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‘Maybe she's here for you and me, Ellis.'

Grace saw Ellis flickering a moment, his brain computer glitching before getting back on the program.

‘She's here for me,' said Ellis.

‘No, I think you're here for me, Ellis,' said Simon.

Grace found herself able to watch them and watch herself at the same time without the fear, like Simon clearing some space somehow. He was working it, but it was like a different language.

‘What?' asked Ellis.

‘I did kill a man. A stranger.'

‘See. I knew you knew.'

‘He went to sleep on the road. I came round a bend and I ran over him and did squash him flat like a bug.'

Grace tried not to think of the story, which might be true or might not, but to think about what Simon was trying to do.

‘That's it? That's not killing.'

‘I skidded and ran into a tree afterwards. Smashed up the taxi. That's why I got the new one, Ellis.'

‘An accident, that's all?'

‘Yes. I don't think there was anything I could have done, except maybe not be on the earth so I wasn't there at the time to do it. Not my fault, said the judge. And my wife. But then she changed her mind I guess. Anyway she left.'

‘Why you suddenly talking so much?'

‘Only he wasn't a bug. He was a cabinet maker. Wife and three kids. The youngest is four. A Jack Russell named Scruff.'

‘Time to shut up, Simon.'

‘Thing was, Grace, I just wished I could have jumped out of the taxi, before that bend coming up, before it all happened.'

‘What?' said Ellis.

‘No,' said Grace.

Ellis had let the pistol rest loose on his lap. He swung the rifle round to Grace, pushing the barrel at her bra. ‘Put your seatbelt on. No one's jumping. Just me. Jumping on you pretty soon.'

Grace put her seatbelt on.

Ellis swung the rifle back to Simon's head. Simon already had his seatbelt on. Always.

‘Simon, you're a prick. Now you're trying to fucking hypnotise me or some shit.'

Grace said, ‘If you crashed now, I guess we'd all die together.'

Simon flicked his eyes to Grace's in the mirror to see whether they were on the same page. She smiled. It was an encouraging smile, but perhaps too serene like Grace Kelly in
Rear Window,
only this Grace winked.

Simon reached up and turned the rear-view mirror so he could see Ellis. He looked back, smiling like Robert Mitchum in
Cape Fear.
‘Yeah, you watch me, Simon. You better be watching me.'

The taxi drove past the villas it had driven into only twenty-eight hours before. The tops of pine trees could be seen beyond. The sky was lightening still.

‘Nearly there,' said Simon.

A truck passed going the other way.

Grace said, ‘Are you gay, Simon?'

‘Huh,' said Simon looking to find Grace's face but not.

‘The way you keep helping Ellis, like you like it.'

Ellis wasn't looking over to her. He was watching Simon.

‘It's like you just keep waiting for Ellis to tell you what to do, like you're his wife.'

Simon drove.

Ellis was holding his breath, his mouth starting to twist slowly, like he was sounding out some difficult word.

‘I saw the way you bandaged Ned. How you were trying to look after him. You are very tender, Simon.'

‘Ned,' said Ellis.

‘Ned's dead,' said Grace.

Ellis looked towards Ned, his head shuddering on the window.

Simon nodded once.

The Gnangara pine plantation was on their right, the tops of the pine trees catching the first rays of the new sun.

‘Poor Ned,' said Simon. ‘I couldn't save his life. I saved yours, Ellis.'

‘I saved yours.'

Grace said, ‘You never answered me, Simon. Are you a poof?'

‘Maybe you're right. Denial. Maybe that's why I haven't found love yet. I'm ready. I want it, but I don't know the way.'

Grace looked out at the pine trees as they came over a rise. She looked at the pistol just resting on Ellis's lap and the rifle pointed at Simon before she went on. ‘It's just that Ellis keeps telling me how he's going to hurt me and fuck me. Only I don't think he knows how to fuck a woman.'

Ellis was having trouble following. They were jumping around on too many important points.

A limestone road at the bottom of the hill went off to the right and into the heart of the pine forest.

