Lost In Kakadu (13 page)

Abigail arrived at his side. “What are you making?”

“Mushrooms a la Kakadu.”

“Very funny.” She frowned. “You’re not eating those, are you?”

“Of course. Can’t let good food go to waste.”

“But how do you know they’re safe?”

“Only one way to tell. I guess we’ll know in a couple of hours.”

“Mackenzie! Don’t be stupid. They could kill you.”

Oddly he felt at ease with the situation. “I’ll only eat a couple. At the very worst, I’ll get sick, maybe have some nasty toilet trips, but I don’t think I’ll die.”

Abigail regarded him for a moment. “Don’t leave me alone out here.”

He looked at her until their eyes met. “I’m not going anywhere.” He removed the pan from the heat, stabbed one of the mushrooms with his stick and blew on it. “Here goes.” He slipped the meaty fungus into his mouth. The warm mushroom had softened with cooking. It tasted similar to an ordinary field mushroom and the sauce from the flower was sweet.
Rodney would love this.
His heart constricted at the thought. Mushrooms were one of Rodney’s favourite vegetables and the realisation that Rodney was gone hit him with brutal clarity. His throat closed in, breathing grew difficult.
Why did Rodney die? He was a good man.
Rodney never hurt anyone. In fact, he’d dedicated his life to helping people. Mackenzie swallowed hard, determined not to cry right now. The time for crying would be after Rodney was buried.

“How is it?” Abigail’s voice snapped him back.

“It’s fine.” He swallowed another mushroom along with a great lump of guilt, knowing Rodney would’ve wanted him to live. Spearing another one from the pan, he ate it like a shish-kebab. Deciding to risk just one more he stabbed the largest, which was about the size of his palm. “So now we just wait and see.” Rubbing his thighs, he leant forward to stretch his lower back. “We need to keep digging the graves. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Me neither. But we have no choice.” He got to his feet and tossed the remainder of the mushrooms into the bushes. Then before he could procrastinate any longer he picked up their makeshift shovel and stepped into the hole.

For hours he laboured in the dirt and the hole gradually increased in size and depth. He took off his shirt when rivers of dirt-laden sweat trickled down his arms and legs. But he had no intention of stopping until the grave was finished. Every part of him begged to stop but he couldn’t bear the thought of waking up to the hideous task tomorrow.

A rumble in his stomach concerned him, but he couldn’t decide if it was hunger pains or something worse. He carried on regardless, blocking it out as he pounded the earth, digging to a morbid rhythm, riding a wave of emotions—fury over their situation, fear of dying, grief over Rodney’s death, hunger, tiredness and most of all, his intense desire to survive. His body trembled from sheer exhaustion and he crumbled into a shattered heap on the edge of the grave.

To his surprise, Abigail picked up the tool, stepped into the hole and dug into the compacted earth. She didn’t complain as her movements stiffened with each shovelful. Her clenched jaw failed to mask the pain on her face and he fetched a water bottle. When she paused to accept it, she wiped her forehead leaving a dirty brown streak in its path. He noticed her shaking hands.

Mackenzie held his hand towards her and she reached up. Her eyes were numb from emotion, as if everything she’d felt before she stepped into the hole had been sucked into the pit. He helped her from the ground, and with his arm around her waist guided her to a spot by the fire. She sat down, drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them with her chin on her knees.

Mackenzie knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

Her chin quivered as she shook her head slowly.

He placed his hand on her cheek and when one of her tears trickled from her eyelashes he wiped it away. The dam burst and Abigail sobbed. Mackenzie wrapped his arms around her and she reached up, put her arms around him and they embraced, each with their chins on the others shoulder. As she cried he smelt the sweet scent of her hair and felt the dampness of her tears falling down his back.

They cried together for what seemed like an eternity.

Mackenzie couldn’t cry anymore, but he still held onto Abigail until her breathing returned to normal. When she finally pulled back, he looked at the wet eyelashes that lined her red eyes and for the first time he noticed a spattering of freckles across her nose. He liked them. It gave her a sense of naturalness.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

She sucked in a shaky breath and nodded.

“You stay here. I’m going to finish it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He stood up and although he was exhausted, he was also determined. He returned to the grave and stepped into the hole.

