Secret in the Clouds

by Christopher Cummings

  There was another large creek which ran across the valley floor on the far side of the big clear area and then north of the homestead and into the lagoon. Some hard thinking about the map caused Stephen to suppose this was Pandanus Creek. ‘And the closer one is Granite Creek,’ he decided.

  After scanning the whole area for signs of life Stephen decided there was no point in staying any longer. “Let’s go,” he said, rising to his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Tom asked.

  “To check out the homestead,” Stephen replied.

  “Shouldn’t we go back and get the police or something?” Tom queried.

  That was what was bothering Stephen the most but he replied, “We need to check out where Graham and Tom are first. Then we can go back. We will leave our packs hidden here amongst these rocks.”

  “What if we get seen?” Tom asked.

  “Then we run for it and try to get away,” Stephen replied. What was really bothering him was the knowledge that it was no good just getting back to the car. It would be locked and Peter had the keys in his pocket. “We will have to walk all the way back to the first farm,” he explained. “And do it cross-country,” he added.

  “How far is that?” Tom asked anxiously.

  “Thirty kilometres at least,” Stephen replied. At that thought a feeling of intense isolation and near despair swept through him. ‘We are stupid,’ he chastised himself. ‘We should never have done this.’ Then he shrugged. It was no good wasting time or nervous energy on such thoughts, particularly as the original reasons for not going to the authorities still seemed to hold good. ‘Although innocent stockmen don’t hold people up at gunpoint,’ he mused.

  He now led the way back down through the available cover to the creek. Here they paused to rinse their faces, to drink, and to refill water bottles. That done they continued on. Stephen saw that it was midday by then and he briefly considered stopping to eat but decided it was safer to keep moving. Instead he ate lollies from a packet in his left basic pouch.

  The going was quite easy, the hardest thing being to remember not to walk on the sandy patches. From time to time he went up the bank to carefully scan the grassy flats on either bank. All he saw were a few cattle and a couple of wallabies. It became very hot and sweat kept trickling into his eyes, the salt stinging them so much he had to stop and rinse them before continuing. Flies arrived to annoy.

  The boys passed the junction with a large creek which came in from the left. ‘Gap Creek,’ Stephen told himself. The main creek then curved around to the right and flowed northward. The bed was now ten metres wide and more sand than rock and the only way to move without leaving clear tracks was to get up on the right bank and walk in the long grass, depending on the trees to hide them from any observer on the other side.

  This startled several wallabies which went bounding away. Beef cattle lifted their heads to stare at them but were obviously used to humans as they only moved a few metres before continuing to eat. A dirt road was crossed. This ran off North East and Stephen thought it was the one that went up over the Hann Tableland to Dora Creek. There were no recent wheel tracks and he considered it as a possible escape route but knew it would still be at least twenty kilometres over the mountains to any settlement.

  The distinctive sound of aero engines caused Stephen to motion Tom to get under cover. Both moved to crouch against tree trunks in the long grass. The aircraft engines bellowed somewhere off to the west. “Taking off,” Stephen said.

  The aircraft took off northwards and then turned to head in their direction. “I hope they aren’t up looking for us,” Stephen added. He peered through the trees trying to get a glimpse of the plane. Then he spotted it heading almost directly towards them.

  “Don’t look up,” Stephen warned. He knew that the reflection off a face showed up very clearly to people in an aircraft. Even so he lifted his head just enough to look out from under his hat. The plane was a small twin-engine, low-wing monoplane. It came low overhead, climbing as it did. Stephen noted that it was still raising its wheels as it went out of sight behind them. To his intense relief it kept on going southwards and was soon out of sight.

  ‘Must be an airstrip in that open country,’ he decided. As most cattle stations had an airfield that was hardly a surprise. What worried Stephen was who was in the plane. ‘Was its take-off related to the capture of Graham and Peter?’ he wondered. Satisfied the aircraft had in fact left the area he continued moving north.

