Precipice of Doubt

by Mardi Alexander

  Pip stood up and brushed her hands on her trousers. “Plenty of time for Jodi to get back and organize some help to arrive.” Pip brushed a quick kiss on the top of her head. “But we need to keep pushing on while we still have light.” Charlie felt, more than saw, Pip walk past her head and step into the frame. She lifted her up once again. “Ready to go, love?”

  Charlie knew Pip was deflecting her concerns and trying to remain positive for her sake. She’d have done the same. “Ready when you are.”

  Charlie’s body jolted as Pip surged forward with the frame along the dirt track. Charlie closed her eyes. There wasn’t much she could do now except lie back and worry enough for both of them.

  Cole woke as the timer went off. The house was filled with the mouth-watering smells of home cooking. She opened the oven and tested the pies. Her grandmother would be proud. They were lightly golden, moist, and cooked evenly right through. With the vegetables all cut and sitting in a pot of water in readiness, all she’d have to do, once the mob returned, was heat the pies and cook the vegetables and serve.

  She put the pies on the bench and covered them with a tea towel to cool. Checking her watch, she frowned. Time was getting on. It had gone past five, an hour later than she had expected them to return. With nothing left to do before the last of the dinner preparations, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to replace the koala leaves with fresh branches and make sure the possums and birds had plenty to eat for the evening. It would be one less thing for Pip and Charlie to worry about after their big day.

  By the time she got back to the house, it was half past six. Knowing how important the regular feeding patterns were for the joeys, Cole mixed up some fresh milk and gave them the first of their evening meals.

  By the time she finished and cleaned up, having noted all the pertinent feeding details, the clock read half past seven. A kernel of worry began to settle and grow in the pit of her stomach. She tried ringing first Jodi’s mobile number, then Pip’s, then Charlie’s, all without success. She assumed they were still in a mobile reception black spot up in the hills. It was now well and truly getting dark and she knew they’d intended to be home well before that happened.

  She headed to Pip’s study, where she remembered seeing a UHF CB radio. Jodi had a radio in her Rover which she kept tuned to UHF station 12. She tried calling Jodi on that, only to be greeted with an empty static-filled wall of no reply.

  Eight o’clock rolled around and still there was no sign or message from the girls. Cole had lost count of how many times she picked up her phone, hoping for a blinking blue light to indicate a message—they’d had a flat tyre, or run out of fuel, or some sort of mechanical difficulty, and they would be home soon. But each time she looked, the screen was blank. No messages, no calls, no indication of contact whatsoever.

  She pulled out one of Pip’s maps and tried to remember what she’d heard Jodi and Charlie planning. She traced various routes with her fingers along trails, roads, and creeks, hoping that something would trigger some memory of where they said they were going. She had a vague idea of where Big Bird had been released and where Jodi had thought she had spotted him only recently, but Cole knew how big the area was. Precise details were what she needed if she was to be of any help. Her breath hitched and caught. She really didn’t know exactly where they had gone. If she had to call someone to help look for them, she wasn’t even sure where to suggest they start.

  By ten o’clock she went looking for Pip’s phone book. They were now well over six hours overdue. She wasn’t sure where exactly she needed to look, but something deep inside her gut told her she needed to make a start, and now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jodi concentrated on the placement of every step, and at the same time tried to remember to set the markers for Pip. The area around her ankle where her hiking shoe rubbed her skin was tender from the swelling. Her ankle felt wobbly and unstable. Yeah, she’d done a good job on it. She hobbled along, leaning on the gnarled stick for support, muttering to herself about how screwed up this entire day had gotten. She wished more than once that she’d taken the five minutes and had let Pip wrap her hands before setting out. The makeshift walking stick she was using was only making her torn and raw hands worse, the stick slick with blood.

  Swapping the stick from hand to hand to provide the smallest modicum of relief was no longer working. Several times she had leaned heavily on the stick to step over roots or rocks, only to have the stick slip from her hands, tearing skin as it went. She had no choice. She had to stop. She untied the light Gore-Tex zip-up jacket she had tied around her waist and cut it into large strips. She used the sleeves to wrap around her hands and the longer lengths to bind and support her ankle as best she could, albeit in a crude fashion. She found the sandwich and snack Pip had stowed away. Shoving the sandwich down her shirt top, she quickly scarfed the snack. She rose tenderly to her feet. Everything hurt. Time was getting away from her. She needed to push on.

