Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

Suddenly Andrew halted and held his hand up. Voices! People were coming. He heard a girl’s voice. A quick glance around showed there was no time to hide. On the left was a steep up-slope topped by a thicket of thorn bushes and trees. On the right was the belt of tall reeds fringing the river.

  Suddenly a small boy about seven or eight years old on a bicycle appeared around the bend in the track. The track wound around a large tree draped with a creeper so the boy did not see them until he was only a couple of paces away. He skidded to a stop, mouth open in alarm. Close on his heels came six more young children: three boys and three girls. Some of the girls looked older and the whole group gave the impression of being of the ‘big sister- little brother’ type. They all crowded to a stop at the tree and stared at the three boys.

  From the expressions on their faces Andrew deduced they were afraid of something. He said: “You kids look guilty. What have you been up to?”

  This produced instant denials. “Nothing.” “We are just riding along the track.” “We didn’t do anything.”

  This confirmed Andrew’s suspicions and he asked: “Have you kids seen any of the gang who call themselves the Killer Turtles?”

  At that a look of real alarm crossed most of the children’s faces. Several glanced nervously back over their shoulders.

  One said: “No.” Another added: “Back there.”

  An older girl looked angrily at the little boy who had said ‘Back there’. Andrew had to suppress a smile. He said: “It’s alright. We aren’t their friends. We want to know where they are camped. We won’t hurt you.”

  At that the children relaxed a little but they still regarded them with suspicion. “Who are you?” the oldest looking girl asked.

  Andrew did not answer. Instead he asked: “Where are they camped?”

  One of the little boys, wide-eyed with fright, pointed back and said: “They’se got a hideout just back there. It’s real hard to find if ya don’t know where to look.”

  The girl snapped at him: “Shut up Jason!”

  Andrew smiled at her. “It’s alright. We are friendly. We just want to know where to find them. We won’t tell on you. How do we find this hideout?”

  The girl eyed him suspiciously, then said: “You have to climb along a branch, then find a rope, then it goes off through a lot of grass ‘n stuff in under some big trees beside the river.”

  “An’ they’se got booby traps an’ a voodoo doll to kill yer!” added another small boy.

  “What sort of booby traps?” Andrew asked.

  The girl shrugged. “Dunno. We ain’t been in there. Other kids told us they got shotguns attached to trip wires, and deep pits with spikes in ‘em.”

  Andrew nodded. He pointed to the scab on his calf. “I believe that. I got this from a sharp stick they put in the water near one of their camps.”

  The kids were mightily impressed by this and he had to describe the incident in some detail. The kids nodded. “We heard about that from Rat,” the girl added.

  “Do you know Rat?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. Was you there when Maggot got drownded?” the girl asked.

  Andrew felt a wave of horror at the memory. He nodded. “We saw him drown. I swam out to try to find him.”

  That incident had to be described too. The kids were fascinated by all the grisly details. Andrew then steered the conversation back to the gang. “Have they got any other hideouts, or is this the only one?”

  One little boy piped up: “They are supposed to have another one further up the river.”

  “Where?”

  The oldest girl shrugged. “Dunno. We ain’t been up there. We never go up past the Black Weir,” she replied.

  “Why not?” Andrew asked.

  The girl looked anxious, then said: “’Cause that’s Sheena’s territory.”

  “Who is Sheena?” Andrew asked, his curiosity aroused.

  “A girl who leads another gang,” the oldest girl replied. Andrew pressed her for more details but she wouldn’t say and all the other kids looked very worried and would not speak.

  The oldest girl looked anxious. “You don’t want to go into Sheena’s territory. They don’t like trespassers.”

  A boy of about 8 or 9 nodded. “That’s right. They run around in the nuddy and do rude things an’ if they catch ya they strip ya and tie ya to a tree and torture ya. I heard they put green ants on ya.”

  The oldest girl turned angrily on him. “Be quiet Neville! Where did you hear that?”

  “From the kids at school,” Neville replied defensively.

