Fire Eye (20 page)

Charcoal and Davey rein in under the cool shadows of a boab tree after a hard day’s ride. Their horses rest under the trees, nibbling on grassy tussocks clinging stubbornly to the red soil among the eucalyptus and paper bark trees. The sun is close to touching the horizon. They roll out their bedding, coax a fire out of fallen timber and throw potatoes wrapped in leaves into the coals.

While Charcoal tends the horses, Davey takes the rifle and stalks into the bush. He hasn’t been long gone before Charcoal hears the crack of the Winchester and the distinct thump of a bullet hitting a soft target. Davey returns with a satisfied smile and throws the kangaroo on the fire, turning it by its legs until it frizzles and stiffens. He rubs the burnt fur off with a stick, his eyes immune to the smoke and his face impervious to the heat radiating from the coals.

After nightfall, they eat with the knives that live daily in the weathered leather sheaths strapped to their belts, ready for any task. They slice pieces of potato and kangaroo and slip them into their mouths while casually reviewing the day. The evening air currents gently waft the smell of burning coals and the aroma of the kangaroo into their nostrils as their eyes gaze into the night sky. It is a natural habit that has always been with them as they tend cattle across the vast landholdings of the stations they work.

Charcoal lowers his eyes and stares into the flames, dancing across the surface of the remaining coals. “Sump’n’s goin’ on I don’t like,” he says, pronouncing his words carefully as he slips a piece of kangaroo into his mouth, enjoying its tender juices. “These people are not together. The first ones don’t know they’re bein’ followed. The ones following don’t want to be discovered.” He stares into the coals and reaches over to toss more wood onto the fire.

“That don’t sound good Charcoal,” Davey responds as he lowers his eyes from the night sky and looks over to his mate and leader. They have spent many years together in the bush, hard times and danger forging a bond well beyond family connections. “Tomorrow, maybe I should go back and let the boss know what’s going on.” He reaches over to the wood pile and throws his own piece onto the fire.

Charcoal lets the flames begin devouring the wood before responding. “We’ll see what ‘appens tomorrow Davey,” he replies. “It might be nothing. Might be bad things starting.”

His words leave Davey a little uneasy. Until now, everything in Davey’s life has always been straight forward. Charcoal has created certainty with his skill and stamina. It’s a new sensation to feel doubt nag at him.

“Let’s just see what tomorrow brings,” Charcoal decides. A determined purpose has brought these people out here and it isn’t hunting or fishing. They are swinging toward Aboriginal land. There is only one thing he knows that would pull white people toward it. He’s heard the vague stories about what lies out there in the sacred ground. He has no choice but to believe them as he’s never been out there and knows of no one who has. The taboos of the sacred site and the stories of Ungondangery keep his people away.

As he sits and stares into the red hot embers, he wonders whether the country houses a secret that can no longer be hidden. “We will see what tomorrow brings,” he announces again without looking up.

Davey nods in agreement, both staring into the fire, as men have since the Dreamtime.

Jed wakes early but doesn’t move as dawn stealthily approaches. His senses play with the sounds and feelings around him as he rests in the hollow. The night has not been cold and he is aware his arm is still draped over Alex as she lies curled in sleep. In no hurry to move, Jed feels the warmth of her body and listens to her relaxed breathing. It feels natural and comfortable to be close to her and his body stirs in response as her subtle womanly scent teases his nostrils.

The early morning light silhouettes the beach and ocean well before the sun creeps above the horizon. Jed lies quietly and lets his mind review the sounds he picked up during the night, interspersed by dreams of flying with his arms spread wide as his body rises into the sky. He read that dreams of flying are interpreted as ambition and striving to achieve a goal. Today is the day their goal will be achieved.

Tempted to stay alongside Alex, Jed knows he should be stirring to prepare for the day. Instead he succumbs to temptation and cradles her a little more tightly, moving his body closer so it matches the curve of her own. Guiltily enjoying the sensation of her body so close to his, he lets the moment drag on.

