by Mark Mann
My attacker pushes me down, forcing me onto my stomach. I can feel one of his knees in my back. He’s too strong and heavy for me to push off. I might as well try to lift a car off my back. He pulls my arms behind my back and I feel him tie my wrists together with rough cord. I cry out in pain as he tightens the cord and it cuts into my skin. I can taste blood in my mouth, mixed with the taste of earth and dry leaves as he presses my face into the ground.
I hear a shout. I manage to twist my head just enough to see Mullimby run off into the forest. The man holding me barks an order at the tall skinny boy, who races off after Mullimby.
The man’s knee digs into my back. I feel like he’s breaking my ribs, squeezing the air out of me. It’s hard to breathe. Now he’s binding my ankles. His hands feel big and rough. I feel his hot breath on my back.
I can’t move. I lie on the ground, face pressed down in the dirt, my wrists and ankles bound.
The tall thin boy has returned from the bush. I can hear his voice. My captor stands up and the two men talk in urgent tones. I twist my head slightly until I can see them out of the corner of my eye. The man who tied me up is a giant, big and powerful, with wild eyes and a scar running down his cheek. He’s angry, shouting at the boy and waving his axe.
The boy lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of potatoes or an animal from the hunt. My face presses against his back. His sweat rubs into my eyes.
The men start to walk. They move fast, almost running. Spiky branches scratch my back and sides as we push through the bushes. Every step makes me bounce on the boy’s shoulder, so my nose keeps smacking into his back. It hurts. I’m not exactly travelling first-class here. I scream for help.
I feel a blow to the side of my head.
It’s the last thing I remember.
JACK
Kaya and the women aren’t back yet, so I sit by our hut and watch the men cut up the two kangaroos we caught today. I’ve eaten meat all my life, but until two weeks ago I’d never seen an animal being killed or butchered. Yet now it seems almost normal. Some of the little boys are kicking a rolled-up ball of reeds around camp. They want me to join in but I’m too tired. It was hard work keeping up with the hunt today.
Suddenly there’s a crash and Mullimby rushes out of the bushes. She’s hysterical, shouting and crying, waving her arms and gasping for breath all at once. Blood runs down one cheek.
I know right away it’s Kaya. Mullimby and Kaya are always together. I feel sick in my stomach. I look round for Billy to translate but before I can find him everyone springs into action. Bambalaroo leaps to his feet and gives orders. Men grab spears and clubs. Bambalaroo lets out a strange howl and the men run into the forest. There’s just me, Billy and Pullawarra left.
***
“Come on,” Billy says. Pullawarra sets off at a jog, the sweat glistening on his bare black back as he runs. It’s all I can do to keep up with him. I can hear Billy breathing hard behind me but Bambalaroo and the other men are already out of sight.
“They’ve got Kaya, haven’t they?” I gasp as we run.
“Yeah,” Billy says. He stops and gulps down a couple of deep breaths. “Gotta ... rest ... can’t keep up with you young fellas anymore.”
Pullawarra waits for us. He’s not even out of breath.
“Will they kill her?” I ask. I have a terrible thought. “What if she’s dead already?”
“Nah, they won’t kill her,” Billy says. “Not yet. They gotta take her to the Girrokool medicine man to do that ceremony, remember. We can still catch ‘em.”
“But they’ve got a head start.”
“Yeah, but they got to carry Kaya. That’ll slow ‘em down.” Billy has got his breath back now, and we move off again. We’re heading towards the cliffs. “The only way back to their country is across the river. The one that flows into the lake. If we can stop ‘em getting back to the river, they’ll be trapped. Then our men will hunt ‘em down.”
“But how will you stop them reaching the river?”
“Fire. We’re gonna burn along the river. Make a wall of fire. We been planning it, see. Had two boys stay up there all the time, waiting for Bambalaroo’s signal. But now we got to get you up above them cliffs. This fire’s gonna be a big one. Dangerous one. We don’t want you getting caught up in it, do we? The women and kids too.”
We’re across the wetlands now and climbing the slope towards the Stony Stairway.
