Claws of the Crocodile

by Bear Grylls

  Beck smiled and handed her a second grub. She took it reluctantly. She knew they needed all the energy they could find.

  There was a down side to finding the witchetty grubs, Beck thought as they continued their way. They were big. If Pindari had eaten a few, he would be feeling comfortably full. He might not pick any more berries as he went. The signs might disappear now.

  Sure enough, the trail seemed to vanish again. Beck went from bush to bush and tree to tree, and widened his search to fifty metres or more from the direction in which they were headed. No luck. He squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth, and kept going north-east.

  Brihony was forcing herself to be cheerful. ‘Go far enough north-east,’ she said, ‘and we’ll be back in Darwin. Or else we’ll miss it and fall into the sea.’

  ‘We just have to keep looking,’ Beck said quietly. Then he remembered that he had promised they would call a halt if they hadn’t found Pindari by the evening. That is, if the man they were following really was Pindari. Maybe he had been wrong about the first footprint. Maybe it hadn’t been a test. Maybe Beck wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. Maybe it was some Aboriginal guy going walkabout who didn’t want a couple of whitefella kids sticking their noses into his business – or thought it would be hilarious to lead them on a wild-goose chase.

  At noon they sheltered in the shade of some trees. It took a couple of hours for temperatures to drop a little. Beck seethed with impatience, which he knew was a very bad idea in the Outback. Nothing here could be forced or hurried if you wanted to stay alive. He made himself wait, and two hours after the sun had passed overhead, off they went again.

  They followed Pindari’s trail – or what Beck hoped was Pindari’s trail – as the afternoon moved on and began to turn into evening. Beck kept an eye out for more dark clouds gathering on the horizon, but none showed. They continued to eat as they went. The level of the water in the bottle fell, so they dug down in another river bed and drank. Their pee was now too dark to help keep them hydrated. That also worried Beck. He knew they were facing a ticking time-bomb of dehydration.

  He knew he should call a halt soon. Stop. Drink the water bit by bit to replenish their levels. Stay overnight, and then – though it broke his heart – admit defeat and head back to join the others. They wouldn’t be following a trail so there would be nothing to slow them down. They could just head back south-west. The sun was low on the horizon now. By this time the next day they could be back at the river with Barega and Ganan.

  ‘Beck!’ Brihony grasped his arm and pointed. ‘Look! Is that smoke?’

  Beck stopped and stared into the distance. She was right. A thin column of smoke drifted up from some high ground dead ahead. It looked like a straight pencil line drawn over the blue sky. And it was like an arrow pointing for them, saying, Your destination is here.

  Chapter 22

  All thoughts of giving up disappeared, but before they went on, Beck took care to fill up the bottle from the hole.

  ‘My dad used to say that when you most want to quit, it means you are probably closest to your goal,’ he said.

  He smiled, but didn’t look up until the bubbles had stopped and the bottle was full. ‘And I knew we were almost there.’

  ‘We don’t know it’s Pindari. Just because we’ve been searching all day and we really want it to be him doesn’t mean we’ve found him, Beck. It could be some hiker. It could be some fool who dropped an empty bottle which acted as a magnifying glass for the sun’s rays, and now a wildfire is about to sweep through the Outback. Assume nothing.’ Brihony was playing with Beck’s mind.

  Beck smiled, then stood up to take a direction check. It was fast approaching twilight. Another hour and it would be dark; then the smoke column would be invisible. They had to get to it before it disappeared.

  ‘North-east,’ he said with purpose. ‘OK, let’s finish this. Coming?’

  Even though Beck was trying hard not to feel too excited, just in case they were disappointed, he couldn’t deny the extra spring in his step, as if he were embarking on the final lap of a race – the bit where new energy flows into you even though you’re sure you’ve given everything.

  They crossed another dry stream, and then it was a twenty-minute slog up a slight rise. It started out as a gentle gradient, but by the time they finished they were on hands and knees. They crested the ridge and saw . . . nothing. Just more Outback stretching away into the dusk. But now Beck could smell wood smoke, and there was a glimmer of orange light ahead. They continued until they came to the edge of a hollow.

