by Nicola West
Dan had obviously held back.
‘Oh my god,’ I said, raising my hand to my mouth.
‘What?’ Owen panicked.
‘You’re fucking hideous. He’s ruined you.’
I saw realisation slowly dawn on Owen’s face and began laughing. He raised his fingers to his eye and lightly dabbed at his skin before examining his fingertips. He’d clearly expected to see blood. A hint of embarrassment flushed over his cheeks.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ I asked, flipping him the bird.
‘Just one,’ he replied, giving me the finger back.
‘Do you think you’re concussed?’
He shook his head, wincing as he did.
‘Name, location and current prime minister, please?’
He looked up at me and sighed. ‘Owen Archer, literal hell and Kevin Rudd.’
‘Yeah, you’re way too sassy to have a concussion. I don’t think we’ll be needing an ambulance, do you?’
‘It still bloody hurts,’ he huffed, though there was a hint of shame in his voice.
‘I’m happy to call a doctor if you want to get it checked out but I’m pretty sure they’ll just say to ice it.’
I wasn’t actually happy to call a doctor. I wasn’t happy to call anyone. I didn’t want people asking questions about Dan’s involvement or encouraging Owen to report the assault. I needed to downplay things and using Owen’s embarrassment against him seemed like a solid plan.
‘Seriously,’ I continued, ‘it’s really not that bad. I’m sure it hurts like hell, and you’ll have a pretty nasty bruise for a few days, but it’ll heal up fairly quickly as long as you get the ice on it nice and quick.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, gently prodding at the swelling with his fingertips. ‘I guess you’re right.’
We sat in silence for a while as he continued to absentmindedly touch his eye. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but, as the minutes stretched on, I became worried that he was reconsidering his need for medical intervention. Behind us, the harbour’s waves gently lapped at the blackened shoreline.
‘I know this is the last thing you want to hear,’ I began, ‘but you’re pretty lucky he went so easy on you. I’ve seen him do far more damage than that.’
He raised a bemused eyebrow then immediately regretted it. ‘Is this the moment where you tell me what a pussy I am?’
I was shocked that he had managed to see straight through me but I was able to recover.
‘God, no! I know how fragile a man’s sense of masculinity can be. And – unlike some – I’m not stupid enough to question it.’
That gleaming smile was back. ‘I clearly hit a nerve though. Didn’t I?’
I gently reached out for Owen’s jaw and tilted his slowly bruising eye towards me. ‘Yeah, and Dan clearly hit more than that on you.’
He locked eyes with me, and I realised how close our faces were. I watched as his pupils darted down. His lips parted as he stared at mine. That longing, which I found so repulsive, was back.
I traced my fingertips up his face and could sense his breathing becoming shallow. I could feel his bone-structure underneath his taut flesh – those high cheekbones that formed the scaffolding for his good looks. There was a sense of architecture to his face. I could acknowledge the beauty of it, but nothing more.
He leaned closer to me, and the shifting of the sand beneath us sounded like rain. Strangely, I didn’t feel that horrible sensation on my fingertips. Maybe because I was the one touching him. I was the one in control.
He tilted his head.
Opened his mouth.
And yelped, as I prodded the delicate flesh under his injured eye.
‘What the fuck, Marlowe?’ he spat, lurching backwards.
‘I was trying to feel if the socket was still intact. I thought maybe that’s why it hurt so much, but it feels fine.’
‘To you, maybe!’ he snapped, dabbing at his watering eyes.
‘Sorry.’ I shrugged.
He went to open his mouth but was interrupted by the sound of something substantial hitting the sand next to him. We both jumped a mile.
‘Fore!’ Dan shouted, up on the footpath.
I reached out and picked up the cold package, concerned that it had burst on the sharp sand. Thankfully, it was still intact.
I passed it to Owen, who held it against his eye before immediately hissing in pain.
‘Fuck, it’s cold!’
‘That’s kinda the point,’ I said, smiling sympathetically.
‘It’s got bloody sand all over it, too!’
