Graham did so. Glancing back he said, “Well, I don’t think he was a policeman.”
“Some sort of feral druggie,” Stephen replied. “Can we slow down? I’m buggered.”
Graham slowed even more, then pulled out his waterbottle and had a drink. That made Stephen realise how thirsty he now was and he cursed himself for not refilling his own waterbottles. However he said nothing and plodded on, shivering as the sweat dried in the cool breeze.
“Ten past ten,” Graham commented as he checked his watch. “I’d hoped to be home by now.”
‘I wish I’d never left it,’ Stephen thought bitterly. He was amazed. The struggle through the swamp had lasted over an hour.
As they tramped along he turned his mind to ways of solving the problems they had. The main one was to escape from the area. Of almost equal importance was what to do with his pack. Graham was obviously thinking along the same lines as he said, “We need to get back to the highway and across it as soon as we can.”
“Why not just keep walking along the beach?” Stephen asked. They were walking south and he knew that the beach ended a few kilometres further on at Red Cliff Point. That was where the cadet exercise had ended the previous year.
Graham shook his head. “No. I reckon these men will put someone at the picnic area at the southern end of the beach. We would have to try to creep past them.”
“So what do we do? Go back through that swamp?” Stephen asked, dismayed at the thought.
“That hippie’s van was driven in here along this track. I was hoping it would lead us out to the highway,” Graham replied.
“The men might be watching any tracks too,” Stephen pointed out.
“Yes, but I don’t think the tracks are all that obvious, particularly at night. It is worth a try. We can take to the swamp if we have to,” Graham answered.
Stephen accepted that and concentrated his efforts on walking, uncomfortably aware that his chafing was becoming worse and worse. The damp clothes and drying salt added to the problem and he wondered if he would be able to make it.
Ten minutes walking brought them to a point where an obvious vehicle track went inland through a dark tunnel of trees. Graham led the way along this, walking slowly and stopping from time to time to listen. It was so dark Stephen could just make out his form ahead of him. The sound of their footfalls was completely muffled by the fine sand they were walking on.
A few minutes walking brought them into an area of sand dunes covered with clumps of lantana and other bushes. The trees thinned out and the vegetation types changed. The track divided and Graham went left. This led them through a small tunnel of overhanging branches and around the end of a steep sand dune. On the other side the track surface changed to soft, muddy clay and the vegetation to blady grass with a few large trees.
Ahead through the trees Stephen saw the flickering of headlights as vehicles rushed past along the highway. ‘Only a few hundred metres,’ he thought with relief.
The boys came to a track junction, where another vehicle track came in from the right. Graham indicated they should go left and had just resumed walking when he stopped and swore softly. Stephen instantly saw why and his heart gave a lurch. The headlights of a vehicle had suddenly lit up the tree-tops and he plainly saw the lights as the vehicle turned in off the highway.
“Down!” Graham hissed. Stephen had already moved to a crouch and now he dropped flat. Remembering how his pack had stuck up above the grass previously he lay on his side and unclipped one of the straps so as to shrug it off.
Graham began crawling into the grass. Fearing that the vehicle might come along the track that he was lying on Stephen did likewise. It was blady grass and scratched and irritated but he ignored that in his anxiety to hide.
The vehicle came slowly in along the track, which wound through the trees. Stephen felt his mouth go dry with fear and his heart began pounding rapidly. He tensed for flight, gripping the pack straps. But the vehicle did not drive past. To his consternation it stopped about twenty metres away and the headlights and engine were both switched off. ‘They must have seen us,’ he thought and readied himself for another run.
There was the sound of doors slamming and then men’s voices. “Two tracks. We’d better not go any further in. They might come along either track,” said one of the men.
“I’ll tell Jorgenson the position,” replied a second man.
‘Jorgenson!’ thought Stephen in dismay. ‘They must be Federal Police.’ A wave of sickening apprehension at once again having made a stupid mistake flooded through him. For a while he again considered giving up.
