The Great Empty

by Anita Melillo

  A trail of ashes followed him on the marble floor where the last twelve cigarettes had burned to the quick. He had hardly inhaled two or three, but he smoke alone sent cloudy spirals into the glass dome, filtering out any fresh oxygen.

  Angrily, he combed his fingers past his temples, trying to ease the tension, or to at least force some answers into his overwrought conscious. Unable to show any optimism, he was even less of a comfort to his sobbing wife.

  Unlike her husband, Elizabeth hadn’t budged from the end of the wicker settee all day. She kept her face buried in the palms of her hands as the hot tears stung her eyes. It felt as though every part of her soul was coming unhinged, and all she could think of was distressing thoughts about the multitude of evils that could have befallen Donovan. Where could he be?... Is he hungry?... Even alive?... Where was Yancey and why haven’t they heard anything yet?...

  Mary walked into the room with a pot of tea, along with a dish of biscuits. After pouring two cups, she placed a warm embrace around her sister-in-laws shoulders, speaking kind words of hope.

  “You need to keep your strength up, Liz. Donovan will want to find you in one piece”

  Abruptly, Elizabeth looked up. Her eyes were flashing hot and her face was wet as she yelled, “Oh, shut up!”, which sent the yellow parakeets into an acrobatic whirlwind.

  Allister twisted around at the directiveness in her voice.

  Mary dropped her cup of tea.

  “Wrong choice of words, I suppose.”

  Before his brother had arrived, Yancey got the call from the jail. His ute had been impounded and the old cockney was behind bars. And rather than worrying Allister any more than was necessary, he decided to keep it under wraps and make use of the opportunity to put more pressure on the authorities. He also didn’t have the heart to face them without being able to shed some light on the situation. So he caught a ride to the jail with one of the patrolmen who knew him.

  It had been a while since he had be required to fetch one of his fellow blokes from the hole, but the trip was all too familiar, especially when he stepped inside and grasped his nose from the smell. It was a good thing he had his connections. Otherwise, the frazzled shell of a man that he once endeared as a guardian might have rotted in his own waste.

  “Thank heavens you’ve come!” Preston gave an exuberant sigh of relief.

  “Yeah, well.., don’t go thankin’ me yet. You just can’t go ‘round puttin’ a bloody gun in peoples faces and not expect to pay out the bum,” he scoffed as the guardsman unlocked the cage.

  Preston didn’t even look back at his two cell mates who were fighting over the roll of toilet paper.

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude..,” he sincerely gestured.

  Yancey threw his arms around the gaping man’s neck. “The way I figure it, you paid your dues already. I think the gray hair started comin’ in when you were thirty five. It’s amazin’ what two spoiled lads can do to a”

  “Um.., hmmm,” Preston cleared his throat as they headed up the stairs. “Believe it or not, the two of you wore halos compared to this one.”

  However, the dark circles of concern weighed heavily upon his eyes. “I just hope the lad is all right. I really didn’t mean to”

  “Hey,” Yancey stopped him. “We all get a little stupid now and then, but there’s no need in lettin’ it get the best of ya. There’s still a lot of good years tucked beneath that gray cap. You just have to guard ‘em, that’s all. No quick fix is ever worth losin’ the wits about ya.”

  After swinging open the heavy glass doors to the free world, Yancey nodded knowingly at the old soul beside him. Nothing was ever really free. It all had a price, and Preston must have been very aware of that price to have lasted all those years with his rigid family. Unfortunately, it had almost cost him his life, and his nephew’s was yet to be determined.

  It had taken most of the afternoon to arrange bail, but there were still a few hours of daylight left and he was ready to put it all behind him.

  “What do you say to a tall one?” Yancey looked to an open pub. “Coffee, that is..,” he scrubbed the whiskers on his chin. “We’ve got some strategizing to do.”

  “Indeed..,” Preston’s posture straightened with a new air of confidence, one that said he was glad to be included in the search and part of the living again. “Indeed we do.”

  “What’s it like not having to go to school anymore? No homework or crabby ol’ teachers telling you what to do I’d sure like to try it,” said Donovan as he stepped over a hollowed out log.

  Once around it, Neji knelt and dug out a handful of dirt. Shiny onyx gems crawled about in his palm. As soon as the black dirt sifted through his fingers, the bulbous backs were exposed, and Neji popped one into his mouth.

  “You get to go diggin’ for honey ants, mate. That’s for fact. The learnin’ comes from a days find and the elders teach the rest.”

  “What about books?” he questioned.

  “Don’t need ‘em. Why bother with a book when it’s right in front of you, mate? Know what I mean? I got it all right here. Just like when the spirits became man.., I get to see it all for the first time. It’s a bigger place that way,” suggested Neji.

  “You mean the world?” asked Donovan.

  “If you want to limit it to that,” he popped a couple more into his mouth and one crawled down his chin. “Sure you don’t want some?” he offered.

  “Nah,” waved Donovan. “They’d probably just make me thirsty.”

