Chapter 29

Jeremy paced back and forth in the car park of the football ground, his breath visible under the spotlights that bathed a bright light across the oval, even though he himself was cast in shadow. He was dressed entirely in black, just as Mickey had instructed. Black hoodie, black jeans and black sneakers. Jeremy felt that he stood out like a sore thumb and though there was no one who could see him from this distance, he feared being discovered eventually.

He checked his watch. Acid fountained in the back of his throat.

He had told himself over and over that he was ready. He had gone over the scenario in his mind, remembering the reconnaissance they’d conducted. They had watched Baxter. They had tracked his movements from the gym, to a twenty-four hour grocery store that he frequented every Thursday night on his way home and finally to Baxter’s home itself—a smart, suburban town house in a fashionable estate. He was nothing if not a creature of habit. Predictable and thus foolish.

Gavin, Mickey, Spider, Jabba and Jeremy discussed their plan at length. They decided upon using an armed hold-up on the grocery store itself as a cover. They would take Baxter’s keys and steal his precious BMW. Jeremy as part of his test would accompany Spider and execute the hold up. Gavin and Jabba would stand by in the Monaro and Mickey would be the one to drive the BMW. Members of Baner’s gang would be positioned in an industrial estate near the deli and ready to take possession of the car. The hit would be fast, casualty-free and remunerative.

The BMW’s value was considerable—so Jeremy understood—and the financial reward they were set to receive was lucrative.

It all sounded so simple. Hit and fade quickly.

So why did Jeremy feel so sick?

This was the moment he had been waiting for—the chance to prove himself by being the one to take the leading role in a job. All these long months of waiting were about to be rewarded…

…But other thoughts intruded on these ones.

Thoughts of his fractured family taunted Jeremy from the edges, knocking him off balance and feeding his conflict.

There were images of Ruby, betrayed yet again by his broken promise, especially now that she was on the cusp of participating in something that could shape her future.

He was tormented by images of Asher. Dear, sweet Asher who, of all of them, had suffered the most because of their father and had been broken because of him. She too had depended on Jeremy to protect her from their father so many times.

And his brother Minty—too young yet to understand the violence he routinely witnessed all around him. His fragile innocence could only withstand so much of the hurt before he also fell victim to it and became as damaged as he and Asher were.

All of these images and feelings and thoughts swirled around in Jeremy’s mind forming a vortex that clashed with his desire to ascend in Gavin’s gang.

And then…

The familiar rumble of the engine. The headlights that stabbed through the darkness of the car park. The familiar shape of the muscle car.

Gavin’s Monaro rolled up to where Jeremy was standing, stopping mere inches from him.

Jeremy squinted in the headlights, unable to detect any movement from inside. As he rounded to the passenger side, the door snapped open and Mickey stepped out, greeting Jeremy with a blank stare. Jeremy stepped forward. Mickey handed him a black woollen ski mask then shifted the passenger seat forward.

Jeremy entered the car and settled in beside Jabba who, as usual, scowled at him disgustedly. They were all similarly attired in black clothing. The air in the Monaro was thick with tension. No one acknowledged him as Gavin gunned the engine and drove out onto the street. Before long they were motoring down the highway toward the gymnasium, toward Baxter, toward Jeremy’s fate—whatever that was.

Jabba handed Jeremy a bulky object wrapped in black cloth. A shiver of electricity passed through him, immediately sensing what it was. His stomach plunged as his hands clasped the cold metal of the handgun and as he unwrapped the cloth, he gulped at the semi automatic berretta.

Jabba abruptly slapped his arm down and snarled at him.

“Don’t point that thing at me, idiot! Jesus Christ.”

Gavin craned his neck around, momentarily taking his eyes off the road to glower maniacally at Jeremy.

Jeremy’s mouth went dry.

“Y-you never said anything about guns,” he croaked.

Both Jabba, Gavin and Spider, who had leaned forward from his position beside Jabba and in doing so revealed the barrel of a sawn off shotgun, blinked at Jeremy incredulously.

“What’d you think we were gonna hold up the all nighter with? Fucking tooth brushes?” Jabba spat harshly, slapping Jeremy in the side of his head with his elbow hard enough that Jeremy saw stars.

