by Sandy Curtis
'Are you interested in bush medicine?'
Drew could tell his question took Emma by surprise. They had stopped for a few minutes to rest and snack on some biscuits he had packed. He was becoming increasingly concerned by the tense look on Emma's face. He'd been applying more of the cunjevoi sap whenever her arm began to sting again, but he knew it wasn't the pain that worried her. The condition of Mary's baby was weighing heavily on her mind.
He was concerned for the child, too, but right now it was Emma's welfare that he had some control over. If he could distract her thoughts for a while, it might ease her tension, lighten her emotional burden.
'I've always been interested in the local cures when I've been in foreign countries,' she replied. 'Sometimes when you're isolated you mightn't be able to get enough supplies brought in and you have to use anything you can.'
She bit her lip and looked slightly shamefaced. 'I'm afraid I haven't done much research in my own country.'
Drew pointed to the small, bright red figs that littered the forest floor. 'Cluster figs,' he said. 'Edible.' Then he pointed to the tall spreading tree above them. 'Scrape the inner wood of the fig tree's branches into warm water and you have a relief for diarrhoea.'
He picked up some green seed pods lying underneath another tree. One pod nearly covered the palm of his hand. He cracked it open to reveal four brown nuts. 'Candle nuts. The kernel inside tastes like a macadamia nut. But you have to roast it first or it acts like a laxative.'
'Then you drink your fig water,' she quipped, and Drew was grateful to see some of the tension had eased from her face.
'Yep. And if you don't want to eat it, you can burn it like a candle. It's extremely oily.'
Emma's expression grew serious. 'When this is over, perhaps you can give me some more lessons.'
Drew nodded, and tossed the nuts into his pack. Once Morgan was behind bars, he was going to devote a lot of time to showing Emma more than just bush tucker and bush medicine.
They'd been climbing progressively higher as the light faded, and Drew knew they would soon have to stop. It was getting harder to see the imprint of Morgan's boots and he was afraid of losing the trail altogether.
He stopped and waited for Emma to catch up. She had been lagging behind for the past half hour, but had refused to stop, assuring him she was all right.
'We'll have to camp overnight, Emma, it's getting too dark to see properly.'
She was breathing heavily, and he knew that although she was fit, his stamina, in spite of his recent ordeal, was far greater, and he had pushed their pace in the past few hours.
She unzipped a pocket on her pack and handed him a miner's torch. 'Sometimes I've had to operate at night without electricity. Will it be enough for you to see by? I've also got a Mag-Lite torch on my Swiss army knife, it's only small but quite powerful.'
'We have to rest, Emma. Morgan won't be going anywhere in the dark, and we run the risk of injury if we try to.' He gestured ahead where the slope seemed to level out and the tree density lessened. 'We'll rig up some shelter and see if we can start a fire. Come on.'
As shelters went, it was crude but effective. Palm fronds covered propped-up branches to form a forty-five degree angle to the ground, and the foil blanket from Emma's pack covered a bed of hastily picked bracken. Their packs were pushed to the back of the shelter to keep them safe from inquisitive possums.
Drew dug a hole in the ground and started a fire from the paper bags holding their sandwiches and some dry bark he'd found under several fallen trees. He used palm fronds as a barrier to prevent the light being seen from anywhere but their shelter. He didn't think Morgan knew they were tracking him, and he wanted to have the element of surprise on their side, if possible.
The contents of Emma's pack amazed Drew. She had produced mosquito repellent, matches, water purifying tablets - not that they needed those in this pristine rainforest. Unfortunately, she had no coffee. Better nothing, he thought grimly, than a week of lukewarm tea in Morgan's shed.
They sat under the shelter and ate the rest of the sandwiches, deciding to keep for breakfast the fruit Drew had packed. He looked up through the rainforest canopy and was grateful to see bright moonlight in a clear sky. He'd worried that night-time rain would wash away Morgan's tracks but it looked as though they were going to be lucky.
