Red Centre

by O.G. Gough

  Chris walked up behind her.

  “Look at this!” She put her hands on her hips. “This is one of the biggest problems we have around here. No respect.” She let out a sigh. “We’ll have to wait here until they get back so I can get them to move their shit.”

  Chris moved slightly forward into the camp, eyes wandering around the site. Who leaves their campsite like this? His gut was telling him something wasn’t right.

  ***

  Twilight. The sun just below the horizon. Reds and oranges exploded across the sky. Night was coming fast. Chris slapped his neck, scraping the remains of a dead mosquito off his hand. Thousands of crickets chirped amongst the trees. The temperature was dropping with nightfall approaching. Chris sat on the edge of the seat in Lisa’s truck—door open, looking out into the dark bushes. Lisa stretched back on the partly reclined driver’s seat, head resting against the headrest, her eyes closed. It had been a long, hot day.

  The high-pitched buzzing of another blood-sucking mosquito tormented Chris’ ear. Swiping at it, he quickly slammed the door closed for protection. He looked at his watch. Time was ticking. How long did he have to be out here? Chris pressed his face against the window, looking up into the night sky. The red was receding and blackness was starting to fill the void. Stars were beginning to twinkle.

  A small breeze started to blow. The leaves on the trees started to dance. Dust blew through the empty camp site. Loose parts of the tent flapped about in the wind.

  “Hey!” Chris nudged Lisa. She opened one eye to look at him. “How long you want to wait?”

  Lisa pressed the little light button on her digital watch to see the time. “A few more minutes. I have to get them to move their site.”

  “For the love of all that is good, just write them a friggin’ note.” Chris scratched the side of his neck. He wasn’t happy about this arrangement. He should never have come over here with her. What a waste of time. With every day wasted, the chances of finding Shawn alive lessened.

  He settled in to wait a little longer.

  ***

  Suddenly the truck rocked gently, as though someone had pushed the truck or dropped something in the bed. Chris sat up a little straighter, trying to see what caused the movement. Lisa also sat up, rubbing her eyes, staring out at the dim campsite.

  The sudden movement of a person making their way into the camp caught her attention.

  She tried to focus her eyes. “Good. They’re back.” She searched the seat next to her, looking for her small flashlight.

  Chris turned his attention to the site. Two figures moved around the camp. He leant forward to see them better. They were tall and slender. Silhouetted. A line formed on Chris’ forehead as he squinted to see them. He watched on for a moment—their movement strange. Unnatural.

  They seemed to be exploring. Investigating their surroundings.

  Lisa scooped her flashlight off the truck floor. She looked at Chris leaning into the windshield. His nose inches from the glass. Intense.

  Lisa’s hand reached up to open her door. Chris quickly reached across without looking, grabbing her arm. A gentle grab, like a father cautioning their child.

  Lisa looked down at his hand on her arm. Chris released his grip, realizing it was a little awkward. “Look.” He motioned with his head. Her eyes followed Chris’ movement, staring out at the campsite. She leaned close, slightly pressing on the steering wheel. She pressed harder to see, her chest bumping the horn. A loud, short honk shattered the silence and echoed throughout the site. Startled, the two figures quickly took cover behind nearby trees. Lisa turned on her headlights to identify them. The lights only cast more shadows onto the area, making it harder to see who was there.

  Lisa and Chris squinted to see if they could make out anything. For all they knew it was just some underfed kangaroos, rummaging about the camp.

  Lisa gripped her small flashlight, contemplating whether she should go out there. A chill ran down her spine.

  “Do you have a gun?” Chris asked, not taking his eyes off the site.

  Lisa looked over at him. “What? Why?”

  Chris looked back at her with concern in his eyes. His look unnerved her even more.

  Lisa slowly sat back in her seat. Without warning a gray face flashed outside her window. Her body instantly stiffened with fear, chills biting all over her body. Chris jumped, grabbing the dashboard with one hand. The image of that face instantly burnt into their minds—oversized, black, almond-shaped eyes; gray, shiny skin. As quickly as it was there, it disappeared back into the darkness. Only a split second glimpse. Chris and Lisa weren’t sure what they had just seen, but they were terrified.