Unconsciously she snuggles into him. A tremor of fear runs through him in case she senses what he is doing, but nothing happens. He steals a few extra minutes, enjoying the feeling of her curled up against his body. He visualises what he would like to be doing and then carefully lifts his arm and rolls sideways into a standing position. His limbs are stiff and his back fights against the act of walking, but he perseveres. Soon the blood starts flowing and his movements return to normal. He looks back at Alex still curled peacefully in the sand and bends to toss branches onto the remaining coals of the fire. He kneels down to blow the embers back into life. The flames are resurrected and fulfil their mission of consuming the timber, creating light and heat.

Drawing his knife, Jed heads over to the rocky point thrusting into the calm waters of the bay. With care he prises off oysters and mussels from the rocks just below water level and tosses them into the billy. It doesn’t take long to fill it and he carries it over to the trickle of fresh water running down the face of the bluff behind their camp to clean them before filling the billy again and placing it on the fire.

Alex hears him pottering around the camp and stirs, stretching herself in the hollow before opening her eyes and looking over toward him. Even though she slept soundly, she had sensed him lying against her and been conscious of the pressure of his arm draped over her body. She would never acknowledge it aloud, but she enjoyed the contact and sense of security the closeness created. She also sensed how he eased his body closer to her, feeling his hardness. Her subconscious had been on alert for any unwanted touch, but it hadn’t eventuated. She is happy it didn’t.

“Just getting some breakfast ready,” says Jed, squatting by the fire and feeding it more wood.

“Sounds like a great idea!” Alex stretches and rolls up into a sitting position. “I didn’t think we were getting any.”

Jed is tempted to shoot back a humorous remark about not getting any but figures he doesn’t need a smack in the head. “I changed my mind. We have the time and it’ll be a big day.”

“Won’t argue with that.” She reaches for the spear and steps out of the hollow to survey the early morning scene. Jed eyes her figure silhouetted against the morning sky, highlighting the curves of her breasts, body and legs down to where they merge with the sand.
She has one hell of a body.
He shakes the thought from his head. It’s the wrong time to be thinking about that.

“I’ll see if I can add anything to breakfast,” she offers and heads over to the rocks where she had success the night before. Jed puts the shellfish to one side, tends the fire and wanders down to the water’s edge to wash his face in the glassy smooth water. As he crouches over a rock pool he runs his hands over his face and feels the stubble beginning its rampage. He normally shaves twice a day and can well imagine what he is starting to look like ― modern day man reverting to his Cro-Magnon ancestors. Fancy thinking about his image at a time like this! But he has to admit that he is aware of the importance of image. Then again, he knows damn well he has projected an image over the years that some people can’t handle. It has cost him some opportunities but he really doesn’t care. He knows he can never work for anyone who can’t see who he really is.

Hearing a yell of triumph, Jed looks up to see her once again standing legs apart on the rocks in victory, holding the spear and an impaled fish above her head. The bay has potential to be a veritable supermarket of fresh fish. With such an availability of good, fresh bush tucker, he can understand why the lifestyle could eliminate the need to invent a refrigerator and the dependency that goes with it.

“Breakfast just got better!” He returns to camp to gather leaves to wrap the fish so it can cook on the coals. It is another Barramundi, steaming gently inside the leaves to keep its moisture and flavour. Once again, pepper from Alex’s travel bag adds a touch to a meal that could never be replicated in a restaurant. It is a simple dish; the flavour enhanced when presented against a background of isolated wilderness.

“Now that was absolutely wonderful!” Alex sighs, leaning back and licking the remaining juices off her fingers. I’m glad you relented over breakfast. The day would have been too long without it.”

“I can agree with that. Sometimes my urge to get things done means I sacrifice simple pleasures,” he admits, as he leans back and enjoys the feeling of a full stomach. They savour the sensation for precious minutes. Then Jed announces it is time to go.

Alex rolls her eyes at him but knows he is right.

