Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

  Carmen’s voice penetrated.

  “Just over there Andrew. On your right!”

  Andrew turned, took a breath and slid under the water. It took an effort of will-power to do this as he disliked swimming underwater and had an irrational fear of what might lurk in the shadows. In spite of the swirling algae and mud he forced himself to keep his eyes open.

  There! A movement.

  In two quick strokes he was down and had the boy. The boy was still struggling, but only feebly. Andrew’s fingers closed on clammy feeling flesh, seizing the boy’s right upper arm. At once Andrew struck out for the surface, which showed above him as blurred silver through a swirling cloud of murk.

  He broke surface and turned to tread water. ‘God, he’s heavy!’ he thought with dismay as he struggled to get the boy’s head above water. For a moment he doubted whether he had the strength. ‘I don’t need to keep my own head out all the time,’ he told himself. So he changed his grip and hoisted the boy higher. With a heave he got the boy’s head well clear of the water but his own mouth and nose went down. The tiny ripples on the water were just large enough to slop into his face.

  “Don’t.. gug.. guggle.. sluh! Don’t.. puff.. puff... struggle,” Andrew cried. He was finding it so difficult he began to experience a feeling of mounting desperation. Worse still the boy had begun to squirm strongly. Into Andrew’s mind raced stories of how drowning people clung to their would-be rescuers and pushed them under, to drown them too. ‘Now, what did the Life Saving Instructor say to do?

  Andrew suddenly realized he had a bigger problem than he had anticipated. He had a Life Saving Certificate but had never actually attempted a rescue before. To his consternation things weren't going as well as he had hoped. The boy started to struggle violently and snatched at his hands. Before Andrew realized the peril his right wrist was gripped by the boy and he found himself being pulled around and under.

  ‘I must break free!’ he thought as the beginnings of real fear stirred in his heart. His head went under and he had trouble swimming. He tried to prize loose the drowning boy’s grip but his fingers slipped. Before he could stop him the boy had turned and grabbed him. Panic had the boy in its grip and he scrambled frantically up onto Andrew, pushing him under just as he tried to get his mouth and nose clear to breathe.

  Andrew took in some water and started to cough and throw up as he strove to break free. He had his eyes open but all he could see was slimy weed and the boy’s body. His feet thrashed wildly in an attempt to propel himself back to the surface. As he kicked he felt the long, trailing water weeds caress, then abruptly tighten on his left ankle. He kicked hard but the weeds only seemed to tighten. Fear began to turn to panic.

  ‘My feet are wrapped in the weeds! I must get free. Keep calm! Don’t panic!’ Andrew told himself. Now desperation gave him strength. His mind raced as the pain of holding his breath increased. How to break free? First to get rid of the frantic boy gripping him; then worry about the weed.

  The boy’s shorts were up against Andrew’s face as he tried to clamber onto his shoulders and head. Knowing that he was now fighting for his own life removed Andrew’s scruples. He remembered something his dad had told him and grabbed the boy’s little finger and yanked hard. That freed his right wrist. ‘Now to get rid of him.’ His hand shot up into the boy’s groin and gripped hard at his genitals. The boy twitched abruptly and kicked hard. A blow struck Andrew in the ear but the boy let go.

  As soon as he felt himself free Andrew bent down to his ankle and felt at the weed. His mind told him what had happened but it also told him he was fast running out of time. Flashes of light seemed to flicker before his eyes and black dots appeared to dance along with the floating muck in the dark green water. Drums began to pound in Andrew’s head and he knew he was about to black out. He struggled with the slimy weed but it was tougher than he had expected and very hard to grip.

  ‘I’m going to drown!’ Andrew thought in panic. He had never really thought about drowning but into his mind flashed all the things he had been told about it; particularly the popular supposition that it was an easy and peaceful death. ‘No it’s not! I don’t want to die! I haven’t lived yet!’ he thought.

