The Great Empty

by Anita Melillo

  Now that they had reached top altitude, the ride was much smoother as they trekked the skies, slicing through the more humus regions where patches of woodlands emerged. They were directly over Stuart Highway, heading due Southeast towards Katherine.

  The butterflies in Preston’s stomach had stopped plummeting long enough for his hand to steady the binoculars. Even though they wouldn’t be anywhere near the park within the next half hour, he still hoped for a glimpse of the lad hitching his way back to Darwin. Of course, it was highly unlikely, especially since he would have reached a ranger station or out-post before anything else. But it was early yet, and if he took a different perspective on life, anything was possible.

  With the city growing faint behind them, the land became barren in sections as an occasional town cropped up between long stretches of desert. If Yancey veered to the left about twenty kilometers or so, they were on top of scant vegetation and underlying rock again. Anything beyond that was mountainous range and patches of forest. So he tried to keep course between the two, but within close proximity of the highway.

  A blur of static came zipping across the airwaves. Yancey signed off and relayed the message.

  “They’re sendin’ in a search party with dogs. Bloody wallopers,” he gruffed. “It’s about time they did somethin’ to earn their keep Somebody had better call the homestead and let ‘em know there’s hope.”

  “I’ll get ‘em on line,” Preston nodded and he pressed a button on his cell phone. The old man gave out a sigh of relief that they weren’t alone in their efforts, but he still felt the impending weight of it all.

  “I simply don’t know why I just didn’t go ahead and take him to the Crocodile Farm” he offered.

  “And I don’t know why we do a lot of things friend, but I can tell you this. I bet the lad wishes he would’ve waited just the same,” replied Yancey. He could see the worry in the old fellows eyes when he glanced over to him.

  Memories that had been hidden for a long time began to crop up, despite the hard crust he had maintained for so many years, and he was glad that he had brought him along. Maybe it would help to put the situation behind him when they found his nephew. At least he was able to spare him from his brother for the time being. If he knew anything about Allister, he was probably still as unforgiving as ever.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The menagerie of womanhood stood protectively in the doorway as Elizabeth, Mary, Marcy and Viola waved good-bye to Allister as he left the stucco ranch. Dressed for safari, he passed the totaled off-road truck on his way to the extended lime-green one waiting in the driveway. He shook his head in disgust and could hardly believe he had entrusted the half-cocked drunkard with the lives of his children. Perhaps Elizabeth was right after all. It was his fault, and it seemed just like Yancey to take off without him.

  He recalled from his childhood when his mother made Yancey let him tag along, only that once he was a good distance from the manor, his older brother and his friends would take off through the wooded valley to a secret clubhouse that he wasn’t allowed to join, always trailing him behind. However, this time was different. There was no excuse for the brief phone call without including him in the search. And while Yancey soared the skies to his delight, he would have to take the low road to the remotest parts of the bush until he found his son.

  The two Aboriginal rangers greeted Allister as he climbed into the loaded down jeep. They had enough bed rolls, food, and supplies to last at least three days and planned to hire more recruits once they made it to Park Headquarters. No one knew the outback better than the tribesmen and they thought it a good strategy to start at the north end and work their way down, since Yancey was already at the south end. With 7,720 square miles in between, they would have to cover a lot of ground to make up for the two day loss.

  Something in the predawn hours ignited a spark in the dormant ashes of the rock pit just outside the cavern. Spirals of smoke lofted into the air like white billows of vapor rising from a steaming roast. Only four miles beyond the mountain of stone and thick barrier of forest laid spread an open field of grass. And beyond that, a dirt road potted with deep holes and rock protrusions.

  The jeep came to a bouncing halt as the driver caught a glimpse of the white rings dissipating into the clouds above the monolith. He removed his hat with the dangling corks and smoothed a grimy hand across the oily patch of skin. He could get hair to grow out his ears, down his neck and across his back, but the oblong dome that housed his brain as slick as his tongue. And he liked it that way.

  With a sharp turn of the wheel, the rear end sank into one of the three foot holes. Throwing the shaft into first, the tires spun rapidly, which sent a shower of dust all around the deranged man as he choked and cursed each breath. He shifted gears again, and this time grinded the clutch as the metal screeched into reverse.

  With an instant jolt, he was racing backwards into the grassy field before halting once again. Then he drove on further until he met a clump of trees and brush. It would make a good hiding place.

  The navigational map was the first thing that was wedged into his roll. Next would be his blade.

  With the cunning of a death adder, he reached beneath the seat and clasped the jagged edge. Then he ran his index finger down the razor tip, which he pricked a module of blood. He licked it for luck and shoved the hat back on his head. When he looked into the rear view mirror, the corks fell into place. Then he flipped the reflection skyward so that the angle could be seen from the monolith.

  Although he didn’t trust them, he had dealt with Aborigines before. Even though these parts were off limits to outsiders, they were a reasonable people. Surely they would let him know if they had seen a white kid roaming their sacred grounds.