  Sunlight reflecting off water appeared ahead. This was the southern end of the lagoon. Stephen crossed to the western side of the creek. He began to get glimpses of the homestead roofs through the trees and went more slowly, scouting now for any sign of trouble. Tom did not need to be told but followed Stephen from tree to tree. The creek banks became lower until the boys were moving across a gentle slope which ran down into the reeds and long grass lining the lagoon.

  ‘At least there are plenty of trees,’ Stephen noted as he moved along the edge of the swampy ground. Using the thick trunks of the numerous paperbarks, plus clumps of tall reeds and patches of lantana as cover he led the way north along the bank of the lagoon, stopping frequently to study the homestead.

  From this angle he could see that the actual ‘homestead’ stood at the top of a gentle grassy slope. It was about 200 metres from the lagoon and was surrounded by a fence and garden. The shrubbery and mango trees in the garden all but hid the house but he could see it was an old ‘Bungalow’ style; one story and surrounded by wide verandas. A couple of small sheds and outhouses stood in the yard.

  Just visible beyond house were at least five other buildings but Stephen could only just see their roofs from this angle so he could not determine their functions. At least two had new, shiny roofs but another was clearly an older structure with a rusty corrugated iron roof and weathered timber walls. ‘Stables, store sheds and so on,’ he decided.

  No-one was in sight but Stephen was still very careful. He went on across the end of a small gully which led down from near the house to check something he could see ahead. This turned out to be a small, open sided shed containing a diesel engine and water pump. A black plastic hose led up from a float out in the lagoon. A muddy path led to the rotting remains of a small jetty. Beside this lay the rotten hull of what had once been a motor launch. A track led down from the house along a line of trees beside a grass-lined fence.

  Stephen studied the derelict boat. He could imagine that anyone living near the lagoon would have a rowboat for fishing and so on but this was the sort of motor launch more suited for the sea. ‘It might have been used to tow the floatplanes or something?’ he wondered. Then his gaze swept out over the waters of the lagoon and he suddenly shivered as memories of his nightmares came to him. Vivid images of rotting hands rising from the black water chilled him. ‘They might have disposed of the bodies in the lake,’ he thought. But he said nothing to Tom about this.

  Shaking his head to dispel the ghoulish images Stephen looked around, wondering what to do next. Tom added to his anxiety by asking, “What do we do now?”

  Forced to make a decision Stephen pointed up the slope. “Get a bit closer to the house and see if we can find out where Graham and Peter are.”

  “Bit risky,” Tom replied.

  “We are probably safer near the enemy HQ,” Stephen replied. “They won’t think to look for us there.”

  Tom looked doubtful but just shrugged. Stephen wasn’t sure either but felt he had to do something. “We will leave our webbing here,” He said. “It will be easier to crawl,” he added. ‘Or run!’ he thought. He placed his webbing in the long grass and Tom did likewise. Satisfied no causal visitor would find the webbing he went down on hands and knees and began crawling up the overgrown vehicle track beside the fence. As he did concern over snakes became his dominant fear. The grass beside the fence was waist high and he presumed it wasn't mowed because the water pipe ran along the ground at the base of the fence. As the fence and vehicle ran strai
ght up to what appeared to be a side fence of the homestead it offered good cover.

  On both sides were grassy paddocks. The one on the right had a few horses in it but they were several hundred metres away and unaware of the boys. As he crawled along Stephen kept pausing to study the area. He noted with satisfaction that the fence they were following connected with the side fence of the homestead. In the corner of the junction was a shed made of rusty corrugated iron. Better still the fence was now overgrown by a passionfruit vine which gave even better cover.

  Just before the shed a sagging wooden gate led in to the paddock on the left but there was enough long grass to crawl through. Ten minute after leaving the lagoon Stephen and Tom crouched behind the back wall of the shed. An open window at the end of the shed allowed Stephen a glimpse inside. It had no front wall and was full of saddles, bridles and old boxes. There was no-one there so he shifted to the end and peeked through the back fence. This was an old paling fence with several pickets missing. Long grass and shrubs on the outside gave plenty of cover.

