Dead Dry Heart_A psychological thriller

by Toni Pike

  “What sort of snake is that on your arm?” I asked.

  “A western brown snake, in honour of the time I was bitten. Cranky bastards they are, I was trying to catch it and he turned on me, chased me fifty metres down the road, as fast as a racehorse and thrashing around like a whip. He won the contest and bit me on the ankle. I was in hospital for a week. Lucky to be alive, they said.”

  “But doesn’t that scare you, to see him every day on your arm – don’t you want to forget that bad time?’

  “Oh no, I love snakes. Do you like them?”

  “I think so, I’m not sure,” I replied. That was a lie, because in fact my attitude to snakes could best be described as a sort of phobic loathing and horror. Whenever we saw a snake my father always made me walk very close to it while he laughed loudly.

  “Here, you can play with my collection of rubber snakes. I always take a few with me on the road, wherever I go.” He handed me an old shoebox. “That’s not my entire collection. Most of them are at home, in Perth. “I have a few live snakes, too. My friend next door takes care of them while I’m away. My wife doesn’t like them.”

  “Are there real snakes in here?” I asked, desperately hoping that Dave Vidovich wasn’t a maniac on the loose, an escapee from a lunatic asylum who had stolen a truck.

  “No, they’re just toys. I collect them in tourist shops and toyshops, sometimes petrol stations – whenever I see one for sale. Some of them look almost real. It’s good to collect something, it gives me an interest.”

  I peeled off the rubber bands and lifted the lid of the box. Dozens of rubber snakes were packed so tightly that they kicked back and recoiled as the pressure was released. I shut it again and put it on the floor. “They’re interesting but I’m feeling tired,” I said, leaning my head against the door.

  “No wonder, after what you’ve been through. I hope I didn’t scare you with my snakes.”

  “No, not at all,” I lied.

  “Just try to rest. There’s only about eighty more kilometres. Don’t worry, Tyler, we’ll get you to a hospital, not that there’s exactly a hospital in Quarry, but there’s a doctor or something. They’ll check if you’re okay. What happened out there?”

  Now was the time to tell my story. “We went off-road in our van and drove into the desert but then we ran out of petrol. My parents told me to stay with the van and went to look for help days ago, but they never came back. So then I went to see if I could find someone.”

  I spoke too quickly and sounded too much as if the speech has been rehearsed over and over like an actor learning their lines. Joshua told me to vary the words each time, but always to tell the same story and not contradict myself.

  Dave’s eyes widened as he glanced at me and he pulled a face as if he might not believe me. “You’re lucky you found the road,” he said. “There are so many dangers and you can easily die of thirst – you should always stay with your vehicle, you know. The police will search for your parents, Tyler. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll find them.”

  Beads of sweat moistened my forehead. Perhaps he was right, and the police would search until they found my parents’ buried in the ground. “Are there bad people out here?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, there could be, but you’re safe with me.”

  Dave stretched out his arm so that his hand touched the rifle. I looked down, pretending not to notice. But then he grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and looked ahead at the road.

  I closed my eyes but my plan was to stay wide awake, just in case of trouble. Instead of that, the physical exhaustion and madness had drained me so much that a moment later I lapsed into a deep sleep.

  The nightmare began a few minutes later. Everything was in darkness except for a single beam of light shining on my father’s face. He stared at me in stark black and white, eyes wide with anger. “I want to talk to you, Tyler, I’m pissed off with you,” he said repeatedly. Then his face appeared right next to me as if it was framed in the open window and his stiff, dead arm reached into the cabin to grab the rifle.

  A voice interrupted my dreams. “We’re getting close to Quarry now, Tyler, you can wake up.”

  My eyes opened, my racing heart slowed down and I remembered that my father was dead. That made me feel much safer.

  ***

  We drove past a massive sign: Welcome to Quarry, the best little town in Australia. Population 1,550.

