The Thug and the Pup

Chapter 1: the Thug

The crack from the hunting rifle resounded off the rocks and faded way into the desert. The bullet kicked up sand and small stones from the ground a few paces in front of the group of men. They dived for cover behind the piles of dirt and junk.

"At least we know that he's a lousy shot."

"That was a warning shot, kid," Quinn snorted, "Rakkon is a bit of softie. He doesn't like to kill people unless he has to."

Then Quinn was yelling at the rest of the group, "Keep your heads down. Did anyone see where the shot came from?"

"Somewhere up in the rocks, I think."

A sneering sigh from the leader, "Yeah, right. Okay, everybody keep down. Don't count on there being a second warning shot."

. . . . . . . . .

He had seen the dust clouds later than he should have; he'd become complacent.

"Sheeet," he admonished himself, "I should have left weeks ago, but no, I just got too comfortable. I liked it here."

'Here' was a low rocky ridge in the middle of the Australian desert. It seemed out of place, and for all the world looked like some deranged demigod had dumped a huge load of earth and misshapen boulders onto the desolate plain.

A hundred and fifty or so years ago, someone had discovered gold here. The location was too isolated for the usual rush of hopeful prospectors, but a company had been formed and a small settlement established to exploit the precious metal.

It was classic 'boom and bust'. After a couple of years the gold ran out and the place was abandoned. Ted Rakkon had come here just over a month and a half ago - on the run. Three months before that, he'd stolen a million dollars from Leo Provan, a powerful crime lord, and Provan wanted revenge.

The dust clouds were caused by two vehicles coming along the neglected dirt road that led to the deserted settlement. The likelihood of those vehicles belonging to tourists, deluded gold hunters or whoever was practically nil; they had to be Provan's men. They'd found him.

Too late to make a run for it; he would have to try and hold them off. Two vehicles, probably only half a dozen men, he had a chance.

He rapidly packed up a backpack: lots of water, some food, sunscreen and ammo for the hunting rifle. Grab the rifle, a hat and a blanket - it might be hot as hell right now but it would get cold if he was stuck up in the rocks tonight.