Return to Cameron Country

4: Thriller in Paradise-3

BRYCE SAID, ‘IT’S COOL, man. Take it easy.’

‘Who are you?’ the goon asked with menace.

‘Just a hiker, dude.’

He wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head to one side and eagle-eyed Bryce.

‘Forest Ranger, eh,’ he said as he loosened his stance and aimed the gun sideways as hoodlums do in movies.

Bryce tried not to think of Belle; it was her he was worried about, he hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Just stay put. Bloody trust me, Belle.

He ambled slowly towards the man, arms raised up in front, his palms facing outwards. It was a submissive gesture, but it was the best defensive position to begin a disarming technique. He kept his eyes peeled on the gun, a Glock 17.

Fuck, safety’s off, and finger’s on the trigger.

Bryce kept his cool.

‘It’s okay. I’m not armed. I’m not a Ranger. Just a hiker.’

He had to do it right, work the environment in his favour. He deliberately slowed things down. When he had closed the gap to get within reach of the gun without being shot, he smiled.

Confused, the guy asked, ‘What’s ya smilin’ about, arseface?’

‘Behind you,’ he said.

The man turned. It’s a no-brainer trick that works every single time. Bryce moved quickly and confidently, completing the whole technique in one unbroken movement.

In less than fifteen seconds, the goon was writhing in pain and screaming like a castrated monkey. Bryce had stepped diagonally forward to the left and to the side, out of the line of fire. As he moved to the left, leading with his left foot, he pivoted on his back foot, so he was facing towards the thug with his arms outstretched directly in front. At the same time, he grabbed hold of the thug’s wrist with his left hand while bringing his right hand up to grab the barrel of the gun from underneath. Simultaneously, he pushed down on the thug’s wrist with his left hand while twisting the arm and pushing the barrel to point upwards with his right, breaking the goon’s trigger finger in the process.

Now he simply had to push down towards the ground with his right hand, and the gun slipped out of the villain’s grip. As soon as he had the weapon, Bryce stepped out of reach and gave the cannabis grower a jaw-shattering kick in the face.

He was about to ask Belle to come of hiding when he heard rustling. Someone else was coming into the clearing. His combat training kicked in big time. Bryce raised the handgun, went down on one knee as a tough-looking, pale-skinned, overweight fellow armed with a Smith and Wesson 637 snub nose materialised.

Bryce pulled the trigger, careful just to graze the man in the gut with the Glock-17.

A superficial stomach wound is hardly fatal, so Bryce quickly got up on his feet, took possession of the S&W, and tucked it into the small of his back.

The first goon went out of his mind when Bryce emptied the Glock by firing into the ground all around him. Once he wasted the bullets, he wiped the weapon clean of his prints and pressed the barrel back into the second man’s hand.

He searched the guys and divested them of their phones, wallets, and car keys. He put the keys in his backpack.

He told them, ‘I know who you are. And I know where you live. If I ever see your hair in my line of sight again, I will not hesitate to kill you.’

Bryce removed his shirt before shouldering the rucksack. He went over to Belle and covered her face with his shirt, so she didn’t have to see the bloodied men.

They reached the designated path in no time.

‘We need to get out of here.’

He put the pack on her and gave her a piggyback ride. She laid her head on his shoulder; her arms wrapped lightly around his neck. He tabbed out of the Daintree seemingly unburdened by her weight.

Upon reaching the ute, she voiced what was bothering her. ‘We can’t just leave them there; they’ll die.’

‘We’re going to see the Rangers and let them know where to find them. They’ll be right.’

‘You shot him,’ she said.

He tried to assuage her fears since she was unused to violence. ‘He’ll live. Let’s hope I don’t live to regret the decision to let them off breathing.’

‘Me, too.’

Bryce turned on the engine and drove off. She couldn’t stand the suffocating silence, so she turned on the radio. They drove for about half an hour when he stopped one hundred yards past an empty parking lot.

‘Stay here. I’m going to see the Rangers.’

He hopped out, lifted the driver’s seat and retrieved a light green hoodie. He put this on, zipped it up and covered his head with the hood.

She followed his movements in the rear-view mirror.

Bryce morphed. He hunched down a little then swaggered; bouncing on his feet, he allowed his hands to sway with every step. He transformed into an inner-city gangsta.

She blinked and turned around to make sure he was still the man she was going to marry.

Bryce walked into a studio-sized wooden structure where forest rangers were stationed.

‘You alright there, mate?’ asked one of the officers.

‘Yo, man. Just lettin’ ya know two dudes had a shootout over by the ...’

He saw a rainforest and river walk map tacked on the wall and pointed to it. ‘... right about here.’

‘Thought we heard gunshots, ya have anythin’ to do with that?’

He raised his hands in dramatic fashion. ‘No way, man, no way ... Just hiking, dude. Saw two men go into the woods right about there,’ he pointed to it again. ‘Then, f**k yeah, hell broke loose, and I legged it, man.’

‘Okay, wait here. You’re coming with us.’

He nodded to indicate his willingness.

The Rangers went to the back room to get ready. Bryce took his chance to scoot out, simultaneously unzipping the hoodie. He shrugged it off him, rolled it into a bundle, and tossed it in a recycling bin. He turned the other way before reversing back towards his vehicle. The bounce and the swagger were gone, replaced by long, confident strides.

On his way back, he saw the Rangers in the parking lot scratching their heads. One of them accosted him.

‘Hey, did you see a man in a green hoodie?’

He looked around, shrugged and said, ‘No, sorry.’

He overheard the other say, ‘That could be him, John. He’s the only one around.’

‘Don’t be an i***t. That guy was shorter and walked like a Hollywood gangsta. No way that’s the same guy.’

Belle watched from the side mirror as shirtless Bryce walked towards her, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his pants, in long and assured strides.

While the Rangers were left wondering what to write in their report, Bryce and his Belle drove off and disappeared into the billowing dust towards dry, hot Cameron Country.