by R. B. Shaw
Jan stared blindly trying to see through the abraded windscreen. Only the sound of the slipstream signified airspeed. She turned and peered behind anxiously. Kless’s Skymaster was nowhere in sight. ‘Have we enough altitude to glide to the airstrip on the far side of the island?’
‘Doubt it, too heavy and no power. We’re sinkin’ rapidly. If I try to maintain altitude, she shudders and tries to stall. Start scannin’ below for somewhere to put ‘er down!’
The side windows remained clear, though Jan’s forward vision showed only small strips near the metal frame that somehow survived the abrasive onslaught of volcanic dust. The terrain below exposed steep ragged ravines, jungle-clad foothills and acres of planted palms. ‘We could try to reach the sea and ditch in the shallows. Maybe land on a beach,’ she suggested then hesitated. ‘Fang! Off to port, a large swamp. Looks to be plenty of room!’ The muddy surface was infested with salvinia weed and sparse mangroves. She knew these usually grew shallow-rooted and would help cushion the ditching.
Fang peered through the narrow clear strips and turned into wind. ‘Drop the flaps for a landin’ but keep the undercarriage up.’
Jan assisted with cockpit drill and saw the swamp approaching at an alarming speed. A deadstick touchdown in a twenty tonne aircraft with poor forward vision would be tricky and dangerous.
‘No second chances now. Tighten your seat belt.’ Fang trimmed the Invader to touchdown tail first on the green and brown slush. Sudden loud thumps were amplified through the cabin as the Invader’s wings sheared through the soft mangrove trees. The aircraft decelerated with a deafening roar. The impact wrenched them into the swamp in a tremendous cloud of spray and displaced shrubbery. The Invader slewed endlessly sideways and gradually slid to a stop. Clouds of steam plumed from the still hot engine.
Fang quickly lifted the canopy. ‘Jan! Get out and run to the wingtip!’
Jan stopped briefly to confirm the white clouds were only steam and not smoke from a fire. All seemed safe and she turned to assist Fang in the cockpit. She saw the sparkle of a small birdlike shape hurtling across the trees toward her. Kless’s Skymaster side-slipped as he tried to get a better view. ‘Fang! Kless is still hanging around.’ The plane roared overhead almost within reach with a distinctive ringing drone typical of the twin-tailed aircraft. It climbed steeply, stall turned and flew low overhead again to confirm the crash site. It then disappeared rapidly towards Kaviak.
Fang sat forlornly on the wing and studied the surrounding swamp. Except for the ditching furrow, it remained a tranquil scene. Huge lotus lilies nearly a metre across covered the still waters. Their waxy green leaves floated around tall stems topped with yellow-hearted lilac flowers bigger than dinner plates. ‘We’ve got few options Jan. Kless knows where we are on his estate. It’s likely his men are already on their way.’
‘How about we make for the coast?’ Jan gazed across nearby crowded mangroves at distant coastal forest and palms. ‘I estimate it’d be less than three kilometres north through the swamp.’
‘No, that’s the direction Kless’s men’ll come from. Our only chance is to head south.’
Jan stared at the south side of the swamp. Pandanus and dense jungle obstructed the way. Thickly forested ridges beyond clung to the lower volcanic slopes. ‘Okay, let’s do it. Better take anything of use.’
Fang scrounged in the cockpit. ‘We only got a survival kit and a machete.’ He wrenched the Invader’s compass from its metal mount, ‘… and a compass.’
‘I’m taking my video camera,’ Jan suggested. ‘We can use the zoom as binoculars.’
Fang wanted a gun urgently. ‘Gonna try gettin’ to the Uzi’s. They’re stowed below in that special compartment.’ He tried unsuccessfully to access the bomb bay from inside, then dropped down into the muddy water and swore loudly with frustration. ‘The full weight of the bloody plane’s sittin’ on the closed bomb bay doors and they’re below water level.’ A distant movement caught his attention. ‘Jan! Grab the machete and get back in the cockpit!’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘A bunch of people comin’, north side of the swamp,’ He scrambled back onto the wing, climbed into the cockpit with Jan and closed the canopy.
Jan used her video camera to zoom in on the approaching men through a narrow clear gap. ‘There’s about ten natives, all armed with spears and axes.’