Jabba shook his head.

“Gav—this turd isn’t up for this. He’s gonna screw it royally the minute we get there”.

“He won’t,” Gavin responded malevolently. “He knows what will happen if this all goes south.”

“I don’t trust him, Gav,” Jabba retorted. “He’s a douche, a stupid douche and he’s gonna sink us.”

“I don’t either,” Spider added then. “I told you he hasn’t got the balls for this.”

“Right!” Gavin thundered, causing everyone to jump in their seats. “Everyone just shut the fuck up and get your shit together. Everyone knows what they’ve gotta do alright?”

He whirled his head around to face Jeremy again.

“And by Christ, you especially better have your shit together you little fuck, because if this does go wrong, I will feed you to the pigs myself. Understand?”

Jeremy sank back in his seat, trying to create space between him and Jabba which was virtually impossible.

The feeling in the Monaro was darker than Jeremy had ever anticipated. His conflict returned and, this time, Jeremy could not push it away. Everything felt as if were spinning out of control. Their animosity toward him was clear.

Up ahead, Mickey pointed to a line of brightly lit shop fronts, situated just off the main highway. One of them, a building that stood out from the others, was a gymnasium.

“Here we are boys,” he announced.

Gavin slowed down and turned into the busy complex, idling along past a line of cars as he and Mickey scanned them all for Baxter’s sleek navy BMW convertible, which they expected to be parked in front of the gym.

Mickey extended his finger silently, touching it to the glass. Following its line, Gavin squinted through the windshield until his eyes fell across the familiar shape of the BMW Z3 Roadster.

They’d timed it perfectly.

“Okay, boys,” he said, checking his watch and pulling the Monaro into a newly vacant parking space. “We’re live.”

They didn’t have long to wait. A mere five minutes passed before Stephen Baxter emerged from the entrance to the brightly lit fitness centre and crossed the thoroughfare, unlocking the car with his remote.

“Here we go.”

Gavin started the engine and edged the Monaro forward, waiting for Baxter to start his own car and reverse out. They all watched as the BMW idled slowly towards the exit of the shopping centre and once Gavin was satisfied there was enough distance between them, he too pulled out into the traffic.

Jeremy watched as Mickey and Gavin kept scanning the traffic around them, making sure they didn’t get caught behind another vehicle and lose Baxter. Jabba shuffled his huge frame in the middle while Spider, as usual, was dozing.

Entering onto the highway, they kept Baxter’s car in sight, hanging back just enough so as not to be detected by Baxter.

“First turn up ahead,” Mickey said, acting as Gavin’s guide, even though he didn’t need it.

Predictably, Baxter signalled his intention to turn left and Gavin followed suit.

Abruptly, Jabba reached over and snatched the handgun away from Jeremy. Inspecting it, he checked the magazine and the chamber, then held it up in front of Jeremy, pointing at the safety.

“Safe… Ready,” he grunted, moving the switch back and forth. “Understand?”

Jeremy nodded hastily as Jabba shoved it back into his palm.

“Five minutes,” Mickey announced stonily, gesturing to Jabba to nudge Spider.

Jabba elbowed him and Spider instantly snapped to attention, shaking his head and readying the shotgun in his arms.

Jeremy watched as all four of them pulled their ski masks down and massaged them into position. Suddenly, they had taken on a dark and menacing presence which turned Jeremy’s blood cold. Fresh beads of sweat broke across his forehead. His heart thumped loudly. Looking down at the weapon in his hands, Jeremy felt those hands begin to shake.

Jabba looked over at Jeremy and shook his head in disgust.

“Pull your ski mask down!” he snarled.

Fear began to pulse through Jeremy and an awful realisation began to dawn on him.

They all hated him.

He would never gain an equal standing in this gang. He’d struggled for months for a place among them and, in all likelihood, he would always struggle. They’d used him before. They were using him now. Using him to carry out this brazen attack and, if push came to shove, they would hang him out to dry.

The words of his grandmother echoed somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind.

