Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

  Rat shook his head. “We thought the gang was all gone. We seen ‘em head off about half an hour ago. We never knew that one of them was still there.”

  Toad joined in. “Yeah Maggot; if you hadn’t cried out like a little baby he wouldn’ta knowed we was there.”

  Maggot defended himself. “It hurt! You step in one of them pits and see if you can keep quiet!”

  “How was the pit hidden?” Andrew asked. He was intrigued that this gang of bullies should take such elaborate precautions.

  “Had grass and sticks over the top,” replied Maggot. “I never seen it at all.”

  By this time they had reached the building housing a pump station at the end of the weir. They went left across an open area of mowed grass to the road. Beyond were houses. Carmen did not hesitate. “You lot wait here. I will ask to use the telephone.” She did not wait to see if she was obeyed but strode up to the front door of the nearest house.

  Andrew lowered Maggot to the grass of the footpath in the shade of a tree. While they waited he questioned the boys more about the gang and its hideouts.

  “How many of them are there in the gang?” he asked.

  “Five or six I think,” Rat replied. “That mongrel Don Forman is their boss.”

  “How old is he?” Andrew asked.

  Rat shrugged. “Dunno how old he is. About sixteen or seventeen I suppose. I heard he don’t go ter school anymore. He got chucked out for fightin’, so they reckon.”

  “You said this was one of their hideouts. Have they got many?” Andrew asked.

  “A couple I think. Me mates who go ter Weir reckon they’s got a place across the river from there somewhere,” Rat replied.

  “Weir?” Andrew asked.

  “Another primary school further up the river. There’s another weir across there, a big one like this one,” Rat explained.

  Toad nodded. “They got other hideouts too,” he added. “I heard they got a cave they go to when they take drugs an.. an do things to girls.”

  At that moment Carmen returned with a lady who carried a small First Aid kit. The lady looked all concerned and knelt to apply a pad to the bleeding foot. By now Maggot was very quiet and looked pale behind his freckles.

  “The ambulance is on the way,” Carmen said. She knelt to help.

  Andrew looked at her. “Did you phone the police too?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but I think we should,” Carmen replied.

  The urchins looked alarmed. Rat cried: “Don’t do that please. Don’t call the police!”

  Carmen frowned. “Why ever not?” she asked in surprise. “This is serious. Someone could be badly hurt. I’m sure it is against the law to set man traps.”

  The urchins exchanged glances. Rat looked shifty. “Aw, we’d rather not talk to the cops. They don’t like us.”

  “Why is that? What have you done to annoy them?” Carmen asked.

  Rat shrugged and did not give a clear answer. Andrew pondered what the kids might have been up to but did not ask. By then the worst of the bleeding had been staunched and Maggot was lying on the grass with his leg held up. He looked quite sick.

  A few minutes later the ambulance arrived. The crew of the vehicle were the same two men who had taken Andrew to hospital. As soon as the two paramedics walked over they blinked in surprise. “You lot again! You are great ones for getting into trouble,” commented one.

  Andrew blushed and laughed. He indicated Maggot and said: “Not me. It’s these kids here.” He then moved aside while the paramedics knelt to examine Maggot’s foot. Carmen stood up beside him. Rat and Toad moved a few metres away and began muttering together.

  Andrew spoke softly to Carmen: “I reckon these two are going to clear out.”

  “Can’t be helped,” Carmen replied. “I’m not going to try to hold them. I’d better go and phone the police now. You watch them.”

  Andrew shook his head. “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll go back over to the river bank and keep watch on the island. That way, if the gang leave, I will be able to tell the cops which way they went.”

  Carmen frowned. “You be careful Andrew. Don’t get caught by those bullies on your own.”

  “I won’t. Relax, I’ll be just over there past that building on the levee.” Andrew reassured her. He did not wait for approval but started walking.

  Rat called after him: “Where ya goin’?”

  “Over there to watch,” Andrew replied. “You two stay with your mate.”

