Ross River Fever

by Christopher Cummings

Ten minutes later the group came to a stop on the river bank at the Weir State School. Rat was waiting for them.

  “Yer took ya time. Theyse gone now, but I can still show ya where they went,” he said.

  “Are you sure it was them?” Carmen asked.

  “Positive. Forman ‘n Shaun ‘n Troy, in two canoes. One canoe had a heap of gear in it,” Rat replied.

  He mounted his bike and led the way along the bike path through Pioneer Park until they reached the area where the water skiers operated. Here he turned off and rolled down to the river bank. Toad was waiting there under a tree.

  “Seen ‘em Toad?” Rat asked.

  “Nup. They ain’t come back out,” Toad replied.

  Rat pointed across the river. “They went into that big backwater there.”

  Andrew’s pulses raced. ‘I was right!’ he thought. He said: “That is the backwater we searched yesterday.”

  “And where we found nothing,” Martin replied.

  “So their hideout must be well hidden. I did say we should search for it on foot,” Andrew replied.

  Rat looked horrified. “I wouldn’t go over there if I was youse. That’s Sheena’s territory.”

  Even as he said that Andrew heard the splutter and roar of trail bikes over on the other bank. “So how come those kids on trail bikes can ride all over it?”

  “’Cause they know not ter hassle her. If they stick to the tracks she marks she leaves ‘em alone,” Rat explained.

  “We have to go there,” Andrew replied. “Come on, we will have to risk it.”

  Despite the protests of Rat and Toad he turned his bike and set off back the way he had come. The others followed, but not before Carmen had made an arrangement and paid Rat and Toad to keep watching the river.

  Andrew pedalled back to the Black Weir and stopped. That was the quickest way across but a glance showed it to be a fearful risk. Floodwater was pouring over the weir at least knee deep.

  Mark joined him and then shook his head. “Too dangerous. We will have to go round by the bridge,” he said. Andrew nodded in agreement. After a glance to check that the others were following he set off back the way they had come. This meant ten minutes of fast riding in the blazing sun to reach Cranbrook Park and the Charles Barton Bridge. By the time they arrived there they were all puffing and perspiring freely.

  Andrew led the way across the bridge, noting as he went, just how similar the day was to the one three weeks before when Martin had been thrown over the side by the bullies. Thick grey clouds were massing to the east and up on Mt Stuart and heavy rain was falling in the distance. He shrugged and kept pedalling. It didn’t matter if they got soaked yet again.

  The friends pedalled through Douglas and on along Angus Smith Drive to the University turnoff, then around to the right and off the end of the bitumen. By then they were all tiring and had strung out so that Letitia and Anne were hundreds of metres behind. On the long upslope to the bend where the small hill was Andrew slowed down to allow them to catch up.

  At the bend he stopped and waited. “You girls should go home,” he said as they reached him.

  Carmen looked annoyed. “Why? We want to catch this gang too,” she replied.

  “There could be a fight.”

  “So? We can help. In that case you need us more than ever,” Carmen replied adamantly.

  Andrew shook his head but gave in. He knew his sister. When she made her mind up it stayed made up.

  Martin looked around. “Which way now?’ he asked.

  “Follow one of these tracks down to the other end of Black Weir, then work our way along the river bank searching,” Andrew replied. He dismounted and led them in along a rough dirt vehicle track along the south side of the low hill. This led across an old gravel scrape and down through a small muddy gully into flat, open savannah woodland. Off to their left somewhere trail bikes could be heard but none were visible.

  A patch of weeds and long grass was selected as a suitable hiding place for the bicycles. The group then padded along the muddy trail in single file. Andrew walked steadily but carefully, his eyes searching the bush ahead and on both sides. The bush consisted of waist high grass and a scattering of trees. These were mostly ironbarks about ten metres high so visibility was a hundred metres or so.