  Andrew was amazed. This river seemed to be a territory where children had their own little sub-culture. It reminded him of two gangs he had heard about in Cairns who were fighting over the cemetery area.

  After a few more questions he returned to the location of the hideout along this track. “How do we find it?”

  The older girl looked very worried. “You won’t say we told you?”

  “Of course not!” Andrew replied indignantly.

  The girl looked dubious but then said: “There’s a big tree with low branches. The track turns and goes up the bank at that point. Their secret track goes off there along one of the tree branches.”

  The smallest boy nodded vigorously. “You gotta watch out for the poison dolls!” he piped up.

  “Poison dolls?” Andrew queried.

  The oldest girl nodded. “There is a little skull pinned to a tree, as a warning not to go in; and some dolls with steel darts through them.”

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. He thought the gang was just using superstition and fear to protect their hideout but it still worried him. He asked: “Have you seen any of the gang today?”

  One of the other girls nodded. “We seen ‘em over near ‘The Willows’ a while ago. They walked across the weir.”

  Andrew felt a stab of concern. “The Willows? Do you mean the shopping centre?”

  “Yes,” the oldest girl answered.

  “Where is it? How far?” he asked, worry for Carmen and Letitia’s safety making him deeply anxious.

  “A coupla blocks further along Ross River Road from the Weir School,” the older girl answered.

  “Where’s that?” Andrew asked.

  The oldest girl pointed upstream. “Just along that way a bit at the weir,” she explained.

  “The Black Weir?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. The one near the Weir School,” the oldest girl confirmed.

  “Which ones?” Andrew asked.

  The girl shrugged. “Dunno their names. Three of ‘em,” she replied.

  “Are there any of them at this hideout?”

  The girl shrugged again. “Dunno. We didn’t go in. We just raced past. That’s why we was goin’ so fast,” she said.

  Andrew turned to his friends. “Carmen and Letitia have gone to ‘The Willows’. I hope they don’t run into the gang.”

  Martin at once looked worried. “Do you think we should go to warn them?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes. But we will just check out this camp quickly on the way.”

  The children were not able to add any information so Andrew thanked them and stood aside. Mark and Martin did likewise. The children were still afraid to come within arms reach but they plucked up the courage and walked or pedalled past as quickly as they could and hurried on along the track.

  As they vanished around the next bend Andrew turned to his friends. “Well, that was interesting. Let’s go and find this secret hideout and then go and make sure the girls are safe.” He slapped at a mosquito and started walking on along the track.

  CHAPTER 20

  DAMN!

  As he walked, Andrew broke into a sweat. He knew he was frightened but there was no way that he was going to let Mark or Martin know that. And there was the nagging worry about whether Carmen and Jill were safe. ‘We need to go fast,’ he told himself.

  But that was hard to do when every other instinct was to creep cautiously along. Andrew wiped sweaty palms on his shorts an
d brushed away several mosquitoes which had taken the opportunity to latch on for a feed. The other two boys followed close behind, Mark grim faced and determined, Martin looking anxious.

  A hundred paces brought them to where the track abruptly turned and went up onto the top of the bank again. At this point a wide spreading cottonwood tree grew beside the track. On the right was a huge thicket of thorn bushes, shrubs and tall reeds. Andrew knew that the river had to be out that way somewhere but the reeds were well over head height and he could not see how far.

  His heart beating fast he slowed and studied the track and the tree. The track was wet sand and mud, deeply rutted and trampled. Numerous footprints, boot prints and wheel tracks showed. After a moment’s scrutiny Andrew pointed to a boot print at right angles beside the tree. He moved closer and studied the thick branch which grew out beside the track. The bark on top was bruised and smooth.

  “I think this is it,” he said.

  “What will we do now?” Mark asked.

  Martin joined them. “We should go and make sure the girls are safe,” he whispered.

  Andrew nodded. “You are right but I’m going to have a quick look,” he replied.

  Martin looked anxious. “What about the booby traps?”

