by Brett McBean
Ray spun around and shot Brian a piercing stare. “That’s not an option. I need at least one other person with me to locate and bring up the treasure. I’ll take Chris with me if I have to, but I’d rather it be you.”
“Why do you care so much about the damn treasure?” Brian said. “Sure it would’ve been nice to be rich, but that ain’t gonna happen now.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “All thanks to you, you dumb fucking Abo bitch! Thanks a lot for fucking us over for something we didn’t even do! We didn’t fucking kill you!” The shouting caused Brian to cough violently.
When he was finished, red bile dripped from his lips.
Jesus, Ray thought. Brian’s dying right before our eyes.
“What makes you think you would have gotten rich?” Chris remarked, and then, remembering, closed his eyes and shook his head.
Thanks a lot, Ray thought, glaring at Chris.
“What do you mean?” Brian said. To Ray: “What the fuck does he mean?”
Ray sighed. What did it matter now anyway? He would have to tell Brian eventually. Ray looked at Brian. Blood smeared his mouth. “I’ve been lying to you. There is no treasure; well, not the gold or diamonds type, anyway.”
Brian’s one real eye, dark and heavily wrinkled, squinted. “No treasure? You mean you brought me and Nathan out here for nothing? Nathan died for nothing? We’re all going to die for nothing?”
Ray had seen that look and heard that tone many times in Brian; it was always right before he exploded with a flurry of fists and kicks. But that kind of anger had always been directed at other people.
“You fuckin’ lied to us?” growled Brian.
“I had to lie,” Ray said. “You guys wouldn’t have come otherwise. But this treasure is important, more important than diamonds or gold. It could save Gemma’s life. You see, what’s lying at the bottom of the lake is, hopefully, a healing amulet.”
Brian’s nostrils flared; he looked like an old bull about to charge. “Healing amulet? What the fuck’s a healing amulet?”
“According to the legends, the girl had been wearing an amulet when she was thrown into the lake; some stone that’s supposed to contain incredible healing powers. Supposedly it can cure anything from a cold to a terminal disease. Isn’t that right?” he asked Chris.
Chris, eyes now open, nodded. “It was given to Ginnumarra by the local medicine man—apparently she was inflicted with some disease. Her people thought it was the spirit of a demon, so the medicine man gave her the amulet to rid her of the evil spirit.”
“I thought if I could get it, I might be able to save Gemma,” Ray finished, holding Brian’s gaze.
Some of Brian’s aggression had seeped away. “Nathan died because of some rock?” He shook his head. “Christ.”
“Well according to…”
“According to who?” Brian spat. “According to Sammy? According to this fuckin’ Abo? According to the internet? Fuck Ray, if you really believe some rock can cure Gemma’s cancer, then you’re dumber than Nathan ever was.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you,” Ray said. “I knew you would think it was all a load of shit. Well maybe it is, but I had to come and see for myself. I have to do everything I can to save my daughter, and if that means trekking through this godforsaken wilderness only to find there is no amulet, or that the amulet doesn’t have magical powers, then so be it. At least I tried.”
“Well fat lot of good it does you. Now you won’t get to spend what little time you had left with your daughter; you’ll be too busy lying dead in here.”
It was a cold, harsh thing for Brian to say; but it was the truth.
As much as Ray didn’t want to admit it, now it was out in the open, the fact that he would never see his family again hit him hard.
Ray had never cried in front of anyone before; not his wife, nor his kids; certainly not in front of any man. But he couldn’t help it this time.
He dropped to his knees, buried his head in his withered hands and wept.
He wept softly at first, but soon his crying snowballed into a ferocious outpouring of grief, grief that had been pent up inside him like a tightly coiled spring.
It was all his fault. Both Sammy and Chris had told him about the curse of Dead Tree Forest. Both had warned him not to go—told him it was a haunted place. But he ignored them and went anyway, and now he would never see Sharon, Tabby, Shaun and Gemma ever again. His youngest daughter was going to die without her daddy, wondering why he had abandoned her when she needed him the most. His whole family would think him a coward, someone who couldn’t take the pain of seeing one of his children succumb to the devil cancer, and so had left and never returned.
