a skeletal gantry tacked to one side, broken
windows staring out from the long cabin capping the tubes. There was nothing but dirt and mallee
trees for miles; the lights of Barlow's Siding made a faint corona on the horizon. The site had been
abandoned back before Kevin had left school, relegated to being a place to sink booze and get laid
and drag race. The council had erected a mesh fence, as if none of the country kids could use wire
cutters, and the sheds and silos were covered in graffiti and littered with the remains of camp
fires, beer bottles and used condoms. It was a Thursday night, school had just started for the year,
and he hoped to Christ that no-one was out here half cut and with their pants down. No-one other
than him, anyway.
Kala circled the building and parked where they couldn't be seen from the road. She killed the
motor and the headlights and the night came down, still and quiet under the cloudy highway of the
Milky Way, the half moon riding high. She sat, hands on the wheel, as though catching her breath.
She wore frayed jeans and a checked shirt open over an Iron Maiden singlet. At least she had good
taste in music. A silver crucifix dangled from her ear where her spiky short-back-and-sides failed
to reach. Her eyes were dark brown except at times when they caught the light in a funny way; they
got a sheen over them, a kind of icy red glaze that made Kevin think of an eagle or a leopard maybe.
That made him think of Hunter.
'Did you see anyone other than those women at your house; some suits, maybe?' she asked. 'Cops?'
He couldn't swallow. His heart shuddered; his lungs ached, airless. All he could see was Mira on
top of him. God, it was as if he was right back there again, pushing against her weight, hearing her
voice slicing into him like a harpoon:
You want to survive this, then you keep your mouth shut .
'No, nobody; just my family.'
'Lucky,' she said. 'Lucky your friends were there or you might have had a real unpleasant visit.
You'd be dead now, probably. Your mum too, maybe. They don't like loose ends.'
'I'm a loose end?'
'Don't worry. Your mum will be okay as long as she plays the game. It's you they would've
wanted.'
'What game? Who's they ?'
'We should go. Taipan will wanna tell you what's what.'
She took the key. A glint of silver; a Mexican key ring, one half sun, the other moon. It
disappeared into her palm, then into her jeans, her groin thrusting up toward the wheel as she
manoeuvred to slide the keys away. She gave a slight moan, the kind that comes from sitting in one
place too long, of muscles strained and joints locked.
That tiny sound electrified him from ear to crotch.
'Nice wheels,' he mumbled, for the sake of saying something, anything; afraid of the loaded
silence; afraid of the unintended sexuality of her action, of the constriction in his chest, of the
sudden and unexpected surge of lust stiffening his cock; ashamed that he could even notice something
like the tight cut of her jeans at a time like this, let alone get a hard-on because of it.
'It might not be the most sensible car to drive out here, but I just love it,' she said, patting
the vintage coupe's steering wheel with an affection that made him instantly jealous.
'Yours?'
'Black girl can't own a Monaro?' There was an edge to her voice.
'It's a classic,' he said. 'They don't make 'em like this any more.'
'No, no they don't.' Then, more gently, 'How are you doing?'
He cleared his throat. 'How do you think?' He rubbed his eyes and his face, crouched forward with
the weight of the confusion filling his skull.
'Take your time,' Kala said. 'You're safe here.' The light came on as she opened her door. 'I'll
go find Tai.'
Kevin could smell the abandonment; it drifted around him like smoke, filled the cabin, pressing
him down into the seat. Kevin sat for a moment trying to make sense of it all as the last of the
adrenalin drained from his muscles, leaving him exhausted. He fumbled for the door handle,
windows staring out from the long cabin capping the tubes. There was nothing but dirt and mallee
trees for miles; the lights of Barlow's Siding made a faint corona on the horizon. The site had been
abandoned back before Kevin had left school, relegated to being a place to sink booze and get laid
and drag race. The council had erected a mesh fence, as if none of the country kids could use wire
cutters, and the sheds and silos were covered in graffiti and littered with the remains of camp
fires, beer bottles and used condoms. It was a Thursday night, school had just started for the year,
and he hoped to Christ that no-one was out here half cut and with their pants down. No-one other
than him, anyway.
Kala circled the building and parked where they couldn't be seen from the road. She killed the
motor and the headlights and the night came down, still and quiet under the cloudy highway of the
Milky Way, the half moon riding high. She sat, hands on the wheel, as though catching her breath.
She wore frayed jeans and a checked shirt open over an Iron Maiden singlet. At least she had good
taste in music. A silver crucifix dangled from her ear where her spiky short-back-and-sides failed
to reach. Her eyes were dark brown except at times when they caught the light in a funny way; they
got a sheen over them, a kind of icy red glaze that made Kevin think of an eagle or a leopard maybe.
That made him think of Hunter.
'Did you see anyone other than those women at your house; some suits, maybe?' she asked. 'Cops?'
He couldn't swallow. His heart shuddered; his lungs ached, airless. All he could see was Mira on
top of him. God, it was as if he was right back there again, pushing against her weight, hearing her
voice slicing into him like a harpoon:
You want to survive this, then you keep your mouth shut .
'No, nobody; just my family.'
'Lucky,' she said. 'Lucky your friends were there or you might have had a real unpleasant visit.
You'd be dead now, probably. Your mum too, maybe. They don't like loose ends.'
'I'm a loose end?'
'Don't worry. Your mum will be okay as long as she plays the game. It's you they would've
wanted.'
'What game? Who's they ?'
'We should go. Taipan will wanna tell you what's what.'
She took the key. A glint of silver; a Mexican key ring, one half sun, the other moon. It
disappeared into her palm, then into her jeans, her groin thrusting up toward the wheel as she
manoeuvred to slide the keys away. She gave a slight moan, the kind that comes from sitting in one
place too long, of muscles strained and joints locked.
That tiny sound electrified him from ear to crotch.
'Nice wheels,' he mumbled, for the sake of saying something, anything; afraid of the loaded
silence; afraid of the unintended sexuality of her action, of the constriction in his chest, of the
sudden and unexpected surge of lust stiffening his cock; ashamed that he could even notice something
like the tight cut of her jeans at a time like this, let alone get a hard-on because of it.
'It might not be the most sensible car to drive out here, but I just love it,' she said, patting
the vintage coupe's steering wheel with an affection that made him instantly jealous.
'Yours?'
'Black girl can't own a Monaro?' There was an edge to her voice.
'It's a classic,' he said. 'They don't make 'em like this any more.'
'No, no they don't.' Then, more gently, 'How are you doing?'
He cleared his throat. 'How do you think?' He rubbed his eyes and his face, crouched forward with
the weight of the confusion filling his skull.
'Take your time,' Kala said. 'You're safe here.' The light came on as she opened her door. 'I'll
go find Tai.'
Kevin could smell the abandonment; it drifted around him like smoke, filled the cabin, pressing
him down into the seat. Kevin sat for a moment trying to make sense of it all as the last of the
adrenalin drained from his muscles, leaving him exhausted. He fumbled for the door handle,
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