by Brett McBean
But Christ, I hope they’re not fucking the guy up. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the van while Brian got the…
“Hey, buddy, get a move on.”
Ray snapped out of his reverie.
He turned and gazed at the bespectacled man standing behind him. The man took one look at Ray, swallowed, and took a step backwards.
“Next,” the bored-sounding woman behind the counter intoned.
Ray glared at the man before turning around and stepping up to the counter.
He paid for the pre-made sandwiches and rolls, the doughnuts, bars of chocolate and bottles of drink, then strode out of the service station.
At the van, he dumped the bag of goodies on the passenger seat, then he walked around to the driver’s side, heaved himself inside and started the engine.
“You get me a can of Mother?” Brian asked.
“Yeah, I got your can of Mother,” Ray said, flicking his eyes up to the rear-view mirror.
Brian and Nathan were leaning against the sides of the van. Nathan was staring intently at the cigarette lighter he was holding; he was flicking the flame on, off, on, off. Brian’s feet were resting on Chris’s chest.
“Get your damn feet off him,” Ray said.
With a wicked smirk, Brian swung his legs onto the floor. “Always spoiling my fun.”
Ray gunned the accelerator and sped the van out of the service station, back onto the road.
“You okay back there, Chris?” Ray asked.
The Aborigine didn’t answer. Ray frowned. “Oi, Chris. You okay?”
“He’s fine,” Brian said. “What, you think we killed him or something?”
“Shut up. Chris?”
Silence. Then: “Yeah.”
Ray breathed with relief. “Christ man, you had me worried. You answer me when I talk to you, understand?”
“Whatever you say,” answered the tired voice.
“So,” Brian said. “What’s the plan?”
“We drive to the mountain, park the van, then hike up to Dead Tree. Simple.”
At least, it was simple in theory.
“And you’re sure you know how to get to the mountain?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Ray said. “That’s the easy part. It’s getting to Dead Tree Forest that’s gonna be tough. But that’s why we brought along our very own tour guide. Isn’t that right, Chris?”
“You don’t want to go to Dead Tree. Trust me, it’s a bad place.”
“Oh boy,” Brian sniggered. “Here he goes with his fuckin’ Abo mumbo-jumbo.”
“What’s bad about it?” Nathan asked, still idly playing with the lighter.
“Nothin’,” Brian said, snatching the Bic from his brother.
“It’s cursed,” Chris said. “Anyone who goes in, never comes out.”
Brian cackled. “Christ, sounds like some tag-line from a bad ‘80s horror movie.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Just a load of native superstition,” Ray said. “Don’t worry about it. Brian, there’s a map back there somewhere. Find it and tell me how to get to Forbes Mountain.”
“I thought you knew how to get there?”
“I know that Dead Tree is in the Forbes Mountain Range, and I know in which general direction the mountains are, but I still need directions on how to get there.”
Ray heard Brian mutter, followed by a lot of banging and cursing. Finally, Brian said, “Found the fucker. Here, you look Nathan.” Brian tossed the map over to his brother. Then he rested back against the van and lit up a cigarette.
After a spell, Nathan said, “Okay, keep on this road for a while. There’s a turn off to Bucket Road about fifty ks from here.”
“And that’s the road to the mountain?”
“Nah, there’s still a ways to go before you get to the road leading up into the mountain.”
“Fuck me,” Brian huffed. “You mean we still have to hike to the forest once we get to the mountain?”
“Yep,” Ray said. “And then we have to find the lake in the forest. God knows how long that will take.”
“We could be out there for days,” Brian shrieked.
“Possibly. What did you think all that camping equipment beside you is for?”
“I dunno. For show? Just so we can laugh at Nathan carrying it all?”
“Very funny,” Nathan said.
“Well, this treasure better be worth it,” Brian said, sucking hard on his cigarette.
Yeah, it’ll be worth it all right.
Ray looked up into the rear-view mirror. He searched for any recognition on Chris’s face. But Chris was lying flat on his back.