  Inside the fence was a well kept lawn with garden beds and fruit trees along the back of the house. Ten metres to Stephen’s left was a gate. A path led from this to a short flight of steps which gave access to the back veranda. Stephen was able to see right under the house, which was set on low stumps about a metre high. The house was larger than he had realised, having at least five or six rooms along the back. Their doors opened out onto the back veranda. In the corner of the veranda nearest him was a rainwater tank on a low tank stand, then some rooms which protruded out from the line of the veranda. By the small size of the windows he surmised they were bathrooms or toilets. A passionfruit vine festooned the back railings and water tank.

  The side veranda was just visible as well and the sight of two men sitting there talking set Stephen’s heart thumping even harder. ‘I wonder if we can get close enough to overhear them?’ he wondered. He studied the layout closely. Another set of steps led down from the side veranda to another path which ran to a side gate opening onto the track they had crawled up. Two mango trees stood either side of this path. At what he presumed was the front of the house Stephen could see several cars and Landcruisers parked. Beyond and off to the right fifty metres away were several sheds and what looked like barracks.

  Tom nudged Stephen. “I’d love to know what those two guys are saying,” he whispered.

  Stephen thought so too but shook his head. “Too risky to get any closer.”

  “How else will we find out where Peter and Graham are?” Tom asked.

  Stephen bit his lip and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he relied unhappily.

  “I’m going to creep in and try to overhear them,” Tom said.

  “Tom!” Stephen cried. He was surprised at Tom taking the initiative and reached out to stop him. Tom shook his hand off and crawled along the back fence. Shaking his head with doubt Stephen followed. Five metres along they were hidden from the two men by the bathroom. There was a missing paling there and the ones either side were rotten at the bottom and loose. Tom gently pushed them apart and slid through on his stomach, then crawled over behind a flowering shrub in the middle of the lawn.

  Stephen was appalled as they could be seen from several of the open doors along the back veranda. Biting his lip with anxiety he got down to follow Tom, then froze in fright. Around the front of the house had appeared an old man pushing a wheelbarrow. Stephen hissed frantically but Tom had already moved. To Stephen’s relief the old man paused to speak to the men on the side veranda. This allowed Tom time to slither in under the bathroom.

  The old man then continued on towards the back. Stephen flattened himself in the grass, hoping the old man would not notice the grass crushed by Tom. The old man was very thin and walked with a shuffling stoop. A rake protruding from the wheelbarrow suggested he might be the groundsman or gardener.

  As the old man rounded the corner and went past the back of the bathroom a man appeared on the veranda at the corner near the water tank. Stephen was surprised to see that it was Mr Edward Potts himself. Potts was dressed in white shirt and tie and long, grey trousers. Close up he appeared to be more fleshy than on TV. He called to the gardener.

  “Karl, you know what is going on don’t you?”

  The gardener stopped and looked back. “Yes Mr Potts,” he replied. Stephen held his breath, hoping he would not see Tom who was huddled behind a post nearby.

  “Keep a good lookout then,” Potts added.

  “I vill Mr Potts. Und I vill my gun get as vell,” the gardener replied.

  “And don’t say anything to my father about this,” Potts went on.

  At that moment a whirring noise drew Stephen’s gaze to the far end of the back veranda. He saw another very old man seated in an electric wheelchair come into view from the end doorway. The old man snapped, “And don’t tell me anything about what?”

  “Nothing Dad,” Potts replied. “That will be all thank you Karl,” he added to the gardener.

  ‘Must be Grandfather Potts,’ Stephen decided. ‘Or should it be ‘Grossvater Potke?’.’

  Grandfather Potts erupted in rage. “Tell me damn you! I get sick and tired of being ignored and just pushed around. What the blazes is going on?”

