The phone was chirping at her, incessantly. Alison couldn’t figure out where she was; the ceiling pressed on her, rusty swirls of metal closing in on her skull, which felt like it was knocking on the space around her, each movement a pounding inside her head, bruising her brain and making her wince with every turn. The way the room seemed to appear and disappear as she tried to focus made her sure she was still drunk. The sun was up? No, the light was on. The phone was still going. She groped for it. The ringing stopped as her fingertips found it. The missed call was from Gil. Shit. Had she locked the door before she passed out? Her head started to clear up. It was 4 a.m. The phone bleeped again, a text this time. She opened it. It was a picture, of Billy’s police name tag.
come get him
She didn’t know how to process it. He had Billy? How stupid was he? A cop? He had a fucking cop?
He’s a fucking cop. What the fuck are you doing?
if you don’t come this pig is bacon
She should call Detective Mitchell. She should do anything other than what Gil wanted. But she couldn’t risk it. Billy mattered. Billy was one of the few fucking things left that mattered.
Where?
same place you fucked him pigfucker
Had he watched them the night after the fire? Seen her so vulnerable and messed up and mean? Why hadn’t he tried to grab her then? On the walk back to Sal’s. No, he must have seen her the second time. Been waiting for her to get back from Cairns. Watched them in the kitchen, that second messy, stupid attempt to feel anything good. Anything at all. Snap out of it.
Alison pulled on her shoes, rushed out of the room and down to the car park, found Billy’s car there, where he’d left it. She knew he kept a key taped under the bumper, just in case. Felt around a bit until she found it. Unlocked the car and hit the road, past the roundabout, down the street, driving too fast to be quiet, but she didn’t care. There was no light in the sky yet, no birds chirping on the breeze, just the utter darkness of country midnights and the feeling of an uncontrollable itch on her skin, the panic seeping out of her through her pores. It wasn’t far, but it felt like it was taking forever to get there—how long does it take to get somewhere when you really need to? Longer than you’d ever like.
The familiar silhouette of his house began to emerge in the distance. No lights were on, no signs of any disturbance. Did Gil snatch Billy up as he walked from the pub? How did he do it? Billy hadn’t seemed that drunk. She swung into the drive, the headlights briefly illuminating the front of the house, the shape of the car reflected in the windows.
She parked on the front lawn, got out of the car, started moving toward the house. Suddenly she felt an arm snake around her face, clamp down on her mouth, another one across her stomach. Gil. He’d been waiting for her.
“Well, you made it in record time. Don’t worry, lover boy is fine. He’s missing a name tag, left it in his car while he was at the pub. You think I’m dumb enough to fuck with a cop?” He laughed then, began dragging Alison toward the tree line at the edge of Billy’s place. She squirmed, tried to get free, but he was too strong; he was always too strong. She decided to preserve her energy instead, let him wear himself out dragging her like a sack of potatoes through the bush. They continued like that for long enough that the sun was beginning to peek through. She didn’t know how this would end. She didn’t want to know.
Eventually he was too tired to keep moving. They stopped by the creek; he’d stuck close to it. Alison was surprised he’d been smart enough to think to take a route that was equally easy to backtrack and difficult for dogs to track, with them mostly tramping through the shallows. He pushed her to the ground, then, still holding on to her tight, wound tape around her wrists.
“Don’t scream. I will gag you if you do.”
“What are you doing, Gil?”
“We need to have a little talk and you weren’t making that easy for me, so I decided to make it happen.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Yes, you do, darlin’. You have my tapes. I want them back.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Even if I did have them, what are you afraid of?”
“Simone wanted to put me in jail.”
“I just want to be left alone. You leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone.” The tape on her hands was too tight. It made her wrists throb and her palms swell and she couldn’t help but show the pain on her face.
“We can’t reach an agreement as long as you’ve got something that’s dangerous to me.”
“What’s dangerous? Simone’s dead; she can’t press charges, can she?”
“You’re not.” He looked at her with an intensity that was unsettling. The same blankness to his stare that he would get before he hit her.
But she didn’t think he meant to kill her. Not without whatever it was he wanted from her. He had the laptop. Wasn’t that enough?
“What do you want, Gil? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
“I want every copy of every tape Simone gave you.”
