Mad Max 1] Mad Max by Terry Kaye

Author:Terry Kaye [Kaye, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0725518723
Publisher: QB Books
Published: 1985-01-11T08:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Three days had passed and still Calamine couldn’t surrender the memory of Jim’s words that night. She tried to recapture the feeling she’d had as he explained the sense of freedom combined with the high-speed rush to death that he got on the road. He’d gone away next morning; barrelling that high-class, high-powered piece of machinery along the black ribbons criss-crossing the countryside.

For once Calamine didn’t allow her jealousy to overcome her. For once she didn’t let her mind wander through the imaginary motel rooms in which, she guessed, she would find him lying in someone else’s arms. And it was ironic; because that’s just what he was doing.

Her name was Georgey Ramone—at least that was her stage name—and he’d met her stranded on a median strip next to her broken-down baby-blue convertible. He’d replaced the busted fan belt with one made out of her panty-hose, and accompanied her to a whistle-stop called Sugartown. She was due to sing that night at a local bar-cum-cabaret which, surprisingly enough, managed to do a thriving trade with interstate truckies, pick-up drivers and tow-truck operators who organised their schedules to catch the late show on Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights.

Jim and Georgey managed to get it together after the show that night, and for the next thirty-six hours Calamine was a million miles from Jim’s thoughts. So were the road, the larrikins and hoods who inhabited it, and the constant fight for survival. If Jim had been a little more alert, if he’d remembered that there was no such thing as safety, and that a cop’s lifespan was in direct proportion to the care he took, he probably wouldn’t have died.

Johnny the Boy found Jim’s bike parked round the back of the seedy motel on the second night. Though he didn’t know who owned it, he recognised it instantly as a Highway Patrol super-bike, and his twisted mind slipped into a familiar groove. Waiting until nightfall, he drifted through the darkness and settled down on his knees next to the rear wheel. Deftly he pulled a spanner from the pocket of his leather jacket and fitted it round the rear-wheel nut. Straining his forearm and bicep, he exerted all his strength against the arm of the spanner until he felt the nut begin to release itself from the thread. Carefully he spun it out, using his own extensive experience of repairing bikes to guess the exact point where the nut was loose enough to finally shear off, but not so loose that the rider would notice his rear wheel wobbling.

It was over in a matter of seconds and Johnny disappeared into the night—only regretting that he probably wouldn’t be there to witness the result of his handiwork.

Jim the Goose roused himself from sleep early the next morning. He bent over to take a long, lingering look at Georgey stretched out next to him, and decided against waking her. Quietly he rose and slipped into his uniform, cursing once again the black leathers which regulation and common sense demanded he wear.

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