  Those words sounded so comforting. I sat up straight and stared out the window, keen to see my first glimpse of the town. If this really was the best town in Australia, that would mean it might be one of the best in the world.

  “I really like Quarry,” said Dave Vidovich. “The Royal Hotel does a fantastic steak and the service station has the best mechanic you’ll find anywhere. Gary and his two sons once worked through the night to repair my truck when it broke down near here.”

  We passed a little stone church that looked very old. Although it was in the desert, there was a neat little garden around it and a tiny graveyard at the back. Five hundred metres further on, we reached the edge of town and the truck slowed to a glacial pace.

  Wide-eyed, I noticed every detail. On one side of the road was a small park with some struggling grass, several trees, park benches and a white gazebo. Next to that was the dirt oval, where some children were playing cricket.

  All the buildings were on the other side of the road. The streets were laid out in a grid pattern, ten streets cutting through the red earth. The houses were small timber bungalows with carefully tended desert gardens. The first building in the main street was the service station. Beyond that were the stores: a pharmacist, a small supermarket and a newsagency with a post office. Then there was the Royal Hotel, which was the grandest building in town, and a small motel. The Medical Centre had a hospital sign out the front. It was a modern prefabricated structure, square with a flat roof. The Quarry Public School was at the end of the main street, four quaint timber buildings set in a playground shaded by palm trees and enclosed by a wrought iron fence. There was a small public swimming pool behind that.

  Just beyond the edge of town, I didn’t notice the red brick building until Dave stopped his truck in the street outside. There were three police cars lined up under a carport, and the sign on the front wall confirmed my worst fears.

  Quarry Police Station – open 24 hours.

  “Here we are,” said Dave with a smile. “I used my CB radio while you were asleep, they’re expecting us.”

  My breathing rate began to rise. A policeman marched out to greet us, then led us inside past the reception desk and small waiting area. The air conditioning blasted me with fresh, cool air. “I’m Sergeant Barry Elliot, in charge of this station,” he said, and I noticed that he had green eyes and looked about the same age as my father and Joshua.

  “I’m Tyler Thompson,” I replied with a tight voice. He ushered me into his office and gave me the most comfortable chair.

  “I brought Tyler straight here,” said Dave. “He said his parents are missing. I got the shock of my life – I’ve never had anything like this happen to me before.”

  “Dave, why don’t you get a cup of tea in our lunch room? Have a rest, you deserve it. You’ve done a great job.”

  When Dave left the room, Sergeant Elliot sat opposite me. “We’re going to take you to the medical centre very soon,” he said. A policewoman walked in and sat next to me. She was very tall, with blue eyes and sandy hair tied in a tight bun. “This is Constable Penny Higgins. You can call her Penny and she’ll help to look after you while you’re here.”

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked. I’d never had a cup of tea before, but I nodded in agreement just to make her happy. “How would you like it? Milk and two sugars?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Barry Elliot smiled at me for a full five minutes while we waited. There was an internal window into a corridor and I could see a row of three cells with solid doors. “Do you put prisoners in there?�
� I asked.

  “Yes, for a few days, until they can be moved to the city. By the way, you can call us Barry and Penny.”

  “Okay, thanks,” I said. A knot tightened in my stomach. If Barry found out the truth, he would throw me into one of those cells. That’s where I belonged, not sitting in an office in a comfortable chair.

  Penny walked in with tea and cookies. The two of them were treating me like a child in desperate need of help. I sipped the tea and tried to eat a cookie but my appetite had vanished.

  “Dave told us where he picked you up, Tyler,” said Barry. Can you tell me your parents’ names?”

  “Peter and Kylie Thompson,” I replied.

  “Was there anyone else with you?”

  “No one else. I’m their only child and we were doing a trip around Australia.”

  “How long have you been on the road?”

  “A few years, three or four.”

  Penny shook her head and gave me a sympathetic look. “Wow, that’s a long time,” she said. “What about school?”