  The ground sloped gently down towards the river. As they got closer to it the vegetation changed to include more thorn trees and clumps of grey-green bushes which limited visibility. In places this was reduced to only ten or twenty metres. The track kept joining others, or splitting off, but the general trend was in the right direction. Apart from the reddish mud it was easy going and they arrived at the end of the weir after about fifteen minutes.

  By then clouds had moved overhead, bringing some relief from the blazing sun. A light drizzle helped to cool them. Andrew paused to study the area round the end of the weir, then led the way along another track beside a small creek into a thicket of thorn trees and weeds.

  Now Andrew slowed down and began to scout carefully. This was enemy territory for sure and his heart beat faster. Sweat ran into his eyes and made his palms clammy. The track he was following turned right and crossed the small creek. This was a pleasant little gully with a bed of sand and stones and a shallow flow of almost clear water. On the other side was a flat tongue of land covered in open bush and criss-crossed by trail bike and vehicle tracks.

  Beyond this was the first of the small swampy backwaters. This was completely choked with tall reeds and bushes. Andrew made his way right to the bank at the point where it joined the river and studied it carefully. Only when he was sure that there was no possibility of canoes being hidden in the reeds did he turn and lead the group around the end of the backwater and across another small gully.

  Another area of bush presented itself. This was more closely covered by bushes and thorn trees. To their right a thicker line of trees, weeds and bushes grew along the bank of the river. A track led to this so Andrew followed it and scouted several small side tracks. He poked along to the end of each one, even when this meant pushing through patches of weeds covered in prickly burrs. As all of them except Carmen and Anne were only wearing shorts this was irritating.

  Most of the trails ended with places where trail bikes had spun around just on top of the river bank. A couple of bike tracks looped back to rejoin the main track. One led into a small point at the mouth of another reed-choked backwater. This one was larger and had reeds so tall they could not see over them. Andrew pushed through weeds until he could see where it joined the river.

  Suddenly he sprang backwards.

  “Snake!”

  The others scuttled back a few metres and Andrew joined them, alarm all over his face. He stopped and looked back.

  “Gone now, down into those reeds.”

  “What sort?” Mark asked.

  “A brown of some sort,” Andrew replied. He warily advanced again, keeping a good watch on the place where the snake had vanished. Only when he could see the mouth of the backwater and was satisfied that no canoes had pushed in through the reeds did he return. Mosquitoes attacked him in swarms and he slapped irritably at them.

  As he rejoined the others the sound of trail bikes getting closer attracted their attention. Andrew made downward motions with his hands. “Down! Hide!”

  “Why?” Anne asked.

  “It might be the gang, or friends of theirs,” Andrew replied. He crouched down among the weeds and long grass and peered through a bush. The others did likewise. The engine noises grew closer, revving up and down with the distinctive sound of bikes going over rough ground.

  Three bikes roared into view along the main track, heading in the same direction they were. One was a red bike ridden by a tall, thin youth in a red and black bike suit. He wore a red and white helmet and was splattered with mud. The next bike was yellow but the rider only wore jeans and a once white T-shirt, plus helmet and goggles. The third bike was black and its rider wore a black bike suit and helmet. All had cloths over t
heir lower faces so it was impossible to recognize them.

  Andrew felt his heart rate shoot up as he crouched in cover. He hoped the bikes would not take the track they were hiding on. ‘We will look bloody silly if they do!’ he thought.

  They didn’t. To his relief the bikes roared past on the main track twenty metres away and vanished across a small tree-lined hollow. As soon as they were well out of the way Andrew stood up and led the group back along the edge of the backwater to the same track. On the way he peered into the reeds to check for secret tracks, concentrating as much on the ground for footprints as on the reeds.

  The track crossed another small creek and went up onto another scrub covered flat. They crossed this, searching all the tracks to the right which led in amongst the trees along the river bank.

  “No need to search the open country out to the left,” Andrew explained.

  A few minutes later they reached the big backwater. Andrew pushed through open scrub and across almost bare earth covered with leaf-litter to the very edge of the backwater. He stopped and waited for the others to join him. Directly in front of him was the tip of the narrow peninsula between the two arms of the backwater. To his right was the entrance leading out to the river.

