CHAPTER 18
Gary woke the next morning, laying on a mattress, pressed up against Rachel's back, a hand on her hip. Sunlight streamed through a large gap in the corrugated iron wall.
The dope had obliterated most of the night before. He couldn't even remember if they had sex. They both wore T-shirts and underpants, so he guessed not.
"You awake?" he mumbled.
Yeah," she said and rolled over so their eyes met.
"Umm, did we do anything last night?"
She smiled. "I don't think so. But we can now if you want."
He kissed her on the lips. She responded, briefly, before pulling away.
"Wait," she said and rose from the mattress. As she did, he admired her firm body. Obviously, not all witches were old harridans who rode broomsticks.
She opened a small cabinet and took out a jar. After removing the lid, she dipped her fingers inside and covered them with oil. Then chanting quietly, she rubbed the oil into a red candle. After lighting the candle, she stood it on a plate next to the mattress and lay down beside him.
He said: "What were you doing?"
"Casting a love spell."
While they kissed, her roughened hands slowly stroked his penis. Then she replaced them with the soft texture of her mouth. Gary saw her spell was definitely working.
After a long bout of frenetic sex, he slept for a while. He woke to find her, still naked, running her hands over his body. "What're you doing?"
"Taking an aural reading of your energy field." She looked concerned. "Mmm."
"What's wrong?"
"I'm not an aural mechanic, but I think you've got a build-up of toxins in the liver and congestion in the lymph glands."
"Is that bad?"
"It can make you aggressive and hostile."
Maybe he did have a build-up. "What should I do about it?"
"Drink liver tonic and sleep on your left side."
"Why?"
"That will stimulate the right side of your brain that controls the liver and lymph glands."
"Aren't you worried my bad liver might make me angry?"
"Don't worry, you're sending out good vibrations." She stood up. "Do you want to go for a swim in the creek?"
"Won't it be cold?"
"Of course. But don't be a wimp."
He sighed. "OK."
While they dressed, he thought about Robyn and wondered whether, if she was still alive, they'd have experienced this sort of happy moment. Sadness overcame him and he sighed.
Rachel said: "You OK?"
"Yes, why?"
"You just sighed."
"I was just clearing my chest."
"OK."
They finished dressing and left the shack. Outside, Gary looked around for Trixie and didn't see her. The bonfire was now a small heap of dying embers surrounded by trampled grass. Smoke curled lazily into the sky.
About a dozen adults, and a similar number of kids, splashed about in the creek. All were naked, including Trixie, who, he noted, was very well put together.
As they strolled towards the creek, he turned to Rachel. "How long has Trixie lived with you?"
"Not long. She's an old friend. We used to work together in Sydney. She came up here a couple of months ago."
"Why?"
Rachel shrugged. "Wanted a change, I guess. She's had a rough time recently. Her boyfriend died."
Gary felt a surge of excitement. Now he was getting close - really close - to the information he wanted. He tried to sound disinterested. "What happened to him?"
Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you. She told me not to talk about it. Forget I even mentioned it, OK?"
"Why? What's the big secret?"
She shook her head again. "Sorry, I can't talk about it."
Trixie obviously told Rachel what happened to Tony Thompson. Maybe she even revealed who killed him. But Rachel wouldn't reveal that information, at least for now. Best to drop the issue and return to it later.
He shrugged. "OK. Is Trixie also a witch?"
"Not yet, though I'm working on her."
"Think you'll succeed?"
"Yep, she's pretty interested in the whole thing."
Gary stripped naked and plunged into the icy water. Air exploded from his lungs. It was great to wash the sweat and grime off his body. He just wished he had a bar of soap and a razor.
A naked Rachel jumped in behind him and was soon introducing him to the other swimmers, whose names sounded like they came from a herbs & spice rack. Some he'd already met. Others came from neighbouring communities. All were friendly, except Trixie, who as usual kept to herself.
Nobody was curious about his background or what he was doing with Rachel. That didn't surprise him. Many were obviously wounded souls who'd crawled away from some life-wreck. They came here to escape their pasts and build new lives. So they only wanted to know his star sign. He said he was an Aries and they nodded knowingly, as if that explained everything.
While Gary floated on his back, the others gossiped about the previous night's festival: who slept with whom; who threw up; who got badly stoned; who fell into the fire …
After a while, Trixie left the water, put on her clothes and strolled back up to the shack. Soon afterwards, Rachel told Gary it was time for lunch. After hopping about for a while to dry off, they got into their clothes and returned to the shack.
Trixie had already laid out fruit, bread and pesto salad on the table. While they all ate, Rachel asked Gary about his life in Sydney.
He'd already said he was a high school teacher on holiday. Now, to win some sympathy and for the sheer joy of acting, he said his wife recently left him. "I got really depressed and decided I needed a break. So I headed for Brisbane to see some friends."
Trixie spoke up. "I know what it's like to lose someone close. My boyfriend died recently."
Gary's heart pounded. "Really? How?"
A violent shake of the head. "I'd rather not say."
"You sure? Sometimes it helps to talk about these things - get them off your chest."
She shook her head even more vigorously. "No, no, I'd rather not."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Gary felt a wave of disappointment. He'd had a tantalising glimpse of his goal, only to see it disappear around a corner. But there was no point pressing her any harder for the moment, so he dropped the subject.
For the rest of lunch, Rachel explained to Gary the finer points of witchcraft - the beliefs, customs and paraphernalia - while Trixie picked at her food and said little. Eventually, she said she was going for a walk. She tossed her leftovers onto the compost pile outside and disappeared.
Rachel said: "When do you have to be in Brisbane?"
"No fixed time."
She leaned forward and looked him in the eye. "Then maybe you should stay around here for a while."
