Worth Fighting For
Page 33
‘Not a very good trick to get sick as soon as we arrived, now, was it?’
‘Sorry about that, ma’am. I’m a bloody nuisance, excuse the French.’
‘Yes, we’ve had enough French around here,’ she agreed, thinking of the very irritable Philippe who had left with the party earlier. ‘Pukz’s friend Tooh says he can take you down tomorrow, if you’re up to it.’
‘I’m sure I will be,’ he said, eating the yams and pork hungrily. ‘This is good.’
‘Appetite is back I see,’ John said, walking in.
‘Takes a lot to stop me eating,’ Joseph said between mouthfuls. ‘Could you let Tooh know I’ll be ready in the morning at sunrise?’
‘Are you sure?’ Junie asked, checking his forehead again, but the fever really was gone.
‘Feel like a new man.’
‘I don’t need a new man, I need you. I’ll let Tooh know,’ she said, patting his arm as she went.
Tooh lived not far from the clinic and she walked over, avoiding several pigs being chased by some children with sticks as she went. Digger ran with them and the children kept their hands on his back as much as they could, pushing against each other to have the honour of being connected to him. Feared at first, her big dog was now quite the village celebrity, winning them over with his friendliness and charm, especially when he rolled on his back and shook hands for treats.
‘Hello?’ she called into the empty hut, then saw Tooh on the ground nearby. He’d been sharpening a spear and stood to greet her.
‘Missus,’ he said with a nod.
She knew Pukz had been teaching him a smattering of English but she wasn’t sure how much he would understand, so she tried some gesturing as she spoke. ‘Joseph go tomorrow to valley,’ she said, pointing at the clinic then in the direction of the expedition. ‘At sunrise.’ She frowned, trying to think how to visually explain dawn.
‘Sun,’ he said, pointing at the sky, then holding his fist behind his arm and raising it slowly.
‘Yes. Very good,’ she added.
He smiled with a mouthful of uneven teeth and continued to sharpen his spear. Junie wasn’t sure whether she should go, but curiosity kept her there.
‘Hunt wam?’ she asked, remembering the word for pig.
He nodded. ‘And sef.’
‘Sef?’ she repeated.
‘Sef,’ he said again, holding the spear out away from her as if to shield her from harm.
‘Safe!’ she said, understanding. ‘To stay safe.’
He nodded, his crooked smile on display again. ‘Sef.’
‘From who?’ she asked, not really expecting an answer.
‘Kurelu.’ He shrugged. ‘Kuji.’
Junie locked on the word. ‘Kuji? You have seen him too? You… see?’ She pointed at her own eyes.
He nodded again. ‘Pukz, Tooh see. Litter.’
‘Yes, that’s right, the lighter. I have it,’ she told him, taking it out of her belt bag. ‘See?’
Tooh was excited to see it again and spoke rapidly in his native language. ‘Kuji,’ he said. He held his hand high above his head then pointed at her arm.
‘I don’t understand.’
Then he pointed at her beige shorts and back at her arm. ‘Kuji.’
Something began to whirr in the back of Junie’s mind. ‘Tooh,’ she said, trying to remain calm. ‘Come with me.’
He followed her in confusion as she almost ran back to the clinic.
‘John,’ she panted. ‘John!’
‘Yes, my dear. What’s wrong?’ he asked, coming out from the back.
‘Tooh said…Tooh, say it again. About the Kuji.’
Tooh looked reluctant and she encouraged him.
‘About the lighter.’
‘Oh yes, the story of the lighter. Pukz told me about that,’ John said. ‘Can’t imagine where they found it down there but I suppose it was a trade with some wandering villager.’
‘They say Kuji gave it to them.’
‘Kuji?’ John laughed. ‘But that’s absurd. He’s a mythical character – a ghost or something, not a man. What’s all this, Tooh?’
Tooh looked worried and didn’t seem to want to speak so John conversed gently with him in his limited Dani, persuading him.