Grace felt the taxi slow a little, and hoped Simon was in on her plan, because if he wasn't she would die. ‘Simon, he's been keeping you around. Hanging on every word. Watching, listening. I'm the one in the way. I think he wants to fuck you. Ellis wants you so bad Simon, I'm amazed he hasn't bought you flowers, and dropped down on his knees so he can put you in his mouth and love you till–'

‘Aggggggh,' growled Ellis as he swung the rifle towards Grace.

Simon braked hard, sending Ellis forward. The rifle went off, putting a hole in the roof and filling the car with noise.

The taxi veered right across some dirt towards the limestone track. It clipped a tree stump, went up on two wheels, sending Ellis crashing into the rear passenger window. The taxi held there a moment, up on two wheels, driving along the pine plantation road, with Ned and Ellis down against their windows and Grace and Simon hanging against their seatbelts.

The taxi tipped all the way over onto its roof, squashing the plastic taxi sign. Windows exploded. Ellis screamed.

The taxi slid along the road of the pine plantation in a constant scrape of crumpling, tearing metal roof. Simon sat, upside down, grimly holding the useless steering wheel.

Grace hung upside down in the back. With her red bra and the way her arms waved around, she looked like she might be dancing at a beach party.

Ned and Ellis were on the roof which was now the floor in a tangle of guns and glass and blood.

The car finally stopped sliding and did a little half turn, slowly rotating around on some point of the roof until it stopped.

Simon pushed the release on his seatbelt and fell past the steering wheel to the car roof. He crawled out through the missing driver's window and leaned into the back and released Grace's seatbelt. She dropped on top of Ellis, making him squeal.

‘Come on,' said Simon. He dragged Grace out through her missing window.

Ellis was half under Ned. He kicked him off then slithered around on his elbows until he saw the pistol laying in front of him. He reached for it, but instead of his hand there was scraped skin and shattered bone. He growled and grabbed for the pistol with his left hand.

Simon tried to lead Grace off, but his leg was hurt. He pushed her towards the trees. ‘Go.'

She paused a moment, then ran awkwardly through the pine trees. Simon noticed she was wearing only one shoe.

Ellis crawled out of the car. Simon moved away from Grace, stopping at the nearest tree.

Ellis got up and leaned back against the car. He looked at his mashed wrist where a hand should have been, then to Simon.

Simon staggered between the trees towards the rising sun.

Ellis yelled, ‘You're a dead man, Simon. A fucking dead man.' Ellis coughed a gob of blood. He felt his chest and was sure there was a broken rib poking into something important. He pushed himself up off the car and trudged after Simon like a half blown-up Terminator working on its last battery pulses.

Simon limped up the rise but paused to try to figure out where he should go.

Ellis found the gap between that row of trees, saw Simon some ten trees up, raised the pistol and fired.

Simon staggered and fell. He grabbed at his calf then jumped up and tried to hop. He made it past a couple of lines of trees before the pain in his knee from the crash dragged him down again. There was a fallen pine tree nearby and Simon started to crawl for it.

Ellis came along the line of trees, bubbles of blood popping on his lips. He stopped when he saw some spots of blood on the ground, bright red against the yellow of the fallen pine needles.

Simon dragged himself behind the tree, pulled off his belt and tied it above his calf as a tourniquet. He got ready to get up, but Ellis's face appeared over the log.

Ellis limped around the cut end of the tree, his gun hanging.

The sun was starting to hit the ground in places, golden and hopeful.

Ellis flopped down next to Simon and squealed in pain. He raised himself back up to rest his back against the rough pine bark and aimed the gun again, left-handed.

‘Ellis.'

‘Yeah, it's me.'

Simon laid back on the sharp pine needles and closed his eyes. ‘I got the girl away.'

‘She got herself away.'

‘Yeah, I think you're right.'

Ellis was trying to raise the pistol and sight along the barrel. He couldn't focus.

Simon stayed down, feeling the pine needles prick him all over his back. It was a good smell, pine, first thing in the day.

‘You didn't save those others.'

‘No.'

‘Your guy who you ran over doesn't count.'

‘He does.'

‘Want to know how many I've killed?'

‘No.'

‘Now I'm going to kill you.'

Simon didn't open his eyes. He just lay there. He could hear a bird somewhere. A willie wagtail, he thought, chirping angrily. Then he said, ‘When did I save your life?'