Ray wondered whether Chris knew about the treasure that was supposed to be lying at the bottom of the lake. He certainly seemed to know about the legend, the massacre at the lake of the girl and her family by the British colonists. Surely he must know about the treasure, too.
Thinking about the treasure, Ray’s mind drifted to his wife and three daughters, waiting for him back on the mainland, in their crappy weatherboard in Brunswick. In particular his twelve-year-old, Gemma, who had been diagnosed with leukaemia a few months ago.
In his head he heard crying: his wife’s, which was a nightly occurrence, and Gemma’s, upon starting the drugs and the sickness that followed.
And his own, in private; always in private.
“…tunes.”
Ray shook his head. “Huh?”
“I said turn on the radio and find some fuckin’ tunes,” Brian said.
Ray flicked on the radio, found the oldies station, and sat back and listened to John Lennon sing about instant karma.
* * *
Standing in a small clearing at the base of Forbes Mountain, Ray stretched his hands to the cloudless blue sky and breathed in the clean forest smells. Then he walked around to the side of the van, just as Brian slid back the door and jumped out. “Outta my way. I need to piss something shockin’.”
While Brian scurried off to take care of business, Ray peered into the van. Nathan was sitting against the side, asleep. Chris was sitting opposite Nathan, eyes glazed with fear. “Nathan, wake up.”
Nathan snorted awake. “We there?”
“Uh-huh. Now grab your rucksack and the Esky. I wanna get moving.”
Nathan grabbed a hold of his bag and tossed it out the door. Then he picked up the Esky and stepped out of the van. “This thing’s heavy, Ray. You don’t expect me to carry it plus my rucksack?”
“Fuck yeah,” Brian said, strolling back, zipping up. “And you won’t whinge about it, neither.”
“We all have to carry shit. So Nathan, you’re stuck with the Esky.”
“What’s Brian gonna carry?”
“My dick,” he said, grabbing his crotch. “That’s plenty big enough for one man to carry.”
“Brian’s carrying the sports bag, which is heavier than the Esky.” Ray hopped up into the back of the van, picked up his rucksack and tossed it out, then he did the same with Brian’s rucksack and the sports bag containing, among other things, equipment such as ropes. Unsheathing the hunting knife from around his waist, Ray cut the rope binding Chris’s legs. “Okay, out you get.”
Chris stared at Ray. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t want to go.”
“You don’t have a say in this. We’re going to Dead Tree, and that’s that.”
“But why? There’s nothing there except death.”
Ray eyed the Aborigine. “There’s more than death in there; there’s life.”
“Are you talking about the treasure?”
Ray drew in breath. He glanced back at Brian and Nathan. They were busy arguing about who was going to be carrying what. He turned back to Chris. “Not a word about the treasure to the others, you got me?” he growled. “They don’t know the truth. Now, get out. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Chris didn’t move.
“Fine, have it your way.” Ray reached over and grabbed the rope that bound Chris’s wrists. He pulled hard. Chris was
dragged sideways across the hard, bumpy floor of the van. He cried out. Ray let go of the rope. “See, it’d be easier if you simply obeyed.”
“The nigger causing problems?” Brian said, stepping up to the van.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Ray said.
“Get out, Abo,” Brian sneered, pulling out his knife. It was a flick-knife, smaller than Ray’s, but still lethal. “Stop fuckin’ around and do as we say, got it?”
Chris swivelled his body to a sitting position. He stuck out his legs, scooted forward and then set his feet on the ground. He stood up.
“Good. Now, don’t go doing anything stupid like trying to run away,” Ray said. “You wouldn’t get far, anyway.” He slammed the side door shut, walked up to the passenger door, yanked it open and took out the bag of goodies. After he locked the van, he walked back over to Brian, Nathan and Chris. “Okay, Nathan, you carry the Esky, Brian, you take the sports bag.”
“What about you?” Nathan said.