  The two urchins stayed but looked most unhappy. Andrew walked quickly on across the mowed grass to the river bank at the end of the weir. Out on the weir he noted several Torres Strait Islanders fishing. There were some kids over on the south bank but they were just playing a game. He walked to the pump station and paused. A glance behind him showed that he was still visible to the others. Carmen was not in sight and he assumed she had gone into the house to use the telephone.

  To his surprise Andrew found that his heart rate had shot up and he was breathing rapidly. He snorted and shook his head. ‘Stop being silly,’ he told himself. ‘There is no danger.’ But that did not calm his heart, or prevent his palms going slippery from sweat.

  Cautiously Andrew walked forward past the pump station, keeping behind the levee so that only his head was visible over it to anyone on the island. He moved fifty metres along the mound then slowly crept to the top behind a large tree. From there he surveyed the river bank and island.

  All appeared normal. Wind rustled the grass and rippled the surface of the river. Waterbirds drifted and paddled out on the blue water. Insects buzzed. The island appeared to be just a tangle of long grass and weeds.

  ‘I wonder where their camp is?’ Andrew mused, noting several clumps of large bushes and trees. ‘Probably in under those bushes.’

  Then an idea seized him which he tried to push out. ‘I could go and look. The police will want to know where to go when they arrive,’ he told himself.

  For a minute he hesitated, knowing it was a risk. He looked back towards the house where the others were. They seemed to be a long way away. ‘I’ll just scout along this bank,’ he decided. ‘These bullies must have some sort of a crossing.’

  Satisfied this was a safe plan he walked up over the top of the levee and down the other side. This was covered with waist high long grass and at once slowed him down as fear of snakes took over as his dominant emotion. It took him a couple of minutes to push his way slowly down through the long guinea grass and blady grass. Each step was carefully checked before he took it.

  When he arrived down close to the water of the overgrown channel Andrew found a narrow footpath which threaded its way through the weeds and grass. This path led along the bank so he followed it, still moving slowly, alternately scanning the island for signs of the bullies, and the grass near his feet for snakes. The result of this was to keep him very tense and to make him sweat more than the blazing tropical sun would otherwise have made him.

  After a few minutes he arrived at the point where the urchins had crossed the channel. Their path was clear to see from the trampled grass and weeds. There was no sign of any bridge or ford. Reasoning that the bullies must have some arrangement for crossing easily Andrew continued on along the pad.

  A hundred paces further along he found what he was searching for. A faint track led down the bank to the water. An area of lilies had some gaps which showed black water. On the other side of the six metre wide channel was what appeared to be a gap in the tall grass. ‘That could be a track,’ he thought. ‘But how deep is the water?’

  He moved down the bank to peer into the water. ‘Yes!’ A large plank was visible just below the surface.

  “I’ll just check what the crossing is like,” he muttered. Anxiously he looked around and saw that he was alone on the river bank. The levee bank hid him from sight. That gave him a feeling of unease. ‘No-one will see if something happens,’ he thought. Then he shook his head. ‘I’m being silly. They are only kids like me,’ he reason
ed.

  But he knew he was scared and that annoyed him, as he wanted to think of himself as brave. As though to prove the point he stepped down into the water. His sandshoe found the plank and he tested it.

  “Feels firm enough. I’ll just check it.”

  Carefully he began to inch along the submerged plank, sliding his feet slowly and feeling for the edges. The plank was thick and strong and about 30 cm wide, similar to ones Andrew had seen being used by painters and builders. He had no trouble keeping his footing and within a few seconds was more than half way across.

  The plank ended abruptly. Andrew felt with his foot but found nothing. That made him pause and peer into the murky water. The end of another plank, about a metre further on showed dimly. He stretched out to test it. Finding it firm, apparently nailed to something underwater, he stepped across. A moment later he was at the far end.

  Now the gap in the tall grass was revealed to be the start of a track. It was not even wide enough for one person to walk along without brushing against the grass on both sides but it was plainly well used. For a moment Andrew hesitated, debating the wisdom of his actions. Then he shrugged and climbed up the low bank onto the island.

