There was the stagnant, oil-scummed water of an old sump iridescent in the sunlight.
"Are they going to make a park of all this?" I asked.
She dipped her chin down and gleamed at me.
"It's about time.
The smell of that sump would poison a herd of goats.
This the place you had in mind?"
"Uh-huh.
Like it?"
"It's beautiful."
I pulled up beside the loading platform.
We got out. I listened.
The hum of the traffic was a distant web of sound, like the buzzing of bees.
The place was as lonely as a churchyard.
Even after the rain the tall eucalyptus trees still looked dusty.
They always look dusty.
A branch broken off by the wind had fallen over the edge of the sump and the flat leathery leaves dangled in the water.
I walked around the sump and looked into the pumphouse.
There was some junk in it, nothing that looked like recent activity.
Outside a big wooden bull wheel was tilted against the wall.
It looked like a good place all right.
I went back to the car.
The girl stood beside it preening her hair and holding it out in the sun.
"Gimme," she said, and held her hand out.
I took the gun out and put it in her palm.
I bent down and picked up a rusty can.
"Take it easy now," I said. "It's loaded in all five.
I'll go over and set this can in that square opening in the middle of that big wooden wheel.
See?" I pointed.
She ducked her head, delighted. "That's about thirty feet.
Don't start shooting until I get back beside you. Okey?"
"Okey," she giggled.
I went back around the sump and set the can up in the middle of the bull wheel.
It made a swell target.
If she missed the can, which she was certain to do, she would probably hit the wheel.
That would stop a small slug completely.
However, she wasn't going to hit even that.
I went back towards her around the sump.
When I was about ten feet from her, at the edge of the sump, she showed me all her sharp little teeth and brought the gun up and started to hiss.
I stopped dead, the sump water stagnant and stinking at my back.
"Stand there, you son of a bitch," she said.
The gun pointed at my chest.
Her hand seemed to be quite steady. The hissing sound grew louder and her face had the scraped bone look.
Aged, deteriorated, become animal, and not a nice animal.
I laughed at her. I started to walk towards her.
I saw her small finger tighten on the trigger and grow white at the tip.
I was about six feet away from her when she started to shoot.
The sound of the gun made a sharp slap, without body, a brittle crack in the sunlight.
I didn't see any smoke.
I stopped again and grinned at her.
She fired twice more, very quickly.