The Crocodile Nest

by Des Hunt

  ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ Luke whispered to himself. ‘You are just so smart, aren’t you?’

  ‘So when I find that I have been tricked into leaving the computers at The Nest, I come back and check the log. And what do I find? I find that someone has copied the system files. “So who would that be?” I asked myself. There is only one person, and he is that meddling little boy who thinks he knows so much. The boy who is waiting for a reply from his friend Brian so that he can go to the cops.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘But I know that Brian has already answered, because I have checked that boy’s emails and deleted the answer.’ He turned to face Luke. ‘You see, I knew your email address even before you got here. As soon as Ham sent you my program I knew about you and have been watching ever since. You can’t beat me, because I am much too clever. So, you will tell me where the disks are hidden. Yes?’

  No, thought Luke. Not yet anyway. Not until he really had to. Not until the very last minute.

  All this time they had been slowly moving up the creek. If anyone had been looking from the shore, they would have thought the two of them in the boat were out for a leisurely evening cruise, maybe out bird-watching. But there was no one on the shore. The estuary was their’s alone, apart from the birds that were now coming in to roost, a few fish, and of course the crocodiles that were yet to reveal themselves.

  ‘We will soon be there, Luke,’ said Chizza, pointing to the island directly in front of them. He throttled back the engine. ‘Now is the time to tell me, before it is too late.’

  ‘I posted them to the police,’ said Luke.

  Chizza shook his head. ‘No, you are lying. You hid them and you will tell me where.’ There was now more urgency in the man’s voice.

  ‘If I tell you, how will I know that you’ll come back and get me?’

  ‘You will have to trust me.’

  Luke shook his head.

  ‘I do not want you to die,’ said Chizza, earnestly. ‘But those disks are important to me. If the cops get them, then everyone will know my methods and I will not be able to use the same programs at the next place. So tell me where they are. Then you will have to stay out here only for a small time before I return to get you.’ The man was almost pleading with him.

  ‘No!’

  Chizza’s face flushed red with anger. ‘Then I will put you on that island, and you can die there.’ He thrust the throttle forward, revving the motor. With that, the front of the boat rose dangerously, and the doors on several of the lockers fell open. Their contents spilled onto the deck, where they slid noisily towards the stern, forming a heap near the bung-hole. Tools, fishing tackle, boating gear, and in the middle of it all was the gun.

  For a moment, both of them stared at the heap, taking it in. Then Chizza pulled the throttle lever right back, allowing the boat to settle into the water. The heap slid forward a little, leaving the rifle to sit on its own.

  As Luke looked at the rifle, his mind was working overtime. Was this his chance? Was it his way out of here?

  ‘Scared of it, aren’t you?’ sneered Chizza, stepping towards the stern.

  Suddenly, Luke threw himself onto the deck and scrambled to the back. In an instant, the rifle was in his hands and his hand was on the trigger.

  Chizza stopped and glared at him for a moment. Then he let out another of his crazy laughs.

  ‘So what are you going to do now, smart boy?’ He moved forward until he was just a metre away, towering over Luke. ‘Go on,’ he taunted, ‘pull the trigger.’

  Without taking his eyes off Chizza, Luke felt for the cocking lever, found it and gave it a pull.

  Chizza took a step back. For a second or so his sneer was tinged with a touch of fear. He recovered enough to say, ‘So? What next?’

  In answer, Luke slid the safety catch off.

  Again Chizza showed fear, but he held his ground.

  ‘Move back!’ said Luke.

  ‘No!’

  Luke pointed the rifle into the air and pulled the trigger.

  The blast shocked him as much as it did Chizza. Every bird in the estuary seemed to start screeching wildly. The echo went back and forth, bouncing off the mangrove trees. When everything settled down, Chizza had moved back as asked, and Luke was on his feet, with the rifle held in front of him, pointed at the deck.

  ‘Now take me home,’ he ordered, attempting to sound like someone in control.