“I’ve got Chris,” Ray said. He opened the lid of the Esky and placed in the food and drink he’d bought at the petrol station, placing it on top of the beer he bought last night at the bottle shop adjacent to the Royal Arms, before he scouted the pub for prospective “tour guides.”
“We’re not gonna eat and drink first?” Brian asked.
“No,” Ray said. “We may not be surrounded by people, but the road isn’t that far away. Someone might see us, and then we’d be screwed.”
“But I’m fuckin’ starving,” Brian said. “And I could really do with a beer.”
“Once we reach Dead Tree Forest, then we’ll stop and have lunch. Okay guys, get your gear on.”
While Brian and Nathan struggled with their rucksacks, Ray stepped up to Chris. “Now, don’t play games with us. Don’t lead us in the wrong direction. We won’t hesitate in killing you and leaving your body in the mountain if you dick us around. Understand?”
Chris, looking at the gravel, nodded.
“Good. I knew you were a smart man.” Ray turned around. “Okay, you guys ready?”
Nathan, dwarfed by the rucksack and sleeping bag on his back, mumbled, “Yeah, I’m ready.” He picked up the Esky with a groan.
“Let’s get this show on the mother-trucking road,” Brian said, bulging pack looking like it could snap his skinny body like a matchstick. He held the long, heavy sports bag with both hands.
Ray picked up his rucksack and sleeping bag and slipped them onto his back with relative ease. Then he took a hold of the rope. “Okay, lead the way to Dead Tree,” he said to Chris.
“It won’t be easy,” Chris said. “There are no walking tracks up to Dead Tree Forest. It’s a long trek through thick wilderness.”
“Don’t you worry about us,” Ray said.
With a deep sigh that seemed to call to the spirits, Chris started walking, and the three men followed.
* * *
Without walking tracks or markers, the trek through the mountains was tough going. The day was far from hot, but it didn’t take long before all four of them were sweating rivers and panting like dogs in heat. Still, they managed to traverse thick tree roots, slippery moss, walk up and down steep gullies, and wind their way around monstrous King Billy pines without anyone getting injured.
By the time they reached a wide, flat clearing, Ray’s legs were aching, his lungs felt ready to burst and his clothes were drenched.
“Can we stop and have lunch now?” Brian breathed, looking tired and sweaty.
“How far is it to Dead Tree?” Ray asked Chris.
“Not far.”
Ray nodded. “Okay.”
Nathan and Brian dropped their respective hand-luggage to the ground, followed by their rucksacks. “Remind me to start going to the gym when we get back,” Brian said.
Ray let go of the rope and told Chris to sit down. Chris sat, and Ray shrugged off his rucksack and then opened the Esky. “Beer or Mother?” he asked Brian.
“Mother, then beer,” he panted, and collapsed to the ground.
“We haven’t got a lot of drink,” Ray said, “Aside from your can of Mother, we have only a six pack of beer, a few bottles of Coke and some bottles of water.”
“And your point is?” Brian said, lying on his back.
“There’s still a long way to go before we get to the lake. And then we have to get all the way back to the van. You might want to go easy on the liquid.”
“Okay, point taken. Give me the Mother.”
“Nathan?”
“Hmmm? Oh, a Coke.”
Ray tossed the drinks to Brian and Nathan, followed by two chicken rolls. Then he sat on the grass with a can of Coke and a ham and salad roll.
He had taken a few bites of the roll, taken a few slurps of the drink, when he noticed Chris staring at him. “You hungry? Thirsty?”
Chris nodded.
“Sorry, you’ll get some food and drink once we’ve found the lake. That’s the deal.”
Chris shut his eyes and turned away.
Ray saw Brian grin; Nathan was staring at the ground, vacantly picking at blades of grass while he ate his lunch. “Hey Brian, pass me your lighter,” Nathan said.
“Why? So you can flick the flame on and off like you always do?”
Nathan shrugged. “Yeah.”