  In a desperate effort to get free Andrew wrenched at the weeds. Free! He looked up, water running up his nose and bubbles bursting out as he found it impossible to hold his breath any longer. He struck out and felt the weeds curling around his ankles again. With a tremendous effort of willpower he stopped kicking and used only his arms in a breast-stroke. The surface of the water looked like dappled silver, something like frosted glass, but with bubbles rising towards it. There was a mottled pattern of dark blobs he knew were water lilies.

  For a few frantic seconds Andrew clawed his way up, his lungs at bursting point. Then his head broke surface. He just had time to gasp in one breath before he was pushed under again as the floundering boy found him. ‘Not again!’ Andrew thought. He had never been so scared in all his life. He knew he was only an average swimmer. With an effort he pushed himself free and swam sideways to get out from under the boy. A flailing foot whacked Andrew in the ear but he got clear. When he was sure there was no-one above him he rose again.

  His head broke surface and he took another breath, a deep, gasping gulp that included weeds and water and which set him coughing and spluttering. The stench of rotting vegetation filled his nostrils and he felt bile rise in his throat. But he had his head out and was able to take another breath.

  The water boiled in front of his eyes and the drowning boy’s head and an arm came out. The boy had his back to Andrew and as he sank Andrew grabbed at him. His fingers closed on the boy’s hair and he gripped it tightly.

  ‘I must keep him facing that way,’ he thought. He looked around, wiping water from his eyes to orient himself. There was the concrete pylon of the bridge close beside him but it looked a terribly long way to the shore. He struck out, dragging the struggling figure with him. But after a couple of strokes he began to doubt if he had the strength to reach the safety. He heard the boy gurgle, retch and gasp behind him as his head came out.

  “Don’t struggle! Lie ...puff.. lie still. I’ve.. puff.. got you,” Andrew gasped. There was a groan which might have meant anything, then the boy went quite slack. For a moment Andrew wondered if he might have died but he found swimming easier and started to make progress. He turned half on his side and struck out for the nearest bank.

  Almost at once things went wrong again. A small wave slapped into his face just as he took a breath and it left him gasping and retching. Worse, his strength seemed to be ebbing away. His arms now felt like lead and he had trouble moving his limbs. He then swam into a mass of floating lilies and felt the weeds and stems around his body and limbs. With an effort that left him gasping and barely able to tread water he broke free.

  ‘I’m not going to make this,’ Andrew thought. The terrible option of letting go of the boy flashed into his mind as he realized it may well be the choice that meant saving himself. Agony of conscience was added to physical pain. He puffed and tried to summon up the strength to go on. But the bank looked as far away as ever.

  ‘I will have to let go,’ he decided as the sick realization was confirmed that he might not even be able to make it on his own. The cruel irony that they might both still drown added to the pain. Andrew began to pray as he realized he was barely keeping his own head above water and not making any apparent progress.

  Then a fierce cramp seized his left arm.

  CHAPTER 2

  MARTIN

  Andrew knew in his heart he was not being sensible. ‘I should save myself,’ he told himself, but he did not let go of the boy. As he struggled to stay afloat he swallowed more water and choked. His head went under and he knew he was close to the end.

  Splash! Splash!

  The water foamed beside him and the wash engulfed him just as he was trying to take another breath. Again he swallowed and choked. He went under and felt a terrible sense of d
espair as pain seared through his chest. As he broke surface he vomited. To his added dismay he found he could hardly focus his vision.

  A face appeared in front of him. The mouth in it was opening and closing but it took a moment for Andrew to recognize the person and for the words to penetrate. It was the urchin nicknamed ‘Rat’.

  Rat gestured. “Let him go mate. I got ‘im.”

  Andrew shook his head but Rat ignored that and swam past to grab the boy’s hair. Another face appeared:- ‘Maggot’s’. ‘He must have jumped,’ Andrew thought.

  There was another splash nearby. Mark’s face appeared and he shouted in Andrew’s ear. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

  Andrew nodded and felt relief surge through him. He let go of the boy when he was sure the urchins had him. Mark gripped his upper arm and helped him to tread water. Andrew coughed and spluttered and felt awful but knew he was going to live. Another head swam past; the third urchin: ‘Toad’.