  For a time it looked as though Chizza would do just that. He moved to the wheel and restarted the stalled motor. He even turned the boat and travelled downstream for a bit. But then he had second thoughts, and turned around until once again they were heading towards the island.

  ‘Turn back!’ shouted Luke.

  In answer, Chizza took his hands from the wheel and spun around to glare at Luke. ‘You will not shoot me,’ he said. ‘Look—you cannot even point it at me. Go on! Point it at me.’

  Luke tried and couldn’t.

  ‘See!’ Chizza jeered. ‘With you the rifle is useless.’ He moved towards the stern, leaving the boat to drive itself. ‘Give it to me.’

  Luke didn’t know what to do. Should he shoot in the air again? Before he’d sorted out what to do, Chizza was standing right in front of him.

  ‘Give!’ ordered Chizza, holding out his hands.

  Suddenly Luke knew what to do: he couldn’t let the man have the gun. In Chizza’s hands it would not be useless: he would have no problems pointing it at a person, and Luke knew who that person would be. The gun had to go over the side.

  Chizza must have read his thoughts, because Luke had scarcely moved when the big man was upon him, clutching at the rifle. Luke lunged towards the side of the boat, still in control of the weapon, but unable to free his arms enough to throw the thing. If he dropped it on the deck, it might go off. He had to get close enough to the side to drop it into the water.

  Again he lunged sideways. For a moment Chizza’s feet got tangled in all the gear on the deck and Luke was almost free. Now the rifle was over the side. He let go. At the same time Chizza leapt at him, roaring like a lion. The boat heaved over dangerously, tipping them closer to the water.

  They would have been all right if Chizza had pulled back then. Instead, he thrust out an arm to grab at the rifle which was about to disappear below the surface. His fingers touched the stock without getting a grip. He thrust with his legs, causing the boat to tilt even further. This time he got a hold. Unfortunately, by then more of his body was outside the boat than in—there was no way he could get back. As he slid over the side, he stretched out with his free arm and grabbed Luke’s clothes, dragging him down, too. For a moment Luke managed to hold onto the side, before the weight of the man became too much and he fell into the water. He went under, dragged down by the surge of water from the propeller as the motor moved past.

  When he eventually surfaced, the boat was well out of reach, motoring quietly upstream. Chizza had started swimming towards the shore, still holding the rifle even though it meant he could do little more than a sidestroke. Luke weighed up his options. The closest land was the island, probably less than fifty metres away. The shore was more than double that distance. Swimming there would mean more time in the water—more time exposed to the crocodiles. And even if he got there, Chizza and the gun would be waiting for him.

  He made his decision, and set off for the island. At first he did freestyle, but when he saw how much that disturbed the water he changed to a gentle breaststroke, hoping that the crocodiles of the estuary were still enjoying their afternoon nap. If they stayed that way for a while, he might still have a chance.

  Chapter 27

  With every stroke, Luke expected something to happen. He tried not to think about what that something might be, but images of the egret’s fate kept coming into his head, and each time he came closer to panicking.

  Fifty metres wasn’t all that far to swim—he’d done it many times in a pool. Yet now it seemed to take ages. Maybe the current was holding him back? What was the tide doing
last night? Was it coming in or going out? He couldn’t remember. But if it was going out, then he could be swimming forever.

  He was twenty metres from the island when a dark shape appeared in the water. It was on his right, drifting slowly towards him. For a moment he froze. Then panic set in. He abandoned the breaststroke and started swimming as fast as he could. Faster than he’d ever swum before. Every time he took a breath, he could see that the thing was getting closer. Yet still it drifted, making no move to attack. Surely it must have seen or heard him? He was splashing so much that everything in the creek would know he was there.

  Ten metres to go. He took another breath, and this time couldn’t see the thing. It must have gone under, getting ready to strike. Five metres, and still no chomping teeth. Then his hand touched the roots of the mangroves. Desperately he grabbed at them. He had to get out of the water. He hauled himself up enough to put his feet on the ground. That was a mistake—he sank deep into the mud. Again he hauled on the roots. One foot came out and found a firm place, then it was easy. Seconds later he was clambering through the roots towards the bank of hard ground that formed the island.

