Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

  “Nobody been down here but us,” the boy holding the jar replied.

  “You sure? They ran down the bank near there,” Andrew said, pointing back up the gravel road.

  Both young boys shook their heads and looked worried. Both stared at Andrew. “We ain’t seen no-one,” one answered.

  “Andrew pointed downstream. “Did anyone go along the bank that way?”

  “Nup!. No-one. We woulda’ heard ‘em, even if we didn’ see ‘em,” replied the boy holding the tortoise and the net. Andrew studied the river bank downstream of the weir. It was all long grass, mostly blady grass full of sensitive weed, or guinea grass. This extended along the bank as far as he could see in a belt about twenty metres wide. The grass spread right down to merge with the reeds and floating lilies on the waters edge.

  ‘Anyone running along there would have made a track like an elephant,’ he reasoned. There was no sign of any trampled grass. He looked upstream. The two boys studied him with worried eyes. The one with the jar asked: “You been in a fight?”

  “Yes. With three kids a bit older than me. They were wearing black T-shirts and one of them had no pants on,” Andrew replied. He described the bullies. A look of obvious fear crossed the boy’s faces.

  “They must be the ‘Killer Turtles’,” the one with the net said.

  “Killer Turtles!” Andrew cried in astonishment. It had never occurred to him that the bullies might be a gang with a name. “They just tried to rape a girl up there,” he explained.

  The two boys looked astonished. The one with the net said: “You got blood all over yer face.”

  Andrew nodded. “They hit me.” He turned to go, then turned back. “You kids should let those tortoises go.”

  The boys looked anxious. The one with the jar held it up. Three baby tortoises with shells only about the size of 50 cent pieces were swimming around trying to get out.

  “We been fishin’ for these turtles all morning,” the boy said.

  “Tortoises,” Andrew corrected.

  “They’se turtles,” the boy replied.

  Andrew shook his head. “No, tortoises. Turtles have flippers, not legs,” he replied. He didn’t stay to continue the argument but set off running off along the bank upstream. Almost at once he detected a track of flattened grass leading off along below the bank below the other road which curved down from the end of street. This track was obviously well used.

  ‘The local kids keep it trampled,’ Andrew decided. He raced along it, heedless of the possibility of stepping on a snake. The bank curved slowly to the right and became steeper as he went along it. After about a hundred paces he was below the first house above where the road curved up. Here the track angled down to the edge of the water and ended.

  Andrew ran to the water’s edge. As he did he saw a large tortoise dive and swim for cover, leaving a swirl of murk in the black water. Andrew stopped and looked along the river, hoping to see the bullies’ canoes. The surface of the river registered several ducks and a swan but no boats or canoes of any sort. Once again Andrew cast around. He noted that the river bank became almost vertical and curved into a small bay. A faint track led into it so he ran that way, only to find himself confronted by a deep creek about five metres wide which came out of a stormwater drain. The drain was nearly full, only a metre of blackness showing between the roof and the surface of the water.

  Another faint trail led up the almost vertical slope through long grass and wild pumpkins to the back of a house. Andrew scrambled up it, slipping and cutting his hands several times on blady grass. He arrived at the back fence of the house and had to pause to recover his breath as his chest was heaving and sweat was running into his eyes. The wound in his leg was also beginning to hurt.

  The track led across the edge of the steep slope above the drain and then down to where the river bank sloped gently down to the water again. This was the back yard of the next house and the bank had a park-like appearance: the grass was mowed short and was studded with large paperbark trees which gave it shade. Andrew scrambled across the top of the drain, grabbing at the fence when necessary. Then he ran down onto the grassy back yard.

  The next section of river bank was easy to follow and he saw that flights of stone steps and concrete paths led down from the backs of all the houses to tiny jetties on the waters edge. As Andrew ran along a man appeared from among a rock garden on the slope.

  “Hey you! You are trespassing!” the man bawled at him angrily.