  As soon as he had his breath Andrew began a slow breast stroke towards the shore. It was a good fifty metres and seemed a terribly long way. Mark swam with him, helping with encouragement and a hand under his arm. The urchins followed, taking turns to drag the boy, who now lay limp. Andrew worried that the boy might be drowned but now used his energy to save himself.

  A car appeared on a roadway which swept down under the end of the bridge in a loop. Police sprang out of it. Running figures appeared coming down the other side of the loop: Carmen and Jill. Then several kids appeared from along the bank.

  MICK LOVES SANDY was painted on the concrete headwall of the bridge. Andrew noted it in a kind of detached trance. His mind swam along with his body. He felt dreadfully tired.

  At last the bank grew closer with every stroke and then Mark was helping him to stumble through the shallows. With a groan of relief and exhaustion Andrew was helped up onto the grassy slope, where he sank down and vomited again. Carmen and Jill ran to hold him, brushing off the two police officers.

  “I.. I’m alright,” Andrew gasped. His brain reeled and the bridge seemed to revolve. He lay back and closed his eyes, drawing in great gulps of air. Then he began to shiver and tremble. There was splashing and voices and he opened his eyes and noted that the urchins had reached the shallows with the boy. The two policemen waded in to help. A siren sounded in the distance, the strident urgency of it causing Andrew’s heart rate to climb again.

  ‘Sounds like an ambulance,’ he thought dully. It was. The vehicle came roaring down under the bridge to pull up near him. Only then did it register that it had been called to help them. With an effort he sat up as the paramedics sprang out.

  Andrew shook his head. “I’m.. OK. Help him,” he croaked, pointing to where the urchins and policemen were carrying the boy up the bank. ‘God, I hope he’s not dead!’ he thought.

  He wasn’t. Even as Andrew watched the boy coughed and retched. He was laid on the grass and the paramedics took over, watched by the fascinated urchins. Andrew breathed out and relaxed. Only then did he become fully conscious of the fact that Jill was holding his bare shoulders and stroking his arm gently. Her hazel eyes looked anxiously into his and he managed a smile. She smiled back.

  Mark spoke up. “Hey! I didn’t save you so you could smile at my girl!”

  At that Andrew managed a weak grin. “She’s worth smiling at,” he replied, at which Jill went pink around the cheeks.

  Carmen sniffed and then laughed. “You weren’t under water long enough little brother,” she commented.

  One of the policemen knelt down and asked: “Are you alright?”

  “Yes thanks. I’m just a bit worn out. I swallowed too much swamp water,” Andrew replied. He actually felt terrible but his pleasure at learning that the boy was alive helped overcome it.

  “You smell like it,” Mark replied. Andrew noted a distinct edge to his voice and a glint in his eye that had been absent earlier. ‘I’ve upset him over Jill,’ he decided.

  The policeman interrupted their banter. “So what happened?”

  Mark answered. “Some kids.. well, not kids really, teenage hooligans more like, knocked that boy down and then chucked him over the railings. We were just passing,” he explained.

  “So you had nothing to do with him being in the water.” It was a statement, rather than a question and Andrew resented it.

  Bristling with annoyance he sat up. “That’s right. I just jumped in to save him because it looked like he couldn’t swim and was going under,” he said.

  Carmen shook her head. “And almost got drowned yourself!” she cried. “I was nearly sick when that boy climbed up onto you and you went under.”

  Andrew made a face. “You were nearly sick! Anyway, thanks Mark, I owe you for that. You saved my life. Thanks.”

  Mark blushed and shrugged. “And you saved his life. I wonder who he is and why those thugs chucked him in?”

  At that moment the other policeman let out a loud yell: “Oi! You bloody kids come back here!”

  Andrew looked and saw the three urchins sprinting off upstream along a walking track beside the river. Maggot glanced back and slowed down but Rat and Toad took off. Maggot followed. The policeman yelled again but that only spurred the three on. They vanished out of sight up behind the council depot.

  The policeman swore under his breath, then said: “Little buggers! We’ve had several complaints about them jumping off the bridge. I warned them the other day. How do they come into this?”