  “Have it your way, mate.., and I’ll have it mine,” he hammered the rest with his fist and crunched them all at once.

  “Yuk!” Donovan commented.

  At once though, Neji motioned for him to be quiet as he placed his ear to the ground. Without a word, he grabbed his spear and ran through the trees until he made the clearing.

  The sound grew like thunder as it rumbled closer and Neji ducked behind a rock.

  Donovan crept up behind him with the Thorny Devil in hand.

  “Shhh..,” he motioned. “Roos.., maybe twenty of ‘em.”

  A blinding path of springing marsupials exploded onto the grassy plain. Sighting the distance, Neji gave a swift thrust of his spear as it ripped through the evening air.

  All Donovan could see was a young one in its path. “No.., not the joey!”

  At the pitch of his voice the herd scrammed, but the spear plugged something.

  Aggravated, Neji huffed an insult at him in Gagadjuan, before he went to retrieve the kill.

  Bending down, he lifted the goanna to his waist. “If lizard is what you want. That’s what you’re gonna get!”

  Donovan rolled his eyes and sank back into the grass. “How much further? Even that looks good to me now.”

  “Sure it does, but I’m goin’ to teach you somethin’ new before we get there,” he said.

  “Like what?” asked Donovan.

  “Like how to fish” grinned Neji. “Just show some patience. It’s what it’s all about. Besides, we’re getting closer.”

  Soon they were at a small stream that ran alongside the base of a mountain. It was wide enough that he stepped on several wide stones to cross it. Donovan was intrigued.

  “What are we going to do? Catch them with our hands?” he asked.

  “No mate,” Neji stepped into the stream to stand on top of a rock. He held the spear at an angle just so and waited for a fish to swim within his reach. Then suddenly he stabbed at it and missed.

  “Can I have a turn?” questioned Donovan. “I really want to put that thing to use!” he declared in his excitement.

  So he splashed across the stream to another rock and balanced himself as he reached for the spear from Neji. He held it forcefully above his head and took a stab at a fish and missed. He shook his head and went about his stance again. He tried again, but to no avail, but he wasn’t giving up so eaily. A few moments later another one was within his reach and he stabbed down
quickly and raised the spear from the water with the fish on the blade.

  “Whoo weee!” he yelled. “I am Miro, the great spear thrower! Fish can not flee from my swift hand!” he announced loudly with pride, as the sound echoed through the valley.

  Neji too, joined in with an announcement. “Now this man wanderer doesn’t have to go without, because he knows how to fish!!... Miro!! Miro!! Miro!!”

  Donovan rapped into the chant, “Miro!” as he pumped his free fist into the air. “Miro!... Miro! Miro!”

  It was a proud moment and his eyes glistened with elation of the moment. “You do know,” he added, “this is probably the most important thing that I have ever done!”

  Neji laughed some more. “It is a big thing to be had,” he boasted. “Now it’s my turn and we’ll cook these dead fish up!”

  Donovan boasted, “Yeah!” as he stepped onto the bank and let the fish land on the ground away from the shore. “How much further do we have to go? I’m ready to do this!”

  “’Bout three more meters, mate,” he laughed again as he motioned for him to be silent, while he took a successful stab at another fish and raised it from the water.

  “Oh, yeah!” Donovan nodded with the accomplishment as Neji stomped out of the stream.

  “This is the most fun I’ve ever had!” he added. “It’s feels incredible becoming a man and a great spear warrior!”

  “It’s what we’re all inclined to be,” Neji agreed, as he gathered up both fish and motioned for Donovan to open his backpack.

  Donovan unzipped it and thought it was cool how the fish flopped around inside. “Well at least I brought my backpack!” he added again with a laugh.

  “It is always best to look on the bright side,” agreed Neji. “Now we can head towards the caves,” as he motioned for Donovan to fall in line. “They’re this way.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Donovan was simply curious at the woodsmans insights.

  “The sky is one way,” Neji explained. “But if you look beyond the trees you can see it. Come on, mate, let’s get on with it. We’ve got some skinnin’ to do.”

  Donovan emerged with a dance in his stride at the challenges that now awaited him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The pit was ready to be fired when they reached the cavern. The circle of stacked rock was filled with bones and ashes from a previous hunt. Where the red glow of evening had disappeared behind the shaded hologram, the mountain of stone was one dark recess. Donovan stared down at the pit and then back to Neji.

  “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” the fearless hunter said while fingering the ashes, with his feet cupped tight to the jagged rock. “It’s from a couple days back. We can have it for the night.”

  Donovan shrugged reluctantly as he thought about this particular site being used by tribal people for hundreds of generations. People just like Neji. As he watched his friend pry at the neck of the goanna, the skin began to peel loose, and he walked away. It would take a lot longer than an afternoon for him to adapt to indigenous ways. So he pulled the fish out of his backpack by the back fins and dropped them onto the ground.

  “How do I go about this?” he asked.