Eventually the pit grew to a one metre by two metre rectangle that was barely one metre deep. The ground was simply too hard to dig the hole any deeper and he realised they had no alternative but to lay the bodies on top of each other. His mind was thick with anxiety as he mulled over who would lay where in the grave.

He climbed from the hole and stretched flat out on the warm grass. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath and black stars darted across his eyes. Sparks spun on his eyelids in dizzying circles.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

“I’m fine. Just exhausted. I think it’s finished.”

Abigail groaned. “Oh God.”

“What?”

“Now we have to move them.”

As he thought about what he had to do next, bile rose from his stomach and caught in his throat. He felt like a fine layer of glass surrounded his sanity. It was fragile, and one wrong move would shatter it into a million pieces. For the third time in his life he was burying someone he loved. He rolled away from Abigail and wondered if he would make it out of the dark reaches of hell safely this time. He felt so alone.

A kookaburra sang overhead. Its joyous laughter mocked his heartbreak. The sound reminded him of Rodney. His laughter was always louder than it needed to be, as if it was important for him to show how carefree he was, despite his serious job as a lawyer. Mackenzie began to giggle. He rolled onto his back roaring with laughter and although he felt Abigail staring at him, he couldn’t contain himself.

“What on earth could be so funny?”

“That kookaburra sounded just like Rodney and I imagined him laughing at this ridiculous situation.” He wiped away laughter tears. “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“What kookaburra?”

He pointed in the direction of the bird. “It was right there.” But the kookaburra was nowhere to be seen. He frowned as he studied the canopy. A slight breeze tickled the sweat dampened hairs on the back of his neck. He shivered.

“I still don’t see it.” She stared in the direction he’d pointed. “Um, maybe you’re hallucinating from those damn mushrooms.”

“It was right there.” Mackenzie scanned the tree line but the bird didn’t materialise. A smile curved the corners of his mouth and he bowed his head in Rodney’s honour.

* * *

The pounding in Charlie’s head beat to an odd rhythm and he willed it to go away. He forced his eyes open and stared at the shredded undercarriage above him. The brutal recollection of their plans before he blacked out made him panic. With a shaky hand, he touched his chest and with instant relief he felt the rough bandage.

He heard laughter and turned to see Mackenzie rolling on the ground, cackling hysterically. Charlie concluded that he must’ve consumed the last of the rum. No other scenario would arouse laughter in their current situation. His bundle of letters caught his eye and he attempted to reach for them, but intense pain unleashed a tortured scream. Seconds later Mackenzie and Abigail were at his side.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” Mackenzie squatted beside him.

He silently nodded, wrestling with swirling nausea. “My chest doesn’t hurt as much as my head.”

“Rum’ll do that to you. But you’re in luck. We found some pain killers at the back of the plane. I’ll get them.” Mackenzie ducked his head as he left the makeshift bedroom.

Abigail pushed the letter bundle closer to him and Charlie rested his hand on the pile. She looked like she wanted to say something but thankfully she didn’t. Charlie wasn’t ready to answer questions just yet. They remained in uncomfortable silence until Mackenzie returned.

“Here, take a couple of these. At least you’ll have one less pain to worry about.” Mackenzie popped out two pills and handed them over with water.

Charlie battled to suppress a cough as the warm water slid down his throat. “Thank you.” He peered into Mackenzie’s eyes and saw pity in them, as if he possessed a divine knowledge of his impending future. He looked away. Mackenzie’s sad eyes hurt more than the throbbing headache.

“Are you hungry?”

He nodded, knowing that opening his mouth would release flood gates he didn’t want to open. Mackenzie squeezed his shoulder and left his side. Abigail followed, leaving Charlie alone in his cargo net shanty.

The satin ribbon around his precious letters was smooth and silky between his fingers. He didn’t want to end it all here. With just one thing on his bucket list, the abrupt realisation that he might not fulfil it made him furious. His mind raced along with his heart.

He looked for his satchel. “Abigail?”

* * *

Abigail heard Charlie’s faint voice and returned to his side. His eyes were wide and fearful.

“Are you okay?”

“Can you get my satchel, please?”

