Forest Spirit

by David Laing

  Feeling both relieved and guilty for disobeying her uncle, Jars entered the woods. Dark shadows shivered and bobbed around her. The dog, grinning at the prospect of a new adventure, trotted at her heels, ears pricked.

  The track was becoming familiar; its twists and turns; the occasional obstacles of overhanging branches and fallen trees; the birds she had seen earlier, still flitting from bush to bush, twittering and squabbling among themselves and an area she knew better than any other, the place where Quenton had dashed out of the undergrowth with panic in his eyes. That’s when she saw it. Quenton’s camera.

  It lay beside a native pine, its brown case barely visible as it blended in with the bark of the tree. She raced over and picked it up. Now all I have to do is find its owner, Jars thought … and Snook.

  She was about to return to the main track when she saw a familiar figure. It was the wombat, and as before, it urged her to follow. ‘The cave,’ Jars whispered to herself. ‘It wants me to go to the cave again.’ She hesitated. What if she missed the boys? They’d return to the camp and find it empty. Then they’d probably start worrying about where she was. But going to the cave seemed important. Gritting her teeth, she decided. ‘C’mon, Shadow, I think the Forest Spirit wants to see us.’ Looping the strap of the camera over her shoulder, Jars and Shadow hurried to catch up with the wombat, which had forged ahead, barely visible in the shadowy light.

  At the entrance of the cave, Jars froze. On top of the large boulder, like sentries, were two black snakes. They hissed and flicked their tongues as she drew near. They hadn’t been there before. She wondered whether the snakes had been sent for by the cave’s ghost … to protect the cave and its secrets? Nah, that was too way out. But still … She let the thought drift in her mind.

  To enter the cave she would have to squeeze past them. She guessed that they were tiger snakes, the deadliest snakes in Tasmania. The ranger had told them that. Not that she was afraid of snakes. The words of her parents came to her … ‘Don’t be scared of them, just give ’em a wide berth, then they won’t hurt you.’

  Without a sideways glance, the wombat waddled past as the black, unblinking eyes of the snakes watched him disappear from view. That’s when Jars understood. ‘Don’t ask me how, Shadow, but the snakes are expecting us. Normally they’d have slithered away. They would have been frightened of us. But they’re not. That’s obvious. I reckon it’s safe to pass.’

  Not entirely convinced of her reasoning, she took a deep breath, then, careful not to make any sudden movements, she wriggled past. Her eyes never left the two snakes, which lay still and silent barely an arm’s length from her face. She crawled through the opening and into the cave, closely followed by Shadow, who barely glanced at the snakes.

  Finally inside, she reached into her pocket and took out her torch. She switched it on and made her way towards the carving on the wall. Once there, she shone the torch onto the figure. She studied the swirls, animal tracks, and jagged circles with renewed interest. This time she wasn’t afraid.

  The small, round-looking shapes, the circles – what were they? What did they mean? Definitely not animal tracks. Like those, they were arranged in a rough, larger circle, except for two near the bottom right-hand corner. Strange, she thought, it’s like a riddle – a mystery.

  The figure on the wall began to change.

  As before, she stood transfixed, staring as the image of the ancient being appeared. ‘What is it?’ Jars asked, more to herself than the figure. ‘What is it you want?’

  ‘The rocks are weeping. Kodkuna yultan.’

  The meaningless words whirled about in her mind. Then, as the distant gurgling of the underground stream reached her, the words began to make sense, and all at once she knew what the ghostly figure was telling her.

  The words ‘life’ and ‘protect’ formed in her mind. That’s it, she told herself. The ancient being has been asking me to save his animals; he’s telling me to protect life. That’s why he said the rocks were weeping. They’re a sort of symbol that’s showing how sad the spirit of the forest is. Somehow, somewhere out there, his animals are in danger. But how? And what animals is he talking about? She didn’t know, but one thing seemed certain. Whatever’s going on out there, Snook and Quenton are somehow involved.

  The image faded. Jars headed for the exit, wondering what her next move should be. A surge of fear and excitement stabbed her in the heart like a bolt of raw electricity. Let’s go, Shadow. We have to find the boys! I think they’re in terrible danger.’