  Now his heart rate really shot up and his mouth went dry. ‘I’m in enemy territory now,’ he thought. But he reasoned that the worst they would do was give him a bit of a bashing- if they caught him. A last look behind showed the river bank and levee to be deserted. Nerving himself he moved cautiously forward, every sense alert. In particular he strained his ears to hear and his eyes to seek out any more man traps.

  Within a few paces the track widened so that he was no longer touching the long grass. On his left an area had been cleared and trampled under a thick green bush. A glance showed that there was a space large enough for two people. Andrew bent and crawled in to check. The place stank and was littered with cigarette butts, sweet wrappers and empty softdrink cans. A tiny gap in the bushes gave a clear view along most of the river bank in both directions.

  That gave Andrew a shock. ‘A sentry post, I’ll bet. Gosh, if there had been anyone waiting here I would have walked right into it!’

  After listening again he set off slowly along the track. It curved left after about twenty metres, winding its way through the tangle. The grass and bushes were still so high as to be above Andrew’s head. The breeze did not reach down into the long grass and the air was sweltering. Worse, what wind there was made the dry grass rustle, making it harder to hear.

  An area of flattened grass a few metres ahead attracted Andrew’s attention. He stopped and studied it. ‘Looks different from the track on either side,’ he decided. Not much, but enough to just be obvious if a person was looking. The patch was right next to a dark green bush. Andrew moved slowly forward and picked up a stick from beside the bush. Using that he prodded the flattened grass. The stick poked right through.

  Andrew felt his blood run cold. He shivered and looked fearfully in both directions. Very carefully he knelt and lifted the grass, as wary of snakes as of anything.

  It was a man trap, a pit about half a metre deep. In the bottom was a plank with huge nails hammered through it from the other side so that the sharp ends stuck up about ten centimetres. Andrew was incredulous. It reminded him of a history lesson at school. During the Vietnam War the Viet Cong guerrillas had used such traps.

  “I’d better clear this. The police will be here soon and we wouldn’t want an accident,” he muttered. He pulled the grass and sticks aside, making the pit obvious.

  That done he continued on along the track. It went around a curve to the right and on for ten paces, before coming to a track junction. The other track came in from behind him to the left.

  ‘This must be the track the urchins followed,’ he decided.

  Andrew went right. The wind stirred the grass. A bird fluttered up from somewhere nearby making his heart pound furiously. Still acting like a Comanche in Apache country he crept forward. His care was rewarded. He had been holding the stick in front of him, hanging loosely downwards, in the manner taught on an army cadet camp he had attended. The stick suddenly met something. Andrew felt the vibration and froze, then looked down.

  Tripwire!

  Tied between two small trees was a length of very thin, very strong wire. For a moment Andrew wondered if there might be a bomb or hand grenade attached, then shook his head. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he told himself. Even so, he looked carefully at both ends of the wire. These were tied to small bushes and had empty tins attached, presumably to make a noise when moved. Now that he had seen the wire it was obvious. The grass underneath wasn’t trampled flat in the same way as the rest of the track.

  He stepped carefully over the tripwire and walked slowly on. Ten more paces brought him to a second track junction. A well beaten track went off to the left. He chose this and followed it for twenty paces. Water glinted ahead through the grass. He found himself in under a large bush which overhung the water. There was a small beach and the grass was all trampled. A narrow channel led out through tall reeds, with a sharp curve to the right leading out to the river. He could not see the open water but knew it must be there, from the direction of the sun.

  ‘This must be where they hide their canoes,’ he thought. The place filled him with grudging admiration. He had paddled close along the river side of the island and seen no sign of it.

  Even as he looked it came to Andrew that the water appeared disturbed. He now saw that the water lilies further along the secret channel were slowly moving back together.

  ‘Someone has just been here,’ he decided. ‘Might have been Shaun making a getaway. I wish I could see out onto the river.’ That set his mind working. If the gang had a place to watch the riverbank, he reasoned, then they might have one from where they could watch the water.