‘You know.'

‘School? When that kid had the stranglehold on you?'

‘Yeah. I knew you knew. Jiujitsu guy had me.'

‘You took to cornering guys in the change rooms after sport.'

‘Ha. Yeah, that way they couldn't get away. I shit in one guy's mouth after, too.'

Simon looked at Ellis. The gun was still aimed at him, but Ellis was leaning back on the tree with his eyes closed, blood dripping between his grin. ‘I was nearly passing out and there you were, Simon Carter standing in your ironed shirt talking to him like a psychiatrist. “No Steve. Steve don't do it. Steve.” I watched you looking at him and talking to him and he stopped. He stopped strangling me. And you took him away. You were showing me, weren't you? I think you're nothing, Ellis, but I'm going to save your life and then not even ask for anything back.'

‘Is that what you think?'

‘Foster's got his money and that girl has got her tits and you got your brains. But see, I did pay you back.' Ellis's words trailed into a weak cough. The gun rested on his lap. His eyes stayed closed. He was smiling like a stoned idiot.

Simon propped himself up on one elbow. ‘That's not why I did it. I didn't stop Steve for you. I stopped him for him. He was going too far and would have regretted it later. My saving you was ... there was no plan. Just coincidences, and a jumble of things meaning nothing. My saving you was collateral kindness.'

Ellis sat not smiling. The gun was still pointed but Ellis was dead.

There was a footstep. Simon looked to see Grace coming from behind a tree. She had the .22. She aimed it at Ellis as she came forward. She pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. She kept coming and kept pulling the trigger but it was out of bullets.

Simon and Grace limped out of the edge of the pine plantation into a tiny suburb of fake Tuscan homes with roll-on lawns. The retic was going in front of one of the houses. Others had newspapers waiting for folks to wake.

Simon smiled when he saw that it was The Pines. He led Grace into the cul-de-sac where he had delivered Frank, the drunk pie-seller.
She'd gotten rid of her one shoe and she was barefoot. Her toenails were painted a bright purple colour.

Simon knocked on Frank's front door.

Frank's wife was dressed in tight-fitting tracksuit pants and a green blouse, ready for some power walking after she dropped the kids off to school. She opened the door to find two half naked people covered in blood. ‘Oh.'

Simon said, ‘Hi, is Frank home?'

Grace, her blood-smeared arms folded over her bra, nodded an encouraging smile through a swollen lip.

Frank, already in his white shirt and suit pants, came up behind his wife.

Simon said, ‘Frank, great. Listen, can you call the police?'

‘Do I know you?' Frank stepped to the door, taking it from his wife. He was getting ready to close it.

‘I drove you home. Your car was stuck in a ditch.'

‘Oh, yeah. No worries mate. Got it back.' Frank closed the door.

Simon reached quickly for the handle and opened it again before Frank had time to push the lock.

Frank straightened as Simon pulled Bobby/Ellis's gun from his belt. ‘Frank, this isn't acceptable.'

‘What's going on?' said Frank's wife from the edge of the kitchen as Frank retreated, his hands raised like he'd seen on television.

Simon and Grace followed. Two kids dressed for school were sitting on the other side of a table eating their breakfast. There were eight different kinds of cereal boxes on the table. In an alcove near some glasses was a little television emitting animated kid-show noises. There were lots of boings and skids, no English required.

‘Hi kids,' said Grace.

No one was looking at her or the TV or Simon. They were completely focused on the gun with a collection of expressions ranging from fear to wonder. Frank's wife let her eyes follow Simon's leg down to where blood was staining her carpet.

Simon said, ‘This is not acceptable, Frank. Just common courtesy. Politeness. Dealing with another human being in a civilised manner. I mean, Ellis ... Ellis was just always Ellis. A seriously damaged, hurting,
animal kind of thing. But surely we haven't all devolved back into jungle behaviour. We know there are deranged evil things, but don't the rest of us have to be better, then? Make some effort?'

Frank, his wife and one of the kids stood or sat transfixed trying to look like they agreed with what Simon was saying. The other kid had gone back to watching the cartoon.