“You’ve got my laptop. The police have the tapes of Simone already. I can’t unring that bell.”
“How do I know you’re not holding out on me?” He was sweating from the rising heat of the day, the exertion of dragging her all this way, the sun that beat down on them now, in this stripped-back bush blackened and exposed. Alison couldn’t be sure, but she thought they must be close to the top of the ridge.
“What are you really worried about?”
He watched her closely. “You sure you only got the videos of Simone?” It was a question laced with hope, and his eagerness surprised her. You’re missing something. What was it Simone had written in the note? Make sure you watch them all the way through. She’d dismissed it, but now it seemed clear that Gil was worried she had something really damaging.
“Undo this, would you? I’m not going anywhere and it fucking hurts.” Alison could tell he was confident he had the power, so he leaned over and ripped the tape off. While she’d been sitting there Alison had noticed a large rock to her left, within easy reaching distance. Before he had a chance to move out of her range, she reached for it, clasped it hard in her hand, brought it high, and smacked it into the side of his head. The sound was a sickening thud, a crack that betrayed the force she hadn’t intentionally wielded.
Alison felt panic rising in her. She had never hit anyone like that. Gil’s whole body went slack and he slumped over, face in the dirt. Shit. Her hands felt heavy around the rock. There was no sign of him on it, no hair or blood, and she clung to the idea that she couldn’t have hit him that hard. She dropped it, and dropped to her knees next to him. Turned him, felt for a pulse; it was there. Her hand above his lips felt the moist reassurance of his breath. She saw no blood on his head. It occurred to her that if he woke up he would still be bigger and stronger than her. And they were still in the middle of nowhere. She remembered the tape. He’d stuffed it somewhere on his person. She gingerly began to pat him down. Alison found the tape in his pocket, wrapped it around his wrists and his ankles, lay him on his side so he wouldn’t choke, and checked that he was breathing.
Now the fuck what? Her phone was still in her pocket. He was so fucking confident she wasn’t a match for him. It enraged her. She wanted to leave him there, in the bush, never tell anyone she’d seen him that day, just walk away and never have to worry about him again. But she knew she had to turn him in. The phone had no reception. She should have known it wouldn’t be this easy. All the fear and adrenaline welled up inside her. She doubled over with it, heaved it onto the ground. Gin and salt-and-vinegar chips mixed with spit and mucus and gut juices mingled with the dirt on the ground.
She waded into the creek, splashed water on her face, swished some of it around in her cheeks, the taint of ash on her palate. She didn’t swallow. Gil twitched a little where he lay. She sat in the dirt outside of his space, waited for him to come to. The sun shifted higher in the sky. Her phone said it was past nine. He had a bag with him, and Alison opened it. Her laptop, a gun, a bottle of water, his wallet, some muesli bars. She peeled the wrapper off one and ate it. She was halfway through it when she heard him thrashing around. She turned to look at him; the rage in his eyes—she wouldn’t forget it.
He was straining against the tape, and she didn’t know if she’d done it tight enough or thick enough. She could feel the thump of her heart and the dry of her mouth and the ring in her ears. “Fucking hell, Alison, what are you gonna do now? Kill me? You don’t have it in you.”
He was right, but she didn’t want him to know it. She reached into his bag and pulled out the gun. “Where the hell did you get this?” It was a pistol, small and light, six bullets in the cylinder. She cocked it, aimed it in his direction.
“Put the gun down, Alison, you’re not a killer.” He sounded a lot less sure of himself. The light caught the gun and it sparkled, glinting rays reflecting onto her skin. She thought about her options.
“The way I see it, you probably shouldn’t be telling me what to do about anything, what with me being the one with the gun and all.” She moved closer to him and enjoyed it when he flinched a little.
“Have I ever told you about how Dad used to take me to the shooting range? Said, in the bush you’ve got to know how to handle a rifle. We’d spend a little time there every few months from when I was fourteen. One day, on the way home we came upon a roo that’d been hit by a car. It was slumped by the side of the road, barely breathing. You ever hit a kangaroo? They’re all muscle. Thick skin, big buggers. Takes a lot to kill them. This one must have been hit by a ute or something with a big front grille. He was in a really bad way. No chance he’d live, but he wasn’t dying quick.
