Lost In Kakadu (2 page)

“If you weren’t deserting me, I wouldn’t need to shop.” Krystal’s voice dripped poison. “So don’t be such a
bitch
.”

Abigail had to force her reply through clenched teeth. “Don’t talk to me like—”

“Come on, girls.” Spencer stepped between them. “We’ve had a nice couple of days together. Let’s not spoil it before we say goodbye.” He wrapped his arms around their shoulders and forced them together. “Now give each other a hug.”

With obvious reluctance, Krystal embraced her, but then quickly pushed away.

“Be good,” Abigail whispered.

Spencer clapped his hands together like a teacher’s cane cracking on a naughty student’s desk, and Abigail jumped. “Good girls. It’s time to go.” He reached for his suitcase, kissed Krystal on her forehead then strode away.

Abigail clutched her handbag and turned to Spencer’s assistant. “Goodbye, Tina … Enjoy.” Without a response, she lugged her bulging suitcase toward the glass door.

Spencer held the door ajar as she stepped past him to navigate the avenue of witch’s hats leading to the plane. Wind whistled in her ears and the heatwave distorted her surroundings. Her stomach squeezed tighter as she watched a pack of wild dogs race along the chain link fence, kicking up a red dust cloud behind them. The white plane in front of her was barely a speck against the vast red panorama beyond. It made the isolation seem even greater.

A man in a yellow vest stepped into her focus. He was waiting at the nose of the plane. Everything around her vanished into obscurity as she searched his face for a sign that something was wrong. There was nothing, though. His smile seemed normal, he looked relaxed, and when he spoke his voice was without even a hint of nervousness. She handed her case to him, and his yellow vest flapped open as he gathered the bag like it was a small child. But he pitched it into the luggage hold with careless disregard.

“Hey, careful with that!”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He didn’t sound sorry.

“It’s okay, mate,” said Spencer. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder like they were old friends. If it had been
Spencer’s
case …

Abigail clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to point out that it definitely wasn’t okay. In fact, nothing seemed okay. She turned her back on them and reached for the railing. With each step she climbed, she felt the dread sink lower into her stomach.

At the plane’s doorway, she glanced to her left. Uluru dominated the horizon; large, red and proud. They’d explored it thoroughly over the last two days. Spencer and Krystal had loved it, but Abigail had been repulsed by the whole experience. They’d paid a fortune to stay in glorified tents, poorly-serviced ones at that. The food had been practically inedible, too. Worst of all though, no amount of money could remove the relentless insects or the oppressive heat.

She was truly relieved this part of the journey was over. Despite that, she couldn’t quite shake the niggling feeling that the worst was yet to come.

As Abigail entered the plane, a young, milky-skinned woman was staring at her from the front seat, twirling a cranberry coloured dreadlock as thick as a Cuban cigar. Abigail tried to ignore her as she chose a seat near the open door. But even with that open space, she still felt the cabin closing in on her as soon as she sat down. Spencer would take pleasure in her fear, of course, and he’d repeatedly told her she’d hate this part of the holiday. Although she suspected he was right, she couldn’t back down from what she’d started.

I need to calm down.
She reached into her handbag, removed a tissue and cringed as she wiped greasy finger smudges off the window.

Spencer ducked his head as he entered the plane, his smile radiant. Full lips framed his flawless teeth and matching dimples punctuated his cheeks.

The young woman already seated offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Toni.”

“Spencer Mulholland, pleased to meet you.” He nodded his head in Abigail’s direction and lowered his voice, pretending to ensure she couldn’t hear. “Don’t worry about
her
. She’s not accustomed to flying.”

Then without a glance, he stepped past her towards the back of the plane. Feeling about five inches high, Abigail saw him approach an older-looking man who was already sitting in the rearmost seat.

At that moment, another woman entered the cabin. She had a furrowed brow and looked preoccupied as she fell into the seat opposite Abigail.

Spencer paused to examine the new passenger and Abigail’s heart sank at the very visible approval in his eyes. “Hello, I’m Spencer. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He offered his hand to the woman, his voice loaded with suggestive charm.

She looked up at him. “If you say so. I’m Madonna.” Her smile seemed forced.

“Oh dear,” he said, brimming with sincerity. “Have a bad morning?”