“That Mullimby, she’s no good at listening,” Billy mutters. “I told her not to take Kaya off like that.”
***
We keep climbing. Pullawarra leads the way, moving effortlessly, while Billy wheezes behind me. Down below, I can see orange flames and smoke rising from the north end of the Baytown plain.
We’re at the foot of the Stony Stairway. We start to climb.
Suddenly there’s a sharp snap behind us. Someone stepping on a fallen branch.
Someone’s coming.
“Hurry,” Billy mutters. He says something in Dunjini to Pullawarra.
We’re halfway up the Stony Stairway now, clambering over the rocks that form the stairs. Pullawarra skips easily from one boulder to the next but Billy is struggling.
We hear more twigs break below us.
We’re almost at the top of the gully when I look back and see them. It’s the same two Girrokool, the ones I saw arguing with Billy and the others. There’s Bantara, the giant with the scarred face. And behind him the tall skinny Girrokool boy.
This wasn’t in the plan.
The Dunjini men were meant to trap the two Girrokool down on the plain and hunt them down. That’s what Billy said. Somehow they must have given them the slip. Maybe they guessed the Dunjini would try to cut them off at the river and decided to escape this way, over the High Plateau instead.
The Girrokool boy carries what looks like a sack slung over his shoulder. With a jolt, I realise the sack is Kaya. Her body flops limply, her legs slapping against the boy’s stomach as he springs from rock to rock. It’s impossible to tell if she’s dead or alive.
Bantara looks up and sees us. He growls something at Billy. His voice is deep and harsh.
The Girrokool are getting closer. Any second now they’ll catch us. I look at Billy and Pullawarra. We can’t let them pass or they’ll get away with Kaya. But the three of us are no match for Bantara. He must be seven feet tall, and he’s built like a character from Ultimate Fighter 6. It will take more than a lame old man and two kids like us to stop him. (And did I mention that I’m a wimp. My twelve-year-old cousin beats me at sock wrestling. What chance have I got in a real fight with axes and clubs and spears?)
Billy turns and says something to Bantara but the giant Girrokool just grunts. He pushes Billy to the ground with one sweep of his arm and raises his axe to strike him.
But now a strange thing happens.
Bantara freezes.
Seeing his chance, Pullawarra throws himself at Bantara. He must be half the weight of the Girrokool, but he has the advantage of being higher up the slope. Bantara stumbles backwards and loses his footing. His axe clatters to the ground as he falls.
Now it’s Pullawarra’s turn to strike. He swings his axe. But even on the ground, Bantara is too strong. He throws up his arm and catches Pullawarra’s wrist. It’s enough to deflect the blow. Instead of burying itself in Bantara’s skull, the axe thuds into the ground beside him. Pullawarra, already unbalanced by the force of his swing, topples forward. He cartwheels down the rocky slope and lands with a thud.
Bantara springs to his feet. He’s quick for such a big man. He looks around for his axe.
Except I see it first. Lying on the ground between us. And suddenly some basic survival instinct takes over me and I swoop down and grab the axe before Bantara can reach it.
And I hurl it as hard as I can.
The stone blade of the axe hits Bantara’s left shoulder and stays there. He roars in agony and looks down in surprise at the blade stuck in his shoulder, t
hen back up at me. Dark blood oozes around the sides of the axe. Bantara sways. To my horror, he begins to stagger towards me, his bloodshot eyes open wide like a zombie. He’s so close I can feel his breath on my face. He raises his hand to strike me. But as he’s about to bring his fist down, I see his eyes glaze over and roll in their sockets. His hand swipes the air in front of me and he slumps to the ground with a mighty crash, like a tree being felled.
I’m too shocked to move.
Seeing Bantara fall, the Girrokool boy drops Kaya. I hear her groan as she hits the ground. Thank God, she’s still alive. The boy reaches for his axe. Our eyes meet and I realise he’s scared too. Like me.
There’s more crashing and Bambalaroo and the other Dunjini men emerge from the bushes at the bottom of the gully.