Emma's hand on his thigh brought his attention back to her. Her hair needed combing, she had smudges on her cheek, and her once-crisp blouse hung limply. But as he looked into her sherry-rich eyes reflecting the flickering firelight, he thought her almost unbearably beautiful. He knew he could never let her go from his life, and somehow he knew he would have to convince her she was meant to be his.
It was true that he considered her an equal, but if they caught up with Morgan - when they caught up with Morgan, he amended grimly - there was no way he was letting her get within a stone's throw of the man. He never again wanted to experience the terror he'd felt when he'd thought she had been caught by the firebomb. He was determined to protect her. With his life if necessary.
'I know there's no ladies room, Drew, but I have to use it.'
'Don't go far,' he warned.
The blackness was almost tangible, so 'far' wasn't a problem. Nothing could have persuaded her to blunder around in the undergrowth without a light and risk another encounter with a stinging tree, and she was grateful for the small beam from her Mag-Lite torch.
If she'd thought the rainforest relatively quiet during the day, the night opened up a new world of sound. A cacophony of frog croaks filled the air, and possums scurried about in the treetops. The noise was almost like a physical assault, and when it stopped for a brief second it was the reverse of a gunshot on a quiet evening. Then it began again and she made a conscious effort to blot out its intensity.
She returned to Drew and quivered as he pulled her close to sit beside him. There should be a law, she thought, something that made it illegal for her heart to pound like crazy just because he touched her. She was tired, her legs ached from hours of walking and struggling over logs and boulders, but as he leaned over and smoothed the hair off her forehead, she wanted him with a fervour that surprised her. She turned her head to kiss his palm, then he captured her in an embrace that was both comforting and arousing.
With a reluctant sigh he eased away. 'We'd better get some sleep. We'll be up at first light.' He grinned. 'And it's my turn to use the wilderness toilet.'
Suddenly there was a terrible thrashing about in the foliage above their heads. Twigs and leaves went flying. A sharp hiss was followed by clicks and grunts, then a furry body fell heavily beside their shelter. They barely had time to make out the lustrous silver-grey fur and cream underbelly, lank tail and possum-like face of a tree kangaroo before it shook itself fiercely and hopped away into the undergrowth.
Emma had jumped up as the animal had fallen, but now she laughed, relief easing the tension she'd felt all day. She offered Drew her torch, but he put on the miner's torch she had given him. 'I prefer to keep one hand free,' he said as he picked up the rifle.
She heard him walk into the undergrowth, and soon only the sound of him relieving himself helped to pinpoint where he was.
The mountain air was cool and crisp, and she was grateful she would have Drew's warm body around her through the night. She started to bend down to go back under the shelter when a rough hand snaked around her mouth and pulled her back against a hard, large body.
A knife blade pressed against her throat.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When it had become obvious that Hadley Morgan's trail and that of Emma and Drew led high into the mountain, Mick had called the searching officers back to a hastily set up camp at the mountain base. There was no point having them wandering around in the dark, particularly as Morgan, with his jungle skills, could easily kill them one by one if he wanted to.
He'd requested Ivy Morgan to be brought to Tom's house. If they caught up to Morgan, perhaps they could helicopter Ivy in to
plead with her husband to give up the baby.
He questioned her about Morgan, trying to glean anything that might help them to understand why he had taken the baby, and what he might do next.
Ivy sat quietly, her eyes downcast, fingers twining together. Mick noticed how haggard she looked. Even since he'd seen her that afternoon, she seemed to have shrivelled up, aged ten years.
'When we were first married, Hadley was wonderful,' she said softly. 'He worked hard, helped with Simon. But as the years went on he…he would go off into the mountains for days at a time. He always told me he was going, was always sorry for causing me concern, but he didn't seem able to help himself. It was as though he needed the solitude. I used to worry that he would get lost or hurt, but he kept reassuring me that he was more at home there than he was in a house.'