It doesn’t take long to gather their meagre possessions and head up the beach after a wistful backward glance at the camp that kept them secure for the night. It has been a peaceful haven divorced from the reality of their situation. They both share the same feeling. When they look briefly into each other’s eyes, they recognise the shared emotion. Such a time may never come again. They will treasure the memories.

Soon they reach the end of the beach where it meets the silt-choked channel. They stop side by side and Jed scans the sky to their left imagining the glide approach in the Cessna, then swings right to visualise where they saw the wreck of the plane hidden by the undergrowth. From the beach their sight line is shielded by mangrove and scrub forming a tangled barrier in front of the taller trees. He eyes the surroundings again then pulls out his knife, holding it casually but confidently in his hand.

He indicates the direction with the blade of the knife. “In there.”

Alex nods. Their goal is tantalisingly close. “Lead on, Macduff.” Excitement and tension are coiled tightly inside her.

Jed heads up the beach with a determined stride. He steps boldly into the scrub, sweeping the first of the undergrowth aside to make room for their passage. Within a few steps the undergrowth becomes a thick, tangled mass. He sweeps the blade of the knife downward in hard cutting strokes to clear a narrow passage for them to push through. The vegetation tugs at their clothes and tries to smother them in its tangled tentacles. Jed slashes and cuts with practised precision.

Feeling like a full expedition rather than what must have only been a few tens of metres, they emerge into clearer space. The trunks of trees can be seen reaching up to support foliage stretching upward toward the life-giving light of the sun. They stop to gather breath and refocus their eyes in the more open space in front of them. The angle is different from their initial discovery, looking slightly up instead of down from the Cessna.

Both recognise it at the same time. A tall, flat metal shape in faded military-green paint contrasting with the irregular pattern of the undergrowth. In spite of having experienced twenty-six crash sites, Jed has never lost the excitement of the first sight of wreckage hidden among the bush. Each is a memorial to the courage of long-dead young men who gave their lives in combat.

The weathered twin tails rear up proudly toward the foliage of the trees, aged and worn but still demonstrating the potential energy of flight. On the side of the fuselage partly hidden in the shadows, is still visible the faded, white painted star of the United States Army Air Force. Adjusting his eyes to the play of sunlight and shadow, he can see the starboard wing reaching out into the trees, the shadowy bulge of an engine and, hidden in deeper shadow, the dull, long shapes of propeller blades. With a practised pilot’s eye, he sees the blade nearest the ground bent back at the tip but not twisted, evidence the engines had been shut down prior to the forced landing.

He can sense Alex behind him, standing in awe at the sight. “Bloody hell!” she manages to say.

The power of what rests in front of them shuts off any further communication. The shadowy form of the aircraft lurking under the trees is a ghost from a long forgotten past. They stare at the apparition, a time capsule of history.

Decker is feeling pretty good with Joe’s news about finding the tracks of the bitch and the headmaster. He takes a walk, working a pattern around the vehicles in the most likely direction the headmaster would have stashed a wheel. He couldn’t have carried it far, unless he put it down and rolled it but the marks would be easily visible. Decker eventually finds it stashed in some low bushes behind a fallen log.
Bastard isn’t as smart as he thinks,
Decker chuckles to himself. He relishes the realisation he has outsmarted the prick and now has transport any time he wants.

Things are looking up. He savours the challenge of paying the bitch back. Doing it easy would never have been as much fun as this game of cat and mouse. It is the very reason that when it comes to payback, a knife is better than a bullet, strangling is better than a knife and burying alive is even better still. Dragging revenge out and having a personal touch gives far better memories to relish. He never doubts he will come out on top. None of them is as good as him in the long haul. When it comes to the crunch, no one can match him.

It has been like that all through his life. He remembers the look on Johnny’s face as the back hoe dumped the last load of dirt on him. It was classic! The bastard got what he deserved for trying to play silly buggers. Once Decker got out of jail he did that one pretty quick. He is prepared to bide his time with the bitch, but payback is coming. He savours the experience. He will only use a bullet to disable her. After they finish toying with her, ultimate pleasure will come from looking into her eyes as he finally strangles the life out of her. He will stop just in time and bring her back for a few repeat performances. Revenge with hands-on, personal contact. Memories forever!