‘I think he is trying to say they were concerned I would be insulted that they have met a god and I have not, me being a healer or magic man,’ he explained, then listened further. ‘So they didn’t tell me that Kuji gave it to them.’
‘Ask him what Kuji looks like,’ Junie said, her pulse racing.
He did so and Tooh chatted and pointed once again to Junie’s shorts and then their arms and faces, then held his hand high above his head.
‘He says Kuji’s skin is white, like he has died, and that he is tall, so he can reach the spirits above,’ John said the words slowly, sitting down. ‘How peculiar.’
Tooh continued and the doctor stared at him, stunned.
‘What is it? What did he say?’
‘He…he says he is afraid of him – that he will steal his spirit. He says we are like Kuji too but he’s not afraid of us – we’re not the same.’ His eyes held Junie’s as the last words fell. ‘This Kuji floated on a white cloud from the sky. This white man came from the gods.’
‘He – he could be a survivor, don’t you see that? From the war.’
‘It’s impossible,’ John said.
‘It’s not. People survive plane crashes every day. Look at those people on the Gremlin Special. That Margaret What’s-her-name… Hastings. They were wrecked in the same place!’ Junie held his shoulders, imploring him. ‘John, he floated down on a cloud from the sky –’
‘Native language is difficult to translate.’
‘He is white!’
John sighed, running his hand over his grey hair. ‘Even if some poor fellow ended up in the valley during the war, why didn’t he ever try to come out? He could have gone with Pukz and Tooh. He could have left any time he wanted.’
‘Maybe he isn’t right in the head. Maybe he’s traumatised – I don’t know.’
‘Maybe he doesn’t want to leave,’ Joseph said, who’d been listening intently. Thoughts of Lost Horizon leapt to mind and she shoved them aside.
‘There’s something else going on here isn’t there?’ John guessed.
‘Tell him, Junie. You may as well.’
Junie held the lighter in her pocket tight in her hand, debating how much to reveal, then figured she had nothing left to lose any more anyway.
‘I know who owned it,’ she said, handing it to John.
‘You…you know this man?’
‘Yes. He and his friends disappeared in a plane crash during a storm in 1943. Somewhere in the central inlands of New Guinea. They think. That’s all we ever knew – until now.’
‘And you’re saying…one of them survived?’
‘Well it’s possible! I mean they said at the time they weren’t wearing parachutes but what if there were some on the plane? We don’t know for sure.’
‘You think one of them jumped and now he lives with the Kurelu? Come now, Junie…’
‘It’s not what I think, it’s what I know: someone in the Shangri-La Valley owned this lighter and he is no ghost.’
John tapped the lighter on his knee.
‘You’re going down tomorrow anyway, Joseph. Why don’t you see what Marlon reckons and have a scout around while you’re there?’
‘Marlon was already going to try to find this Kuji,’ Joseph said, looking to Junie.
‘Marlon knew the men in the plane too,’ she admitted.
John frowned. ‘Well, you kept that pretty damn quiet. Do the others know he is hoping to find this Kuji while he’s down there?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘He is supposed to live near the oil sighting anyway and, well, we were just thinking it was a Kurelu who might know something about the crash site,’ Junie explained, ‘no-one else’s concern, really. Besides, we never even imagined…but now –’
‘Some people want to stay lost,’ Joseph warned.
The words haunted Junie as she lay down that night, knowing sleep would be unlikely as the magnitude of this new possibility washed through her. It was almost too much to consider, let alone predict, but a single thought stayed. Her only verdict for now, because she didn’t quite agree with Joseph – she just couldn’t bring herself to. Surely no-one wanted to stay lost, not really. They probably just didn’t know how to get back.
In the blush of dawn the pair made their way down, walking fast to make up time and catch the others. But in their path stood a woman, her skin the colour of the new sky, a large black dog by her side.
