Red Centre

by Ansel Gough

  Shawn’s excited voice burst out once more over the speaker-phone. “Dad! Damn! You won’t believe this!” He laughed, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Strange ... red ... light ...”

  Chris’ small phone speaker crackled. The remainder of the message was a mixture of distorted speaking, high interference and then … nothing.

  “This was the last we heard of him. He never made it to Sydney.” Chris pocketed his phone, his voice shaky. “Police haven’t found any trace of him. Not a shoe, his backpack. Nothing. Like he dropped off the face of the earth.”

  Frank folded his arms. “Are we done here?”

  “What do you think it means?” Chris said in a subdued voice.

  Frank stepped forward, pulling his gun from Chris’ loose grip. “You don’t need me to tell ya. You already know what it means.” He rested his gun on his shoulder, ready to leave.

  “Is your story true?” Chris asked with a desperate plea. “Was Emma taken?”

  “You don’t get it, do ya?” Frank grabbed the remaining papers off the hood and slammed them into Chris’ hands. “Your son ain’t coming back.”

  “I can’t believe that. I can’t accept that.”

  “Go home, Yankee.” Frank turned to leave, his back facing Chris. “There’s nothin’ you can do here.” He started to walk away, done with the conversation.

  Chris called after him. “Did you give up? On Emma?”

  Frank stopped, turned back to face Chris. “They thought I killed me wife,” Frank said through clenched teeth. He scratched his head. “Investigated me for months. I waited for months for them to return her.” His voice cracked. “Where the hell was I supposed to even look for her?” He looked to the bright-blue morning sky. “Ya just gotta hang on to the memories. The good times. There’s nothin’ else you can do. There’s no one that can help ya.”

  “I’m going to find my son and I don’t care what I have to do.”

  Frank nodded and turned his back on Chris, walking away again. “Let me know if you find a way to get him back from up there.” He pointed to the sky.

  “I don’t believe it! I don’t believe you!” Chris called.

  Frank waved his arm, shrugging off his comments. He didn’t care. “Ya said it yourself. The cops found nothin’. Go home.”

  Chapter Seven

  Third Kind

  Large information sheets littered the wooden walls of the small, run-down ranger station. Information about vegetation, colorful birds of all kinds—kingfishers, egrets, herons, rainbow bee-eaters. Chris read carefully over the information. He was intense, trying to learn as much as he could about this new environment. Photos of large, venomous snakes, spiders—large, black, hairy (the ones that will kill you)—provided warnings to campers and visitors. Dingoes and crocodiles rounded out the rest of the Australian information sheets.

  Chris glanced back to Lisa, who watched from her small desk. “Says here the park covers forty-six thousand hectares. Pretty big?”

  Lisa nodded. “It’s a big place. You gotta know what you’re doing out here.”

  Chris turned back to the information sheets. His eyes were drawn to the snakes and spiders. “Do people get bitten often?”

  Lisa nodded her head slightly. She knew he was hurting, but he was drawing unlikely conclusions. “It does happen, but it’s rare.” She pushed back a lock of her red hair. “Chris, I think you need to back off and let the police look after the search. If he’d been bitten, the police would have found him by now.”

  Chris bowed his head, facing the wall. “He’s still my responsibility.”

  Lisa smiled sympathetically. “Come on. I’ve got to check on some of the campsites. You can see some more of the park.”

  ***

  The big, four-by-four tires slid on the sandy, dirt track, which twisted and turned through the trees, over dirt mounds and through small gullies.

  Lisa and her old, beat-up Toyota truck were seasoned to these conditions, weaving through obstacles with skilled precision. The engine roared as it climbed over large rocks. Chris sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window in silence.

  The truck cab was messy. Papers, maps, first-aid kit, flashlight and other knick-knacks cluttered the space. Lisa had bulldozed it with both hands into the middle seat, to make room. She wasn’t used to having anyone else in the truck with her.

  She looked over at this stranger. She felt for him. She was naturally a kind person and wanted to help wherever she could.

  “Impressive isn’t it?” She referred to the landscape before them. An attempt to break the awkward silence.

  Chris nodded in agreement. “Sparse.”

  “These palms here are called red cabbage.” She shouted over the roar of the engine, pointing out past Chris. “We have about three thousand of them.”

  Chris nodded, not really paying attention, having lost interest in the conversation. He didn’t want the guided tour.

  Lisa noticed his lack of interested but pushed on. “They’re unique to this area.” Lisa glanced over at Chris, trying to engage him.

  His mind was elsewhere.

  It was wandering, pondering his family. They would need to have a big celebration when he returned with Shawn. A family vacation. A happy place! Are the kids too old for Disneyland now? No one’s too old for Disneyland.

  ***

  The sun was low in the sky. It would be dark soon. The four-by-four drove along beside a small river, until it finally reached Boggy Hole campsite. A picturesque area: blue water, lush green banks. The truck crept along slowly. Lisa surveyed the area. She noticed a campsite, a tent and the Baker’s four-by-four a little way off, amongst a cluster of trees.

  Lisa abruptly stopped the truck and reefed on the e-brake. She banged the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, annoyed. “Damn tourists! They never listen,” she said as she unclipped the seat belt. “Is it that hard to set up bloody camp in the designated area?”

  Lisa marched briskly toward the tent. Drawing closer she noticed that some of the camping gear had been tossed around. The back door of the Baker’s four-by-four was open. No one around. “Hello?” she called out. “Park ranger.”

  In front of the tent a small camping table lay on its side. A few plastic plates and cups littered the ground. Lisa squatted next to the table, picking up one of the cups. Her eyes scanned the site. What a mess. She looked around for the Baker family.

  She caught site of the truck’s big tires parked on top of some young, red cabbage palms, crushing them. She threw the cup to the ground and stood.

  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.