  She gripped the flashlight against her chest, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Like a child terrified of the dark in her bedroom, she was too scared to look directly out the window, or to even move.

  Chris reacted quickly, lunging across her to lock the door. “GO! GO!” He shouted orders at her.

  The large engine turned over. It roared as Lisa tore backwards in the old four-by-four. She slammed the brakes, skidding to a stop, punched the accelerator and ripped a u-turn. Dust and small stones peppered the air as the back tires skidded in the loose gravel. Her body shook. Chris whipped his head back to see if he could catch sight of anything back at the site through the cloud of dust.

  The campsite was soon far behind them.

  “What was that?” Lisa gasped. Panicked. She glanced at the rear view mirror, hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white. “What. The. Hell. Was. That? Holy shit.”

  The four-by-four bounced over potholes and small mounds of dirt and rock as it ripped along the sandy road. Chris quickly secured the seat belt tight around his waist. They tossed about the cabin. The truck airborne with each mound, the shock absorbers taking a beating.

  The truck hit a large mound, twisting the vehicle to its side slightly. It smashed hard on three wheels. Chris’ head slammed against the window—fortunately not hard enough to crack the glass, or his head. He grabbed the side of his head to tend the pain.

  “Just don’t crash,” he said through clenched teeth, his eyes on the side mirror. A wake of dust trailed behind them in the darkness. He looked over at Lisa. Moist lines from tears streaked her pale cheeks, her eyes still tense, just like her driving. He reached across, resting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You can slow down now.”

  “I’m not going to stop until we reach civilization.” She stared straight ahead.

  Chris smiled. “It’s the Northern Territory; how far are you going to drive?”

  She shot a glare at him, not in the mood for sarcasm. Her foot eased off the gas slightly. Her eyes drifted to the rear-view mirror again. The tail lights cast a red glow on the clouds of dust trailing the four-by-four. Beyond that—the dark, empty void of night. She had often heard people share stories about things they had seen out here, like the old couple’s story the night before: lights in the dark, shapes in the sky, that short of shit. But this was the first time she had witnessed anything like this herself.

  Her eyes snapped back to the road, quickly swerving to dodge a pothole and upcoming mounds.

  Then a slight movement in the rear-view mirror drew her eyes back. “What the hell was that?” She was sure something moved in the back of the enclosed truck bed. It took her a second to process the information, but someone or something was in the back of the truck!

  “What?” Chris glanced back over his shoulder to see what she was looking at. The enclosed bed made it hard to see. “I don’t see anything.”

  Lisa sat up in her seat, stretching to get a higher angle from the mirror into the dark bed.

  Glancing back to where she was driving, all Lisa saw coming were roadside trees, the dirt road already curving, the truck still going straight. She pumped the brakes; the truck slid several feet on loose road. It stopped, the hood inches from smashing into the skinny, tall trees. Dust blanketed the four-by-four.

  Lisa slowly turned her head to look
at a rattled Chris. A chill swept over her entire body.

  Chris grabbed the flashlight and unlocked his door. Someone had to take a look. It was probably nothing anyway. At least, that was what he was telling himself. “It’s just some guys goofing off,” he said as he climbed out of the truck.

  The wind blew hard as Chris slowly stepped out onto the sandy road. His clothes wrapped his body, whipping in the wind. He clicked the flashlight on.

  The bright beam lit up the empty night and formed a lightsaber in the swirling dust. Chris’ heart pounded. He slammed the door closed. Lisa quickly slid across, locking the door behind him. She had fear in her eyes, almost tears. And she was supposed to be the ranger—the protector out here. He gave a small nod to say “it’ll be okay.” If this had been happening in the US, at least she would be packing some heat. But nope, not out here in the sunburnt country. With all the stories of strange lights out here, it wouldn’t hurt to be packing a couple of guns. Hell, even a .22 would be something of an insurance policy.

  He took a deep breath. His mind was racing. What to do? he thought.