  Their eyes went to the fire first, because it was the brightest thing – orange and crackling with light and energy. A spit had been set up across it: two small A-frames on either side, with a stick joining the tops across the flames. Something that Beck was pretty sure was a wallaby leg was slowly roasting on it.

  The old man beside the fire sat so still they didn’t notice him at first. He squatted with his knees up around his ears. He was powerfully built, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. He wore ragged cut-off jeans and a grimy top. His hair and beard were a mass of white curls against his dark skin. A spear was thrust into the ground next to him.

  His stillness was infectious. Beck felt as if his own feet were taking root in sympathy. He made himself put one foot in front of the other, and walked into the circle of firelight.

  The man spoke. He had an Australian accent that overlaid something deeper and older. Beck had heard Aboriginal people speaking their own language. It was singsong and very rapid so that the sounds ran together. This man seemed to be forcing himself to slow down so that Beck would be able to understand.

  ‘I thought it was you, but you’ve grown so. From where I was standing I couldn’t be sure.’

  Beck’s heart pounded with joy. It was Pindari. The man they had been looking for; the man who had taught him everything that had got them this far. He wanted to shout with joy and pump the air and go ‘Yes!’ but that was not Pindari’s way.

  And so he made himself answer in the same calm, level tone: ‘So you set me a little test, Uncle?’

  Pindari was not his uncle, of course, or any kind of relation. Among Pindari’s people, younger people used ‘Uncle’ and ‘Aunt’ to address older people whom they respected. It was also an honour for the younger people to be allowed to use these names. When Beck had met Pindari, he addressed the old man only as ‘Elder’. The first time Pindari had invited him to call him ‘Uncle’, Beck had felt like he had received some special honour.

  ‘Only one of my mob – or someone I had taught – would have managed it,’ Pindari said. ‘After the rain, I suppose you followed my eating trail?’

  ‘Well, obviously, Uncle. It was the first thing that occurred to me.’

  For the first time Pindari looked up at them, and Beck saw the glimmer of humour in his dark eyes.

  ‘Obviously,’ the old man agreed, and Beck realized that Pindari knew he had been on the verge of giving up.

  ‘Hang on!’ Brihony interrupted. ‘Oh – by the way, I’m Brihony. But what do you mean, you couldn’t be sure from where you were standing? When we saw you, you were so far away you couldn’t have seen anything!’

  Pindari fixed her with a dark gaze. ‘That was when you saw me.’

  Ha! So he had seen them long before. Beck pondered, I wonder how close the old man got.

  ‘You must be Mia Stewart’s girl.’ Pindari waved a hand. ‘Sit down, both of you. Got a knife, Beck? Of course you have. Cut yourself some meat.’

  The meat was dark red and tender. The machete easily sliced through it. It sizzled, and juices dripped off the blade. Beck felt his stomach rumbling as he passed Brihony a slice, then cut one for himself. Without knife or fork or plate there was no polite way to eat it, so they had to cup their free hands under their chins to catch the drops.

  ‘You must tell me how you come to be wandering about in the Outback, but first’ – Pindari raised his voice slightly – ‘if those two joker
s behind me don’t show themselves, I’ll spit them like I spitted this wallaby.’

  Huh? Beck and Brihony both jerked their heads up and stared into the darkness behind Pindari. They hadn’t heard anything.

  After a pause, a familiar voice spoke:

  ‘No need for that, Uncle.’

  Part of the darkness moved, and two figures emerged into the firelight. Brihony and Beck’s mouths dropped open in surprise.

  ‘It’s you! How did you get here?’ Brihony asked.

  ‘Brihony, Beck – hi.’ Barega stood there with his hands on his hips and a big grin on his face. ‘We got the boat fixed and came up the river. It makes a big loop – we’re only about quarter of a mile from it here. We saw the fire; came to investigate.’

  Ganan came to stand beside him. A rucksack dangled from his hand. ‘Greetings, Uncle Pindari.’ He nodded to the older man. ‘May we share your fire?’

  Pindari scowled up at them. ‘You know me. I don’t know you.’

  Barega’s smile faded a little under the old man’s hostility. ‘It has only been a year or two, Uncle. You saw us more recently than you saw Beck.’