She raised her eyes to Mick. 'Since Simon's death, he's disappeared for up to two weeks at a time. And each time he returned, he was more remote than before. Hadley would know that National Park better than the rangers, Detective. It will be a miracle if you find him.'
'Did you bring baby food?' The whisper breathed into Emma's ear.
Shock and terror froze her motionless; then her survival instinct kicked in and she nodded, the movement difficult against the force of his hand. She pointed to the strap of her pack, just visible in the firelight.
'Pick it up. Don't struggle, don't scream, or you'll die.'
Awkwardly, with the man's big body curving over hers, the knife still at her throat, Emma bent over and clutched the pack. He forced her into the darkness. The smell of dried blood assailed her nostrils and her stomach plummeted. Bethany must still be alive, why else would Morgan need baby food, but was she injured?
She stumbled and fear that the knife would drag across her throat, clutched her heart. But the hand across her mouth held her firm. Although her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she couldn't see the ground at her feet. He pulled her with him through the undergrowth.
'Morgan!'
Drew's desperate shout echoed through the jungle, and the wildlife noises stopped as though they'd been switched off. Just as quickly they returned.
The knife moved away from Emma's throat. Morgan's hand dropped from her mouth. Before she could focus on what he was doing, his fingers gripped her neck and the black night swirled into her head.
As soon as he had returned to the shelter and realised Emma was gone, fear had ripped through Drew. The boot prints over-treading the smaller ones of her sneakers told him what must have happened. Rage burned through his veins.
He roared Morgan's name, hoping his challenge would be answered. But no answering call echoed through the darkness.
Cold, implacable anger set in. Anger so great it would have consumed him if he hadn't channelled it into a grim determination. He would get Emma back - or die trying.
He folded the foil blanket, tucked it into his pack and covered the fire with dirt. He adjusted the miner's torch to focus on the ground just in front of him, and began to follow the tracks. The darkness slowed his progress, but the double set of tracks were clear.
When he reached the spot where the two tracks became one, his heart lurched. Why wasn't Emma capable of walking anymore? What had Morgan done to her? If he'd hurt her…
With a supreme effort he reined in his fear. He had to remain focused.
Emma's head was swinging, knocking against rough cloth. After a few seconds of disorientation, she became aware she was being carried, fireman-style, through jungle-like undergrowth. She stiffened, and immediately Morgan stopped and swung her to the ground, the knife flashing into his hand, tip at her throat.
'Don't scream. Don't say anything,' he whispered. A low-pitched, level voice, it barely carried in the night air. 'He's still following. If he gets closer, I'll have to kill him.'
He turned the knife, pale moonlight glinted on the blade, and Emma knew sheer terror. Morgan had been like a ghost, creeping up on her in the dark, and she had no doubts that he could easily do the same to Drew, even though Drew would be on his guard. She would do anything to keep him safe.
'I won't,' she whispered back, 'I promise.'
He gripped her wrist, his big hands calloused and immensely strong. Then he was pulling her through the jungle. The plants tore at her skin and ripped her clothing. She had always thought her night vision was good, but under the canopy of the dense jungle they were now in, the darkness was so intense she felt she was losing her perspective. It was difficult to judge the closeness of the plants, the trees.
Morgan seemed unaffected by the problem. He pushed his way, swerving around trees, stepping over rocks that she stumbled over. It was almost as though he could sense the objects in his way. Emma had no idea which way they were going, only that they were gradually going upwards.
They came to a small creek gurgling down the mountainside. Without pausing, Morgan picked her up, slung her over his shoulder and stepped into the water. He turned, and walked downstream. Emma felt his body vibrate, and she realised, with astonishment, that he was laughing. Silently, but definitely laughing.
He whispered, 'This'll throw him off the scent.'
