Getting back

by William Dietrich

  "Tuckerrrr!" Amaya was somewhere on the bank, sprinting ahead of them, and they thrashed in unison toward the sound of her voice. A bolt of lightning illuminated the uncoiling arc of a hurled line. Tucker's arm went up and he caught the rope just as Amaya was taking a desperate turn around a tree. The line tightened and so did the muscles on the big man's arm as he gripped with all his might. Now the river worked in their favor, pivoting them into the bank. They banged against roots, scrabbled, and clung, gasping for breath in the water-filled air. Daniel got an arm around Ico's chest and hauled and finally they were up, their knees on sand. He felt Amaya's small hands trying to drag them and slowly they worked away from the flood's grip. Ico was coughing and cursing.

  The men lay as if dead for a moment, the woman crouched over them like shelter from the storm. Only slowly did the group realize that the rain had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The cloudburst had moved south, the electricity of its fury glinting there. The river was still full, but its roar had become less angry. The crest of the flood had passed them.

  "You okay, Washington?" It was Tucker, his chest still heaving as he gasped in deep breaths.

  "Hell no." Ico groaned. "I almost drowned." He was soaked and coated with sand, looking as thin and forlorn as a wet cat. "I had to get out of my bag and then out of my tent… damn, I was scared! Where did that water come from?"

  "You prayed for it, if I remember correctly," Amaya said.

  "Flash flood," Daniel explained. "The desert doesn't absorb water, so a storm upstream sends all the rain down… I should have remembered that. We're lucky we all didn't drown. We were stupid to camp in the riverbed when we saw that storm."

  "It came and went so fast," Amaya said.

  The stars were popping out again, illuminating the churning water with dim light. "Now we know why the ants don't nest in the riverbed," Tucker said.

  By morning the river was gone again, leaving only periodic pools. For breakfast they ate some peanuts Amaya had brought into her tent. The rest of their food had been carried downstream and they'd have to look for it. "At least we have water," Daniel tried to joke.

  "Even that will be gone again in a few days, I'll bet," Amaya replied.

  Tucker shook his head. "When they said 'adventure,' they weren't kidding."

  "They should have warned us about the possibility of floods." Ico was glum. "This isn't right. There's something about this whole thing that's not right. We could have died in our beds. Shouldn't they have warned us?"

  "You said that before," Tucker chided. "Notice how hard it is to file a complaint?"

  "Oh, I'm going to complain all right. I'm going to raise bloody hell."

  "Come on," Daniel argued as much to himself as the others. "This is what we paid for. We're alive, and we're learning. That's the whole point, isn't it?"

  "Learning what damn fools we are," Ico said.

  They fanned out downstream and began retrieving gear, some of it half buried and much of it dented or torn. It was hot, dispiriting work because so much had been lost. They brought what they salvaged to an assembly point under a red river gum tree on the sandy bank and went through it, hanging food bags out of the reach of ants. Slowly, a meager inventory began to emerge.

  "We have three of the four packs," Daniel summarized. Amaya's had not been found. "One tent. Tucker's is lost, and Ico's is in rags, but his sleeping bag is salvageable. We can cut it in two for the men to use as blankets, and use Ico's tent fabric to repair Amaya's. My bedroll was saved too. The best news is our boots."

  The others nodded. They'd gotten in the habit of propping them upside down on branches to keep out snakes or insects, and the bushes they'd used had been high enough on the bank to be out of reach of the river. They could still walk.

  "But some of the clothes and utensils are gone," Daniel went on. "We'll have to share. And the food…"

  "Half was either lost or spoiled," Amaya said gloomily. "We should have hung it up like the shoes. It would keep it from animals as well."

  "Next time. We're learning, okay?"

  "So what are we going to eat?" Ico asked.

  "What we always intended to, the food of the land. We just have to learn how to do it a bit quicker, that's all."

  "Daniel, let's face it. We're screwed." It was Tucker. "All that gear…"

  "Lightens our load. Look, now we can move lighter and faster. The aborigines didn't need that crap and neither do we. Ico was about to sink into the sand with all that gear."

