Streets of Lonely Ghosts by Christoffer Petersen

Author:Christoffer Petersen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aarluuk Press
Published: 2021-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Part 5

Maratse ignored the pain in his knee and ran to Perivik first, fearing the worst as he remembered the louder crack of Nuka’s larger calibre rifle. He found Perivik curled on the deck with his hand clasped to his shoulder. Maratse pulled his hand away, inspected the wound, then grabbed Perivik’s hand, pressing it back onto the wound and telling him to press it hard. He picked up the rifle, flicked the safety on and slung it around his shoulder. The walkway shuddered and thundered as Maratse bit his lip and jogged back to the road.

The taxi driver caught up with Maratse in the middle of the road, grasping his arm to stop him, cursing Maratse for taking his car.

“Do you have a mobile?” Maratse asked, cutting the man short.

“Aap.”

“Then call an ambulance. Tell them to hurry.”

Maratse left the man in the middle of the street and pushed on to where Nuka lay slumped against the front wheel of his pickup. Nuka’s rifle lay across his lap. Maratse took it, made it safe, and slung it over his shoulder alongside Perivik’s.

“Where?” he asked, as Nuka groaned.

“My stomach.”

Maratse crouched, peeled Nuka’s bloody hands away from his stomach, then ripped the fishing and hunting officer’s shirt to get a better look at the wound. He turned Nuka roughly to one side, following the path of the bullet to the reasonable but not overly worrying exit wound above Nuka’s left hip. Maratse frowned at the hissing sound behind Nuka, wondering how the small calibre bullet had enough energy to pass through Nuka’s body and pierce the tyre, especially when Nuka was standing when he was hit.

“Perivik’s second shot was at my tyre,” Nuka said, and Maratse’s frown disappeared.

“Hmm.”

Nuka raised a bloody hand and pointed at Perivik’s house. “How is he?”

“You’ll both live,” Maratse said. “At least until Kasey gets back.”

“You remembered her name.”

“And I won’t forget yours.” Maratse pointed at Nuka’s stomach, and said, “Keep pressure on it.”

He took a step into the road, then remembered Perivik’s children, and the boy who had been brave enough to call the police. With the immediate threat over, Maratse limped the short distance from Nuka to the taxi driver. He took the man’s arm, put him in charge of the scene, and told him to stay put until the ambulance arrived.

“I’m not a policeman,” the man said. “This is your job.”

“And I’m deputising you.”

“What?” The man waved his hands, then turned to the nearest of the spectators – a small crowd growing by the minute. “He can’t do that.”

“He just did,” Inukuaq said, with a wink at Maratse. “Constable,” he said, taking a small step towards Maratse. “Can we talk?”

“In a minute.” Maratse pointed at the house.

“I’ll wait.”

Maratse nodded, then peeled the rifles from his shoulder. He pressed them into Inukuaq’s hands, trusting the old hunter to take care of them.

“I’ll be in the house,” he said, with another look at the taxi driver, the newly deputised police constable. “Come and get me when the ambulance arrives.

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