“Let’s just say I had other plans for Easter.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll have a great time.” Spencer then turned and stared down at Abigail. His piercing eyes and thunderous expression said everything. She forced down her disappointment and ignored the familiar bristle of irritation. He might have at least allowed her the window. However, it was obvious she wouldn’t be afforded the same generosity Spencer gave his usual adventure-buddies.

She moved over, trying to ignore Toni’s amused grin, and he glided into the window seat.

Through the doorway, Abigail saw a tall, rangy man in faded jeans striding across the tarmac. The polished tips of what looked like crocodile skin boots flashed rhythmically in the sun. Moments later, he stepped through the door. Her heart pounded as she stared at the tendrils of a black tattoo that snaked up his thick neck and licked his diamond-studded earlobe. Abigail recognised him as the other man who’d been arguing under the plane, the one who’d stormed off.

“Good morning, folks.” His voice was a tortured baritone. “My name’s Dave Wilkinson, and I have the pleasure of being both your pilot and tour guide for the coming week. We’re just waiting on three more people, and then we’ll be on our way. Make yourselves comfortable.” He turned and bounded down the steps like a ten-year-old gymnast.

Abigail whispered in Spencer’s ear. “Oh my God, Spencer. He’s one of the guys I just saw arguing by the plane. Do you
still
think it’s safe?”

“Of course it is. Don’t be ridiculous.” His look of scorn hurt more than she cared to admit.

Fighting a powerful urge to run, Abigail removed an emery board from her bag and started filing her nails to distract herself. Two more men were walking toward the plane. The taller man had honey-blond hair and Lennon-like sunglasses, and a frown that pulled his eyebrows into a straight line. The other man’s slicked back hair glistened in the sun, and his olive skin and almond shaped eyes indicated mixed cultures. He moved with athletic comfort, and flashed very white, even teeth when he laughed.

Moments later the blond-haired man stepped into the cabin, and when his friend joined him they moved to the seats behind Abigail. They chattered continuously, but stopped as a hulking copper-haired man sidled through the entranceway holding a bulky TV camera in front of him. Madonna groaned when the newcomer scratched his groin.

Abigail nudged Spencer and rolled her eyes toward the redhead.

The big man paused. Madonna looked up at him with hatred clear in her eyes. “My day just gets better and better,” she said, her voice loaded with sarcasm. “What the hell happened to Adam?”

“Looks like he and Kimba were sharing more than coverage. They’re both chucking their guts up. You and me are gonna be stuck together for a whole week, baby. Get used to it.”

“Just do your job and it’ll be fine. And don’t call me baby.”

“Sure thing—
boss
.” The word leered off his tongue, resentful as much as suggestive.

“Shut up and get ready. We’ll do a report along the way.”

Each time the redhead took a step, the plane groaned under his weight. At the back, he flopped into the last spot, the camera between his legs. Abigail felt sorry for the old man beside him—his body literally spilled out the sides of the seat.

A sharp noise at the front of the plane made Abigail jump. Spencer laughed snidely, and she glared at him.

“It’s just the baggage door closing.” His sadistic grin showed how thoroughly he was enjoying her discomfort.

The pilot reclaimed her attention, busily hauling the stairs up as he spoke. “As I said folks, my name’s Dave Wilkinson, and I’m your pilot and guide. Welcome aboard. The Kakadu gods have blessed us with clear skies and mild winds, and we should have a pleasant flight before we land in beautiful Kakadu National Park. But first, as we’ll be together for the next five days, how about we all introduce ourselves? Let’s start with you, Toni.”

The girl flicked a dreadlock and twisted around to the rest of the passengers. “Hi, I’m Toni. I’m studying to be a park ranger.” She waved a delicate hand, then gestured to Madonna in the seat behind her.

“My name’s Madonna, I’m a travel reporter for ‘Going Places’.”

The giant redhead butted in. “Yeah, and I’m Tom, the unlucky bastard chosen to be the shark’s cameraman.”

Madonna flashed her middle finger at him.

Abigail stared at the reporter.
Maybe this trip won’t be boring after all.

The older man cleared his throat into the momentary silence. “I’m Charlie, and I’m hoping to find a plant that I think could be Australia’s contribution to the antioxidant phenomenon.” He was buzzing with wide-eyed excitement, and peered at his audience as if expecting them to ask questions. After five seconds of silence, he nodded at the two men in front of him.

