A match flared in the darkness. Noone’s hollow face in the flame.
“You took your time, Tommy,” he said, drawing on his pipe stem, shaking the match dead. “I was expecting you yesterday.”
Tommy groaned in anguish. Blood gushed through his fingers from the wound. His eyes closed then he opened them, fixed themagain on Noone.
“You know, I did warn Percy that he should shoot you first, that you were the more dangerous of the pair. I suspect he justcouldn’t help himself, he and Billy had never got along. I am assuming you killed him for his troubles, the poor lad. I’venot heard from him, so . . .”
Noone shrugged, like it was all the same to him. Tommy’s legs were tingling. He shivered, suddenly cold. His gaze sliding aimlessly around this room that had once been the very center of his life, the safest place in the world. He could almost feel them with him, his family, gathered around the table, shuffling between the rooms. Noone like a specter in the shadows, the slender outline of his body, his crossed legs, his crooked arm, holding the pipe to his lips. The silver revolver was on the table beside him, among a small scattering of victuals and supplies.
“That could have been you, Tommy. I always said you’d have made a fine officer one day. And truly, I planned on leaving youalone, out there, living your life. You will notice that not once over the years have I attempted to track you down, whenreally it would have been no trouble at all. Even after you killed that headman, down in St. George. And remember, I was aserving police inspector at the time.”
A draw on the pipe, a thick plume through the sunlight; Tommy’s head rolled.
“Now, your brother on the other hand . . . the man always was a buffoon, though I thought we had an understanding, I mustsay. The problem is, you people just can’t seem to forget me, it’s like we are sweethearts, old flames.” He chuckled, shookhis head. “Whereas, truthfully, I have not given either you or Billy or the events that connect us even the slightest thoughtin all this time. It was nothing to me, what happened here. Nothing—do you understand? But then Billy goes running to somelawyer and I learn you brought a gun to my house. To my house, Tommy. I was very disappointed. I expected a great deal more from you.”
Hopelessly Tommy was fixating on Noone’s revolver, the same revolver with which he had once killed a man. Delirious thoughtsof grabbing it, of doing the same to Noone, his mind lurching uncontrollably between imagined and real. There was a pistolin the room behind him, he was thinking. Mother kept one hidden under the bed. As if he was still living here. Fourteen again.
Noone leaned forward, into a bar of sunlight, his gaunt face looming, those terrible dead gray eyes. “Are you hearing me,Tommy? Are you still with us in there? I hope so, because I want you to know exactly what I plan on doing down in Gippslandonce you are dead.”
Tommy grunted nonsensically, spittle bubbling; a defiant, animalistic growl. Noone was still talking but he could hardly hearhim, consumed by the pain and a futile urge to stand. If he could just get that revolver . . . if he could lay his hands onNoone . . .
In the corner of his eye Tommy glimpsed the doorway and stalled. Katherine stood there with a shotgun, barefoot in her housedress, framed by the sunlight outside. Visibly trembling. Pleading with her eyes. Tommy nodded as best he could manage, screaming internally, willing her on. Across the room Noone was now rising to his feet, dumping his dead tobacco, collecting his things, preparing to leave. Katherine wavered terribly. Tommy grunted but she still didn’t move. And all the while Noone was saying, “I have Drew Bennett to visit then this is over. Unless of course the widow is part of it too. My God, if I have to see to her and her children also . . . how far must this thing go?”
Katherine sprang forward and Noone went for the revolver but before he could reach it she unloaded the shotgun in a searing,deafening blast that tore his face in two. He staggered, still pawing for the revolver, his mouth hanging slackly, a lopsidedpalsied stare. Part of his jaw was missing, his cheek a bloodied, ragged pulp. He groped for the table edge but missed itand down he went, toppling the chair as he collapsed. Moaning horribly. A noise that was not of this world. Seething, Tommyforced himself upright as Katherine fumbled another cartridge, struggling to reload. Noone’s legs, beneath the table, beganto shiver and twitch. His hands were still moving, one clawing the air, the other drifting to the second revolver holsteredon his belt, and with an immense effort Tommy flung himself forward and crawled across the floor. He reached Noone’s bootsand climbed up him: kneecaps, thighs, rib cage, the bones like fingerholds, until he was looking down into the voids of hiseyes. Noone’s neck and face had been lacerated, the artery punctured; blood pulsed in weak gouts. His eyes settled on Tommyand his mouth twisted oddly in what might have been an attempt at a smile. He said something. Wait for you, it sounded like. Tommy reared up and clasped both his hands around what remained of Noone’s neck, and with everything he had left in him, everything he was, squeezed. Blood bubbled over his fingers. Noone slapped a limp hand puppetlike against Tommy’s cheek. Tommy didn’t falter. Didn’t slacken his grip. He wrung the life from Noone’s body until his final foul breath escaped. The hand slid from Tommy’s cheek and the eyes clouded further