‘You are the kuyeta—the first-born son of this family.’ She’d balled her fist and tapped it to her chest, over her heart.

Images of his father obliterated Virginia’s words momentarily as his leering face pushed itself into the centre of his mind’s eye, cackling at him, filling him with hatred. The turmoil threatened to engulf him and he grappled desperately to focus on something that would keep him from losing his grip. Jeremy held his father’s face there, using it to fuel his own hatred of him, while Virginia’s voice continued to cut through.

‘You will always have a place…you will never be alone.’

Up ahead the lights of a smaller complex of shops came into view and both Gavin and Mickey held their collective breaths as they watched for Baxter’s indicator light to flash.

Time slowed to a crawl as they watched.

The right hand indicator light of the BMW flashed orange and Baxter turned into the complex.

“Game faces boys,” Gavin grunted.

The Monaro slowed. Jeremy pulled the ski mask down over his face, feeling the wetness of his tears smudge his cheeks before they were absorbed into the wool.

The Monaro swung right and bounced into the complex, issuing sparks as metal struck concrete. Gavin braked alongside the BMW directly in front of the all night grocery store and threw open his door while Mickey did the same.

Jeremy leaped from the vehicle, the handgun raised in a two-handed grip as he fell in behind Spider, who had the menacing sawn off shotgun angled down in his right hand, only bringing it up as he stormed through the entrance to the store.

Virginia’s voice echoed once more.

You belong boy…

Spider flicked his head to his right as he entered, scoping the checkout that was manned by a teen-aged girl who was barely fifteen years old. Pointing the shotgun directly at her, he scanned the small shop, identifying three customers, including Baxter, who was standing near the dairy fridge along the rear wall of the store. The others were spread out in different aisles, which only rose as high as their chests.

Jabbing his finger outward to give Jeremy a bead on each of them, Spider lurched toward the panicked checkout girl, flicking his eyes up and identifying the security camera above her head. Shotgun raised, he promptly blew it apart with a single shot which boomed throughout the store.

Baxter and the others panicked and instantly dropped to the floor as Spider screamed at the checkout girl to open the register, flinging a bag at her. The girl, whimpering in unadulterated terror, stepped forward, reaching for the panic switch under the counter when Spider fired a second shot a few feet from her shoulder, the pellets peppering the wall behind her.

“Open that fucking register now!”

Jeremy rounded the aisle closest to him making a bee line for Baxter, who lay prone on the floor, his hands spread out beside him, breathing fast and shallow.

Jeremy’s heart pounded so loudly, that Spider’s screams came to him as a disembodied echo. He felt so nauseous that he thought he would vomit.

Images continued flashing at him, tormenting him and he struggled to contain his tears.

His father, his mother, Asher, Minty…

Furiously wiping at his eyes, Jeremy stepped over a terrified elderly Asian woman who screamed. Raising the berretta in his hands, Jeremy pointed it at Baxter’s head.

Baxter blinked at the black clad figure who approached him, the muzzle of the weapon aimed directly at him.

“Keys!” Jeremy rasped, disguising his voice as best he could.

Baxter’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He remained still.

“Keys!” Jeremy screamed again, stopping just a few feet from Baxter and shifting on the spot, agitated.

Baxter craned his neck slightly, trying to get a better look at his assailant when Jeremy lurched forward, slamming the muzzle of the gun into the side of Baxter’s face. He leaned in close, close enough that Baxter could feel his breath on his stinging cheek.

“G-give me your fucking keys!”

Slowly, Baxter moved his hand down toward the pocket of his gym shorts, pausing as he fished around inside for the BMW keys.

“You do this and you’re dead,” Baxter hissed shakily, his jaw stinging against the cold steel of the weapon as he turned his head defiantly, looking into the eyes the thug hovering over him. “You realise that, don’t you?”

His grandmother’s wise old eyes. Ruby’s face, filled with hurt…

Though he did not recognise Jeremy under the ski mask, Baxter could see that, whoever it was, the youth was an Aboriginal.

Baxter sneered as he tossed the keys in front of Jeremy.

“You useless black fuck.”

Spider glared incredulously in Jeremy’s direction and howled.

