hammer?'
'Huh?'
He nudged the spike. 'This isn't gonna put itself back in.'
'Cunt,' Taipan snarled.
Hunter holstered his gun, stood and fished a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. 'You get me a hammer, boy, and you - what's your name?'
'Thomas Matheson. This is my service station, and that's my son you're pointing that gun at.'
'Well, Tom, I'm gonna need a vehicle. The faster the better. What've you got?'
'I got a car. Up at the house.'
'So, the kid here gets me that hammer so I can secure my prisoner, and you get me the wheels. I'll see you're compensated.'
Kevin's father frowned then nodded for him to do as the cop said. 'I'll watch you secure your prisoner, and then I'll get you your wheels.'
Kevin ran into the garage - a lighter sparked behind him, sounding like a knife being sharpened - and returned with the first mallet he found. 'You really gonna hammer that thing back into him?'
'Fucking oath.' Hunter took a deep drag on his cigarette.
Taipan pulled himself into a sitting position. His sleeve slid back down.
Kevin stared at the man's arm, wishing he could see through the cloth. He'd glimpsed a thin blood trail, but he hadn't seen the gash. It was almost as if… But that couldn't be.
Hunter flicked ash and put his cigarette back in his mouth before gesturing to Kevin to hand over the mallet.
'Hear that?' Taipan said. 'That's your death comin'. Alla youse.'
'I don't hear nothin',' Kevin said.
Hunter cocked his head. 'Good set of ears, this bastard.' He nodded to himself. The dogs whined outside. 'It won't do you any good, Taipan.' He poised the stake over the biker's chest, then gave it an almighty whack.
Taipan jerked as the spike sank an inch into his chest. He spat blood across the cop's face. Hunter ignored it and brought the mallet down again. The biker spasmed once more, then lay still, eyes staring, a trickle of blood worming bright and viscous from the corner of his mouth. Hunter sat back, wiped his face with a handkerchief and tucked it back in his pants pocket. 'I need that car, sport. Kid, keep an eye on Dave for me.'
'Jesus,' Kevin said. 'Look at that.'
The injured cop was breathing regularly. Even had a bit of colour in his cheeks.
Kevin's father stepped closer to look and said, 'Just what in the hell is going on here?'
'Ah, crap.' Hunter walked over to the window.
'What's that noise?' Kevin said, hearing a low rumble. 'Bikes?'
Hunter motioned with the pistol for Kevin's father to move. 'The car, sport, quick now.'
'How about an explanation first?'
Kevin got a folded tarp and put it under the injured cop's head. The man seemed to be breathing okay, shallow but regular. The wound in his chest, he reached to move the sodden shirt out of the way, looked as if-
The roar of bikes filled the room. Shapes moved outside the window. The dogs barked furiously.
'Shit.' The cop ground out his cigarette on the floor and drew his pistol. 'Get down; away from the windows.' He ran to the nearest, cuddled up to the wall and peeked out. 'How many doors?'
Kevin's father pointed them out: 'Front, rear office, garage. Is there a risk - to the house, I mean?'
'They got no reason to go up there. What they want is here.' He stretched to kick the biker, the man's foot wobbling unconsciously under the impact. Fresh sweat glistened on the cop's forehead. 'We need that front door locked and those garage doors down. Right now.' He looked at Kevin.
Kevin took a moment, then ran for the garage.
'I've got the office,' his father said.
Kevin tried to call the dogs in but they were out near the bowsers, barking at people across the road. Four or five bikes sat under the power pole. Leather-clad shapes huddled around them, like a flock of crows picking over road kill. Kevin rolled the doors down, then ran back inside to lock the servo door. It and the top half of the front wall were all glass; he didn't see that locking up would help. It was just the three of them at the servo and his mother up at the house. No-one between here and town, twenty minutes down the track, and only the one cop, Smithy, on duty, anyway.
'We're cut off from the house but they seem to be leaving it alone,' his father said, re-entering from the office. He pointed a shotgun at the cop.
'I'm not the enemy here, sport,' Hunter said. 'Trust me - your missus will be safe enough if she keeps her head down. Unless they try for a hostage trade, of course.'
'You better start talking, or I might just be willing to do a trade of my own.'
Hunter stared out at the bikes making idle circles on the road. 'Is that the only gun you got?'
Kevin's father braced, the gun firm into his shoulder, the barrel locked on Hunter. 'You aren't Special Branch; there isn't one, not any more, not for years. And your prisoner isn't exactly human, is he? So you tell me, right now, what's going on here?'
'Jesus, Dad.' Kevin, feeling useless as the shit got ever deeper, looked for a weapon. Nothing but the pliers and the mallet discarded on the floor. Great.
'Just stay back, son, his father said. 'We'll get out of this.'
'No you won't,' Hunter said. 'Not if you don't help me. You've got no idea what's going on here.'
'Just hand him over. You caught him once. You can catch him again.'
'That lot won't be happy with that. They want blood, you can bet on it.' He checked his watch. 'I'd give my left nut for the chopper right about now.'
The window disintegrated. The cop crouched, shouted for them to follow suit. The timbers shuddered under the impact of bullets. Metal pinged where slugs tore through the garage.
The dogs barked like Gatling guns. One gave a short, sharp yap of surprise. The barking stopped. The shooting continued.
Kevin's ears felt as if they were going to burst. He kneeled, hands over his head as glass rained across the floor. Through the door to the garage, he saw a chance.
'The Cruiser,' he said, pointing. 'We could take the Tojo.'
'You finish it?' his father asked.
'Nah, but it'll get us to town, no worries.'
Hunter hadn't returned fire yet, just sat behind one of the fridges. He checked his automatic's magazine for the second time and swore again before slamming it back home. 'Wouldn't get a mile.'
'I got the keys.' Kevin stood, a hand in his pocket.
'Son, wait!'
Kevin