Ray cried long and hard. He only stopped when Chris said: “There might be a way of stopping the curse.”
Ray choked back the tears, wiped his face and gaped up at Chris. “How?”
Chris swallowed, winced and then licked his arid lips.
“Brian, get Chris a beer.”
Brian, who was standing closest to the Esky, said, “Fuck wastin’ a beer on this Abo.”
“Get him a fuckin’ beer,” Ray growled and with a deep sigh, Brian stepped over to the Esky, pulled off the lid and took out a can of beer. He walked over to Chris. “Here, enjoy,” Brian said and thrust the beer into Chris’s hand.
Chris popped open the can and took a long drink. He smiled thinly. “Much better.”
Ray struggled to his feet. “So, what’s the deal?” he said, eager to hear what Chris had to say.
“Well, as I said, I was speaking with my ancestors last night. And they reminded me of an old burial rite. It’s a tradition with Aboriginal tribes that when someone dies, their soul has to be given the proper send off. One way is to place the body inside a hollow tree or log, stand the log upright and then that person’s soul is able to ascend to heaven and be at peace. It’s called tree between heaven and earth. It’s better than trapping a soul inside a box in some hole in the ground, as the person’s spirit is able to roam free and visit loved ones to say their final goodbyes before moving on from this world.”
“What has that got to do with lifting the curse?” Ray asked.
“Maybe nothing,” Chris said. “But Ginnumarra wasn’t given a proper burial; her soul wasn’t able to move on from this world. She’s stuck between worlds. That’s why she’s able to curse this forest. But if she was given a proper send off, maybe that would lift the curse.”
Brian huffed and mumbled, “Fuckin’ Abo mumbo-jumbo.”
“You think that would work?”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s worth a try.” He took another gulp of beer.
“We’re never gonna make it to the lake,” Brian said. “So what’s the point in speculating about the proper send off and all of that shit?”
Ray turned and glared at Brian. “The point is we may as well try. I have to try and get that amulet and get it back to Gemma. I don’t give a shit if you think this is all bull, but saving Gemma isn’t. So are you with me or not? I’ll leave you here to rot if I have to—all that matters to me is Gemma.” Out of breath and feeling giddy, Ray closed his eyes and drew in deep breaths.
After a short silence, Brian said, “Okay, I’m with you. Hell, I’ve got nothing better to do, right?”
Ray opened his eyes. He turned to Chris. “You still wanna come? You don’t have to.”
“I’ll come,” Chris said. “I have a little girl, too.”
Ray nodded. “Okay, let’s pack up our shit and get going.”
* * *
Shortly after they set off Ginnumarra started crying.
She had been silent all night, and so far all morning. But now, not long into what was sure to be their final journey, her ghostly voice began weeping and wailing, floating through the trees like a haunted breeze.
Chris, Esky heavy in his hand, listened, and soon tears started creeping down his wrinkled cheeks.
Hopefully we can put an end to your suffer
ing.
As he trudged along, he glanced at the two men who only two nights ago had knocked him unconscious and then kidnapped him. Brian was walking with plodding steps and was breathing heavily; Ray, however, walked with purpose. His steps were still heavy, the rucksack on his back looked like it weighed about a thousand pounds, but his strong determination was keeping him going. Also, it appeared that he too was hearing Ginnumarra. He occasionally glanced up at the tree tops, eyes pooled with a mixture of fear and awe.
The three of them walked in silence for close to an hour. Then, like the dying of the wind, the crying started to fade before stopping altogether.
Chris and Ray stopped walking.
It took Brian a few steps before he noticed that both of his companions were no longer moving. He turned around. The wrinkles on his face were deeper, his hair now almost completely grey. “What is it?” he breathed.
“She’s stopped,” Ray said.
“Who has?”