  The daylight had disappeared quickly with the thickening of clouds. Hour by hour the cloud deck grew lower and thicker and darker. A southerly breeze picked up, bringing with it cool remnants of the Antarctic from where it likely originated. Gooseflesh peppered her skin. For just a brief moment she regretted cutting up her thin jacket, but it was a useless thought as the deed had been done. She tossed the thought aside and hoped the rain would hold off until morning, but her hopes dwindled when she heard a mutter of thunder in the distance.

  She strained to see what was in front of her in the waning light. Was it a branch in the trail or, heaven forbid, a python stretching itself across the metre wide expanse? After the day’s events, she couldn’t afford not to be extra vigilant. She stomped the end of her cane into the ground hoping that if it was indeed a snake, the vibrations would encourage it to move on. But it remained motionless. She couldn’t waste any more time deliberating, so she hobbled ahead, taking one tentative step at a time. She felt a small rock roll under the heel of her good foot. She lifted her injured ankle off the ground, bent the knee of the other leg, and found the golfball sized piece of granite. After straightening up and regaining her balance, she used her best softball underhand pitch and tossed it in the stick-or-snake’s direction. When the rock bounced off with a low thud, she breathed a sigh of relief. Stick.

  Jodi looked around and tried to gauge where she was. But it was too dark to make out any landmarks. Even the ground had become flat and monotonous. She paused to slide her mobile and her pocketknife that had a compass built into the handle out of her pocket. She’d have to use the torch app sparingly to save the battery, as well as maintain some amount of night vision. She flicked it on and held it in front of her for a few seconds. She checked the direction she was heading and the area around her before extinguishing the light. If she’d only packed a regular torch…But she’d set it aside when she was loading her pack with day hike essentials. In her mind’s eye, Jodi could see exactly where it was, sitting right next to the small pile of dehydrated food she’d forgotten all about. Now she wished she had those packets as well, her carefully stowed sandwich having been lost. Her stomach clenched with fear and hunger, and was tinged with a bit of nausea from overexertion.

  Thunder rolled overhead, seemingly rumbling towards her, through the darkened clouds, spreading out into the night with the promise of rain. Jodi looked at the sky behind her. Short, dim flashes of lightning seemed to play in the clouds. By her best estimation, the major part of the storm was still creeping up the valley. She’d have to hurry. Once the cloudburst became more organized, it would undoubtedly pack a wallop. And Pip and Charlie were right in its path.

  She shifted her weight to turn, lost her balance, and fell. Her opposite foot slammed into her ankle, twisting it painfully. “Shit!” Jodi grabbed her ankle and rocked back and forth, a sob bubbling up from within. She let it out, not caring that it scared a flock of birds that voiced their annoyance with loud squawks. “Shut up!” Anger formed and grew hot in her chest. Heat flushed
through her body and she took strength from it. She struggled to her feet, muscles quivering in her legs and arms, and pushed on.

  The throaty cough and growl of a brushtail possum disturbed by her presence mingled with the singing of what sounded like a million frogs. She must be close to Surveyor’s Swamp. Jodi flicked the light on and then off, relieved to see the reeds and high grasses of the marsh. Not far now. A drop of rain fell on her shoulder. What she had mistaken for a breeze wafting through the trees, rubbing the leaves against each other, was actually the slow encroachment of the rain.

  Jodi quickly changed the position of her walking stick. She held it against the leg with the sprain and let it take most of her weight. She imagined her gait to be a combination of hobble-hitch-limp. If she wasn’t trying to outrun the storm, with Pip and Charlie still behind her, she might find it comical. And maybe one day they could all laugh about what had happened. But her friends were relying on her to get help. With a strength born of pure love and determination, she forged on.