She knew then that Morgan was determined not to let Drew find them, and he obviously had the ability to do just that. It looked as though she was going to be on her own. She wondered if she could escape when he put her down, but decided against trying. She was no match for him in the jungle, he would catch her easily, and she had no idea where to go. In the dark, she would become hopelessly lost. At least Morgan seemed to be walking with a purpose, and she hoped Mary's baby was that purpose.
Morgan stopped, stepped up on some rocks on the opposite side of the stream and walked a few yards before putting Emma back on the ground. Then he was dragging her through the undergrowth again.
Upwards.
In all the time he had been chained in Morgan's hut, Drew had never felt the despair that tore at him now. Now he was gambling on his tracking skills being good enough to find Morgan and Emma. And it looked as though he had lost.
The prints had led into the stream. He'd prayed they would come out the other side. But they didn't. Picking up heavy boot prints by the light of the miner's torch was one thing, trying to discern if moss had been scraped off rocks under running water was an impossibility. He returned to where the tracks had stopped. He carefully marked the spot by pushing a large stick in the ground and tying a white paper bag to it, then started walking upstream, looking for evidence that Morgan had doubled back and was still on this side of the stream.
Finally he reached a section where the stream narrowed between two boulders through which it would have been impossible for Morgan and Emma to have passed. He crossed to the other bank and started searching downstream.
The light on the torch was slowly dimming, but he was afraid to hurry, afraid he might miss a vital clue to indicate where Morgan had left the stream. The rocky banks meant he had to search in a sweeping pattern a few feet back into the undergrowth, and it ate up the minutes.
Drew never knew he possessed the utter ruthlessness that he needed now to stop the images of Emma coming into his brain. He couldn't afford to think about the woman he loved in the hands of a man who had taken life with such callous disregard. A man who would steal a baby after mutilating the father. Now he needed to concentrate on the soft earth, the leaf mulch, the thick luxurious plants, for any sign of their passage.
As he crossed the point where he'd marked the track on the opposite bank, the torch flickered and grew dimmer. He took five more steps before it faded completely.
He stood there, motionless, feeling the night close in around him, thick with the noise of animal and insect life, the oppressive, claustrophobic sensation of all-encompassing jungle.
He fought the despair that rose up in him like bile.
'Please, I need a rest.' Emma had fallen for the fifth time, and her legs thrummed with the pain of over-worked muscles. Her watch told her they'd been walking for hours, and she
was beginning to wonder if Morgan was taking her to the baby.
Morgan stopped in the motion of pulling her to her feet. He seemed to hesitate, as though she were asking something he wasn't sure he could give, then he said, 'One minute,' and allowed her to flop down onto the leaf mulch, although he still held her wrist. She thought about leeches, and decided she was too tired to care.
They were the only words he had spoken since they'd crossed the first creek. They'd crossed three more creeks, and although he'd carried her across those as well, he'd made no effort to conceal where they'd exited. Emma sensed he was a man to whom silence was second nature, but she hoped he would tell her about Bethany.
'Is the baby all right?'
The grip on her wrist tightened, but he didn't reply. Damn! If only she could see his face, read his expression. But he was just a dark silhouette among other dark silhouettes, and she felt he would melt into the jungle if he released her. For a moment she panicked that he would do just that. As much as she would love to be free of him, he was her only link to Mary's baby.
'Come.' It was a guttural command, reinforced by a rough jerk on her arm. Her muscles protested as she was pulled to her feet. They were still climbing upwards, but within a few minutes the rainforest thinned and soon they were climbing over rock. At least now there was some moonlight to see by, and Emma lost the disoriented feeling that had plagued her in the jungle. The night was still, the air clean and sharp, a welcome change to the oppression of the jungle they'd left.
Morgan continued to pull her after him, but eventually he was forced to let her hand free so she could climb safely. The angle of the slope had increased, and there was little vegetation between the rocks, but at least now they were climbing almost horizontally, rather than vertically. In places, the rock face appeared to fall away in a long drop to the rainforest and Emma clung to the rocks, fearful of falling into the murkiness below.