  Chris took the flashlight in his right hand. He banged on the side of the fiberglass roof with his open left hand. “Hey, asshole! I’m coming for you. You better take off.” Chris waited to see if anyone would bolt down the road. You never knew. It could be some dumb ass who got drunk and found a place to sleep it off—like that fat-ass Roy.

  Chris leaned in close to the truck to see if he could hear anyone in there. Nothing. He took a small step toward the back. This is stupid. No one’s in there, he told himself. He inched forward a little further, then stopped. What if someone, or a wild animal, was in there? What was he going to do if there was?

  His heart beat more quickly. Rapid breaths. Nerves were getting the better of him.

  Lisa looked back, trying to see what Chris was doing. She could see he was still. Then he turned and came back to the door. She quickly unlocked it. He climbed in, slamming the door closed and locking it behind him. Lisa raised an eyebrow.

  Chris turned around, facing the small, rear window. “There’s nothing in there.” He placed the flashlight flush to the rear glass, clicked the light, and swept the bed of the truck with the light. The back window was dirty, covered in dust and muck. It was difficult to see into the bed. Chris leaned in close, trying to see. Lisa leaned in as well. Fog circles formed on the glass from their warm breath.

  A few small boxes and other tools—ax, shovel, rope—lay scattered around. No sign of a dumb ass. Although something could squeeze up in the corners against the bed wall, out of sight. Chris got up onto his knees. He really wanted to cover every inch of the bed, just to be sure. His forehead pressed to the cold glass, trying to see around the corners. Trying to see deep into every part. Then something shifted. “Shit.” Chris jumped, and so did Lisa. Maybe it was just a possum, or some little freak of nature getting out of the light. He wasn’t sure.

  “What?” Lisa grabbed his arm.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Still without a positive ID on anything, Chris moved the light around, changing his position. Suddenly a large, gray, open hand slapped the glass. Chris fell back against the dashboard out of shock, the flashlight dropping to the truck floor. Lisa screamed.

  Chris fumbled for the light, trying to compose himself. He felt cold air rush into the cabin. Lisa’s door wide open. Night invading his space. He caught sight of Lisa bolting into the darkness, overcome with fear. Chris watched as she disappeared into the night. Running blind. Shit.

  Chris groped again for the flashlight. He felt the truck shift, as though someone was rocking it—moving around in the bed.

  Finally snatching the flashlight he lit up the back of the truck again through the back window. A slender figure, one he had never seen before, slipped out the back of the truck. He could hear it moving on the gravel road around to the driver’s side. His eyes were drawn to the open door. Holy shit!

  Chris lunged, grabbing the door, slamming it shut and hammer-fisting the lock. The movement outside stopped. All was still. Just the blowing wind and the sound of Chris breathing hard, lowered in his seat, almost on the floor.

  He tightly gripped the light, shining it through the driver’s window, his mind racing. He didn’t want to look, but he had to. He had to know what was really out there. Was this just some sick, outback, hillbilly practical joke? Did they know about his son? And if it was a joke, someone was going to get a serious whoop ass. He could feel his fear turning to rage. He took two quick breaths. “ARRRGHHH!” he yelled, the scream so loud it ripped his throat raw.

  He clenched his fist, tucking in all his fingers, making a tight wrecking ball. “WHERE’S MY SON, MOTHER—”

  His war cry was dampened by the enclosed truck and whipping wind.

  Chris kicked open the door, ready for a fight. Adrenaline replaced fear. His flashlight searched for his enemy. The truck sat alone on the empty road, its headlights shining into the sparse trees. Chris spun around. No one was there. He ran around the truck, shining the light in the back and underneath. Nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  Isolation

  Lisa exploded through the trees, smashing branches and twigs, dodging in and out, only the moonlight to guide her way. Branches struck her body and face like thousands of tiny whips. Her bare arms and legs absorbing the punishment. As she pushed forward, a short, razor-sharp twig sliced her right cheek; adrenaline suppressed the sting. She pressed on. Gotta get away.

  She glanced over her shoulder, blood dripping down her cheek. Breathing hard, her lungs craved oxygen. Her body shook uncontrollably; every part trembled with fear.