  Mark joined him and pointed. “There is that camp we landed at,” he said.

  “Yes, but I can’t see any place on this bank for a secret camp,” Andrew replied, indicating their own bank. It was sparsely clothed with spindly paperbarks and short tufts of grass which left nearly as much bare earth exposed as it covered.

  Carmen pointed to the left. “What about across the backwater up there, where those trees and tall reeds are?” she suggested.

  It certainly looked more hopeful. Andrew agreed. “We will have to find a way around to the other side of the backwater.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard. That’s where those trail bikes have gone,” Mark observed.

  From the sound this was obvious. In fact the trail bikes soon travelled all the way to the other side of the backwater almost opposite where they stood. Then the sound receded again off along the river bank away from them. Andrew turned and started skirting along the top of the backwater, carefully studying both banks. Their own bank had no hiding places for a camp but the other side certainly looked more promising.

  Their route led them around the first small bay, then through a small creek where the head of the bay was choked with reeds. They crossed several steep little gullies which were difficult to climb because the drizzle had made them greasy. The soil was a sort of grey clay and was very slippery. Andrew led them off the tracks and walked through the short grass as being easier going.

  “And we won’t leave any footprints on the tracks,” he added.

  Now the sound of the trail bikes was heading back in their direction from up at the head of the backwater. Andrew looked around for somewhere to hide. The only place appeared to be down along the bank of the backwater. He walked across to this and stood on a small point to study the thick growth across the other side. As the bikes grew closer he watched for them. When the first flashed briefly into view across the reed choked bay on his left he crouched down and the others did likewise.

  They had no real cover other than the curve of the ground but, as they were twenty metres off the track Andrew reasoned the bike riders would not see them. ‘They will be too busy trying to keep control on those muddy slopes.’

  And so it turned out. The bikes dipped into a large tree-lined creek at the head of the bay and came roaring up the slope, wheels spinning. The riders were shouting and laughing as their wheels slithered and spun. Mud flew in showers behind them and Andrew noted that the fronts off all three were now just completely caked with mud.

  When the trail bikes had vanished back the way they had come Andrew led the way around the bank close beside the larger bay. This was the one whose head was filled with tall reeds. He found the place where he had waded through them the previous day and pointed it out to the others. A close study of the ground showed that the only footprints were his. The gang hadn’t been there.

  That was disappointing. Andrew wiped sweat from his eyes (the sun had come out again) and led them on to where the trail bike track plunged down through the reeds. Then he stopped and felt his heart palpitate with anxiety. Stuck in the middle of a track junction, and blocking the trail that went down across the creek, was a stick with a plastic skull on top. Painted blood trickled from the skull’s eye socket and a few yellow and green feathers were tied to the stick below it.

  Andrew stopped. Mark came up beside him. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Then he obviously saw the post as Andrew heard his breath suck in. “Oh! I see. What does it mean?”

  “A warning,” Andrew replied.

  Martin joined them and then the girls closed up. They stared at the pole with obvious concern. Anne asked, “What does it mean?”

  “I think it means keep out,” Andrew answered.

  “A boundary marker,” Carmen suggested.

  Martin nodded and looked anxious. “Sheena’s territory,” he added.

  That got them thinking. Andrew felt his stomach flutter and that annoyed him. “It might be, but they are only kids. They won’t do much to us,” he reasoned.

  Mark gestured to the front of his shorts. “Just cut off your...er.. you know,’ he said, blushing as he glanced at the girls.

  “Rot!” Andrew replied. His fear added to his anger. “They wouldn’t break the law by actually hurting us. But the girls should go back.”

  “Why?” demanded Carmen.

  “Because... because you might... well, you might see things,” Andrew replied lamely.

  “Huh!” snorted Letitia. “Be nothing we haven’t seen before.”

  That comment hurt Andrew, who was far from sure that the mysterious Sheena’s Gang would not really hurt them. “They probably don’t even exist,” he said, trying to convince himself to go on.