  Andrew retraced his steps back to the second track junction and this time turned left, to follow the main track. The track twisted back towards the centre of the island. Several large trees loomed above the grass, giving him a marker. The track led to them. As he got closer he slowed down and checked at every step.

  What he noticed first was the smell. Next he almost stepped on an unburied turd beside the track and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Then he saw dozens more. Used toilet paper festooned the grass and littered the ground. The whole area reeked with the stench of sun-dried urine. Gagging at the smell, Andrew made his way past these and twenty paces on came to the trees. There he stopped and studied what he had found.

  “It is their camp alright,” he muttered. An area about ten metres wide had been cleared under one of the trees. Two plastic sheets had been tied between the trees to make rough tents. Other plastic sheeting was placed on the ground. In the centre of the clearing was a fireplace of bricks. The ashes were cold. The whole area was a litter of scraps, rubbish, paper, empty tins and bottles.

  Wrinkling his nose in disgust Andrew shook his head. “What a mob of pigs!” he muttered. He looked around quickly but there appeared to be nothing of value in the camp. Another track led off west towards the river so he followed this. It led through a tunnel of bushes and tall grass to a point where he could see out through the tall reeds. There was no beach. It was a lookout post. From there he could see right up that reach of the river and almost down to the weir.

  A canoe with two people in it was paddling upstream about three hundred metres away. Andrew squinted and shaded his eyes. Was that Shaun and another bully? But he couldn’t tell. He shrugged. ‘Plenty of people use the river for canoeing.’

  Andrew wiped sweat from his eyes and looked across the river. Huge cumulo nimbus clouds were stacking up behind Mt Stuart and off to the east. More rain was obviously coming.

  “I’d better get back. Carmen will be worrying about me,” he told himself. Feeling well pleased with the results of his exploration, as well as in the proving of his courage, he set off back along the track towards the camp.

  Andrew had only just passed through the camp and started along the
track for the riverbank when he heard the mutter of angry voices. He froze in shock. The gang! They had come back!

  Somehow he had assumed the police would arrive first. ‘Strewth! I’m cut off that way. What will I do?’

  CHAPTER 10

  THAT WAS A SILLY THING TO DO!

  Andrew stopped in alarm and wondered what to do. For a moment he considered running back along the track he had just been on and then swimming for it. But even as he thought that he realized he probably didn’t have time. So he looked around for somewhere to hide. The only cover available was a small bush. As quickly and quietly as he could he pushed in behind the bush and crouched down.

  No sooner had he done this than the bullies came into view: Forman leading Troy and Jay. It was obvious from their conversation that they had discovered the exposed man-trap and were wondering who had done it. Forman looked angry and was carrying a sack over his shoulder.

  “Where the hell’s Shaun?” he grumbled as he passed Andrew’s hiding place. Andrew was in a fever of worry by this, wishing he hadn’t been so foolish to come to such a place on his own. ‘No-one knows where I am!’ he thought. He also noted that all three of the bullies were wearing sheath knives on their belts.

  Forman went past, then Troy. Andrew could see their boots through the bush. Then Jay came walking past. For some reason he paused and looked down. Andrew glanced up and his eyes met the astonished gaze of the bully. Jay’s mouth sagged open. He started to yell. Andrew didn’t wait. He sprang up and pushed hard at Jay’s chest. The bully shouted and tried to dodge but wasn’t quick enough. He fell backwards into the long grass, dropping a sack he was carrying as he did.

  Andrew didn’t stop to watch. He bolted. Behind him he heard shouts of alarm and swearing. “It’s that bastard who hit me!” Forman yelled. “Catch the mongrel. Quick! Get him, before he blabs to the cops!”

  Fear lent Andrew speed. He fled along the path past the track leading to the secret beach- only to go sprawling as the trip wire snagged painfully at his right ankle. He fell heavily, landing on his hands and knees. As he did he felt a surge of panic. Shouts and the thud of running feet warned him that the bullies were in hot pursuit. Disregarding the pain in his ankle he scrambled to his feet and fled along the track.