The dark haired man spoke. “Hi everyone, I’m Mackenzie and this is Rodney, and this trip has been on our ‘must-do’ list for several years.”

After a moment, Dave gestured to Spencer.

“I’m Spencer Mulholland, and this is my wife. Abigail.” He managed to make her name sound like an afterthought.

“Right then,” David said. “Welcome, everybody. Keep your seatbelts buckled, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.” He turned and jumped into the pilot’s seat.

Abigail clutched her chest. “Where’s the safety briefing?” Her throat was so dry she could barely speak.

“I think that was it,” Spencer chuckled, obviously relishing her expression.

Abigail tugged her seatbelt tight across her waist, and the men behind her resumed their idle banter as if everything was just fine. Another loud bang made her jump. Peering over Spencer’s shoulder, she watched a cloud of black smoke get sliced by the rotating propeller as it picked up speed.

Dave said something in the cockpit, and the engine noise rose to a deafening roar. The cabin shuddered, and then the aircraft was accelerating along the tarmac. Abigail dug her nails into the seat as the distant tree line rapidly approached. As she readied to scream they gracefully lifted off the ground and just cleared the trees.

Spencer peered down his nose at her. “No vomit bags, I noticed, so go steady.”

Several minutes later the intercom crackled to life. “Okay, ladies and gentleman, hope you’re all settled back there. Let me give you a bit about my background. I purchased this little beauty from the Royal Flying Doctors Service in 2002. She’s saved many lives in her time, including mine—I was dying in an eighty-hour-a-week job before I put everything into this venture. I personally oversaw her refurbishment, including the plush leather seats you’re enjoying, and that toilet back there. We’re scheduled to cross the southern border of Kakadu around four o’clock, so kick back and enjoy the ride. Oh, and by the way, today’s in-flight entertainment will be my bad jokes.” The pilot cackled at his own hilarity. “This is Big Dave signing off for now.”

Abigail massaged moisturiser into her hands and glanced at Madonna. The reporter’s hair was a delicate blend of caramel and blonde, and her beige shoes perfectly matched her suit. Abigail would need to keep an eye on Spencer with this woman around.

She watched Spencer settle down to sleep. He was very handsome for his age, even though his once-dark hair was now solid gun-metal grey. His goatee was speckled with white, and a lifetime of laughter had left its share of wrinkles. Women of all ages still threw themselves at him, and she knew he was often there to catch them. Several of her friends were having long-running affairs with him, she was certain of that. But despite it all, she was lucky. She knew women who were divorced, and having seen what happened to them, there was no way she was going to be the ex Mrs Mulholland.

The gentle hum of the plane eased her apprehension and she closed her eyes, trying to relax.

* * *

Several hours into the flight, Madonna’s sharp voice cut into the silence. Abigail peered at her through tired eyes. The reporter looked over her shoulder toward the back of the plane and Abigail followed her gaze. Tom was snoring, mouth wide open, his head on his shoulder.

“Tom,” Madonna said. “I said wake up.”

“What?” Tom grunted, his eyes fixed shut.

“It’s time to do the story. Get the camera ready.”

Tom stretched his arms up over his head and snapped his elbow with a sickening crack. “I can’t believe you waited till I was asleep. You’re such a bitch.”

“Stop whinging. This is good light. Look at the sunshine through these windows.”

Tom swore under his breath, but he gathered the camera from the cabin floor, removed the lens cap and eased the heavy equipment onto his shoulder.

Madonna checked her appearance in her small mirror, applied a fresh layer of lipstick and smoothed her hair. “Excuse me, ladies and gentleman, could you please remain silent for a couple of minutes while I record this segment?”

Toni spun in her seat. “Cool! Are we going to be on TV?” She pulled her shoulders back and adjusted her T-shirt.

“That’s not up to me. It depends on the editor.”

Madonna took three attempts before she was happy with the segment. “You’re in for a special treat this week, folks. We’re on our way to Kakadu National Park for five fun-filled days of adventure. This exciting journey kicks off with a sightseeing trip with our guide and pilot, Dave.”

Dave waved over his shoulder.