Lying in his swag, the thoughts give him a hard on. He relishes the feeling, stroking himself to the point of climax then backing off, enjoying the sensation of being on the tantalising edge of satisfaction. He will save it for the lying, deceitful, conniving bitch! He holds himself balanced on a knife edge until he hears sounds of movement as Jesse wakes. He lets the feeling subside, knowing it can be fired up on demand when the time is right. He unzips the swag and rolls upright, stretching and flexing to regain full movement.

Putting on his boots, Decker stirs Jesse awake with his foot. “Time to rise,” he announces in a booming voice that carries over to Joe and Brad curled under blankets on the other side of the camp.

They could have run during the night, but Joe understands his little brother could not have taken the pace. He would have fallen to the white fella’s guns, just like so many of his ancestors. Joe knows that playing the game is their best chance and he plays it to the full. Rolling into a standing position, Joe puts his hands over his kidneys and leans back to stretch himself. He looks over at Decker with an innocent expression on his dark face that camouflages his true intelligence. “A new day boss! A good day for tracking!” he yells across at Decker with pretend enthusiasm.

Decker acknowledges with a nod and walks off to check the location of the wheel he has hidden. As long as he has that, only he has transport. He aims to keep it that way. It won’t take long to change the wheels and get mobile. With that thought, he goes over to the Patrol, picks up the jack and stashes it with the wheel, just in case. While Decker is covering his bases, Jesse gets out of the swag, drops to his knees to blow the slumbering coals into life and throws twigs and timber on the fire to fuel it into flame. It doesn’t take long to get breakfast going for him and his dad. He doesn’t even consider the black fellas. They are a different breed. They simply don’t compute in his awareness. They are there to do a job and easily disposable.

Joe sees they are excluded from breakfast but hasn’t expected anything else. He can pick up tucker during the day. Only Little Britches worries him. He can’t eat with his broken jaw and only the soup has made it past his pained lips in the last day. There isn’t much Joe can do apart from keep Brad alive by playing the game, so he picks up the water bottle, cradles his brother in his arms and dribbles water into his mouth. Brad tries to grunt his thanks but Joe hushes him into silence, accepting the look of love and gratitude in his brother’s eyes.

He watches Decker come out of the bush and head over to the fire to throw eggs, bacon, beans and bread onto a plate, crouching down to eat next to Jesse.
Bad bastards
, Joe thinks,
Mean and unpredictable with no feelings for other people
. In his mob, people are important. Even though they have their problems and fights, family and the mob are the foundation of a good life. These two only care about themselves. He can see they get pleasure from other people’s pain and the sense of power it gives them. He decides that meekness will do him no good and calls out across the fire. “We should move soon! Make good use of the day!”

Decker tucks the last of the bacon into his mouth, taking his time to respond. He knows the black bastard is right but doesn’t like being told what to do. Still, he needs the fucker and everything hinges on Joe’s tracking skills. When he finally responds, there is just a hint of grudging respect toward Joe. Decker knows he has skills well beyond what he will ever acquire. It is something he never expected to admit.

“Ready in five,” he calls back as he finishes the last of his bushman’s breakfast. He considers the logistics of the day, feeling a sense of pride that he can plan into the future and cover all the bases. “We’ll be gone tonight and probably back late tomorrow. If we’re out another night, don’t worry Jesse, just stick to the plan,” Decker says quietly to his son. “Whatever happens, just do what I told you to do. I need you and your rifle to do the job.”

Jesse feels a wave of pride wash through him. His dad trusts him and built the plan around him. He is determined to fulfil the trust and not let his father down. “You can rely on me Pa,” he responds with passion and claps his hand on his father’s shoulder. It is the first physical contact in a long time.

Decker claps Jesse on the shoulder in return. “You’ll get your payback,” he promises as he gets organised for the safari. A safari of people-hunting! The thrill and expectation send a shudder through his body. He is looking forward to the coming days.