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“It was a dark and stormy night—”
“Oh god, my favorite kind of story,” Mikayla whispered gleefully.
“— not too far from here and not too long ago. Two brothers, Mario and Giovanni Berko were flying from Melbourne to Sydney. Now, Mario and Giovanni were not good men. When they were children, back in Italy, it’s said that they drank hatred with their mother’s milk. Their parents were vicious people who fought often and violently. Until one day, their mother rose up from the dinner table and cut their father’s throat.”
Leah gasped. Mikayla grinned.
“As they grew, they thrived on chaos. Eventually, they made their way to Melbourne, Australia, where their special brand of viciousness proved very lucrative. If there was a crime to commit or blood to be shed, the Berko Brothers were the go-to guys.” Callum paused to add some more spices to the pot.
“But of course, their crimes brought them to the attention of the authorities, and they soon found themselves in jail, their crimes being so cruel that they had both been given life sentences.” He stirred the wine gently. The aroma of spices and warm wine drifted on the air. Turning the blue flame on low, Callum continued. “Now, being the best in the business, as they were, the Berkos had lots of connections. Enough connections, in fact, to break them out of Melbourne Jail. On the run, they were taken to the airport, bundled into a small plane and sent on their way. The plan was to head to Sydney, where they would resume their life of crime. They never made it.” He stopped, looking around the room, at the quiet, expectant faces. “Their plane went down, not too far from here. The pilot died instantly, but the Berko brothers were not so lucky.” With another stir of the wine, Callum turned the flame off all the way, leaving just the dim glow of the flames in the wood heater and the single candle to light the room. “The plane was a flaming wreck, spread across the mountainside, in dense bushland. Badly injured, Giovanni regained consciousness first and searched for his brother. Thrown clear, Mario was twenty feet away, still belted into his seat. The sight that greeted Giovanni was enough to make a grown man sob. ‘Mio fratello’, he cried, falling to his knees next to Mario’s unconscious form.”
Rafe glanced at Mikayla when she poked him and she nodded towards Leah. Sitting in her bean bag, her arms wrapped around her knees, Leah was gazing at Callum with wide, horror filled eyes. Then she gestured towards Juniper, sitting on the couch, her fingers wrapped around William’s in a white knuckled grip. Rafe grinned.
“Both Mario’s legs had been torn away in the accident and he was bleeding out. Giovanni jumped into action—”
“A feat Mario was no longer capable of,” Mikayla interjected, making everyone laugh, easing the tension a little.
“—gathering what he could from the flaming wreckage to help his brother. Once he’d bandaged his legs, he pulled him up, putting him onto his back. Mario stirred. ‘Hold on, brother,’ Giovanni said. ‘I’ll save you. Just hold on.’ And so, Giovanni began the long, endless trek down off the mountain, seeking help.”
Her voice barely above a whisper, Mikayla said to Rafe, “Go now.” He rolled silently to his feet and crept across the lounge room in the gloom, grabbed his coat and boots from the entrance hall and slipped outside without a sound. Pulling the hood of his coat over his head, he went around the outside of the house, to the lounge room window, and waited for the right moment. He could hear Callum’s voice, low and steady, through the glass.
“Giovanni wandered, for days, his brother slipping in and out of consciousness, moaning in agony whenever he awoke. As time wore on, with Giovanni’s care, Mario got stronger, stayed awake longer, but without proper medical care, their wounds never fully healed. The open wounds, the dried blood, Giovanni having to carry Mario, meant that their flesh fused together, until they became one being. Of course, the days turned into months. The months into years. Wandering, lost in the bush, the Berko brothers went slowly, terribly, insane.”
“That’s awful,” Leah said softly. Rafe could see Mikayla snicker.
“Then one day, they happened upon a camp. It was a school camp, thirty children and three teachers. Now remember, neither of them had seen another human being for years and they were quite mad. Moving to the outer edge of the camp, they were sighted by a teacher. You can imagine how they must have looked – a two headed, four-armed monster. The teacher screamed a warning, which set the Berkos off. They beat the teacher to death in two horrendous, blood-soaked minutes.”
“No,” Juniper breathed.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. The teacher’s dying screams alerted everyone else, and they ran for cover, sheltering in the mess tent. But that didn’t stop the brothers. The taste for fresh blood and violence had fully roused them, and so they approached the tent. Crouched inside the tent, the two remaining teachers tried to shield the children with their bodies as they heard the monster approach. It a was strange mixture of scuffling sounds— garbled, incomprehensible noises. It was horrific. I’m not gonna lie, apparently one of the teachers pissed himself.”
“I’m not surprised,” Leah said.
“The beast stalked closer. Closer. Closer. Its stench, unmistakable. It sounded like a demon from the deepest pit of hell. Then, it was right there. Hands, like claws, pulled at the tent, tearing it to shreds. The children screamed and cried, calling for their mothers, as the Berko brothers burst through and with their arms raised high,” Callum raised his arms, which was Rafe’s signal.
With the flats of both hands, he bashed on the window repeatedly, hard enough that the windows shook. Leah shrieked and leaped from her beanbag, into Callum’s lap. Juniper, also shrieking, jumped over William on the couch and pushed him near the window. Rafe grinned in satisfaction.
When he got back inside, Leah was back in her beanbag, pale but smiling faintly as Callum handed her a glass of hot wine. Juniper was hugging William, apologizing profusely for throwing him at the monster. Mikayla, for her part, was lying back on the beanbag, laughing uproariously. She held her sides, with her eyes streaming. “Oh god,” she wheezed. “That was so perfect. Leah, your face. Juniper, I think you must have pissed yourself.” She couldn’t stop laughing and it was so infectious, it set everyone off.
Rafe sat down next to Mikayla, taking the wine she offered. “That was amazing. Well done.” She still hadn’t caught her breath.
“Cheers.” He held his glass up and she clinked hers against it, her eyes shining in merriment in the dim light. God, she was gorgeous, he thought to himself as he took a sip of wine.
* * *
Alight flurry of snow drifted over the chalet, lending a magical mood to the surroundings. Mikayla, Juniper and Leah had the chalet to themselves. William had taken Billy to the trampoline center and Rafe and Callum had gone to the pub.
The women were making the most of their free time by indulging in a do-it-yourself spa day, directed by Leah. Juniper was leaning back in a recliner while Leah painted her nails. Mikayla, sprawled out on the couch, was doing her best not to touch the weird gunk Leah had insisted on scraping onto her face. There was something even weirder over her eyes, which meant she couldn’t open them. “I need a cuppa.”
“You’ve got seven more minutes before you can take the mask off, then you can have a cuppa.”
“What the fuck? Haven’t I already been here for two hours?”
“No, Mik, you’ve been there for eight minutes. Don’t touch it!”
“Jesus, Kaplan, when did you get so bossy?”
“Eight minutes ago, when I foolishly imagined you could lie still for as long as fifteen minutes.”
