Page 97 of Into These Eyes

Bryce

S haking with rage, Bryce watches the freak walk across his freshly mown lawn, slip between the fence railing and set off through the paddocks. Confused, he glances at the driveway.

No car.

So, Clark walked over.

Bryce knows from Clark’s slow, unhurried gait that it’ll take him at least five minutes, if not more, to reach the boundary fence.

He also knows that if Clark makes it home, makes that phone call, he’ll lose everything.

His life is farming and farming is his life.

It’s as simple as that. If that’s taken away from him, he has no idea who he’ll be.

And he’ll most certainly lose his daughter. He already has the uneasy feeling she’s slipping away from him since her return from Japan, but if he loses the farm, there’ll be nothing keeping her here.

There’s only one solution.

Clark has to be stopped.

Permanently.

He stares at freak’s retreating figure. Twilight’s taken hold and the clear, open sky sports pinpricks of light here and there. Complete darkness isn’t far off. He needs to decide.

Is he capable of murder?

The answer comes in a rush.

Yes .

To save who he is, to keep his daughter … yes .

Darting inside, heart pounding, he hurries into the study, unlocks the rifle cabinet and takes out a Remington 7600, his most powerful and accurate weapon.

‘Dad?’ Georgia calls from the kitchen.

‘I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,’ he yells as he slips through the front door and closes it softly behind him.

Then he breaks into a run. His arthritic knee screams in protest, but fear and determination override everything now. He has to catch up to Clark before he gets to his own property.

By the time he reaches the paddock Georgia moved the herd into, his breath wheezes on the cold, thin air and his knee wants to buckle. But he keeps going. He can see Clark weaving through the cattle, making a tough target of himself.

In that instant, he realises he won’t catch up to Clark before he makes it to the boundary fence.

When Bryce reaches the first cow, he stops beside it, raises the rifle to his shoulder and points it over the top of the animal’s back.

He pumps a round into the chamber and looks through the scope.

Burning up from the exertion, warm sweat trickles down the side of his face. He needs to get Clark to stop moving.

Taking a deep gulp of air, he yells, ‘Hey!’

Clark hesitates and turns, his face confused as he searches for the source of the voice.

It gives Bryce enough time to steady his aim. He squeezes the trigger.

Then the kickback comes, the crack in his ear, the herd startling. He knows Georgia will hear the shot from the house. Nothing he can do about that.

Clark stands motionless for a long moment.

Fear grips Bryce. Did he miss? He’s sure he hasn’t, but if he has, he’s just given Clark a reason to get the fuck out of here.

Then Clark’s legs buckle and he drops to his knees. A second later, he falls forward and disappears into the long grass.

As Bryce circles around the cow, his own leg almost gives way as he limps towards the collapsed body. By the time he reaches Clark, the freak’s turned onto his back and unzipped his jacket. A neat bullet hole to the right side of his chest pumps blood into his flannelette shirt.

Disappointed, Bryce glares down at him. He’d been aiming for the centre of the freak’s chest. But the disappointment’s short-lived. When Clark lets out a body-racking cough, blood mists on his lips. Then he starts gasping for air.

He’s hit Clark’s lung. Which means his prick of a neighbour is done for.

Maybe not as quickly and efficiently as a bullet to the heart, but Bryce knows a collapsed lung when he sees it.

Clark will soon pass out from lack of oxygen, and either suffocate or bleed to death.

Either way, without immediate help, he’s dead.

Relieved, Bryce leans over him and watches as the freak gasps for breath like a fish out of water, watches blood trickle from the corner of his mouth, watches his pasty face grow pale.

Clark makes eye contact, blinking with what Bryce can only interpret as confusion.

‘You think for one second I’d let you destroy my life? My daughter’s?’

Clark coughs again, spewing up more blood.

Good .

‘Dad! Dinner!’

Bryce jerks away. Georgia’s voice is distant, but the sound of it shocks him. He knows she heard the gunshot. That’s not what worries him. Putting down cattle and shooting rabbits is nothing new, easy to explain. But if she sees what he’s done, he’ll be in the same mess Clark wanted to put him in.

He can just make her out in the distance.

She’s turned the outside light on and stands on the front verandah.

Then she starts down the steps. His heart thunders as he raises his hand above his head and waves at her in acknowledgement.

When she waves and turns towards the house, he lets out a groan of relief.

Limping close to Clark again, Bryce takes a good look at him. In the fast-fading light, the blood on the freak’s mouth looks black against his white face. Already, his eyes seem sunken, resigned to the fact that life is seeping from him.

Satisfied, Bryce says, ‘I’ll be back to bury you later.’

He turns away and begins the painful journey towards his now safe existence.