Lehman caught a glimpse of a sparkling fish tail. And fair hair. It swirled several times. And then climbed onto a rock. A woman with long golden hair. And a fish tail covered in nails.
The men laughed. Their chuckles sounded like bubbles bursting out of the water. Lehman stared at the nails which shivered as they moved. He spoke aloud. Half to himself. Half to them. ‘Not nails,’ he said, ‘but scales.’
He turned back to the mermaid. In her hair, she wore a golden clip, set with pearls. The same pin that he had seen every day in his mother’s photograph.
In that moment Lehman knew that while his father had been a man, his mother was a mermaid.
She beckoned to him, calling him out into the water. Then she dived down under the rippling surface. The mermen nodded at him, pointing out to sea. Like Lehman, they had legs rather than a tail.
Lehman walked. And walked. And walked. The waves closed over his head. He opened his mouth and took a deep breath of water. It passed through his new gills with a fizz of bubbles. His head was filled with lightness. And happiness. He began to swim, deep down, following his mother.
Then, for a second, he remembered something. He burst upwards faster and faster and plunged out of the water like a dolphin. He snatched one last look at the island. And saw, high on a hill, a small mound. A shovel stood pointing to the bright sky above. He knew now why his father had brought him here. A fish-boy could only be happy in one place – the ocean.
Lehman waved goodbye and then plunged down far below the surface. And followed his family out to sea.
Guts
‘It likes to eat people,’ said Mr Borg. ‘It will eat dogs, cats, snakes and even cows. But its favourite food is human beings.’
‘It eats people?’ I yelped.
‘People,’ said Mr Borg. ‘Loves ’em. It’s a real guts.’
My mouth was hanging open. But my sister Danni’s teeth were firmly clenched.
‘What sort of people?’ I asked.
‘It’s favourite is kids,’ said Mr Borg. ‘Especially cheeky brats like you two.’
‘Get real,’ said Danni.
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Mr Borg in a mean voice. ‘Well, go and take a look for yourself. Go and pay a visit to the Lost Mine. In fact do us all a favour and get lost yourselves.’
Mr Borg gave a hearty laugh. He thought this was very funny.
‘Ghosts don’t eat,’ said Danni. ‘They can’t even pick things up.’
‘The Spirit of the Forest is not your normal ghost,’ said Mr Borg. ‘It doesn’t eat with its hands. Or its mouth. But it devours things. Oh, yes. A horrible sound. You should hear it crunch.’
‘You’re just trying to scare us,’ I said. ‘So that Dad will leave and sell our land to you. Well, you’re not getting it. Ever.’
Mr Borg’s dog, Hacker, started to bark and growl and snap at us through the back window of his Jaguar.
Mr Borg scowled. ‘We’ll see about that,’ he said. He flattened the accelerator and drove off in a cloud of dust.
Danni and I walked slowly back to our little farm by the river.
Things were not going too good. Dad made a living by putting up fences for the big land owners. But times were tough in the bush and he wasn’t getting much work. We were nearly broke. If things didn’t improve the bank was going to sell us up.
‘I couldn’t stand it if we had to move into a town.’ I said to Danni.
She looked around at the little farm that had been our home since the day we were born. ‘Mr Borg is not getting this land. This is ours.’
We stared defiantly around our little farm. We had the best spot on the whole river. All around us were the high mountains of the national park. The peaks were covered in tropical rainforest. It was the most beautiful place in the world. I couldn’t even bear to think about leaving it.
Mr Borg wanted to build a casino resort. He was a developer of the worst sort.
2
As soon as we stepped into the kitchen I could tell that something was wrong. Dad was walking around the room kicking at things and muttering angrily under his breath.
‘What’s up?’ I said.
He didn’t answer for a second or two. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Finally he spat it out. ‘The Land Rover’s gone.’
‘Where?’ shouted Danni.
‘Someone nicked it. Last night. I left it down in the bottom paddock. Now all that’s left are a few tracks in the mud.’
Danni and I gasped. Without the Land Rover, Dad wouldn’t be able to get any work.