  Andrew gave a shrug. “I think they are just fairy stories to scare little kids,” he answered.

  “What if they aren’t?” Martin persisted.

  “I will go slow. We know to look so we should detect them, if there are any,” Andrew replied. He felt so frightened inside that his stomach went queasy but he wasn’t going to back out now.

  Mark looked anxiously on along the track. “What if they come back?” he said. “We will get caught in there.”

  Andrew nodded. Instant flashbacks to just that during his previous experience on the island sent his heart rate shooting right up. “I tell you what. You two keep watch while I sneak in for a look. Mark, you go further along this track for about fifty paces and Martin, you go back that way a bit. If you see or hear anyone run back and warn me.”

  “How?”

  “Call out or whistle,” Andrew said. He slapped another mosquito and wiped sweat from his eyes. “Go on!”

  Reluctantly the other two did as he ordered. As soon as he was satisfied they were in position Andrew carefully climbed up onto the branch. It was easy to walk along as it was almost horizontal and there were other branches to hold on to for balance. He made his way in to the trunk, then stepped across onto another horizontal branch which grew off the other side. The top surface of this was also bruised and scuffed.

  As he transferred his weight Andrew saw the skull. He froze in fright, remembering the stories of booby traps. The skull was about the size of an orange and was nailed to the back of the tree trunk. Then he saw that it was made of plastic. The nail was driven in through one eye socket and a trickle of red paint led down from it to look like blood. From a distance it looked very realistic. Andrew gave a grim smile and nodded. Yes, that would put the wind up little kids.

  ‘In fact, it’s put the wind up me,’ he thought. He looked carefully around for any signs indicating booby traps but could see nothing. He then made his way out along the other branch. This led into the edge of the reeds. Here he paused and looked around again. The reeds were about four or five metres high; dry, brown stalks like young bamboo. The reeds were brittle and rustled in the breeze. No obvious track led off through them.

  Andrew looked up. Ah! The cunning buggers! A rope led off from a branch higher up across the top of the reeds in the direction of a much larger tree whose thick green canopy was visible about ten metres away. After listening for a few seconds Andrew climbed up and grabbed the rope. It was strong, nylon stuff but he wasn’t impressed by the tangle that passed for a knot.

  “They should have been navy cadets,” he muttered. One of the skills he had been taught as a cadet was how to climb along a rope. Now he used that knowledge. He lifted himself so that he lay out along the top of the rope with one leg hanging straight for balance and the other bent and hooked over the top of the rope. He was then able to haul himself along the rope without having to worry about his arms being strong enough to support his weight. Because he wasn’t depending on the strength of his arms to hold him up he could also stop to look ahead and to listen, a distinct advantage as he felt very exposed and vulnerable.

  It took him two minutes to slide painfully along the rope to where it was fastened to the trunk of a large tree. This had wide-spreading branches which shaded a large area of swampy ground. No undergrowth grew under it but there was a matt of soggy leaf-litter. Nailed to the trunk above the knot which secured the rope was a child’s doll with more fake blood ‘trickling’ down its stomach. Andrew eyed it with wry amusement, then rested in a fork for a minute to get his breath and to listen. Hearing nothing he climbed down and set off along a faint footpad which led off over low rise towards more large trees.

  As soon as he crested the low rise he heard the voices. That made him stop and search anxiously in all directions, seeking for a hiding place or escape route if that was needed. The voices came again, from over another low rise in under the large trees ahead. Jeering laughter carried on the wind above the rustle of the reeds and sighing of the leaves.

  Cautiously Andrew crept forward, eyes searching for traps and pits. There was a well worn track beside which was a litter of paper, tins and unburied turds. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and continued carefully on. After a minutes cautious scouting he crept up behind another large tree and peered around it.

  It was the hideout.