There was a wait of several minutes during which Stephen could hear the men’s voices muttering. The beep of a mobile phone sounded and the second man said clearly, “He says to stay here. He will send Theo and Rolf to the Picnic Area at the southern end of the beach as soon as they get back out of the scrub.”
“Pass me those NVGs,” said the first man.
‘Night Vision Goggles!’ Stephen thought in dismay. ‘We don’t have a hope now!’
He pressed himself flat in the grass and strained his ears to listen. After a minute the second man asked, “See anything?”
“Nah! Come on, let’s make ourselves comfortable. We could be here for hours. Get those folding chairs out,” said the first man.
“I’m going to get some bloody mozzie repellent first,” answered the second man. “The buggers are starting to eat me alive.”
Stephen could only agree with that. The insects had begun to bite in swarms and he started to itch and had to resist the urge to slap. Graham suddenly touched him and Stephen jumped in fright, his mind being on snakes.
“Let’s get out of here while these jokers get set up,” Graham whispered.
“They’ve got Night Vision equipment,” Stephen hissed back.
“I know. All the more reason to go. Come on.”
Very slowly Graham began moving, but even the slightest movement caused the blady grass to rustle. Long before Graham had even turned himself around Stephen could tell that the men were now seated on chairs facing towards them.
Now began an agony of waiting and inch by inch movement. Thirst and mosquitoes both assailed Stephen. His head throbbed and his skin itched. To his added consternation his empty stomach began to grumble. Only when the wind gusted and rustled the trees and grass did Graham risk moving, and then only a half metre or so. Both moved by using a ‘hunger crawl’; lifting with elbows and toes to move a few centimetres at each try. Stephen had the added problem of lifting his pack forward silently.
It took a painful hour of sweating and crawling to move a hundred metres. Because it was too risky to move out onto the vehicle track they went through the grass, heading south with the sand dunes on their left. In doing this they lost the vehicle track. When Graham thought they had gone far enough away from the two men he turned left and headed for the thick scrub growing on the sand dunes.
“Why not towards the highway?” Stephen whispered.
“I will, but I thought we could get on the other side of that sand ridge and walk south another couple of hundred metres. Then we won’t have to crawl the whole bloody way,” Graham whispered back.
The sand ridge was only five metres high but was covered in lantana and shrubs. It was easy enough crawling through the clearer areas but the bushes kept snagging them and Stephen found to his intense irritation that dead leaves were caught down the back of his collar. He was unable to reach them to get them out and had put up with the discomfort. He crawled on, becoming more irritated and fed up by the minute.
At last they crawled over the crest of the ridge. Stephen rested for a moment against a very large tree and then looked around. ‘This will do,’ he decided. He called quietly to Graham, “I’m just going to do something. Be with you in a minute.”
By his tone of voice Graham obviously thought what Stephen hoped he would, that he was going to the toilet. As soon as Graham had moved on out of sight Stephen got
to work and quickly dug a hole in the sand near the tree. A few minutes later, after actually relieving himself, he carefully pulled on his pack and clipped the strap up, then walked after Graham.
He found him waiting in a small clearing. “Feeling better?” Graham asked.
“Much better,” Stephen replied. “That’s one problem solved. I could do with a drink though.”
“Here,” Graham said as he took out a waterbottle and offered it to him.
Stephen tried to refuse but Graham insisted. Gratefully he took several swallows, wishing he could drain the lot. “Thanks,” he whispered, handing the bottle back.
They set off again, walking slowly. Now they encountered a swampy flat of waist-high reeds and then marsh. This gave way to a thicket that was so hard to push through they detoured. Graham’s plan now came unstuck because they were forced away from the highway by the swamp and tangle.
After twenty minutes of frustrating advance that only took them a hundred paces Graham said disgustedly, “This is bloody hopeless. Let’s get back out on the edge of the beach and try that again.”
