Forest Secrets (10 page)

The thought of losing Rex seemed to galvanise him. His nonsense talk stopped and he allowed himself to be led to the van where he extracted a key from his pocket. He handed it to Snook. Snook didn't waste any time. He opened the door and leaped into the van. Two seconds later and he was leaping out, blankets in hand.

Wasting no time, he handed me a blanket. ‘Start around the annex first,' I yelled. ‘That looks the most exposed.' We then flew into action, starting with the spot fires surrounding Blowhard's sleeping quarters. Shadow joined in running from one small fire to the next acting as our spotter. We then hurried to the other dozen or so fires that were spreading rapidly. Blowhard was no help; he'd disappeared into his van.

Then, after what seemed like hours, it was over. All the fires were out. ‘Phew,' Snook said, his breath coming in short gasps, ‘I think we've done it. If we'd got here any later though, it would have been a different story.' Shadow too, looking exhausted, had collapsed under a tree.

I looked around. Snook was right. Bracken, ferns, bushes, maybe even the trees, would have gone up in smoke. We could have had a major bushfire on our hands. I coughed. Smoke still hung in the air and through the smoke I saw Snook striding towards Blowhard, who was coming out of his van. Blowhard was a sorry sight. Dragging one foot after the other, looking like he'd been chucked out of a tool bag, he limped over to his seat by his now smouldering fire. And with his head in his hands as though trying to hide from the world, he began to rock backwards and forwards as if dipping for apples.

He didn't see Snook standing over him, looking down.

I could almost feel his anger. It looked raw, electric. I kind of hoped he wouldn't be too hard on him. Blowhard looked like he'd had enough shocks for one day. I cringed, waiting for Snook's anger to surface.

Maybe it was seeing Blowhard so crumpled, so down and out and pathetic, or maybe he was having a brain fade. I don't really know, but instead of blasting him, Snook did something completely different. He explained, quite reasonably, some of the dos and don'ts of camping and how not observing these could lead to dire consequences – like starting bush fires.

Looking through his fingers, Blowhard stuttered, ‘I-it wasn't my f-fault. It was the rocks. They just exploded. They sh-shouldn't have done that.'

Thinking to lend Snook a hand, I picked up one of Blowhard's rocks using a couple of sticks. It was still glowing. I walked over and showed it to Snook. ‘Look, isn't this lime-stone?'

‘You're right, it is!' Snook turned to Blowhard once again, this time dressing him down like the old Snook. ‘You're an even bigger dill than I thought! Don't you know that lime-stone explodes if you overheat it? I thought you'd know that, being the expert bushman you say you are. And another thing, Blowhard, seein' as you reckon you're a real hotshot, why haven't you read the warnin' sign, the one near your annex that tells you all about how the river can flood unexpectedly? You might wanna read that before you go to sleep tonight.' As if looking for support, Snook glanced in my direction.

‘Yes, Mr Blowhard,' I said, ‘what Snook has told you is correct. I'd shift your annex if I were you. It's far too close to the river. Your van should be all right, though. It's higher up the bank.'

Not saying a word, Blowhard got up, limped over to his van, rested his head on the van's side and patted it as if it were a dog. Then, looking at the wreckage behind him, in a low, chanting voice, he said, ‘It was the evil spirit monster that did all this; it caused the fires and made the rocks explode.' He patted the side of the van again. ‘It wasn't us, was it Rex?' I watched as he climbed the steps of his camper and disappeared inside.

I gave Snook a nudge. ‘Let's head back to camp; leave Blowhard to it. We need to talk about what we saw back there by the river, and I don't mean Blowhard's fire. I'm talking about that kid who keeps popping up for some reason or other, and I'm talking about the dinosaurs too. There has to be a reason we're having the visions and I want to know what that is.'

‘Good idea,' Snook said. ‘I wanna find out too. I especially wanna find out what happens to the big dinosaur, the one that keeps runnin' everywhere like he's lookin' for somethin'.'