  The rain became steadier and louder and harder. Before she knew it, she was moving through what seemed like a wall of water. The ground became treacherously slippery and she fell. Once. Twice. The rain washed the grime from her face. The cold slowly sapped her strength. She struggled blindly forward. Her vision was cut to only a couple of metres in front of her, leaving her only able to guess that she might be on the trail. She gave up trying to leave signs for Pip and Charlie to follow, hoping they would recognize the swamp like she did.

  Blackness, interrupted by flashes of lightning and deafening thunder, surrounded her. She wildly looked around. For a brief moment she didn’t have any idea where she was. Panic bubbled inside her. Jodi paused next to a huge gum tree taking refuge beneath its expansive canopy. Her teeth chattered as she grew increasingly colder. She had to keep moving or risk hypothermia. But where the hell was she? She turned in circles, trying to see something, anything that would give her a clue.

  She cringed and almost closed her eyes when lightning forks exploded across the sky, looking for something to clasp in their white, hot clutches. Quick flickers of light danced across her eyes and the landscape, briefly reflecting against the smooth grey bark of the trees. But not everything was vertical. A large black form seemed to huddle against the tree line. Jodi squinted into the dying flash of light. She wanted to believe but was too scared to. Was it her Rover? She only had to wait a split second before she got her answer as another booming flash exploded overhead.

  Cole tried each of the girls’ phones and the UHF radio every half hour, in between conversations with the local emergency services. She had the map spread out on Pip’s dining room table and had marked several places of likely interest. She was waiting for the local State Emergency Service coordinator, Garry Knight, to finish liaising with local police and get back to her with a plan of action. She paced the living room and tried the mobiles once more. Still no answer. She tried the radio, anticipating the same response, just as her mobile sounded.

  “Garry? Yes, hello. What’s the latest?”

  Cole listened with a heavy heart. Helicopters didn’t fly at night up in the mountains, and the rain that had started to fall would surely only further hamper rescue efforts.

  “Are you saying you can’t do anything until morning? I’m telling you, something is wrong. We can’t afford to wait. We need…”

  Static sounded from the radio. Cole missed what Garry was saying, her focus keenly attuned to the CB speaker. She waited. There. It happened again. She dashed over to the table and keyed the mike. “Jodi? Jodi? Is that you? It’s Cole. Come in, Jodi.”

  Static crackled back at her.

  “Jodi? Are you there? It’s me, Cole.” Cole held her breath as the silence grew around her.

  Nothing. Her shoulders slumped and she raised the mobile phone back up to her ear. “Sorry, Garry, I thought—”

  “I’m here.”

  Cole froze. Did she really hear a voice? Or was it the sound of desperation and the trickery of her brain telling her what she desperately wanted to hear?

  “I’m here.” The voice was strained and mixed with static, but it was there.

  With a sob, Cole picked up the mike. “Jodi, love, I’m here too.” She released the mike and held it to her forehead as she shook with relief. Oh, thank you, God. “Where are you?”

  “Near Surveyor’s Swamp.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “No. Need help. Charlie’s been bitten by a snake and Pip is with her. Had to leave them behind to get help.”

  Cole was frantically trying to find Surveyor’s Swamp on the map when she remembered she had left Garry waiting on the phone. “Hang on a minute, bub, I’ve got someone who’ll know where you are—it’s Garry from the SES.” She quickly relayed Jodi’s message. Garry wanted more details than she could offer so she picked up the mike.

  “Jodes, Garry wants to ask you some questions. Hang on and I’ll put you through.” She lined up the phone and the mike. “Go ahead, love, tell him what you know.”

  “Garry, I’m near Surveyor’s Swamp. I’ve just set my SOS device off—you can get the exact grid reference coordinates from that. We need urgent medical help. I’ve got one snakebite victim and an insulin dependent diabetic. It’s pouring with rain up here and there’s a wind-chill factor that’s making life uncomfortable.”

  Cole listened to Jodi’s voice as she relayed details to Garry’s questions. Nobody could read Jodi better than she, and while Jodi might appear to be calm in the giving over of helpful information, Cole could hear the underlying tremor in Jodi’s voice. If she could transport herself there magically and wrap her arms around Jodi, she would do it in a heartbeat, but all she could do was wait, and that was almost as hard as the unknown.