From the sound of the surf the beach was only a hundred metres to their left so they struggled through a belt of waist-high fern and weeds which were growing under a grove of spreading trees. Five minutes later they emerged on the sandy vehicle track, which continued on along the edge of the forest. Moving at a slow walk the boys continued on south.
Stephen noted that the wind had dropped and that the wave pattern had changed completely. The tide had gone out and the waves were breaking more heavily. The drop in wind was bad news as it provided good flying conditions for mosquitoes and sandflies and both boys continually slapped and scratched. Even though it was now after midnight it was so hot and humid they perspired as they walked.
Suddenly Graham stopped. He crouched and pointed, then began to back off. Stephen’s heart rate shot up and he pushed his glasses up to try to focus better. Two dark figures were just visible walking along the top of the beach. Graham turned and moved back into the bushes at a crouch. Stephen followed.
As he did he heard a man call, “Over there! On the edge of the trees. What’s that?”
“They’ve seen us!” Stephen hissed to Graham as he saw one of the figures point and the other raise something to his eyes.
Even as the second man called out it was them Graham grabbed Stephen’s sleeve and started running. ‘Oh not again!’ Stephen thought as he crashed through the ferns and weeds. The ‘not again!’ was muttered with redoubled emphasis when Graham suddenly went down a steep slope and pushed through a belt of springy branches. Stephen saw with dismay that another mangrove creek blocked their path.
“Only a little one,” Graham called as he waded in. Stephen could see that. The creek was only a couple of metres wide but in the starlight it still looked forbidding and they had no indication of its depth. Logs and tree trunks on the banks could easily be crocodiles and he hesitated before wading in after Graham.
He didn’t hesitate long as the sound of the men following them came clearly to his ears. “Over here somewhere,” one of the men yelled. There was the sound of a log snapping and then crashing and rustling sounds, followed by swearing.
“Down the creek,” Graham hissed, turning left and wading quickly along it.
The creek appeared to be only knee deep. Stephen waded in and followed. “What if there’s a croc in it?” he croaked, his throat dry with fear.
“Too small,” Graham replied.
‘I doubt that!’ Stephen thought, but he kept going.
He and Graham just managed to round a bend in the creek before the lights of two torches appeared through the bushes behind them. The beams flickered as they were swept back and forth and the light reflected off the water. “A bloody creek!” cried one of the men.
“Come on, get after them. They are just down the creek a bit,” called the other man.
“Pig’s arse!” replied his companion with feeling. “There are liable to be crocs in there. I’m not getting eaten just for a couple of kids who will get caught when it’s daylight.”
“Come here you kids!” shouted the first man.
‘Not the same men we met earlier,’ Stephen thought. ‘How many of these blokes are there?’
Graham kept on wading, then turned and climbed out on the far bank. This was all mush and slime and they had to cling to trees and branches to keep their footing but they made steady progress. The man kept yelling at them but made no attempt to follow.
The second man said, “I’ll call the boss and tell him.”
Graham led the way on into a black tangle of trees and bushes. It was slow going and Stephen had to continually shield his face from the branches. Gloomily he realised the men would be able to concentrate their search. Once again he contemplated giving up and suggested this to Graham. “We could get into trouble for running from the police,” he added.
“Oh poop!” Graham replied. “We can just claim we were being chased by some men and were scared. We can say we thought they were paedophiles. They’d never take it to court.”
At the mention of paedophiles Stephen shuddered, having vivid flashbacks to the time in Year 10 when he and Graham had walked over the Lamb Range in the night to escape the police. With a resigned shrug he kept moving.
It was a nightmare. The scrub was so thick it took them an hour to move a couple of hundred paces. They had to continually push or cut their way. In under areas of big trees wasn’t too bad but in more open areas they met huge clumps of lantana or thickets of tough little trees. Graham used his secateurs continually, reasoning that the men could track them in the dark using a torch, so speed was more important. They went over a line of sand dunes, then up over quite a sizeable hill covered with large trees. As they came over the inland side of this the sound of traffic on the highway became much more pronounced.