‘W
hat's happened to you two?' Gloria asked when we got back to camp. She walked over to Snook and looked him up and down. Covered in soot and black sweat and with his hair sticking up like a porcupine, he looked like he'd been down a chimney. I supposed I looked just as bad, but Gloria wasn't worried about me; she was too busy fawning around Snook who seemed to be enjoying all the attention. He'd adopted a lost animal look, a bit like how Shadow was looking, black and sooty. I suppose I couldn't blame Snook for lapping up Gloria's sympathy; he'd been through a lot lately and right now he really was a mess.

Dragging her eyes away from Snook and looking more in my direction, Gloria said, ‘Quenton and I cycled back as soon as we saw the smoke. What happened? We didn't know what was going on or where the fire was.'

‘Everything's okay now,' I assured her. ‘There was a fire that needed putting out. That's all.'

Quenton must have been thinking that it was time
he
got into the act. Stepping forward, he looked over at Snook and said, ‘Acting the big hero, were you? Who were you trying to impress?' He draped an arm over Gloria's shoulder. ‘Not
my
girlfriend, I hope.'

Snook's eyes flashed. ‘Don't try getting too cute, Quigley,' he said between clenched teeth, ‘or else.' Like a fever, I could see Snook's anger rising. His face had gone a deep purple and his fists had clenched. It was time to do or say something, when Gloria's father turned up.

We all watched as he climbed out of the Volvo.

‘I wonder what he wants now,' Snook said, his anger forgotten. ‘I hope he doesn't wanna examine us.'

‘Who knows? We'll find out soon enough, I guess.'

He marched straight up to us. ‘Ah, Snook, Jars, you're here.' Noticing the state we were in, he said, ‘Good Heavens! Look at you! What's happened to you?' We told him about the fire and how we'd put it out. ‘My word, you have been busy,' he said. ‘Hold still while I have a look at you. I had better make sure you're okay.' Lifting Snook's eyelids with one hand, he took his small doctor's torch from his top pocket with the other. He shone the torch into his eyes and then turned to me. ‘Mmm,' he said, ‘I'll talk to you two in a minute.' He then examined Gloria and Quinton. He said, ‘I'm pleased you two haven't been in the wars like Snook and Jars. That's something.' He pointed towards the car. ‘You and Quenton might as well come home with me. Go and put your bicycles in the boot. I won't be long. I just want a word with Snook and Jars.'

What did he want a
word
about now? I wondered. We'd already told him about the kid, even down to what he was wearing. It couldn't be about him. ‘You two have had a vision again, haven't you?' he said after Quenton and Gloria had left. ‘You've both got that dreamy look about you and your pupils are dilated.'

I was starting to get a little fed up with all the questioning. ‘Let's tell him everything,' I said to Snook. ‘We might as well.' Snook nodded okay.

I had just started to explain how the visions always started with a sighting of the kid, when Gloria's father interrupted. ‘That's what I wanted to see you about. After I spoke to you this afternoon I went back to my office and looked up the file on Mr and Mrs Cooper. If you remember, their son went missing 60 years ago. Anyway, the strange thing is that when their son disappeared, he was wearing the same clothes as the boy in your vision. I know it's silly to even think it, but I kept asking myself the same question:
Are these two boys one and the same?'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Snook looked at me and rolled his eyes. He even twirled a finger around his temple in the classic
he's loony
signal. Anyway, Gloria's father was certainly embarrassed by the words that had somehow escaped from his mouth. Eventually, he said, ‘I was, um, wondering whether you could remember anything more about the boy, anything at all.'

I tried to think and then I remembered another tiny detail that we hadn't mentioned before. ‘There was a bit of black hair sticking out from beneath his peak cap.'

‘Yeah,' Snook said, ‘I reckon Jars might be right about the hair, but hang on … there is somethin' else. I remember now.'

‘What's that?' the doctor asked, his voice a little shaky.

‘He had a ring on his finger, the kind the Phantom wears. You can order them from the back of the Phantom comics. Come to think of it, that's not a bad name for 'im – the Phantom Kid.'

‘A ring. Yes, that could be important. I'll check it out when I get back to town,' and then, as an afterthought, he added, ‘Don't forget …'

‘What?' Snook asked.

‘I'll see you both in my office first thing Tuesday.'

‘Whatever,' Snook said, mumbling something unintelligible.