She reached across his body, careful not to touch him as she lifted the heavy satchel by its broken strap.

“My journal’s inside. Can you get it?”

She removed a leather bound journal and was surprised by its weight. A thin strap, wrapped several times around it, kept it shut.

“Open it,” he urged.

She unravelled the bindings and several pages spilled out the side. She had to counterbalance it just to keep them in place.

“Go about three quarters in.”

Using her fingernail, she divided the book and opened to a page covered with masses of erratic writing. An intricate drawing of a leaf adorned the left hand corner and a scattering of words were underlined. She read a few of them: Obovate, Falcate, Rhomboid, but nothing made sense.

“Keep going, more to the back.”

She turned the pages, frowning at the array of words, hand drawn sketches, computer generated images, tables and photos.

“Stop! There it is!”

She placed her palm against the spine of the book, folding it open. At the head of the right hand page the words ‘Filantaria minoxa’ were printed in large, handwritten letters. Underneath it was ‘Australia’s Antioxidant Answer AAA’. A flurry of text interspersed with random collections of numbers and a couple of sketches covered the rest of the page. The left side displayed a hand drawn map and she recognised the word ‘Kakadu’ but couldn’t make sense of anything else.

“What is it?”

“That, my dear, is the solution to our problem.”

Abigail studied the map again and wondered if Charlie could help them find a way out. But even if he knew where they were, how on earth did he propose they would travel? He could barely talk let alone walk. “Charlie, I don’t think—”

He silenced her with his hand. “All we have to do is find that plant.”

Abigail frowned. “Um, what plant?”

“That plant. The Ozioxidant, as I call it. It’s the antioxidant I told you about. It’ll help me get better so I won’t be a burden to you.”

“Charlie, you’re not a burden. You’re injured.”

He stared at her like she’d proposed marriage. “That’s the reason I’m here. Have you heard of the Goji berry from China?”

“I’ve heard of it.” Abigail flicked over a page but had no idea what she was looking at.

“Those little berries possess amazing antioxidant qualities and I believe my little berry—I call it the Noxa berry—will blow them out of the water.”

“How will you find it?”

“It’s taken me years to get to this point. My notes are all there. I’ve interviewed hundreds of Aboriginal elders and reviewed their cave drawings. I know it’s in Kakadu. Here. Let me show you.”

Charlie delved into a series of in-depth explanations about his notes, but after a while he must’ve realised Abigail had no comprehension of what he was saying. He sighed. “At the very least, I have information in here regarding other edible plants in this area.”

Her eyes lit up. “Can we eat the mushrooms?”

“Um … some of them.”

“Mackenzie ate some earlier. I told him not to. Anyway, he’s been acting weird ever since.”

“I have several pages on mushrooms, but believe me, if he was going to get sick, he would’ve already.” Charlie paused and then said in an unrecognisable voice, “He chose wisely.” He chuckled and then gasped in pain.

Abigail had no idea what he was laughing about. She looked away shaking her head. Their situation was dire. They had little food, limited water and she hadn’t showered in four days. Her hair felt like an alien creature was hibernating on her head and worst of all, she could smell her own body odour. Sitting back, she examined her hands. They were utterly filthy. Dirt embedded along the shallow creases of her palm like a human road map and dark brown stains were now visible below her fingernails, despite her red nail polish.

Mackenzie re-appeared at the bedding holding a charcoaled can of baked beans with a T-shirt.

“Here we go, mate. The special of the day is a delicacy in these parts, fire roasted baked beans.” He smiled as he placed the can next to Charlie. “There’s a small fork on the army knife.” Mackenzie presented the miniature fork like a trophy and chuckled. “You’ll just have to eat them one bean at a time.”

“That’s probably best anyway.” Charlie popped a bean into his mouth and Abigail heard him swallow.

Abigail left Charlie and Mackenzie and walked to the gravesite. She folded her arms over her chest at the edge of the dark pit and stared into it.
Oh Spencer, what am I going to do
? For sixteen years Spencer had been telling her what to do. He’d dictated everything, from what she wore to who she spent time with. Now, she felt completely lost without him. She hugged herself as tears stung her eyes. After a while she blinked them away.