Just Visiting

by Graham Wilson

  Chapter 24 – Escape – Day 30

  Susan walked away from the billabong in the dark. It seemed like the longest day in her life and her body was shaking with exhaustion. She had not eaten all day except for those few biscuit fragments. Now that her work was finished she just wanted to crawl into a bed, under a warm quilt, lie in a foetal position and sleep.

  She climbed into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. Thankfully, Mark had left the key behind that morning, left it lying on the driver’s seat. The last time she sat in this seat had only been yesterday, but it felt an age. Susan knew she needed to start the car and drive away, but waves of nausea and exhaustion flowed over her. She laid her head back in the corner of the cabin, against the headrest, and closed her eyes.

  The horror of the ripping crocodiles swam before her eyes. With extreme effort she pushed it away. She stayed there, immobile, her mind numb, beyond thinking. She must have dozed because she woke with her head slumped sideways and an ache in her neck. Her hands stung from the chafing of the restraints and the hours she had spent cleaning, scouring and re-cleaning to remove all the evidence.

  She sat up straight now. Her head felt a clearer and the exhaustion seemed to have faded. She knew that she must get going now while her reserves lasted. She started the engine. The diesel roared to life. She let it run for a minute to warm up as she checked the gauges.

  Everything seemed OK. She looked at the fuel levels. The main tank was down to not much, barely an eighth above empty, but the reserve tank still had a third and the light was on, indicating it was in use.

  She found the light switch. With the headlights on she felt like she could push the darkness away for a few hours. She hated this whole place but felt better within the solid mass of the car, engine throbbing and lights bright, while she sat locked in her cocoon.

  She found and engaged the gears, let out the clutch and was away. She remembered now all the water she had used to wash the car, and it came to her that there may be tire tracks or footprints in this wet ground. With supreme effort she forced herself to stop and go and look with the torch. Sure enough there were several clear footprints and a set of clear tyre tracks for about five yards, until the dry ground. She scraped at these with the spade until they were indistinct and then threw some fresh dirt and leaves over them.

  Now she really was finished, she knew there was nothing more she could do here. She drove off and picked up the track leading away from the clearing, and drove out slowly, staying in first gear for a while, until she felt that she had reasonable control. She changed up to second and felt the vehicle move more freely. Sometimes the track turned sharply and she struggled to pick the direction in the headlights as she veered to the edge of the road. Once she thought she would scrape the passenger door on a tree at the edge of a sharp corner but she just avoided it with a last minute swerve.

  She had only a vague idea of where she was, but hoped she would be able to follow signs to take her back to the highway, then on to Darwin. For the first couple miles there was a single track, which came to a closed gate. This fitted with Mark’s description of a private place. So far so good!

  Now there were tracks going everywhere. It was hard to tell the actual road from yet another camping track. A couple times she picked wrong and ended up in a camping area alongside a billabong. A couple times she saw distant lights illuminating tents and turned away. She was starting to feel like she was in a maze, fraying at her fragile sense of purpose.

  Then a bit of luck ran her way; she realised she was now on a main road going somewhere. After about fifteen minutes of driving she came to a big gate on the road. She was terrified it would be locked, but it was not. She pulled the gate open, and drove through. She was tempted to drive on and leave it swinging, but she forced herself to stop, get out, and close it properly. She left the engine running; the thought of stopping the car and being unable to start it again giving her a wave of panic.

  She drove on. The road was wide now, well formed, and almost dead straight. But after another quarter of an hour it ended suddenly in a T intersection. The new cross-road seemed to be an important road but less so than the one she was on. She had no idea which way to choose.

  For no reason in particular she decided to turn left. The road went on for a few hundred yards, and then, after some minor sidetracks coming off it, it deteriorated into a track. Susan followed this, living in hope it went somewhere; however, after another couple hundred yards, the road came to the edge of a vast open plain. No further road was in sight, just a vast expanse of grass, which seemed to run out to a river miles away.

  Susan felt profoundly depressed, but knew she had to back track. She came back to the T-junction. She tossed up whether to return to the main road or try the other direction. In the end her need to be thorough overrode her desire for the ease of the big highway. She followed the other track. She almost felt relief when, a few hundred yards later, it ended in another gate. This time there was a lock that she clearly would not get through.

  While part of her felt profoundly dejected to be stuck in this maze, another part felt that this was progress.

  She found a place to turn round and headed back. At the big gate on the main road she now felt that this was the way out. So she drove on with renewed confidence. The road continued on, past a series of minor turn-offs, heading in a consistently straight direction.

  Susan kept on driving. She knew that, if she came to another dead end, she would want to cry, lie down and die. But it just kept going, seemingly on and on, forever. She rechecked her distance, which she checked along the way as she drove. She had come twenty-five kilometres since the last gate. That meant she had to be going somewhere. Still the road went on, further and further.

  At last there was a sign for an approaching T intersection. Susan slowed, almost to a crawl, as she reached what she thought was the intersection. Please God, let there be a sign. She felt rising desperation with nothing in sight. The road rounded a final bend. Gleaming in the headlights was a big shiny sign, pointing Darwin to the right and Kakadu to the left. It was a big wide bitumen road. The sign read Arnhem Highway.