After he and the others had gone, I suggested that it'd be a good idea to check Blowhard's camp one last time. I was worried about the breeze. It'd picked up a little, enough to fan any smoking embers we may have missed back into life and we didn't want that to happen.

Nodding, Snook, along with Shadow, caught up with me as I headed for the bridge. We crossed over and walked down to his camp. ‘Everythin' looks okay,' Snook said, ‘but I suppose we'd better have a look around.'

I thought so too. I couldn't see any embers waiting to burst into flame, and after looking at the starless sky and feeling damp air against my face, I thought Blowhard's camp was safe enough, for now anyway. ‘You're right, it looks pretty good but maybe we should have one last check before we head back.' I held out my hand. ‘It might even rain; if it does Blowhard'll be okay for the night, that's for sure.'

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I
t was seven-thirty, nearly dark, and Reginald Blowhard could hardly wait to curl up in his annex. He'd set it up earlier with a camp stretcher, blow-up mattress, sleeping bag, three fluffy pillows and a bed-side table for munchies and other essential night-time goodies. He even had a bedside lamp that was powered from an outside generator. He rubbed his hands together and beamed. Yes, he thought to himself, I've done a good job. I'll be nice and snug tonight.

After changing into his favourite pyjamas, the ones decorated with tiny brown bears, he turned on his iPod and hopped into bed. He attached his earplugs and lay back, listening to an old song, one of his favourites from the 1950s called
The Purple People Eater.
Outside, it wasn't totally dark but his body felt tired. And no wonder, he told himself. Those pesky kids have been interfering in my plans all day … constantly trying to make me out as some sort of idiot. Well, I'll show them. I'll go out tomorrow and take the best, the most fantastic photos that anyone's ever seen. He smiled as he imagined himself walking onto the stage in front of a cheering crowd to accept the winning prize. That, he told himself, would be most appropriate.

Feeling better now, he took off his earplugs and reached for a chocolate bar that he had placed on the table earlier. Munching away, he then reached over and picked up a can of Fanta. Taking a sip, he picked up his newest book, a horror fantasy called,
The Curse of the Mummy,
from the side of the bed.

He'd just got into the story when he heard a sound, a dull, muffling noise coming from outside.

‘It's those kids again!'

They're nosing around outside, he told himself – the cheek of it. Well, I'll show them. I'll pretend they're not there and maybe they'll go away. He adjusted his pillow, broke off another chocolate square, took a sip of his drink and once again turned to his book.

It was about an hour later – the Mummy was just about to creep into some poor soul's bedroom to lay his curse – when he heard another noise. It was a scraping, scratchy sound coming from outside – near the back of the annex. Laying the book down next to him and propping himself up on his elbows, he looked around … nothing. ‘What's that? Who's there?' he whispered, as he turned to look at the canvas wall behind him. No answer. Then, in a slightly louder voice he called, ‘Have you kids come back?'

A drawn-out guttural sound like someone choking, answered him. ‘Arghhh! … Arghhh!'

He bolted to an upright position. His book and empty Fanta can flew across the room. ‘Wh-what? Wh-what's that?' he stammered.

The throaty, rasping sound came again. ‘Arghhh! … Arghhh!' Eyes popping like periwinkles on a rock, he turned and stared at the tent's canvas behind him. He gasped. There
was
someone outside, creeping around the tent, trying to find a way in; he could see his shadow. He could also see that he was big, with very large ears. ‘It's Mamu,' he heard himself saying, his voice shaking. ‘He's come to get me.'

Unzipping the sleeping bag, he sprang from his bed, and like a charging bull, he raced through the flaps of the annex out into the night. Unfortunately, he didn't see the guy rope and peg that were in his path. He tripped on the rope and the peg caught on his pyjamas bottoms that fell in a heap to the ground. He bent to pick them up.

‘Looks like a full moon's out tonight,' Snook said, as we watched Blowhard scrambling to set things right with himself.

Seeing the grins on our faces and realising how silly he must look, Blowhard spluttered, ‘You … you two. Come to ridicule me some more, have you?'

‘Nup,' Snook said. ‘Just come to make sure you're not goin' to go up in flames. One last check, so to speak.'