But eventually, though really only a minute later, she had taken his hand and moved it up again. She had explained to him how they could not be lovers, how they were bound to others. Really neither believed it, it was a convenient fiction to help them stay separate.
It was not that she would choose him over Mark, or even David; it was just that she had such a great need for physical comfort and affection in her place of emptiness. And after, for a short time, she had felt comforted by the remembrance of this man’s touch. So instead she had cuddled into him, the way one does with a lover after pleasure. And for just a short time she had a beautiful sleep in a place where no horrors dwelt.
Then that had ended, the flight was over. They led her away to her cell, and he went to his real lover. She felt a pang of jealousy for what she knew they would be sharing. Since then the darkness had fully enfolded her, the days were dark, the nights were even darker, she could not remember how many had passed. Her dreams of Mark were now infrequent; mostly it was other reptilian monsters who shared her dreams.
Her friends and family came to visit but she could barely hear them speak, it was like they were talking underwater. And always they asked her to explain, to tell the truth. But there was nothing left to explain, only a loud silence which tried to muffle the screams in her soul. Now they barely came anymore, perhaps the underwater talking was hard for them too.
The only thing she knew with certainty was that she wanted it to be over, she did not know what over was, but there must be a different place to this, where she could walk in the sunshine and talk to the animals if not to people. Perhaps they would give her a puppy to play with. That would be nice. She could skip and dance, like a little girl once again.
One day, she did not know when, she realised the warden was trying to talk to her, to tell her something. Finally some underwater sounds reached her brain. It was the words, “You have a visitor.”
She asked what day it was. The warden said, “It is two days before Christmas.”
The visitor was a man who had dark skin, well sort of a yellow brown. He was old and not very tall. He had grey hair and wrinkled skin on his forehead. He said his name was Charlie.
He walked with her to a visitor’s room. The warden left. Charlie sat opposite her. She looked at him intently; she felt she should know him. Finally she realised that he was the cousin of the Chink who had cooked the pig at Seven Emus, the one in Marks diary. She did not know how she knew they were cousins, but he looked like him, at least a bit. It was the only thing that seemed clear in her muddled brain. That was good, she had liked that man and she remembered the taste of the food. Perhaps they could make pork dumplings together, here in this room, using the stove that she could now see in the corner where she had only seen a bare wall, when he came in. He must have carried it in with him, but she could not remember that.
Charlie was trying to get her to look at him, she realised he was pointing to her and talking. She tried to hear what he was saying but it sounded garbled. He indicated that he wanted her to hold out her hand, put it on the table. She did and he took it in his.
Suddenly the fog cleared from her brain. She could see and hear clearly now for the first time in days. She went to pull back her hand, almost involuntarily, feeling suddenly confused by all the brightness and noise around her. He held on firmly.
She looked down at the table. Both his hands were laid there, side by side. One was firmly around her own hand, the other was holding something flat and round. She looked at it in puzzlement. Now he took her hand that he was holding and turned it palm uppermost. He placed the round object into her hand. It felt cool and smooth, like a flat river stone. As her fingers closed around it he let her hand go.
He sat still and looked at her with an appraising face. Her mind remained clear. She could feel something passing from her, going into the stone; it was like it was drawing the darkness out of her mind. She asked “What it is?”
He answered “A crocodile spirit stone, very powerful medicine”.
Charlie could see she did not understand so he explained.
She nodded, even though she could not understand it seemed to make sense.
Charlie continued talking, “Last week, man and lady, bit old but not so old as me, they come to see me. Sergeant Richard, Alan, he tell them, maybe they should talk to me. They trying to understand this bad thing. They say they your mother and father. They say very worried because you sit in this room, say nothing, talk to no one, like you cannot hear.
“I know you, you that one they say murder the man in the billabong, out longa Mary River.
“I find that head, man who belong to crocodile, when I was fishing for catfish. I see the bad spirit try take him back. He fight with me, when I find that head, try to pull it back, I already caught two big catfish for Rosie to make fish curry. Then I try to catch one more fish, but instead I catch head. When I catch head, that crocodile spirit pull back, try to take it away from me.
“But that man, him belong head, he not want to go back with that crocodile spirit. He want to come out, he want to see you, he want you to touch him, even if dead. But that bad crocodile spirit, him really want to keep head too. I am in tug of war middle. I pull head one way, crocodile spirit pull other way. But finally I win. Now crocodile spirit very angry and sad.
“I think, maybe if crocodile spirit cannot have man it try to have you instead. Man love you, you love man but kill him because frightened. Now man comes to you in dream, you still love man, but crocodile spirit comes too, gets inside your head, make it a dark and bad place. Rest of world goes dark. You cannot hear, cannot see, cannot think proper.
“So when the mother and father tell me this I say I will try to help. I will go see medicine man and get crocodile stone.