‘We’re finished if we don’t get it back,’ he said bitterly. ‘It wasn’t even insured.’
‘Who would want the Land Rover?’ I said.
‘Come on,’ said Danni. ‘Use your brains.’
‘Mr Borg,’ I gasped. ‘To force us to sell up.’
‘Dad,’ I yelled. ‘Let’s go. Let’s get him. Let’s flatten him. Let’s beat the sh-’
Dad shook his head. ‘Getting into a fight won’t achieve anything. And we don’t know that it was Borg who nicked it. And we couldn’t prove it anyway. He’s not likely to have left it in his backyard.’
‘Where then?’ said Danni.
‘In the river,’ said Dad. ‘Or at the bottom of a cliff. Maybe down a mine shaft.’
When Dad said that my mind started to tick over.
‘I’ll have to go to the police,’ said Dad. ‘Not that it will do any good. We’ll never see that car again, that’s for sure.’
Dad went off to report the theft to the police. He was going to go to the bank as well. To see if they would extend his loan.
Danni and I walked down to the back paddock and examined the tyre tracks. They didn’t tell us much. We followed them along the river and out of the bottom gate. They disappeared down the road.
‘If Borg took the car,’ said Danni. ‘Where would he have dumped it?’
I went over Dad’s words in my mind. ‘In the river. Or at the bottom of a cliff. Maybe down –’
‘A mine shaft,’ I shouted.
‘The Lost Mine,’ said Danni. ‘That’s why he was telling us all the bulldust about the Spirit of the Forest. A ghost that eats people.’
‘That was a story to stop us going there,’ I said. ‘To scare us off.’
We were so excited. We couldn’t wait for Dad to get back so that we could all go up to the Lost Mine and look for the Land Rover.
So we waited. And we waited. And we waited.
Finally, just as the sun was setting, we saw Dad walking home.
Walking.
Of course. He had to walk. Our four-wheel drive was gone. No wonder he was late.
Dad sort of swaggered into the gate, his head held high. But he couldn’t fool us. We could tell he was trying to act cheerful so that we wouldn’t get upset. He didn’t want to talk about it but we finally dragged the truth out of him.
‘The bank won’t extend our loan,’ he said. ‘We can’t buy a new Land Rover. We can’t even hang on to the property. The bank is going to sell us up. But don’t worry, kids. Life in the city isn’t that bad.’
‘Borg will buy our property,’ I said.
Dad nodded.
‘We know where the Land Rover is,’ said Danni.
Dad listened to her story carefully. He let her finish but he kept shaking his head all the way through.
‘No,’ he said. ‘We’re not going up to the Lost Mine. It’s too dangerous. No one is allowed up there because of the hidden mine shafts. Lots of people have gone there and never been seen again.’
‘The Spirit of…’ said Danni.
‘There is something odd about that forest,’ said Dad. ‘But there’s no spirit. Borg told you that story so that we would go there. If the car is there it means he wants us to find it.’
‘Why?’ I said.
‘So that he can gloat. It will be smashed or down a mine shaft. We will know that he did it but we won’t be able to prove a thing.’
‘I thought you loved that car,’ said Dann
i.
‘Of course I love it,’ said Dad. ‘That’s why I can’t bear to find it all smashed and wrecked.’ He forced a grin. ‘Look, don’t be so gloomy, you two. I’ll go into town tomorrow. And arrange for the bank to get on with the sale. You never know. We might even get a really good price.’
Danni and I went out onto the porch and sat listening to the crickets chirping in the warm summer air.
‘Do you know where I’m going tomorrow?’ I said.
Danni gave a grin. ‘The same place as me,’ she said.
3
Danni and I stared along the narrow track that disappeared into the forest.
‘Look,’ said Danni. ‘Someone’s been here. Maybe a fire truck.’ She pointed at a set of wheel tracks in the mud.
‘Maybe our Land Rover,’ I said. I could hardly stop my voice from shaking with excitement.
I hitched up my pack and took the first step into forbidden territory.
‘Do you believe that story about the Spirit of the Forest?’ I asked Danni.
