Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3

by Graham Wilson

  She drove on. The road was wide now, well formed, and almost dead straight. But after another quarter of an hour it ended suddenly in a T intersection. The new cross-road seemed to be an important road but less so than the one she was on. She had no idea which way to choose.

  For no reason in particular she decided to turn left. The road went on for a few hundred yards, and then, after some minor sidetracks coming off it, it deteriorated into a track. Susan followed this, living in hope it went somewhere; however, after another couple hundred yards, the road came to the edge of a vast open plain. There was no further road in sight, just a vast expanse of grass, which seemed to run out to a river some miles away.

  She felt profoundly depressed, but knew she had to back track. She came back to the T-junction. She tossed up whether to return to the main road or try the other direction. In the end her need to be thorough overrode her desire for the ease of the big highway. She followed the other track. She almost felt relief when, a few hundred yards later, it ended in another gate. This time there was a lock that she clearly would not get through.

  While part of her felt profoundly dejected to be stuck in this maze, another part of her felt that this was progress.

  Susan found a place to turn round and headed back. At the big gate on the main road she finally felt that this was the way out. So she drove on with renewed confidence. The road continued on, past a series of minor turn-offs, heading in a consistently straight direction.

  Susan just kept driving. She knew that, if she came to another dead end, she would want to cry, lie down and die. But it just kept going, seemingly on and on forever. She checked her distance, which she had checked along the way as she drove. She had come twenty-five kilometres since the last gate. That meant she had to be going somewhere. Still the road went on, further and further.

  Then there was a sign for an approaching T intersection. Susan slowed, almost to a crawl, as she reached what she thought was the intersection. Please God, let there be a sign. She felt rising desperation with nothing in sight. Then the road rounded a final bend. Gleaming in the headlights was a big shiny sign, pointing Darwin to the right and Kakadu to the left. It was a big wide bitumen road and the sign on it read Arnhem Highway.

  She nearly cried with relief. As the car headed along this new smooth road there was a big sign: Darwin, 135 kms. The tension flowed out of her, and a huge wave of relief washed over her. She knew she had as good as made it. Just another hour and a half or so of driving, then she would find a place to rest for a bit before she went to the airport to catch the plane home.

  The road was straight and easy to drive. She passed a lit up roadhouse called the Bark Hut Inn. She was tempted to stop, just to buy a drink, but knew she should not let anyone see her in this car around here. Then she crossed a big river with the sign Mary River written on the bridge, watching a large expanse of clear dark water pass below. There were no headlights in sight and no signs of any people nearby.

  Susan stopped, deciding that this river might make a good final resting place for the guns and other things. She stopped at the far edge of the bridge and looked around. Then she stood quietly and listened, just bush sounds. This will do, she thought.

  First she picked up the box that held tools. One by one she dropped them over the side and into the water. As she was carrying the last things headlights lit up the eastern horizon. She quickly dropped the tools over and ran back to the car. She hopped back in and started the engine, ready to drive away if the vehicle showed signs of stopping. But it just roared past and drove into the night. It was heading for Darwin, probably impatient to be home.

  Then she took out the gun case and false number plates. The gun case fell straight down like a spear, entering the water with a hollow splash. Next she flung the 6 remaining number plates in different directions. It was like casting the remnants of Mark’s identity to the four winds.

  Leaving the bridge behind, as she drove on, it felt like a first step towards removing this month from her life.

  She concentrated on driving steadily, not too fast or slow. She passed a couple cars going the other way. The first time she forgot to dip her lights, until a series of angry flashes made her aware. After this she drove with lights on low beam, it was easier than trying to remember, another thing for her tired brain to do.

  As Susan continued she started to feel like she was almost back to civilisation. As her anxiety faded the fatigue really began to hit her. She found herself yawning, what she really needed was a really strong cup of coffee. She pinched her face, she moved her shoulders and jiggled her legs; anything to keep brain and body awake. She saw lights in the distance and then she was in a little town, with a sign that proclaimed Humpty Doo. She forced herself on.

  Reaching another big T intersection, this time with traffic lights and a sign for Stuart Highway and Darwin to the right, Susan let out a breath of relief—she actually knew where she was. Susan knew that the Stuart Highway was the main road from Alice Springs to Darwin. With Darwin barely thirty kilometres away, she decided that she would drive for a little longer and then find a place to pull over and rest.

  Even though it felt to her like the middle of the night, the clock on the dash only read 9:30 pm.

  Soon she saw a big sign for a roadhouse and supermarket coming up on her side. She pulled into the supermarket car park. There were still occasional shoppers—perhaps it stayed open until late.

  She looked at her face in the mirror. Considering what she felt like inside, her face looked remarkably normal, a bit puffy under the eyes and her hair was a bit wild. She groped in her bag and found a comb, straightened her hair and checked her clothes for obvious marks. She took a last glance around—no one was close. Susan stepped out, careful to make sure she appeared casual.

  As she approached the doors they automatically slid apart. She stepped into an incredibly bright and modern, fluorescent lit world. The air-conditioning was unexpectedly cold and she shivered.