“In my country we hunt and kill crocodile, eat meat of crocodile. Sometimes we find this stone inside crocodile belly, we call crocodile spirit stone. When crocodile eat fish or kangaroo, everything goes away, all taken and used up by crocodile. But this stone sometimes left behind. Crocodile cannot take it, is even stronger spirit than crocodile.
“So, when you hold it, it can stop other crocodile spirit, where stone is other bad crocodile spirit not come.
So we call crocodile spirit stone. Very expensive stone, hard to get, but medicine man owe me favour. Rosie make him special crocodile curry. So he lend me stone and I lend you same stone. But we must give it back to medicine man one day.
Now you keep stone, put stone in hand or pocket all times, have stone next to you when you sleep. While stone is close, bad crocodile spirit cannot come. In one week may two week, crocodile spirit get tired and go away.
Now I go away, but I come to visit you next week and bring Rosie’s curry. It make you strong”.
So Susan kept the stone touching her skin that night. It was the first night in months her dreams were clear. Next morning she woke able to think clearly. She knew what day it was. She knew where she was. It did not take her troubles away or make her happy but at least she could see and hear the world again.
Around lunch time there was the sound of visitors arriving, not just one or two but several. There was her mother and father and Tim, there was Anne and David. They had set up a little Christmas tree on a table, with presents around it and a Christmas cake and treats. For two hours they all sat around, laughing and talking and listening to Christmas carols. They would not be able to visit tomorrow, but this was the next best thing. Susan felt grateful for another ray of sunshine, though she was sad when they were gone.
She settled into the late afternoon, determined today, now that her mind was clear to read a book to try and pass the time. Maybe she could even read tomorrow as well so she did not feel so lonely.
There was a banging sound on the door. It was past visiting time. It could not be another visitor for her. There were a man’s voice raised, not heated, but in serious discussion. The warden came to her cell.
“You have another visitor, I know it is past time,
but he is very persuasive, so I have told him he can see you for half an hour.”
Chapter 24 – Tell Me the Truth?
Susan wondered who could have come to see her and talked his way in, so late in the day. Hopefully not the police with a new revelation or another delaying tactic!
She sat in a chair facing the table and waited, feeling anxious. She could hear a voice saying, “I need you to leave us alone, undisturbed for at least ten minutes. I promise I won’t hurt her or try to smuggle something in to her, you may search me if you want”. Then some more muttering voices, and finally the door opened.
In front of her stood a mid-sized wiry man. He had dark hair and features. Susan knew she should know who he was but, out of practice thinking, her mind seemed to move very slowly. He walked up towards her, business like, without emotion.
He said, “Hello Susan, remember me?”
Finally recognition dawned. It was Vic, actually Vikram, the helicopter pilot from that day in the Gulf; it seemed like a century ago. She remembered his former trademark grin and smiling face, with mischievous twinkling eyes, but there was no sign of any of this now. His face had a hard, angry set.
But he was her friend and Mark’s friend, they had spent a wonderful day together, she could not remember him without pleasure and affection. A spontaneous smile came to her face. “Vic, it is hard to believe, it seems so long ago, can it really be you?” Then she pulled up her babble, seeing his face had not shifted. She tried to be business like too. “Thank you for coming to see me, can I help you in some way?”
She could see him calming himself, he was definitely angry. He said, “Last Sunday the police came to see me, a Sergeant Richards. I had not heard the news for several months, not really since I last saw you.
He told me that, at the end of September, the body of my best friend, Mark, had been found in a billabong. He said he had been murdered and the murderer was you.”
Vic spoke words that sounded unreal, like a news report about someone else. Susan found it hard to believe he was talking about her as a killer, it must be someone else.
Vic continued, “At first I could not believe it, that you had done it. So he took me through the evidence. In the end I agreed, it seemed clear. But it did not make sense. So I have come to see you, to ask you to your face. Did you murder my friend, and if so why?”
Susan felt shocked when she heard him say those words. There was no courtroom courtesy or police politeness in the way he asked the question. He spat it out in barely suppressed anger. He was angry with her, really angry. She could not quite understand the reason. She muttered something to herself; she did not know how to reply. She turned her head to the side, seeking time to think.
In a flash Vic had come round the table, pulled her from her chair and hauled her to her feet to face him, face to face only inches away. He asked again, speaking slowly and clearly, enunciating each syllable, “Did you kill my friend Mark?”
She tried to look away from the ferocious eyes. His hand flashed at her face, hitting her cheek with an open handed slap. She turned her face away from the blow. He hit her again with his other hand, another slap to the other side of her face.
It seemed he had broken something inside her mind, a wall of silence and denial. She could not avoid his eyes anymore. They bored in to her, determined to know. Part of her felt like crying. Another part felt an exultant joy knowing this man cared and grieved for his friend, her Mark.
She faced him squarely and looked back. “Yes,” she said, “Yes I killed Mark. That is what everyone says and it is true. I stabbed him with a knife then hit his head with a piece of wood. As he lay on the ground not moving, I dragged his body to the water so the crocodiles could take and finish him.”