  Andrew skidded to a stop and stood, chest heaving. He tried to explain but only a strangled gasp came out. He panted for a moment to recover his breath, then asked: “Have you seen three teenage youths come running along here?”

  “No. Nobody has been along here all morning,” the man replied. “Who are you and what are you doing here? This is private property.”

  Andrew walked over to the man. “Sorry. I was chasing three blokes who just tried to rape a girl. They ran down over the river bank back there near the weir but I lost them then.”

  “Rape! Three youths. When?” The man asked.

  “About five minutes ago I suppose,” Andrew replied. He had lost track of time. He quickly explained the situation and described the three bullies.

  The man nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen them. They go past in canoes sometimes and I think they have a hideout across the river there.” He pointed to the far bank. Andrew turned to study the other bank. It was fringed with reeds and lilies. Beyond that was a real jungle of trees, long grass and vines. ‘Yes, that would make a good hideout,’ he thought.

  The man continued: “No-one has come past here. I have been in the garden for hours.”

  “Would you mind calling the police?” Andrew asked.

  The man’s eyebrows went up. “Yes. I was just thinking of doing that.”

  “Where could they have gone?” Andrew wondered aloud. “They didn’t go downstream. There were some kids there and I asked them.” Once again he studied the river but there was no sign of any craft, or of any life other than the waterfowl. Nearby a tortoise stuck its head out to take a breath, then dived, leaving a small circular ripple to mark the spot.

  ‘Turtles!’ Andrew thought. ‘The gang are the “Killer Turtles”. I wonder if they are like “Ninja Turtles”?’ He turned and looked back the way he had come. “The drain!” he cried. He ran back towards it.

  He could not get near the drain from that side without pushing through waist-high grass so he scrambled back up the bank and made his way back to the other side. As he slithered down through the entangling vines of a pumpkin plant growing wild on the slope he eyed the entrance of the drain as it came into view.

  Ordinarily the entrance would have been obscured by tall grass and reeds but floodwater gushing out of the drain had laid this flat. Muddy, brown water was flowing out to mingle with the black water of the river in the small creek below him. Now that he went slow and looked carefully Andrew detected that the grass leading to the entrance had been crushed recently. The entrance to the drain he estimated to be just large enough for a stooping person to walk along, although only about a metre was showing above the water.

  Heedless of the grass and of getting wet Andrew slipped into the creek and waded slowly forward. The water got deeper at every step and soon he was chest deep. He kept moving until he reached the end of the drain and could grasp the concrete pipe. The current was just strong enough to make it difficult to push against. Carefully he peered into the drain but inside was total blackness.

  ‘They could have gone in there,’ Andrew conceded. But only if they knew where it led. ‘And only if they had plenty of guts!’ Images of what might lurk in the drain crowded his imagination: snakes, crocodiles, toads, rats, cockroaches. He shuddered and did not enter.

  “Hey you!”

  Andrew turned. A policeman stood in the long grass a few metres away, on the track he had followed.

  Andrew pointed into the drain. “I think they might have gone in here,” he replied.
/>   “Are you Andrew?” the policeman, a sergeant, asked.

  “Yes I am.”

  “Why do you say that?” the sergeant asked.

  Andrew waded back to the bank and crawled out. The swamp water drained off him and he shivered as the wind found him. He explained the chase and how the three had vanished.

  The police sergeant nodded. “Yes. I just spoke to two grubby little urchins back there who said the same.”

  “Two boys with tortoises?” Andrew asked.

  The sergeant grinned. “Yes. They looked mighty guilty about those tortoises and tried to hide them. They said they were only taking them home to show their mums and would then let them go.”

  “I hope you told them to,” Andrew said.

  “I did. OK, come up to the car with me and we will try to track these characters.” the sergeant said.

  “Is Jill alright?” Andrew asked as they walked back along the track.

  “Yes. You got there just in time.”

  ‘Thank God for that!’ Andrew thought. He offered a silent prayer of thanks.

