Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3

by Graham Wilson

  He had this deep, abiding love of crocodiles, a fascination with watching them kill things.

  Susan shuddered

  It all made sense; he would take her to that place where he knew of an enormous crocodile, somewhere on the Mary River, out near Kakadu. Her body would go into the belly of this crocodile and she would disappear.

  None of her family or friends knew where she had gone. She had told her cousins in Sydney she was en route to Alice Springs. But she had misled them about her plans from there. She had indicated she was bussing on, no mention of meeting anyone. So, if she failed to turn up for her return flight home it wouldn’t be clear for a while that she had really vanished. Just as likely that she had gone another way, met someone and travelled to another destination.

  Her parents might not believe it, but many others would. She had broken up with her former boyfriend and come to Australia for a change. It was common for people like her; people with memories to run from, to drop out for a few months then reappear.

  Even if they investigated and discovered her travel in the outback with a man, they would also discover her affair with David. So people would say she was having a series of liaisons as she travelled across Australia. David, Mark, then whoever came next.

  Mark could simply say that she left him for the next one, that she went off with yet another man. Why would anyone really doubt that. They had been affectionate together, but relationships between travellers come and go, like the people themselves.

  There were so many missing people and, without evidence to lead the way, the police could only investigate a handful.

  She thought about where she had been with Mark and how averse he was to public places, like airports with security cameras, and town centres, he had barely been to any of these. Sure he had met her in the Alice Springs Mall, but then he was wearing cowboy clothes with a big Akubra, which he had never worn since, and with the hat pulled down there was little view of his face. Not to mention that his car was out the back of the car park where CCTV was unlikely.

  Then at Yulara, while they had checked in together, she had stood well behind him and not interacted with any of the hotel staff—her mind had been on getting to their bedroom. Was it even clear she was with him? He hadn’t acknowledged her presence; he had pre-booked with a voucher, and who knows what name he had given. Once she had gone to the room she barely came out. Sure they had breakfast together, downstairs, but it was crowded with tourists and they were unlikely to be recorded or remembered.

  The best chances to connect her with Mark were the handful of station people and miners who had seen them together, but few were likely to read the newspapers in town, and television watching seemed a rarity. So, even if her photo made it to the TV news or newspapers, it seemed unlikely that anyone would realise and connect her to Mark, particularly if months had elapsed.

  She thought of her phone; that was something to cause him concern. She had some hopes of a connection there. It tied her to both Timber Creek and Borroloola and there were good odds that someone would remember them together in one of these places.

  She wondered if he had become careless with her, it seemed like Mark had been more careful with his other victims, making sure to leave no clues. Susan wondered if that meant something about their relationship was different. Maybe he was overconfident. It seemed that there was a slim chance he could be connected to her, but it was far from certain.

  That’s why her body needed to disappear, and it was also why it couldn’t happen near here. So, somewhere like Mary River made sense—provided they arrived there at night, without being seen.

  Susan thought it also meant that he would need to avoid major towns, like Katherine, where the chances of his movements being tracked were much greater. So they would go by back roads.

  It also meant that, once they got there they would not stay long, as he would not want to be sighted there.

  No doubt the next night he would be across in Western Australia with a plausible story about how he had left her to catch a bus, and then gone the other way. No one had seen anything bad happen between them, everyone would say they got on well together, if he said he dropped her off to catch a bus, who would doubt it? As no-one knew her plans no-one would know where she had gone, just another missing person, gone to ground somewhere in Australia, so many places, cities, and states to choose from. She realised her mind was wandering and this endless speculation about how she might be traced would not get her anywhere. It was all about after the event and would be of no use to her by then.

  She must turn her mind into more productive directions, think of what she could do in the here and now, how she could find a way to get away.

  An hour had passed; she was getting really hot and thirsty. Sweat trickled down her face. Susan wished she had taken a drink before checking her phone.

  Before she could think on it anymore Mark was back. He had silently appeared at by door. Now he was unlocking it.

  He looked at her first with what appeared to be a combination of tenderness, sadness and confusion. Then that faded to a blank stare. The anger was no longer visible, but Susan almost wished that was still there instead of the detached coldness he now had. He seemed almost regretful, like he would have preferred not to harm her, but now that it had come to this, he would do whatever was needed without second thoughts or remorse. The ability to put emotion aside was what made him most frightening.

  He was speaking to her. It took a few seconds for her to realise, so locked was she in her own thoughts.

  “I am going to take your gag off, provided you don’t start screaming. There’s no one to hear, but it will go straight back on if you do. Do you agree?”

  She nodded, her eyes fastened firmly to the floor, she could not meet his gaze, because within any connection there was only madness. Susan needed to keep her mind locked away from his ability to harm, in order to stay calm.

  He pulled the tape off her mouth. He wasn’t gentle. There was no kindness in how he touched her. Maybe he too needed to put distance between them.

  She decided, she must try and stay calm, not ask for information, not beg, not become dramatic or desperate. It was her calm after all, that had saved her from his fist earlier.