She shrugged. ‘They reckon that this forest is magical. Anyone who hurts the trees or digs holes suffers a terrible fate. All the workers from the Lost Mine just disappeared. Never seen again. No one ever comes up here.’
I didn’t say anything. I just hoped the story wasn’t true.
We trudged on and on and on. The track wound through deep gullies and over creek beds. Always heading up. Gradually the forest grew denser. The air was hot and clammy.
‘We should have left a note,’ I said. ‘What if we get lost?’
‘If we stick to the track we can’t get lost,’ said Danni.
I gave a shiver. ‘We have to turn back by lunch-time,’ I said. ‘Otherwise we won’t get back by dark.’ The thought of spending the night on the mountain was making me nervous.
We kept on. With aching legs and blistered feet we forced our way up the mountain. Sometimes we would break out of the forest and find ourselves staring down into the valley. The tiny houses told us quite clearly how far away we were from people. And help.
After another three hours of struggling uphill, the track levelled out and headed into a dark damp gully lined with ferns and moss.
I slumped down onto a log. ‘Twelve o’clock,’ I said. ‘Time to turn back. We need to get home before Dad.’
‘Give it one hour,’ said Danni. ‘One more hour.’
So we did.
And exactly fifty-nine minutes later we saw what we had come for.
‘Look,’ I screamed.
4
The Land Rover stood in the middle of a quickly flowing stream. The bonnet was up but there was no one around.
On the other side of the water we could see an abandoned mine site. The shaft itself was just a black hole in the side of a cliff. Nearby were a number of sagging sheds with dusty broken windows. The whole area was littered with rusting machinery that had grass and shrubs growing out of it. A huge pile of grey rocks spewed down the cliff face. All sorts of rubbish cluttered the site. Old oil drums, a kettle, a meat safe, a broken oil lamp, several rotting mattresses – the last remaining signs of long-dead miners.
We waded into the stream and I stared at the engine of the Land Rover. ‘Water on the distributor,’ I said.
‘Easily fixed,’ said Danni.
We were both so excited. Dad loved this car. We all did. It wouldn’t take a second to dry the distributor and start the engine. Danni looked inside.
‘Uh-oh,’ she said.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘No key. The ignition key is gone.’
Drat. I could dry off the wet ignition leads. And I could drive the Land Rover. No worries. But how to start it up without a key? That was another matter altogether. We had to get going quickly. Before Borg came and found us. Before…
‘What’s that?’ said Danni suddenly.
We both stood still with water swirling around our knees and listened.
‘A dog,’ I said. ‘Somewhere far off.’
‘Down the mine,’ said Danni. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Let’s go?’ I said. ‘Don’t be crazy. Anyone could be down there. Anything could be down there.’
‘That’s Hacker,’ said Danni. ‘Borg’s dog. I’d know that growl anywhere. Find the dog and we find Borg. Find Borg and we find the key to the Land Rover.’
My sister had plenty of guts. I was scared but I couldn’t let her go alone. We waded across the stream and walked carefully between the tumble-down sheds.
Everything was as silent as a grave. The buildings were overgrown with blackberries and weeds. Totally deserted. A door creaked eerily on its rusty hinges. Almost as if a hidden hand had given it a push.
‘Ghosts,’ I said.
‘Rubbish,’ said Danni.
I grabbed her arm. ‘I’m not going into the mine until we’ve thought this through,’ I said.
We sat down on a log in silence. After a bit I noticed something moving. A revolting little cane toad. It was creeping through the grass towards a dirty glass jar. Inside the jar was a small piece of steak.
Steak? Where had that come from?
The toad suddenly hopped into the jar. But before it could grab the meat something really weird happened. The toad gave a terrible shudder and froze. Just stopped dead. Then it began to fade. I could see right through its body. It was only a faint outline, almost as if it was made of mist. Or smoke. Then it vanished.
The jar wobbled and made a noise. It sounded like… well, yes, like a tiny burp. Then it vanished too. Into thin air.
‘Aaagh,’ I screamed.
‘What?’
‘A toad just vanished. And a jar.’
Danni gave me a little pat on the head. ‘If you could make cane toads vanish,’ she said. ‘You would be the most popular person in Australia. Come on. Let’s go.’
