by Des Hunt
Ham shook his head vigorously. ‘No way! Not that program. Chizza would’ve checked that—he’s very security-conscious. Those computers are so protected. And he makes sure he’s the only one who ever works on them.’
Yes, Luke thought, I bet he does. He wouldn’t want anybody else looking—
The dogs began barking their heads off. Not the excited yelping from earlier, but deep, throaty barks.
‘C’mon!’ shouted Ham. ‘They’ve got something.’ He was already on his way, and Luke had to sprint to catch up.
Deeper into the forest they went, with the dogs’ barking getting more insistent. Ham was much faster than Luke, and he seemed to know where to find solid ground. Luke didn’t, and twice a foot found a hole and he hurtled forward onto his face.
Then the barking changed to growls. An instant later, the piercing squeals of a terrified animal filled the forest. The pig had been cornered.
Now Luke’s running became more urgent. After wishing so long for this to happen, if he didn’t hurry he was going to miss out on the action.
Then Ham started yelling: ‘Hold him! Hold him! Keep holding him, boys!’
Luke crashed through some undergrowth to find Ham caught in a clump of wait-a-while.
‘Help me! Luke, put your foot on that bit there. Hurry!’
Luke jammed his foot down, and a large piece of vine came free, along with a chunk of Ham’s shirt.
The pig continued to squeal.
‘Now that one! Quickly!’
Luke got it just as the dogs started barking again. The pig stopped squealing.
‘Shit!’ cried Ham pulling himself free. ‘He’s got away.’
Once again the hunt was on, but this time Luke was close to the action and getting glimpses of the dogs and the pig.
It went on and on. Soon something had to give, because Luke felt he couldn’t run much further.
But nor could the pig. The dogs latched onto it again, and the squealing returned. Ham and Luke burst into a small clearing to find it backed into a thorny bush, with a dog hanging off each ear.
The squealing intensified. Yet despite its fear, the pig was still trying to rip into the dogs. Kirk was too agile to get caught, so the pig concentrated on Spock. It jerked its head up stabbing into the protective harness, close to the edge. Too close. The harness started to pull away.
‘Kill it, Ham!’ Luke yelled. ‘Kill it!’
Ham had the knife out and was trying to get a line into the animal. ‘I’m trying,’ he said, moving into the side that Kirk held. The pig turned until that side was protected by the thorn bush.
‘You come in from the other side!’ yelled Ham. ‘Get it to turn towards you. We’ve got to shift it.’
Luke moved forward, determined not to show his fear. Inside, everything was churning. This was one seriously wild, vicious animal.
A couple of steps more and he had its attention. The pig turned towards him, dragging the dogs with it. Two more steps and it was ready to have a go.
‘Bit more,’ urged Ham.
The moment Luke lifted his foot, the pig charged. Kirk was taken by surprise and lost his grip, but Spock held on just enough to slow it down. Ham threw himself forward, thrusting the knife into the animal’s side. It screamed. The pig jerked its head sideways to get at Ham. Again, Spock held it back just enough, and the slashing tusk missed Ham’s chest, coming away with just a patch of shirt.
Before it could have another go, Kirk was back onto the ear. Now it was pretty much over. With blood pouring out of its chest, the pig was weakening. It stopped squealing. The hindquarters slumped over. Slowly its head lowered until it was touching the ground. The limbs continued to twitch for a while, and then they too were still. It was dead. Luke’s first Aussie pig hunt had been successful.
Chapter 18
Ham and Luke danced around like they were Aborigines at a corroboree.
‘What a team!’ yelled Ham, giving his son high-fives. ‘What a bloody beaut team!’
Then the dogs got some attention. They were sprawled on the ground, their tongues out, puffing furiously. Ham gave them both a hug, with Spock getting the longest one. ‘Thanks, old boy,’ he said into the dog’s ear. ‘If it hadn’t been for you, it might be me lying there on the ground.’
After that Luke gave them each a hug, because he figured they’d saved him as well, especially Spock. If he hadn’t held on, then the pig might have got free.
