The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya

by Robert G. Barrett

  Norton nodded solemnly. ‘Yeah, fair enough.’

  ‘There’s forces in this world, Les,’ chimed in Yarrawulla, ‘that you and any other white man know nothing about. Even we’re not too sure of them.’

  ‘I can appreciate that. I’ve known you blokes, and about you, all my life.’

  Tjalkalieri got up, took a piece of rockmelon from the table and chewed on it for a moment when he sat back down; as if he needed to get a sudden dryness out of his throat before he could continue.

  ‘We’re going to raise an evil spirit tonight, Les, and hope he’ll do something for us. He’s called Mungoongali. He’s one of the evilest there is. The thing is, Mungoongali feeds on the weakest. If we don’t insure that Percy Kilby’s Kurinata is weaker than ours, Mungoongali will turn on us.’

  Norton stared at the three of them and blinked. It all sounded like some sort of fairy tale. But their usual lighthearted banter had completely disappeared and the nervous looks on their faces told him they were deadly, even fearfully serious.

  ‘If Mungoongali doesn’t wish to do what we want him to do after we raise him from the Otherworld. He’ll kill us.’

  ‘What Tjalkalieri’s trying to say,’ said Mumbi, ‘is we’re laying our lives on the line tonight.’

  ‘Jesus!’

  ‘We’ll need more than him to save us if this doesn’t work out Les,’ said Yarrawulla.

  Norton stood there staring at them. Motionless. Absolutely lost for words.

  ‘But don’t worry, Les,’ smiled Tjalkalieri. ‘We’re fairly confident our Kurinata’s good.’

  ‘Look,’ said Norton, and he pointed at all three of them. ‘I don’t know much about all this spirit thing. But I know you blokes, and I know you’ve always been fair dinkum. If this is getting a bit beyond what you can handle, and there’s any sort of danger to you, I want you to knock it on the head. That’s fine by me. And I’ll still give you your money. It’s not worth it to lose three old mates.’

  ‘No. Everything’s going to be okay,’ smiled Tjalkalieri. ‘We’ve come this far. We can handle it.’

  ‘Okay, suit yourselves,’ shrugged Norton. ‘But if you want to pull out — no sweat. It was a good try. And all this fuck-up’s my fault anyway.’

  ‘She’ll be sweet, Les,’ winked Mumbi.

  ‘Anyway. I think we’ve got time for another cup of tea,’ said Tjalkalieri. ‘And then we’ll get into it again. I’ll tell you what. This rockmelon’s all right.’

  ‘Yeah I was just watching you,’ said Yarrawulla. ‘I might grab a bit myself.’

  The boys finished their tea and most of the fruit. Then after using the bathroom they started chanting again. Yarrawulla took first turn at holding the bone.

  There wasn’t a great deal Les could do now. The fresh linen had been left outside the door so he made the beds and cleaned up what little mess there was from lunch, doing his best to keep quiet and out of the way while the others continued their chanting. Tjalkalieri told him that when they’d finished their trance and went up to the RSL to do whatever it was they were going to do, they would still have to wear their body paint and their headbands with the blood-smeared feathers stuck in them. Their tracksuits would cover their bodies, but they would need some beanies or caps. So Les went out, found a K-Mart and bought three Khaki cotton, army-style bush hats. Back in the hotel he phoned Kingsley Sheehan, putting him on standby for Tuesday. That was no sweat said Kingsley. The rest of the afternoon Norton spent reading and half-dozing in the bedroom and before long it was five.

  He folded his magazine, then went out to the main room and sat on one of the lounge chairs, watching as the boys gave it one last frantic burst before finishing just on ten past five.

  ‘Shit! I reckon that ought to do it.’ Tjalkalieri was the last one holding the bone. He placed it carefully on its sheet and they all flopped down in pretty much the same state of exhaustion as before. Eyes closed, heads back. Two on the settee, Tjalkalieri on the spare lounge chair across from Norton. ‘What time is it Les?’ he asked.

  Norton couldn’t help but feel for the little Aborigine. His arms dangling loose by his sides, feet spread out in front of him. Tiny streams of sweat were still trickling down his face. He was obviously buggered.

