a length of
chain clanking taut as it came to its feet. Its face was inches away, a snarl
of red gum and white teeth.
    Wally Bunting yelled and the dog
withdrew, its eyes on mine.
    ‘You keep – you keep your dog off,’
I croaked, my heart somewhere in my throat.
    ‘He’ll do as he’s told,’ Wally
said, his implication clear. ‘You get over here with that rope.’
    He was standing cornerwise in the
yard, covering me, Jake and Galina. Cautiously, I slid away from the van and staggered
back. The barrel of the gun followed my progress.
    ‘Tie him,’ said Wally.
    I knelt again beside Jake. ‘I’m
sorry,’ I whispered. ‘What should I do?’
    His eyes on me, he mouthed, ‘Don’t
worry about me. Get yourself out of here.’
    I tied the rope as loosely as
possible. I slipped the knife I’d used to slash my tyres from my pocket and hid
it behind him. His hand touched it and his eyes met mine.
    ‘And his legs,’ Wally commanded.
    I looped and tied the rope, making
it look as though I was using a great deal of effort and strength. I stood.
    Wally waved the gun. ‘You and the
girl, inside.’
    I glanced at Jake but his eyes were
closed. He was alarmingly pale. He needed a doctor. And even if he did manage
to escape he would be of little use. I had to think of something…I had to get
the gun off Wally Bunting.
    3 AM
    Wally Buntingwas built like a barrel, squat and powerful.