Spike barks again.
‘Well, you are.’
Another bark.
‘Quiet from the peanut gallery.’
Judd studies the Australian for a moment. ‘So, I just, I need to get to the dish asap.’
‘Yep. Got it. Sorry I’m late. You won’t believe the day I’ve had. I ran into this nasty black chopper —’
‘Your chopper’s here, at the airport?’
‘God, no. Can’t afford that. Keep it at my place.’
‘Right. And where’s that?’
‘Not far.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay!’ Corey floors it. The ute shudders as it pulls away. ‘Anyway, this black chopper, man, it was horrible —’
Judd’s eyes are shut as the breeze from the open passenger window washes over him. It’s like standing in front of an open pizza oven on full flame but he doesn’t care. The air might be hotter than July but it’s dry and curiously refreshing. Even better, as it roars past it does an excellent job of drowning out the Australian’s voice. In the ten minutes they’ve been driving the guy has not shut up. Then something he says cuts through the hot, loud air and forces Judd to respond. ‘You what?’
‘Pulled a loop.’
‘In a helicopter?’
‘They’re a bit hard to do in a car.’
Judd looks at him. Pulling a loop in a chopper is the rarest of feats, the sole domain of experienced test pilots in advanced military hardware. ‘Right.’
Corey picks up his sceptical tone. ‘It’s true. And the black chopper did one too, followed me right over.’
Judd nods politely.
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘Will it get me where I’m going any faster?’
‘It might.’
‘Okay, I believe you.’
‘It’s true.’
‘I said I believe you.’
‘But you don’t mean it.’
‘Please, I just want to get to where I’m going.’ Judd turns back to the window, pushes his head back into the hot breeze and closes his eyes, hopes that ends the conversation.
Corey grips the steering wheel in frustration. No one believes him, including the coppers at the Alice Springs police station. The officer on duty that morning had listened patiently to his story about the nasty black chopper and the men with assault rifles, jotted down a few details then told him he’d look into it.
He will never look into it, of that Corey is certain. It’s like an outback version of the boy who cried wolf. It’s the bloke who talked dog. Corey’s the crazy guy who has conversations with the dog, so no one believes anything he says, even when it’s true.
Judd cocks open one eye and looks at the Australian. He feels bad. Just because he’s unhappy there’s no reason to take it out on some poor schmuck who’s only here to help. He decides to be pleasant from now on.
‘How much further is it?’
‘Is what?’
Judd drags a hand across his chin, remembers to be pleasant. ‘Where we’re going. Your chopper?’
‘Oh. We’re here.’ Corey turns off the rutted tarmac and thumps onto a dirt track. At its far end sits a small house, on its own, miles from anything. It looks more like a shack than a house and appears to be constructed from rusty corrugated iron.
The ute pulls up outside. Judd shoulders the door open, clambers out and sees the day-glo-yellow Loach parked behind the place. He takes it in.
It’s a dented, corroded hulk, peppered with bullet holes and black scorch marks. Incredibly, it looks even worse than the ute.
‘This is it?’ Judd turns to the Australian, dumbfounded. ‘This is your chopper? Are you — is this a joke?’ Any idea of being pleasant is now forgotten. ‘You fly around in this thing?’
‘Of course. It’s a Hughes OH-6A Cayuse. A classic. Backbone of the US Army. TC flew one in Magnum PI.’ Corey places Judd’s bag and jacket in the cockpit then rubs at a scorch mark with the heel of his hand. ‘I realise it might not look that flash at the moment but I’ve made a lot of unique modifications.’
‘What? Painted over the rust?’
‘Among other things.’
Judd leans closer, inspects the fuselage, astonished. ‘Did you use house paint?’
‘It’s an underrated aerospace coating. Look, obviously you’re not seeing it at its best but I guarantee it’s mechanically funky-dory.’
‘Funky-dory? Well that puts my mind at ease —’
‘The aircraft is airworthy.’
‘Is that hydraulic fluid?’ Judd points at a puddle of liquid congealed in the dust under the fuselage.
Corey bends, takes it in, surprised. ‘Oh, that’s from before. Don’t worry about it.’ He grins his crooked grin.
‘Sorry, but I’m going to organise other transportation.’ Judd pulls out his iPhone, studies the screen. It tells him it is SEARCHING, which means no signal. He strangles a groan in his throat.
‘Mate, you’re in the middle of a desert. You’d have better luck catching a great white out here than getting phone service.’
Judd turns and strides towards the ute. ‘Then you need to drive me back to the airport.’
Corey follows him. ‘If you’d just hold your horses —’
Spike barks.
‘Shhh, dog!’ Corey turns back to Judd. ‘I’m sure I can set your mind at ease if you —’
Spike barks again.
Corey turns to him. ‘What is your problem?’
Spike isn’t barking at Corey, he’s barking at something on the heat-soaked horizon.
Corey follows the dog’s gaze, sees a glint in the distance. ‘Oh damn.’ Suddenly he’s very miserable.
Judd notices the glint too. ‘What? What’s “oh damn”?’ Then, in front of the glint he sees a shape that quickly grows larger and trails grey smoke. ‘What’s that?’
Corey turns to Judd. ‘Sorry about this.’
‘Sorry about what?’
The Australian sprints towards Judd.
‘What are you doing —?’ Corey hits the American around the thighs in a perfect rugby tackle, knocks him flat to the ground as a missile skims the desert and slams into the house.
The explosion rocks the world. Jagged chunks of corrugated iron fly in every direction. A large piece of burning metal slices across the spot where Judd just stood and smashes through the ute’s windscreen. Instantly the vehicle catches fire.
Stunned, Judd lies in the dust, face to face with the Australian, the dog crouched nearby. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘Remember the story about the black chopper you didn’t believe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you believe it now?’ Corey rolls to his feet and pulls Judd up. He unhappily takes in his burning house and his burning ute, then gestures for Judd and Spike to follow. ‘This way.’
They move quickly. Judd’s eyes are locked on the distant glint. ‘Who is it?’
‘No idea.’
‘Why are they doing this?’
‘If you find out I’d like to know.’ Corey kicks away a chunk of smouldering iron that lies against the Loach. ‘Everyone in.’
Judd stops. ‘I’m not getting in that thing.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Corey climbs into the pilot’s seat as Spike hops in the back.
Judd looks from the Loach to the distant glint then back at the Loach. ‘Christ!’ He scrambles into the chopper.
‘Belt, headset on.’ Corey cranks the Loach to life. The turbine coughs — and dies.
Judd pulls on an old headset and buckles up while keeping his eyes locked on the glint. It grows larger quickly and he can see it is, indeed, a black chopper. ‘It’s coming!’
‘I know!’ Corey tries again. The turbine coughs — and dies.
Judd’s eyes are glued to the black chopper. A puff of grey smoke appears in front of it. ‘Grey smoke! I see grey smoke! Another missile!’
Spike barks.
‘I’m tryin’!’ The turbine coughs — and dies. ‘Please-baby-please-baby-please.’