I sighed and pulled off my flanno, taking the package from Owen and wrapping the shirt around it. I passed it back to Owen and tugged awkwardly at my singlet. My arms and chest felt exposed.
‘Thanks.’
‘I always thought you must feel safe living at the cottage,’ Dan called out as he jumped down onto the beach. ‘I mean, it’s next to the police station, and you have your own personal inspector guarding you.’ He walked closer to us and I could see that he was sucking on a blue Zooper Dooper that he’d clearly stolen out of my freezer. ‘But considering I just walked through your unlocked front door, raided your freezer and walked back out while your dad snored on your couch, it’s a bit of a worry.’
‘Did you at least bring enough for the class?’ I asked, pointing at the ice-block.
‘Nope, fuck y’all. This is my reward.’
‘Your reward for what?’ I snapped. ‘Assaulting someone? You’re lucky he’s not fucking pressing charges, Daniel!’
‘I didn’t rule that out,’ Owen said, peering out from behind the bag of vegetables. ‘I only refused the ambulance. After all, there’s a police station right across the street.’
I’d expected him to flash that smug smile, but he didn’t. It seemed it wasn’t a joke. I nervously looked at Dan.
‘You said it yourself, Marlowe,’ Owen began. ‘He assaulted me. I have every right to report it.’
‘But you won’t, right?’
‘I don’t know, I guess that’s up to you.’
There was something in his voice that put me on edge.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I mean, your friend was certainly willing to do a lot to protect you. I guess I’m just curious what you’d be prepared to do to protect him?’
It felt like something was slithering underneath my skin. Something that would never go away, no matter how hard I scrubbed. My eyes darted between Owen and Dan. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to sink into the sand. To go back to when Saddleback was still a volcano.
To be alone.
Anywhere but with Owen.
CHAPTER 46
‘You fucking creep,’ Dan seethed at Owen.
‘Marlowe,’ Owen began, his smile saccharine, ‘why don’t you send your mongrel away, so we can talk?’
‘I’m not going anywhere!’ Dan spat.
I looked at Owen. He was staring at me with that nauseating smile. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest. I wanted to leave – both of them – to get up, walk away and not turn back. But Jarrah’s story was too fresh in my mind, and I knew I could stop it this time.
‘He doesn’t have to go far, just out of earshot,’ Owen continued. He turned around and surveyed the foreshore. ‘There,’ he said, pointing at the swing set past the footpath. ‘Is that somewhere everyone feels comfortable with?’
I looked at Dan, and he shook his head.
‘Go, Dan,’ I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt. ‘It’s fine.’
‘No!’
‘Then how ’bout we all head over to the police station?’ Owen asked. ‘Though, it’d be a shame to have to wake up your father, right, Lo?’
‘Dan. Go. Now.’
He started to open his mouth.
‘Do it!’
He finally turned on his heels and slowly walked up the beach towards the playground.
‘Good boy,’ Owen said, his smile transformed into a cruel smir
k.
I watched Dan’s fist clench into a tight ball, but he didn’t turn back around. For a split second, I wanted him to. The sounds of the sand crunching beneath his feet grew fainter with each step.
Owen carefully peeled my flannelette shirt off the frozen veggies and handed it back to me. It was already wet, and yet I still slipped it over my arms. Anything to put a barrier between my bare skin and his. He removed the tea towel and pressed the bag of vegetables directly against his eye. Streams of condensation dripped down his forearm. The bag had already begun defrosting in the warm night air.
He turned to face Dan and, when he saw him slump down onto the swing’s seat, he gave a condescending wave before spinning back to me.
His entire demeanour had changed.
‘Listen to me, Marlowe,’ he said, his voice unsettlingly cool. ‘You have to accept –’
‘I’m not accepting anything. Not until I know exactly what it is you want.’
His eyebrows buckled and he winced in response. ‘What?’ he asked, seemingly puzzled.
‘Cut the shit, Owen. What’s it going to take for you not to report Dan?’
