When Marcus Anderson grabs me, I scream.
Screaming is okay, y’know. Screaming is a perfectly acceptable response to the last four hours of nightmare.
If you’re being attacked, scream,Dad used to say.There’s nothing wrong with screaming. It disorients your attacker and lets people know something bad is happening.
Something bad is happening. I scream as Harris cries out, as Ando yanks me towards him and pushes Harris back. I scream as the big boss, Leon, winces and gives the gun back to his minder. I keep screaming until Ando slaps me.
But don’t waste your energy, either,Dad says in my head.If screaming doesn’t bring help, use your strength.
I fling my head back around and bite Ando’s hand. Blood bursts in my mouth.
‘Fuckingbitch!’ he yells. He shakes me off and I go sprawling.
Harris has turned, all the bruises standing out from his golden paleness, every muscle in his body tense as he faces off with Leon. ‘You’re trusting the wrong person. Ando was in Tulane Road –’
He’s cut off when Ando smashes a punch into his face. Harris staggers, drops.
‘Shut your fucking mouth!’ Ando bellows. He punches Harris again – I scramble onto all fours as I hear Harris groan. Ando turns to Leon. ‘He’s a fucking liar. And he’s desperate. He’d say anything –’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Leon says tonelessly. ‘All this fuss over a piece of skirt.’ But he’s looking at Ando in a different way as he lights a cigarette. He blows smoke at the roof of the shed. ‘When you get to Melbourne, disappear for a while. I’ll pay you now so there’s no issues. Put them all in the van. No –’ He holds up a hand as Ando opens his mouth. ‘Whatever happens at the saltworks is up to you. But she rides in the van.’
It’s the minder who takes us outside – me first, then Harris, still half-dazed. When I stumble out of the shed, the night is so black it’s like I’ve had my eyes cut out. The van is a white delivery unit with double doors. There’s a row of stainless steel shelving inside on the right, and the only place to sit is on the cold metal floor. Leon’s minder dumps the rolled-up tarp with Snowie’s body near the door of the van. Then the doors close and we’re lost in darkness.
‘Amie?’
I think I’m in shock. I can’t say anything for a second. Something brushes my hand and I jump.
‘Amie, it’s me. It’s okay, it’s me.’ Harris’s voice sounds thick and rumbling. There’s movement in the darkness. Warm hands cover mine, I’m being pulled against a warm chest, warm arms come down around me. ‘I got you,’ he croons. ‘It’s okay, I got you.’
A weird high-pitched noise comes out of my throat and is swallowed up by the sound of the van’s engine chugging to life. The van vibrates around us. I’m vibrating in Harris’s arms, shaking so much I think I’m going to be sick. I cough and cry and wipe my mouth against the fabric of his T-shirt, trying to get rid of the taste of Marcus Anderson’s blood.
‘Oh god. Oh Jesus.’ I keep my eyes closed, because the blackness behind my eyelids is somehow better than the blackness inside the van. There’s a series of jolts as the van starts to move. ‘Ando’s going to…he said he’s –’
‘That,’ Harris states, ‘isnevergonna happen.’
A shudder runs through my whole body.
‘Come on, babe,’ Harris whispers. ‘Come on. We’ll fight together.’
‘I don’t know why I’m crying,’ I gasp out. ‘You’re the one who got tortured. Oh god, Harris, you told me…you told me about your world, and I thought I knew, but I… Oh Jesus –’
‘Shh,’ Harris says. He hugs me close.
‘How did you handle all this?’ I whisper. ‘Every single day –’
‘You,’ he says simply. ‘I had you.’
I curl in his arms, press my face into his neck. I want to kiss him, but I know his mouth is sore from the way he’s talking. Now I want a light in here so I can see what’s been done to him, help if I can.
‘I have to stop crying.’ I dash my face against my tied hands. ‘We don’t have time for that. We have to get out of here. And I’m bloody sick of this baling twine.’
Harris snorts. ‘Now you mention it…’
I duck under where I think his arms are, manage to bump my nose on his elbow. ‘Shit. Ow. We need a light. Is there a light in here? Do you have matches?’
‘Light’s busted. I saw that when Mick put me in. And Ando turned out my pockets,’ Harris admits. ‘I got nothing.’
I sigh with frustration. ‘Right. Well, this is the first time I’ve ever wished I was a smoker.’
