Fast Buck

Baird threw the bomb with all his great strength. As it whistled through the air, the guard opened up with the machine-gun. Splinters flew off the trunk of the tree ten feet above Baird’s head. He saw the bomb drop on to the concrete path about fifteen feet from the gun and explode. He didn’t wait to see what the result of the smoke would be. The hail of lead smashing through the leaves of the tree so close to him shook even his iron nerve, and he dropped to the ground.

The gun kept on for a second or so, then stopped. Away in the distance Baird could now hear the sharp barking of dogs. As he wiped the sweat from his face, he wondered if the convicts had made a break.

Where was Noddy? What the hell had he been doing while all this had been going on?

The sound of the siren was deafening. Baird knew it would warn the guards at the prison some five miles away that there was trouble at the river, and it wouldn’t be long before reinforcements arrived.

Then he heard running feet and the sound of someone coming through the saw-grass. He got quickly behind the tree, his Colt ready, and waited.

Noddy and Hater came into the clearing. Noddy was pulling Hater along by his arm. Noddy looked scared. His eyes were bolting out of his head, and he was panting. Hater appeared to be dazed, and he let Noddy drag him along without protest.

Baird stepped out behind the tree.

Immediately Hater saw him, he seemed to come alive. He snatched his arm free from Noddy’s grasp, spun around on his heel and darted back into the thick saw-grass.

Both Noddy and Baird were so startled they didn’t move for a second. Then seeing Hater was escaping the way he had come, they both rushed forward, smashing their way through the bush, trying to head Hater off before he reached the smoke screen that was drifting towards them in the slight breeze that came off the river.

Baird was the first to overtake Hater. He grabbed at Hater’s naked shoulder. Hater squirmed away from him, twisted to his right and ran slap into Noddy, who closed with him.

‘What are you playing at?’ Noddy panted as Hater began to struggle like a madman. If Baird hadn’t grabbed his arm he would have broken loose again.

‘Get his other arm,’ Baird snarled to Noddy. ‘Come on; if they come this way…’

Feeling himself powerless to break free, Hater suddenly began to scream. The sound that came from his mouth was shrill, loud and horrifying. It was the sound of an animal caught in a trap. It made Baird’s nerves creep. It did more than that to Noddy. It scared him so badly he let go of Hater and hurriedly stepped back.

Hater slashed at Baird’s face with hooked finger-nails. Baird managed to jerk his head aside and save his eyes, but the short, sharp nails ploughed down his cheek, leaving deep, bloody ruts in his flesh.

Baird let go of Hater, but as Hater turned to run, Baird jerked out his gun and hit Hater on the top of his balding head with the gun butt. He was careful not to hit hard. The force of the blow drove Hater to his knees. He began to scream again as he struggled desperately to get to his feet.

‘Hit him! Hit him!’ Noddy cried, unnerved. ‘Stop his noise!’

Baird hesitated. He felt a murderous urge to shoot Hater, and he had to struggle against emptying his gun into the brown, emaciated body. As he hesitated, Hater got to his feet and began to run unsteadily across the clearing towards the saw-grass.

Baird went after him, caught up with him in three long strides and spun him around.

Hater looked at him. His face was working with fear: the facial muscles, the thin skin over the bone structure moved like water disturbed by a sudden wind. The vacant, dark eyes glared horribly. The thin, cracked lips drew off his teeth in a snarl of defiance.

Baird brushed aside Hater’s up-raised arms as he stepped in close. The gun butt smashed down on Hater’s bleeding scalp. Hater’s eyes went blind. He gave a dry little groan and crumpled at Baird’s feet.

Baird stepped back. Blood and sweat ran down his face. His eyes were a little wild, and he felt a sick uneasiness he had never known before.

‘Get him up,’ he said, without looking at Noddy. ‘You carry him. Get him to the hut as fast as you can. I’l be right behind.’

‘He’s crazy!’ Noddy said, bending over the stil body. ‘I told you we’d have trouble with him.’

‘Get on with it!’ Baird snarled, as he wiped his face with his handkerchief. The deep scratches were bleeding badly. He could feel blood running down inside his shirt and across his chest.

Noddy got Hater across his shoulders and began a slow jog-trot towards the hut.

Baird went back for the Winchester. He had trouble finding it as the smoke screen had drifted over the saw-grass, but finally he located it. He couldn’t see the river now. The dense smoke had blot ed out the dredges and the water. The firing had died down. Away to his right he could hear men shouting, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

He ran after Noddy, and caught up with him a quarter of a mile or so from the hut.