  Jars didn’t even notice the snakes on the boulder as she and the dog hurried outside. Neither did she see the wombat, which was following closely behind.

  Evelyn Grimshaw paced the floor of her living room. Her visitor, a large bald-headed man, sat back in an armchair watching her. He rose to his feet and walked over to the window, where he stood, arms behind his back.

  ‘I’m not a happy man, Evelyn. You assured me that everything was in place, that nothing could go wrong. The trouble is, it has. You’ve failed me. You’ve botched the job.’

  Evelyn stopped pacing. ‘Now listen here. It wasn’t my fault that those kids and that Jim Kelly decided to camp where they did. I was even going out there a little while ago … to warn them again about going into the forest. But then I find the father walking down the lake road with an empty petrol can in his hand.’

  ‘And he had a disturbing story to tell, didn’t he, Evelyn? Would you care to explain how his car was interfered with, or would you like me to tell you?’

  Evelyn’s cheeks burnt crimson and her lips pressed tightly together. She walked unsteadily to the nearest armchair and sat down. She cradled her head in her hands.

  The man turned and faced her. ‘Yes, I thought so. You know, don’t you? You know there is only one possible explanation. Your brothers. Who, I might add, have managed to alert Jim Kelly. He must now realise that something untoward is occurring in the area. Granted he doesn’t know everything, but one wouldn’t have to be a rocket scientist to realise that something was amiss. Now, thanks to your brothers’ idiotic behaviour, we’ll soon have Kelly and Reg Carter hot on our heels.’

  Evelyn lowered her hands and looked up. ‘I know all that. The question is, what to do now?’

  ‘What do you suggest?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Reg Carter’s not back from Hobart yet. I say we set out now, load the boat and disappear, before he returns. The Kelly man won’t bother us until then. He’s waiting for a ride. His only hope there is Carter. I’ve passed the word around town that he’s a lunatic who likes to make up weird stories. So, we’re safe on that score. No-one around here will be giving him a free ride.

  ‘What about the children?’

  Feeling more assured now that she had made a decision, Evelyn pushed herself up from the chair. She walked over and stood before her visitor, the man who was going to pull the final stages of the plan together. ‘Oh, they won’t worry us. After aIl, they’re just a bunch of kids. Anyway, I don’t expect they’ll stray far. My bet is that they would have been told to stay in their camp area.’

  ‘They worry me.’

  Evelyn laughed. ‘They worried me too, when Jim KeIly was around, but now he’s not, so what’s your problem?’

  He was silent.

  Evelyn tilted her head slightly, studying his face, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes. ‘Look, it’ll be simple,’ she said, not because she felt any sympathy towards him, but because he was a vital cog in their success and she wanted to reasure him. She didn’t want him pulling out now. ‘The kids won’t even know we’re there,’ she went on. ‘After all, we’re going by boat. If they should see us, we’ll just be a couple of anglers out fishing. The main thing to worry about is whether the birds will be caged and ready to be moved.’

  ‘What’s the likelihood of that happening with those two idiot brothers of yours managing that side of things?’

  ‘We can only hope that they’ve been hard at it and have got everything r
eady for the transfer. If they haven’t, and remember, they’re not to know we’ve put forward the schedule, we take what we can and leave the rest.’

  ‘Very well, it’s against my better judgment but we’ll carry on with the plan, so start moving. Get the car ready. If we’re going to succeed we’ll need to leave right now. And Evelyn …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘This had better work.’

  Jars sniffed the air. A heady smell of smoke was drifting in her direction.

  Wary now, she slowed. The smell grew stronger. She crouched and peered through the undergrowth. ‘Steady, Shadow, don’t make a sound.’ The dog dropped to the ground alongside Jars.

  Carefully, so as not to stand on a twig that could snap and betray her, she crept forward. A padding sound behind her made the nape of her neck prickle. She swivelled around. It was the wombat. ‘Thank goodness it’s only you,’ she whispered. ‘For a moment I thought …’ She didn’t really know what she had thought. There were still too many unknowns.