  ‘I have reason to remember Beck.’ Pindari’s voice was cold. ‘He is a friend to the Jungun. A follower of the old ways. Not a man who runs off to the whitefella’s world at the first opportunity. Why should I remember one like that?’

  Beck and Brihony exchanged anxious glances. The last thing they wanted was for the three to fall out. They were all meant to be in this together.

  ‘They are our friends, um, Uncle,’ Brihony said. Pindari’s eyebrow went up when she used that word, but he didn’t object.

  ‘They have important news for the Jungun,’ Beck added. ‘That’s why we’re all here.’

  Pindari thought for a moment more. ‘I remember you,’ he said to the two men. He made it sound like he had made a decision to remember, rather than just dragging their names out of his memory. ‘Ganan . . . Barega – sit down. Beck, tell me why we’re all here.’

  ‘It’s important news, Uncle . . .’ Ganan began. Pindari’s gaze stayed fixed on Beck, and it was clear he wasn’t listening to anyone else. Ganan trailed away into silence and gave Beck the go-ahead with his eyes.

  ‘We’ve come to finish what my parents started,’ Beck said. ‘Lumos wants to buy the Jungun land. We think they will do to it what they did to the Yawuru. We want to stop them.’

  ‘Lumos,’ Pindari mused. ‘What they did to the Yawuru was an evil thing. No, they must not be allowed to take any more land. We are now right on the edge of the Yawuru land that was polluted. That’s why I stopped here – I didn’t want you going into it. I don’t like going into it. It is a bad place.’ He shuddered. ‘Poisons in the food and water. The land hurts.’

  ‘Beck’s parents gave you something, Uncle, before they died,’ said Ganan.

  Pindari held his thumb and forefinger apart. ‘They gave me a small plastic whitefella thing. About that big. They said it was very important, though it was useless to me.’

  Ganan took a deep breath, poised to explain the concept of USB sticks, but Pindari carried on: ‘I mean, I don’t have electronic computers out here, so what was I going to do with it?’

  Beck grinned as Ganan let the breath out again. The other man looked annoyed at being led up the garden path.

  ‘We’re hoping you kept it, Uncle,’ said Barega.

  ‘Of course I kept it. It’s in a cave, guarded by the ancestors.’ Pindari made a chopping motion with his hand into the darkness. ‘That way, on the edge of Jungun land.’

  ‘Hold on, Uncle.’ Ganan delved into his bag and pulled out a map, which he unfolded on the ground between him and Pindari. ‘Can you show us? We’re here . . .’

  He pressed a finger to the paper, and Beck peered down at it. The river curved in a loop that was so long it was almost a circle. There was a narrow neck of land a few miles across where the river didn’t quite join up. They were very close to it.

  He was puzzled to see some rectangles that looked very out of place in the middle of the Outback. But then he remembered: Lumos’s pollution had come from a uranium mine. Those squares must be the deserted buildings.

  ‘Can you show us on this where the cave is?’ Ganan asked.

  Pindari shot him a look of pure contempt. ‘I have no use for maps.’

  ‘No, but we do . . .’ Barega said hopefully.

  ‘The land is the land. It belongs to itself. It will not be confined to a piece of paper. I will tell you where the cave is. It is at the bottom of a high cliff, very hard to reach. It is by the water’s edge, but high enough up that it never floods.’

  Ganan looked thoughtfully into the darkness, in the direction that Pindari had indicated, then down at the map again. ‘That must be the very edge of the land that Lumos wants,’ he said.

  ‘Then it is right that the stick is kept there. The ancestors will watch over it in the sacred cave.’

  ‘Actually,’ Ganan said, ‘I was just thinking that it’s kind of ironic.’ He fumbled again in his bag as he spoke. His tone was sneering.

  Pindari gave him a hard stare, then deliberately turned his attention to Beck. It was clear that he was cutting the other man out of the conversation. ‘The ancestors will guide you. Follow the spears—’

  The harsh crack of a gunshot suddenly echoed through the night. Pindari’s face, so full of life and expression, grew slack and cold. The old man toppled to the ground while the front of his shirt turned slowly red.