  The bank was a metre or so high and vertical: steeper than any crocodile could climb. Now that he was out of the water, his limbs seemed next to useless with fatigue. Yet he discovered enough energy to get up the bank. Immediately, his body wanted to collapse on the ground, but his mind said to check whether the crocodile had followed him onto the shore.

  He looked down at the water—and there it was, back on the surface, still drifting. A big one. Bigger than the one that had taken the egret. Big enough to attack a human. As he watched, it rolled a little, exposing a leg.

  Hang on…that was no leg. It was a branch!

  That’s when Luke finally collapsed on the ground, not out of exhaustion, but in a fit of hysterical giggling. There was no crocodile, just a drifting bit of wood. He’d panicked because of a piece of driftwood.

  He was still giggling when the silence of the estuary was pierced with a scream. He jumped to his feet, eyes searching the shoreline. It could be Chizza. Then the sound of a shot, loud and not far away. More screaming, followed quickly by two more shots. Now Luke had the direction: it was coming from the water not far from the shore. It was Chizza, and he was under attack.

  The water was foaming near Chizza’s legs. From a distance it wasn’t clear whether it was an animal or Chizza’s kicking. It must have been an animal, though, because Chizza was on his back, holding the gun in one hand trying to point towards his feet. He fired again, and a piece of something flew into the air. Another shot. Nothing flew up this time, but the screaming took on a new intensity. Four more shots were fired in quick succession. Then nothing—nothing but screaming. The foaming stopped, to be replaced by a spreading stain in the water. Even from his distance, Luke could see that the stain was red. And something was floating in the middle of it. Something that began to drift downstream with the discoloured water.

  Surprisingly, Chizza was still alive. The screaming changed to a low moan, barely audible across the water. He tried to swim still holding the gun, but with just one arm and no legs he was barely staying afloat. Next thing, the gun was dropped and he began to make progress.

  Less than a minute later, he was at the shore—that’s how close he’d been to safety when he’d been attacked. As Chizza hauled himself out of the water, onto the mud, Luke could see that he still had both legs but they seemed to be useless. What remained of his trousers was stained bright red.

  It took ages before Chizza made it safely to solid ground and collapsed. Judging by the amount of blood around the place, Luke figured that the man was probably dying. Certainly he wasn’t going anywhere. The vehicle was a long way downstream, and the boat had disappeared somewhere up-river.

  Luke gave a wry smile: maybe there was some justice in what had happened to Chizza. He’d laughed about Luke feeding the crocodiles, now it seemed that it had happened the other way around.

  Lora and Beth were back in their room. Beth was waiting for a meal from room service while Lora was composing a text to Luke, although that was difficult with Beth talking all the time. She was still bubbling with the excitement of the meeting with the oldies.

  ‘Did you get that bit about the toilets?’ Beth asked.

  ‘Yes, Gran,’ said Lora with a sigh. ‘And I recorded that sphincter muscles get tired with age.’

  ‘We’ll have to have a public toilet,’ said Beth. ‘Even though it will add to the cost, it will bring people into the shop.’

  ‘More cleaning bills,’ added Lora.

  ‘I don’t mind cleaning up after old folk. I got used to that when I was a nurse.’ A pause. ‘That’s something else we must provide. Some sort of medical support, especially if they lose their pills. Maybe I can come to some arrangement with a local pharmacy. I’ll need a doctor as well, I suppose…’

  As Beth went on thinking out loud, Lora completed her text, asking Luke how Crazy Hazel was, and reminding him that their dinner was at eight and if he was going to be late then now was the time to say so.

  By the time the text had been sent, Beth’s dinner had arrived and she had finally stopped talking. Lora filled the spa bath, added a scented bubble-mix, and lounged back to dream of the lovely evening ahead. Beside her was her cellphone, which she checked almost every minute, worried that she might not hear the chime because of all the bubbles. Each time was a disappointment—Luke had not replied. Surely he wouldn’t ignore her message? Not on the night of their first date? She knew that the creek area got a signal, because she’d checked her phone several times during the spotlighting trip.

