‘Drop the knife in the pit, please,’ Ruth said.
‘It’s not like I can hurt you with it,’ Judith said. ‘You’re ten metres away from me, and it’s a bloody kitchen knife, for god’s sake.’
‘Well, then. Why don’t you do it just to please me.’ Ruth raised Steve Gifford’s gun and pointed it at Cameron’s head.
Judith threw the knife into the pit. Seconds passed before she heard a splash.
‘And that’s the end of that,’ said Ruth. She lowered her gun hand. ‘It’s deep down there, you know. My father told me it goes down at least forty metres. I’m not sure he got that right, but it’s deep enough, I’m sure. This is where he brought them. He filled their heads with stories of the Dreamtime. He liked to pretend that he had Aboriginal heritage, but that was all bullshit. And then he told them he was going to bring them to see cave paintings. A private tour.’ She laughed. It was a polite laugh. As if they were both at a dinner party and the host had just told them an anecdote that had run a little too long. ‘He killed them here, of course. And then he threw their bodies in there.’ She gestured with the gun towards the darkness.
Judith could not look away from Cameron. His eyes were on hers, fierce and frightened and, she thought, trying to communicate. What was he trying to tell her?
‘Ruth, can you let Cameron go, please? I followed your rules. I came alone. I told no one.’
Ruth smiled. ‘That’s very true. Well done you. The only problem is, you’re late.’ She paused, then continued, still in that conversational tone. ‘And also, you bitch, you are the worst of them.’
‘I’m sorry, I—’
‘I found out all about you, you know. It wasn’t hard. I’m a very good researcher. I found out what you did. You killed your stepfather. You beat him to death. I don’t blame you for that. It was the right thing to do. You had to protect your mother, and yourself.’
Oh Christ. Judith couldn’t think straight. She was still looking at Cameron, couldn’t look away from him.
‘You were just like us!’ Ruth shouted, her face twisting in sudden fury. ‘You were one of us! And then my sister came to you for help and youfailed her!’
Ruth was breathing hard, her face was contorted and her teeth were bared. And then, just as quickly as it had come, the fury disappeared. The contorted expression relaxed. She smoothed her hair from her face with her free hand, and checked her watch.
‘And as I said, you’re late. I’m so sorry, but the rules are the rules.’
Ruth raised her gun hand, connecting with the back of Cam’s head, and Judith took a few stumbling steps along the ledge towards her.
‘Wait! Just wait.’
Ruth’s smile widened. Maybe this was how she’d always pictured the end: Judith, stumbling towards her, pleading, forced to watch Cam die, knowing that she was next. But before Ruth could pull the trigger, Cam shot his right knee forward, connecting hard with the lantern. It fell, end over end and light flashing, into the pit. A half-second later, Cam pitched himself forward, over the edge of the ledge, and followed the lantern down. There was the sound of a distant splash and then the light was extinguished completely.
‘Cameron!’ Judith stopped moving. She couldn’t see a goddamn thing. If she made the wrong move she’d end up in the water with him. But fuck it. There was no time for caution. He’d given her a chance and she had to take it. She swapped her torch into her right hand, switched it on and shone it towards Ruth, trying to blind the other woman while at the same time she took off running, pumping her legs and pushing herself into an all-out sprint up that narrow ledge. She tried to point the torch, with all of its twenty-six hundred lumens, directly into Ruth’s eyes, but her movement meant that the light danced all over the place. It didn’t matter. Pace was everything now.
Ruth pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot echoed in the cavern. Judith felt no pain. The second time she wasn’t as lucky. She heard the shot, and felt a thumping pressure and burning pain as she took a bullet to her outer left thigh. She stumbled, almost fell, but kept moving forward. She raised the torch above her head and as she reached Ruth, she brought it down as hard as she could. Ruth moved at the last moment. The torch made contact, but it wasn’t enough—a glancing blow. Both women went to the ground, Ruth underneath, Judith on top.
Judith didn’t hesitate. She brought the torch down again, this time harder, and she didn’t miss. It cracked into Ruth’s temple with a horrible, dull thud. Ruth groaned, but still she tried to bring the gun to bear, tried to press it upwards to Judith’s ribs. Judith used her left hand to grab Ruth’s wrist, to force the gun down and away, and then she brought the torch down a third time, as hard as she could.
It was enough. All the fight went out of Ruth’s body. The hand that had been fighting to push the gun upwards went limp. There was no part of Judith that wanted to hit her again, to try to take her life. Because they were not the same, in the end. Judith stayed in place a moment longer, keeping her hand on the gun, but there was no movement from Ruth, and she couldn’t afford to wait. She pulled the gun from Ruth’s hands and pushed it so that it skittered across the stone floor, away from them. Then she flipped Ruth over and handcuffed her.
Judith left her there. She stumbled to the edge of the ledge, shining her torch into the darkness below.
‘Cameron! Cam, are you down there?’
There was a moment when it was just her voice, echoing around the cavern. Then he answered.
‘I’m here! In the water. There... there’s something in here with me... floating...’ He sounded terrified.
Judith swore. It was a release of tension, an expression of gratitude, and a recognition of the problem. He was ten or fifteen metres below her, in water that was god knows how deep. How the hell was she going to get him out of there?
‘I’m coming. I’m coming, Cameron. Are you okay? Are you hurt?’
‘I’m okay. It’s... it’s very cold.’
Judith swept her torch back and forth in a wide arc, trying to find the limits, the edges of the pit, trying to find him. The light passed over him, and he cried out.
‘I’ve got you,’ she said. ‘I’ve got you.’ Limping heavily, she started back down the ledge she’d come up, trying to keep the light of the torch on him, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Jesus Christ. He was ten years old. She kept moving downwards. ‘I’m coming, Cam. I’m just trying to find a way down. You keep moving, okay? You keep moving to stay warm.’
