by Drew Lindsay
Inspector Peter Martin covered the 26 kilometre trip from Cooktown to Black Mountain in record time. He hammered the mud splattered four wheel drive Nissan Patrol down highway 81, ignoring the occasional warning by his companion, Senior Constable Binda Spencer, that he may kill them both at any moment. That said however, Binda, a distant descendent from the local Aboriginal tribe, Kuku Yalanji, was enjoying the speed and occasionally smiled widely, showing pearly white teeth in contrast with her dark olive skin.
They came to a sliding halt in a cloud of red dust at the turn off to the Black Mountain lookout. Minutes later their four wheel drive vehicle pulled up along side Bobby Gumtree’s tourist van. Inspector Martin pulled on his broad rimmed police hat and stepped down onto the dry grass. He approached Bobby and the two shook hands. Binda walked to the front of the police vehicle and stopped. She wasn’t wearing a hat. She didn’t really need one. Her long black hair was curled up into a bun and attached to the top of her head with a large brown plastic clip. She rested her right hand casually on the holstered butt of a Glock 22 pistol, not because she felt threatened at this time, but more from habit.
The Price and Quinn families remained huddled together under the shade of a tree near Bobby’s tour vehicle. Little Beth had been washed. The front of her jeans and tee shirt were also soaked as frantic parents sought to remove all traces of blood. Beth was standing quite still and made no attempt to answer questions from her family or anyone else in the party.
‘I think we should get her to the hospital,’ Janice Price was saying to her husband. ‘Something dreadful has happened to her. Look at her!’
‘She’s not injured from what I can see,’ replied her husband.
‘I don’t care what you can or can’t see Jordan. I want her taken to hospital as soon as possible!’ Her voice was once again becoming hysterical.
‘What’s going on here Bobby?’ asked Inspector Martin. ‘Something happen to the little girl?’
‘Just shock.’
‘We heard you found bodies?’
‘Little miss found them first. That’s why she’s like that.’ Bobby waved vaguely at Beth Price. ‘She wandered off into one of the caverns and tripped over them. Covered in their blood the poor little thing.’
‘Better show us where they are eh?’ said Peter Martin.
‘I’ll point you to the entrance but no way am I going back in that Kalkajaka,’ Bobby replied.
Binda Spencer moved to Bobby’s side and laid a soft hand on his leathery, black arm. She looked back at Peter Martin. ‘Kalkajaka is the Aboriginal name for Black Mountain. It’s also called the mountain of death.’
Inspector Martin looked toward the group of tourists. ‘I’ll have a brief word with them first. You show us where the bodies are and then take your tourists back to town. No press Bobby. Not a word of this. You warn your group to say nothing.’
‘They don’t know nothing,’ said Bobby. ‘I didn’t tell them and the little girl hasn’t said a word since she came out of the cave. I think they better take her to the hospital.’
‘Alright, but I want Ruth to examine her.’ He turned to Binda ‘You got Ruth’s number?’
Binda nodded and searched her mobile phone contacts. She clicked on the contact which read: “Dr. Ruth Cruise. G.P. and Forensic Pathologist.” Ruth answered immediately. Binda moved away and spoke softly into the phone.
‘Bobby, you recognise the deadens?’ asked Inspector Martin.
‘Didn’t take close enough look boss. Too busy gettin out of there. One’s a woman and the other a little girl I think. They are both chopped up pretty bad. They both have lost their right hands.’
‘What?’
Bobby looked back at his group of sombre tourists. He lowered his voice. ‘Both had their right hands cut off boss. Oddest thing I’ve ever seen.’
‘How dark in that cave?’
‘Black as hell itself. Probably full of bats and lord knows where those snakes are hiding.’
‘I’ll get a torch.’ Peter Martin strode to his Nissan Patrol police vehicle and opened the rear hatch. He removed a large portable searchlight and indicated for Bobby to accompany him to the group of tourists. ‘I’m Inspector Peter Martin from Cooktown police station. I know your trip hasn’t turned out as expected today but please bear with us for a few more minutes. I’ll have Bobby drive you back to town soon.’
Janice Price was stroking her daughter’s hair. Her husband Jordan looked haggard and lost. Janice lifted her eyes to the policeman and gazed at him for a long moment. ‘Something in that mountain did this to my little girl. She needs help.’
‘I’m having a very experienced Doctor take a look at her at the hospital when you get back to Cooktown. Her name is Dr. Ruth Cruise. She is extremely good with children. My partner is arranging it now.’
‘You shouldn’t let people come out here if the mountain is dangerous,’ said Jordan Price. ‘You should put up signs and stop the blacks doing tours out here.’
Peter Martin took a step towards the diminutive and sunburned Jordan Price. Jordan took a step backwards. ‘I understand that you have all suffered a bit of a shock out here today and we are going to have this little girl examined by a Doctor very soon.’ He looked at the others in the group. ‘Bobby is going to show me where he found this little girl and I will investigate.’ He fixed his eyes on Jordan Price. ‘These “blacks” as you call them, were the custodians of this land long before we got here and this mountain is sacred. It’s also dangerous and that is why we have tour guides like Bobby, take you to safe viewing locations. He can’t however, be responsible for all your children as well. That’s your job as parents. Your little girl wandered off. That’s your responsibility. She’s your kid. I understand Bobby went into that damn dangerous mountain and got her out.’
‘Ruth’s on her way to the hospital,’ called Binda
Inspector Martin kept his eyes fixed on Jordan Price. ‘Now you all get into that tourist van and I’ll have Bobby start the motor and put the air conditioning on. I’ll need Bobby for a little while and when he comes back he’ll drive you to the hospital and your girl will be seen to. Do you understand me?’
Jordan Price nodded…defeated.
Peter Martin gestured to Bobby to open his van. The small group of visitors climbed inside without a word. Bobby started the motor and turned on the air conditioning. The sliding door closed and he headed for the animal track running beside the viewing platform. The uniformed policeman followed with his partner close behind.
Bobby stopped as they approached the gaping entrance to the cavern beneath massive grey boulders. The faint hum of the idling tourist van motor was initially the only sound they could hear, but this was suddenly replaced by dozens of clicking sounds which became a roar from the upward direction of thousands of boulders piled hundreds of metres above them to the mountain’s peaks. The roar softened momentarily and then increased for several seconds. Suddenly, as if governed by the downward plunge of a conductor’s wand, the noise ceased altogether.
‘What the hell was that?’ Peter Martin gazed upward, scanning the huge mass of granite rocks.
‘Frogs,’ said Bobby. ‘Boulder frogs. Thousands of them up there. Must be a storm on the way.’
‘Then you better get your tourists back to town. The deadens in there?’
Bobby pointed into the cavern with a shaking, outstretched hand. ‘You smell em boss?’
Peter Martin looked back at Bobby and then to his partner Binda. He turned on the huge searchlight. Its beam penetrated the darkness beyond. ‘Yeah, I can smell them. Get your people out of here Bobby….and don’t call me boss.’
“****”
Chapter Three