  "No I wasn't."

  "We've still got one compass, some matches, a stove." Daniel felt in his pocket and pulled out a small figurine. "And this. Good luck charm."

  "What the devil is that?" Ico asked.

  "Gordo Firecracker. Righter of wrongs, nemesis of evil."

  "And the worst-performing charm I've ever seen. Haven't you heard of St. Christopher?"

  "We're alive, aren't we? And light-years ahead of our primitive ancestors still. And all we have to do is walk out. Walk to the coast and go home."

  "A thousand miles."

  "Maybe. We don't know that. Maybe less. Maybe even farther. But we can do it. We're a bit bruised, a bit wiser, a bit tougher. I hope. This is what the adventure is all about."

  "The riskiest thing on earth." Ico was quoting Elliott Coyle. No one needed to reply.

  "Well, we lost some canteens," Tucker said. "That's serious, for sure."

  "It's time to find some gourds. Some of the aborigines made water bags from kangaroo skin. And maybe we'll travel by night instead of day to conserve how fast we use water."

  "And we've got to hunt," Tucker added.

  "You and I are going to do that right now. Seriously. We need to learn in a hurry. Amaya and Ico can check out the plants around here. We've got to supplement the pack food we have left, starting immediately."

  "Who put you in charge, Dyson?" It was Ico, looking tired.

  "The weather."

  They spent two days at the site of the flood. Relieved from having to cover distance, they began to notice more details of the country they were in. The desert seemed most alive at dusk and dawn, when day and night shifts of animals converged and the coolness encouraged browsing. The rain had brought an instant riot of new growth, and the nearby grassy plain was blooming with wildflowers that shimmered like a rainbow sea. Amaya found gourds to hold water and urged the others to look for brightly colored fruits that would indicate ripeness. They found wild orange, wild fig, bush tomato, and plum. The fruits were smaller and less sweet than what the adventurers were accustomed to, but edible. They ate them cautiously, nonetheless, so as not to cramp their stomachs.

  Hunting success was slow. Twice more Daniel encountered kangaroos in the evening but was no more successful in getting close than before. He had more luck with the Outback's huge lizards, some three and four feet long, which could be found dozing in the sun. With a patient stalk, a sprint, and hard throw, he managed to spear two, clubbing the stunned animals before they could scuttle off. He gutted them with his knife, the blood staining the sand, and then swaggered back to camp, swinging his kill by their tails.

  "Well I'll be," Ico greeted. "Dyson killed some dinosaurs."

  "It's a start," Daniel said.

  "You won't mind if I observe they look about as appetizing as toad shit."

  "You won't mind that I don't give you a share."

  "Ah." Ico looked at the reptiles more closely. "They do have a certain beauty, I now see."

  "Goddamned gorgeous if you're hungry enough."

  "Conceded."

  They built a fire and sampled the meat.

  "A year's salary to eat lizard," Daniel joked, secretly pleased at his success. Great white hunter.

  "Ain't bad," Tucker judged. "Like chicken."

  "Everything tastes like chicken," Ico reminded.

  "Not this, I'll bet." It was Amaya, slyly holding something up.

  The men recoiled. "What in the hell is that?"

  She was holding up what looked
like a white, writhing worm, or a huge naked caterpillar. It was longer and thicker than a man's thumb. "It's a witchetty grub. I read about them. You dig at the base of a witchetty bush where the ground is cracked…"

  "A what?"

  "Those gray, ugly shrubs. The grubs live in the roots. You crack the root to get at them. I tried it. It's hard work."

  Ico laughed. "You've got to be kidding. That's a big bug, right? It's got segments, spots…"

  "It's supposed to be rich in protein and vitamins and very filling."

  "Filling enough that I'll bet no one ever eats two," Daniel said.

  "I'll bet she won't even eat one," Ico said. He reached in his pocket and pulled something out. "Here, I had this on me when the flood hit." He slapped down a wrinkled hundred-dollar note. "This says there's no way anybody is going to eat that."