  Without the gag her breathing was better. She felt less cut off. She experimentally moved her mouth around now that it was free. Her lip stung but otherwise it seemed to work fine. She asked, “Are you still angry with me?”

  He grunted, he did not seem to know what to say or perhaps he chose not to answer.

  Then she decided to try something more specific. “Could I have a drink please?” Susan asked politely, as if there was nothing unusual about her situation.

  Mark nodded gruffly and turned away. He returned with a pannikin of water. She realised he would have to hold it while she drank. This was difficult, and the water slopped down her front.

  “It would be easier if you released my hands for a bit, or locked them in front,” she said. Mark pulled a key from his pocket, reached behind her and unlocked one cuff. When she moved her hands to the front he relocked them in place. Susan took the cup, and finished the water then handed it back.

  Without another word Mark shut her door, got into his side of the car and began driving. After half an hour they crossed a big river following a road crossing that went through a couple feet of water. It must be the Victoria River, she reasoned.

  He had a map open on the seat between them. It seemed as if this route wasn’t familiar to him and he occasionally gave it a glance. Surreptitiously Susan began to look too.

  There were few roads marked in this country, so now, by a process of deduction, she began to guess out where they must go. Once she worked this out she started to follow the topography on the maps, where the hills were, where they crossed big creeks and rivers. She could also see the trip meter so that helped her gauge how far they had gone.

  She realised they would have to come along station roads and through a no man’s land, going we
st, then northwest of Katherine, in order to avoid the town. She could see a way through, and there were some alternatives. It looked like a long, slow drive.

  There seemed little point in Susan trying to escape in the middle of nowhere. She noticed that the road, the one that she guessed they were heading for, crossed the Daly River near Pine Creek. It looked like a water-crossing not a bridge, perhaps a causeway. She remembered that the Daly River was famous for barramundi fishing. Maybe, at this crossing, there would be tourists or fishermen? From where they were now it looked to be about three hundred kilometres to reach it. She figured it would be late afternoon by then.

  A plan was forming. She needed to behave as normally as possible, try to lower his suspicion. Then, if she saw anyone as they came onto the river crossing, she would open her door and fling herself out, onto the crossing or into the water. Her door wasn’t locked now, and her hands were to her front, so that meant she could quickly work the door latch. Even if the water was deep she should be able to swim, after a fashion, and get to the side.

  But, more importantly, she would be able to shout for help, as her mouth was not covered. It was hard to see that Mark would harm her in front of other people. If there were no chances there then the next opportunity would be Pine Creek. As it was a proper town she did not think he would chance reaching there it until dark. Still, perhaps if he drove down the main street, she could fling herself out there and be seen.

  The afternoon passed slowly. They traversed miles and miles of bush roads. Mostly she could follow where they were on the maps, using a combination of distances and features. They made occasional river-crossings. A couple vehicles passed by them in a cloud of dust, going in the opposite direction. Each time Mark accelerated and passed them with speed, so she realised that even if she shouted, she wouldn’t be heard.

  They stopped only once; a toilet break he said. He released the bonds on her hands, but her legs remained tied. She shuffled away and relieved herself. As she returned Mark passed her a cup of water. She gulped it down and he gave her another. She drank all that too, then she said, “Thank you.”

  Mark nodded; a minimal acknowledgement. Then she presented him with her hands to be cuffed again. He seemed surprised by this; she suspected he would have left this undone. But it was important to her plan that he thought her well restrained, so he would be less attentive. It would be the only way of getting away, should a chance come.

  They came to the bank of a big river. Based on time and features it must be the Daly. The light was fading, but it was not yet dark. She could not see right down to the river, but she could make out well-used camping sites.

  Mark parked. He walked to the top of the bank where the road fell away, glancing back behind him to keep an eye on her. He seemed relieved to note that Susan just sat there, unmoving. Mark surveyed the river, assessing if it was safe to cross. After five minutes or so he returned to the car. But, instead of proceeding across, he drove off-road and went up the riverbank a few hundred yards. There they sat and waited until the darkness was complete.

  Now they returned and crossed over, no one was in sight. Susan could have cried in frustration.

  Desperation and fear grew inside her. Soon she saw the lights of a town, Pine Creek. But they passed by it without stopping. They never slowed, and there were no signs of any other human life around.

  Just as Susan had started to think it was hopeless, she realised Mark was slowing, and pulling over to the road verge. There was a noise of flapping from a wheel. She realised it was a flat tyre. She thought they had only come a couple miles from the town.

  Now that he was distracted she felt she had a chance.

  Mark was undoing the spare tyre, his attention focused on it. She saw headlights coming over the horizon, a vehicle was approaching. It crested the rise and came down their side; lights blazing forward were all she could make out.

  She used the lights and noise of its approach as a distraction. She pushed open the door and jumped out, like a kangaroo she hopped to the middle of the road.

  Suddenly she realised this was no car, but a huge road train bearing down on her. It was only one hundred yards away and it showed no signs of braking. She realised that it had not even seen her; she must get off the road. Mark seemed unaware.