  ‘About quarter past five, Chalky.’

  ‘Righto. We’ll take a break for five or ten minutes, then we’ll get in touch with Mungoongali.’ Their eyes still closed, the others nodded in agreement. ‘This is where we’re going to have to ask you to leave us for about an hour. What we’re about to do now, you can’t see. Sorry mate.’

  ‘That’s okay. I understand.’ Norton got to his feet. ‘I may as well get going now. I’ll see you in about an hour.’

  Well there’s not a great deal I can do, thought Norton, standing outside the hotel. The rain had stopped but it was cool and starting to get quite dark. The Regent Street traffic was thick and noisy and exhaust fumes and other smog hung in the air, frozen momentarily by the headlights of passing cars. I’d better not go too far though. He had a quick glance through the drinkers crowded around the public bar. And I’d better not have anything to drink either. Oh well, guess I’ll just have to take in the sights of beautiful downtown Redfern for an hour.

  If Norton had stepped out of the hotel about ten minutes earlier, he more than likely would have seen two shadowy figures walking up the opposite side of the road towards the RSL. A shorter, stockier one who wasn’t feeling all that well and kept coughing and spitting into the gutter as he walked along. And a taller, rangier one who wasn’t sick at all, but certainly didn’t look too healthy.

  ‘You reckon the prick’ll turn up, Perce?’ asked Frank, as they shuffled along the RSL side of Regent Street.

  ‘Dunno for sure.’ Kilby shrugged. ‘But I reckon he will. He sounded fair dinkum over the phone.’ Kilby hawked and let go another gob into the gutter.

  ‘You reckon he might try and pull something clever?’

  ‘Dunno about that either. But I made a few phone calls and there’ll be six good boys up there with us.’

  ‘Seven counting me.’ Frank spat into the gutter also. ‘And just quietly, I hope the big cunt does.’

  ‘Just cool it up there Frank — till after we get this 500 grand. Then after that. Well, wouldn’t it be a shame if Mr Les Norton was to get knocked down by a hit-and-run driver.’

  ‘Or accidently copped a shotgun blast in the face.’

  Kilby laughed and spat in the gutter again. ‘Right now I wouldn’t mind giving him some of this bloody flu I’m getting back. But with half a million dollars in our kicks, anything could happen to him.’

  ‘Yeah. Anything.’

  They both laughed and continued walking.

  Norton continued with his stroll around Redfern, but after half an hour of grimy terrace houses, equally grimy shop windows and not much more in the darkness, he ended up back in the Greek’s having a coffee and raisin toast over the evening papers. When the hour was up he folded his newspapers and headed back to the hotel.

  Tjalkalieri, Mumbi and Yarrawulla were sitting on the settee dressed in their tracksuits and hats. Each of them looked quite subdued and serious, as if they’d just undergone some sort of strain. They looked up expressionlessly at Les as he crossed the room.

  ‘How’re you goin’ now fellas?’ he asked quietly. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Tjalkalieri. ‘We’ve done everything we had to. And everything we could do.’ He snatched a nervous look at the others next to him. It was the first time Les had ever seen him look like that. ‘We can only hope for the best now.’

  ‘You guys all right yourselves?’

  ‘Yeah we’re okay,’ nodded Mumbi. ‘We’re absolutely knackered and we’re a bit frightened about what we just done. But we’re okay.’

  ‘It’s still not too late to pull out if you want to.’

  ‘No Les,’ said Tjalkalieri, giving him a tired smile. ‘We’ve come this far. We may as well go through with it.�
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  Norton nodded as he folded his arms. ‘Okay. Now how do you want to work this?’

  Norton explained roughly the layout inside the club. He said he’d prop in the same spot he was drinking last night. He’d put his overnight bag — which would have nothing in it but dirty clothes — on the bar. He guessed Kilby and his team would probably be standing at the other end of the bar where it formed a bit of an alcove in front of the men’s room. That was where Frank and his two mates must have been standing when they saw him walk in before, and it was the sort of place where shifty characters usually like to congregate when they want to have a drink and do a bit of side-of-the-mouth talking.

