The Killer of Oz

by Chelsea Field

  “Yeah. That’s probably good advice. I’ll do that, thanks. Now, how’re you going keeping Kirk away from your mother?”

  “Fine, Dad. She hasn’t been left alone with him once.” I eyed the now-empty path ahead of me and hoped Connor was keeping an eye on Mum and Kirk right now in fact.

  “Fine? That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “Well, Mum asked me not to tell you…”

  “What? Tell me—”

  “Just teasing, Dad. But I really do need to go. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  “Humph,” Dad said.

  I hurried to catch up and was relieved to spot Misti and Norma who were straggling at the rear. Norma was pointing into the rainforest. “Look, can you see it?”

  “See what?” I asked.

  “An azure kingfisher. In that tree just there.” Norma pointed again as if her finger could highlight one of the dozens of trees in that general direction.

  I peered intently, guessing I was looking for something blue.

  “Ah, I see it,” crowed Misti. “What a beauty.”

  I moved a leafy green frond thing out of the way, wanting to see this kingfisher for myself. Nothing. How hard could it be to spot a blue thing in a sea of green and brown?

  Movement flashed, and I saw a flicker of something that might’ve been blue—or black, or brown. Darn. Very hard, apparently.

  “There he goes,” Norma said, confirming my fears that my chance had vanished. “Oops, I guess we should catch up with the others.”

  We power-walked along the winding trail. These ladies were fit. They were also better at dealing with the humidity than me. Only pride kept me a few paces ahead of them.

  Their footsteps slowed. “Izzy,” Misti said. “I don’t want you to panic, but you have a scorpion on the back of your shirt collar.”

  I froze in my tracks.

  “I could flick it off with a stick, but if I miss, I might piss him off. Maybe you should take off your shirt real slowly. Then we can safely get rid of him.”

  It was as good a plan as I could come up with.

  Trying to remember what kind of bra I’d thrown on in my semi-comatose state this morning, I slipped the satchel to the ground, hoping it wouldn’t end up infested with leeches or ticks, and began undoing buttons.

  Was my skin just crawling, or was something climbing on the back of my neck?

  “Is it moving?” I squeaked.

  “Not yet,” was the not-so-reassuring response from Misti. “Keep going nice and gentle-like, and you’ll be fine.”

  Going nice and gentle-like was not in line with my instincts. I ignored them and finished undoing the buttons. Then I slipped the shirt off my shoulders, making sure to jut the collar out as far from my skin as possible.

  Connor reappeared around the bend ahead to the sight of my red bra and the remains of my shirt slipping to the ground with two senior citizens looking on.

  “Um, are you all right?”

  Or sane, his tone seemed to ask.

  “Yes. Just ridding myself of an unwanted hitchhiker… A scorpion,” I added, in case he got the wrong idea.

  Understanding, then calculation, flashed across his features. Despite the allure of my chest on display, his gaze flicked over my face, then landed somewhere behind me. “Norma, let me take that satchel off your hands. I think we have some bug spray in there. Does that work on scorpions?”

  When had Norma picked up the satchel? I pivoted with excessive caution in case the scorpion was attracted to movement.

  Norma bit her lip. “I don’t think bug spray’s a good idea. We’ll just shake the scorpion off and go on our way.”

  Connor took the satchel regardless.

  Misti poked at my discarded shirt with a stick. “Bugger, I took my eyes off it for a second, and now I can’t find it.”

  My neck prickled again. “Please tell me it’s not still onboard.”

  Connor checked me over thoroughly, the touch of his fingers replacing the imaginary scorpion legs trailing over my skin.

  Misti continued poking at my discarded clothing. “Don’t think so. At least it was still on your collar when you dropped the shirt.”

  After further stick poking, Norma braved picking it up and giving it a good shake. Then the four of us examined every inch of the fabric—inside and out. Nothing.

  I pulled it back on and wondered if there ever was a scorpion.