  Maybe he couldn’t hear the phone because of the noise from the motor? Yes, that would be it! She’d get a reply as soon as they reached the shore again. She settled back into the water, determined not to let anything destroy what was going to be a wonderful evening.

  However, even then she couldn’t resist checking the phone every minute or so, and each time the result was the same—still no reply.

  The sun had gone behind the Great Dividing Range. Soon it would be dark. Luke’s watch had got smashed as he was dragged out of the boat. He figured that it must be about six o’clock, not that he really needed to know the time. Unless a miracle happened, he wouldn’t be making it to his date with Lora.

  She was his lifeline. When eight o’clock came, she was sure to wonder why he hadn’t made it. She knew he was with Chizza and where they’d gone. Sooner or later she’d start getting suspicious, and then people would come to search for them. It might take a couple of hours, but Luke was certain he wasn’t going to have to spend the night on the island. Just in case, though, it would be best to take a look around while there was still light.

  Reluctantly, he left his place on the bank to push through the undergrowth. He found it easier to move bent over, as there were fewer plants close to the ground. It was almost as if some animal had made a—Instantly, he was more alert: there was only one animal that might live in this place.

  It was soon clear that the island was flat and not very big. Although the ground was reasonably dry, tide marks on the plants indicated that at some time in the past it must have flooded. The trees were bigger as he moved away from the water. All of them had funny roots that poked out of the ground. Some looked as if they might be reasonably easy to climb, and he wondered whether that might be a better way of checking things out.

  His path soon had him at the shore again. Here, it was a gentle muddy slope. It would have been much easier to get ashore if he’d landed in this spot. Then, as he studied the mud, his stomach began to churn. This was no ordinary muddy shore. This was a crocodile slide—a very fresh crocodile slide.

  Luke’s eyes followed the path that led from the slope, through a tunnel of branches and into an area clear of trees and undergrowth. In the middle was a heap of twigs, earth, leaves, and dug-up roots. It was a crocodile nest, but, unlike the one he had seen the night before, this one looked as if
it had recently had some attention. It had to be Crazy Hazel’s nest. He’d finally got to see it.

  Before Luke had fully grasped the significance of what he was seeing, he heard a hissing sound, as if air was rushing through a hole. It was difficult to judge the direction it was coming from, but soon it didn’t matter—the source of the sound was right in front of him. It was Hazel. She seemed to have appeared from nowhere and was now standing on the other side of the mudslide. Her mouth was open, and again Luke heard the hissing sound. Then her jaw slammed shut, almost like the slamming of a door. Without doubt, Luke was being warned to stay away. He needed no further warning—he turned and ran.

  He crashed through the branches, hoping that Hazel would want to stay by her nest. If he could get back to where he’d climbed ashore, he might be far enough away for her to ignore him. It was probably as far away from the nest as he could get on the little island.

  However, he soon found that Hazel wasn’t called crazy for nothing. The island was hers, and any intruders had to be driven away or attacked. When Luke took a quick look behind, he found that she was following, running with her body raised off the ground and far faster than he’d ever imagined a crocodile could move. Faster than he was going. He pushed himself harder.

  When he came to the place where he’d landed, he just kept running. If he stayed there, the only way out was into the water, and that was the last place he wanted to confront a crocodile. His best hope was to stay on the land. If he kept going, he might find a safe place. But he couldn’t keep running for much longer; nor could Hazel—he hoped. Yet she was still behind him, although not getting any closer. Then he saw the nest again. They’d circled the island. He’d seen it all, and there was no safe place.

  Hazel seemed to get new energy at the sight of the nest, for once again she was gaining. This time Luke just couldn’t go any faster. Something had to happen soon, before it ended in disaster. He was so tired that his feet were stumbling. Any moment he would fall flat on his face and it would be all over.