‘You can bet it ain’t a rescue party.’
The Sangami warriors approached with extreme caution, scantily dressed in primitive regalia. They halted a hundred metres in front of the plane wreck and argued heatedly. Fang and Jan kept out of sight below the combing.
Jan watched them with concern. ‘They’ve stopped! What’s happening?’
‘They’re primitive people, little contact with the outside world. They’ve seen planes flyin’ over, but probably thought they’re the same size as a bird. I’d say they’re scared of the size, especially with the teeth and eyes on the nose. To them it’d be some giant devil bird.’
Jan dared a quick look. ‘Didn’t last long. Two of them are creeping in for a closer look.’
‘Sorry, luv,’ Fang grasped the handle of his machete. ‘Looks like the deception is over.’
45
Two bold warriors stood near the nose of the Invader. Clearly, they argued who should venture up to the evil-looking plane. Fang suddenly turned to Jan. ‘Hit the master switch. How’s the battery?’
Jan frowned, confused, but turned on the master. ‘26 volts. What are you up to?’
‘Switch on the nav’ lights, rotatin’ beacons and strobes. That’ll give ‘em somethin’ to think about.’
With the sudden display of strange lighting and brilliant flash of the strobes, the warriors splashed away through the swamp.
‘It’s workin’! Now we’ll just keep ‘em movin’. Turn on the landin’ lights.’
Even in daylight the two 300-watt beams glared ominously at the frightened and reluctant warriors like evil gleaming eyes.
Fang gazed through the narrow clear strip at the edge of the windscreen. The port propeller looked badly bent, one blade jammed against the cowling. ‘How’s the starboard prop, clear of the cowl?’
‘Yes, but the blades are buckled a bit. Why?’
‘The starboard wing’s high on a mud bank. Probably just enough room to spin ‘er over.’ He patted the instrument panel as if placating an old girlfriend. ‘Sorry about this ol’ girl.’ Without hesitation he hit the starter button. A howling mechanical din split the silence as the starter engaged. The big prop reluctantly spun over, then whirled faster. The huge bent blades lashed at the water like giant talons, throwing cascades of wet Salvinia weed high in the air.
‘They’re all running away, Fang!’
‘Right, leave all the lights on and let’s get outa here. We’ll make directly for the jungle in the opposite direction.’
Jan stowed the camera and strapped her kit on her back. Without further hesitation they carefully lowered themselves into the putrid muddy water and made for the distant jungle.
Fang led the way. ‘The bottom’s muddy and unstable. Follow me.’ They swam through infestations of salvinia weed and water hyacinth, tearing an obvious path through the maze of fragile lily pads. Their passage through the quagmire left a trail of milk chocolate swirls and vortices of coffee-coloured water.
They came across the cage-like buttress roots of a stunted pandanus and Fang checked ahead. ‘Let’s take a break in here and plot a path through that mud flat.’
Jan looked back. The huge tail of the Invader protruded above the surface vegetation. ‘There’s movement near the wreck.’ She quickly unwrapped her video camera, switched on and zoomed in on the activity of the far side of the swamp. ‘It’s Kless’s bodyguard, the big Buka. He’s armed and standing over the open cockpit. The Sangami are searching the surrounding swamp.’
One native had detected the disrupted muddy trail of torn lotus lilies. He brought it to the attention of the others.
Jan focussed back at the Buka. She flinched with horror, realising he stared directly at her with binoculars. ‘He’s picked up our trail, Fang and looking this way with binoculars.’
‘Let’s go! Keep low and stay behind the pandanus as we move.’
They struggled off through the muddy but brackish tidal water. The swamp lacked nutrients though the poor unstable base was perfect for the hardy pandanus. The receding tide left a metre high mud stain on their exposed roots. The splayed roots were topped with starlike clusters of wilted leaves. They resembled a dark horde of monstrous spiders waiting to pounce. The long arcing mangrove roots formed a treacherous tangle of entwined loops, the home for hundreds of tiny mud crabs.
Fang forced his way through the jumbled labyrinth in the mud flat, finally reaching firm ground near the verdant jungle fringe. ‘Hurry it up, Jan. We can stall their trackers if we reach the jungle before nightfall.’
