Authors: Scot Gardner
Henderson
was
off
his tree. He
was
in
the
corner
showing
Ker
r
y
and
Carly
the
stupid
condom
trick. He sniffed
the
unrolled
tip
up
one
nostril
then
coughed
it
out
of
his
mouth. The
ring bit
hung
out
his
nose
and
the
floppy tip
dangled
out
of
his
mouth.
He
pulled
it
back
and forth and
loudly announced
that
it
’
s the best
way
he knows
to
clean
out
his
sinuses.
He
only
does
it
when
he
’
s really
stoned.
I’m sure
it
’
s
the
only
way
he
’
s
ever
used
a
condom.
Felt
like she’d
been
gone
a
long
time.
Heaps
more
people
had arrived
and I
guessed
the
kitchen
was
a
bit
of
a
maze
like
the
rest
of
the
house.
Den
floated
across
the
room
and
landed
in
Mandy
’
s
seat.
‘Someone
sitting
there,
mate,’
I
shouted.
‘Wha?’
‘That
seat
’
s
taken
alread
y
.’
‘Wha?’
‘Shift
your
arse,
Mandy
’
s
sitting
there,’
I
shouted
right in his
ea
r
.
There
was
a
dedicated
pause
as he
thought about
what
I’d
said.
‘
Y
es
thank
you.
I’ll
have
two
with
onion,’
he
chuckled.
Jus
t
fo
r
a
spli
t
secon
d
th
e
roo
m
fel
l
quiet
.
Ther
e
wa
s
a
ga
p
betwee
n
song
s
o
n
th
e
C
D
an
d
i
t
wa
s
lik
e
ther
e
was a hug
e
hol
e
i
n
th
e
part
y
.
Eve
r
yon
e
stoppe
d
talking
.
Den ha
d
tim
e
t
o
loo
k
a
t
m
e
i
n
bewildermen
t
befor
e
Hendo
brok
e
th
e
silenc
e
wit
h
a
massiv
e
bur
p
tha
t
mad
e
m
e
and
a
fe
w
other
s
laugh
.
Th
e
nex
t
trac
k
o
n
th
e
albu
m
wa
s
the Blac
k
Glas
s
son
g
‘Jungular
’
wit
h
th
e
fiercel
y
distorted
guita
r
intro
.
Th
e
ve
r
y
secon
d
thos
e
guitar
s
started
,
a
flash o
f
whit
e
erupte
d
fro
m
outsid
e
an
d
th
e
hous
e
fel
l
into
darkness
.
Th
e
guita
r
soun
d
vanishe
d
wit
h
a
po
p
an
d
was replace
d
b
y
th
e
soun
d
o
f
breakin
g
glas
s
an
d
girl
s
squealing
.
De
n
shoute
d
fo
r
eve
r
yon
e
t
o
ge
t
down
.
Wit
h
my
hea
d
betwee
n
m
y
knee
s
I
couldn
’
t
tel
l
i
f
anyon
e
els
e
was listenin
g
t
o
him
.
I
n
time
,
th
e
breakin
g
glas
s
fade
d
t
o
a
musica
l
tinkle
.
I
wa
s
waitin
g
fo
r
th
e
nex
t
noise
;
th
e
next calamit
y
bu
t
ther
e
wa
s
nothing
.
Hend
o
wa
s
th
e
firs
t
one t
o
speak.
‘What
the
bloody
hell
was
that?’
Gingerly
lifting my
head
I looked
around
the
room.
I
was
expecting
to
see
blood
and
guts
eve
r
ywhere
but
there were
only
frightened
eyes.
Carly
started
to
c
r
y
.
‘Is
eve
r
yone
okay?’
Den
shouted.
I
felt
paralysed
from
the
neck
down.
Henderson,
filled
with
bent
courage
and too
much
grog,
moved
to
the
front doo
r
.
I
looked
to where the
glass
had
come
from
and
saw
a
football-sized hole
in
the
lacy
curtain
and
behind
it,
a
shark
’
s
jaw
in
the glass.
A
spotlight
from
outside
illuminated
the
windo
w
.
‘Shiiiit.’
‘What
is
it,
Hendo?’
Den
moved
for
the
door
and
I
followed
him,
hanging on
to
the
back
of
his
leather
vest.
On
the
nature
strip
laid
a
crumpled
Saab
with
a
wooden
lamppost
broken
over
the bonnet.