Next they examined the pig. It was a big old boar with tusks as long as Luke’s hand.
‘You going to carry it out?’ Luke asked.
‘Nah! It’s too old. The meat won’t be great. Anyway, lots of the pigs in the rainforests are full of disease. I kill them. I don’t always eat them.’
‘What about the tusks? Can I have them?’
Ham smiled. ‘You want something to hang on the wall, eh?’
Luke nodded.
‘OK, let’s see what we can do.’
Detaching them wasn’t as easy as Luke had thought, but with some cutting and a lot of bashing they had each tusk out.
‘All right,’ said Ham, ‘we’d better head back to the ute. Chizza will have calmed down now and could be waiting for us.’
They took it slowly, giving the dogs the chance to recover. Both seemed to know it was all over, for they were no longer leading the way with their noses to the ground. Spock trotted alongside Ham, while Kirk seemed to think he should be attached to Luke.
Again they stopped at the fallen tree for a drink.
They’d just resumed their trek when they heard a shot, loud enough to make Luke duck.
‘Geez!’ said Ham. ‘That was close.’
‘Do you think it was Chizza?’
He shook his head. ‘Not unless he’s doubled back, and I don’t think he’d do that. It’s too dangerous.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Let’s get out in the open where we can be seen.’
They never made it. They’d hardly moved when once again the forest was pierced by screams. But not from a pig this time: these were human, and nearby.
‘Somebody’s in trouble,’ said Ham. ‘Follow me.’ He started running in the direction of the sound. ‘Hang on, mate!’ he yelled. ‘We’re coming!’
The screams stopped, to be replaced a short time later by a voice. ‘Help me! Ham, help me!’ It was Chizza.
They ran faster. The dogs figured something was up and leapt to the front, not wanting to miss out on the action. ‘Get behind!’ yelled Ham. Spock obeyed, but Kirk ignored the call. A moment later, he was growling and snarling at something. By the time they caught up, Kirk had gone into battle.
It was a cassowary. On the ground behind it was a dead chick about the size of a turkey. More chicks were hiding in the bushes. Part-way up a strangling fig was Chizza, holding on as if his life depended on it. Probably it did!
Kirk was snapping at the bird while trying to dodge its flailing claws.
‘Pick up the gun and shoot!’ yelled Chizza. The gun was on the ground at their feet.
Ham made no move towards it. Instead, he started shuffling backwards. ‘Move back, Luke. If we give it some space, it’ll go away.’ When they were about five metres away, he yelled, ‘Kirk! Get behind!’
It was clear that Kirk was going to come out second-best in this fight.
‘Kirk!’ screamed Ham. ‘Get off!’
But it was too late. The cassowary launched itself forward, throwing both feet at the dog. Kirk was bowled over. Before he had a chance to get up, the bird was preparing for another attack. Spock left Ham’s side and rushed forward, barking wildly.
‘No!’ yelled Ham. ‘Behind, Spock!’
As Spock turned to retreat, the cassowary struck, slicing down across his hindquarters. The dog screamed as he collapsed to the ground. Once again, the cassowary readied for attack. Kirk was now back on his feet. He moved behind the cassowary, barking noisily. It was enough to distract the bird and give Spock the chance to drag himself into a bush. His hindquarters were useless.
‘Now shoot it!’ yelled Chizza.
Ham looked at the rifle lying on the ground, before slowly shaking his head. ‘No. We wait.’ Then he yelled to Kirk to get behind. This time the dog obeyed.
‘I will fall off soon!’ cried Chizza.
‘Then fall off,’ replied Ham. ‘I’m not killing that bird because you were stupid enough to shoot its chick.’
Luke expected Chizza to protest more, but instead he moved to a better position to wait.
With nothing happening, the cassowary soon lost interest. It nudged the dead chick with its beak a couple of times before moving away through the undergrowth. A couple of throaty calls brought the surviving chicks out of hiding to follow their father into the safety of the forest.
Immediately, Ham rushed to Spock’s aid. The dog was now whimpering softly. He looked up at Ham, pleading for help.