“The crying, Ginnumarra.”
Ray faced Chris. His deep-set eyes were creased with worry. “What does it mean?”
Chris set down the Esky. “I think it means we’re heading in the wrong direction.”
“Wrong direction? What the hell are you two talking about?”
Brian even sounded older; his voice was weak, rusty, like someone who had been smoking for sixty years or more.
“I know you don’t hear her, but Ginnumarra’s been crying ever since we entered this forest.”
Chris noticed that his own voice sounded like his seventy-year-old uncle.
“Crying? You’re fuckin’ nuts.”
“He’s right,” Ray said. “I’ve heard it too.”
Brian huffed. “You’re serious?”
Ray nodded. “I guess I didn’t want to believe it, but I can’t ignore it. Her spirit is definitely here.”
“She’s been guiding us,” Chris said. “She wants us to find the lake. But we’ve gotten off course, so she’s stopped.”
“So what do we do?” Ray asked. “We can’t go back; we’d die within thirty seconds if we did that.”
“We try and get back on the right path. We were walking in the right direction for a while, but then we either veered left or right.” Chris turned around and gazed at the endless rows of dead trees. The forest looked the same no matter which way he turned. He sighed. “The problem is, I don’t remember; I was just concentrating on walking. Do either of you remember?”
Ray shook his head.
“Brian?”
Brian chuckled. “Great, so now we’re following a ghost through a fuckin’ dead forest? Perfect.”
“I guess that’s a no,” Ray said.
“I think the best thing to do is for you and Brian to head one way, and I’ll head in the other. Hopefully one of us will hear Ginnumarra’s voice again. Whoever does, stop and call out to the other. Sound like a plan?”
Ray nodded. “Me and Brian will head to the left, you go right?”
“Hey, I ain’t letting the Abo go off with the Esky. It’s still got some food and drink in it.”
“Never mind that,” Ray said. “Come on.”
“No, fuck that. Give the Abo the gym bag.”
“Chris,” Ray said. “His name is Chris.”
“Fine. Give me the Esky, and you take the gym bag...Chris.”
Chris thought: You fucking racist shit, as if I’d want to take any of your rotten beers and junk food. But he nodded, walked the short distance to Ray and dropped the Esky in front of him. Ray, looking old, handed Chris the bag. It was heavy and cumbersome.
“You happy now?” Ray said, picking up the Esky.
“Peachy,” Brian said, giving Chris the evil eye.
“Okay, let’s go. See you soon—hopefully.”
Chris watched as the two men started walking forward, but in a leftward direction. Chris also started walking, but headed towards the right. The gym bag was more awkward and heavier than the Esky.
Arsehole, he thought, but soon all thoughts about Brian left him and he concentrated on listening out for Ginnumarra.
* * *
“You really hearing some dead Abo’s voice?”
Ray was beginning to wish he was by himself. Brian was starting to get on his nerves. “Yes, I hear her,” Ray sighed as they trudged side-by-side through the woods. “Go on, laugh. I don’t give a shit any more whether you believe me or not. I just want to get to the lake and find the amulet.”
“Hey, doesn’t matter what I think. After all, you lied to me about why you wanted to come here, so why should I believe you about anything else?”
“Fuck man, we back to this? I thought I explained it to you: I needed manpower to help get the treasure, but I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you the truth. You would’ve laughed and told me to get fuckin’ real.”
“You think I’m that shallow? You think all I care about is money? You don’t think I care about Gemma too, and would’ve come if you had told me the truth?”
Ray glanced at Brian, now looking around sixty, maybe even older. His breathing was loud and harsh, his body shorter, more stooped. “You would’ve come even if you thought this whole legend was bogus?”
“Hell yeah. Jesus, it sounded like fun regardless of what lay at the bottom of the lake. The treasure was just the icing, man.”
Ray faced the front. “Well shit. I apologise then.”
“Doesn’t matter now. We’re both gonna die. Shit, I’m gonna miss Claire. What do you think our families will think happened to us?”