  She nearly cried with relief. As the car headed along this new smooth road there was a big sign: Darwin, 135 kms. Tension flowed out of her, and a huge wave of relief washed over her. She knew she had as good as made it. After another hour and a half or so of driving, she would find a place to rest for a bit before she went to the airport to catch the plane home.

  The road was straight and easy to drive. She passed a lit up roadhouse called the Bark Hut Inn. She was tempted to stop, just to buy a drink, but knew she should not let anyone see her in this car around here. She came to a big river with the sign Mary River written on the bridge, watching a large expanse of clear dark water pass below. There were no headlights in sight and no signs of any people nearby.

  Susan decided that this river might make a good final resting place for the guns and other things. She stopped at the far edge of the bridge, climbed out and looked around. Then she stood quietly and listened, just bush sounds. This will do, she thought.

  First she picked up the box that held tools. One by one she dropped them over the side and into the water. As she was carrying the last things headlights lit up the eastern horizon. She quickly dropped the tools over and ran back to the car. She hopped back in and started the engine, ready to drive away if the vehicle showed signs of stopping. But it roared past and drove into the night. It was heading towards Darwin, seemingly impatient to be home.

  Last she took out the gun case and false number plates. The gun case fell straight down like a spear, entering the water with a hollow splash. Next she flung the six unattached number plates in different directions. It was like casting the remnants of Mark’s identity to the four winds.

  Leaving the bridge behind, as she drove on, it felt like a big first step towards removing this month from her life.

  She concentrated on driving steadily, n
ot too fast or slow. She passed a couple cars going the other way. The first time she forgot to dip her lights, until a series of angry flashes made her aware. After this she drove with lights on low beam, it was easier than trying to remember, another thing for her tired brain to do.

  As Susan continued she started to feel like she was almost back to civilisation. As her anxiety faded the fatigue really began to hit her. She found herself yawning, what she really needed was a really strong cup of coffee. She pinched her face, she moved her shoulders and jiggled her legs; anything to keep brain and body awake. She saw lights in the distance and then she was in a little town, with a sign that proclaimed Humpty Doo. She forced herself on.

  Reaching another big T intersection, this time with traffic lights and a sign for Stuart Highway and Darwin to the right, Susan let out a breath of relief—she actually knew where she was. Susan knew that the Stuart Highway was the main road from Alice Springs to Darwin. With Darwin barely thirty kilometres away, she decided that she would just drive for a little longer and then find a place to pull over and rest. Although it felt like the middle of the night the clock on the dash only read 9:30 pm.

  Soon she saw a big sign for a roadhouse and supermarket coming up on her side. She pulled into the supermarket car park. There were still occasional shoppers—perhaps it stayed open until late.

  She looked at her face in the mirror. Considering what she felt like inside, her face looked remarkably normal, a bit puffy under the eyes and her hair was a bit wild. She groped in her bag and found a comb, straightened her hair and checked her clothes for obvious marks. She took a last glance around—no one was close. Susan stepped out, careful to make sure she appeared casual.

  As she approached the doors they automatically slid apart. She stepped into an overly bright, modern, fluorescent lit world. The air-conditioning was unexpectedly cold and she shivered.

  No one seemed the least interested in her. She knew she had about eighty-five dollars in her purse. That would be enough to buy some food, a drink, some cleaning gear and maybe some new clothes.

  She picked up a basket and worked her way around. A block of cheese, dip and biscuits and a bottle of Coke. Next she collected a plastic bucket, detergent, methylated spirits, cleaning cloths, disposable household gloves and a packet of garbage bags. She also bought two cheap sets of clothes consisting of a tracksuit, T-shirt and socks.

  There was a map of Darwin for sale. She opened it, memorised the directions to the airport and put it back. It seemed fairly simple and she expected there would be signs.

  She paid, returned to the car and drove on. A few miles on she saw a rest stop and toilet sign on the left. That was what she was looking for. The only other occupants of the rest area were a couple of large trucks; there was no sign of their drivers — likely asleep in the cabins.

  After washing her face Susan sat at a little table outside with her cheese, dip, cracker biscuits and Coke. It was the first real food she had eaten in almost twenty-four hours. While part of her craved food, there was also nausea just below the surface. She knew she must go steadily. She ate slowly, one biscuit at a time, with a smear of dip and a piece of cheese, chewing each with steady deliberation, and following each with a mouthful of Coke. A couple times her stomach threatened to rebel as nausea rose. But she calmed herself with deep breaths.

  After she had had her fill, Susan climbed back into the car, pulled the new tracksuit over her other clothes and curled up on the seat. What blessed relief to close her eyes and let it all go.

  When she woke up the cabin clock read 3:13 am.

  Time to get active again, she thought.

  Susan opened the cabin and shivered in the chill air. Reluctantly she removed her new clothes, so she was back to her old T-shirt and shorts. She took out her overnight bag from the cabin and placed it, with her food and cleaning things, on the nearby table.