The Girrokool boy casts around for an escape route. The sides of the Stony Stairway are sheer walls of rock. The only two ways out of the gully are up or down. But the Dunjini are below him and I’m blocking his way up. I’m obviously the weakest link. He takes a step towards me, axe raised. I’m defenceless.
I press myself against the side of the gully. It’s enough to give him an opening. Now he has a choice. He can fight me. He’ll kill me, no doubt, but it will slow him down long enough for the Dunjini to reach him.
Or he can run.
He has to decide fast. The Dunjini are closing in behind him. Our eyes meet again and he gives me a tiny nod—of thanks, it feels like—and pushes past me into the forest above.
One of the Dunjini men raises his spear but before he can hurl it into the boy’s back, Billy calls out. The man stops his throw. And the boy is gone.
***
Three of the Dunjini stand over Bantara, who is still lying where he fell. The axe is still stuck in his shoulder. Blood runs down his chest.
Kaya! I race over to her, but Pullawarra is there first. With quick flicks of his axe he cuts the vines binding her ankles and wrists. Kaya sits up and groans. She wipes some blood from her forehead.
“I felt like a dead kangaroo, being carried around like ...” She trails off and looks across to where Billy is kneeling beside Bantara. Billy speaks urgently to Bambalaroo then in one swift movement jerks the axe out of the man’s shoulder. Blood spurts out of the wound. Bambalaroo presses down, trying to stem the blood. Bantara moans. Someone hands Billy a clump of leaves and Billy spits on them and rubs them between his palms into a sticky wad and presses it down onto Bantara’s wound. He holds it there until the bleeding stops.
“I thought I’d killed him,” I say.
“Will he live?” Kaya asks.
“Yeah,” Billy says. “With the right medicine plants, he should recover. He’s lucky. The axe just missed his heart.”
“What will you do with him?” Kaya asks.
“That’s up to you, Kaya,” Billy replies. “He was going to kill you, so the law says you must decide what happens to him. If you want, Bambalaroo will spear him through the heart.”
“I don’t want anyone to die,” Kaya says.
“Thank you,” Billy says. “He’s not a bad man. He was just trying to help his people. He believed you were making them sick. Also ...” Billy pauses, “... he’s my son. He grew up here with us, but he married a Girrokool girl and went to live with them. The boy is Lampulu, his son. My grandson.”
“So that’s why he didn’t kill you when he had the chance,” Kaya says.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Billy. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did the only thing you could. He would have killed Pullawarra,” Billy says. “And they would have got away with Kaya.”
***
Grey smoke covers the plain below so we continue up to the High Plateau. It takes four men to carry Bantara, who is barely conscious. Every so often he groans softly. We walk through the forest until we come to a large rock overhang that will provide shelter from any rain. The women and children are already there, busy building campfires and sweeping the ground. The men lay Bantara down and some of them head off to hunt.
Mullimby shrieks with relief when she sees Kaya, and rushes over and gives her a long hug. She has a large bruise on her forehead and a cut on her cheek. Everyone talks at once, asking questions and pointing at us and Bantara.
After a while the hunters return with a wallaby. They cut it up and put the pieces on the fire and there’s the sickly smell of burning animal hair. I’m used to that now. It mixes with the smoky smell rising from the plain below. The sky over Baytown has turned grey with smoke.
Our corner of the camp is like a sick bay. I’m okay but Kaya, Pullawarra, Billy and Mullimby are covered in bruises and cuts. And there’s Mabaya, the boy who was guarding Kaya. He’s got a big gash on his head. Kaya tells me he was clubbed when the Girrokool seized her. Kaya has sore wrists and ankles where they were tied, and a red lump on her forehead. She vaguely remembers being hit on the head.
But Bantara is the worst of all. Billy sits beside him, cleaning his wound and whispering gently to his barely conscious son.
When the wallaby is cooked we sit by our fire and eat. Billy says the bushfire on the plain will be good. It will clear the forest and the ash will fertilise the soil, bringing new growth, which will bring animals to feed.
But by then we’ll be gone. Because tomorrow the moon will be full again.
***
I wake up feeling nervous. Today is the day. The full moon. But what if it doesn’t work? What if we don’t get home? Well, I guess we’ve got to trust Billy. What choice do we have?
