The Abused Werewolf Rescue Group

He was squinting at Sergio, who sneered.

  ‘Yeah, sure. Like you don’t know,’ Sergio spat. ‘Nice try, dickhead.’

  ‘Is it Chris?’ Gary sounded groggy. ‘Did I crash your bike?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I had a few too many . . .’ As Gary trailed off, Sergio and I stared at each other. Sergio’s eyes slowly widened. I sucked air through my teeth.

  Then I gently prodded Gary’s arm.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘d’you remember who I am?’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Do you remember who I am?’

  ‘Uh . . . you’re not Chris.’ He didn’t sound too sure. ‘Is that Chris?’

  Unless he was faking it, Gary seemed to be suffering from short-term memory loss. It was weird. It was creepy. But it was also kind of useful; I saw that at once.

  ‘I’m Toby. That’s Sergio. We’re friends,’ I declared. ‘You crashed our truck.’

  ‘I did?’

  ‘Yeah. But we’re waiting for some other friends, and when they get here, they’ll take us to see a doctor. You need to see a doctor, Gary.’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ He lifted a hand to cover his eyes. ‘Yeah, I feel pretty crook.’

  ‘That’s because you hit your head,’ I informed him. Then I gestured at Sergio, indicating that he should put the rifle down. He wouldn’t, though. He just stuck out a mutinous bottom lip.

  ‘I don’t remember this,’ Gary continued. He was slurring his words. ‘Where is this place?’

  ‘The outback.’ I didn’t want to give an exact location, in case it jogged his memory. But he wasn’t satisfied.

  ‘The outback?’he repeated, grimacing. ‘How come?’

  ‘I dunno. Your car broke down and we gave you a lift.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You were driving?’

  ‘Oh, no. Not me. Danny was driving.’ As he opened his mouth to ask more questions, I cut him off. ‘You should stay quiet. You shouldn’t talk too much. Not with a head injury.’

  ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, that’s what happens when you talk too much.’

  ‘I’m gunna throw up,’ said Gary, before abruptly rolling onto his side. Then he began to vomit.

  I probably should have stayed with him. But in that heat, with so many flies around, I just didn’t have the stamina. Instead I beat a hasty retreat, leaning on Sergio as I limped over to the little patch of shade cast by Danny’s truck.

  Here I sat to wait for the sound of an approaching engine.

  ‘What if they can’t fix the car?’ Sergio queried, after a long pause. He was huddled beside me, poking through the first-aid box. ‘If they can’t fix it, they’ll have to walk back to Reuben’s van. It could take hours.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Maybe your mum will be here before then. Reuben said she’d turn up in the early evening.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘There’s no aspirin.’ Frowning, Sergio slammed down the lid of the first-aid box. ‘Can you believe that? He’s got bandages and alcohol and antiseptic cream, but no painkillers. Why the hell not?’

  ‘I dunno. Because painkillers are for wimps?’

  ‘Brandy’s a painkiller. I’ll have some brandy,’ Sergio decided. I didn’t even try to stop him. To tell the truth, I was trashed. Wasted. I didn’t have the strength to worry. I was thirsty and tired and my ankle was throbbing and my head was aching. The glare was making my eyes burn. So after a while I closed them – and soon after that, I fell asleep.

  I was still asleep two hours later, when Gary’s car appeared on the horizon.

  By sunset, Danny’s truck was upright again. Upon inspecting its undercarriage, Reuben had declared that it was ‘in pretty good nick, all things considered’. So he’d roped the two vehicles together, hopped behind the wheel of the sedan, and pulled the truck over until its four tyres were planted firmly on the ground.

  Danny had helped, of course. He’d used rocks, spare tyres and toolboxes to ensure a smooth and easy roll, propping the truck up here and holding it down there. But it was Reuben who had known where to tie the rope and apply the pressure. Without Reuben, I’d probably still be out there, my bones bleaching in the sun. Danny’s truck would certainly still be out there. Because when he finally turned his key in the ignition, his engine wouldn’t start.

  Luckily, Reuben came to the rescue.

  ‘It sounds like you’ve got loose battery terminals,’ he said, before checking under the bonnet. ‘Yep,’ was his conclusion. ‘Loose and corroded. You oughta clean your terminals, mate.’ Then he fiddled around with spanners and damp rags for five minutes, after which the truck was just fine – except that its roof had caved in. When Danny was at the steering wheel, he had to hunch his shoulders until his chin was almost level with the dashboard.