  She set to work, starting with a bucket of water and detergent, she washed every inside surface of the cabin. Then she climbed on the back and did the same for the cooler box, washing it first, then wiping off the excess with a second cloth. Next she swabbed all the surfaces with a cloth covered with methylated spirits. Then she did the same for the rest of the tray. Finally she washed the rest of the outside of the cabin as best she could. Without a high-pressure spray she could not really do the under-body, but she didn’t think it was very important.

  She surveyed her work; she thought it was enough. There was little chance of anyone recovering her DNA, should someone check the vehicle. It seemed important to her that there be no trace of her left in the car

  She took her remaining clothes and divided them into two sets. One set, including the clothes she had slept in, went into her small overnight bag, along with her passport, ticket and her other personal effects. She left one pair of sandals on the back tray. She put her overnight bag and its contents inside a garbage bag; this was what she needed for the return leg on the plane. She double bagged it, and rested it on the back tray.

  In a second bag she placed the rest of the cleaning gear, which she also sat on the tray. Then she washed herself off again, pulled off her clothes from before, and put them along with her other discarded clothes in another garbage bag. She tied this up and put it into a garbage bin nearby.

  Susan was naked in the dark. She quickly dressed in the final set of new clothes using disposable gloves. When she was dressed, she put new disposable gloves on her hands and walked over to the car. She laid a garbage bag on the floor and sat inside, careful not to touch anything else. She slid her feet into her new socks.

  Then she started the car and drove away, following the signs for the airport. It was just five am when she drove in to the airport concourse. There were a few people around, early morning cleaners and the like. She drove past the car park and looked in at it.

  Should she park in there? Probably not, it was too likely to have CCTV to capture her image as she exited the car. She wanted no direct link between the car and her.

  She had noted that the airport was only a kilometre or two from the main road, and on the other side of this road were housing estates. Susan figured that, if she parked on the street in front of one of these, it was unlikely anyone would notice a common four wheel drive. It would likely be weeks before anyone wondered whose car it was and investigated.

  So she drove back out and parked on the side of the service road opposite some two-storey houses. There was not a soul in sight as she climbed out.

  First she put on her sandals and lifted the other things off the tray. Then she gave the parts of the cabin she had used, and the back tray where her things had rested, a final wipe. She locked the doors.

  She opened the garbage bag that held her overnight bag, removed it from inside and sat it on the pavement. She put all the cleaning gear and other unwanted objects back in its own garbage bag. With this garbage bag in one hand, the overnight bag in the other and the car keys in her pocket, Susan walked towards the airport, following alongside a cycleway, walking on the footpath.

  She passed a bin at a bus stop and threw the garbage bag of cleaning things inside. She turned onto the airport access road. A few hundred yards along this road she crossed a creek. The car keys went in there.

  She could feel dawn approaching, though there was not yet any light in the sky. Her spirits lifted, it was a new day and her ordeal was almost all over. Her freedom, back to her beloved England, was close at hand. She noticed that her speed had picked up and her step had become jaunty. Susan consciously pulled herself back to a more regular walk. Don’t get too cocky now; there are only a few more steps to go.

  Her flight was due to depart at ten am. It was only five past six now, at least according to the massive clock inside the terminal. She was perhaps a bit early, but at least she had time for a shower and breakfast before she needed to check in.

  Susan headed straight for the shower sign. She luxuriated in the hot water and steam for a good ten minutes; she w
as determined to wash every trace of the outback from her body, washing it out of her soul might not be so easy, but she would try. Breakfast was a bacon and egg muffin and coffee. She bought a magazine from a newsagent, wanting something to occupy her.

  The lady at the check-in counter raised a snooty eyebrow when Susan declared she only had carry-on luggage. But Susan wasn’t concerned; it was her own business. She felt a twinge of anxiety as she passed through airport security, particularly about the little pouch of stones. But there was nothing in her bag that brought attention. Then she went on through passport checking and stamping. As she opened her passport for checking a slip of folded paper fell out and on to the floor. “You dropped this,” the man behind her said helpfully, passing her the paper.

  “Cheers,” said Susan accepting it from his hand. She didn’t recognise it, but she placed it in her ticket wallet; she could check it later.

  Then she was through and sitting in the departure lounge.

  The minutes ticked by slowly. Susan tried to read her magazine, but beautiful girls in beautiful clothes weren’t a good enough distraction. She tried to relax and pretend she was enjoying herself, but she was wound up like a spring. She kept expecting someone to call her name out.

  When boarding was called, Susan didn’t rush. Inside the plane a pretty stewardess, with long blond hair, directed her away from the entry door. A second stewardess, part way down her aisle, was directing passengers with a broad Cockney twang. Susan was comforted by the voice.

  Susan said hello to the woman, who recognised her as English for she turned to Susan with a bright smile, “Another English visitor, I hope you enjoyed your trip to Australia.”

  Susan forced a return smile; she could not quite bring herself to nod.

  At last the plane was taxiing out and soaring up into the sky. As it levelled out Susan realised she was still clutching her English passport. She went to put it away. It flipped open to where it had just been stamped, Australian Visitor Visa - Departure.

  That’s it she thought. That was what I was, just an English Visitor.