  She questioned her thinking. Was she over-reacting?

  Smoke from a camp fire did not necessarily mean foul play; it could well belong to an innocent camper or anglers. Deep down, she knew that was not the case; too many things had happened – the lights, the intruders in their camp and her uncle’s car. ‘Let’s go, you two,’ she whispered to the two animals by her side. ‘Let’s see what’s really going on.’

  It was then that she saw the Grimshaw camp.

  There had been a fire, recently doused with water. The flames had gone out, but the residue of the damp coals still gave off a thick, peaty smell. Near the smouldering ashes, still tied up with rope and propped up against the large rock, was Quenton. Alongside him, suffering the same fate, was Snook.

  Jars held her breath and stared, hardly believing what she saw. One thing was certain; Snook and Quenton were in deep trouble. She lay flat on her stomach and watched, trying to figure out what to do. That’s when she caught sight of the two men.

  The big one was busy stacking wooden boxes, while the other one, who was carrying a rifle, stood nearby. She strained to see what the boxes were. They looked like cages. She was too far away to see what they contained.

  Apparently satisfied, the men headed back towards their campsite. Jars took a deep breath, hugging the ground, afraid even to raise her head. Following her cue, Shadow and the wombat did the same.

  As she lay there, her mind whirled, trying to make sense of it all. What were the two men carting in the cages, and why had Snook and Quenton been tied up? It was a mystery. But one thing was certain. Somehow, she needed to rescue them. But how? She racked her brain, thinking carefully. If she crept as close as she could without being seen and untied them, they could then make a run for it. But if they were spotted the man with the rifle might just decide to use it. She couldn’t risk that. There had to be a better way, some sort of diversion perhaps – a distraction that would give her time to release the boys and get away.

  The sun had appeared from behind the clouds but its stay was brief. It started to set behind the mountains, and with the coming night, the breeze picked up, murmuring across the lake like a lost soul.

  This gave Jars an idea. She would wait until darkness. With the cloud covering, any stars would be hidden. It would be close to pitch black. This would give her a better than even chance of releasing the boys without being seen. Satisfied that her plan would work, she settled down to wait for nightfall.

  Shadow and the wombat had something else in mind, something that Jars had not even thought of.

  Jim Kelly paced up and down the gravel drive outside the ranger’s office. A thousand thoughts raced through his head. He needed to get back to the camp, to the kids.

  His friend had not returned, and the few people that he had seen and asked for help had declined. Some had done this politely; others had seemed edgy, as if he was a psycho. In a way he didn’t blame them; even to him his story sounded crazy.

  He continued pacing, every now and then glancing at his watch. It was getting late. The afternoon had sped by quickly; it would soon be dark. He cursed silently. It looked very much like Reg would not be returning before tomorrow.

  Hating himself for leaving the kids, and knowing that he had no way of getting back to them before dark, he made a decision. He’d telephone the police and hope that they would believe him. If they did come, it would be at least two hours before they got here, but, he reasoned, it was his only option.

  He need not have worried.

  The ranger’s four-wheel-drive was coming down the gravel road. It was just past six o’clock. His body physically relaxed. He’d be with the kids before dark. Then, to his surprise, he saw that there was a second car, bringing up the rear. Reg Carter turned off the road and into the driveway. The second car followed. It was a police vehicle.

  The ranger pulled to a stop. He leapt out of the car. ‘Hi, Jim. Sorry I’m late.’ He swivelled his head, looking around as though searching. ‘Where are the kids?’

  ‘Back at the camp. Look, that’s what I’m worried –’

  His friend didn’t let him finish. ‘Jim, some things have happened that you don’t know about. I don’t mind telling you, it’s left me sick in the stomach. That’s why the police are here. There are some things going out there in the forest that …’

  ‘Yes, yes, Reg, but other things have been happening too. To me and the kids. That’s why I’m here, in town. To see you. To get you to help us. Reg, I gotta tell you, I’m worried sick too.’