5
We shouldered our packs and walked into the mouth of the black mine. A terrible smell filled the air. A foul, retch-making stench.
‘Uurgh,’ said Danni. ‘A dead possum.’
I stared at the rotting corpse and held a tissue over my mouth. The possum’s nose had fallen off and its fur was rotting.
Sitting right on top of it was another cane toad. Having a feast. Feeding on the carcass.
‘Yuck,’ I said with a shudder.
Danni took out her torch and stepped carefully into the darkness of the mine. ‘Let’s get going,’ she said.
The tunnel grew blacker. Water dripped onto the wet earth beneath our feet. We followed twisted railway tracks deeper and deeper into the mountainside. Suddenly Danni stopped. She was shining her torch on something. A wooden packing case. Inside was a small dead fish.
Danni reached down. ‘Well, look at that,’ she said.
‘Don’t touch it,’ I yelled.
Something dark flitted past our heads and grabbed the fish. At first I couldn’t work out what it was. The fish seemed to be covered by a ball of quivering fur.
‘A feral cat,’ I gasped.
The cat did not get a chance to eat. There was no mistaking it. Unbelievable as it may seem, in the torchlight we saw what we saw. For a second the feral cat waved its tail. Then it grew still. And pale. Its skin turned clear and for a moment it resembled a small ice sculpture. Then whoosh it vanished into steam. The box trembled and began to fade. It gave a little ‘hic’ and vanished.
Danni’s eyes grew round.
‘The fish was bait,’ I whispered. ‘And the box was a –’
‘Ghost box,’ said Danni.
‘The Spirit of the Forest,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t like mines. Or miners. Or anything that comes here.’ We both backed away, pushing ourselves against the wall. It was cold that far underground. But my hands were sweating. I tried to swallow but fear seemed to paralyse my muscles.
I thought about what we had seen. ‘The ghost can make itself into any shape,’ I said. I reminded Danni about the first cane toad and she shook her head in horror.
‘It could turn itse
lf into a jar,’ I said in a hoarse voice.
‘Or a box,’ Danni whispered.
‘Any hollow object. It can make itself into that shape,’ I said slowly. ‘And any living thing that wanders into it is eaten.’
‘Turned to vapour,’ said Danni.
‘No, turned into a spectre,’ I said. ‘Dead, gone, vanished from this world. Into the next.’
We stared at each other in the light of the torch. Then without a word we both started to run. Scrambling, screaming back towards the entrance. We fled into the blackness, not knowing what cold hand might reach down and grab us. The beam from our torch bounced crazily from the mine’s wall.
6
Finally we stopped. Sucking in the cold air with noisy gulps. Trying to see into the gloom.
Danni was peering at something. ‘What’s that?’ she gasped. ‘It wasn’t there before.’
We stared at a huge steel bank vault. The door hung open. Inside it was empty. Except for something small, made of metal. It glinted in the torchlight.
‘A key,’ gasped Danni.
‘The Land Rover key,’ I said. ‘Fabulous.’ I stumbled forward but this time Danni grabbed me.
‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘It’s bait. And look. It’s not even a real key. You can see through it. It’s a ghost key.’
Suddenly a terrible snarling howl filled the air. We turned. And there he was. Not a spectre but our deadly enemy. Borg. And his dog, Hacker. The huge animal bared its long teeth and dripped saliva.
Borg’s face was filled with hatred. ‘Where’s your father?’ he shouted angrily.
‘Outside,’ I lied. ‘He’ll be here any minute.’
‘Good,’ said Borg. ‘He’s the one I want. But you two will do for starters.’
Now I realised what this was all about. Borg knew about the Spirit of the Forest. He wanted Dad to disappear so that he could get our farm. He had lured us up here on purpose.
Borg spoke in a low voice to his dog. ‘Back ’em up, boy, back ’em up.’
Hacker lowered his head and growled horribly. Danni and I started to back away towards the vault. The dog was herding us like sheep. Straight into the gaping vault.
Paul Jennings' Trickiest Stories Page 22