  Equipped with my shirt and Amy’s satchel once more, we marched along the winding, changing, but ever-magnificent trail. And we sweated. No wonder we’d been told to bring so much water.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Norma asked.

  Connor and I had discussed what to say about this topic if it came up. “We haven’t uncovered anything of significance,” Connor lied. “I shouldn’t talk about it, but so far everything’s pointing to the same conclusion the police have drawn.”

  There. Hopefully, now they’d believe we hadn’t found anything at Amy’s house.

  We almost hadn’t.

  But Norma’s question did remind me we should be gathering our own information.

  “You’re very fit,” I observed. “Do you spend a lot of time walking?” For example, casing neighborhoods, hiking back and forth from drugs you’re growing in national parks, or snatching animals from those parks?

  “Absolutely,” Misti said with satisfaction. “One of the best things about being a gray nomad is getting to spend hours out in nature. Australia has such a diverse landscape to explore. I mean, look.” She gestured at our surroundings.

  “It’s wonderful,” I agreed wholeheartedly. The rainforest shifted and breathed around us—like an ancient, wild living thing. An effect heightened by the lack of any sign of human civilization beyond the narrow track we were walking on. It felt like we were in a different country. Maybe a different era too.

  “So you spend a lot of time in national parks, then?” I pressed. “Do you have a favorite?”

  Norma sipped a good amount of water before answering. “Hmm, that’s a tough question. Every single state has a national park that’s a marvel in its own right.”

  I made a mental list and concluded she wasn’t wrong. Yet I’d managed to see so few of them up to this point… I remembered I was extracting information, not getting travel advice. “Where have you been recently?”

  Norma returned the bottle to the side pocket of her pack. “We spent several months in Western Australia before traveling up here at our usual leisurely pace. Most of that time we stayed in the southwest region because there are so many national parks down there. The Porongurup might be my favorite. It’s this wonderful granite mountain range surrounded by giant karri trees with spectacular views, tons of wildflowers, and great for birdwatching too.”

  We came abruptly across the rest of our group who appeared to be examining a tree. “What have you found?” I asked.

  “This”—Kirk waved at the tree like a magician might wave at his newly un-cut-in-half assistant—“is the ancient plant species Gerrie was telling you about, the Idiot Fruit tree. Also known as the Ribbonwood, the Green Dinosaur, or Idiospermum australiense if you were wondering about the Latin name.”

  I looked it over. It was a pretty tree, make no mistake. Sixty feet tall, plentiful green leaves, a clean, straight trunk. But I was kind of disappointed. I wouldn’t have been able to pick it out from dozens of other types of trees we’d passed.

  Somehow I’d expected such a unique plant species to look more… unique.

  Etta looked disappointed too. “Is that it?”

  Kirk frowned. “Well, it’s not much to look at, true, but the story behind it is interesting. Despite being such an ancient species, it was only discovered in the nineteen-seventies, and by a somewhat paranoid farmer, of all things. A few of his cows died overnight, and he was convinced someone had poisoned them, so he called the police. The police had a vet do an autopsy, and the vet found these giant, fist-sized seeds in the cow’s stomachs.”

/>   Etta immediately looked around for some of these deadly fist-sized seeds.

  “The vet hadn’t seen them before but figured they were the source of the spasms, nerve paralysis, and death the cattle had experienced. So out of curiosity, he sent them off to the Queensland Herbarium—only to be told he’d made the botanical discovery of the century.”

  Having failed to find any seeds, Etta appeared disappointed again. “Hmm,” was all she said to this piece of history. “Will we get to see a stinging tree today?”

  “You mean a Gympie Gympie?” Kirk asked.

  “A what?”

  “Gympie Gympie. It means ‘devil-like’ in the language of the local Aboriginal people.”

  Etta brightened. “Yes, that sounds like the one I wanted to see. Does it hurt as much as they say? Like being burned with hot acid and electrocuted at the same time? I read about a man who used one of the leaves to wipe his ass and ended up shooting himself to end the agony!”

  Of course that would excite Etta. I crossed my fingers that Kirk would say no.