  Chapter 23

  Beck scrambled to his feet and ran across to Pindari. But he lay completely still, his eyes open and staring. Pindari was gone. Beck’s heart turned over with anger and horror, but he forced himself to think straight. He stared out into the darkness all around.

  His eyes darted around the campsite, trying to work out where the shot had come from. They were completely at the mercy of whoever had fired out of the darkness. But Beck couldn’t see anyone. Then he turned slowly as it dawned on him that the killer was right here in the camp with them.

  Ganan and Barega were on their feet, and Ganan held a gun – a sleek black automatic pistol that fitted snugly into his hand. Brihony and Beck both stared at him, their minds spinning, working overtime to try and make sense of what had happened. Brihony was sobbing, wide-eyed with shock.

  Barega also looked shocked, but Beck realized it was nothing like the shock that he and Brihony felt. But the gun wasn’t pointed at Barega. It was pointed at them.

  ‘You didn’t need to—’ Barega began.

  ‘Shut up.’ The gun moved from Brihony to Beck, and back again.

  ‘You?’ Brihony gasped. ‘You’re working for Lumos?’

  ‘Too right,’ said Ganan.

  ‘How much are they paying you?’ Beck asked quietly. His heart pounded. He could already see where this was going. There was no alternative. Ganan had murdered an old man in front of him and Brihony. They were witnesses, and that meant they only had seconds to live unless he could think of something.

  ‘Enough.’

  ‘There wasn’t meant to be any killing!’ Barega’s voice was shrill. ‘We could have taken the stick and handed it over, and these guys would never have known anything!’

  ‘Yeah, well . . .’ Ganan half turned towards Barega and the gun moved with him. For a just a moment it wasn’t pointing at anyone. Beck tensed himself to leap at it. ‘It didn’t work out like that!’

  ‘Yeah, you could have just stabbed us in the back without ever telling,’ Brihony shouted through her tears. The gun snapped back to point at her, and Beck held himself back. ‘So who were those goons who attacked us in Broome?’

  ‘Just a little nudge in the right direction.’ Ganan tightened his grip on the gun.

  ‘A nudge?’ Brihony was becoming furious. Her fists clenched and she seemed to be preparing to launch herself at the man with the gun. ‘You could have killed my mother, or left her brain-damaged – for a nudge?’

  ‘We needed Beck, and it lo
oked like he wasn’t going to take the bait, despite all our efforts. The PlaceSpace mystery, the white dragon – even telling him about his parents. It was all supposed to draw him in. But despite all that, you were going to say no, weren’t you, Beck? And we couldn’t have that.’

  Brihony’s fury was infectious. Beck felt some of it start to creep into him. These men didn’t care who they used, who got hurt, just as long as they got what they wanted: money. The memory of his parents was like a priceless jewel in his head. These guys had just treated it like trash – another pawn in their little game.

  But Beck was calm enough to notice something. The gun barrel moved as Ganan spoke, from Beck to Brihony and back again. Beck wondered if he was deciding which one to shoot first, or just trying to summon the courage to pull the trigger. Ganan wasn’t a born killer. He lacked practice.

  And Beck had seen that he couldn’t even keep them covered if he was distracted. So, please, he thought, let him be distracted again. Let him move the gun away, just a little . . .

  Barega gave him the opportunity. ‘Ganan, mate,’ he pleaded, ‘don’t do this . . .’

  Ganan drew a breath to answer, and once again turned away. Again the gun wasn’t pointing at anyone.

  Beck leaped forward. In one smooth motion he pulled the machete from its sheath and brought the back of it down hard on Ganan’s wrist. He used the blunt edge of the blade – he only wanted to disarm Ganan, not cripple him. But it was still like hitting him with an iron bar. The man howled and dropped the gun as his wrist went numb. Beck hoped he had broken it.

  He hadn’t thought much further ahead than that. What would he do now? Maybe he should pick up the gun and throw it away into the darkness. But it had fallen at Barega’s feet.

  It was Brihony who solved that problem. Ganan was still dancing in a little circle of agony, clutching his wrist, his face screwed up in pain. Brihony scooped something up off the ground, ran forward and dropped it down the back of his neck.

  ‘Let’s see how you do with a funnel web!’