“Still bloody busy!” Graham commented. “It’s after One a..m.. The traffic must go non stop along this road.”
Stephen agreed, but felt too sick to debate it. ‘My parents will be beside themselves by now, particularly if the cops have told them we are on the run!’ He felt so worn out and sore he finally begged Graham to stop. “I’m stuffed. I need a rest,” he said.
So they lowered themselves onto the leafmould and sat. Graham shared the last couple of swallows from his waterbottle. Stephen sighed with relief and fell to massaging his overstrained leg muscles. He shivered and shook with reaction and felt so sick his sense swam. After a time he fell into a fitful sleep.
Graham must have also as Stephen found himself being shaken. He woke from a bad dream to worse. He had a splitting headache and found it was still pitch dark.
“Wake up Steve. It’s nearly four and we have to get across that highway before daylight,” Graham said.
Stephen could only mutter and croak. His tongue was so dry it felt glued to the roof of his mouth. His eyes burned and his skin felt hot. ‘I’m sick,’ he thought. Once again he considered giving up. It took an effort of willpower to make his muscles move when Graham stood up and called on him to follow. With a groan Stephen forced his aching muscles into action. A cramp followed.
The pain was so unexpected and severe that Stephen gave an involuntary cry of agony. He doubled up and pummelled at the red hot ball of solid muscle. “Cramp!” he gasped. Graham knelt and helped massage the calf muscle. It hurt so much Stephen began to sob. Even after the cramp had eased he lay for some time shivering and trying to cry from hot dry eyes. It took ten minutes of gentle warming up and stretching before he could muster the courage to try to stand.
After that it was a slow, shuffling plod, the highway getting closer and closer. Graham angled them into the trees and tall grass beside a creekline and took twenty minutes to move the last fifty metres. At last, at 0430, they reached the edge of the highway.
CHAPTER 21
HOT ON THE TRAIL
Graham crawled carefully up to the edge of the highway and peered along it from the co
ver of a clump of grass. All was quiet and there were now gaps of several minutes between vehicles. “I can’t see any cars parked anywhere along this stretch,” he murmured. “We should be able to cross easily enough.”
“But if there is anyone watching they might see us with a night vision device,” Stephen replied.
“You are right, so we won’t go over the road. We will go under it,” Graham replied. He then slid back off the embankment and began making his way along the drainage ditch beside it. This meant pushing through more long grass. Stephen followed and was appalled to see Graham crouch at the end of a small concrete culvert.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” he cried as Graham knelt and crawled into the blackness. “Graham! Anything could be lurking in there.” By anything he meant snakes but didn’t want to say so.
Graham said something that was muffled and then Stephen saw a dim glimmer of light as he turned on his pocket torch. In the weak beam Stephen saw that the culvert appeared to be just a concrete box with a bare floor. Feeling somewhat resentful he took off his pack and knelt down, then crawled in behind Graham.
The culvert was so small that Stephen’s head and back kept bumping against the roof. What little light there was from the torch was mostly blocked by Graham’s bulk so Stephen’s progress was by groping and crawling along. The pack had to be lifted and pushed in front of him and that annoyed him but he was determined not to leave it. Then Graham turned off his torch and it became so dark that Stephen experienced a surge of panic that frightened him more than he cared to admit.
The sound of an approaching vehicle grew louder and the concrete vibrated slightly. Stephen tensed, suffering from what he knew was a totally irrational fear that the culvert would collapse. Then the sound of the vehicle receded and Graham was crawling on. He did not turn on his torch again and Stephen had to master his claustrophobia as he struggled along behind him. The culvert seemed to be much longer than Stephen imagined it could possibly be but after a minute of anxious crawling they emerged in the dry creek bed beyond.
Secret in the Clouds Page 20