‘You vowed you would repay me one day…that I could ask you for anything…’
‘No,’ he said adamantly. ‘Not this.’
‘You didn’t put terms on that promise Joseph.’
Forty-seven
1949
The Shangri-La Valley, New Guinea
Thick, corded roots blocked their way and they wrapped themselves like vines at the base, making the going slow and arduous, but that was only one of their problems. The animals were joining in with the vegetation in trying to block their access to this hidden valley – insects stung whatever flesh they could find and spiders the size of a human palm alternated their visits with venomous snakes. If that wasn’t enough to put them on edge, the sighting of a crocodile on the other side of the river earlier in the day had put Philippe, in particular, in a constant state of agitation. He said it made Junie’s ‘wolf’ look like a kitten in comparative threat.
They were following the Baliem River mostly, no longer a welcoming yellow brick road as it had appeared from the sky. Up close it was a raging, dangerous beast that roared through this part of the valley in loud denial of permission to cross. Above it rose protective limestone cliffs that looked like skyscrapers from the valley floor, the only sign of man in the occasional plateaus at their base. Some had been tiered by human hands, although they were not currently tended and Pukz informed Marlon they had about two more days walk to reach the ‘black blood’.
A canopy of leaves gave them sporadic shield but it was hot now that the sun had burnt off the clouds, and Marlon called for a break, taking out his canteen.
Pukz said something to Dexjo, one of the village carriers, and the man immediately climbed a nearby tree to scout their position, bare feet running up the trunk with skill. Marlon’s eyes moved across the foliage as he waited, taking in a giant rhododendron whose white blooms were the largest he had ever seen, and the thick stands of wood ferns that surrounded them among the moss and lichen. Birds called constantly to each other, mostly parrots, he recognised, and Marlon felt the rich abundance of life here engulf him. It permeated everything, like it couldn’t draw enough into itself, filling every crevice and exploiting any opportunity to claim ownership of sunshine. In all it was certainly beautiful, when it wasn’t trying to kill you.
It reminded him of other paradises he’d witnessed, places where only those whose blood ran with it truly understood it. The Miwok, the Hawaiians, the Larrakia. And now these native people: the Kurelu. There was something very comforting about being in the wild once more for Marlon, like it welcomed him somehow.
Not so for Philippe, it seemed.
‘Merde!’ he exclaimed, peeling off his socks to view the blisters on his feet.
Felix crouched down to examine them, grimacing at the sight. ‘You really should wear thicker protection. Perhaps two pairs of these,’ he advised, looking at Philippe’s expensive business socks doubtfully.
‘How is it you wear nothing and I have this?’ Philippe said, pointing at the feet of Pukz and the carriers, who looked to their bare soles and grinned. They were interrupted by an excited Dexjo.
‘What’s he saying?’ Marlon asked as the man pointed north and called out something in rapid Dani.
Pukz yelled something back and turned to Marlon. ‘Kurelu.’
‘How many days?’
Pukz climbed the tree to find out and returned with his verdict. ‘One. Mebbe.’
‘What can you see?’
‘Fire.’
Marlon nodded, taking that into consideration. It could mean many things of course: hunting, a village, a meeting; a call to war. One thing was for sure, they’d soon be encountering this ancient man. And he had no idea what would happen when they did.
‘Damn,’ John swore, slamming his diary shut where Junie had scrawled her note, knowing he always wrote in it over lunch. When she hadn’t risen from what she’d said would be a long sleep-in, he’d begun to worry – and his concern had proven well justified. Looking at his watch, he figured she was already a good six hours into the jungle and probably only a few hours from Marlon’s team. What good would it do to chase after her now? By the time he got a search party assembled it would be several more hours and by then she’d almost have caught up with the others.
John turned on the radio, trying to make contact with the port, figuring Junie’s husband should at least be told where she was, as cold as he suspected the man to be. Junie Farthington was the ambassador’s most valuable asset, even a fool could see that, and the man she’d married had a right to know she’d just walked straight off the map, into a world where no western woman should ever dare to go.