  “My parents taught me.”

  “So what happened to your parents?”

  I gulped and tried to look innocent. “Dad drove into the desert, and then I think we ran out of petrol. Mum and Dad told me stay with the vehicle, and they went to look for help. But it was days and they never came back – so I just started to walk.”

  “You poor boy, Tyler,” said Penny. There were tears in her eyes, as if she believed me.

  I continued my story. “I found the road and when I saw Dave’s truck I ran over and tried to flag it down.”

  “That’s very clever of you,” said Barry. “I have a feeling you’re a very smart young man. We’re setting up a major search operation to look for your parents, with dozens of police officers and State Emergency Service volunteers. We hope to get underway first thing in the morning.”

  “We just need your help,” said Penny. “What did your parents look like and do you remember what they were wearing?”

  They wanted a description. Their only photograph was buried with them, so I probably wouldn’t be found out if I stretched the truth. That would help make sure that my parents were never found. I could hear my mother’s voice whispering in my ear. Don’t be a lying little wretch, Tyler.

  “My father’s tall and fat with red hair,” I said. “He was wearing blue jeans and a red checked shirt. My mother’s tall, too, she’s quite fat as well and has short dark hair.” I tried to commit that to memory in case they asked me again.

  “Do you know what she was wearing?”

  “I think she was wearing a white shirt and dark jeans. Sort of black.”

  I felt a terrible pang of guilt, knowing that the police would be wasting their time in the desert heat, searching day and night for two people who didn’t look like my parents. Two people they would never find.

  Penny Higgins put her arm around me. “You’ve done so well,” she said. “We’re going to see the doctor now. He’ll make sure you’re okay.” Tears welled in my eyes and I wiped them away.

  She drove me to the Quarry Medical Centre in a police car although it was barely a hundred metres away. I sat in the front seat and she smiled at me as if I was a dear, sweet, innocent boy, the victim of terrible circumstances. I was glad that she didn’t know the truth.

  Penny held my hand as we walked inside. A nurse led me into a room and helped me to wash. “My name’s Andrea,” she said. It was the first time I could remember seeing a nurse and I was impressed.

  The doctor, Mike, was very old with grey hair and a moustache. Andrea stayed with me but she pulled strange faces when they saw my body.

  The doctor spoke to her almost as if I wasn’t there. “These marks, they look like cigarette burns.” She nodded in reply and took my hand. He brought his face close to mine and looked into my eyes. “Did your parents do this to you?”

  “I’m okay, I’m used to it.”

  He held his jaw firm. “You shouldn’t have to put up with this. We’re going to make sure this never happens again.”

  ***

  I spent the night at the medical centre, and early the next morning Constable Penny Higgins came to see me. “You’re looking much better, Tyler,” she said as she sat on the chair next to me. “There are more than a hundred police and volunteers here now, and they’re heading off to search for your parents.”

  “That’s great,” I replied, trying to hide my feelings of guilt.

  “I know that your life has been difficult, but you’re safe now and I have some good news for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  There’s a very nice couple in town who are going to look after you for a while. Jane and Kevin Carmichael who own the Quarry Motel.”

  “I saw that when we drove in,” I said.

  They’re a brother and sister. They’ve taken care of a few young people for us in the past. They’ll be here soon to take you back to their place. Is that all right with you?”

  “I think so,” I replied, but then had a better idea. “Could I stay with you instead?”

  She gave me a coy smile. “Tyler, I have to go to work, and sometimes I have to travel and be away for days at a time. The Carmichaels are very kind and no one will ever hurt you again.”

  “How long will I stay there?”

  “I’m not sure yet. We need to take one day at a time. Could you promise me something?

  “Yes, of course I will.”

  “Promise me that you’ll only think about each day as you come to it and just remember one thing - you’re going to be safe.”

  I thought that sounded like good advice. “I promise,” I said.