  Martin looked doubtful. “All the kids we have spoken to seem to believe they do,” he added.

  “Even if they do they are just rude kids. So we go,” Carmen said.

  “But.. but..," Andrew stammered. He did not want Carmen or Anne exposed to any danger or vulgarity.

  Mark pointed along the track to the left. “We could go along the other track, where those trail bikes came from,” he suggested.

  “No,” Andrew said. “The gang’s camp is beside the backwater, I’m sure of it.”

  There was a minute’s hesitation, then Carmen said, “Oh come on! Let’s go. This Sheena is only a kid, and we may not even see them.”

  Andrew felt anxious and was annoyed that his heart was fluttering and his stomach churning but he licked his lips and nodded. “Alright,” he conceded. He made his way down the steep track to the reeds.

  The track was a narrow trail which wound across the end of the large creek. In the middle it was quite creepy as the reeds were much taller than their heads and completely closed them in. They had to splash through ankle deep muddy water flowing down the creek, to Letitia’s muttered annoyance. She was clearly not enjoying the experience.

  On the other side the track went up over a low spur, then dipped across an open gully before leading right around the other side of the bay. The tall reeds hemmed them in on the right. The track then went up over another small ridge a few metres high and down across an even bigger gully about ten metres wide.

  Andrew picked his way down beside the slippery trail bike track and started to climb the other bank.

  “Stop!” called a girl’s voice.

  Andrew looked up in surprise. On top of the rise, stuck in the middle of the track, was another stick with a skull on it. The skull had an arrow stuck through it and feathers attached to it on one side. Again the girl’s voice rang out: “Stop! Go back!”

  The group stopped and looked around with a mixture of surprise and fear. Andrew felt his stomach turn watery and his heart rate shot up. He swallowed and forced himself to stand his ground when every in
stinct was to run. His mind raced. Was it the bullies? He didn’t think so and decided to take a chance. ‘Sheena’s Gang?’ he wondered, fear making his mouth go dry.

  To moisten his throat he swallowed then took a deep breath. “We are looking for someone,” he called back, his eyes questing the trees and bushes ahead.

  “You won’t find them here. Go back. This is Sheena’s territory,” the girl replied.

  She was somewhere just up on the top of the rise but Andrew could not see her. Sheena! She actually exists! The fear hit with redoubled force and he admitted it to himself. He swallowed again and tried to keep the quaver out of his voice as he replied.

  “We haven’t come here to bother you. We are looking for the Killer Turtles,” he explained. He knew it was a risk to say that as they did not know if Sheena was an ally or enemy of the Turtles, but he reasoned that the risk had to be taken to find out.

  That it was worth it was instantly obvious. “The Turtles!” the girl cried in surprise. “Are you mates of theirs?”

  Andrew hesitated. He looked anxiously around, checking for a withdrawal route as much as anything, just in case Sheena was a friend of the Turtles. Now he deeply regretted bringing the girls and was furious with himself for having led them into this trap. For trap it was. The others were all clustered behind him in the bottom of the dip. Close beside them on the right was a thicket of scrub and reeds and the only escape was up the rough gully to the left. He licked his lips and replied in a hoarse croak:

  “No. We are their enemies.”

  There were a few moments of tense silence, then the girl’s voice said: “Prove it. Who are you?”

  “We are the kids who have been canoeing on the river. The Turtles have been giving us a hard time. They smashed up Martin’s house and killed his pets.”

  “Are you the kids who tried to save Maggot when the Turtles chased him?” the girl asked.

  “Yes,” Andrew replied.

  The girl called out to someone else: “Are these the kids Sammy?”

  From behind them a boy’s voice answered: “Yeah, it’s them.”

  At that Andrew had twisted to look over his shoulder in surprise but now a movement in front of him made him turn back. From behind a bush just beside the track the girl stood up. Andrew gaped and went cold with shock at how close she was, and at her appearance.