“I dunno,” Ray said, voice shaky. “I guess they’ll assume we got lost and froze to death.”
“If only they knew the truth.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, panting, legs feeling weaker with every step.
“Wonder how the Ab...Chris is doing. He wasn’t looking too good back there.”
Neither do you, Ray thought, but then he supposed he wasn’t looking his best either. Without a mirror, he had no idea what he actually looked like.
But maybe it was best he didn’t see himself.
Ray held up the hand that wasn’t holding the Esky; his skin was saggy with wrinkles and dotted with liver spots.
Knowing he was aging rapidly and seeing it happen were two very different beasts.
It was bad enough seeing his best friend aging before his eyes; he didn’t need to witness it happening to himself.
Ray lowered his hand.
Come on Ginnumarra. Where are you?
They walked through the deathly silent forest, their breathing the only sound. Brian’s was the loudest: a wet wheezy noise that made Ray think of a balloon filled with phlegm.
It’s all those damn cigarettes.
But his breathing didn’t sound much better.
Ray wasn’t sure how long they walked for; it felt like hours, but was probably only around twenty minutes. Ray feared they would never find the right path again, that Ginnumarra’s voice was lost forever and they would eventually get too old and collapse to the ground, dead.
And then get sucked into the earth, like Nathan and however many other poor souls had wandered into this forest, whether by chance or curiosity; sucked down into God knows where.
But then Ray’s ears twitched and through the heavy silence he heard the faint sound of a girl crying.
“I think I hear her,” Ray said, and was shocked to hear the old man that spoke.
Breathlessly, Brian said, “’Bout fuckin’ time.”
They trudged along in a straight line and the crying grew louder, like a great howling wind sweeping through the forest.
“We’re on the right track.” Ray stopped. He drew in a deep breath. “Chris!” he shouted. The shout was weak and raspy. “Chris, hey, we’ve found her!” His shouting didn’t echo, and he hoped Chris could hear him, wherever he was.
Out of breath, Ray turned to Brian. “I hope Chris...”
His friend of twenty-two years was on the ground.
Ray dropped the Esky and ste
pped over to where Brian lay. He shrugged off his rucksack and gritting through the pain in his old joints, knelt on the ground.
Brian was lying on his side, hands clutching at his chest.
Ray gently rolled Brian onto his back.
“Oh Christ,” Ray muttered.
He didn’t know what was more shocking: the frozen expression of pain on Brian’s face, or how old he looked. Age spots and wrinkles coated his saggy face and his whiskers were as white as his hair. His eyes were sunken and lifeless and his teeth, tucked inside his grimacing mouth, were yellow and black. He looked at least eighty.
Ray knew Brian was dead, yet he still went through the motions of shaking Brian’s body and begging him to wake up.
When he didn’t, Ray let out a shaky breath.
No tears flowed; he was either too tired or too drained of life to cry.
At least he went quickly.
Ray closed Brian’s eyes and was in the middle of pulling Brian’s hands from his chest when the body started melting.
Ray let go, struggled to his feet, and watched as Brian’s skin, flesh and bone dissolved. It was like watching fat bubble and melt over a fire, except instead of dripping and turning to liquid, Brian’s body seeped into the earth.
Soon only his jeans, shirt, backpack and glass eye were left.
Ray gazed down at the remnants in disbelief.
He stared at the dead soil for a good length of time, before a cry slapped him out of his daze.
“Ray!”
The voice was distant.
“Ray, Brian!”
“Over here!” Ray shouted.
Before Chris arrived, Ray bent down and picked up Brian’s glass eye. He pocketed Brian’s pride and joy. He didn’t know what he aimed to do with it; maybe give it to Claire, if he made it out of here.
Soon he heard the deep, wet breathing of an old man who had overexerted himself.
Ray turned and faced the man he had helped capture.
Chris’s hair was completely white; his face fleshy and drawn and thick with lines.
Chris stopped in front of Ray and looked around. “Where’s Brian?”