  That was one reason why no one wanted to accompany him back to the house. Another reason was the fact that he didn’t look fit to drive, what with his beat-up face and trembling hands. The rifle propped up next to him wasn’t much of an attraction, either. What’s more, the sedan had air-conditioning. Danny’s truck only had hot air blasting through the shattered driver’s window.

  Faced with a choice like this, the rest of us piled into Gary’s car. Reuben made Sergio sit beside him, in the front. I was told to sit behind Reuben, with Gary next to me. I guess Reuben didn’t want Gary anywhere within reach of Sergio – even though Gary no longer knew who Sergio was. Personally, I found it hard to stay mad at a guy who had to be shown how to fasten his seatbelt. Talking to Gary was like talking to a little kid, because I had to keep repeating myself. He’d forgotten everything I’d just finished telling him: my name, my cover story, the fact that I’d warned him not to move . . . I just couldn’t see the point of hating a guy who wasn’t even there anymore.

  Besides, brain damage is scary. It’s so scary that I soon forgot about the bad things Gary had done. I was far more worried about the things he might never do again – like feed himself, for instance. What would we do if he never recovered?

  ‘Use him as a plant stand,’ growled Sergio, without bothering to lower his voice. Not that it mattered much. Gary was slumped against a window, staring out at the passing scenery in a dazed kind of way. His eyes were half shut and his head bobbed around loosely, like a rag doll’s, every time we hit a bump.

  ‘He’ll have to go to hospital,’ I said. ‘Reuben? Sanford’s just an ordinary doctor. He can’t fix something like this.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ Reuben replied shortly.

  ‘I dunno why you even care,’ Sergio interrupted. ‘That guy deserves to be brain-dead.’ He craned around to peer at Gary, who said in a plaintive tone, ‘My knees hurt.’

  ‘Good,’ Sergio snapped. When I opened my mouth, Reuben glanced up into the rear-view mirror.

  ‘Sanford’s the expert,’ he assured me, before I could say anything. ‘He’ll know what to do. Once I drop you off, I’ll go get Sanford and Nina.’

  ‘You should go get Lincoln first,’ I advised, having noticed how long the shadows were. The sun was very low and the light was tinged with red. ‘He’s been in that pit for hours. So have the dogs. They must be desperate by now.’

  ‘Unless the dogs have eaten him.’ Sergio spoke with obvious relish. But since he was probably just trying to annoy me, I pretended that I hadn’t heard. Instead, I looked away, studying the reflection of Danny’s truck in the driver’s wing mirror. We were churning up so much dust that it was hard to see more than a blurred silhouette. The outline of Danny’s dented roof, however, was clearly visible.

  ‘Are you gunna use this car to pick up Sanford?’ I asked, my mind on the punctured tank beneath us. I could still smell petrol.

  Reuben shook his head.

  ‘Nuh,’ he rejoined. ‘I’ll use the van.’

  That made sense. I could understand why Reuben wanted to get the hell out of Gary’s car. In fact the sight of Wolgaroo’s distant gate came as quite a relief to me; I’d been
worried that we wouldn’t make it.

  ‘Can I go to Cobar with you?’ was my next question.

  There was a brief pause. Then Reuben said, ‘There won’t be room. Not in the van.’

  He was right, of course. The van could only fit three people, squeezed onto a bench seat.

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ he continued. ‘I won’t be gone long.’

  ‘Yeah, but what if Danny . . .’ I began, before I suddenly remembered who was sitting beside me. Even though Gary didn’t appear to be listening, I found that I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  It didn’t matter, though. Reuben knew what I meant.

  ‘Danny won’t be staying,’ he announced – much to Sergio’s surprise.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘We don’t need Danny anymore. He’s been a godsend, but I think we’ll be better off without him from now on.’ Reuben was driving very carefully, because of all the potholes. Maybe that’s why he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. Or maybe he was trying to avoid Sergio’s gaze. ‘Once we’ve got everything secured, I’ll ask Danny to leave. It’s not like he’s a friend or a relative. And we don’t want him freaking out your mum, Toby.’