  Andrew glanced at the rapidly vanishing urchins. “They were jumping off the bridge for some sort of a dare as we came along,” he said. “And they saved that boy’s life I reckon.”

  The constable nodded. “Yes, I suppose so,” he conceded reluctantly. “Little buggers! If I catch them doing it again I’ll...”

  The other policeman laughed. “Won’t do much,” he added. “Not in this day and age. Bloody kids can get away with murder nowadays.”

  Carmen made an emphatic nod of her head. “Speaking of murder, I reckon that's what the three who threw that boy in should be charged with,” she said.

  The policeman made a face. “Be hard to prove,” he replied.

  “But we saw them!” Carmen insisted. “They beat the boy up and kicked him in the .. in the .... in the, you know..” She went red and so did both of the policemen.

  “Er, yes. Well, that may account for it. Do you know who they were?” the first constable asked.

  Andrew answered. “Only their nicknames,” he replied. “The one with ‘Sweathog’ on his T-shirt is called ‘Rocky’. The skinny one with black hair is Jay and the other one, with the surly face, is Troy.”

  “Well done! Do you know them at all?”

  Andrew shook his head. “No sir. I.. we.. my sister and I, come from Cairns,” he replied, indicating Carmen.

  “What about you two then?” the policeman asked Mark and Jill.

  Mark shook his head. “We are locals, but I have never seen them in my life,” he replied. Jill nodded.

  The policeman looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Well, I think I know who they are. I wonder if the boy knows them?” he said.

  “I think he might, just from the way they spoke to him,” Andrew replied.

  They turned to look at where the paramedics had the boy lying on his side on a stretcher. The first policeman went over. “How is he?” he asked.

  One of the paramedics looked up. “Bit sick. He’ll be alright,” he replied.

  Do you need to take them in?” asked the constable.

  The paramedic nodded. “Be a good idea. He looks a bit green around the gills.”

  “Take them both then,” the policeman said.

  On hearing that Andrew sat up. “Oh sir! I’m alright,” he insisted.

  “You don’t look it. What about you other kids, do you live far away?” the constable asked, smiling at Carmen as he did.

  Mark pointed in the direction the urchins had vanished in. “Just over in Cranbrook,” he replied.

  Jill nodded. The same,�
�� she added.

  Carmen stood up. “I’ll come with my brother if I might?” she asked.

  The constable smiled at her and nodded. “Sure. We will just get some details first,” he said. He took out his notebook and smiled at her again. She smiled back, then blushed. The constable said, “I’m Constable Fort... David Fort.”

  Andrew watched this by-play and shook his head. ‘The bugger!’ he thought. ‘He thinks sis is alright.’

  Carmen returned the smile. “I’m Carmen Collins, and this is my little brother Andrew,” she told the constable. Her eyes met Constable Fort’s and then flickered down. A faint blush mottled her cheeks.

  “And how old are you?” he asked.

  “I’m fourteen,” Carmen replied, “And Andrew is thirteen.”

  “I see,” Constable Fort replied. Andrew fancied that there was a faint trace of disappointment in his voice. “And what about you two?” he asked Mark and Jill.

  “I’m Mark Swain and I’m thirteen,” Mark replied.

  “Jill Cooper. Thirteen too.”

  Constable Fort looked at Mark. “What school do you go to Mark?” he asked as he scribbled hastily in his notebook.

  “Heatley Secondary College,” Mark replied.

  Jill nodded. “Me too,” she added.

  Constable Fort grinned. “Good! So did I,” he replied. “What grade are you? Year Eight?”

  “Going into nine this year,” Jill answered.

  Constable Fort turned to Carmen. “So what are you and your brother doing in Townsville Carmen?” he asked.

  “We came down for a Navy Cadet camp. We are staying with relatives now,” Carmen replied.

  “Are you a navy cadet then?”

  “Yes. I’m an Able Seaman. We are all navy cadets. That is how we know each other,” Carmen explained.

  “Good-o! I was an army cadet myself, in the Heatley unit. OK. Let’s get moving. You can hop in the ambulance or come in the police car,” Constable Fort said, gesturing to where the paramedics were lifting the boy into the back of the vehicle.