“This is bloody wonderful!” Alex sighs, leaning against the rock wall with a piece of fish and a mussel cradled in one hand and a plum held between the fingers of the other.
Behind the flickering flames of the fire only a thin line of light marks where the sun disappeared below the horizon a few minutes earlier. She could be talking about the scene in front of them or the food or both. It doesn’t matter. The whole experience is captivating. It isn’t hard to almost forget the sociopath hunting them.
“The only thing missing is a good wine,” Jed says, enjoying the tang of pepper and the feeling of a full stomach at the end of a long day. He contemplates the scene spread before them in silence for a while longer. “It’s good we left the plane until a new day. We’ll start early tomorrow, so eat up. There’ll be no breakfast and it’ll be a long day.” There is a nagging concern eating away inside him. He can sense Alex is a lot more concerned than she appears and silently salutes her courage. A lot has happened since the previous evening and not many people would have coped. She has his total respect.
Alex is mellowing with the taste of good food and the tranquillity of their camp. She is surprised that such a meal can be scraped up out of the wilderness and be so enjoyable. “This is pretty good,” she offers as she picks up another piece of fish and an oyster to cup in her hand, topping them with another plum.
Jed is resting against the rock face with his backside nestled comfortably into the sand. “It’d be nothing without the pepper.”
“Prepared for all occasions, that’s me!” she says, knowing he is having a dig about the haphazard contents of her travel bag. “Be thankful for unexpected surprises!”
“That bastard means to kill you and me as well,” Jed says, knowing his bluntness could shatter the atmosphere.
“I know,” Alex replies, equally blunt. “I always suspected there would be a showdown sometime, I just didn’t expect it to be now. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” Her eyes sweep over the sunset and ocean in front of them.
“No need to apologise Alex. I’ve always had a tendency to end up in dicey situations.” That’s understating the case. He’s been shot at a few times but this is the first time a woman has been involved, on his side. He has too much experience to allow himself to become over-confident. Fear is good. It concentrates the mind. Only the stupid or the pretenders claim not to be scared. “We’ll get through this, and have some great memories.”
Alex looks sideways at him. “I have no doubt we’ll get through this. It’s only the bit in between that’s uncertain.”
Jed has to smile inwardly at that. “We’re surrounded by darkness and the sounds of the night, lit only by the comforting glow of the fire. Imagine the fear of our ancestors as they huddled together as the day died away and they settled down to sleep, looking forward to the dawn.”
“It must have been scary to lose the ability to see, and sit under a black sky lit by thousands of stars,” Alex replies, looking up into the darkness, relieved by the sparkle of innumerable twinkling lights and the flames of the dying fire. “They would have had only themselves for security, at the mercy of anything out there in the darkness. It’s good to have security. Being safe is an underrated feeling, only truly valued when you’ve been at the other extreme.”
Jed looks at her thoughtfully and tries to imagine what the other extreme must have been like for her. She is leaning back against the rock face and her T-shirt has ridden up to expose her stomach above the belt of her jeans. Light from the dancing flames plays across her body. It highlights the fine texture of her skin, marred only by two circular scars. He can see another on her neck where her blonde hair parts at shoulder level. Burn marks, he deduces, cigarette burns. He has an image of her being held face down as something repulsive is done to her and the cigarette is held to her neck. A shudder of anger washes through him as he visualises the brutality of the man who derived pleasure from such acts. He begins to understand the reasons for her apparently contradictory behaviours that must reflect an internal battle between the urge for control and spontaneity and emotional security versus a desire for intimacy.
Their eyes meet. Alex sees him glance down to her waist and back up to her eyes. She knows what has caught his attention. She holds his gaze. “Physical pain I can take, no matter how bad,” she says. “Emotional pain is something else. It can make me disappear into a place within myself where I can be safe. The danger is I may not come back out. I can lash out with the urge to hurt the person who caused the pain—not physically, but verbally and emotionally. I don’t really want to but it’s the only way I know to keep myself, the ‘me’ inside, safe.”
Jed listens carefully. “I think I understand,” he replies carefully. “For someone I was close to, I could live with that, because I can understand the context and know the lashing out isn’t necessarily personal.”
She catches his eyes again with a look that holds more than a hint of challenge. “I appreciate the intention of the words, but time may test the reality,” she replies, equally carefully.
Trying to defuse the intensity of the moment, they talk about the scene in front of them and their past experiences as the darkness wraps itself around them. Even in this blackness, lit only by the dancing glow of flames, sounds of life surround them—the clicking of insects, the call of the occasional bird and other sounds they cannot place. Jed is glad he has enclosed the camp with a network of dead branches dragged from the surrounding scrub. The sound of snapping timber will alert him to anything that tries to pass through the barrier. He is comfortable in the bush but they are in crocodile country, not far from the water, and he is wary. The barrier provides a little extra security.