A
cobweb
of
wires
lay
on
the
neighbour
’
s
grass,
fizzing
and
crackling.
The one
remaining
headlight
of
the car
was
twisted up
and
pointing
at
the
broken
front window
of
Rebecca
’
s
house.
‘Shiiiit.’
‘Rebecca
.
Rin
g
th
e
ambulance
.
No
w
.
An
d
th
e
cops,
’
Den barke
d
a
s
h
e
walke
d
briskl
y
t
o
th
e
wreck
. I
wa
s
stil
l
hanging
o
n
t
o
hi
s
ves
t
an
d
bein
g
dragge
d
alon
g
unti
l
h
e
smacke
d
my han
d
off
.
Her
e
I
am
,
I
thought
,
finall
y
goin
g
t
o
se
e
m
y
first
real—live—dea
d
perso
n
an
d
I’
m
hangin
g
o
n
t
o
De
n
like I’
m
tw
o
year
s
old
.
I
couldn
’
t
believ
e
ho
w
confiden
t
h
e
was.
Mayb
e
i
t
wa
s
th
e
dope
.
Mayb
e
i
t
wa
s
al
l
tha
t
blood
y
first-aid
trainin
g
a
t
V
enturers.
H
e
walke
d
straigh
t
u
p
t
o
th
e
busted
ca
r
an
d
stopped
.
H
e
gingerl
y
brushe
d
th
e
bac
k
o
f
hi
s
hand
agains
t
th
e
doo
r
the
n
grabbe
d
th
e
handle
.
I
ha
d
picture
s
of head
s
rollin
g
ou
t
whe
n
h
e
opene
d
th
e
doo
r
.
Mayb
e
h
e
did to
o
becaus
e
h
e
stoppe
d
an
d
looke
d
i
n
th
e
tinte
d
windo
w
.
Afte
r
a
fe
w
frustrate
d
second
s
o
f
puttin
g
hi
s
han
d
o
n
the
glas
s
t
o
t
r
y
an
d
sto
p
th
e
reflectio
n
h
e
jus
t
ripped
th
e
doo
r
open.
‘He
y
.
Y
ou
okay?’
I
heard
him
say
softl
y
.
‘Come
on.
Let
’
s get
you
out
of
there.’
I
was
suddenly
aware
of
the
strong
smell
of
petrol.
‘Den.
This
whole
thing
could
blow
up
.
.
.’
‘
T
oo
right,
Einstein.’
Part
of
me
wanted
to
run
back
inside
and
part
of
me wanted
to
start
running
home
but
by
far
the
biggest
part of
me
wanted
to
see
the
blood.
Den
was reaching
in to
undo the
seatbelt,
speaking quietly
and
reassuringly
to
whoever
was
inside.
He
pulled himself out
and
brought the driver
’
s hand with him. Long,
red
fingernails
gripped
tightly
around
his
palm
and
the
body
inside
began
to
move.
‘Come
on.
Gently
does
it.’
‘Den
.
Th
e
phone
’
s
dead,
’
Ker
r
y
yelle
d
fro
m
the
doo
r
wa
y
.
‘It
’
s
oka
y
,
my
wife
has
phoned
the
police,’
said
a
gravelly voice.
A
man
with
grey
hair
and
a
grey
moustache
stood watching
from
the
safety
of
the
other
side
of
the
road.
De
n
helpe
d
th
e
lad
y
t
o
he
r
feet
.
Sh
e
wa
s
shak
y
and ve
r
y
tall
.
He
r
long
,
re
d
hai
r
splashe
d
acros
s
th
e
bac
k
of Den
’
s
ves
t
a
s
h
e
pu
t
hi
s
ar
m
aroun
d
he
r
wais
t
an
d
slipped
unde
r
he
r
arm
. I
move
d
t
o
he
r
othe
r
side
an
d
helpe
d
he
r
int
o
th
e
house
.
Someon
e
ha
d
li
t
some
candle
s
an
d
se
t
the
m
u
p
o
n
th
e
dinin
g
roo
m
table
.
W
e
helpe
d
he
r
si
t
down
.
Sh
e
wa
s
thankin
g
u
s
an
d
t
r
yin
g
to ge
t
th
e
hai
r
ou
t
o
f
he
r
face
.
Sh
e
looke
d
lik
e
a
model
underneat
h
th
e
runnin
g
mascar
a
an
d
tears
.
Ther
e
was n
o
blood.