  The boys said that that would be ideal for them. They’d enter the club behind Les, but not with him, then stand at the bar to his left and order their own drinks. He could discreetly point Kilby out to them, then stand back out of the road. As soon as it was all over the boys would leave the club and wait outside for Les.

  ‘How long do you reckon this will take? Once we’re inside,’ asked Norton.

  ‘From as soon as you point Kilby out to us. No more than a few seconds,’ replied Tjalkalieri.

  ‘Yeah? I thought you said I’d be seeing something weird. Something I’d never seen before.’

  ‘You will,’ said Yarrawulla. ‘But you’ll want to keep your eyes open.’

  ‘And you’ll want to be quick,’ added Mumbi.

  Norton nodded and looked at his watch. ‘Well. It’s getting on for six-thirty. We get going?’

  Norton got his bag out of the bedroom and opened the front door. The next thing they’d left the hotel and were walking slowly and silently, four abreast, heading for the showdown at the Redfern RSL. For all his own nervousness and uncertainty about what was going to happen, Norton couldn’t help but feel like Gary Cooper in High Noon or one of the Earp brothers heading for the gunfight at the OK Corral. All that was missing was someone playing a lone harmonica in the background. He was going to mention this to the others, but the worried, almost fearful looks on their faces told him this was not the time to be flippant.

  Once again there was no one at the reception desk so they ambled straight in and up the hallway to the bar and auditorium. The place wasn’t quite as crowded as Sunday night, but it was just as smoky and just as noisy. Keeping a discreet distance, the boys followed Les around the circle of clattering poker machines and stopped in the corner at the bar, just down from him. Before long the tired-looking barman from last night came over. He took Les’s order, a middy of new, and turned to the boys slightly down to his left, who ordered three of the same. To all appearances it didn’t look at all like they were together: the drinks came; they paid separately. Norton started looking around the bar, spotting Kilby and the others about a minute after they’d seen him.

  Les was fairly spot-on about Kilby and his associate’s drinking habits. He couldn’t miss Frank’s tall frame propped up in the alcove near the men’s room. I’ll bet that’s where they were standing last time I was in here thought Les. And I didn’t even notice them.

  Even at that distance Norton couldn’t mistake all the stitches sticking out of Frank’s mouth and cheekbone like a lot of little flies’ legs. And he couldn’t help but smile at the way the AWEC thug was gingerly sipping his middy to one side of his swollen mouth. Frank was looking absolute daggers back at Les. Standing just to Frank’s left — wearing brown trousers, matching shirt and stylish leather jacket, and more-or-less surrounded by another six big Aboriginal heavies — was Percy Kilby. He stared impassively at Norton, who stared back for a moment before picking up his overnight bag and placing it on the bar. He then stared back at Kilby and nodded to it with his head. Very casually, Norton picked up his middy, moved his head slightly to his left as he took a sip, and leant a fraction towards Tjalkalieri.

  ‘That’s him at the other end of the bar. The solid bloke in the tan leather jacket and brown shirt.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ replied Tjalkalieri urgently. ‘Now move back from the bar Les.’

  Norton did that, keeping his head straight but not taking his eyes off the boys. Kilby and Frank didn’t notice him say anything or see anything suspicious; they were too interested in the bag which was supposed to contain $250,000. What happened next, Norton still isn’t sure of and he still keeps it to himself.

  The boys had all turned in Percy Kilby’s direction, except that each had their eyes closed. After a second or two they opened them and when they did their strange blue eyes now had a bright, luminous green glow. The intense glow pulsated for a second, then seemed to radiate a few centimetres from their eyes where it formed a thin ribbon of emerald-green light. Quickly, the ribbon of green light beamed along the bar before materialising behind Kilby and his associates like a small, flat cloud of tiny sparkling crystals. It closely resembled a mist or a handful of glowing grains of green sand, suspended in mid-air.

  In the smoky light of the club and the heaving throng of drinkers, no-one noticed anything. Norton was watching intently and he only just saw it. Kilby and the others, who were too interested in watching Norton and his overnight bag, didn’t notice a thing.