Alex has gone quiet, slumping into the hollow scraped into the sand. It has been a long and exhausting day and they have covered a lot of country. Jed feels ripples of tiredness beginning to lap at his soul and slides down into the hollow alongside her. His back touches Alex’s as he drifts on the verge of sleep. He doesn’t like sleeping on his left side. His heartbeat distracts him from drifting off to sleep, so he rolls over. He needs somewhere to rest his arm, so he drapes it over Alex, who is already on the verge of sleep. Now he is comfortable. He lets his mind wander through the events of the day and the experiences that have brought them to this point. Tiredness overcomes them both as Alex snuggles into him. Jed’s last action is to put his hand onto the hilt of the knife thrust into the sand next to him. With that located, he drifts into sleep.
During the night, his mind catches various sounds too insignificant to wake him fully—the slow thump of a kangaroo, the hoot of what must have been an owl, the splash of something in the water and the grunting of wild pigs scavenging in the bush nearby. He analyses the noises, half asleep, recognises they pose no threat and drifts off again. There are no sounds that will take his arm from around Alex and spur him into action.
Chapter Forty-one
Charcoal and Davey rein in under the cool shadows of a boab tree after a hard day’s ride. Their horses rest under the trees, nibbling on grassy tussocks clinging stubbornly to the red soil among the eucalyptus and paper bark trees. The sun is close to touching the horizon. They roll out their bedding, coax a fire out of fallen timber and throw potatoes wrapped in leaves into the coals.
While Charcoal tends the horses, Davey takes the rifle and stalks into the bush. He hasn’t been long gone before Charcoal hears the crack of the Winchester and the distinct thump of a bullet hitting a soft target. Davey returns with a satisfied smile and throws the kangaroo on the fire, turning it by its legs until it frizzles and stiffens. He rubs the burnt fur off with a stick, his eyes immune to the smoke and his face impervious to the heat radiating from the coals.
After nightfall, they eat with the knives that live daily in the weathered leather sheaths strapped to their belts, ready for any task. They slice pieces of potato and kangaroo and slip them into their mouths while casually reviewing the day. The evening air currents gently waft the smell of burning c
oals and the aroma of the kangaroo into their nostrils as their eyes gaze into the night sky. It is a natural habit that has always been with them as they tend cattle across the vast landholdings of the stations they work.
Charcoal lowers his eyes and stares into the flames, dancing across the surface of the remaining coals. “Sump’n’s goin’ on I don’t like,” he says, pronouncing his words carefully as he slips a piece of kangaroo into his mouth, enjoying its tender juices. “These people are not together. The first ones don’t know they’re bein’ followed. The ones following don’t want to be discovered.” He stares into the coals and reaches over to toss more wood onto the fire.
“That don’t sound good Charcoal,” Davey responds as he lowers his eyes from the night sky and looks over to his mate and leader. They have spent many years together in the bush, hard times and danger forging a bond well beyond family connections. “Tomorrow, maybe I should go back and let the boss know what’s going on.” He reaches over to the wood pile and throws his own piece onto the fire.
Charcoal lets the flames begin devouring the wood before responding. “We’ll see what ‘appens tomorrow Davey,” he replies. “It might be nothing. Might be bad things starting.”
His words leave Davey a little uneasy. Until now, everything in Davey’s life has always been straight forward. Charcoal has created certainty with his skill and stamina. It’s a new sensation to feel doubt nag at him.
“Let’s just see what tomorrow brings,” Charcoal decides. A determined purpose has brought these people out here and it isn’t hunting or fishing. They are swinging toward Aboriginal land. There is only one thing he knows that would pull white people toward it. He’s heard the vague stories about what lies out there in the sacred ground. He has no choice but to believe them as he’s never been out there and knows of no one who has. The taboos of the sacred site and the stories of Ungondangery keep his people away.
As he sits and stares into the red hot embers, he wonders whether the country houses a secret that can no longer be hidden. “We will see what tomorrow brings,” he announces again without looking up.
Davey nods in agreement, both staring into the fire, as men have since the Dreamtime.
Chapter Forty-two
Jed wakes early but doesn’t move as dawn stealthily approaches. His senses play with the sounds and feelings around him as he rests in the hollow. The night has not been cold and he is aware his arm is still draped over Alex as she lies curled in sleep. In no hurry to move, Jed feels the warmth of her body and listens to her relaxed breathing. It feels natural and comfortable to be close to her and his body stirs in response as her subtle womanly scent teases his nostrils.
The early morning light silhouettes the beach and ocean well before the sun creeps above the horizon. Jed lies quietly and lets his mind review the sounds he picked up during the night, interspersed by dreams of flying with his arms spread wide as his body rises into the sky. He read that dreams of flying are interpreted as ambition and striving to achieve a goal. Today is the day their goal will be achieved.
Tempted to stay alongside Alex, Jed knows he should be stirring to prepare for the day. Instead he succumbs to temptation and cradles her a little more tightly, moving his body closer so it matches the curve of her own. Guiltily enjoying the sensation of her body so close to his, he lets the moment drag on.
Unconsciously she snuggles into him. A tremor of fear runs through him in case she senses what he is doing, but nothing happens. He steals a few extra minutes, enjoying the feeling of her curled up against his body. He visualises what he would like to be doing and then carefully lifts his arm and rolls sideways into a standing position. His limbs are stiff and his back fights against the act of walking, but he perseveres. Soon the blood starts flowing and his movements return to normal. He looks back at Alex still curled peacefully in the sand and bends to toss branches onto the remaining coals of the fire. He kneels down to blow the embers back into life. The flames are resurrected and fulfil their mission of consuming the timber, creating light and heat.
