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Back Man at the Window Save as PDF
Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. One
  3. Two
  4. Three
  5. Four
  6. Five
  7. Six
  8. Seven
  9. Eight
  10. Nine
  11. Ten
  12. Eleven
  13. Twelve
  14. Thirteen
  15. Fourteen
  16. Fifteen
  17. Sixteen
  18. Seventeen
  19. Eighteen
  20. Nineteen
  21. Twenty
  22. Twenty-One
  23. Twenty-Two
  24. Twenty-Three
  25. Twenty-Four
  26. Twenty-Five
  27. Twenty-Six
  28. Twenty-Seven
  29. Twenty-Eight
  30. Twenty-Nine
  31. Thirty
  32. Thirty-One
  33. Thirty-Two
  34. Thirty-Three
  35. Thirty-Four
  36. Thirty-Five
  37. Thirty-Six
  38. Thirty-Seven
  39. Thirty-Eight
  40. Thirty-Nine
  41. Forty
  42. Forty-One
  43. Forty-Two
  44. Forty-Three
  45. Forty-Four
  46. Forty-Five
  47. Forty-Six
  48. Forty-Seven
  49. Forty-Eight
  50. Forty-Nine
  51. Fifty
  52. Fifty-One
  53. Fifty-Two
  54. Fifty-Three
  55. Fifty-Four
  56. Fifty-Five
  57. Fifty-Six
  58. Fifty-Seven
  59. Fifty-Eight
  60. Acknowledgements
  61. About the author

‘We waited in the scrub along the fence, upwind of the road. We didn’t expect anything but we felt good, we were doing something. The old fella, whose sheep they were, said he would start the shooting and he didn’t want any dogs getting within fifty yards of his sheep. The previous attacks were around midnight. We chatted until ten and then lay still, no smoking. You get a funny feeling, lying there, rifle out in front of you, knowing five yards either side, someone you know well, was doing the same thing. You get to looking at the sky, glorious and heartless. You smell the ground, feel the insects, hear the insects, hear a mopoke, hear it again. Then you hear a chatter, almost like school kids, a single smoky sound followed by others that were high pitched. Dogs. You get murderous, you get hungry to kill, kill the smug complacence that allows dogs to slaughter at will. The night became stiller. I’m sure we all felt it. I hardly breathed, so badly I wanted those dogs in my sights. I was nervous as hell, thinking they might just turn down the road to my place, or turn around or go somewhere else. I prayed. I prayed to someone I don’t believe in to deliver those bastards to me; maybe we all did.

‘I couldn’t see it but the bloke closest to the gate said later, probably while I was praying, that the big shaggy dog stopped and looked towards the open gate. The dog stood stock still, he said, sniffing and straining his eyes against the night. The other dogs became impatient. The black one gave a growl, deep and menacing, and the other dogs settled. Then a stupid-looking dog, that seemed to have his head on sideways, started running to the sheep. He was silent, so silent, no bark, nothing. Then they all took off, silent, dark streaks. They were thirty yards from me when the first shot rang out, then it was Guy Fawkes Night, but deafening, you couldn’t aim, not like roos that just stand there, or rabbits in a spotlight, these were ghosts. I just fired like mad aiming a foot above the ground where their torso would be. The night became all sound. We were being battered by the sound of rifles, deafening, echoing, smacking our ears, then another sound, an almost human sound, a desolate howling that pulled at your insides. Did I stop at this? No, none of us did. We became the silent pack, full of bloodlust but we weren’t going to be sated so easily.