  Hard dirt mounds tripped her. Stumbling, she braced herself as both hands skidded on rocks and sandy dirt. Wincing in pain she dusted grazed hands, which burned like fire.

  Summoning her last remaining energy, she climbed up a small, rocky embankment. Had to find a place to hide. To hide long enough to make sure it was safe. Her eyes glanced around in front of her.

  Just the open wilderness.

  She’d always loved nature. Even as a child she loved animals and the great outdoors. Never fearful of even the creepy crawlies. Other girls would be terrified by the spiders and snakes, but she was fascinated. She seemed to have a connection with them. However, now she found herself running from something she didn’t understand.

  She stopped to take a breath, get her bearings.

  Dry leaves crunched on the ground behind her. Someone walking? Hopefully Chris coming to find her. She spun to see what was there.

  Nothing.

  Her heart pounded, as if it would give away her position with its deep thumping. She tried to calm herself, taking a deep breath. She reminded herself that the adrenaline surging through her body, shaking her core, was there to help. It was the only thing she could do to get a grip. It worked, a bit.

  She reached into her pocket. A ranger always kept a Swiss army knife on them for all occasions. She fumbled with the knife, still looking up to scan the area, while trying to open the three-inch blade. Her shaking fingers couldn’t get the little blade out. Come on you bitch-of-a-bastard!

  Finally her nail caught the little slit and folded out the blade. She held the little knife in front, taking a fighting stance, ready to fight for her life. Her head moved from side to side, searching, waiting for the impending attack.

  The sound of movement felt as though it was all around her, as though something was circling, hiding amongst the trees, stalking her. Her body naturally followed the movement, to face whatever it was head on.

  The movement stopped. The predator yet to show itself. Her eyes darted around; she held her breath. It seemed eerily quiet. Not even the crickets were chirping, as though all of nature was lying low, disturbed by this unknown visitor.

  Air slowly escaped from her partly opened mouth as she exhaled. She breathed in again through her nose, filling her lungs; out through the mouth, trying to calm herself. She repositioned her fingers around
her knife. Sweaty palms made the small knife slippery. A chill ran up her back, down her arms to her fingertips and over her head. Her arms felt heavy and weak, as if they would fail her if she had to use them. Fear gripped her body as the creature came into view, its slender frame silhouetted in the moonlight. It stood maybe six feet tall. Its lean build was that of an extreme athlete. Its black, oversized, almond-shaped eyes glistened in the blue light. Darkness made it hard to see its strange face, but it appeared to have a very small mouth; a couple of holes for a nose.

  It slowly advanced toward her, head slightly turned as though it was examining her. She froze, wanting to run, but unable to. She could see it better now—not that she wanted to—its gray skin the look of rubber. It had what appeared to be a skin-tight bodysuit over its slim body, covering its arms to the wrists and to the end of its toes. Its movement very calculated and unnatural—between human and machine. Its arms moved with the same corresponding leg as it walked.

  Tears threatened again to fill Lisa’s eyes, but she refused to let them come. It was all surreal. It was all too much. She felt a confused mix of curiosity and fear. Fear dominated. Her chest thumped from a pounding heart; every breath rapid; almost hyperventilating.

  She gripped the knife, her only defense.

  She didn’t know whether she could face this strange creature, or would she just crumble and drop the knife?

  With seconds to spare, she made a decision: run!

  Turning to run, her ankle twisted and crunched. Lisa swallowed her scream and stumbled to the ground, the blade tumbling across the dry ground. The wind knocked out of her, she lay face down in the dirt, the knife just a few feet from her fingertips. She could hear the creature getting closer. She turned over to look back, her hand searching, searching for anything to grab—a rock, a branch, dirt! She clenched a small branch, tossing it aimlessly toward the advancing freak. A useless but desperate effort.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “Stay away from me!” she screamed, pleaded.

  The creature continued, ignorant of her plea. Ignorant or deaf.

  “STAY. BACK!” She screeched out each word at the top of her lungs. It continued to advance, almost in reaching distance. Rolling over she dragged herself along the ground toward the knife. She clutched it, along with dirt. Adrenaline primed her body, ready to defend itself. But just as she was about to whip her body around with a screaming slash—