  Potts turned his back and walked back around the corner to the side veranda. Grandfather Potts became even angrier, his lined face mottling with rage. “Come back here and talk to me damn you! You might be the high and mighty minister but you are still my son!” Shouting angrily he followed his son out of sight.

  ‘Now’s my chance,’ Stephen decided. The old gardener had vanished around the other end of the house where a detached annexe which looked like the kitchen stood. As quickly as he could Stephen wriggled through the gap and crawled across the lawn to the shrubs, then around them on the right to shield himself from the back doors. A few moments later he scrambled under the water tank. As he slid in behind the flower bed which ran along below the back veranda he found his heart hammering wildly and his mouth felt completely dry.

  Just over his head the argument went on. It was obviously an old family dispute and the grandfather sounded very bitter and angry. Amidst it Stephen heard Potts say, “Well don’t sit there George. We have to find the third one. So get Eyssen in from the North Stockyard, and get Schroder to get that bloody helicopter in the air.”

  “Yes boss,” replied George.

  At that Grandfather Potts exploded again. “What’s going on George? Three of what?”

  “Aw! You’d better ask Mr Potts that one boss,” George replied.

  There was the sound of boots walking away and Grandfather Potts shouted. “Answer me George! Don’t you walk away from me you bugger! Bloody ungrateful wretch! I’ve given you a good job for thirty years and now you just treat me like dirt. I’m not senile yet you know! Just because I’m stuck in this bloody wheelchair doesn’t mean I can’t think!”

  “Calm down Dad,” Potts cut in. “Come back and have some tea.”

  There was the sound of footsteps overhead as Potts walked back to the back veranda. A whirring noise indicated the wheelchair was swivelling around and following. Grandad Potts kept on. “Tell me what’s going on! I’ve got a right to know. You don’t have to treat me like I don’t exist. I’m not dead and bloody buried yet!”

  “Nobody said you were Dad,” Potts replied.

  “That’s the way you bloody treat me!” shouted the old man. “I’ll cut you out of my bloody will, that’s what!”

  Stephen heard the clack of another person’s footsteps coming along the back veranda above his head. A girl’s voice said, “What’s the matter? Why is Grandad upset?”

  “It’s nothing,” Potts replied.

  “It bloody well is so!” Grandfather Potts shouted.

  “Grandad calm down,” the girl said. “You’ll have one of your attacks if you don’t.”

  “That’s what Edward wants,” Grandfather Potts snarled.

  “It is not Dad,” Potts r
eplied. “Anyway, I don’t have time to stand here arguing. I’ve got work to do. Smoochy, get your grandad some tea please.”

  “Yes dad,” replied the girl. There was the sound of Potts walking back to the side veranda and the girl murmuring soothing words to Grandfather Potts.

  ‘Smoochy?’ Stephen wondered. ‘She must be Potts’s daughter.’

  At that moment Stephen heard another noise which sent his blood cold with fear. The click of a dog’s paws sounded on the back veranda. To his horror he saw it come clicking down the back steps. It was a large Alsatian. Stephen saw it sniff, look around, and then stiffen. Then the dog saw Tom and began to bark furiously.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE HUNT IS ON!

  Stephen stared in horror as the dog dashed under the veranda and latched on to Tom’s ankle. Tom let out a cry of fear and jerked backwards, striking his head on a floor beam. As the dog continued to growl and ‘worry’ Tom Stephen heard cries of alarm from over his head and the swift clatter of boots. A surge of panic sent Stephen scrambling back.

  ‘I must get away!’ he thought. In his haste he also cracked his skull hard on a floor beam under the tank stand. That half-stunned him but also slowed him down. There was clearly no point trying to run across the lawn. ‘Where can I hide?’ he wondered. As he looked frantically around he saw riding boots and jeans come racing down the back steps. It was the girl and Stephen had a fleeting glimpse of a very pretty face and tumbling blonde locks as she bent to look under the house.

  “What is it Annalisa?” called Grandfather Potts anxiously. “Is it a snake?”