  No one seemed the least interested in her. She knew she had about eighty-five dollars in her purse. That would be enough to buy some food, drink, some cleaning gear, and, maybe, some new clothes.

  She picked up a basket and worked her way around. A block of cheese, some dip and biscuits along with a bottle of Coke. Next she collected a plastic bucket, detergent, methylated spirits, cleaning cloths, disposable household gloves and a packet of garbage bags. She also bought two cheap sets of clothes consisting of a tracksuit, T-shirt and socks.

  There was a map of Darwin for sale. She opened it, memorised the directions to the airport and put it back. It seemed fairly simple and she expected there would be signs.

  She paid, returned to the car and drove on. Another few miles and she saw a rest stop and toilet sign on the left. That was what she was looking for. The only other occupants of the rest area were a couple of large trucks; there was no sign of their drivers—probably asleep in the cabins.

  After washing her face Susan sat at a little table outside with her cheese, dip, cracker biscuits and Coke. It was the first real food she had eaten in almost twenty-four hours. While part of her craved food, there was also nausea just below the surface. She knew she must go steadily. She ate slowly, one biscuit at a time, with a smear of dip and a piece of cheese, chewing each with steady deliberation, and following each with a mouthful of Coke. A couple times her stomach threatened to rebel as nausea rose. But she calmed herself with deep breaths.

  After she had had her fill, Susan climbed back into the car, pulled the new tracksuit over her other clothes and curled up on the seat. What blessed relief to close her eyes and let it all go.

  When she woke up the cabin clock read 3:13 am.

  Time to get active again, she thought. Susan opened the cabin and shivered in the chill air. Reluctantly she removed her new clothes, so she was back to her old T-shirt and shorts. She took out her overnight bag from the cabin and placed it, with her food and cleaning things, on the nearby table.

  Susan set
to work. She started with a bucket of water and detergent, and washed every inside surface of the cabin. Then she climbed on the back and did the same for the cooler box, washing it first, then wiping off the excess with a second cloth. Next she swabbed all the surfaces with a cloth covered with methylated spirits. Then she did the same for the rest of the tray. Finally she washed the rest of the outside body of the cabin as best she could. Without a high-pressure spray she could not really do the under-body, but she didn’t think it was very important.

  She surveyed her work; she thought it was enough. There was little chance of anyone recovering her DNA, should someone check the vehicle. It seemed important to her that there be no trace of her left in the car

  She took her remaining clothes and divided them into two sets. One set, including the clothes she had slept in, went into her small overnight bag, along with her passport, ticket and her other personal effects. She left one pair of sandals on the back tray. She put her overnight bag and its contents inside a garbage bag; this was what she needed for the return leg on the plane. She double bagged it, and rested it on the back tray.

  In a second bag she placed the rest of the cleaning gear, which she also sat on the tray. Then she washed herself off again, pulled off her clothes from before, and put them along with her other discarded clothes in another garbage bag. She tied this up and put it into a garbage bin nearby.

  Susan was naked in the dark. She quickly dressed in the final set of new clothes using disposable gloves. When she was dressed, she put new disposable gloves on her hands and walked over to the car. She laid a garbage bag on the floor and sat inside, careful not to touch anything else. She slid her feet into her new socks.

  Then she started the car and drove away, following the signs for the airport. It was just after five am when she drove in to the airport concourse. There were a few people around, early morning cleaners and the like. She drove past the car park and looked in at it.

  Should she park in there? Probably not, it was too likely to have CCTV to capture her image as she exited the car. She wanted no direct link between the car and her.

  She had noted that the airport was only a kilometre or two from the main road, and on the other side of this road were housing estates. Susan figured that, if she parked on a street in front of one of these, it was unlikely that anyone would notice a common four wheel drive. It would probably be weeks before any one wondered whose car it was and investigated.

  So she drove back out and parked on the side of the service road opposite some two-storey houses. There was not a soul in sight as she climbed out.

  First she put on her sandals and lifted the other things off the tray. Then she gave the parts of the cabin she had used, and the back tray where her things had rested a final wipe. She locked the doors.

  She opened the garbage bag that held her overnight bag, removed it from inside and sat it on the pavement. She put all the cleaning gear and other unwanted objects back in its own garbage bag. With this garbage bag in one hand, the overnight bag in the other and the car keys in her pocket, Susan walked towards the airport, following alongside the cycleway, walking on the footpath.

  She passed a bin at a bus stop and threw the garbage bag of cleaning things inside. She turned onto the airport access road. A few hundred yards along this road she crossed a creek. The car keys went in there.

  She could feel dawn approaching, though there was not yet any light in the sky. Her spirits lifted, it was a new day and her ordeal was almost all over. Her freedom, back to her beloved England, was close at hand. She noticed that her speed had picked up and her step had become jaunty. Susan consciously pulled herself back to a more regular walk. Don’t get too cocky now; there are only a few more steps to go.

  Her flight was due to depart at ten am. It was only five past six now, at least according to the massive clock inside the terminal. She was perhaps a bit early, but at least she had time for a shower and breakfast before she needed to check in.