  At the top of the bank was a police car with a female constable in it. The sergeant, Sgt Bailey the woman constable called him, took the radio and spoke for some time. He moved two other cars to watch the nearby streets, then said: “And call the council and tell them to get someone here who has a map of the drains. We don’t know how many there are or where they go.” Sgt Bailey then looked around before again taking up the radio. “And get some dogs here to help us search the long grass, he added.”

  Sgt Bailey then put down the radio and turned to Andrew: “You’d better come back to the Cooper’s and let the ambulance people fix you up. You look as though you’ve been in the wars.”

  He left the female constable there to watch the river bank and made Andrew get into the car. “Don’t worry about your wet clothes. We get a lot worse than that in here,” the sergeant said.

  Three minutes later Andrew climbed out at Jill’s. As he did a car pulled up and Jill’s father and mother jumped out. The sergeant did the explaining as they made their way to the door. Andrew stopped there, conscious of the swamp water dripping off his soaked clothes. The sergeant called a paramedic from inside.

  It was the same one. He made a face and grinned. “You again! I might have known. Andrew Collins, right?”

  Andrew blushed and nodded. He was seated on the front porch and the paramedic wiped his cuts and scratches and daubed them with disinfectant. “You’d better see a doctor to have a look at that head of yours, then go home and have a hot shower and put more antiseptic on these scratches,” he advised.

  Carmen and Mark came out. Carmen shook her head. “Andrew! You are getting beaten to death!”

  “I’m OK,” he replied, even though he actually felt very sore and a bit dizzy. “How’s Jill?”

  “Shocked and very upset, but otherwise OK. We made it in time,” Carmen explained.

  “What happened?” Mark asked.

  Andrew recounted the chase, and his theory that the bullies had escaped along the flooded drain. “I don’t see where else they could have gone,” he concluded.

  “Could have just hidden in all that long grass,” Mark said gloomily.

  “No. I didn’t see any tracks, and I looked,” Andrew replied.

  “’Killer Turtles’ eh?” Carmen said. She shook her head sadly.

  At that moment Mr Cooper came out. The story had to be recounted again. When Andrew finished the paramedic interrupted to say: “This young fella should get home and out of these wet clothes or he’ll get sick.”

  Mr Cooper nodded and said: “You come in young Collins and get those wet clothes off. Come on. Never mind the carpet. Into the shower.”

  Andrew was led inside and shown to the bathroom. As he passed a bedroom he noted a tearful Mrs Cooper and a female paramedic leaning over Jill in her bed. In the shower he stripped and enjoyed the bliss of another hot shower, tempered by the stinging of his cuts and scratches. The wound in his leg really hurt and he looked carefully at it but it did not appear to be bleeding. His clothes were taken out by Carmen and a dressing gown passed to him. This was Mr Cooper’s and he felt very self-conscious in it.

  When he went out to the lounge room the paramedics had departed. Mr Cooper, Sgt Bailey, Carmen and Mark were there. The sergeant asked them to be seated, then noted down all their stories. Mr Cooper was amazed and very angry. That made Andrew feel very uncomfortable as it was obvious he thought that Jill would not have been in any danger if she had not been with them.

  Carmen was very indignant. “How come that Troy is walking around? Wasn’t he arrested yesterday?”

  Sgt Bailey made a wry face. “Yes he was. But there was insufficient proof and he was released.”

  “Well there is proof this time!” Carmen cried angrily. “They can be charged with attempted rape can’t they?”

  Maybe. But how are you going to positively identify them if the were wearing balaclavas?” Sgt Bailey said.

  That was a tricky one. Andrew replied that he identified their voices but Sgt Bailey shook his head. “I doubt if that is enough.”

  Carmen shook her head. “But what about forensic evidence? You have that thug’s pants and there might be hairs and ..er.. and other stuff the experts can analyse.”