  "The aborigines did."

  "I want to see you do it."

  She held up its writhing form. "I'll share it with you, Ico."

  "I'd rather starve."

  "You haven't even been hungry yet." Suddenly she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and dropped the grub into her mouth, swallowing with an audible gulp without biting.

  "Oh my God!" Tucker cried.

  Ico was awed. "More astonishing than Ursula Uvula on Sex-Net."

  Amaya looked straight ahead, fighting to keep it down. "The trick," she breathed tightly, "is to swallow it head first so it can't crawl back out." She shivered, then smiled. "It's really not too bad. I can't feel it moving." She snatched up the hundred dollars. "I want more when I make an ant ball," she said fiercely.

  "It was worth a hundred bucks to see you do that," said Ico. "My God, Amaya, you are some woman. I'll have some fantasies about that one."

  She threw some sand at him.

  "No, really," he persisted. "That was better than fishing us out of the drink."

  The foraging had restored some confidence and they set out east again. The loneliness of Australia was its preeminent characteristic: in the week since they'd arrived they'd seen no other human, encountered no other track, and discovered no road or evidence of past habitation. It was as if they were the last, or first, people on earth. The spangled night sky emphasized their feeling of smallness and Daniel realized what a distorted sense of reality it had been to spend most of his life in enclosed rooms.

  Rooms were accomplishment enough to make their human builders feel important and small enough to make their occupants feel big. A room represented not just interior space but boundaries, enclosure, fortification, territory. The desert felt just the opposite. The flatness was so monotonous that there was little feeling of getting anywhere, and the sky so huge that Daniel felt like a microbe under the eye of the sun. Instead of being depressed by this perception, however, he decided to be encouraged by it. If he was not dominating his environment then he was becoming a part of it, woven into its web. It didn't make him smaller, it joined him to something bigger. Since he was made from chemicals first forged in exploding stars, he reasoned, he shouldn't be intimidated by the vastness of the sky but feel at home with it. Sister stars! For the first time in his life he didn't have to get out of his apartment, or workplace, or city, to get somewhere. There was no there, everything was here. He was always- no matter where he slept- home.

  "So, are you finding what you were looking for?"

  It was Amaya, dropping back to walk beside him.

  "In part. I was just thinking I like the immensity of the place. It makes you feel less significant and more so at the same time, and somehow that feels right."

  "Really? I'm a little frightened by it. It's bigger than I imagined. That flood, the suddenness of it, scared me."

  "You didn't seem very scared. That was quick thinking to get the rope."

  "I wasn't thinking, I was reacting. What if you three had drowned?"

  He glanced at her. "It would have left the most resourceful of the four."

  "No. I would have died, very lonely and very afraid and very quickly. I know that. It's beautiful here but I don't have that feeling of rightness yet. I think women need something more."

  "People, I think you said."

  "A person." Her look was both challenging and questioning.

  Daniel was quiet, trying to decide how he wanted to respond. He liked this woman.

  "You said you've found only part of what you're looking for," she finally went on. "What part are you still seeking?"

  He took a breath. "A person."

  "Oh." She watched him, his face tan, his clothes red from dust. There was a new hardness to him, she realized. Less of the boy and more of the man. Now he was looking straight ahead, avoiding her implied question. "We have that in common, I guess."

  He stopped then and turned to her. She stopped too. "I joined Outback Adventure because I met a woman who told me about it," he explained. "I think she might have come here before me. I'm not really looking for her, but I wonder if she's out here somewhere. I wonder how she's doing. It wouldn't be honest not to tell you that."

  Amaya nodded, trying not to betray emotion. "I understand."

  "I like you, Amaya. You're like her, in a way."

  Her smile was pained. "Daniel, that's great. I hope you find her."

  "I just didn't want to mislead you or anything." He felt awkward, and suddenly resentful that she'd made him talk about it. He hadn't been thinking about Raven and now he had to.