  ‘No. We don’t.’ I agreed with that one hundred and fifty per cent. But Sergio didn’t.

  ‘What if Danny doesn’t wanna leave?’ Sergio protested. ‘What if he won’t leave?’

  Reuben sniffed. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

  ‘Oh, he’ll leave,’ Reuben said flatly. ‘I’ll make it worth his while.’

  Before he could explain how, we reached our destination. Reuben pulled up next to the house. Behind us, Danny’s truck rolled to a standstill. As the dust settled and the engines fell silent, I was suddenly struck by a nasty thought. Suppose someone was inside the house, watching us? Suppose the Third Man had arrived during our absence, and had hidden his vehicle?

  ‘You don’t think anyone’s in there, do you?’ I muttered, nervously scanning the nearest windows.

  ‘Nah. We woulda seen him.’ Reuben was already halfway out of the car. ‘There’s only one road in, and we were on it.’

  ‘Oh. Yeah.’

  ‘Don’t worry, mate. I’ve got the Glock. Danny gave it to me.’

  Reuben patted the bulge beneath his singlet. Then he slammed his door shut – bang! But the noise didn’t rouse Gary, who had drifted off. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open.

  I prodded his arm, very gently.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. When he didn’t stir, I poked him again. ‘Hey! Wake up!’

  Still he didn’t react. And I suddenly realised that he wasn’t asleep at all.

  ‘Oh, no.’ I recoiled in horror. From the front seat, Sergio declared, ‘He’s passed out.’

  ‘Reuben!’ I cried.

  ‘Probably just as well,’ Sergio went on.

  ‘Reuben!’ I pushed open the door beside me and swung my feet to the ground. Since I’d forgotten all about my injured ankle, the jolt of pain that shot up my leg served as a sharp reminder. ‘Ouch! Aah!’

  ‘What is it?’ Reuben had been heading straight for Danny’s truck. At the sound of my yelp, he stopped abruptly. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Gary’s unconscious! He looks really bad!’ I exclaimed.

  Reuben frowned. Behind him, Danny was climbing down from the truck’s cabin. His spine crunched as he straightened out the kinks in it.

  ‘Aahh,’ he sighed. Then he slung the rifle over his shoulder.

  ‘Danny.’ Reuben signalled to him. ‘You’d better come and help me with this.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘This bugger here needs to be carried in. I can’t do it alone.’

  Danny pulled a face. He pointed out that Gary could be dragged by the feet and not notice, but Reuben stood firm. Together, he and Danny wrestled Gary’s limp form out of the car, while I hopped ahead of them into the kitchen, leaning heavily on Sergio. It was a difficult trip for everyone. By the time Reuben had shuffled backwards over the kitchen threshold, Sergio and I were draped across the table, puffing and groaning.

  Sergio had bumped his broken arm on a doorjamb. I had badly jarred my foot.

  ‘Come on,’ said Reuben, pausing to address us both. ‘Up you get, I need you.’

  ‘Wha . . .?’ I couldn’t see why, since Danny had a firm grip on Gary’s legs. ‘My foot hurts,’ I complained.

  ‘Yeah, well, my chest hurts!’ Reuben snapped. Then he adjusted his position, freeing up one hand so he could jerk the pistol out of his waistband. ‘Here,’ he said, offering the gun to me. ‘You’ve gotta watch Gary, in case he’s faking it.’

  I didn’t understand, at first. I just stared dumbly at the pistol. Danny remarked that there was one sure way of figuring out if someone was really unconscious or not (‘just stick a bloody knife in his leg’), but Reuben ignored him.

  ‘Take the damn gun,’ said Reuben, fixing me with a hard green glare. So I took the damn gun.

  ‘Why can’t I have it?’ Sergio whined. ‘How come Toby always gets the guns?’

  ‘Because he doesn’t wanna fire ’em,’ said Reuben. Sergio immediately began to sulk. He stuck out his bottom lip and wouldn’t move.

  I had to make my own way out of the kitchen, using walls and cupboards for support. Reuben and Danny couldn’t help. They were having a hard enough time with Gary, who had to be carefully manoeuvred through narrow openings and around tight corners. At last, however, they reached the first bedroom, where they dropped Gary onto the mattress that I’d been using earlier that day.