What was concealed from the air was now upon her very skin as the forest engulfed her, swallowing her into its giant, pulsating heart. Every detail fed off the other; every tree, vine, flower and fern, every insect, animal, bird and fish. Humans were just another part of the whole that strove to not only survive but flourish in this rich environment. Despite her fatigue, her fear and her churning mind, Junie was entranced by this place and its trillions of secrets: flowers like lettuces, birds so brilliant no dressmaker could ever match them, trees covered in berries and fruits and chestnuts. Bountiful and abundant, the forest beckoned to her like Eden called to Eve, and she was connecting to its rhythm with each step, extending into it like it was her primal home.
It had a familiar echo, like the purple hills in Braidwood where the eagles soared, or the crashing waves at Burning Palms where the great southern lady hurled her skirts. Yet it was different too, like nothing she’d ever experienced, and it both frightened and calmed her; forbidding her entry even as it embraced her. It was almost hypnotic.
Joseph held up his hand, signalling them to wait as he crouched to read the tracks then, looking ahead, he pointed at the largest bird Junie had ever seen. She put a warning hand on Digger and paused in wonder. It was tall and perhaps heavier than a man, its back thick with silky black plumage, and it walked along the forest floor on strange legs, like those of a giant fowl. Junie gasped as it raised its brilliant blue and red neck to peer at them from a paler blue face beneath a gold crown.
‘Cassowary,’ whispered Joseph.
The bird cocked its head from side to side and Junie watched in fascination as it made its slow way off the track, as strange and peculiar an animal as she’d ever seen, fittingly prehistoric in this ancient world.
It wasn’t the only remarkable sighting of the day. When they broke for lunch, Joseph saw tree kangaroo tracks among those of Marlon’s party and Tooh was able to spot the shy animal in the branches above. It was a soft, brown-red ball of fur, more like a teddy bear than a marsupial, sitting not too far away from a brilliant green and yellow tree python that had wound itself tightly around a branch like a glorious hose.
The exertion of the trek had rendered them mostly quiet until now, but Joseph found his voice as they rested and was pleading with her yet again to let them return.
‘It’s too dangerous. We don’t really know anything about the tribes down here and if anything was to happen to you…’
‘We are a big party. I’m sure Marlon would never have come here if he didn’t believe we would be walking back out.’
Junie knew Joseph was right, and certainly she was sure if she’d thought about it more and been in a rational state of mind she never would have come, but she was sick of being told what to do, of being the ambassador’s wife: restrained and cautious and fearful. Those were the things that had kept her in a loveless marriage with false friendships, in a sham of a life where money and booze gave the only comfort. Where she feared the loss of the daughter she loved so much she had become lost herself.
‘It’s no place for a woman like you.’
‘Other women live here, have done for centuries.’
‘You know what I mean,’ said Joseph, frustrated.
‘You mean I’m not strong enough? Smart enough?’
‘I know you’re both those things. That’s why I owe you this debt! But please, Miss Junie, don’t make me pay it this way.’ Joseph watched her, his expression strained.
‘You don’t understand. I can’t turn back.’ And it was true. There was too much pain unanswered, too many other people who needed this too. She was doing this for Katie, for Beryl and Dorn, for the Rileys and all the other parents. For the Elite themselves.
And for Frankie.
But, yes, most of all – for herself.
The answer was close now, too close to resist. A white man lived down here. A man who had floated from the sky and kept a piece of Michael with him for a very long time. He knew something – maybe even enough for Junie to put the past, with all of its injustices and grief, behind her. To end the war at last.
At twenty-six years of age she would walk out of this valley with some kind of answer, whatever that may be, and take her first step towards some kind of happiness.
And as Marlon said himself, that was a start.
The night was filled with the discordant song of animal and insect noises, as expected, but that wasn’t what unnerved the party as they sat, listening.