‘Yes, old boy,’ Ham said, ‘I’ll help you. But first we’ve got to get you out of there.’
With Luke’s help, Ham managed to slide Spock out without inflicting too much additional pain. It was then that they got a clear look at the injury. It was bad. A claw had ripped down between the thigh and the belly, wide enough for some of the gut to spill out. Blood was everywhere. Ham took off his shirt and held it against the bleeding flesh.
He turned to Luke. ‘Hold that there while I get out the first-aid kit.’
The shirt was soon soaked in blood, so Luke took his own shirt off and placed that on top. By then Ham had the kit open and was threading a needle.
‘Are you going to sew it up?’
Ham nodded, grimly. ‘Have to, or he’ll die.’
A voice came from behind. ‘Anything I can do?’ It was Chizza, now back on the ground.
Ham looked at him in disgust. ‘Yes—get lost!’ He then returned to repairing the dog.
It was a slow, horrible job. While Ham worked with the needle, Luke held Spock’s head, stroking him and attempting to soothe him with words.
Chizza had not taken up Ham’s suggestion. At first he sat on the ground playing with his rifle. Then he began creeping around with the gun at the ready, sneaking between trees as if he was a member of a SWAT team about to take some terrorist out. He looked pathetic.
Eventually, it was done and they were ready to leave.
‘I can carry the dog,’ offered Chizza.
‘No! I take him,’ said Ham. ‘Pick up my pack and take that.’
Chizza did, and after covering their torsos with sunscreen they were on their way.
That hike back to the ute was enough to put Luke off pig hunting forever. The sun burned into his bare back, the dust clogged his nose, and every time he breathed through his mouth insects would sneak in. However, he dared not complain. It was a lot harder for Ham. He had to cope with the same things and carry Spock. Cradling the dog to his chest must have been killing his back, and yet he never said a thing for the entire trip. Luke’s respect for Ham was growing.
With Ham on the back of the ute supporting Spock, and Chizza driving, they started back for Cape Tribulation. The journey was almost as tough as the tramp out from the forest. A couple of sunburnt patches on Luke’s back scraped against the seat every time they went over a bump. Then there was the rifle sitting between him and Chizza. The thing bashed against the floor, the dashboard, and too often against Luke—an unpleasant reminder of the events that had happened last time he’d been that close to a gun.
Chizza saw his concern and smiled. ‘Are you scared of guns?’
‘No!’ Luke said quickly. ‘Is it loaded?’
‘I do not know: you can check.’
Luke shook his head.
‘Ha! You are scared of guns.’
‘I am if they’re going to shoot me,’ he said indignantly.
Chizza chuckled. ‘It has no bullets in it. So there is no need for you to worry.’
After that, they drove in silence for some time, before Chizza asked, ‘If you are not interested in guns, what are you interested in?’
‘Computers.’
‘Computers, eh?’ said Chizza, looking sideways at him. ‘Me, too. What sort of things about computers? There are so many things you can do with them.’
You bet. Like stealing an old lady’s money. Out loud he said, ‘Just about everything. I want to be a programmer.’
Chizza’s eyebrows went up. ‘A programmer! You have to be good at mathematics to write programs.’
‘I am.’
‘So am I. I enjoy the challenge of programming. I write a lot of programs to control the computers I service.’
This was Luke’s chance. ‘Did you write the program for that photo viewer on the computers at The Nest?’
There was a significant pause before Chizza answered. ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, I just wondered. I thought that if you’d got it off the Internet it might contain a virus.’
‘It does not contain a virus,’ Chizza replied sharply. ‘None of my programs do.’ A longer pause this time, before: ‘You can check it and you will not find a virus.’
No, because you’re clever enough to make a mask so nobody can see it.
From then on Chizza drove silently, staring at the road except for the occasional sideways glance. Luke wondered if he’d said too much. But if he was ever to get proof, he had to do something that would force the matter.