  The ranger, seeing the anguish in his friend’s eyes, frowned, then nodded. ‘Okay Jim, steady up. I can tell you’re upset. You go first. Tell me what’s up.’

  The frown on the ranger’s face grew wider as he listened to Jim’s story. ‘Okay, Jim, I get the picture,’ he said. ‘We’d better get out there now, while there’s still light.’

  At that moment, one of the men, who wore a grey suit and tie, got out of the police car and hurried towards them. He addressed Jim. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Luciano.’ He held out his hand. ‘I believe you’re camping in the area we’re interested in. Reg told us you’d gone out there.’

  Jim shook the police officer’s outstretched hand. ‘Interested in? How do you mean?’

  The ranger butted in. ‘Bird poachers. Apparently it’s been going on for some time. They’ve been smuggling the birds interstate – lorikeets, rosellas, and the smaller types too like robins, fantails and firetails. This was to be their last job. From all accounts, it was to be a massive haul. The Inspector rang me on my mobile and we arranged to meet in Burnie. That’s what delayed me getting here.’

  Chief Inspector Luciano interrupted. ‘Reg’s expertise is well known to us. We’ve used his knowledge of animal genetics and so on before. If a bird turns up in, say, Victoria that isn’t a native of that state, and if the owner hasn’t got a permit for that bird, then Reg can tell us where it comes from. We’re more than a little concerned about the poaching and smuggling that’s been going on and we needed all the help we could get … to stop them. Our informant tells us that this is their final job, a big one; they’re planning to ship out their cargo tomorrow, via Cray Bay.’

  Jim startled at the mention of his town. ‘But how … ? How do you know all this?’

  Inspector Luciano explained. ‘The wife of the leader of this mob made a phone call to us. It’s as simple as that. She told us all about it. She said she couldn’t stand the strain any longer, of knowing what her husband was up to. Apparently she heard him planning the scheme on the phone, how they were operating somewhere in the Timber Creek area near a lake. When she confronted him, he told her they needed the money. He also warned her to keep her mouth shut. Threatened to rough her up if she didn’t. Charming, eh?’

  ‘Who is this man?’ Jim asked.

  Reg raised his hand. ‘Inspector, Jim’s worried about the kids. They’re still out there. From what Jim’s just told me, they’re not alone. Let’s leave the explanations and get out
to them. They could be in serious trouble.’

  The Inspector pointed towards the mountains. ‘There are children out there? Alone? Good heavens, I didn’t realise. Let’s go then. Reg, you show us the way.’

  Inspector Luciano jogged towards the police car where the other two officers were still waiting. Jim wished he could have explained to the Inspector why he’d left the kids behind. He knew he’d made the wrong decision. He’d misread all the signs. He had thought the events at the camp were serious, but not to this extent. He had also thought his trip into town would be reasonably quick. That he’d get the fuel and a lift back to their camp by at least that afternoon. He had been wrong; he should have stayed. Reg would have come along eventually. ‘Stupid,’ he muttered under his breath, ‘I’m stupid.’

  ‘What’d you say?’ Reg asked when they were on their way.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just hoping the kids are okay – that nothing’s happened to them.’

  Reg Carter pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, causing the four-wheel-drive to fishtail on the loose surface.

  Jars continued to lie flat on the grass watching as the two men stood around the still smouldering camp fire. Every now and then, the skinny one glanced towards the lake as though expecting someone.

  They’re waiting for a boat to arrive, she thought to herself. Then they’ll load the cages, and whatever’s in them, onto the boat. After that, they’ll disappear.

  But what about Snook and Quenton? Would they take them too? She bit her bottom lip, questioning her earlier plan. From the skinny one’s actions, the boat could arrive at any minute. If she left it until dark before she acted, it could be too late.

  The thin, wiry man sauntered over towards the two boys. Jars heard him laugh, a humourless, high-pitched, brittle sound. Her muscles tightened as she watched him slowly extract a knife from his belt. Laughing again, he cleaved the air with the knife, a long, thin, wicked blade. He twitched it back and forth in front of the boys’ faces like a dowsing rod. Jars grimaced. She knew that it was blood, not water that was on the man’s mind.