  Susan headed straight for the shower sign. She luxuriated in the hot water and steam for a good ten minutes; she was determined to wash every trace of the outback from her body, washing it out of her soul might not be quite so easy, but she would try. Breakfast was a bacon and egg muffin and coffee. She bought a magazine from a newsagent, wanting something to occupy her.

  The lady at the check-in counter raised a snooty eyebrow when Susan declared she only had carry on luggage. But Susan wasn’t concerned; it was her own business. She felt a twinge of anxiety as she passed through airport security, particularly about the little pouch of stones. But there was nothing in her bag that brought attention. Then she went on through passport checking and stamping. As she opened her passport for checking a slip of folded paper fell out and on to the floor. “You dropped this,” the man behind her said helpfully, passing her the paper.

  “Cheers,” said Susan accepting it from his hand. She didn’t recognise it, but she placed it in her ticket wallet; she could check it later.

  Then she was through and sitting in the departure lounge.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Susan tried to read her magazine, but beautiful girls in beautiful clothes weren’t a good enough distraction. She tried to relax and pretend she was enjoying herself, but she was wound up like a spring. She kept expecting someone to call her name out.

  When boarding was called, Susan didn’t rush. Inside the plane a pretty stewardess, with long blond hair, directed her away from the entry door. A second stewardess, part way down her aisle, was directing passengers with a broad Cockney twang. Susan was comforted by the voice.

  Susan said hello to the woman, who recognised her as English for she turned to Susan with a bright smile, “I hope you enjoyed your visit to Australia.”

  Susan forced a return smile; she could not quite bring herself to nod.

  At last the plane was taxiing out and soaring up into the sky. As it levelled out Susan realised she was still clutching her English passport. She went to put it away and it flipped open to where it had just been stamped, Australian Visitor Visa - Departure.

  That’s it she thought. That was what I was doing, just visiting.

  Chapter 24 – Devil Spawn – one month later

  Susan found that returning to work was relatively easy; it was almost as if she had never been away. Some people hadn’t even noticed her absence and this suited her.

  She was still staying with her Mum and Dad, though getting her own place was high on her list of priorities. What had happened in Australia had a surreal quality, as though it had happened to another person, while the real Susan had stayed and worked away in England.

  A week after she returned a letter, postmarked Australia, with David’s name and address on the back, had arrived. She put it aside, unopened.

  She and Anne were still good friends, though she felt their relationship had suffered from the little she said about Australia, particularly about her text message. She gave a half-baked and disinterested story, explaining it away as mere curiosity about something she read in an old paper while travelling. Perhaps Anne believed her, perhaps not, but it just slid away. She told her little bits about the things she did in Sydney and Melbourne and this seemed to satisfy Anne’s need for an Australian story.

  Susan was never highly regular with her periods, and she remembered having one in Sydney. Susan had started to expect one a couple weeks after she got back.

  During all her time with Mark, after that first day in the sea, they had almost forgotten about contraception, the passion and ferocity of their lovemaking had been all-consuming.

  She had half thought of it in Sydney, when her period came. Then it was with a mild sense of relief as she said to herself, “Well I am clearly not pregnant.” But it had never led to any active planning by her when they met again. If the issue had been considered by Mark it was never raised.

  After she was back for three weeks she had a definite feeling of unease, but thought, “Oh well, I am often a bit late,” however he
r work was busy so it was pushed aside. Then, one Saturday morning, still in bed, and realising she was back for four weeks, it jumped to the top of her mind. It was now over six weeks since her last period. This was really abnormal. Her mind screamed out, It just can’t be true; a mixture of growing panic and disbelief at this possibility, her with his child inside.

  She looked in the mirror at her naked body, why had she not noticed before? It seemed like her breasts and nipples were starting to change, breasts softening, nipples enlarging and changing colour. At that point she knew what her mind was refusing to believe.

  It was true. She was infected with the Devil’s Spawn. She was carrying Mark’s child.

  This horror movie refused to end, and she was trapped inside it. She had tried to excise it from her mind. Now it possessed her body instead.

  The Diary

  Crocodile Spirit Dreaming – Book 2

  Novel by

  Graham Wilson

  Copyright

  The Diary

  Graham Wilson

  Copyright Graham Wilson 2014

  BeyondBeyond Books Edition

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to the various people who have reviewed and commented on the book since the initial version has been published. These comments have been valuable in making it better. It is gratifying to hear of the enjoyment people gain from reading this book and the prior book in the series “Just Visiting.”

  Particular thanks to my long standing friend Karyn who has proof read and copy edited this book, which has greatly improved it.

  1 – The Consequence

  Susan looked at the pregnancy test kit with dismay. She had known in her heart what the result would be. But now she stared at the double line, the second line just as clear as the first control line, meaning she really was pregnant and she knew with certainty it was real. So that was it, there was no more clinging to a false hope that it might be her imagination. She knew the test kits were over 99% accurate, and that was not even accounting for the other signs in her body which said the same thing.