Blood on the Rocks Chapter 19
As the world went up in flames around him, Frank tumbled down into the creek bed with Rebecca McFadden, landing with his face in the water. He hauled himself to sitting, feeling for broken bits. Beside him Mac stirred. Frank crawled over to her and helped her sit up, an arm around her shoulders.
‘Geez, Diamond,’ she said, her voice cracking, ‘what have you gone and done now?’
Frank started laughing helplessly, lost for anything to say.
‘You are so weird,’ said Mac, and struggled to her feet. Frank leapt up to steady her as she almost fell. ‘Far out,’ she said, bending over, ‘I feel crook.’
She turned away and vomited. Frank went to rub her back, like he’d seen people do in movies, but she waved him away.
‘Gross,’ she said, croaking and spitting. He wasn’t sure whether she meant vomiting, or him touching her. Either way he was happy to have her conscious, seemingly unharmed and feisty as ever. As she splashed some water over her face Frank gave her a quick catch-up on events.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘We-ell,’ he replied, uncertain. ‘We could wait here for back-up, but I don’t know… Alternate is we get up to the house and keep an eye. I’ve got a bad feeling about what Dalton is planning for Gaz and the Gasman.’
‘And you care?’ asked Mac, frowning. Frank shrugged.
‘Not per se…ah, it’s just the job…you can wait here…you’ve been through a–’
‘God, Diamond,’ Mac replied, sighing. ‘I don’t even know what per se means, but no way am letting you go alone and have all the fun. Come on, stop standing there like a long, tall streak of misery: if we’re going, we better go.’
What was left of the shed was well on fire as they made a path through the shadows, skirting the blaze, stepping over debris. They headed up the track towards the house, stopping regularly to listen. No voices, no sirens: back up was taking its time.
At the clearing to Dalton’s house they stopped and circled around through the bush. As they drew adjacent to the front yard Dalton came striding out the front door, shouting, a pistol in his hand. A pistol that looked remarkably like a police issue Glock.
‘Gaz, fuckin’ Gaz!’ shouted Dalton. ‘I’m gunna kill you, you sorry bastard!’ This last expletive was drawn out like a roar and Dalton took off running down the front drive. Frank and Mac exchanged a glance, before breaking cover to follow in pursuit.
At the cottage near the drive they heard Dalton again and trod carefully towards his voice, peering around the corner of the little house. Gaz stood a few metres away with his back to them, arms raised, while Dalton held the gun on him, screaming obscenities.
‘She’s not dead! And Diamond’s not dead! And I have half the Coffs Harbour cops headed my way! And it’s all your stupid, bungling dumb-arsed fault!’
‘Boss,’ said Gaz, his tone low, pleading. ‘Boss, it’s not that bad, really…the car’s close by, Gasman tracked it.’
‘No it’s fucking not! She’s at the cop shop pouring her little heart out with bloody Clyde. The car can’t be here!’
‘It is boss, look–’ Gaz held up the mobile. ‘It’s next door.’ He tossed the phone to Dalton’s feet. Dalton bent down slowly to pick it up, not taking the gun off Gaz.
‘So what’s it doing there when she’s at the cop shop – I know she is cause Henderson called me. Christ!’ Dalton paused a moment as the truth dawned on him. ‘You dickhead, you imbecile, you moron! That means Diamond has the car…’ He raised the gun at Gaz, taking careful aim. ‘That means–’
‘Diamond is here,’ said Frank, stepping calmly in to the group. ‘Put the gun down Steve, before you make it worse for yourself. Back up will be here soon.’ As if on cue, the sound of wailing sirens became discernible above the cicadas.
‘Ha! Diamond, you bastard. Everything was fine until you came along. Gaz, grab him.’
Gaz did not move.
‘Grab him! Do as you are fucking told or so help me I’ll shoot you both!’
He raised the gun again. Frank stepped forward, hand outstretched.
‘Steve, we can talk…’ The sirens grew louder, blue lights starting to reflect off the foliage of the trees surrounding them.
‘It’s too late for talking, Diamond, fuck you!’ Dalton clenched the Glock in both hands and swung it to point at Frank, his eyes glazed. He fired, and as he did Frank felt the force of someone tackling him from the side, kicking his legs from beneath him with expert precision. Dalton screamed in fury, firing at random, bullets seeming to be everywhere. Frank rolled and crouched, then ran at Dalton, seeing Gaz on the ground. But before he could tackle him Dalton stopped, a look of surprise on his face, then crumpled, dropping to his knees, falling face down into the dirt.
Frank looked around for the source of the bullet that had just blown a hole in Dalton’s chest the size of a fist. The Gasman was standing six metres away, where Gaz lay, Frank’s gun in his hands.
‘Gasman,’ Frank said, ‘drop the gun.’
Gasman dropped the gun and fell to his knees beside Gaz’s inert body. Frank scrambled over.
‘There’s a pulse,’ he said, feeling the man’s neck, taking the gun. ‘Roll him over. Put your hand there, hold it hard,’ he instructed a white, shocked Gasman. ‘Mac, grab my phone, call an ambulance…Mac?’
He received no response. Frank looked around to find Rebecca McFadden lying with the blue-heeler pup licking her face, while she bled out beneath the stars.