“So my dad, he gets the rifle out, and he comes over. And I watch him, not wanting to believe what was about to happen was about to happen. I asked him not to. But he shot it clean between the eyes, and then he turned to me and he said, ‘Sometimes, Alison, the best thing to do is take a life,’ and I can still remember the way that kangaroo looked. How it felt to watch someone use a gun for its intended purpose. I wouldn’t go to the range with him after that. I didn’t want to make it normal. I always wanted to remember how wrong it felt.”
“You trying to scare me?”
“No. I’m simply explaining to you that I know how to shoot, and if I have to, I will.” She didn’t know what her plan was, but Alison didn’t want to kill Gil. She didn’t want to kill anyone. The gun felt heavy in her hand. She slung his backpack over her shoulder. “Here’s what I think we should do. I think we should part ways here, forever. I won’t shoot you, and you will back the fuck off and leave me and every person I care about the hell alone.”
Gil laughed. “And why would I do that?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll give the police all the tapes I have. The ones of me included.”
He went pale. “You just said you didn’t have any of you.”
“That was before I was the one holding the gun. I can tell you really don’t want them to see them, and honestly neither do I. I’d rather forget all of this and live my goddamn life in peace. But if you won’t let me do that, then I guess I’ll have to hand them in.”
“If you do have them and you let me go, what’s to stop me coming and getting them?”
“Self-preservation? You’ve always been big on that.” Alison knew a bargain was a risk, but she was out of options and he did seem genuinely afraid of the police getting hold of the tapes of him and her.
“Say I was to entertain this little proposal of yours. How would it work?”
“You say you’ll fuck off and never come back and then I will let you walk away from me right here, right now.”
He looked around. Looked at her. Nodded slowly. “All right.”
She stepped up to him, cut the tape on his ankles, and helped him stand up. He held out his hands for her, and she carefully slit the tape, holding her breath in fear. When the tape was loose, she jumped out of his reach and held the gun on him. He smirked at her.
“Deal’s a deal. I’m out of here, you crazy bitch.” He turned and began to walk away from her, in the opposite direction from where they had come, farther up the incline. She stood there watching him; she was still holding the gun, thinking she must be crazy. He would never give up this easily; she knew it. He would come back, and she wouldn’t have a gun, and he’d probably kill her. He probably killed Simone too; there was no proof, just gut feeling, but he could be capable of anything—this had proved it. He scrambled over some rocks and stood for a moment on top. “Bloody beautiful up here, you know, even now.” As he spoke, he turned toward her, and Alison instinctively raised the gun again. He laughed, mock raised his hands. “Don’t shoot me, I’m innocent!”
The words dug into her. Clawed at her skin. She screamed, louder than she’d ever screamed in her life, and it startled him. He stepped backward, and the brush he put his weight on crumpled and cracked. His foot found only air, and he lost his bearings. As she watched, Alison saw him fumble a little, and sway a lot, and then tumble backward, off the rock and out of sight. She heard him scream now, and then an unmistakable thump and nothing, nothing at all in the desiccated bush.
She rushed toward the spot where he had been moments before. Climbed up onto the large rock and looked behind it. It gave way, not immediately, but within a few steps, to a steep drop. She saw the slick of disturbed ground—what looked like drag marks—where Gil must have slid down the slope to the edge. She carefully picked her way to the edge and peered over. It was a deep, narrow ravine. She noticed a thatch of brittle, broken branches that Gil had crashed through, exposing the ravine. He couldn’t have known it wasn’t solid ground. She could see him at the bottom. Eyes open, blood everywhere, skull cracked like an egg; he was groaning.
He wasn’t dead. Relieved and terrified, Alison tried to think what she should do. She started to panic. She had his gun, his bag. What if they thought she had pushed him? She pulled the bag from her back, grabbed her laptop out of it, and, without thinking, threw the bag into the ravine. It landed on top of him and he cried out at the weight of it. He began to dry retch, and Alison thought for a moment she should go, get help. The stripped, blackened bush took on an alien appearance. There was nothing here to help her; she wasn’t going to risk her life for his. She backed away and climbed back over the rock. Threw the gun into the creek and ran, ran as fast as she could, as far away as she could from Gil and the ravine and the secrets it held.