Initially the haven of thin top vegetation cooled them after the sun-exposed swamp. The breeze abated in the thicket of contorted tree trunks. Jan followed under a dense ceiling canopy of leaves. It withheld the stifling heat and the humid, acrid stench of decay.
‘I don’t like the look of this, Fang.’
‘We got no choice but to go through it. Learn to like it.’ Fang knew no distinct season existed in the equatorial zone. The jungle had developed over millions of years of unvarying environmental conditions. This deep litter of leaves, flowers, bark and twigs stayed constantly saturated by torrential rain. It quickly rotted and enriched the jungle soil, forming its own primary nutrients. The stable cycle of growth, death and decay continued endlessly.
Jan stumbled as she followed Fang through thin vegetation over a damp spongy carpet of putrid and rotting compost. Water continually dripped from the overgrown top foliage onto a lacework of embracing trunks. Most were upholstered in multi-coloured lichens, mosses and fungi. Creepers, vines and bright red ‘flame of the forest’ blossoms festooned the upper branches.
‘Jan, I know it’s tough going, but be careful. An injury here and we’re both dead. Kless’s men can’t be far behind.’
As it grew darker, Fang stopped at a dry clear section of jungle floor. He selected a spot to erect a temporary hide. Jan opened the survival kit and smeared herself with insect repellent.
‘Whatta we got to eat?’ said Fang as night fell.
Jan read out the instructions inside the lid. ‘Four day survival kit. Day one and two, eat nothing.’
‘Pig’s arse! What’s in there?’ Fang exclaimed.
‘Chocolate, ration biscuits and tinned cheese.’ Jan contained her anger. She knew Fang’s ruthless and aggressive attitude was an integral part of his determined bush survival skills. ‘There’s water in that stream but I’ll treat it with purifying tablets first.’
As he ate, Fang rummaged through the survival kit, then strung fishing line between two small trees. He draped it randomly with palm fronds and banana leaf. ‘Right, we got a cosy hide. Should be undetectable, even a few metres away. The camouflaged polythene sheet over the top’ll keep it waterproof.’
After their spartan meal, Jan peered from the hide with concern at the eerie coloured lights floating in the darkness. ‘Fang! There’s blotches of light out there.’
Fang glanced out. ‘Fluorescent fungi and lichens.’
‘Some are moving,’ said Jan, mesmerised by the erratic antics of thousands of lights.
‘Fireflies,’ Fang explained simply, trying to sleep in the annoying buzz of insect noises. He sat up suddenly. He could hear natives jabbering. The ring of machetes slashed through the jungle. ‘Quiet! Keep absolutely still.’
The trackers were very close to their sanctuary. Bouncing torch beams flashed like long wands saturated with microscopic floating spore and insects.
Fang listened carefully and whispered. ‘Sounds like the big Buka’s in the lead.’
The Buka hesitated and turned directly toward the hide. His torch beam split to narrow strips of light through the palm fronds. He cursed loudly and slapped at his own face, chasing a flying bug, then coaxed his noisy group onward in their fruitless search.
Fang and Jan slept in turns until an opaque light indicated it was dawn.
‘We’ll wait till mid-morning before movin’,’ Fang advised. ‘Should be better light and more distance from the Buka’s patrol.’
Despite the dark horror of the previous night, Jan waited, entranced by the fairyland around her. Small shafts of sunlight penetrated the dense top cover. It created brilliant beams of light alive with insects and moving particles. The tranquil scene exuded a warm internal glow and she relaxed, her appetite renewed.
‘Right,’ said Fang. ‘We’ve got time for a quick breakfast. What have we got left?’
‘Powdered orange juice, cracker biscuits and tinned jam.’ Jan replied then settled down to eat beneath a tangle of entwined branches and studied the natural balconies overhead. They held galleries of exotic ferns and colourful orchids. Most stayed lodged in crevices, fed only by the accumulated compost of leaf litter from above and moisture from the dense humid air.
Fang made ready to leave. The jungle darkened as rain clouds approached. ‘After we eat, we’ll move on. I wanna make the foothills today. We’ll have to keep watchin’ for Kless’s patrols.’