  “Take this,” answered Neji, as he tossed his knife over to Donovan and it landed in the dirt. “Just scrape against the opposite side of the scales until they come off.”

  “Okay,” Donovan nodded and got busy at doing a mans job. “What about the heads?”

  “We can leave ‘em on. It doesn’t really matter,” he answered. “Once you get to the insides though, I’ll show you how to clean them out.”

  Donovan agreed with a nod while he worked at the flesh of the fish, still curious about the inside of the cave and wanting to explore it afterwards.

  “Come on,” nodded Neji, whose arms were red with blood up to his elbows. “Let’s leave these here for a minute to see what we can find.”

  “Are you sure they will be all right? What about other animals?” he asked.

  Neji replied, “We won’t be gone long, and we’ll finish what we started.”

  Donovan agreed and followed his friend up the side of the mountain and into the opening of the cave.

  Images outlined in red and yellow ocher covered the wall surrounding the opening of the cavern. Donovan studied them. Glaring at him from above was a winged creature poised downward with large round eyes.

  “Who’s the owl man?” he asked.

  Neji vaguely turned toward him and felt that he was hindering his progress. The sun had since melted behind the escarpment and it would soon be too dark to see without the fire.

  “Djawok,” he replied and disappeared further into the black hole.

  “D--, who?” Donovan scratched his head as he peered into the darkness.

  “No,” the answer echoed from the back of the cavern as Neji felt high against the right wall for the cut out. “Not an owl, a cuckoo..,” his voice drew closer. “Djawok was a creator being who left his form on the rock. Keeps the Dreamtime alive,” he said while emerging with a handful of odd shaped stones.

  It all sounded strangely mythical to Donovan, so he pretended that it made sense for the sake of conversation, as he slapped at his face. A mosquito had left a rising welt.

  “Hey.., do you know anything I can do to keep the bugs off?” he called out to his friend who was already outside again and starting a fire inside the pit.

  With the evening setting in, as the fire ignited into the pit it illuminated the face of the plateau. To Donovan, it was as if a floodlight had been miraculously switched on, and now the inside of the cavern was more visible than before. So he walked further back to explore the opening.

  The cool of the dugout enveloped him as the ceiling rose to a sharp crest. Covering every smooth surface was more of the bizarre artwork and at the base of his feet, even more peculiar findings, pieces of wood chiseled by hand formed implements for digging, as well as wooden spoons and bowls. And leading all the way into the corner were bones. Not just any bones, these were small, but too distinct to be that of an animal.

  He eased in closer to distant the shadows. “Oh m-m-m-mummy!” he exclaimed as his chin dropped in astonishment, “a human skull”

  The juices of charred lizard began to loft into the air. The smell brought saliva to Neji’s tongue. Only a while longer and the sparse layers of muscle would be cooked through over the hot flames, but the sun baked Thorny Devil would make a good appetizer. There was only one problem. He needed something to scoop out the intestines. He knew just where to find it.

  “Barbe’s on,” he snapped his fingers as he hustled into the entrance again. It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the dim glow of the cavern where he found his friend gasping over the find.

  Without any qualms about it, he waltzed over and wiggled one of the finger tendons loose and pointed it up at Donovan. “Don’t mind if I borrow this, do ya?”

  Donovan was speechless.

  The native tossed it back on the pile and laughed, “Got bones ‘bout it, ah?”

  “How.., how could you just do that?” he stuttered as Neji went about gathering up the utensils strewn about.

  Neji looked to the pale face whose eyes were wide with fear and said, “As sure as I lay my head here tonight, my remains ‘ll return to the rocks one day. Must‘ve been laid to rest there on purpose.”

  When Donovan listened to the voice of reason, he saw his companion differently. With the spiny lines of white paint that skillfully marked his body, and the blood still wet at his elbows, he wasn’t so sure which would keep him from closing his eyes when the time came, the Aborigine dressed for rituals as mysterious as the odor lingering in the night air, or the dry bones coming to life in the corner.

  Shifting his dark eyes away from his friend, Neji decided to do something to put him at tease again. He had had his fun. So he went to a moist crack in the wall and pulled out a thick glob of clay, rubbed it into one of the smal
l wooden bowls, poured some water into it from his flask, and stirred. He moved close to Donovan and smoothed it over his irritated skin.

  “That’ll help,” he said. “Just think of it as an ointment.”

  “Thanks,” Donovan allowed himself to breathe again. “That one really threw me for a minute. We don’t have to sleep with it though, do we?”

  “Nah, mate,” Neji concluded, getting the last bit of satisfaction from the tease. “You can always rough it out there.., with the real thing.”

  Donovan grew uncertain again.

  “Ahhh,” he laughed. “Don’t mind me, mate. Watch this,” he smiled as he shook out the contents of the bowl and chipped off some pieces of a white stone into it. He used another stone to pound it into fine powder, poured a little more water in and blended again.

  “Looks like paint,” Donovan perked up.