  A search party had been mobilized and dispatched along with a remote area paramedic crew. Garry promised to keep in touch with Cole and she with him.

  “Jodi, love, you still there?”

  “Yeah. Still here.”

  Cole heard Jodi’s teeth chattering over the radio. “See if you’ve got a space blanket in your first aid kit.”

  Cole waited, but now that she was in contact with Jodi, the silence was just time and space. It didn’t hurt as much as the eon of emptiness of before.

  “Got it.”

  “Okay. Wrap yourself up in it. It’ll warm you up in a few minutes.”

  “I need to get back to Pip and Charlie.”

  “Sweetheart, you need to stay in the car so the search party can find you. Then you can lead them to the girls.”

  “They’re still out there…”

  “I know, but you’re the link. Just stay there, love.”

  “But I feel bad leaving them.”

  “You’re not leaving them. You’ll be bringing help to them. Just promise me you’ll stay there till help arrives. It won’t be long, love. They know where you are.”

  Jodi didn’t respond right away.

  “Jodi?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve done a great job. Help’s on its way.”

  “I have to go. Need to save the battery.”

  “All right. Just promise you’ll stay.” Cole fidgeted. She wanted to keep talking to Jodi but understood the need to conserve the car’s battery power. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “Okay. I’m looking at the clock. It’s nearly one in the morning. I’m going to call you every half hour. So sit back and get warmed up and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Love you.”

  Cole had to swallow past the lump in her throat at Jodi’s quiet statement. “I love you too, bub. Now rest. Talk to you soon.”

  “Bye.”

  Cole sat down heavily in the chair as relief weakened her knees. They were in trouble. Her instincts had been right, but she took no satisfaction in that. Her peace would come when she saw them all home safe. But they were a long way yet to that happening, with help still hours away.

  At first C
harlie thought she was still asleep because of the darkness, but she caught glimpses of lightning flashing in the distance, and she realized night had fallen. The travois bounced unevenly. She could just make out Pip mumbling. She tried to decipher what she was saying but Pip seemed largely incoherent to her.

  “Pip.”

  There was no break in Pip’s rambling to indicate she’d heard her. Charlie tried harder to project her voice. “Pip.”

  Pip stumbled and fell to her knees. She crawled a few steps before regaining her feet, swaying left and right. She stepped forward and tripped and fell back to the ground. She crawled a few paces and struggled to stand again. Her mumbling continued.

  “Dammit.” Charlie realized Pip was slipping into a hypoglycaemic episode and was rapidly becoming unresponsive. “Pip!” she yelled. It seemed to work. Pip stopped struggling to get up and sat heavily on the ground staring off into space, still mumbling.

  She was effectively immobile, and Pip lay just out of her reach. Charlie knew she had to get closer to her to make sure she didn’t wander off into the dark to end up who-only-knew where. She shivered. She was highly aware of how high up they were and how treacherous the Australian wilderness could be in the daytime, let alone in the middle of the night, in pitch dark, with diminished mental faculties.

  Pip got to her feet and drunkenly weaved several steps forward, straight into a tree. She dropped onto her bottom once again. Charlie knew she had to take the chance now or she ran the risk of losing Pip. She untied herself from the travois and dragged herself, commando style, on her stomach, digging her hands and elbows into the ground, pulling and heaving herself to where Pip was. She half rolled onto Pip to hinder any more movement and swallowed hard. She knew she couldn’t hold Pip if she decided she wanted to go. Looking around, there were very few options available to her, especially as she had rolled away from the travois and the ropes. There was only one obvious choice left, and it came with a risk. But Pip was declining rapidly, no longer aware of her surroundings. In order to give them both a chance, she had to act fast and try to keep them together. She unwrapped the top bandage along her thigh. She got to the end and removed it altogether. She wiggled her way down to Pip’s feet and tied one end around one ankle and then wrapped both feet and ankles together, continuing up to her mid-calves where she made a knot. She tied the loose end to her left wrist, effectively binding them together.