He burst into laughter, and I felt an overwhelming urge to claw at his swollen eye.
‘Fuck, Lo,’ he said, still chuckling. ‘You know I don’t give two shits about your mate, right? I was just trying to get him to piss off so we could talk.’
I stared at him. ‘You’re not going to report him?’
‘Nah. You said it yourself, I was asking for it.’
‘I didn’t actually say that.’
‘It was heavily implied.’
I looked over at Dan. Owen followed my gaze.
‘The bloke needs serious help though. Anger management treatment at the very least.’
‘You have no idea what it’s like growing up here. It’s fit in or fuck off. And if you can’t…’ I trailed off, thinking about Jarrah.
‘So,’ Owen broached. ‘I take it you still want to get out of here?’
‘More than anything.’
He removed the bag from his eye and gently dabbed the excess moisture away with his sleeve. The bruising had taken hold – a deep purple hue that only served to highlight the arresting colour of his eyes. His expression had grown serious once more.
‘Then accept what Michael said, Lo, and drop all this Lily stuff. If you agree that you’re unwell, he’ll give you everything you want – far more than you’d ever get by selling her story. He got her the cadetship; he can get you one too. You’ll finally be able to escape from here.’
Owen’s words hit me like a strike to the head. I felt dizzy – like the whole world was spinning – but I was somehow able to get to my feet.
He knew.
Owen knew.
But had he known the whole time?
‘Marlowe?’ Owen asked, springing to his feet. ‘What are you doing?’
I ignored him and began walking towards Dan.
‘Marlowe, stop,’ Owen said, stepping in front of me. ‘We need to talk about this.’
‘I just want to go home, please.’
‘Lo, listen to me,’ he said, placing both hands on my arms, effectively holding me in place. ‘I’m trying to help you. You need to forget about the marks, forget about the journals, and do what he says. Please, you have to trust me.’
‘I can’t trust anyone.’
‘Yes, you can. He’ll take care of you. He’ll give you everything you want. You just need to let all this go. It will all make sense, I promise.’
‘Let me go, Owen. I need to go.’
He stared into my eyes pleadingly but finally relaxed his grip. I pushed past him and headed back towards the police station. I didn’t turn back.
‘What happened?’ Dan asked as I stepped onto the pavement. He looked over my shoulder down onto the beach. It seemed like Owen hadn’t followed me.
‘Nothing. I just want to go home. Give me my keys.’
‘Jesus, Lo. Tell me.’
I brushed past him and continued walking. He ran to my side.
‘What the fuck did you agree to?’ he asked, panic-stricken.
‘Nothing,’ I replied, honestly. ‘He was just trying to scare you. He had no intention of reporting you.’
‘Then why are you acting so fucking weird?’
‘I’m not,’ I replied, but immediately recognised how robotic it sounded. ‘I’m just tired. I want to go home. Please give me my keys.’
He passed them to me but looked me up and down suspiciously. ‘You’re really freakin’ me out, Lo.’
‘I’m fine. Seriously, go home. And don’t start shit with Owen on the way. He was willing to let it slide once, but I don’t think it’ll be a repeat offer.’
‘I don’t think that’ll be a problem. He’s already fucked off back to the hotel.’
I turned around to make sure he wasn’t lying. To my surprise, there was no sign of Owen.
‘Good,’ I said, pausing at the bottom of the steps up to the main road. ‘Now seriously, piss off.’
I began climbing the stairs and Dan sighed below. ‘One of these days you’re going to tell me what the fuck has been going on, Lo.’
I ignored him and darted across the street.
I walked up the steps to the cottage’s verandah and opened the front door. Dan hadn’t bothered to lock it. My dad was still fast asleep on the lounge, the television blaring in the background.
I turned off the television, but my dad didn’t stir. I walked to my bedroom, peeled off my soggy flanno and flopped down onto my bed. I stared at my heels, which Dan had carefully placed on my bedroom dresser. I felt sticky from the sand and sea salt but was too exhausted to shower. I just wanted to sleep.