Vic looked stunned now. She thought he had expected more silence or denials, not this. He turned his face away from her, she could see his shoulders shaking, she realised he was crying.
A minute passed. He looked at her, composed again. “Why? Did you really have to kill him? I thought you loved him. I know he loved you. Whatever happened? Surely you could have worked it out, if you had a fight. Why did you kill him?”
Susan realised that she could not run away from this answer with him. For others it was just a legal formality. They did not know the man, they did not really care. But this man compelled her to answer. He knew Mark, he cared that he was dead. So she must tell the truth at least as far as she could without adding another betrayal to Mark.
She said, “I killed him because I was frightened. I thought he was going to kill me. I know now I was wrong. And I must live with that terrible thing I did for the rest of my life.”
With her answer it seemed like the anger and fight went from Vic, he looked deflated. He sat now with his body slumped into his chair. Susan sat down, facing him across the table. She waited; it was his turn to speak. He sat silent for a minute, looking uncertain. Then he said, “Please tell me why you were frightened of him. What did he do?”
Susan shook her head. “Please believe me, I would tell you if I could. But I cannot. I must face the consequences of my actions. When this is over I expect I will be in jail for a long time for what I have done and that is fair. Until today, when I saw you, I was going to remain silent in the trial; I was not going to enter a plea.
“But that would be wrong. It would keep the truth from people like you who knew Mark and care. So now I see it clearly. I will plead guilty. I will say, ‘Yes I killed him’, as I said to you. The court must then determine my punishment for deliberate murder, the reason is not relevant and I will not be saying it.”
Vic said, “I am sorry I hit you, but I needed to know.”
Susan replied, “I am glad that you did, it showed me you cared. Until today I have not met anyone who cared what happened to Mark. So I don’t want you to undo that slap, it told me something really important, that Mark mattered to someone else, like he does to me.”
Vic looked back at her. “But what about you, don’t you care what will happen to you, just to protect a secret?”
Susan said, “Sometimes secrets are worth protecting. One must pay the price that loyalty requires. I do not look forward to a life in prison. But if that is my only choice, then I will do it, as best I can.”
There was something un-naturally calm in Susan’s demeanour. Vic knew it was a sign of trouble to come. She pretended to be strong but was not strong enough for this.
She said, “There is one thing I must tell you. I am carrying his child. In part my choice it is to protect our child and its legacy. It is enough that this child has a killer for a mother, any more would be too big a load for any child to bear.”
Vic replied, “There is something I must also tell you. On that day I met you, before the helicopter trip, Mark asked me to witness his will which named you as his beneficiary. I don’t know what has become of it. Mark also told me, in the event of his death, that he was relying on me to protect you, in the way a brother would do. I promised I would try. So it seems I have two obligations to fulfil. I am not doing well in meeting either.
“In addition there is one more thing I want to ask you, it is only a request. In the years when Mark and I worked together he would often go off, early in the morning, and write into his diary. I sometimes asked him what he wrote and why. He would say, ‘It is both to release my demons and tell of my joy. The paper on which I write is the window into which my soul speaks. It tells of all, both the good and bad.’
“Once he read me a little story he wrote in it about my helicopter, as viewed by a bird flying outside. It was very funny. The bird told of my strange looks and antics, how clumsy I was compared to its skill in the air. I asked if I could read it for myself.
“Mark said, ‘No, it is private, for my eyes only while I live. But if anything happens to me, it will be yours to read. Then you will know of the real me, the good and the bad, particularly the bad. After that you may tell the world my story if you chose, even the bad.’
“I have
never seen Mark’s bad, I know only of his friendship. But I would wish to hold him to his promise, to know who he was and what is lost. As you were the last person to see him I ask if you know what became of this book, his diary. It was kept in his briefcase, which was stored behind his seat. But when the car was found everything of his was gone. So I ask you, on account of his promise to me, Can you tell me what became of this book, that which told the story of his life, his diary?”
Susan sat quiet and still for a long time. It was as if she had not heard what he had said. Mark had entrusted the diary to her and he had also promised it to Vic. The promise to Vic had been made long before the promise to her. Did his promise to her invalidate this same promise to Vic, to allow him to read and decide what to tell the world after Mark was gone.
It was his ultimate sign of trust to allow another to see his inner-most soul, with all of its secrets. He had given to both of them an unconditional right to do so and in giving it to her he had not taken it away from his friend. So she must honour this promise to Vic. Knowing what was to be told her mind trembled at the consequences. But trust was trust and promises must be respected. Even her unborn child could not stand in front of this.
So now she sat down and took off her left shoe, a plain black sandal with a leather instep. With her finger nails she prised its leather edge loose in the centre. Underneath lay a small plastic square. She removed this plastic coated object, a memory card wrapped in sticky tape. It was barely a centimetre by a centimetre by a millimetre thick.
Crocodile Spirit Dreaming - Possession - Books 1 - 3 Page 46