  "I appreciate the honesty."

  "I mean she doesn't even like me, as near as I can tell. I just need… to be sure."

  "That's fine. I was just curious. I'm sorry."

  He squinted at her. "It must be hard for you being the only woman. I hadn't thought much about that."

  "You're all behaving yourselves." She looked away. "I wouldn't mind finding your friend, though. Finding another woman. I think it would be less frightening."

  "Sometimes I think she's out here, nearby. Like I can feel it."

  "That sounds nice."

  "No. It's distracting."

  They were quiet for a while. Finally he reached out, his fingertips touching her hand. "Amaya, you'll find what you're looking for. Not just yourself, but someone else. I know it."

  "I'm sure I will," she said lightly, looking around at the desert to avoid his eyes. "Sometimes the trick is discovering what you've already found."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The landscape became increasingly monotonous as they walked eastward. The terrain was flat, watercourses had disappeared, and the vegetation was shrublike and gray. Distance was beginning to take a toll. Pant legs were becoming frayed from the constant friction of stabbing grass and brush, and the flood had stolen replacement clothing. Daniel gave up a pair of shorts to be shared as a source of patches. They'd salvaged two hand-sewing kits that were proving invaluable, but had already consumed most of their thread. "We can unravel more from a pant leg," Amaya suggested.

  Their feet were increasingly sore from the pounding, and their collective weariness seemed to be cumulative. Each night did not provide enough rest to make up for the exertion of the previous day. Yet instead of slowing they pushed harder, trying now to get to wetter, better country. Discouragingly, the terrain grew drier and hotter. They were walking on an ancient seabed on what is geologically the world's oldest continent, its mountains worn to nubs and its valleys filled with sediment by unimaginable time. It was so unchanging it seemed as if they were walking in place.

  Their anxious progress gave them little time to hunt or forage, and their remaining food supply was falling rapidly. The strategy was to replenish it in kinder country, if they could find it, but meanwhile they looked when they could. Daniel still made his dusk circuits from camp, and managed to bring in two crested pigeons, a rock wallaby (a small, agile relative of the kangaroo), and a monitor lizard. Just for amusement he caught and carried back a thorny devil, a small squat lizard defended by conelike spines. It looked like a bizarre monster out of a lurid movie.

  "You finally found s
omething that looks worse than the food in junior high," Ico assessed.

  One evening Daniel came back with a troubled look.

  "No luck?" Amaya asked.

  "No, I saw something," he said slowly.

  "But didn't spear it," Tucker observed.

  "Didn't even get close. I was too startled. It moved… like a man."

  "What?"

  "It was one of those things you see out of the corner of your eye. I turned, and it was gone. I shouted, but there was no answer. I couldn't find any trace of him. Or her."

  "Another adventurer?" Amaya wondered.

  "Another mirage," said Ico. "So far I've seen two ice cream stands, an Olympic-sized pool, a phantom beer truck, and a Tahitian topless troupe."

  They laughed.

  "Seriously," said Daniel, "could someone be following us?"

  "If they are, they're more idiotic than we are," Ico said. "I think we're completely lost." He dug out his map again and studied it. "It may be stupid to simply strike due east if there's wetter terrain to the north or south. Maybe we can find a real river to follow, or at least mountains that would catch and funnel more rain."

  "You want more rain?" Tucker asked. "After that flood?"

  "I want normal rain. Sensible rain. Useful rain."

  Tucker bent to look over his shoulder. "So where are we?"

  "That's the damn problem. I don't know." He turned the map sideways. "This doesn't show rivers anyway."

  "Ico, you got taken, you dumb paranoid."

  "No, this is real, I'm convinced of it. If I can just get oriented."

  "Well, it's stupid to go off north or south if we don't know what's in that direction," Daniel said. "They told us it gets greener to the east. We just have to keep going."

  "What if they were lying?" Ico asked.

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Maybe that's the game. To catch them in their lies. It's getting browner, not greener."

  "Ico, that's paranoid."