“What are you doing?! Get the fucking keys!!”

At that moment, something snapped inside of Jeremy; he felt himself shatter like a pane of glass. The images he’d fought so hard to hold back surged forth like a torrent from a broken dam and his mind collapsed underneath. A single realisation cut through the maelstrom.

Whenever there had been conflict within his family, whenever his father had wrought his destruction upon them, Jeremy had stepped in and taken the brunt of it to shield Asher and Ruby and Minty from worst of it. Time and time again, Jeremy had put himself in harm’s way for them and he had, for better or worse, prevailed. He had protected them. And maybe that was what he was always meant to do. That was his role, his identity.

To be a protector.

Calmly pocketing the keys, Jeremy leaned in close to Baxter again and whispered quietly in his ear.

“Stay down. Don’t move.”

His eyes filling with hatred, Jeremy rose, lifting the gun and aiming it directly at Spider.

“What the fuck…”

As Spider lifted the shotgun, he felt himself lifted off his feet and thrust backward like a rag doll as Jeremy fired two shots in quick succession. One of them slammed into Spider’s left shoulder, spraying a large spatter of blood across the wall behind him. The other projectile buried itself deep into his upper thigh, glancing off the side of his bone, causing it to split in two.

As Spider crumpled to the floor, screaming in pain, Jeremy barked at the terrorised checkout.

“Call the police now!”

Kicking the shotgun away from Spider, Jeremy strode toward the exit and burst from the doorway.

Inside the Monaro Gavin and Jabba’s eyes bugged out at exactly the same time. Mickey, who was waiting beside the BMW, dove for cover as Jeremy raised the gun and fired directly into the windshield. Over and over again, he squeezed the trigger, shattering the glass, raining bullets over Gavin’s head, who’d barely managed to duck down out of the line of fire. Jabba wasn’t so lucky. A bullet passed neatly through his earlobe, obliterating it in an instant before shattering the rear windshield behind him.

Squealing like a stuck pig, Jabba grabbed at his bloodied ear while Gavin desperately started the car, flipped it into reverse and stomped on the accelerator pedal. The Monaro fish tailed, careening backward and smashing through the darkened shop front of a hair dresser behind it.

Jeremy, stepped around the front of the BMW, finding Mickey cowering against the door.

Mickey looked up at Jeremy with an expression that registered something akin to shock and he raised his hands desperately.

“Don’t do it,” he rasped.

Jeremy just stood there, silent and unmoving.

Mickey backed away slowly, and sensing that Jeremy was faltering, he turned and bolted toward the Monaro as it jumped forward, tyres squealing as it retreated from the car park.

Mickey scratched desperately at the door of the Monaro, screaming to be let in as it tore away from him leaving him stranded in the middle of the street.

A siren wailed in the distance, drawing closer. Several dogs barked from the yards of nearby houses.

Jeremy watched as Mickey disappeared from view into the night. He turned and marched back into the store.

Spider was writhing on the floor, screaming in pain, an ever widening pool of blood fanning out underneath his ruined leg.

“What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK?!” he wailed.

Jeremy walked up and stood over the top of Spider, gazing dispassionately down on him for a long moment as he screamed and clawed impotently at his injuries. Without warning, Jeremy struck out with his foot kicking Spider hard in the side of his head, instantly rendering him unconscious and bringing quiet to the store.

The distant siren grew ever closer.

Wiping the handgun quickly with the material of his hoodie, Jeremy dropped it into Spider’s outstretched hand.

Ignoring the girl who was cowering behind the checkout, Jeremy walked over to where Baxter still lay on the floor. He took the car keys from his pocket and dropped them on the floor, mere inches from Baxter’s face.

“Police are coming; just stay calm until they get here.”

Outside, Baxter heard the screeching of tyres as patrol cars converged on the grocery store. As relief flooded through him, he saw the familiar blue and red glow flashing in the periphery of his vision.

He turned his head and opened his mouth to speak but the assailant was no longer there.

As police officers flooded through the entrance, Baxter risked lifting his head off the floor and scanned his immediate surroundings but he realised he was alone.

The assailant had disappeared.