  She tried to hop, but in her need for speed her balance was gone. She pitched forward onto the tar road, just managing to get hands in front of her, to protect her face. She tried to lift herself and crawl but knew there was no time. Now the truck driver had seen her and the brakes were screaming, but she knew it was too late.

  Mark’s attention was suddenly on her. He moved fast, scooped her up and lifted her aside; then the truck was upon them. As it passed by Mark waved and gave a thumbs up, the truckie waved back and powered on.

  Mark was furious, “You stupid bitch! Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  She sat on the road edge where he dropped her and cried: tears of rage, tears of frustration.

  “You miserable bastard, why would you care? By tomorrow it won’t matter whether I am alive or dead with what you’re planning. I’d rather let the truck hit me than be your captive.”

  Mark looked at her with a frustrated rage First he said nothing, just shook his head, then he said. “You do my head in; you think I’m crazy—well I’ve got nothing on you.”

  He picked her up and threw her on the back tray. He climbed up and opened the cooler door, bent in and removed the few items inside. It was almost empty, just a small Esky holding a bag of ice and a couple bits of food, pushed into the corner of the big cooler. It wasn’t even cold.

  “You won’t suffocate in here; there are some air holes in the top.” Then he lifted her again and tipped her head first into the space. A minute later he threw in a pillow and blanket. He slammed the door closed. She heard him click a lock.

  In five minutes the she felt the car start and spin round, going back the way it had come. It drove along a smooth road for a minute then she felt it slow and turn. Now they were driving on a rough dirt road to God-knows-where.

  Chapter 19 – The Last Night – Night 28

  The bouncing went on and on. At first Susan tried to brace against it, and protect herself from being thrown around. But it was impossible; the car was being driven fast and recklessly. It braked late into corners; it bounced over holes or rocks; swerved roughly around apparent objects. She supposed she should be grateful for the pillow and blanket he had thrown in, as an apparent afterthought; they at least softened a few bumps

  With her hands cuffed in her lap she had only her legs to hold and manoeuvre with. And as they were tied even that was difficult. Her bare feet could get no grip on the smooth fibreglass. She tried to sit up; the roof was a few inches above her sitting head. But the box was too wide to rest her feet on the other side and she would find herself slowly sliding back down.

  Then she managed to turn to sit sideways, using her knees and bottom to brace. But a big bump flung her against the roof, bashing her head, and causing her to bite her inside lip. She tasted blood. Then a second big swerve and bump slid her along and bashed her into the far end.

  So she lay on her side, on the floor, and just let herself be flung with the movements. Her head hurt where it had hit the roof, her face hurt where he had hit her, her lip stung, her hands throbbed from being banged against things and her wrists pained where the cuffs caught at and chafed the skin. Her whole body ached from being twisted and flung around, along with being forced into unnatural places and spaces. It all seemed hopeless.

  For a while she let the misery overwhelm her. She cried, almost silently, though she could hear her occasional gulping sobs. Then she lay in a mute and numb state for long time, seeking to remove herself from this time and place. Her mind went off to other places, her safe family and friends, her cousins in Sydney, other people she had met.

  How could it have come to this? How did she end up the next victim of a cold and calculating psychopath?

 
Terror twisted her insides; Mark had killed four girls, what was one more? Any feigned softness was just his psychopath’s ploy to disarm his victims.

  She hated the darkness inside this box, around her. It was utterly pitch black; she couldn’t even see her hands in front of her face. Susan wished she had something, anything, to look at, something to help push away the creeping dread that kept rising in her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

  She feared the loss of her sanity. If she let the terror take over she would just be a crazy blathering idiot, fit only for a lunatic asylum.

  A deep and burning hatred rose inside her. She thought of Mark, of his friends that seemed to like him—they mustn’t have any idea who he really was. He charmed the girls too, but it was smooth charm outside, callous and rotten inside, like an apple full of worms.

  But Susan was not dead yet, and she was determined not to die as a passive victim, not make it easy for Mark. Her anger helped focus her mind and push away the pain. She may be lying in the dark but her mind was alight, teasing at the edges of possibilities, openings she might influence, ways to survive, and hopefully stop Mark from ever doing this again. If she wasn’t destined to live through this, she hoped to at least finish Mark off too. Susan swore to herself that she would be the last.

  Could she find some poison and put it in his food?

  Was there some way she could make the car crash? Ideally on a public road where a rescue would be called for? Susan sensed that he wanted her body to go to the crocodiles; he gained perverse pleasure in feeding those monsters; mindless, remorseless consumers of flesh. It had not bothered him in the least to watch the crocodile grab the squealing pig yesterday and drag it into the water.

  She had watched, both enthralled and revolted; but Mark seemed only to gain sadistic pleasure in letting such violent nature take its course.

  If he tried to throw her in perhaps she could pull him in too. There was even a chance the crocodile would prefer him to her—a long shot, but she would think on it.