Brian sighed and with a shake of his head, pulled out his lighter. “You can have it until we’ve finished eating, or until I crave a smoke; whichever happens first. I don’t want it to run out of lighter fluid—I didn’t bring another lighter or any matches.” He tossed the lighter to his brother.
Ray thought, Weird fuckin’ kid, and continued eating.
* * *
“Okay, we all done?” Ray asked as he tossed his empty Coke can to the grass.
Brian flicked a half-smoked cigarette to the ground, then got to his feet; Nathan also stood up and stamped out the small fire he had lit on a dry patch of grass and had been watching trance-like for the past ten minutes while he finished his lunch.
“Okay, up you get,” Ray said and tugged on the rope.
Chris was pulled to his feet.
Brian belched. “That hit the spot,” he said, grinning lazily. “All that walking really gave me an appetite. How ‘bout you, Abo, I bet you’re hungry?”
“No,” Chris said softly.
“Maybe he had some of them witchetty grubs while we weren’t looking,” Nathan said, snorting with laughter.
Chris closed his eyes and started speaking quietly.
“What are you saying?” Ray said.
Chris continued muttering to himself as a tear slid down his cheek.
“What the fuck are you mumbling about?” Brian said and stepping forward, he punched Chris in the face.
Chris grunted. Another tear slithered down his cheek, under his chin and down his sweaty neck. He swallowed. “I don’t want to continue. I don’t want to go to the forest,” he said. “It’s a bad place. I have a bad feeling.”
“Here we go again,” Brian said. “You’re fucking going whether you want to or not.”
“I want to get as much walking done before it gets dark,” Ray said. “So come on guys, put on your packs and let’s haul arse.”
While Ray slipped on his rucksack, Brian and Nathan struggled with theirs.
“I tell ya, I’m gonna get mighty sick of this thing before the trip’s over,” Brian muttered.
Once they were all ready, Ray said to Chris, “Okay, lead the way.”
Chris didn’t move.
“I said get going. Take us to the forest. You said it was close.”
“It is close,” Chris said. “I can feel its pain.”
“Then get moving.”
“No,” Chris said.
“The fuck you mean, no?” Brian said. “Want us to cut off your balls, Abo?”
“Don’t make this hard on yourself,” Ray said. “Just do as we say, and you won’t get hurt.”
Chris laughed. “I’ll get hurt if I do do as you say. You
all will. It doesn’t matter if you kill me—we’re all going to die anyway if we go into Boolool Kiambram.”
“Into what?”
“It’s the Aboriginal name for Dead Tree Forest,” Ray said. To Chris, he said: “I’ll be forced to drag you by your wrists if you don’t start walking. You’re going in there no matter what, so it’s your choice. What’ll it be?”
Chris shivered, glanced at Ray with fearful eyes, and then started walking.
“That’s more like it,” Brian said, and they all continued through the field.
They trekked through the lush open field for about ten minutes. Bell birds sung their sweet song, the wind whistled through the leaves of the surrounding woods.
Then, all at once, the world fell quiet. It was like a “mute” button had been pressed on the mountain.
Ray noticed it; Chris did too—he started looking around at the woods, grave fear etched on his face.
Nathan and Brian seemed unaware of the sudden absence of noise.
Then, rounding a bend, they saw it.
They stopped and stared at the hideous visage before them.
Brian spoke first. “Ugly fuckin’ forest.”
Ray swallowed, felt his gut tighten and his balls shrivel. “I’ll say.”
He had thought maybe the “dead tree” part was an exaggeration; that some of the trees in the forest simply weren’t as healthy as the rest. But the name was as accurate as anything Ray had ever known. Darkness hovered over the forest and radiated from its bowels like a thick black soup. But it was the trees that really gave Ray the creeps—and he didn’t unsettle easily. With their grey trunks and leafless branches, the trees looked like rows of skeletal soldiers guarding a shadowy castle.
“I’m guessing this is Dead Tree Forest,” Brian said, chuckling, but there was an underlying unease that was uncommon for Brian.