  “Well, there are no official records to support that suicide story,” he said instead. “But I’ll point one out to you. From a distance.”

  Right. At least the distance thing sounded good.

  “Yeah, the Gympie Gympie is great,” Gerrie said. “It looks like a nice and friendly plant, but what you mistake for soft fluff on the leaves are these evil stingers that are essentially tiny needles carrying poison. If you don’t get them out with wax or whatever, the pain can come and go for months or even years.”

  He sounded almost as cheerful as Etta about this. What was wrong with these people?

  “Another interesting one that’s all over the place,” Gerrie continued, “is the Wait-a-while vine.” He looked around and then grasped a thin, thorny vine hanging from a nearby tree. “This one isn’t poisonous if you want to touch it.”

  Etta and Mum both braved it, so I tested one of the spiny thorns too. It was sharp and stronger I expected.

  “They hang down all over the rainforest. Hard to spot amongst the other greenery.” He let the vine drop back into place. “They’re not too bad if you just walk into one, but they can be seriously vicious if you’re running or riding at speed.”

  Note to self: no running through the rainforest.

  Or eating anything in the rainforest.

  Or touching anything in the rainforest that someone else hadn’t touched first. Right.

  Most of us were using the break in our hike to drink water as Kirk and Gerrie educated the clueless newcomers. Ray took the opportunity a step further and unpacked his drone. He held it aloft like a proud father. “While we’re all stopped anyway, how about I get some footage of us? It’ll be a marvelous memento for you. And you’ll get to see this beauty in action.” He produced a remote control as well and flew the drone up toward the canopy without waiting for an answer.

  Misti spoke to me in a hushed undertone. “He won’t admit that’s the third one he’s had to buy after crashing the first two.”

  Uh-oh. The crowded rainforest didn’t make for easy flying.

  “Everyone smile and wave at the camera,” Ray ordered.

  We all complied.

  “Stand closer together, will you?”

  We shuffled closer.

  The drone clipped a tree branch.

  “It’s okay, I’ve got this.”

  The drone veered sideways and clipped a tree trunk.

  “Bugger. That ain’t good.”

  The drone spun in midair a few times, rapidly losing altitude.

  I glanced at my companions. Most of the nomads were still smiling. But I suspected for a different reason now.

  “Hang tight,” Ray said. “I’ll turn it around yet.”

  The drone was less convincing. For a brief second it seemed to right itself, and then as if the engine gave up the ghost, it plummeted toward us.

  I tried to get out of the way, but with ten of us on the narrow trail, there was nowhere to go without knocking someone over. I flung my arms up to protect my face.

  The drone smacked into my stomach like a misguided bowling ball.

  I stumbled backward and tripped on someone’s leg. Then I was on my back, staring up at the rainforest canopy, unable to breathe. Pain constricted my abdomen and my whole torso felt tight. The crashing drone had knocked the wind from me.

  “Out of my way, I’m the only nurse among us!” Norma blocked out some of the green canopy. “You’re going to be okay, but I need to check you over, all right?”

  I didn’t have air to waste on speech, so I nodded, trying not to panic as my lungs labored ineffectively inside me.

  Norma yanked the satchel strap away from my collar bone and unbuttoned my shirt. She eyed my chest, then put her ear against one side, then the other. “I know you feel like you can’t get enough air, but your lungs are both functioning evenly, so you’re probably just winded. That means your diaphragm is stuck in a spasm. Keep taking slow breaths as best as you can and try to stay calm. It should go away in a few minutes.”

  I nodded again and focused on slowing down my shallow breathing and convincing my body it was getting enough air. Connor stood over me but let Norma work, worry tightening the skin around his eyes. Mum’s concerned face was there too.

  Norma put her fingers on my wrist to find my pulse and watched my face. Then held her finger up. “I want you to follow my finger with your eyes, can you do that?”

  I did as I was told.