  The sparkling crystals, or whatever they were, hung in the air behind Kilby and his associates for barely a second before they began to take the shape of an unbelievably muscular man. A man almost eight feet tall. But instead of skin he had thick, lumpy green scales. And where the figure had a man’s torso the head was a cross between a snake and some kind of lizard — possibly a goanna but much more evil, with piercing orange eyes. Across the creature’s shoulders and chest were body markings identical to those Tjalkalieri had on back in the room. The wicked, horrible mouth opened slightly and a thin forked tongue, black like wet tar, seemed to dart out and briefly touch Kilby on the back of his head.

  There was no noise, no sound at all. Only the hubbub of the drinkers and the rattle of the poker machines. Kilby and his gang still hadn’t noticed anything. Their eyes were glued on the overnight bag, though they were probably a little curious at the now wild-eyed look on Norton’s face.

  The monster, or apparition, or whatever it was, had no sooner touched Kilby when the tongue vanished back into the huge, scaly mouth. The figure then dissolved into the glowing crystals, then into the thin beam of green light which raced back down the bar and swiftly vanished into the glow still radiating from Tjalkalieri’s, Mumbi’s and Yarrawulla’s eyes. The boys closed their eyes for a moment and when they opened them again they were as clear, blue and piercing as ever. They picked up their middies and continued drinking as though nothing had happened.

  The whole strange, horrifying incident had taken no more than six or eight seconds. No-one really saw it. The one or two drunks that did could only shake their heads in disbelief and forget about it. Even Norton, who was prepared for and saw the whole thing, wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed. But he was certainly stunned.

  Eventually Norton shifted his gaze back to Kilby and Frank, who were staring back at him, curious about the odd look on the big Queenslander’s face. Kilby pointed towards the bag, said something to Frank, and still had his left arm out in Norton’s direction when he began to blink rapidly. His jaw swung open and a look of shock and disbelief spread across his face as his gaze switched to the boys standing quietly at the bar. From where he was standing, Norton could see Kilby’s mouth and throat moving as he made several short, choking gasps. He clutched at his chest with one hand and turned to Frank for support with the other. Frank’s face screwed up with worry at the look on his boss’s. But now it wasn’t a look of pain. It was a look of peace. A smile of understanding, as if a great mystery had just unfolded itself to him, and although he knew what was just about to happen to him he was glad that it was. He gave one small, final gasp and collapsed at Frank’s feet.

  All eyes immediately focused on the stricken AWEC boss. Norton glanced over at the boys who were now finishing their beers. They put their empty glasses down and headed for the door.

  ‘W
e’ll see you out the front, Les,’ said Tjalkalieri as they walked past. Still a bit dumbfounded at what was going on around him, Norton could only nod.

  He turned back to the other end of the bar where Frank and several others were crouched over Kilby. Through the confusion and hubbub Norton heard someone yell out. ‘Quick. Get a doctor.’ Les picked up his overnight bag full of dirty T-shirts and walked up for a better view.

  The chances of finding a doctor drinking in Redfern RSL are pretty remote. But as is often the case there was an off-duty nurse in the club, a plump, apple-faced woman in her early fifties who now worked part time and was in there having the odd middy or ten before she switched over to brandies and soda. And go easy on the soda. She huffed and bustled her way through the crowd. Not really enjoying having her drinking disturbed, though relishing in her brief moment of importance, she told Frank and the others to move aside while she undid Kilby’s collar and loosened his belt. Professionally she picked up Kilby’s wrist and held it for a second before placing his hand back on his chest. She placed her hand on the side of his neck, waited a moment, then put her ear on his heart. Grim faced and tight lipped the sister next peeled Kilby’s eyelid back with her thumb: his pupils were just widened, dark pools of nothing. The sister shook her head and placed Kilby’s hand down by his side, before getting slowly and a little unsteadily to her feet.

  ‘I’m afraid he’s dead,’ she shrugged, looking helplessly around her.

  ‘Dead! said Frank, who was still kneeling by Kilby’s side. He leapt to his feet and stared accusingly at the slightly swaying nurse. ‘What do you mean dead? There’s got to be something you can do.’

  ‘I’m sorry young man. But it’s too late. There’s no pulse. No heartbeat. No respit... no resp... He’s stopped breathing and his pupils are dilated.’ She shrugged again. ‘Call for the paramedics. But they won’t be able to do anything. He’s dead.’