They soon trudged on. Heavy rain began to fall and though only mid-afternoon, it was as dark as a temperate summer’s night. The torrential downpour was almost deafening as it pounded the top cover and flooded the flora beneath. After it passed Fang smiled. ‘All trace of our trail’s been washed away.’
Jan did not reply, thickets of wait-a-bit thorn slashed any exposed skin mercilessly and delayed her progress. Fang helped untangle the strong web of gossamer vine and needle-like thorns from her hair and clothes. She staggered on over rising drier ground.
Eventually they reached the foothills. A clearing opened up ahead, obviously a former garden. ‘Wait here. I’ll follow each trail leadin’ in,’ Fang ordered and left the survival kit with her.
Jan tolerated Fang’s bullying tactics. She trusted his strategy and waited for nearly two hours. Fang never returned. Indecision clouded her thinking, she could not risk another night in the open by herself. She gave up and eventually followed a trail that led to a native village. It could be a trap. Kless’s men had overtaken them the previous night; they could be waiting here. No activity or sign of life remained. She crept furtively into the village only to find it deserted, perhaps evacuated during the eruptions.
Before nightfall she snacked on wild banana, pineapple and coconut. In her nervous state, the meal was wasted and did not satisfy her. She dared light a small fire in an empty grass hut, and planned ways to evade Kless’s men. Every noise outside disturbed her strategy. Fang would never have deliberately left her alone and she wondered if he had been captured. Concerns for his safety worried her.
With lack of activity, Jan fought despair. She sat dejected with her knees curled up against her chest. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she pictured the tall slim man she loved. This man never gave up and he waited less than twenty kilometres away. The thought gave her new resolve. She forlornly scanned the simple assortment of possessions around the wall, tapa cloth, string bilum bags, strings of beads and clay pots of coloured ochres.
Suddenly she had an idea.
46
Many hours had passed since Fang and Jan had taken off from Madang in the Invader. Nothing had been heard since and Dave waited frantically for news. He called Madang tower and they confirmed radio contact had been lost. Search and rescue action began automatically after flight duration expired. Nothing else mattered to Dave. The gold search and Joe’s death passed from his mind as he considered options.
After his own recent loss, Ted felt sympathetic. ‘They reckon last contact was over the foothills. What about I take a native search party from the head of the old mining trail. Might be lucky?’
‘That’d be appreciated, but I
want to go along. Wait until I hear back from Madang search and rescue.’
At nightfall, Dave received a positive response from Madang tower. ‘Good news, Mr Stark. Our local search and rescue coordinator found the Invader ditched in the north-east swamps. The cockpit’s open and the crew have left the wreck. Ground parties are searching for them right now.’
Dave unwound, relieved that Jan had at least survived the crash. Ominously, Fang had left the Invader. A pilot’s first rule of survival demanded they stay with the wreck. ‘Wonderful. Who’s the local search and rescue coordinator? They can use my chopper in the morning.’
The controller replied without hesitation. A Mr Bruno Kless at Rimbula Plantation. He apparently sighted the wreck while overflying his property and immediately despatched a rescue party from his estate. I hope that puts your mind at rest, Mr Stark?’
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Dave went deadly silent. He recalled Kless’s look of contempt and lust as he glared at Jan. Now Dave really feared for her safety. No doubt if Kless captured her he would satisfy his perversions. Her body would never be found.
The controller interrupted Dave’s stunned silence. ‘Mr Stark, is everything okay?’
‘Yeah, do me a favour. My Hughes 500 chopper is nearly repaired at the maintenance facility. It’s grounded at the moment. Can you contact them and arrange to have it finished urgently and ready to be flown to Kaviak? I don’t care what it costs—tell them I need it early tomorrow.’
The controller paused. ‘Yes, I know it … I’ll do that right away and call you back if there’s a problem.’
Fang’s mud-covered Thunderbox disturbed Dave’s planning as it lurched to a halt on the beach trail. Jake and Seiji slammed doors and strolled lazily into camp.
Jake knew nothing of the Invader crash. ‘How’d everything go with Joe, Dave? Did they come up with anything?’
‘No, they’re gonna call back later. Somethin’ else has happened. Fang and Jan have pranged the Invader in a swamp on Rimbula Plantation.’