Drawing his knife, Jed heads over to the rocky point thrusting into the calm waters of the bay. With care he prises off oysters and mussels from the rocks just below water level and tosses them into the billy. It doesn’t take long to fill it and he carries it over to the trickle of fresh water running down the face of the bluff behind their camp to clean them before filling the billy again and placing it on the fire.
Alex hears him pottering around the camp and stirs, stretching herself in the hollow before opening her eyes and looking over toward him. Even though she slept soundly, she had sensed him lying against her and been conscious of the pressure of his arm draped over her body. She would never acknowledge it aloud, but she enjoyed the contact and sense of security the closeness created. She also sensed how he eased his body closer to her, feeling his hardness. Her subconscious had been on alert for any unwanted touch, but it hadn’t eventuated. She is happy it didn’t.
“Just getting some breakfast ready,” says Jed, squatting by the fire and feeding it more wood.
“Sounds like a great idea!” Alex stretches and rolls up into a sitting position. “I didn’t think we were getting any.”
Jed is tempted to shoot back a humorous remark about not getting any but figures he doesn’t need a smack in the head. “I changed my mind. We have the time and it’ll be a big day.”
“Won’t argue with that.” She reaches for the spear and steps out of the hollow to survey the early morning scene. Jed eyes her figure silhouetted against the morning sky, highlighting the curves of her breasts, body and legs down to where they merge with the sand. She has one hell of a body. He shakes the thought from his head. It’s the wrong time to be thinking about that.
“I’ll see if I can add anything to breakfast,” she offers and heads over to the rocks where she had success the night before. Jed puts the shellfish to one side, tends the fire and wanders down to the water’s edge to wash his face in the glassy smooth water. As he crouches over a rock pool he runs his hands over his face and feels the stubble beginning its rampage. He normally shaves twice a day and can well imagine what he is starting to look like ― modern day man reverting to his Cro-Magnon ancestors. Fancy thinking about his image at a time like this! But he has to admit that he is aware of the importance of image. Then again, he knows damn well he has projected an image over the years that some people can’t handle. It has cost him some opportunities but he really doesn’t care. He knows he can never work for anyone who can’t see who he really is.
Hearing a yell of triumph, Jed looks up to see her once again standing legs apart on the rocks in victory, holding the spear and an impaled fish above her head. The bay has potential to be a veritable supermarket of fresh fish. With such an availability of good, fresh bush tucker, he can understand why the lifestyle could eliminate the need to invent a refrigerator and the dependency that goes with it.
“Breakfast just got better!” He returns to camp to gather leaves to wrap the fish so it can cook on the coals. It is another Barramundi, steaming gently inside the leaves to keep its moisture and flavour. Once again, pepper from Alex’s travel bag adds a touch to a meal that could never be replicated in a restaurant. It is a simple dish; the flavour enhanced when presented against a background of isolated wilderness.
“Now that was absolutely wonderful!” Alex sighs, leaning back and licking the remaining juices off her fingers. I’m glad you relented over breakfast. The day would have been too long without it.”
“I can agree with that. Sometimes my urge to get things done means I sacrifice simple pleasures,” he admits, as he leans back and enjoys the feeling of a full stomach. They savour the sensation for precious minutes. Then Jed announces it is time to go.
Alex rolls her eyes at him but knows he is right.
It doesn’t take long to gather their meagre possessions and head up the beach after a wistful backward glance at the camp that kept them secure for the night. It has been a peacef
ul haven divorced from the reality of their situation. They both share the same feeling. When they look briefly into each other’s eyes, they recognise the shared emotion. Such a time may never come again. They will treasure the memories.
Soon they reach the end of the beach where it meets the silt-choked channel. They stop side by side and Jed scans the sky to their left imagining the glide approach in the Cessna, then swings right to visualise where they saw the wreck of the plane hidden by the undergrowth. From the beach their sight line is shielded by mangrove and scrub forming a tangled barrier in front of the taller trees. He eyes the surroundings again then pulls out his knife, holding it casually but confidently in his hand.
He indicates the direction with the blade of the knife. “In there.”
Alex nods. Their goal is tantalisingly close. “Lead on, Macduff.” Excitement and tension are coiled tightly inside her.
Jed heads up the beach with a determined stride. He steps boldly into the scrub, sweeping the first of the undergrowth aside to make room for their passage. Within a few steps the undergrowth becomes a thick, tangled mass. He sweeps the blade of the knife downward in hard cutting strokes to clear a narrow passage for them to push through. The vegetation tugs at their clothes and tries to smother them in its tangled tentacles. Jed slashes and cuts with practised precision.
Feeling like a full expedition rather than what must have only been a few tens of metres, they emerge into clearer space. The trunks of trees can be seen reaching up to support foliage stretching upward toward the life-giving light of the sun. They stop to gather breath and refocus their eyes in the more open space in front of them. The angle is different from their initial discovery, looking slightly up instead of down from the Cessna.
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