Gary wanted to stay until he got Trixie to spill the beans, but didn't want to look too keen. He shrugged. "I'll hang around for a few more days if you'll let me. Then I'd better get moving. I get itchy feet."
She smiled. "A few more days would be nice."
After lunch, Rachel gave Gary a massage, which turned into another bout of torrid sex on her mattress. They'd just put their clothes back on when Rick strolled into the bedroom without knocking. He looked a little tired.
After they all exchanged greetings, Rick asked Gary if he enjoyed the festival.
"Had a great time."
"Yeah, it looks like it," Rick said, smirking at Rachel, who rolled her eyes. "We've got another ceremony planned for tonight. You want to join in?"
"What is it?"
"We're going to bury a few guys."
Gary furrowed his brow. "How'd they die?"
Rick smiled. "They're not dead. We're going to bury them up to their necks and leave them like that overnight. It'll help them connect with nature: take them back to the earth, the foundation of their being. You interested?"
Though Gary didn't want to be b
uried up to his neck, he was keen to fit in. "OK."
"Good. I'll come and get you around sundown."
Gary spent the rest of the afternoon helping Rachel replace some sheets of corrugated iron on the roof of her shack. He did most of the heavy lifting. But she drilled the holes with a brace and bit, and screwed the sheets in place.
He soon realised that he really liked her. True, she was very flaky and there was a lot of hidden pain in her eyes. But she meant well and wouldn't hurt a fly. So he daydreamed about dropping out and settling down with her. They could bring up some little witches and warlocks of their own.
Deep down though, he knew it wouldn't work. After a while, her weird beliefs would grate, and he didn't want to give up the amenities of modern life. She couldn't compete with hot showers, internet access, cooked breakfasts and watching test cricket on the TV.
That evening, Rick returned with half-a-dozen men carrying shovels and torches. He had several sheets of plastic under his arm, and handed one to Gary. "Here, take this. The soil will probably be damp, so you'll have to wrap yourself up in it."
Gary took the plastic sheet and followed the group out to a large open area behind Rachel's shack. They divided into three small groups and started digging holes in different parts of the field.
Gary and Rick took turns digging his hole. The soil was quite loose and it only took them half-an-hour to dig a cavity about the size of a bathtub.
Gary wasn't anxious to lie down in it. "How long do I have to stay buried?"
"Most people stay until dawn. But I'll check every couple of hours to see how you're going. If you're not happy, I'll dig you out."
Gary wrapped the plastic sheet around himself and lay down in the hole, with only his head exposed. Rick used the shovel to pile dirt on top of him.
Rick said: "As I put on more dirt, you'll have some trouble breathing. Just try to relax. You'll adjust."
As the hole filled up, Gary felt his chest constrict and breathing grow shorter. After a surge of anxiety, his breathing turned shallow but steady.
When Gary was buried up to his neck, Rick smiled. "How do you feel?"
"Is there room service?"
"Afraid not. Just relax and feel yourself become part of the earth."
"What if it rains?"
"Hey man, rain's part of nature too. I'll be back in an hour to see how you're going."
Rick dropped the shovel and strode off. Gary could only turn his head a few centimetres, so Rick quickly disappeared from view.
The sun expired and the stars popped out. A half-moon let Gary see the dark outline of a few trees and a fence bordering the field.
He lost track of time. After at least an hour - maybe two - his body started to cramp. He fought down an urge to scream for help and prayed Rick would soon return.
Another long period elapsed. Still no Rick. The cramping grew worse. Then, to his intense relief, he heard footsteps approach from behind. He tried to swivel his head and couldn't.
Rick stepped in front of him. "How do you feel?"
"Cold and tired; my muscles ache."
Rick crouched. "You want to get out?"
"Definitely."
"OK. But first, you've got to answer a few questions." His voice had an edge Gary didn't like.
"What sort of questions?"
"Like: what the fuck're you doing here, man?"
Fear made Gary's numb toes tingle. "What do you mean?"
"You're a cop, right?"
Gary groaned inside. This guy was obviously suspicious for all the wrong reasons. "What the hell are you talking about? Why would I be a cop?"
"You're full of shit. We both know why you're here."
"I'm a teacher. My car broke down."
"Bullshit. I think you're a cop."
"This is crazy. You're crazy."
Rick's shovel glinted in the moonlight. He used the edge to tap Gary on the side of the head and spoke savagely: "You know, I could take your head off right now, and nobody would know it was me."
Gary stopped worrying about cramp. "I'm not a cop, believe me."
"Maybe you are; maybe you're not. I don't care. You're a stranger, and I don't like strangers around here. So I want you to piss off."
Gary considered yelling for help, but there was no point. The only people within earshot were buried up to their necks. He said: "Sure. If that's what you want, I'll go. Just dig me out of here, man. I'll get in my car and disappear."
Rick stood and tossed away the shovel. "Good. But I won't dig you out. You'll have to wait until morning. Then you've got to go, OK?"
"Sure, no problem."
"And we won't tell Rachel about this little conversation, will we?"
"Of course not."
On that note, Rick strode off.
The next ten hours were hell. The cramp got worse and made it impossible to sleep. So Gary had plenty of time to ponder, when the pain wasn't too intense, why Rick suspected he was a cop. Rick must be doing something illegal. What? Gary remembered the plentiful supply of dope at the festival. Maybe Rick was growing dope somewhere, and that made him skittish.
Whatever Rick's motive, Gary intended to obey his order to leave. If he hung around and made a scene, Trixie would get suspicious and disappear. Then he'd be back to square one.
When the men returned, at dawn, Rick wasn't among them. By that time, Gary was in excruciating pain and totally sick of nature.
Not Dead Yet Page 19