After all, in spite of Owen and Michael’s threats, Jarrah and I still had an early morning the next day.
Nothing was going to stop me from exploring that rainforest.
CHAPTER 47
‘You look like a fucking Irwin!’ Jarrah said as he climbed into the LandCruiser at Dunmore Station the next morning.
I looked down at the khaki-hued hiking ensemble I’d chosen, and realised it was an embarrassingly apt statement.
‘At least I don’t look like a futuristic, Bowie-arse star child. What the fuck are you wearing?’
Jarrah was dressed in head-to-toe black save for an oil-slick sun visor that hung low over his eyes, and a matching pair of iridescent Doc Martens. His pants were skin-tight – shiny and ruched – and his long-sleeved top was made out of some strange fabric that mimicked the look of chain mail.
‘Doc Martens, Sass and Bide, Alexander Wang and some obscure little shop in Tokyo that I can’t remember the name of,’ he said, pointing at each item.
‘What part of “hiking appropriate” didn’t you get?’
He looked at me, puzzled. ‘But I followed your directions perfectly. Long pants, long sleeves, boots and a hat.’
‘Hiking boots! And an actual hat that covers your bloody head!’
‘Same diff.’ He shrugged.
When he pulled on his seatbelt, I realised that his top was completely sheer with tiny holes in the fabric exposing his flesh.
‘You’re gonna get burnt to buggery in that,’ I said, tugging at his sleeve.
‘Not everyone has pasty skin like you, darling.’
He smiled sweetly. I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help but laugh.
‘You really have no idea what it’s like up there, do you?’ I asked, suddenly serious.
‘I dunno. Like FernGully, right? Just with more child murder?’
I didn’t laugh, and the weight of his words hung in the air. I turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the station. In the distance, the escarpment loomed. I could feel a sense of regret creeping in but tried to ignore it.
We turned off the highway onto Swamp Road. It was a twisting goat track of a path that sliced through pastoral farmland and eventually led to the tiny town of Jamberoo. We’d turn off before then though, and slowly climb Sadd
leback’s northern face. The mountain would gradually rise before us – the flat fields slowly transforming into dense and hilly rainforest.
‘What is it you think we’ll find up there?’ I asked Jarrah after the silence had become unbearable.
He turned towards me, but I kept my eyes on the winding road.
‘Proof.’
‘But what?’
‘I dunno. It’s just this gut feeling that I have. After everything that’s happened the past few days – framing the carny, silencing him, getting away with murder – I just feel like they’re untouchable.’
‘Then why the hell are we even bothering?’
‘No,’ he said. In my peripheral vision, I could see that he was shaking his head. ‘That’s not what I mean. I feel like if they are as untouchable as they seem, then maybe they get complacent about stuff – especially up there. I mean, there’s no one around for miles. It’s private property. No one’s going to accidentally stumble onto those clearings.’
‘I guess…’
Even I was shocked by how unconvinced I sounded.
‘Like,’ he continued, ‘I don’t think we’re gonna suddenly stumble upon some mass grave of their victims or anything. I don’t think anyone could be that complacent. But, based on what Lily told me and what was in the journals, I just feel like there’d have to be some sort of evidence of what goes on during those rituals.’
‘Even all these months later?’
He nodded. ‘There’s tradition and meaning behind why they conduct the rituals – a sense of mythology to their beliefs, no matter how crazy: the “Song of Solomon”, the volcano, the symbols. It’s almost like a religion. The area is clearly significant to them in some way. Maybe there’s stuff there year round? Stuff that marks what the area is used for?’
‘Like what though?’
‘Jesus, Marlowe,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t fucking know. It’s why we’re bloody going – to see what’s there!’
I thought of telling him about the post on the forum – about the electric fence, threatening signs and stories of the ‘psychopathic owner with the gun’ – but decided against it. He’d find out the first two once we reached the border of the property. I just had to hope that he wouldn’t come face-to-face with the third.