  No doubt about it. Under a grove of the large trees was a clearing about ten metres wide. Beyond it was a wall of reeds. In the centre of the clearing was a fireplace surrounded by half a dozen chairs. The chairs had a familiar ‘Education Department’ look about them. ‘Stolen from the Primary School across the river,’ Andrew surmised. Sitting on two of these were Troy and Drew. They were drinking beer from cans, a litter of ‘empties’ around them indicating they were not the first. Nearby were two tents and a scatter of camping equipment. The whole area stank of urine and unburied shit. Andrew again wrinkled his nose in disgust as several unburied turds lay around the bottom of the tree he was hiding behind.

  Troy suddenly laughed aloud at some joke of Drew’s. Andrew looked anxiously around in case more of the gang were in the area. He studied the edge of the clearing for other tracks. The only one he thought he could detect was in the reeds beyond the camp. ‘I’ll bet that goes to the river,’ he surmised. The gang would have their canoes handy.

  It was apparent that both Troy and Drew were more than half drunk. Andrew watched for a few more minutes. ‘I’d better not stay too long. If the others are across the river they could come back at any minute and we need to get moving to check on Carmen and Letitia,’ he thought.

  Careful to make no noise h he crept back the way he had come and quickly climbed the tree and slid back along the rope. Within three minutes he was back out on the trail bike track. He dropped down into the mud and trotted back till he found Martin.

  Martin was crouched behind a bush. He looked back nervously over his shoulder at the sound of Andrew’s approach. “Did you find it?”

  Andrew nodded. “Yes I did. Come on. Let’s collect Mark and get out of here.” He turned and led the way back to the tree and then on up the bank past it. Mark was standing on top, hopping restlessly from one foot to the other. He jumped with fright as the pair came quickly around the bend in the track. This was at a point where another trail bike track came in on the left rear from along the top of the bank. Ahead the undergrowth was a mixture of large thorn trees and a tangle of burrs and reeds.

  “I’m glad you came,” Mark said. “I saw three blokes in black T-shirts cross over the weir a few minutes ago and I was just about to come back and call you.” He pointed upstream to where part of the Black Weir was visible through a gap in the scrub.

  Andrew looked at it, noting with surprise that it w
as even higher than Aplins Weir. A film of water was flowing over the top. “Alright, let’s get... Ssh! Someone coming!” he said.

  Even as he did there was movement along the track in the direction of the Black Weir and three figures came hurrying around the bend into view. Andrew’s heart turned over in fear and his stomach went tight.

  Forman, Jay and Shaun!

  The three thugs came to a surprised stop about twenty paces away. The astonished look on Forman’s face turned swiftly to anger. “You nosy bastards again!” he snarled. His fingers curled into fists and he placed them belligerently on his hips.

  Andrew’s mind raced. What to do? For an instant he toyed with trying to capture the three but just as quickly rejected this. ‘There are three of them; and when we start a fight they will call out and the other two will come running!’ he reasoned.

  Mark nudged him and whispered: “What will we do?”

  It stuck in Andrew’s gullet to say it but he hissed: “Get out of here. We can’t fight them and hope to win. They have knives and there are two more back in the camp. Just turn around and start walking.”

  “But..”

  “Go!”

  As Andrew snapped this Forman recovered and snarled: “What are you jerks doin’ here?”

  “Just walking along the river,” Andrew replied. He was breathing fast and sweating and tried hard to keep any quaver out of his voice.

  Forman looked suspicious. “Clear off, you little shits! This is our territory. Get going before we beat you to pulp!”

  Andrew reluctantly turned his back on the thugs and urged Mark and Martin to do likewise. He could feel fear building up and he had an urge to run which it took a real effort of will to resist.

  “Start walking!” he hissed. “Take the track out into the open country.”

  Martin did so but Mark was reluctant. Andrew shoved at him.

  At that Jay yelled at them: “Yeah! That’s right, ya gutless shits. Run like the cowards ya are!”

  Mark’s face suffused with fury. “Like you did yesterday!” he retorted.

  Andrew again shoved him. “Cut it Mark. We can’t win a fight. Go!”