  “Good.” She shifted around to reach gently under my head to feel for injury. “Now if you feel up to it, rolling onto your side and bringing your knees up toward your chest might help the muscles in your diaphragm relax faster. But if you feel any sharp pain from moving, stay where you are, okay?”

  I thought my breath was already coming easier. Or maybe I was squandering my oxygen less on anxiety. I raised my knees gingerly, and when that didn’t hurt, rolled to my side and brought them up farther. Norma supported my head as I did so. Almost immediately, I felt my taut muscles relax, and most of the pain left with it. I took my first deep breath since I’d been hit by the drone, then another.

  Which meant I felt good enough to feel embarrassed. My shirt was unbuttoned, I had leaves and dirt and hopefully not leeches in my hair, and I’d been taken out by a helicopterish thingy significantly smaller than Herbert.

  The leech possibility made me sit up fast.

  Norma put restraining hands on my shoulders. “Steady there. Are you okay? How do your ribs feel? Any sharp pains anywhere?”

  “No.” I started doing up the buttons. “I feel fine, really. I just had the wind knocked out of me and tripped over something when I stumbled backward.”

  “How’s your head? Did you bump it?”

  “No, it’s fine. I landed on leaf litter I suppose, and I got my elbows back there to break my fall.”

  She looked over my elbows, the mud bearing testament to this. Then she felt my pulse and studied my face again.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling okay. That’s a good sign, and your color’s better too. But to be on the safe side, I should advise you to get checked out at a hospital, or at least go home and rest.”

  I stood up and brushed myself down, checking for leeches. Connor went over my back and hair without my having to ask. Mum grabbed one of my hands and hung on to it as if fearing I might fall over again.

  I felt fine. I mean, like something had hit me in the stomach hard enough that it could bruise, and my elbows stung a little, but that was all.

  “I want to keep going. Daintree is incredible, and I’m fine. Really.”

  Norma pursed her lips. “Well, I can’t order you to go home. But you’d better tell me if you feel dizzy or faint, or you get a bad headache, or your abdomen feels bloated at all—”

  “Shall do.”

  She turned her gaze on Connor. “And if you think she looks pale or unstable, you tell me immediately.”

  “I will.” He stooped and pick
ed up the satchel, and I realized he’d been standing on the strap ever since Norma had pulled it from me. “I’ll carry this as well.” He slipped it over his shoulder and stepped closer for a gentle embrace. “You just focus on taking care of yourself.”

  I knew what he meant. I knew too that by carrying the satchel, he’d just moved the target from my back to his.

  Neither of us had expected the nomads to work so hard to get the satchel today. Unless they really had all been accidents. I realized that if it hadn’t been for the first break-in at our hotel, I would have believed them to be such. These nomads were clever.

  Misti prodded Ray forward. “Um, sorry about that, Izzy,” he said. He didn’t look particularly sorry. He was clutching what was left of his drone like a six-year-old who’d broken their favorite toy.

  Misti tut-tutted and shook her head. “I’m sorry too. I should probably stop him driving—or flying—altogether. The last time he checked over his shoulder before changing lanes he had to visit the chiropractor, so it’s no wonder he can’t keep an eye on a fast-moving drone overhead. But he can be awful obstinate at times.”

  Ray looked up from his high-tech toy. “What’d you say? I wish you’d stop muttering, woman.”

  Misti pursed her lips, then said, “I WAS ASKING IZZY IF SHE WAS UP TO THE CLIMB.”

  Gerrie stepped forward and clapped Ray on the shoulder. “Don’t mind Ray here,” he told me, speaking loud enough that Ray would hear every word. “I remember he drove me through peak-hour traffic in Sydney once—a difficult drive even if you’re good behind the wheel.”

  Ray glowered at this.

  Gerrie ignored him. “We had a few near misses and almost turned the wrong way down a one-way street. And then his GPS instructed him, ‘In three hundred meters, pull over and let me out of this bloody car!’”

  Gerrie roared with laughter, Ray rolled his eyes, and everyone else chuckled or at least smiled.

  Then it started to rain. Heavily.