  When I finally caught up with them, Danny was flexing his shoulders, Reuben was bent double with his hands on his knees, and Gary was lying on a tangle of dirty bedclothes, dead to the world.

  ‘His breathing sounds bad,’ I muttered.

  Danny sniffed. I could somehow tell that, in Danny’s opinion, Gary was lucky to be breathing at all.

  As for Reuben, I don’t think he even heard me.

  ‘Right,’ he said, straightening up. One hand was pressed against his ribcage. ‘You stay here, Toby. Keep an eye on this one while we go get that other one outta the pool. It won’t take long. We’ll use the tunnel.’

  ‘And then you’ll drive to Cobar?’ I asked.

  ‘And then I’ll drive to Cobar.’ Reuben shot a quick glance at Gary, whose eyes had sunk deep into bruised-looking hollows. ‘This one will be okay in the meantime.’

  ‘You think?’ I couldn’t agree. But since I wasn’t feeling strong enough to argue, I just slid down the wall and parked myself opposite Gary. No one tossed me a pillow for my bad foot, or offered to bring me something that I could wear on my top half. Reuben just followed Danny out of the room, leaving me empty-handed – except, of course, for the pistol.

  The pistol that I wasn’t going to need.

  Reuben, I thought, was being paranoid again. No way was Gary putting on an act. His face was the colour of putty. His breathing sounded like something heavy being dragged over wet gravel. As the minutes slowly passed, he didn’t stir – not even when a fly crawled across his bottom lip.

  It was awful, having to sit with him in the gathering dusk. The longer I waited, the worse I felt. What if he wet the bed? What if he choked and I had to give him mouth-to-mouth?

  What if he died right there in front of me?

  If this bloke dies, we’re in big trouble, I decided. And then, all at once, I remembered Reuben’s phone.

  It was under the mattress, he’d said. Under the mattress in the opposite room. Surely it must still be there? Reuben and Danny had marched straight down the hall into the kitchen; they hadn’t paused along the way. I’d listened to their footsteps recede, hoping that someone might double back with a drink of water. But no one had.

  Cautiously I pushed myself upright, using the wall as a crutch. As long as you have something to lean against, it’s easy enough to move along on one foot; you just have to keep swivelling from heel to toe. My other foot dangled in the air as I edged towards the doorway – heel, t
oe, heel, toe. When I reached the empty corridor, however, I had to cross it. And I couldn’t do that without letting go of the wall.

  Hopping was out of the question, since it would have made too much noise. I had to crawl. Once I was in the other bedroom, it didn’t take me long to reach the mattress, or to find Reuben’s phone. But I had to spend about a minute trying to figure out how the phone actually worked. And then I was really stupid, because the first person I called was Mum. On our home number.

  I guess I was just distracted. It’s hard to concentrate when your ears are pricked for the sound of approaching footsteps.

  As soon as our voicemail answered, I realised what a fool I’d been. Of course! She was on her way here! So I hung up and tried her mobile, which proved to be out of range. ‘The number you have dialled . . .’ said the recorded message, before I cut it off. Though my heart sank, I decided that not being able to reach her was probably good news. It probably meant that she was quite close, since I was in an area with no mobile phone reception.

  Suddenly a voice cried, ‘I knew it!’

  Looking up, I saw that Sergio had appeared in the doorway. He’d taken off his shoes, for some reason – maybe because they weren’t his. I guess that’s why I hadn’t heard him coming.

  ‘You slimy bastard!’ he exclaimed, lunging at me. I squirmed away, desperately trying to key in an emergency number. But it was no good. When he kicked my arm, I dropped the phone.

  ‘Ow! Jesus!’

  I didn’t stand a chance. He pounced on the phone while I was still rubbing my wrist. By this time the whole house was shaking from the impact of a heavy, urgent footfall. Someone was thundering down the hallway.

  ‘Who did you call?’ Sergio demanded shrilly. ‘Who was it?’

  And then Danny burst into the room.

  His face and bare chest were still smeared with dry blood. His raincoat flapped out behind him like bat’s wings. He was big and filthy and covered in scars, and the whites of his eyes were tomato-red. Around his ankles swarmed a pack of barking, baying dogs.

  But he wasn’t carrying his gun, for some reason.

  ‘who did you call?’ he bellowed. ‘Huh? huh?’