  In the most dramatic hours of dreaming, the Dreamtime came alive A pack of snarling dingoes surrounded him while the Aborigine stood with one foot on his chest laughing with the spear pressed at his throat, all the while Mimi spirits danced in and out of consciousness and the bubbling sound must be too close to the creek got to run Viola can’t swim

  As daylight crept into the cavern, Donovan’s legs spontaneously jerked when he heard footsteps. But how could that be?... Neji didn’t wear shoes and each step was so.., heavy.

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes. They were puffy and stinging from the saltiness of his sandstone pillow. He twisted his aching back from side to side. The dry bones were still in the corner, the wooden bowls and cutting implements still scattered about.., but where was Neji?

  The footsteps grew cautiously closer and his knees began to shake. As much as he wanted to be discovered, he didn’t want it to be by a cannibal. What should he do? Call out? Hide? He considered his options. Then the opening was dark again as a man sized shadow blocked the recesses of his slumber.

  “Who’s there?” his sleepy voice wavered as he pulled the end of Neji’s spear towards him.

  The shadow crouched and the light broke free above his head.

  Donovan scampered backwards, but stopped when his foot hit the pile of bones. As the image moved into the darkness, what became clear was more horrid than anything he had dreamt all night.

  The man leaned forward for a closer look, his sulfuric grin stretched wide as he sneered, “Well, now..,, if it ain’t the little pomme himself!” His eyes shifted to the pillage behind him. “I see you’ve met my friend Arnie,” he paused to speak to the skull. “Arnie, wave hello to the pomme if you can”

  Donovan pulled the spear inward, guarding the five feet distance between them.

  A smaller shadow filled the opening. The tin of water was still boiling over the smoke stack as he said, “Hey mate. Get a look at what I found..,” he cupped four small turtle eggs in his hands, anxious to show his friend the find.

  “Wait.., Neji,” Donovan called out, but it was too late. He had already entered the cavern and was surprised to see the visitor.

  The swagman studied Donov
an’s expression and then turned to the Aborigine without waiting for introductions. Then he raised his right pants leg and lifted a coiled sheet of paper form his boot.

  With a quick motion, Donovan jumped, mentally preparing to lunge forward with the spear if necessary.

  The swagman looked at him and yawned, as he patted his hand over his mouth. “Wouldn’t act in haste if I were you. Didn’t get the poor chap beside you very far,” he laughed again.

  Donovan wasn’t going to fall for the diversion. It was only a bluff. “What do you want?”

  “No need to mince words.., we can get right to the point, since we’re all men here,” he coughed and nodded to Neji as though daring him to move. When he unrolled the big sheet of paper, he said, “Striking resemblance, ay?”

  “Where’d you get that?” Donovan questioned defensively.

  Neji didn’t know what to think. He scratched his head at the image of the boy with a finger up his nose.

  “Why, they’re posted all over town.., even claims to be a reward,” he replied smugly. “That’s why I’m here. Your folks have hired me to bring you back.”

  “I don’t believe you!” he yelled. “I’ll find my own way back!”

  “Sure you will, kid,” he sneered again as he pulled back the side of his vest, revealing the handle of the knife, and yet obscuring the view from Neji.

  Donovan took the threat well and realized that the man could kill them both if he didn’t cooperate. He wanted to hesitate, but the words escaped his mouth. “How long will it take us to get back?”

  “If we take the short cut, a day tops,” but never looking him in the eye.

  “I need to talk to my friend,” he suggested.

  “Take your time, kid..,” the swagman looked on. “But the quicker we hit the trail, the sooner you’ll see your family again.”

  Donovan walked with Neji outside and asked him how much further it was to his camp.

  “About a six hour hike north-east of here,” replied Neji.

  “Tell me again how to compass the skies” Donovan suggested.

  “It’s easy...,” Neji motioned as the whispering grew louder.

  The swagman strained his ears to listen, but he didn’t want to create a bad situation by not respecting the kids wishes in front of the Bunitji. He didn’t want any suspicions raised. So to keep them from plotting too much, he tapped one heel and whistled to let them know he was getting impatient.

  Neji peered over Donovan’s shoulder and scratched his forehead. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

  Donovan was afraid to give too much away, as he wanted to protect his friend. “Do most swagmen look like that?”

  “Pretty much.., but I don’t think he’s dinkum,” answered Neji.

  “What’s that?” Donovan quickened his response.

  “You know, the real thing. Looks more like a bushranger to me. Are you sure you want to go with him?” Neji tried appealing to him.

  “No,” he shook his head, ‘but I think I have to,” he said in a discouraged tone.

  “Ah,” Neji replied as though he understood perfectly. “If you’re afraid, I bet we could take him—”

  “Nah,” sighed Donovan. “I’m sure he’s on the up and up.”