  Sgt Bailey nodded. “Yes. We will get the forensic team onto it. But even so I’d say all we can get them on might be for ‘Indecent Assault’, and for ‘Indecent Exposure’, but that is all,” he replied.

  Carmen was indignant. “What about ‘Breaking and Entering’?” she asked.

  Sgt Bailey shook his head. “No. Jill say’s she opened the door to them. They then pushed inside. ‘Trespassing’ or ‘Entering a dwelling with intent’ will be about all, and I doubt if it would be considered.”

  “What about assault on Andrew?” Carmen persisted.

  “Maybe. But they will say it was just a scuffle between boys and I doubt if the magistrate would bother with it.”

  Andrew was annoyed too. “Didn’t you find stolen goods at their camp on the island?” he asked.

  “Yes, but they won’t amount to much as a charge, and then only against one or two of them,” Sgt Bailey replied.

  “So they will get away again!” Carmen cried angrily.

  “No. But first we have to catch them. At least now they are wanted for something more serious so we will make a big effort,” Sgt Bailey replied. “We have five cars and the dog squad searching the area now,” he added. “They can’t have gone too far. Besides, the one without any pants will be fairly conspicuous.”

  That raised a laugh. “He looked so funny running away,” Carmen chuckled.

  “And one of them left his joggers here too,” Sgt Bailey added.

  Andrew asked what would happen next. Sgt Bailey replied: “We will check all their homes and those of their known associates and friends, though we don’t hold out much hope there as none of the boys has been seen by their parents for the last three days.”

  “Have they run away from home?” Carmen asked.

  “It looks like it.”

  “But they must be living somewhere!” Carmen insisted.

  “Obviously. We have information that points to a house in Rasmussen which we are placing under surveillance,” Sgt Bailey replied.

  “I reckon they live in a camp along the river,” Andrew said.

  “I doubt it,” Sgt Bailey said. “That wouldn’t be much fun in this wet weather, what with all the mozzies and rain.” He clearly did not believe the idea.

  “So what do you want us to do now?” Carmen asked.

  “You will all have to come to the station to make full statements today or tomorrow.”

  ‘Oh no!’ Andrew thought. ‘Aunty Bev and Uncle Mel will hit the roof!’

  Sgt Bailey took his leave and departed. Mrs Cooper came out and offered them hot drinks. She was visibly shaken. However she did not appear to blame them for the trouble and thanked them for saving Jill.

&n
bsp; “She would like to thank you herself,” she added. They made their way into Jill’s room. She looked very pale but calm. She took Mark’s hand and smiled up at him. Andrew felt very self-conscious and blushed when Jill expressed her horror at his bruises and cuts.

  What worried Andrew now was Jill’s safety. “What if the gang come back?” he asked.

  “It is alright. Mum is going to stay home for a few days and I am not allowed to go out till the gang is arrested,” Jill replied.

  That gave Andrew more horrible fears. “They might try to attack you too Car,” he suggested. “We’d better stick together.”

  “And Letitia,” Carmen added. “Oh dear! We should warn her.”

  She asked to use the phone and rang the Schipholl’s. Both Martin and Letitia were home and wondered why they had not arrived. When told the story they assured them they would keep together and said they would come over to Jill’s at once.

  The teenagers sat and talked, speculating on how the gang had escaped, and on how long it might take the police to catch them. Martin and Letitia arrived and were shown in to Jill. The story then had to be retold yet again. This led to more speculation.

  “I wonder where the other members of the gang are?” Mark said.

  “Shaun and Drew? Yes, I wondered that,” Andrew replied.

  “And those girls,” Carmen added.

  “I reckon they have another secret camp,” Andrew said.

  “Where?” Martin asked.

  “Across the river there,” Andrew pointed in the general direction of the weir. “A man told me he thought they had one there; and he said he often sees them paddling past in canoes.”

  “Have you told the police?” Letitia asked.

  “Yes, but they didn’t appear very interested. They are busy searching this side for the three who were here,” Andrew replied.