Spock was dead before they arrived back at The Crocodile Nest. Ham said he’d died not long after turning back onto the Bloomfield Track. It was obvious that since then Ham had been mourning the loss of his friend. Luke, too, was affected by his death. Although he’d known Spock for only a day, he’d enjoyed his friendly company and admired his bravery. Spock had died trying to help his mate Kirk, and that deserved a lot of respect.
Ham carried Spock into the forest behind the pen, while Luke got a couple of shovels from the workshop. Chizza had disappeared, which was probably just as well.
They took turns in digging the grave.
‘Why did Chizza shoot the cassowary chick?’ Luke asked during a break.
‘He probably thought it was a pig.’
‘It looked nothing like a pig.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Ham, quietly. ‘He’s done things like that before. Echidna, bandicoot, tree kangaroo…He’s not very good at identifying his target.’ He turned and looked at Spock’s body. ‘Other times, only the animal died.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Aw, getting on a bit. I got him soon after I came over here, so he was at least eleven.’
‘Was that when you were in Sydney?’
‘Sydney?’
‘Yeah, when you were studying to be a chef.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ He looked away. ‘Actually I was out of Sydney a bit. But it was around about then.’ He hopped back into the hole and continued digging.
Something was wrong here. For some reason, Ham didn’t want to talk about Sydney. Luke wondered why, but now was not the time to probe further.
Soon afterwards, they finished digging the grave. Spock was lowered to the bottom, and they took turns shovelling in the dirt. When that was done, they stood side by side, looking at the mound.
‘Goodbye, mate,’ said Ham, softly. ‘I hope you’re in a place where there’re lots of shady trees, and you get steak every day. Sleep in peace, mate. You deserve it—by God, you deserve it.’
Luke put his arm around Ham’s waist, who responded with an arm over his son’s shoulders. Both had tears in their eyes. It was several minutes before they parted, but for Luke they were special minutes: the emotions of the occasion had raised their relationship to a new level. One that held promise for the future.
Chapter 19
Luke slept for twelve hours that night, only waking a couple of times when the bush chooks were at their noisiest. Somehow the screaming didn’t seem so bad now that he knew the cause.
His first stop was the bush chooks’ nest. He tippy-toed around the back of the workshop as Andy had suggested, and wa
s rewarded with a clear view of the birds scraping at their nest. In the darkness of the forest, their most obvious feature was their large, orange feet. The rest of the body was dark, almost purple in colour. A triangular crest on their heads made them look slightly alien.
They stopped digging as he approached, but soon got back on the job when he leant against a tree. They were busy excavating a hole in the top of the mound where Luke assumed the eggs were buried.
He decided that he liked these birds. Their night calls were exciting, like something out of a horror movie, and they built an incubator to hatch their eggs. Other birds might sit on a nest for weeks, but these guys did a bit of work night and morning, and had the rest of the day to themselves—a pretty clever way to live.
Ham was already at The Nest when Luke got there. He looked a bit better than the previous morning, although his eyes suggested that some heavy drinking had been done the night before.
Over breakfast, he gave his news. After Luke had left for bed, Ham had gone over to the Reef Sands Resort to find Chizza and sort things out with him. There, they’d met up with Beth and Lora. During a conversation about things tourists did, Chizza suggested that they should visit Port Douglas and go fishing for barramundi in the estuary. He would lend them his truck for the day. They could even have his boat if they wanted. Ham had declined the boat, saying it would be better to use a charter, but he’d accepted the truck. So before the evening was finished it had all been arranged: Beth, Lora, Ham and Luke were going fishing for the afternoon. They were to leave at eleven.
Luke figured that this was Chizza’s way of apologizing for his behaviour on the pig hunt. Or maybe he was just trying to make out he was Mister Nice Guy in front of Beth. Did he know that she was one of his victims? If so, then his actions were probably a smoke screen; a front to show he could not possibly be suspected of anything criminal.
After breakfast, Luke went to the games room to check his emails. He didn’t get the chance, though. As soon as he entered the room, he was grabbed by a man, who pulled him over to a computer where a woman was sitting.