  “Just in case he’s not..,” Neji clasped his hand tight around his spear. “I’d aim it between his shoulders when he’s got his back turned.”

  “But what about the corroboree? What will the elders say?” Donovan asked, knowing what a special gesture it was on Neji’s part, since it might cost him his manhood.

  “Got plenty of spear heads here. I’ll just get a new shaft from a grass tree. But if you have to bail.., you know the way.”

  “Yeah,” Donovan nodded. “Thanks for everything. I really had hoped that we would have finished this together. I wanted to see your camp.”

  “I know, mate,” he replied, but the swagman approached them and slapped Donovan hard on the back.

  “You’ll be seein’ your pappy in no time,” he mocked.

  Donovan reluctantly gathered up his backpack and took the spear. Then he went with the man as Neji watched them descend into the heavy green underbrush.

  As they scaled down the slope on the opposite side of the monolith that he and Neji had came up, the rock was slick where moisture seeped through the crevices. With his smooth soled shoes and his bandaged foot hindering their pace, the swagman had lost it long before they reached the bottom.

  One hard shove from behind was all it took for Donovan to go tumbling down the rugged wall and landing in the center of a gigantic termite mound.

  The semi-solid three foot gestation had only lost a clump of dirt, but everything around Donovan went white with the battering of thousands of larvatic wings. As they swarmed around his face and eyes in an aggravated frenzy, the swagman’s corks bobbed up and down, as he cackled arrogantly like a crazed hyena.

  “Ooh!” Donovan fumed. What he would like to do with those blasted corks if given the opportunity, he thought to himself. Despite the mask of mud, he was burning red with fury underneath.

  “Do it again and you’ll be sorry you ever sought me out!” He threatened. He wasn’t about to give this brute the pleasure of submitting to the frail little sissy that he wanted him to be, as he eyed the spear that had landed within arms reach.

  “This is no time to cop an attitude with me, kid,” his accent Americanized on the spot. “Your first mistake was looking at me cross. And your second.., for opening your big mouth. Believe you me, I’ve wasted more than the likes of you for a whole lot less.”

  Donovan began to perspire through the mud and it started to ooze down his face. Every nerve in his body was twitching and he suddenly needed to release his bowels, but he stumbled to his feet instead and stepped outside of the battering cloud.

  “Yeah well, my father won’t pay you anything if I don’t make it back alive,” he instigated.

  The man’s face hardened and Donovan realized that he may have crossed the line again, but since he had already spoken, he decided to stand his ground.

  In a dominating tower of intimidation, the man bent down and flipped up the tail of the spear and broke the shaft in two. He pushed Donovan to the ground again and tossed the narrow sticks beside him.

  Donovan looked down at the broken heirloom and Neji’s advice shot through him. “A quick stab from behind.., between the shoulders”

  He picked up the two pieces, wedged them into his backpack and settled on one thought. If that’s what it came down to, he would be the one walking out of the forest alive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sneaking undetected behind Donovan and the swagman, Neji moved only with their footsteps as he slipped in and out of the overgrowth. It just didn’t make sense to him why this man had led his friend down the steepest side of the escarpment, especially if he knew his way around the bush. There wasn’t a clear trail or road in that direction, much less a short cut. Eventually, it would lead to Katherine and a lot further than he would attempt on foot, so there had to be more to the situation than met the eye.

  He had sensed danger when he first saw the swagman, but when he pushed Donovan down the slope, it only pointed to one thingrevenge. His friend had dealt with him before.

  Whatever the reason, he would keep a lookout from a distance. With the mountain of stone behind him, he wasn’t far in the rear. Then the clouds shifted and cast shade upon the area where he was standing. A shimmering patch of sunlight remained fixed above his head, which was odd since there were no billibongs in the valley. He decided to follow the beam of light as his friend continued on. It would take a while to reach the source, but it might hold the answer to the puzzle.

  Leafy branches were piled high between a circle of trees, but the ends were still green. They had been broken that morning. There was something beneath the knitted jumble. It had the sheen of metal. As he pulled the limbs free, he noticed that the tan paint had scraped against
the trees. The jeep was rammed tight.

  Neji climbed inside and searched high and low. The glove compartment was empty, and under the seat was several crumpled beer cans, along with some chewing gum wrappers. The only tangible thing he had to go on was the rear view mirror that was tilted towards the monolith, as a clear indication of its location should the driver want to return.

  It didn’t make any sense to him why someone bent on receiving a reward would take such measures to hide. And he suddenly feared for the life of the Balanda he had brought this deep into the woods.

  It was a tough call. The two of them were probably more than an hours range ahead of him by now. And in order to meet the traditional requirements, he would have to get to the third sacred site, unearth the ceremonial object and make it back to camp before dark. He drew only one conclusion. He decided to forget about the sacred burial site for now and get back to camp. The elders were wise in such matters and would know what to do.