  “Now take a look out the window.”

  I felt frozen in horror at the sight. There was a major operation underway, with half a dozen buses disgorging dozens of policemen, and State Emergency Service volunteers who were dressed in orange overalls. Everyone had sunhats, backpacks and other gear to help them cope with a day in the outback.

  My stomach churned, knowing that all those people would waste days or weeks searching for two people who were already dead. I wanted to tell Penny the truth and put an end to it all, tell her that I knew exactly where my parents were located. Perhaps she could help and stop them sending me to jail.

  But I kept my secret, and a few minutes later something happened that changed everything.

  Jane and Kevin Carmichael walked into my room and smiled at me.

  Jane was short and round, with grey hair in tight curls. “Hello, Tyler. I’m Jane and this is my brother Kevin. We’re going to look after you for a while, if that’s okay with you.”

  “It sure is,” I replied.

  Kevin was short, plain and quiet, with wispy hair and a big chin. “We own the Quarry Motel. You might have driven past it when you arrived.”

  “Yes, I saw it. I’ve never been in a motel.”

  “You’ll soon get used to it.”

  They sat down and told me about themselves. They were born and raised in Quarry, but moved to Geraldton when they grew up to search for excitement and romance. Jane worked as a doctor’s receptionist and Kevin was a forklift driver. When they were both about forty years old and neither of them had married, they decided to return home and buy the Quarry Motel. There were ten motel rooms around a central courtyard, and each morning they woke up early to make the breakfasts and clean the rooms. In the afternoon, they took turns to watch the reception desk, which was attached to their little three-bedroom house.

  They had been there for twenty-five years when they took me home. I’m a murderer, so it didn’t seem right that I should have any good luck. Dozens of volunteers spent days wandering around the desert, tried desperately to find my parents, while I was safe and cared for by the most wonderful people on Earth.

  I felt like a prince walking into a palace. Jane took me to a small room opposite the bathroom. “This is your bedroom, Tyler, for as long as you’re able to stay with us,” she said. “You just make yourself at
home. That’s Kevin’s bedroom, right next to yours. And my bedroom’s here, on the other side of the hallway.”

  “This is my own bedroom?” I asked, walking into a neat little room with cream coloured curtains, an old wooden dressing table and a single bed with a blue chenille bedspread. There was even a wooden closet. “It’s wonderful, I never thought I’d stay anywhere like this.”

  They looked at each other and smiled. “We’re really pleased you like it,” said Kevin. “The bed’s very comfortable and that dressing table belonged to our grandmother.”

  I sat on the bed and it felt so soft I couldn’t resist laying flat on my back with my head on the feather pillow. “This is like floating on a cloud,” I said.

  “You can rest there for a while if you want,” said Jane. “You must be exhausted after your ordeal. While you’re here, just treat us like your parents, and we’ll treat you like our son – if you don’t mind.”

  All I could do was smile back at them, afraid of saying something stupid if I dared to speak.

  “It’s nearly lunchtime, would you like a chicken and salad sandwich?”

  “Yes, please,” I said, barely able to believe my good fortune.

  That was the day my life turned around. A few people in town brought over some clothes for me and offered to help me in any way they could. Every day, Jane gave me porridge and poached eggs on toast for breakfast, sandwiches and fruit for lunch, and meat with vegetables for dinner. Kevin taught me all about cars and everything there was to know about the town of Quarry and the plants and animals in the surrounding desert. I pitched in to help with the work around the motel. A few days after my arrival, Jane said that in one week’s time the new term would start and I could attend Quarry Public School. I would be in sixth grade.

  That made me nervous. “Could I read one of your books?” I asked. There was a bookshelf in the living room, and I figured that if I was going to school then I ought to do some study.

  “Of course, Tyler, help yourself – you don’t have to ask,” said Jane. “Have you read many books?”

  “We didn’t have any books when we were on the road, but I’ve always known how to read.”