It’s rained overnight. There are puddles in front of our cave. Billy says the rain will have dampened the fire, but the air is still hazy with smoke. No one seems too worried though; everyone is busy preparing for tonight’s ceremony. They spend all day painting their bodies red and white. Dots and circles and lines. Mullimby paints Kaya and Pullawarra paints me. The men make masks from tree bark while the women make headdresses and bracelets and ankle decorations using sea shells and brightly coloured parrot feathers.
“If only we had our phones. We could take some amazing pictures to show people when we get home,” Kaya says.
“If we get home,” I correct her. Let’s not tempt fate.
***
The ceremony begins at dusk. Naturally we’re the guests of honour. Billy leads us into the middle of the clearing and the Dunjini surround us. Billy makes one of his long sing-song speeches. Then he puts on his mask and begins to chant.
“Binjin pulla banja, binjin pulla binja, binjin pulla banja ...”
He begins to stamp his feet in rhythm with the chant. The other Dunjini join in, chanting and stomping, slowly circling around us. They shake sticks decorated with feathers and leaves. The women sit on the ground and clap pairs of short sticks together.
Clack-clack, clack-clack, clack-clack ...
Binjin pulla banja, binjin pulla binja, binjin pulla ...
I’m watching for the moon to rise, trying to stay focused. We can’t risk missing the portal. But as hard as I try, I feel my mind drifting. The chanting and clap-clap-clap of the sticks are too hypnotic. I’m losing track of time. It’s dark now and the colour has drained from the sky. There’s nothing but dancing and clapping and chanting. In the dust and smoke and orange flicker of the fire the dancers become Dreamtime spirits summoned by the ceremony.
Billy’s voice snaps me out of my trance. “Jack. Kaya. Let’s go.”
How long has it been?
But there it is. The moon. Big and white, sitting low in the sky just above the trees.
The chanting rises to a crescendo and the circle of dancers parts and lets us through—Pullawarra, Billy, Kaya and me. Binjin is secret business, Billy has told us. None of the other Dunjini are allowed to see us go through the Stone Gate.
I take one last look back at the Dunjini, lost in their hypnotic, swaying dance, still chanting and stomping.
Binjin pulla banja, binjin pulla binja, binjin pulla ...
To
my surprise, I realise I’m sad to leave them.
Billy leads us into the bush. After the orange glow of the fire the moonlight is silver and cold. As we walk, the chanting fades slowly into the night. After a while, Billy stops at a pool and tells us to wash.
“You don’t want to go home with all that fancy paint,” he says.
Once we’ve washed, we continue along the narrow forest path until we reach the Stone Gate.
Kaya takes Billy’s hand and squeezes it. “Thank you, Billy,” she says. “We’ll never forget you. And Pullawarra and Mullimby. Everyone. You’ve been so kind to us.”
“We gotta look after binjin spirits,” Billy says. “It’s the law.”
I’m no good at speeches so I give Billy a quick, awkward hug instead. And Pullawarra.
“See you, mate,” I say to Pullawarra.
It’s more than an expression: he has become my mate. I’ll miss him. He hugs me back. He grins. “Mate,” he says. I laugh. I taught him that.
“You must find us if you come to our world again,” Kaya tells Billy. “We live in Koolibar Street—number six.”
“I don’t know. I’m gettin’ too old. Maybe I’ll come one more time, to show Pullawarra.” Billy hesitates. “One last thing,” he says. “When you get home, best not to tell anyone about this, eh? You’re good kids but there are many bad people in your Dreaming. People who might use the binjin rock wrong.”
He points towards the moon.
“Now,” he says. “It’s time.”
As he speaks, moonlight floods into the Stone Gate. The space inside the arch turns a blinding white, just like the first time.
“Go,” Billy says. “Quick.”
We run towards the Stone Gate. The light is dazzling.
For a second, Kaya hesitates. She turns to look at Billy and Pullawarra one last time.
“Don’t stop, Kaya,” I yell. I grab her hand and pull her into the Stone Gate.
We step into the light.