Mullins stared from one to the other, not sure what was going on or how to join in the conversation. ‘So what’s my animal then?’
Raul laughed. ‘A bull. You want fighting. Food. Sex.’
‘I wanna stuffa chicken.’ He put a cumbersome arm around Nina.
Nina jerked back, punched him. ‘Fuck off, mullet.’
He guffawed.
‘And that would be — compensation?’ Raul asked Mullins.
‘You mean the chick? What you getting at?’
‘Are you bull enough to…’
‘… snatch some snatch? That what you’re saying? What if…’
‘… strange things start happening? Just drug her. Or knock her out. And they’ll stop.’
‘You’re telling me to…’
Raul’s insinuating smile. ‘This hellish place has damaged our bodies — could kill us. Aren’t we entitled to some raw enjoyment? I suggest you drink up, relax, then…’
Mullins half-grinned, drained his glass and wiped his mouth.
Raul stood, beamed at them all. ‘Well, that was better than kero fumes and pemmican. Now I’m going to see the pope.’ He reached for his boots, got his outside clothes from the rack. ‘I might even discuss with him whether existence is an illusion. And I’ll take him some food.’
Eve got up and went to the alcove. ‘I’ve got something to put it in.’
‘I’m sure you have, dear.’ Raul appraised her rear. ‘Now I see why gentlemen rise when a woman gets up from the table.’
The sloshed Mullins guffawed but Bell refused to interpret it as lewd.
Raul spread his arms. ‘People are afraid to have fun. To live. They dream about it — never do it.’ He kitted up, turned back to his troops. ‘You have life’s playground equipment on this very train.’ His eyes rested on Eve, then Nina. Then he turned to Bell. ‘And you have a certain female person who needs severe and protracted discipline.’ He picked up his gun. ‘So while I’m away — consider what I’ve said to you.’
‘So I can rub Cain?’ Mullins asked through a mouthful.
‘Did I tell you to kill him? Or did I just point out what life owes him?’
The oaf’s heavy frown showed he wasn’t sure what he’d heard.
The now terrified Eve came back with plastic containers, forks and napkins in a bag. Raul looped the handles over the thumb of his overmitt and smiled. ‘Pancakes and honey for afternoon tea?’
Bell got up to open the inner door for him.
‘I just step off and on again?’
‘Yes. There are steps on the ends of both sleds and it’s only walking pace. When you want to come back, just jog until you catch up to us. You only have to go the length of the linkage.’
‘Right. Have fun.’
Cain, immobilised, was starting to freeze. And as Bell let Raul out, the cold air from the small porch chilled him more. But not as much as the situation. Raul, just using words, had set a time bomb.
Bell slid the inner door closed again, swayed unsteadily, then retrieved his dropped windproofs.
‘Going out?’ Mullins slurred.
‘Got something to take care of in the workshop.’
An unpleasant grin from Mullins. ‘Need help?’
‘No. You’ve got to stay here — keep an eye on things and the compass. Or these two’ll untie him.’ He collected his M–4 and left.
Cain thought, just one man and one gun.
But how to get free?
Nina helped her shaking mother clear the table, hoping to get away from Mullins who sat finishing another glass. Eve glanced apprehensively at Cain, then the pair of them retreated behind the alcove to clear up.
Mullins drunkenly grinned at Cain, hand on his weapon. ‘Fun time.’ He grabbed the M–4, removed the four-column magazine and ejected the chambered round. He stuffed the round back in the mag, folded the gun-butt, then lurched up, almost knocking over the bench. He limped to the storage racks, stood on the bottom shelf and put the weapon and mag near the back of the top rack. He returned to the table, picked up his commando knife — a long double-edged blade — and limped into the alcove.
A scream from Nina. He emerged dragging her by the arm.
Eve followed him, shrieking, but he menaced her with the knife. ‘Stay behind there. If I see you, I’ll stick you.’
She looked at Cain, terrified.
He said, ‘Do what he says.’
‘He’s going to rape her.’
‘Do what he says or he’ll kill you both.’
Beside the huge form of the emotional illiterate, the girl’s compact body seemed a child’s. Mullins hurled her to the floor, hauled her along the rough matting by one arm, dropped beside her and licked his raw lips. Half smiling, he ran the knife along her cheek. ‘Payback.’
The girl now lay on her back, eyes bulging. ‘Oh Jesus. Mum? Oh Jesus.’
‘Do what he says, baby.’ Eve’s terrified voice. ‘Just… do what he says.’
Mullins said, ‘All right!’
He forgot his damaged hand and foot, vanished into his task, dragging the pile suit off the girl starting on the inner layers, eager to see her naked, his pants bulging. Cain tugged at his bonds, could do nothing. But if the girl could summon her gremlins…
When Mullins had her stripped he stared at her, stunned. She was more perfect than a retouched centrefold. Small uptilted breasts, a gymnast’s long slim thighs, the miracle of a developing girl combined with the freshness of a child. He murmured, ‘What a honey. You want fingers? Then don’t you fucking move.’
He worked himself free of the thermal underwear until it was around his ankles, exposing big fair-haired legs. He searched around for lubrication, saw nothing, spat on himself, kicked her legs wide.
Cain’s view of it was a wriggling hairy arse and the purple face of Nina — holding her breath.
It didn’t take long.
The racks began to shake. Behind him, a logbook flew off the console. Then Eve screamed as pots and plates shot out of the alcove to smash against the side of the van. The end of one of the benches tilted into the air, then the entire thing rose slowly toward the roof.
Mullins looked up, dumbfounded, as the metal bench fell on his arm. Nina, shrieking, hauled herself up, clawed at his face. One of her fingers must have caught his eye.
He bellowed in pain and backed off.
Then Eve was around the partition with a skillet clasped in both hands, ready to smash in the man’s head. He shoved her off, rose on one knee and thrust the knife up deep into her chest. She belched, staggered, and the iron pan fell from her hands only to float across the room. It smashed into the transceiver, wrecking the DC voltmeter, then sailed back and — in mid flight — disappeared.
In the bedlam, Mullins’s yell of fear and rage. He twisted, half-blinded, looking for the girl.
Eve staggered two steps toward Cain, as if she felt he could still help her, glazed eyes staring at him with the astonishment he’d seen on so many dying faces, the sudden amazement at coming to the end.
Then she collapsed half on top of him.
That was his chance.
He backed against her until his bound hands met the edge of the knife. It was jammed solidly between her ribs, a section of the keen edge still protruding. He cursed the size of her breasts which made it harder to get the rope against the blade, thrust at the edge knowing he’d either cut his wrists or the rope.
He felt a cord give. Then it was simple.
The racket of screams, roars and phenomena told him Mullins was too occupied to notice.
He rolled, arms free, wrenched the knife from the woman’s chest, turned.
Mullins, one eye bloodshot, was grabbing for the naked girl who had got loose again, was half up, her back to him, clinging to the table. He hauled at her bare legs, jerked her off her feet. She fell, slim bottom, goose bumps, her girl’s form tiny beside his.